Something on the Dock of the Bay

The singer growled more than sang, and I was enjoying every note. A large man, proud of his Louisiana roots, he stood in the Texas heat in shorts and an oversized golf shirt that throughout the evening would increasingly reflect his propensity to sweat. Unfazed by his transforming appearance, he let his music take center stage.

He wasn’t a rock star. He was rhythm and blues. And I was feeling every note.

David had suggested we ride to the nearby resort town to check out the music scene that I didn’t even know existed. I was skeptical because my experience with the place left me with an overwhelming feeling of plastic. The restaurants are cookie-cutter-let’s-prove-how-fun-we-are-with-canned-music-and-cheesey-graphic-chains and the boardwalk is a series of overpriced carnival rides nestled on the edge of the bay. I found it hard to believe anything good could come out of Kemah.

I hereby confess. I was wrong.

The cheese factor at T-Bone’s was present but low key. Sure, I spotted a couple of tongue in cheek signs that were supposed to suggest laid back cool, but for the most part, the picnic tables were the best testament to the fact that this casual joint wasn’t trying too hard. A roll of paper towels on the table and condiments nodding to the gulf diner’s taste for Tabasco were it.

We chose our table based on the setting sun. We weren’t in need of its beauty for romance – as a new couple who were growing in our awareness of our commonalities both inside and out of the bedroom we were good in that department – we simply wanted to avoid the heat!

“Our spot” became a place to stage left. The shade was settling in and we nested on one side of the table. He offered me first choice on selecting the seating arrangements and I immediately opted for two chairs on the same side of the table and facing the music. He smiled. He wasn’t sure yet as to whether I’d be a public-display-of-affection kind of woman but the attention I was giving to the closeness of the chairs offered a strong hint.

The classics were our singer’s forte. “Sitting on the dock of the bay” had me grinning broadly and, though I shushed David mid-story, I made up for the story-interuptus by softly running my fingertips along his arm. He feigned hurt until realizing my intent and then he relaxed, allowing the longing in both the song and my eyes to begin to transport him.

We ordered small plates. They were out of alligator which saddened me because it seemed appropriate for the setting. But the jalepenos, cheese, shrimp and mushrooms sated us. At least as far as the food went.

I realized that to accomplish my ever-evolving plan, we’d need to relocate to the bench on the opposite side of the table. Offering that the shade had shifted slightly, I pulled him up for the move and he complied. I only pushed him slightly – really, just slightly – to straddle the bench with his back to the wall and ready himself for my joining him. I leaned back into his chest and wrapped his arms around me in such a fashion that his hand rested just beneath my breast.

I didn’t have to see his face to know that he was now seeing the coming attractions.

I began to rub my finger over his and across my nipple in time to “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone” and he picked up the beat as well. Anyone who cared to watch the couple on the side would only see two adults keeping time. They would have to get very up close and personal to know that my nipples were hard and my other hand had found its way behind my back.

Releasing him from his shorts was not too much of an endeavor as I had practically lap danced him towards an erection on the “I know, I know, I know, I know” of one of my favorite tunes. He was ready to come out and play. I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed in time to the music. He continued to play out the beat on my breast. Soon I’d made my way to the tip of his cock and just imagining its familiar pink cast and rounded fullness made me practically come with only the slightest touch to the center where his juices were beginning to ooze.

He moaned the moan of man pleased with his world and calmed the tapping, resting his hand just below my left breast as he inched his other beneath my cheek. His knee obstructed the next table’s view. We were the couple clearly familiar with the sound as we sang along quietly and on occasion stopped to whisper in each other’s ear. What may have been interpreted as a critique of the music was actually promises to one another of what would come later as well as what was hoped for in the here and now.

“I want your cock inside me. I want you to come inside me. I don’t care where – mouth, pussy, you name it.”

“You’re so wet. I know it. I can almost feel your wetness dripping down toward your ass. I want to feel you tight around me.”

We continued our game until the first set was complete. We were calm. We were composed and our breathing seemed labored only to the two of us. The storm we were creating with limited detectable movement was perfect.

We paid the check and adjusted ourselves to take a walk near the water. I found it difficult to keep my hands off him as we slowly made our way to the pier. But we found a darkened corner and stood to face the sea. He took the lead this time, unfastening my pants and slipping his hand down my panties to discover the wetness he’d already predicted. He chuckled in my ear and let his finger dance across my clit to his own rendition of what could happen on the dock of the bay as the tide rolled away.

He was right. I came almost immediately as his low voice melted into my consciousness. He held tightly as the waves of pleasure matched the lapping sounds of the water hitting the pier. I was totally enveloped in his arms and the sole passer-by knew nothing of the orgasmic nature of our coupling.

After I had recovered, he tidied me up and kissed the back of my neck softly. Again. Then again. And again. He offered that the Jeep in which we’d traveled outside the city would make a nice bed with only a few adjustments. I concurred and we walked to the parking lot like the new, anticipating lovers that we are.

We drove away with the cool breeze providing the necessary rationale for snuggling closer and I soon found a way to position my hand for pleasuring him while he drove and I watched the sweet agony grow on his face. He had that “please-no-please-please-yes-no” look going that I love and I smiled at his dilemma.

Soon he had found a turnoff the somewhat busy highway and yet another turn had us near a stretch of beach with no street lights, no lights of any kind except the distant glow coming from the resort area. We shifted his golf gear and created makeshift pillows from towels and were soon blessed with a headboard on irons and woods and skylight view of the stars.

He kissed the top of my head. “I thought you might be a bit shy for that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” I did a horrible job of overacting as the sweet, young innocent we both knew I wasn’t.

“That little game of show and tell back at the restaurant,” he laughed as he stroked my hair and began to rub my neckline. I was once again resting my head against his chest and getting lost in the sense of power his broad shoulders implied, not too mention the arms that were all-too-familiar with weights and had the bulges to prove it.

“Uh … as I recall, the show was private and I don’t think the table next to us could tell a thing. Unless of course, you mentioned to them that I squeeze my eyes shut and release a slight mmmmm sound every time you make me come. Then they might have a thing or two to tell tomorrow,” she loved tickling him both physically and as they chatted. She was sure he was pleased because his hardness had returned and she was now back to familiar ground, holding him in both her hands that she’d wrapped behind her. She had a basket weave effect going on him and his breathing was sounding deeper and harder in her ears.

“Mmmm . . . yes . . . mmmmm, that is the sound isn’t it? You . . . did. . . do a . . . good . . . job of restraining . . . your . . . self,” he was finding it hard to focus.

“Speaking of restraining – let’s not,” and with that she turned and placed her lips on his now fully erect cock and dove down in one full swoop, deep throating him to his surprise.

He gasped and found no words but he tugged at her hair in a way that he knew she liked. So she continued. She kissed and licked and pushed along the shaft with her tongue. She sucked him like a lollipop and then tickled the tip with her tongue. Back and forth. Up and down. She found her rhythm by replaying the singer’s songs in her head.

Soon she knew that he was ready to explode and she paused just long enough to encourage him. He came in bursts. She marveled as she watched him lose the control he cherished so dearly in everyday life. He was no longer with her in the jeep but in a place of pure pleasure.

She was glad to watch.

When he calmed, she began tracing her finger around his chest.

"Why didn't you get on top of me?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Sometimes I just like to watch. You're such a giver that its good to reverse the roles on occasion. You complaining?"

"No. No complaints. But remember, giving you pleasure, gives me pleasure."

"Oh, I remember. In fact, you can return the favor at any time you feel . . . up to it."

He grinned the grin of a little boy who just learned he had several more hours before supper to play.

"Did you notice the clouds?" he pointed up and pulled her closer then began to cup her breasts.

"Beautiful pillows of white set against the darkness, don't you think?" she responded and readied herself for the storm already stirring within her.

"Beautiful indeed," squeezing both breast and nipple.

"I think I have a whole new appreciation for resort life on the bay," she laughed as he turned her face toward his and began his now familiar slide of kisses down, down, down.