Troubled Shipmates
By
Catwriter
It wasn’t a huge boat by any standard. Just a nice 18-foot powerboat. I hadn’t bought it for fishing or even going out on the water. It was a nice little place to hide when getting away seemed the only thing to do.
My buddy, Jake, had a summer place next to the lake. The huge trees lining the shore shaded the dock. It was just Jake’s sailboat and my little number that graced the dock.
I looked forward to getting out of the house on Saturday mornings and just fixing up the small forward cabin. The cabin couldn’t be more than five feet high with two small sitting or sleeping benches meeting at the bow. Always wanting a pristine private area, I had covered the entire cabin in thick white soft carpet. Gravity permitting, one could have slept soundly on the ceiling.
My girlfriend, Lonnie, and I had our first child several months ago. Our little bungalow was a happy place. We enjoyed the baby and ourselves more than ever before. Just seemed as though things were going to work out for us.
Stacey, Lonnie’s daughter, showed up several weeks ago with her four month old son having been evicted from her apartment. It was pleasant enough for the first few weeks and then the arguments started. Both mothers were nursing and had words constantly. You name it. How to change a baby, how to burp a baby, how to bathe a baby and finally the most rancorous aspect, how to nurse a baby. The constant bickering was beginning to take on aspects of all out war. Previous wounds came to the surface to the point that anything and everything was a matter of contention.
And so?.the boat. Wonderful silence and a cold six pack had a refreshing way of reinvigorating me. Another reason I enjoyed leaving was that Stacey had started coming on to me. I was no prize package either. Forty years old, the developing gut and a ten-dollar an hour night job didn’t qualify me for GQ’s man of the year award. But I was the only guy in her current orbit and her attention seemed more about upsetting Lonnie than exciting me.
I popped my first Ice House at 10:30 a.m.. The resulting fizz-sound coupled with some squabbling birds brought a sense of absolute relief. The clunker Stacey called a car grinding to a halt thirty yards away did not. I grudgingly turned to see the 19-year-old troublemaker making her bikinied way toward the boat. Fighting the urge to swim to the other shore, I waved.
“Hey big fella” she gushed.
“Stacey, where’s the baby?”, I asked innocently enough so that it wasn’t a condemning remark.
“Grandma came by and took both babies to her house for the day. Isn’t that great?”, she said as she clambered aboard.
“Great!”, I replied attempting to sound enthusiastic. Don’t get me wrong. Stacey was hot. Her bikini wouldn’t register on the atomic scale. Her hair was long and pretty if somewhat wild looking. At five foot four, she was a bit small for her breasts, which had always been large (I’d guess a 34C). Now that she was nursing, they had mushroomed to a 38D. I’d checked having done her laundry a few times. She still had a bit of a tummy but otherwise was back to her lovely shape.
Sitting spread-legged across from me and leaning elbows on knees, her cleavage caused me to think of a thin line surrounded by pillowy softness found in dreams. I felt an electric twitch between my two big toes and quickly made a tent of my bathing suit.
“This is not good”, I thought, trying to think of baseball or cooking or?didn’t matter. The tent just kept growing.
Stacey had a wicked smile on her face. I wanted to move somewhere to hide my embarrassment but decided to stay where I was.
“Mind if I get a little sun tan today, tiger?” she whispered.
“Grab the blanket in the cabin and lay out on the bow,” I suggested.
“Why don’t you get it for me?” said the Cheshire grinned blonde as she took a moment to stretch.
“Stacey?” I said feeling obviously exasperated.
“Ok, ok, don’t get your nuts in any more of an uproar than they’re in already.” She huffed.
Finally, she went down the four sharply angled stairs to my little hideaway. I heard her rummaging around in the storage compartments.
Lonnie’s old Chevy pulled up next to Stacey’s. She waved and headed toward the boat.
Her long naturally brown hair bounced on her shoulders. Her smile lit me up and we kissed as I helped her aboard. Her large breasts swelled and flattened against my chest. I’d forgotten my aroused state and Lonnie backed up looking down.
“My my sailor, did you buy a larger compass or are you just happy to see me?” she gushed.
“Hi, moms” crooned Stacey while standing in the hatch leaning on the rails. It would have been an innocent enough greeting if she hadn’t been topless.
My quiet Saturday was unraveling faster than a pitcher down six zip in the first inning.
“Put your top on, Stacey. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Lonnie in a distinctly menacing tone.
“Oh, just thought I’d get an all-over tan,” replied Stacey in a kitten-like tone designed to enrage her mom.
Moving toward the hatch, Lonnie was commenting on Stacey’s lack of morals as Stacy, ducking and moving back to my little slice of silence commented on her mother’s child rearing skills.
“Ladies, ladies?. please stop” I pleaded.
I’ve been ignored many times in my life but never with such completeness.
Lonnie descended the steps and bumped her head infuriating her even more. Ducking down she disappeared and the shouting intensified.
I went down the hatch myself, physically and emotionally, to see the two hellcats verbally sparring. On either side of the cabin and bent forward so that their heads were within inches of each other, the two were becoming venomous. Stacey’s ponderous breasts swayed as she made her point. Lonnie’s breasts, slightly confined by a low cut blouse also moved sensuously as she thundered insults at her daughter.
I popped my second Ice House and made myself as comfortable as possible, kneeling in the tiny hallway next to the head.
Both enraged females were pointing fingers very close to the eye of the other, each intent on making her point.
“Stay away from this boat or I’ll make you wish you had!” Screamed my baby.
“I’ll go anywhere I damn well please you saggy titted bitch!”
That did it. Lonnie was quite proud, and rightly so, of her 40D’s. Sure they sagged a little. She was thirty-eight.
Lonnie surprised me by grabbing Stacey’s left tit and squeezing, causing a small amount of milk to dribble to the underside of her breast.
“Ouch, don’t you dare touch me!” shouted Stacey as she savagely ripped Lonnie’s blouse. Stacey must have squeezed a bit harder because Lonnie’s milk sprayed Stacey’s left tit.
My topless girlfriend and her daughter grasped two handfuls of hair and tugged. Bent over as they were, their large breasts were a whirlwind of motion, although their heads barely moved and their feet were firmly planted. Occasionally banging both heads into the ceiling as they tried to leverage their fiercely held hair holds, all talking stopped and the grunting began. Teeth were bared as the scalp pain had its intended effect. They actually began circling in the cramped area, occasionally slamming one another into the upper storage compartments. They tried kicking one another but the space constrictions
prevented that.
Slowly they circled, tearing at hair. Angry eyes began tearing as their rage grew. Occasionally, Lonnie would release one of her hair holds and slap at Stacey’s face. Their forearms were pressed together so the slaps had little effect except to escalate the anger. Stacey tried to slap Lonnie’s face but had little effect.
After several attempts, she realized that a breast slap was far more effective and that’s exactly what she did. Lonnie finally pulled on Stacey’s other arm and managed to get her in a headlock. Lonnie’s left breast was trying to squeeze into Stacey’s ear as Stacy grasped Lonnie about the waist, attempting to bring her down.
The two sweaty hellcats grimaced and groaned as they again began a circling motion in my cabin. Stacey’s ass was about a foot from my face at one point. The jerking movements she made had me at attention once again as I proudly saluted the warring womanhood before me.
Stacey made a desperation move and punched upward to Lonnie’s swaying breast while pulling her hair from behind. Lonnie’s knees bent, and then buckled as she fell to the carpet bringing a snarling Stacey with her. The younger gal straddled Lonnie whose head was at my knees. Lonnie’s natural breasts warbled to the side and Stacey’s hung almost in Lonnie’s face. The furious females again fell into a hair-pulling melee, Stacey trying to bang Lonnie’s head into the floor and Lonnie trying to unseat her opponent.
Bringing a knee into Stacey’s back and pulling fiercely to the right, Lonnie was able to topple the enraged blonde. On their sides now and still full of anger, they began throwing the slaps which had proved difficult moments ago. Neither tried to block the blows. A sharp hard slap from one brought just a second of shock and rage before it was returned. Their faces were crimson and I was sure there would be black eyes tomorrow.
The pain proved too much and they began inching closer to one another making the slapping battle less effective. It did. It also brought their huge chests into contact and the marvelous mammaries slowly compressed together. Wrapping their arms behind each other, they secured hair pulls. This wasn’t a herky jerky motion either. Each slowly powered their opponents head slowly, left and right. Stacey pushed against the low bench and rolled on top of Lonnie who continued the roll as Stacey’s ass hit the other bench. This test of strength attested to the evenness of the combatants. Neither could overpower the other. But they could and did expend milk, which had the same effect as an oil-wrestling match. The large breasts would crush against one another and then slowly slide. As they wrestled and fought, a breast would occasionally spring from the mutual crushing battle and then return to battle, eager to engage its counterpart.
The enraged duo had tightly locked their legs during this exchange. Stalemated above, as they, were, their legs came more and more into play. Each was squeezing mercilessly the legs of the other. After one of many slow rolls, Lonnie managed to extricate one leg and knee Stacey hard. The knee slammed into the upper thigh. Stacey screamed, released Lonnie’s hair and grabbed at the spot.
Lonnie slowly sat on the left bench, head in hands. Stacey managed to right herself and sit across from Lonnie. Both women were weeping and obviously exhausted. Their breasts were bright red from all the breast to breast rubbing and milk dripped slowly to the carpet.
After several moments, Lonnie sat up and said, “I warned you about coming here without me. I hope this teaches you a lesson not to do it again.”
Stacey slowly sat up and from her expression, I was fairly certain that the lesson today was yet to be taught.
With an absolute sneer on her face, she grasped her left breast and squeezed. I don’t know if she’d done this before but she hit Lonnie square in the eye. Wiping away the milk, Lonnie grasped both her breasts and let fly. Milk hit the ceiling and then, in a slow descending arc hit Stacey in the face, then chest and belly.
Stacey reached across the small space and pinched Lonnie’s nipples. Lonnie did likewise as the two pulled one another to their knees. The pinch turned to a grab, then a twist. And soon the two were forehead-to-forehead grasping breasts as hard as they could. The backs of their hands were touching and breasts slid between their fingers. Copious amounts of milk were hitting the carpet and the wild haired battlers whimpered and groaned.
Stacey weakened and bit into Lonnie’s shoulder while throwing her right arm around Lonnie’s neck. Lonnie responded in kind and they were again pulling hair with one hand and squeezing tit with the other. Both faces were turned toward me but they had eyes only for one another. Their scratched and reddened breasts swayed heavily upon their chests.
Lonnie grasped Stacey in a bear hug and Stacey returned the move in kind. Their foreheads were pressed together as were their bellies. Huge amounts of breast squeezed out from under their arms and ballooned outward.
Stacey spit at Lonnie. Lonnie smashed her forehead into Stacey and spit back. Their foreheads had a bit of blood on them as they now ground them together. Pulling on Stacey’s hair, Lonnie leaned back and slammed her sore chest into Stacey.
This time, Stacey fell back; her ass on the floor, back on the bench and head against the wall. Lonnie punched Stacey’s left breast, then the right and finally smacked her hard in the chin. Breasts were flying everywhere.
Stacey groaned and went limp (after coming several times during the contest, so did I).
Lonnie and I crawled to one another and I softly caressed her back, whispering encouragement. She sobbed for a few moments and gradually composed herself. Noticing the front of my bathing suit would indicate a recent swim, while the back had me sunning all day she said, “Hell of a fight, wasn’t it baby?”
“Damn right, best I’ve ever seen”. I said proudly.
“I know Granny ain’t gonna like it, but she’s gonna have two new roommates tonight.
“Sounds like a plan to me darlin’.”
My weekends are quiet again. Get to sip my beer on the boat and look across the water. Sometimes in the quivering meeting of sunlight and wetness, I see two forms grappling fiercely. Yep, the weekends are quiet but not without memories.
