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From: Nick Scipio <nick@nickscipio.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Nereids" by Nick Scipio - Ch 6 (MFF, mast)
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Date: Fri, 26 Jan 2007 19:10:05 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Nereids
Part: Chapter 06
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Jack MacLean is happy with married life, but it's the
Swinging Sixties and he wants more. His wife does too,
and they have their eye on her new friend, Beth Hughes.
But Jack and Beth's husband will soon be fighting a war
in the skies over Vietnam. When they return, everything
will change.
Keywords: MFF, mast
Revision: 1.25
Word Count: 9,470
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/nereids/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/nereids/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

*****************************************************************
                        STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This story is intended as ADULT entertainment. It contains
material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you are
offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT
read any further.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events
portrayed in it are fictional, and any resemblance to real people
or incidents is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities described.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author. It may be freely
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Nereids
A Summer Camp Story
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER SIX

"Gentlemen," Commander Scarlatti said from the lectern at the
front of the ready room, "before we begin, I'd like to introduce
Ensign Deke Tindle, 'Buzzard.'" He gestured, and a dark-haired
ensign rose.

Jack didn't exactly glare at the man, but his eyes were hard.
Around him, the other pilots looked much the same. Tindle was
Keith Olin's replacement.

"Mr. Tindle joins us from VA-124, by way of Atsugi," Scarlatti
continued. He glanced at the new man and nodded. "Why don't you
tell us a little about yourself, Mr. Tindle."

Tindle hesitated for a moment, looking young and bashful, but
then opened his mouth to speak.

"_Sit down and shut up!_" the pilots shouted in unison. It was a
time-honored tradition. Besides, they all missed Keith, and some
New Guy fresh from The World wasn't going to take his place.

Tindle turned scarlet and sat down abruptly.

"That's okay, Mr. Tindle," Scarlatti said, his expression
paternal. "We'll get to know you in time." He turned to business
and addressed the room. "As soon as Mr. Tindle gets up to speed,
he will be our new SLJO. Mr. Hughes, I'm counting on you to
acquaint him with his duties."

Several men chuckled darkly.

"Aye, aye, Skipper," David said.

"Remember how the Old Man likes his coffee, Zuniac," Jerry
Schmidt called.

"Just like the space between your ears," David shot back, "--
black."

Hoots and catcalls erupted.

"All right, secure the chatter," Commander Waulk said, but
without much heat.

Jerry grumbled, but fell silent. Ed Cousins reached over the row
of seats to tousle his hair.

Scarlatti resumed control of the meeting: "As I was saying, Mr.
Tindle will be our new SLJO. He'll also fly as my wingman. As a
matter of fact, I'm going to shake up several of the wingman
assignments." He unfolded a piece of paper. "I'll post this on
the bulletin board, but here's the new lineup."

The pilots listened attentively as he read through the list. Jack
and Jerry stayed together, but David was paired with Larry
Reiter, the squadron's Admin Officer. Larry was an easygoing
lieutenant whose callsign was "Sky."

Ed Cousins was paired with Alvin Young, who hadn't fully
recovered from Keith's death. Ed's cheerful personality would
definitely lift Alvin's spirits. Jack nodded to himself,
impressed by the Old Man's shrewd human calculus.

"Moving on," Scarlatti continued, "Mr. Young tells me that our
two replacement aircraft are ready for combat operations. Yours
truly will have his name on the side of 801, and 806 will go to
our newest plane owner... Lieutenant Commander MacLean!"

The men clapped facetiously, and Jack stood to take a bow. Having
his own plane meant he wouldn't have to share with Ed Cousins. He
didn't _mind_ sharing, but plane ownership was a perk for the
squadron's more senior officers.

Scarlatti waited for the din to die down. "CAG assures me that
our third replacement aircraft is on its way from Subic. He _did_
have some choice words about losing three planes in one week,
though." He paused to let his words sink in. "You all know how
the Navy works: shit rolls downhill. When CAG chews _my_ ass, I
chew yours. So let's not lose any more planes. Is that clear?"

"Aye, aye, Skipper," the pilots answered in near-unison, joking
yet serious.

"Until the last replacement plane arrives, we'll have to double
up," Scarlatti continued. "Mr. Shur will fly 811 and Mr. Hughes
will fly 814."

Lieutenant Shur normally shared his plane with David, and he'd
been mildly annoyed after David's dust-up with the North
Vietnamese. But the enemy gunners had gotten the short end of the
stick when they tangled with David Hughes. Jack chuckled
mirthlessly--high explosives were a good way to end an argument.
Permanently.

"When the new plane _does_ arrive," Scarlatti added, with a
meaningful look at David, "please take care of it, Mr. Hughes."

"I'll do my best, sir," David said earnestly.

The pilots chuckled, and Jack leaned over to clap David on the
shoulder.

"Now, about the bomb shortage we're not having...," Scarlatti
began. "According to Secretary McNamara, we won't have to cancel
any missions due to ordnance availability."

Several men snorted at the Secretary's double-speak.

"We do have plenty of napalm, though," Scarlatti continued, "and
we seem to have an abundance of snake-eyes. Consequently, I'm
putting us on a close air support rotation. We'll be operating
with a group of II Corps FACs in Binh Dinh province..."

Scarlatti went on, detailing operations with the forward air
controllers, and Jack made notes. As assistant operations
officer, it was his job to help Commander Featherston coordinate
with the FAC pilots.

As Scarlatti drew the briefing to a close, he held their
attention for a moment longer.

"We're getting short, gentlemen," he said, "less than two months
till we steam for home. Stay sharp. Watch your wingman. Pay
attention to your flight leaders. And all kidding aside"--he
nodded toward the new guy--"take Mr. Tindle under your wing and
show him how we do things. He'll be watching my six, and I don't
want the Secretary to blame _me_ for any pilot shortage we're not
having."

The pilots chuckled.

Scarlatti surveyed the room, gazing at the men as a father might.

"You know your jobs," he said at last. "You wouldn't be here if
you didn't. I expect the best from each of you. I know you won't
disappoint me. Dismissed."

**

"The weather's supposed to be nice this weekend," Susan said when
they finished looking at Jack's latest pictures. Most were of
flight operations, or Vietnam itself, seen from the cockpit of
Jack's jet. But the rolls always included shots of Jack and his
fellow pilots.

Beth sighed as she thought about David. He looked thin and gaunt
in the pictures, and she finally understood what a thousand-yard
stare looked like. Jack had taken a candid picture of David in
his cockpit after a mission--his eyes had been hooded and empty,
and he looked _old_ in the picture, old and tired. It was a sharp
contrast to the pictures where he was obviously hamming for the
camera.

He wasn't the man Beth remembered, and her heart ached to see
him. Susan was talking, but Beth's mind wandered and she lost the
thread of conversation. She simply gazed outside, her eyes
sightless.

With an act of will, she shook herself out of her growing funk.
She couldn't do anything about the situation, and brooding about
it would only make things worse. Instead, she thought about
inconsequential things, like the weather.

Over the past months, her morning walks with Susan had progressed
from slacks to shorts, from windbreakers to T-shirts. The days
were hot, but at least they were dry, since California didn't
suffer from Florida's staggering humidity.

Beth wondered what it was like where David was. She knew that
Vietnam was hot and muggy, but she wondered if the weather was
different around the carrier. Did they have the same afternoon
rain showers and humidity in the Gulf of Tonkin? Or was it sunny
and mild?

Unfortunately, David's letters didn't tell her about the weather.
Lately, they hadn't told her much at all, except that he missed
her. He'd begun to talk about "The World" as if it were some
foreign place. She felt him changing, becoming more guarded, and
she didn't like it.

_Her_ letters, on the other hand, were more mundane than ever.
She wanted David to feel like he was still part of the family's
daily life, instead of halfway around the world in the middle of
a war. She wrote about Paul and Erin, the neighborhood and their
walks, and the things she did with Susan and the other wives.

At the thought of her letters, she smiled--she also wrote fantasy
letters. She knew that David would never be unfaithful, but she
didn't take that for granted. So she wrote a fantasy letter at
least once a week, telling him about her hidden thoughts and
desires.

Her smile turned ironic when she realized that she wasn't nearly
as explicit when they were together. She might tell him what she
liked, or what she wanted him to do, but she never would have
told him about her fantasy of semi-public sex, or anonymous sex
with a stranger. She lost her inhibitions in her fantasy letters.

She hadn't quite worked up the nerve to write about her growing
attraction to another woman, though. She barely admitted it to
herself, and only when she was being exceptionally honest. But
when she _was_ being honest with herself, she knew that her
attraction to Susan was more than emotional. It was physical,
too, which made her nervous. She wasn't like that. She wasn't a...

As usual, her mind shied away from the word. But then her eyes
flashed open and her thoughts began to race. Two women together
might be taboo, but what about two women and a _man?_ Would David
like to have sex with two women at once? She chuckled
sardonically. Didn't most men have that fantasy?

She turned serious and pondered the question in earnest. After
several moments she nodded to herself. She knew David--_and_ his
sex drive--and if he thought she'd let him do it, he'd definitely
have sex with two women at once. With an eager smile, she decided
to include that in her next fantasy letter.

She never thought she'd admit it, but the idea of David having
sex with another woman actually turned her on. Not just _any_
woman, though. She cast a covert glance at Susan, and felt her
face heat.

_Only if I get to join in,_ she thought. _And who'd object to a
little friendly touching between two women having sex with the
same man? That wouldn't make me a--_

Her cheeks fairly blazed with heat and she quickly looked out the
window. She shook her head in frustration and tried to compose
herself. Susan was still talking, but Beth couldn't focus.
Instead, her mind continued to wander.

She usually took a long bath after she wrote one of her fantasy
letters. The baths always ended the same way, with her entire
body tingling as she gasped from the intensity of her orgasm.

She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought. Then she
imagined Susan in the bath with her. She imagined a bath big
enough to hold David, Susan, and her. Soapsuds hid their bodies,
but they were playing with each other under the water. She
imagined her hands on David's hard shaft, moving in rhythm with
Susan's as she played with his balls.

"Beth?"

Beth closed her eyes and sighed softly as she imagined what
fantasy-Susan was doing with her _other_ hand. She felt a surge
of heat spreading from her pussy, and squirmed in her seat.

She knew she'd be taking a bath that night, whether she wrote a
fantasy letter or not. She imagined the bathroom lit with the
warm glow of candles, soft music playing in the background. She
could almost feel the hot water easing the tension from her
muscles. Her imaginary hand...

"Beth?" Susan said for the second time, louder. "Earth to Beth?"

Beth's eyes snapped open and she looked around in confusion.

"Here I am, nattering away as if I had good sense," Susan was
saying, "and you're woolgathering." She laughed. "Oh, what a pair
we make!"

"Oh... sorry."

Susan waved a dismissive hand. "I really _was_ just nattering."

"I'm sorry," Beth repeated. "I was thinking about..." She cast
about for something to say. "About David! I mean, about a
_letter_ to David."

"Oh? One of _those_ letters?"

Beth felt her face flush hotter still. _Why do I have to blush so
much?_ she thought peevishly. _Worse, why do I have to let my
imagination run away with me? Treacherous--_

"Don't worry," Susan said. "I do it all the time. Sometimes I get
so worked up that I can't wait for the boys to go to bed." She
shrugged, but then raised her hand and wiggled her fingers.
"Thank God I can take care of myself."

"Susan!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you do the same thing."

"Well, sure," Beth said, "but I don't talk about it."

"You do too! We talk about it all the time."

Beth shut her mouth abruptly.

"I know more about your sex life than David does," Susan
continued. "Well, I know more about your _recent_ sex life, at
least. David obviously knows you better than I do."

Beth looked up sharply at Susan's last words. Was she being...
_wistful?_ Did Susan...? Could she possibly...? Beth practically
vibrated with a mixture of doubt, hope, fear, and excitement.

"As well he should," Susan finished.

Beth suppressed her own chaotic emotions when she sensed Susan's
disappointment. She reached out automatically. "He knows me
better in some ways," she soothed, "but he _can't_ know me like
you do." She struggled for words, but then gave up. "He's a man.
How could he _possibly_ know me like you do?"

Susan tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears and she
looked away. Her expression was easy to read: a mixture of relief
and happiness. "I'm sorry," she said at last.

"For what?"

"For getting all weepy."

"Ha! You call _that_ weepy?" Beth smiled to take the sting out of
it. "Believe me, I know weepy, and you're a far cry from turning
on the faucet. You haven't even messed up your makeup."

"Or my blouse," Susan said, smiling weakly.

"Or your blouse," Beth echoed, her mind going back to their half-
naked embrace. She set her hand on Susan's knee, affectionate and
comforting.

Susan looked up, her eyes still moist with unshed tears.

They didn't need to speak.

Susan smiled. _Thank you._

Beth felt her eyes crinkle as she returned the smile. _You're
welcome._

Time stretched into a companionable silence, and Susan composed
herself.

"Just look at us," she said.

"I think I _like_ looking at us," Beth said, suddenly cheerful.
"I certainly like looking at myself, now that I've got my body
back. And I've always liked looking at you."

Susan's eyebrow moved a fraction of an inch.

Beth didn't need more than that, and she started to recoil as she
mentally repeated her impulsive words. But then she checked the
reaction, and smiled instead.

Susan tilted her head to the side.

"Okay, I admit it," Beth said at last, feigning exasperation.
"You're a beautiful woman. I thought so when I first met you. If
I were a man, I'd want to... to... jump your bones or something!"

Susan burst out laughing.

"I _would_," Beth said. "I'd jump your bones as often as I could.
Morning, noon, and night!" Suddenly, she swallowed hard and
fought to compose herself. "If I were a man, that is."

Susan's smile turned inquisitive, and she arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, quit looking at me like that," Beth said, half bluster, half
nerves.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Because you want to jump my bones?"

"You know I don't mean it like _that_," Beth lied, but she began
to fret when the pause lengthened.

After a moment Susan smiled, as if to say "That's too bad."

Flustered, Beth got up to refill their drinks, grateful for the
distraction. It gave her a chance to compose herself, and she
chattered aimlessly as she stood at the sink and refilled the ice
cube trays.

"So," she said, returning to the living room with the fresh
glasses of lemonade, "what were you talking about before I
started woolgathering?"

"I was talking about sunbathing," Susan said evenly. But her eyes
were smiling, deep blue and glittering with mirth. "_Nude_
sunbathing."

Beth swallowed hard.

"I've been lying out in the afternoons," Susan continued. "But
since our backyard doesn't have any privacy, I have to keep my
bikini on. At least I can undo my top when I'm on my stomach, but
still... I hate tan lines."

Beth nodded, too afraid to speak, lest she betray her desire.

"So I thought we could start working on our tans here, while Paul
and Erin are down for their naps."

"Um... sure."

"If you think you can, ahem, control yourself."

Beth felt her face go slack with shock. "What do you mean?" she
practically croaked.

"I wouldn't want you to... jump my bones or anything." Susan's
smile turned wry and knowing, and her eyes practically danced
with laughter. "But then again," she added, "I just might like
that."

Beth's face flushed with heat and she had to look away.

"I'm so sorry," Susan said quickly. "I was just teasing."

Beth felt a rush of disappointment and looked up. Her heart
fluttered when she realized that Susan hadn't been teasing at
all.

"Please forgive me," Susan said. "I... I didn't mean it like that."

_Yes you did,_ Beth thought with a mixture of triumph and sudden
hesitation.

"I was just kidding."

"That's okay," Beth said at last. "I guess I'm just a little
emotional today."

"That makes two of us," Susan said hastily. "I don't know whether
to laugh or cry."

Beth smiled, her eyes full of warmth. Then she surprised herself
by looking at her watch. "The kids should be asleep for another
hour or so. Do you still want to lie out?"

Susan looked up in surprise.

"I don't know if I'm ready for full nude sunbathing," Beth added
quickly, "but I'm definitely ready for topless."

Susan blinked.

Beth fought not to smile. "I don't mind if _you're_ nude,
though." _I don't mind at all,_ she added silently.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll get some beach towels."

She took the towels out of the linen closet and then fetched her
bikini bottoms. She thought about changing clothes in the privacy
of her bedroom, but decided against it.

When she returned to the living room, she flushed with arousal as
Susan matter-of-factly crossed her arms and pulled her T-shirt
over her head. She draped it neatly over the back of a chair and
casually took off her bra.

Beth set the towels on the table and fidgeted with the hem of her
own T-shirt. She finally mustered the courage to lift it, and
cool air washed over her stomach. She tugged the shirt over her
head and shook out her hair. Then she concentrated on unfastening
her bra. It came free and she draped it over her shirt.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth watched Susan slide her shorts
down her legs. Her panties followed a moment later and Beth
resolutely looked away. She couldn't help watching out of the
corner of her eye, though. Susan straightened, nude and
completely relaxed.

Butterflies filled Beth's stomach as she undid the button on her
shorts. She gathered her courage and then slid them down her
legs. She thought about turning her back before she took off her
panties, but she steeled her resolve and hooked her thumbs in the
elastic waistband.

She shivered as the soft cotton peeled away from her skin,
revealing more than anyone but her husband or doctor had seen in
many years. She started to reach for the bikini bottoms but then
stopped, her hand suspended in midair.

"Are you okay?" Susan asked at last.

Beth straightened. Almost as an afterthought, she pulled her arm
back.

"What is it?"

A prudish part of Beth insisted that she should wear the bikini
bottoms, to hide her sex from Susan's eyes. But an adventurous
part of her wanted to show off, to let Susan see her as few
others had before. The two parts fought a silent inner battle,
but then she came to a decision. She took a deep breath and
forced a smile. Then she deliberately turned away from the bikini
bottoms.

Unfortunately, that brought her face to face with Susan--a very
_nude_ Susan. Beth didn't want to get caught staring, so she
struggled to keep her gaze at eye level. With an inner snort, she
admitted that not getting caught wasn't the same as not looking
in the first place. Susan's soft chuckle broke her train of
thought.

"What?" Beth asked, suddenly unsure of herself.

"It's okay to look," Susan said. "You don't have to keep your
eyes locked on mine." She looked down and waved at her body. "I
don't think you're going to see anything out of the ordinary. I
have the usual number of curves... most of them in the right
places." She grinned, mischievous and sincere at the same time.

Beth laughed, the release of tension almost palpable.

"My curves aren't as nice as _yours_," Susan continued, "but I'm
happy with them. Fortunately, so is Jack."

_He's not the only one,_ Beth thought. Then she saw a sparkle in
the other woman's eyes. What was it? Recognition? Anticipation?
Beth's mind raced with the possibilities, and she felt her breath
catch.

Susan misinterpreted the reaction. "It gets easier the more you
do it," she said softly.

Beth swallowed hard and nodded, smiling diffidently.

"Besides, you'll get used to seeing me _au naturel,_ and it won't
seem so odd."

"You're not odd at all," Beth said before she realized it.

Susan smiled.

"You look like a perfectly healthy woman," Beth said into the
nervous silence.

Susan's eyes flashed.

"Oh, will you quit it!"

She feigned innocence. "Quit what?"

"Quit teasing me. This is hard enough as it is. David's the only
one who's seen me like this in a long time."

"Lucky him."

Beth frowned at the teasing note. "I'm serious," she said. "It's
not easy to stand here in the buff in front of another woman."

"Why?"

Beth started to answer tartly, but then she realized that Susan
was serious. "What do you mean?" she asked instead.

"I mean, why don't you like being nude in front of another
woman?"

"I didn't say I didn't _like_ it," Beth corrected, her cheeks
heating at the admission. "I said it's not easy."

Susan tilted her head to the side in question.

Beth suddenly felt self-conscious, and she wanted to hide her
nakedness with her arms.

"Seriously," Susan said at last, "what's difficult about it?"

"For one thing," Beth said with more candor than she wanted, "I'm
nervous about what you think. Okay, maybe you're right... maybe we
do look at each other and wonder, 'Is she prettier than I am?'"

Susan surprised her by laughing, bright and genuine.

"What?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Susan said at last, sighing as her
laughter trailed off.

"What?" Beth said, a bit testily.

Susan sobered. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever
met." She gestured at Beth's body. "You're just about perfect,
from the top of your head to your painted toenails. From your
cute butt to the tips of your nipples."

Beth felt herself blush furiously, certain that the nipples in
question had just turned a shade darker as well.

"Are you serious?" Susan asked rhetorically. "Do you honestly
worry about being pretty?"

"Well... I..."

"Oh, my," Susan said, with a half-mocking sigh. "Here, come with
me."

Confused, Beth followed her down the hallway to the master
bathroom. They stood in front of the mirror.

"Look at yourself," Susan said, standing very close--so close
that Beth could feel the heat of her body. "You're beautiful,"
Susan continued, her voice soft and almost seductive.

Beth's eyes were drawn to the mirror. Her gaze wandered to Susan,
to the side of her breast, to the swell of her hip.

"I mean it," Susan said. "Look at yourself."

Beth's eyes snapped to her own reflection. She still thought her
hips were too wide, but she had to admit that she was fairly
happy with the rest of her body. Her breasts had shrunk since she
stopped nursing, but they still didn't sag much. Her nipples were
bigger than they'd been when she was younger, but they weren't
the sand dollar-sized nipples she'd seen on some of the women in
David's _Playboy_ magazines.

Her stomach still wasn't as flat as she would have liked, but it
was far better than the pooch she'd had after Erin's birth. Even
her skin looked healthy, with a light dusting of freckles across
her nose and cheeks (and her shoulders and upper chest, which she
didn't like as much). The freckles would merge into an even tan
as soon as she spent more time in the sun, though.

She gazed at herself for a moment longer, but then looked away,
modesty and nervousness conspiring to make her blush.

"It's okay to look at yourself," Susan said softly. "It's okay to
think you're pretty. You _are_. And it's okay to enjoy someone
else looking at you."

"It's not that," Beth said suddenly. "I like David looking at me.
I'm just not used to enjoying it when a _woman_ looks at me."

Susan smiled. Beth swallowed hard and looked away. Neither of
them spoke for several long heartbeats, but Beth could feel the
tension between them. It wasn't an awkward tension, though.
Instead, it was a nervous tension, full of anticipation.

She desperately wanted to say something about how much Susan
meant to her, but the moment passed before she could find the
words. Susan must have sensed it too, because she smiled, albeit
a bit sadly. "Are you ready to head outside?" she said at last.

Beth spent the next hour trying to keep her imagination from
running away with her. Susan had a beautiful body, and her light
tan lines drew Beth's eyes like a magnet. But even when she
wasn't looking directly, she felt like she was staring. Her
closed eyelids seem to contain images of Susan...

....on her back, her breasts flattened by their own weight, bulging
to the sides, soft and full.

....on her stomach, the gentle dip of her back leading to the curve
of her rear.

....rolling over, her breasts shifting, her legs flashing open for a
brief instant.

Beth tried to shake off the images, but she couldn't. She wanted
to tell Susan how she felt, but she couldn't do that either. She
didn't _want_ to feel the way she did, but she knew not to fight
it.

Later that night, after she gave Paul and Erin their baths and
put them to bed, she drew a bath for herself, lighting candles as
the tub filled with steaming water. She added bath oil, and the
flow from the spigot foamed the water. Finally, she eased into
the tub, the heat soaking into her body.

She thought about David for a while, his strong hands on her
body, working her into a frenzy. She began to caress herself in
earnest, one hand on her nipples as the other teased her clit.
Her thoughts turned to Susan.

She didn't know exactly how two women had sex, but she imagined
that it involved rubbing their pussies together. And it probably
had the usual things to do with tongues and fingers. At that, she
slid her own finger into her pussy. The heel of her palm rested
on her mound and she pressed it against the base of her clit.

She moaned softly as the water sloshed about her, the suds
rippling with her motions. She tweaked and tugged her nipples,
her other hand busy between her legs. She pushed a second finger
into her pussy, savoring the feeling.

She remembered Susan from earlier, lying on her back, a light
sheen of cocoa butter making her body shine. Her chestnut pubic
hair glistened in the sunlight, and Beth thought she'd been able
to see her slit.

She imagined the scene again and wondered if she'd have the nerve
to touch another woman's pussy. She'd always been fascinated by
breasts, and knew she'd like to suck another woman's nipples. But
could she do more? Could she actually go down on another woman?

She stopped asking herself questions as she felt the first
twinges of orgasm. It welled up within her and her senses
sharpened. She felt every ripple of water, heard the sounds of it
lapping gently as she fingered herself, smelled the fragrant
scent of the bath oil.

She closed her eyes and arched her back, her fingers thrusting
hard between her legs. She stopped tugging her nipples with the
other hand and lowered it to her clit. She exploded as soon as
she touched it, lightning bolts of pleasure erupting in her
brain. The soapy water streamed from her breasts as her back
arched. Waves of pleasure assaulted her, battering her senses
until she sagged back, the water sloshing around her.

Slowly, slowly she came to her senses. Her chest still heaved
with the effort of breathing, the sudsy water in front of her
rippling with the effort. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry from
panting.

Her body was still tingling and she eased her fingers from her
pussy. The pads of her fingertips felt wrinkled, not from the
water, but from her own juices. She closed her eyes and rested
her head on the back of the tub, still breathing heavily. Then
she smiled as she imagined Susan's look of approval.

**

Jack left the ready room after a long night with Commander
Featherston and the squadron's Intel Officer. They'd been working
on the myriad of details for the next day's strike.

For today's strike_,_ he corrected himself after a glance at his
watch. He scrubbed his face with a hand and yawned. Even though
he was several decks below, he could hear the sound of flight
operations, the distant thump of the steam catapults firing. The
carrier was launching the planes of the CAP, the F-4s that
constantly guarded the ship.

He thought about stopping by the mess for a cup of coffee, but
decided against it. He had a letter from Susan waiting in his
cabin, and he planned to climb into his rack and read it before
he went to sleep.

He finally reached the cabin and shut the door behind him. He
shed his uniform and tried to work the kinks from his muscles.
Eventually, he grabbed the unopened letter and climbed into bed.

He lay atop the blanket and gazed at Susan's handwriting, stylish
and confident. He held the letter to his nose and inhaled deeply.
He didn't know how many hands it had passed through, but he could
still smell _her_ on it. She didn't spray her letters with
perfume like some of the other wives did, but he could still pick
out her scent.

He closed his eyes and held his breath as long as he could. He
let it out and breathed in again, the image of Susan in his mind.
She was sitting at her dressing table, wearing a loose-fitting
blouse, her hair pinned back. She wore a look of concentration as
she filled the letter with her life, connecting him to a world he
hadn't known for many months.

Eventually, he opened the letter, careful not to tear the
envelope. He kept all of her letters, safe in a box in the bottom
desk drawer. He kept the boys' letters too, and even pinned some
of them to the corkboard behind his desk. The board was nearly
full now, with pictures and drawings and mementos from home.

_Home,_ he thought, catching another whiff of Susan as he
unfolded the letter.

He read. The boys were happy to be out of school for the summer,
and they were starting to get excited about his return. They'd
made a calendar and taped it to the refrigerator, crossing off
the days, counting down to August 24th.

Susan was doing well, but she missed him. She was keeping busy,
though, and told him that Beth had helped her replant the front
flowerbeds. The California weather was so dry that she had to
water the flowers every day, but she didn't mind. She did it
every morning before meeting Beth for their walk.

She also told him that she and Beth had begun sunbathing in the
semi-privacy of the Hugheses' backyard. He perked up at that,
reading Susan's description of the conversation in Beth's
bathroom. Susan didn't tell him _everything_ she shared with
Beth, but he could imagine the sexual tension as the two women
gazed into the mirror.

Then he got to the part where Susan described Beth's body. It was
the first time she'd seen her completely nude, and Jack was eager
to know what she looked like. He re-read the passage several
times. Then he closed his eyes and let his imagination conjure
Beth.

_Generous breasts... pink nipples... flat stomach... dark blonde bush...
full hips... firm legs..._

Susan hadn't used quite those words, but his imagination picked
up where her description left off. He was still thinking about
Beth when he set the letter on his chest and stripped off his
skivvies. He was already hard, and he stroked himself idly.

He imagined having sex with Susan and Beth at the same time, one
of them riding him while the other straddled his face. Then he
imagined fucking Beth, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Several
scenes flashed through his imagination, each one wilder than the
last.

He stroked himself as he fucked the fantasy women. The tension
mounted in his balls, so he slowed his pace. Finally, he stopped
altogether. He didn't want to come too soon, after all. His mind
wandered.

He used to jokingly complain that he hadn't sown his wild oats
before he got married, but that wasn't quite true. He introduced
a fair number of women to his wild oats before he met Susan.
Still, he didn't want to think of himself as "settled." He might
not be the devil-may-care bachelor he'd once been, but he
definitely wasn't ready for life as a staid married man.

His thoughts returned to sex with two women, and he found himself
thinking about the first time he'd managed it. Although, if he
told the absolute truth, he hadn't "managed" it at all--the women
had. He'd been eighteen, visiting his parents on a summer
vacation before his first year at the Citadel. They were in
Turkey, where his father was a liaison for the State Department
and a consortium of business interests.

His parents had been busy with official luncheons and diplomatic
parties, though. So Jack had been left to his own devices in a
country where he didn't speak the language. Fortunately, the only
language he really wanted to speak was nautical.

He loved sailing as much as flying--more, perhaps--and some of
his best boyhood memories were of sailing with his grandfather in
Charleston Harbor. He missed those days, but he refused to dwell
on the past. So while his parents were socializing with Turkey's
elite, Jack spent all of his time with his father's pride and
joy, the _Mistral_, a New York 40 racing sloop.

Jack loved the sleek boat as much as his father did. It had been
designed and built by Nat Herreshoff--the finest yacht designer
ever, as far as Jack was concerned--and it was a wooden work of
art. And it was Jack's sole companion for the summer.

He wanted to cruise the Aegean Sea, but he couldn't sail the boat
by himself, so he recruited the son of another diplomat. Once
through the Dardanelles, their first port of call was a popular
vacation town. Jack only planned a quick stop for water, diesel,
and fresh stores, but he and his friend met three Turkish girls
on the quay. They were on holiday from college, and were curious
about the two Americans.

Jack had never been shy, and he struck up a conversation. Much to
his disappointment, the prettiest girl had been smitten with his
friend. The two of them quickly found an excuse to slip off
together.

The remaining two girls were cousins, Nesrin and Dilara. They
were both plumper than he usually liked, but pretty enough.
Nesrin was more his type--curvy, with dark eyes and darker hair--
but she barely said a word, while Dilara was the one who spoke
English.

He desperately wanted to find a way to get rid of Dilara so he
could spend some time alone with Nesrin. He boldly imagined that
the international language of love--and his irresistible American
charm--would soon have Nesrin swooning for him. But he was a
gentleman, and he didn't want to simply abandon Dilara.

So he invited the girls to go sailing on the _Mistral_. The winds
were light enough that he could handle the boat by himself. If
not, the girls could belay or haul a line when told.

The older Jack recalled with a dark chuckle that he'd been half
hoping Dilara would get seasick and spend her time below. Much to
the younger Jack's disappointment, she quickly got her sea legs.
But she also pulled off her T-shirt and shorts, revealing a
bikini instead of a one-piece bathing suit. Nesrin smiled and
followed suit.

Jack stripped off his T-shirt--to impress Nesrin--but _Dilara_
paid more attention to him. He was trying to hide his annoyance
when she floored him with a question.

"Do you mind if we take the sun too?" she asked. "Without our...
How you say...? Topless?"

He quickly recovered his composure and said, "Be my guest."

The girls casually removed their bikini tops, revealing light
olive breasts with dark nipples. Jack grinned in reply to
Dilara's challenging look. Unfortunately, he needed to change
course before he ran afoul of a fisherman's nets. He reluctantly
tore his eyes from the topless girls and concentrated on sailing.

He put the helm down and let the boat fall off, easing the main
sheet as he did. A minute later he steadied on the starboard tack
with the wind on the quarter. He trimmed the jib to take
advantage of the light wind, and began a broad reach to the
southwest.

Once he returned to the cockpit, they chatted amiably for almost
an hour. Dilara translated for Nesrin, who merely smiled and
laughed at his jokes. He enjoyed the attention, and the girls
didn't seem to mind his wandering eyes.

When Dilara wanted him to show her how to steer, he gladly
obliged. She stood at the wheel and he wrapped his arms around
her to help. He bent close, inhaling the scent of soap and warm
skin. It was a heady mixture, and he felt his dick harden. Dilara
felt it too, and glanced at him playfully.

"Would you like a tour of the cabin?" he asked.

"Does this boat have... uh... beds?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Do you want me to show you...?"

"Oh, yes," Dilara said. "That would be fun."

"What about Nesrin?" he asked. He didn't know when he'd changed
his mind about which girl he was interested in, but he wasn't
willing to simply abandon Nesrin, either.

"Can you give _two_ tours?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up, but he merely nodded. "Sure," he said,
"I can do that."

"We would like that very much. We never have an American... tour."

Unfortunately, he couldn't leave the helm while the boat was
still under way. Dilara sat back on the coaming and started
whispering and giggling with Nesrin, both of them darting glances
at the lump of his erection.

Jack shaded his eyes and scanned for someplace sheltered to
anchor. The closest place was a rocky island about a mile to the
southeast. With a confident grin, he told the girls to hold on
and to keep their heads down.

He gauged the wind and the boat's course, sensing a dozen
variables at once. The wind was just light enough, he decided. He
put the helm over and abruptly gybed the boat. The wind came aft
and he kept an eye on the mainsail as the bow swung through the
compass.

A sound to port gave him a second's warning, and he made sure the
girls were out of harm's way. He unconsciously ducked as the boom
swung over his head with a heavy creak. Once he settled the boat
onto its new course, he had Dilara hold the wheel. Then he jumped
forward to re-trim the jib.

Fifteen minutes later they fetched the island and Jack made for a
sheltered cove. He lowered the mainsail and put the helm into the
wind. The jib backed and filled, and he went forward to set the
anchor. His erection was obvious, but he didn't care, especially
since the girls were eyeing it eagerly.

"Well," he said at last, hopping into the cockpit, "are you ready
for that tour now?"

They giggled as he led them below, to the captain's stateroom. He
normally kept it neat--he kept _everything_ neat when he lived
aboard--so he didn't suffer the embarrassment of having to pick
up underwear (or worse).

He was a little nervous, but decided to play it cool, trusting
his instincts. He took turns kissing the girls, their bare
breasts pressed against his equally bare chest. They tumbled on
the bed and Jack put Dilara's hand on his erection. She didn't
shy away. Instead, she brazenly pulled back and concentrated on
opening his fly.

He pulled Nesrin down and kissed her fiercely. Dilara cooed when
she freed his erection. Then she said something in Turkish, and
Nesrin broke the kiss.

"We thought you might be like other Christians," Dilara said,
eyeing his manhood.

Jack furrowed his brow.

"They are un... uncir..." She searched for the word, but then
shrugged. "They have their..."

She said something that sounded like "force kings." Jack shook
his head, distracted by her hand on his dick.

"You know," she continued. "The skin around their cocks?"

"Oh, fore_skin_," Jack said.

"But you are like Turkish men," Dilara said, "like Muslims."

Nesrin said something in Turkish, and Dilara smiled.

"Nesrin says she likes your cock. This is the right word? Cock?"

Jack waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "It's the right word all
right." He pushed his shorts down and kicked them aside, his
erection waving as he rolled upright.

He gently pushed Dilara to her back and reached for her bikini
bottoms. She didn't resist, and even grinned as he tugged them
over her hips. Then he got the shock of his life.

In the present, the older Jack chuckled at his remembered
confusion and astonishment. Then he began stroking himself again.
He closed his eyes and returned to his memories.

"You don't have any hair," he said to Dilara, her bikini bottoms
halfway down her thighs.

She grinned. "Like a harem girl."

"A harem girl...?"

"You do not like?" she said, frowning.

Jack quickly shook his head. "No, I mean--" He abruptly nodded.
"Yes, I--" He started to shake his head again, but stopped. "I
like it a lot," he finally blurted.

Dilara's expression went from hurt to delighted. "You do?"

Jack didn't answer with words. Instead, he threw her legs in the
air and yanked her bikini bottoms the rest of the way off. He
flung them aside and gazed down at her hairless sex, her lips
already dark and plump with arousal.

Nesrin giggled and pretended to fight him off as he did the same
to her, revealing her own hairless pussy. Dilara reached for his
cock and he kissed her. Then he switched to Nesrin, his hands
searching between her legs until he found the smooth skin of her
mound.

Back in the present, Jack opened his eyes, the twinges of an
orgasm tingling in his balls. He grinned at the memory of long-
ago events on the _Mistral_. He had fucked the two girls non-stop
for nearly two hours. Then they'd taken a break and gone for a
swim to cool off.

When they returned to the warm deck of the boat, the
Mediterranean sun dried them as they had sex again. Afterward,
they cleaned up and lounged in the cockpit, drinking Fanta.

Later that afternoon, they'd gone below and started fooling
around again. Jack had fucked each of them before pulling out and
coming on Dilara's heaving belly. He could still remember the
sight of his red glans spurting white semen onto her olive skin.

Present-day Jack held that image in his mind, as vivid as the day
it happened. His back and legs tensed as he continued stroking
himself. With a groan, he felt the semen surge up his shaft, a
hot spurt splattering over his belly. The second spurt gushed
over his hand. His cock continued to throb as he stroked himself
gently.

Finally, he relaxed and sagged to the mattress. He was breathing
hard, and he saw spots before his eyes. His body tingled and he
continued panting, his thoughts on the Turkish girls so many
years in the past.

After their afternoon in the cove, he'd sailed back to the resort
town, motoring up to the quay as the dying rays of the sun filled
the western sky with a red-orange glow. His friend and the
prettiest girl had been waiting for them. They'd both looked
freshly scrubbed and worn out.

The five of them had eaten dinner near the harbor, and spent the
night aboard the boat. The sounds from the other cabin were
enough to keep Jack horny all night. Dilara and Nesrin didn't
seem to mind. Everyone had looked exhausted but happy at
breakfast the next morning.

The girls eventually said goodbye, laughing and waving as they
walked up the quay. Jack and his friend merely smirked at one
another as they took on water and diesel. He never saw the girls
again. He and his friend had other adventures that summer, but
none compared to the Turkish girls.

His mind returned to the present, and he smiled up at the
darkened overhead. He'd been fascinated by Dilara and Nesrin's
hairless pussies, especially the sight as he slid his light-
skinned dick into them.

At the time--the ultra-conservative Fifties--he couldn't imagine
an American woman shaving her pubic hair. But now it was 1966,
not 1954. Twelve years made a world of difference, and American
women had begun to change.

He snorted softly. _Susan_ hadn't changed, but she made even the
Sixties seem prosaic by comparison. And it had taken him several
years to get used to the idea that his wife was anything but
normal. He thought about the Turkish girls' shaved pussies--
exotic and taboo--and wondered if Susan would be willing to
change for him.

He looked at his watch. It was well after two in the morning. He
had to fly a mission in less than eight hours, but he was wide
awake. He cleaned himself up, slipped into his skivvies, and
turned on his desk light. The metal of his chair was cold against
his bare back as he took out paper and pen.

**

"You won't believe what Jack wants me to do," Susan blurted in
surprise, holding up a letter.

She and Beth usually read them together while they sunbathed,
sharing tidbits and reading passages aloud. Between David's
letters and Jack's photographs, Beth had a fair idea of life
aboard the carrier.

"What?" she asked.

"He wants me to shave."

Beth felt her brow furrow. "Don't you shave already?"

"Of course. But he's not talking about my legs or underarms."

"What then?"

"My pubic hair," Susan said, amusement and disbelief in her
voice.

"He wants you to _what?_"

"He wants me to shave my bush."

Beth was dumbfounded.

"That's what _I_ thought," Susan said, nodding at Beth's
expression.

"He wants you to shave... down _there?_"

Susan nodded, but then shook her head in wonder.

"_Why?_ Won't it make you look like a young girl?"

"Hardly," Susan said, sitting up.

Beth suppressed a stir of emotion at the sight of Susan's body.
She'd grown more accustomed to it over the weeks, but she still
felt a rush of arousal every time they sunbathed together.

She'd quit trying to deny that she was attracted to the other
woman. She'd even quit trying to convince herself that it was
wrong. She wasn't... one of _them_--she still wouldn't even think
the word--but she didn't have a name for how she felt.

She fantasized about David all the time, although she sometimes
added Susan to the mix. Lately, she'd been thinking more and more
about Susan alone. With a shake to clear her head, she returned
her attention to the flesh-and-blood Susan.

"With _my_ breasts?" Susan asked rhetorically. "I may not be
Jayne Mansfield, but I'm no flat-chested girl. And my hips...?
Babies have a way of spreading things out."

"_Tell_ me about it," Beth said. She sat up herself, leaning on
one arm and tucking her legs beneath her.

Susan spread her legs as if she were going to cross them.
Instead, she looked down and put her hand on her stomach. "He
wants me to shave," she mused quietly, running her fingers
through her chestnut pubic hair.

Beth felt a rush of heat through her cheeks. The afternoon was
warm, but not _that_ warm.

"I used to be so proud of my bush," Susan said, lost in
remembrance. "I thought, 'Now I _look_ like a woman.'" She
shrugged. "I always knew I'd get breasts--my mother had a healthy
bosom--but my pubic hair always seemed to be a badge of honor. My
first period was anticlimactic by contrast."

Beth looked a question at her.

"No one _saw_ my first period. Sure, I wore bikini bottoms for a
couple of days, to hide the pads--" Suddenly, she laughed. "Do
you remember when we still called them feminine napkins? And when
they thought young ladies shouldn't use tampons?" She sighed.
"Oh, those were the days. So naive..."

"No kidding."

"But where was I?" Susan said. "Oh, yes. I was always so proud of
my pubic hair, because it made me look like the other women. It's
different growing up at a nudist camp--I saw people's bodies all
the time. And instead of being ashamed, I was curious. I wanted
to _look_ like them, to be normal."

"That's not so unusual," Beth said. "I remember seeing Ginny and
wanting to look like her. But she's not that much older, so I
knew I wouldn't have to wait long."

"Well, I didn't _have_ an older sister. I had a full-grown
mother, and other women who _looked_ like women, with all the
usual curves and hair."

Beth nodded.

Susan laughed ironically. "I never realized how much I wanted to
fit in, to seem normal. I always thought I was a rebel. You know,
like a female Jack Kerouac or something."

"Susan MacLean, _On the Road_?" Beth joked.

"Something like that."

Beth nodded, recalling Susan's maiden name too late.

"But yes," Susan continued, "I always thought I was a rebel. I
knew more about business and finance than most _men_. I read the
newspaper instead of homemaking magazines. I talked to my parents
about politics, and morals, and ethics. I lived at a nudist camp,
and I wasn't ashamed of my body. I wasn't like other girls my
age."

"No, you weren't," Beth said softly. _You still aren't._

"So I guess it surprises me when I realize how much I wanted to
fit in, to be normal. But I'm _not_ normal. I'm _not_ like other
women." She looked up quickly, guiltily. "Present company
excepted, of course."

Beth smiled with amusement. "Of course."

"But I'm serious. I'm _not_ like other women. I'm not like Mary
Scarlatti or Phyllis Waulk. I'm not some busybody homemaker or
social climber. I'm not even like most of my friends!"

"Present company excepted, of course," Beth teased.

Susan rolled her eyes. "You? Hardly! You're not my friend."

Beth started to frown in puzzlement, but Susan grinned.

"You're more like my sister... or the other half of me. You're like
Jack, only closer. In many ways, at least."

Beth swallowed hard and fought not to look away.

"But you know what I mean."

"Thank you," Beth said softly.

"We're not like other women, Beth," Susan said, her voice low and
intense.

The silence drew out, and Beth tried not to fidget. "So what are
you going to do?" she said at last.

"About what?"

"About what Jack wants."

Susan laughed. "I'm not going to be like other women, that's for
sure."

"So you're going to do it?"

"Sure! Why not? If that's what Jack wants, then that's what I'll
give him. If he wants a bald beaver--"

"Susan!"

She grinned impishly. "If he wants a bald beaver, then that's
what he'll get." Her eyes sparkled with determination. "I just
hope I don't cut myself," she added, chuckling.

"Ouch!"

"No kidding. Those are tender parts, and I kinda like playing
with them... _without_ bloodshed."

Beth blushed again, the tips of her ears heating.

"Oh, don't be such a prude," Susan chided playfully.

"I'm not a prude," Beth said, drawing herself up. "I just have a
sense of... decorum."

"Well, I do too... but not when we're talking about my soon-to-be-
bald beaver."

"Susan! Do you have to keep calling it that?"

"What? 'Beaver'?"

Beth rolled her eyes.

"Beaver, beaver, beaver. You have one too."

"But I don't talk about it all the time."

"Maybe you should," Susan said. "It's a very nice beaver, after
all."

Beth's face felt hotter than ever, and she looked away. She was
afraid to meet Susan's eyes. She didn't want her to see the
flames of desire that lurked beneath the embarrassment.

**

Beth looked up as the front door opened.

Susan swept into the house. "I did it," she said, obviously
excited.

Paul was playing with his blocks, and he grinned at the sight of
Susan.

"Did what?" Beth asked as she finished putting Erin's hat on.

"_It_," Susan said enigmatically.

Beth half-scowled at her.

"B-A-L-D B-E-A-V-E-R."

Beth fought not to laugh. Paul repeated everything he heard, and
she had a sudden image of him saying "Bald beaver" to Mary
Scarlatti.

"I did it last night in the bath," Susan said. "It took me thirty
minutes, too! I went through two razor blades. But it's smooth as
a baby's bottom. Do you want to see?" She began to undo the
button of her shorts.

"Later," Beth blurted.

"Oh! Sorry. I guess I'm just a little excited, and you're the
only person I can tell. Well, not the _only_ person. I wrote a
_scorcher_ of a letter to Jack last night. I was up till
midnight. I had to take care of things three times."

"_Three_ times?"

Susan nodded, unabashed. "Once when I was done shaving, and twice
while I was writing to Jack."

"_While_ you were writing...?"

"Sure," Susan said dryly. "Don't you"--she wiggled her fingers--
"take care of yourself when you write one of your fantasy
letters?"

"After," Beth admitted. "But usually not during."

"Well, I was a little worked up. And I had to take the old beaver
for a spin."

Beth rolled her eyes and lifted Erin into her arms. "Are you
ready to go?"

"Changing the subject?" Susan teased, her eyes glinting with
mischief.

"Yes."

"You know I'm just going to bring it up after lunch. Or rather,
I'm going to bring it _out_."

"You have no shame, do you?" Beth didn't wait for an answer.
Instead, she began strapping Erin into the stroller.

Susan picked up Paul. "Tell your mommy that Aunt Susan has no
shame."

"Aunt Susan has no shame," he parroted gleefully.

"You're a wicked woman, Susan."

"I know," she said, lighthearted and whimsical. "That's why you
love me."

_That and more,_ Beth thought. _That and more._

**

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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