The Crew Pt. 06

This is part six in the series about The Crew and friends. And family. And family family. Again, some new faces appear, and some new developments too. All characters are at least eighteen years old. Many spend most of their time in nothing but all over skin. Whenever and wherever possible. Locations discussed may at times seem familiar, but don't waste your time trying to figure out where in the real world events might be taking place. This is a fictional world and these are fictional people. Think alternative universe.

As always, reading the previous chapters will help you make sense of this one, and reading naked will probably make the experience more enjoyable. I write all this naked. Why not join in? Enjoy.

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

I woke up alone in the hammock on Scooter and Pete's screened porch. The sun was up, but just barely. There were only a couple of boats on the river, sparse traffic for a Saturday morning. It was sure to pick up though, in an hour or so, with the weekend anglers heading out to the bay and the big lake beyond where the walleye and perch would be hitting.

Still groggy but needing to pee, and achingly hard, I scrambled out of the hammock. It's not a graceful process and I'm usually happy if I can avoid a faceplant on the deck. I have no idea how Scooter pulled it off without waking me. Once upright, I ambled into the house to see if I could get in the bathroom. The door was ajar and the shower was running. Through the partially open door, I could see Pete and Marcie washing each other.

Turning away, I went straight to plan B. I went back outside, exited the porch, checked the line of sight, and watered the flowers off the side of the deck. Then I stood looking down at the river. Almost content, but not quite. My bladder was relieved but a serious case of morning wood remained, sticking out perpendicular to my body. Hoping it would go down on its own, I made my way back inside and into the kitchen intending to make some coffee. There was some already brewed and waiting, along with a note on the counter.

"Ran to the diner to pick up some Danish. Be right back. Love, Scoot."

I took my coffee back out to the deck. I thought about wandering down to the dock. But no. None of the neighbors close by really care about all over skin, especially that early. And I'm not shy. Still, I don't make a habit of walking around with a hard-on swinging in front of me. Instead, I took a seat on the steps and watched the early wash over the river. Slowly, the caffeine started to kick in.

I finished that first cup and thought about getting a refill. I didn't know when Scooter had left, but I did know the diner was out on the state road, on the edge of Vicksville. It took about ten minutes to get there and ten minutes back. And, she'd probably hang around talking to Bobbi, at least for a bit. I needed a shower. I looked down at my dick, which didn't show signs of softening anytime soon.

Pete and Marcie were still in the one in the house. I checked. No problem. Off to the side of the screened-in porch was an outside shower. Not ideal, but fine in a pinch. I didn't even bother getting a towel. I could air dry.

There was plenty of hot water and it felt great as it pounded my naked skin in the morning cool. I lathered and rinsed, even washing my hair with the bar soap. Then I just stood there letting the spray massage my shoulders and back. In the process, my thoughts drifted back to the shower with Bobbi and Scoot at the farm, and the way Scoot's body had felt laying skin to skin next to me last night. My cock was harder than ever. Way beyond morning wood.

I wrapped my hand around the shaft and stroked. Slowly. Eyes closed. I soaped up my hand for better lubrication and felt my knees weaken a little as my slippery fingers slid up my shaft and over my swollen glans. I let myself go with it. Thoughts of Bobbi. Thoughts of Scoot. Even thoughts of Marcie.

I felt my breathing quicken and I knew I could blow any time if I wanted. But I held back, keeping the pace of my strokes slow, fantasizing that I was sliding just as slowly into and out of a willing woman. Taking my time. Building desperation. Aching to...

Just before I climaxed, I opened my eyes. Scooter was standing there watching me from the other side of the screen. Her lips were curled in a half-smile, the fingers of one hand pinching and twisting a nipple, the fingers of the other sliding and dancing through the open folds of her pussy and over her clit. Her eyes were fixed on my cock as I started to squirt. I shot again and again. Three, maybe four times. Then oozed. At the same time, almost in time with my pulsing shots, Scooter's body jerked. It looked like she felt them, vicariously, spurt by spurt, blasting out of my shaft as though it was her own, doubling her almost in half, even causing one knee to bend and lift her foot from the floor.

We kept our eyes on one another as we recovered ourselves. Breathing. Calm. Our bodies slowly straightened. Presently, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well then," I said. "That just happened."

"Yes it did!" she agreed. Then she reached behind her and picked up a plate from the arm of the nearest Adirondack chair. Turned back and held it out to me.

"Danish?" she offered.

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

Marcie, Scooter, Pete and I were out on the deck drinking our third pot of naked coffee when Robb and Sharon showed up with my parents in tow around 11:00. Like us, they were all nude. They'd ridden that way from Robb and Sharon's house. In Robb's '77 Cordoba convertible. With the top down. Their clothes were all in one huge beach bag. They were going to take the boat out to Nugent's Point in Rock Harbor for lunch. They'd wait until just before they got there to get dressed. After that, their plan was to head out onto the big lake and fish for the afternoon, then stop at The Roundhouse Bar out on the island and hear whatever live local singer or country band was playing.

They offered to take us along, but we declined. "No...you guys just go and have fun," Scooter told them. We had a feeling a little more than fishing was on the agenda for their afternoon. Sharon's and my mom's nipples were standing out hard on tight crinkled circles. Robb and my dad both had semi-hards going. Not standing up, but thick and long. Marcie checked them both out and smiled. They smiled back. Her own adorable nips were beginning to stand out as well. She shifted a little in her seat and her legs opened up. I had no way of knowing if it was still from her shower with Pete or a newer development, but it really didn't matter. The folds of her sex were open and out there for anyone to see. Slightly puffy and more than slightly moist, nestled between her hairless labia, crowned with a thick little natural swath of blonde curls which matched the unruly shoulder length curls on her head. She trimmed it small enough to accommodate any bikini or thong, though she rarely wore either.

We followed them down to the dock. Once they were aboard, we untied and pushed them off as Robb fired up the engine. After they pulled away, we all went back up to the deck. We fired up a bowl, finished the third pot of coffee, and the Danish, and spent some time sitting and watching the boats go by. None of us had anything pressing to do.

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

I was was spending that weekend at Scoot and Pete's. They worked with Robb and when he was off, they were off. And, none of us were needed at the farm. Things there were at a lull for another week or so, until the next cutting of hay. Herbie, a kid from the next farm over, would come by twice a day to feed and water the animals and cover the milking. And, more than likely, sometime during the weekend, his older sister and her best friend would tag along "to pet the goats". Then the three of them would end up skinny dipping back at the quarry.

Marcie normally would have been at the diner, but traded shifts so Bobbi could come to Sal's party on Friday. So she was free for the day as well. And, she felt no need to stay close and keep an eye on Maurice. He wasn't around. He seldom drank during the day anyway, but never with customers out on a paying charter. His Saturdays were like clockwork. Three o'clock, he'd pull up to the dock and tie off. Then he'd hose down the decks and secure all the gear. By 4:30, more or less, he was done, showered and shaved. Then he'd climb into his truck and leave to go pick up his "friend" Miss Betty, who owned and ran the diner. She closed at 3:00 on Saturdays. Maurice would be home sometime before 10:00 Sunday night.

Maurice and Miss Betty had been "a thing" for a long time. Marcie's mom passed away a dozen years ago. Maurice took it really hard, which was one of the reasons Marcie became such a fixture at Sharon and Robb's next door. As much as possible, river people look after their own. It took two years before Maurice started coming out of his shell. During that time, Miss Betty made a point of checking in on him and the little girl. Bringing by extra food or treats. Taking her out to shop for school clothes. That sort of thing. She had never remarried after her husband was killed in the battle for Hue during the Tet Offensive in Vietnam. Early 1968. Never wanted another husband. She even tore up and sent back the monthly government check. Like the girl in that Steve Goodman song. But, over time, she and Maurice became "friends".

"Just friends," they both insisted. Marcie credited that decade of "friendship" with saving her father's life.

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

We hung out at the house and relaxed, watched boats, snacked on the rest of the leftovers from Froggie's, and broke out the D&D. Pete and I had been promising to teach Scoot. Pete had been playing for years. With Frank and Izzy. They sort of discovered it by accident. Walked into a comic book shop in Toledo one day and saw some people playing. Got hooked on the strategy part of it all. But they kept it all on the down-low. The three of them also played football in junior high and high school and didn't want the other jocks to know. It could have been brutal. They started calling themselves The Underground Nerds. Then they got me into it. Being a writer, I loved it. In my way of thinking, it was another cool way to craft a story.

We set up out on the deck and played for about an hour and a half, Pete and I coaching Scooter. At first, Marcie just watched and asked questions. We kept the rules simple so they could just get a feel for the game. Scoot caught on pretty quickly. Marcie? Not so much...until she decided all on her own that she was this naked seductive elvish wizard queen who could pop in at random, distracting other players, issuing challenges, throwing up obstacles, bestowing or taking away special powers. Her sexy wizard could appear or disappear at will and pretty much do whatever she pleased. Strangely enough, a lot like the real Marcie.

Bobbi called right after the diner closed. Just as we were packing up the game. Pete ran into the house and got to it first, listened, then handed it off to me. She said she was sorry but wanted to let me know that she wasn't coming over as planned. All she told me was that she needed to figure some things out and hoped to work on preventing some "major drama" from going really sideways. Beyond that, she couldn't talk about it right then. "Maybe tomorrow..." she said. Then she asked me to give the phone to Scooter.

Given Bobbi's family, I could only imaging what "major drama" might be in the offing. At nineteen, she was the oldest of four kids. She basically ran the house and tried, in the face of constant resistance, to provide a voice of sanity for her sibs. "Going sideways" was her way of describing what was often business as usual. Her parents both worked, and spent most of their home time fighting. She knew that her mother was in an affair and suspected the same to be true of her father. Her younger sister, aged 17, had a thing for much older guys, especially those with tattoos and motorcycles. The girlfriends or wives of those much older guys were not often inclined to be understanding. Or non-violent. And Bobbi's brothers, fifteen and sixteen, envisioned themselves to be part of some strange emerging breed of rural hip-hop gangster wannabe's. Both had been arrested at least one time or another for breaking and entering. Both were a step away from spending the rest of the teen years in juvie. Or worse.

Scooter was on the phone with her for over an hour. When she finally hung up, she looked at me and sighed. Big. I started to ask but she cut me off with the look. "Later..." she said, holding her hands up and walking away. "We all know when Bobbi says she wants to be left alone, you leave her alone. I'll check with her tomorrow..." She returned a short time later. With the pipe. And a half-size mason jar of herb. She went out and sat down on the deck, assuming her naked lotus position. She silently loaded and lit up. Passed it to Pete, who passed it to Marcie.

They were watching her, concerned, but said nothing. I tried. "We can see there's someth..." She cut me off with the look and the hand. Intercepted the pipe as Marcie tried to pass it to me. "None for him..."

"Sorry. None for you," she told me. "You're the designated driver."

"Driver to where?" I asked.

"I don't know yet," she answered.

The pipe made its way around the three of them several times. This was the "inhibitions go bye-bye" herb from my mother's latest strain. Being the designated driver, it was fascinating to watch the calm roll in on the other three. Scooter was off in some zone with Petey, at times using words from the private twin language they had developed as kids. Marcie was being...well...Marcie. And maybe the most clearly Marcie that I'd ever seen her. Ambidextrously amorous, moving seamlessly between Pete and myself. Outsiders might think her a slut, but she's nothing like that. Those of us who know her well, have come to see that she simply has a heart too big to be nailed down to only one person...at least for now. Scooter was watching her out of the corner of her eye while talking with Pete.

Marcie had just sidled up to me again, slipping an arm around my back and cupping her hand around one of the cheeks of my ass. Then she kissed me. Softly. Slowly. Open mouthed. Tongue to tongue. All the while squeezing the cheek in her hand. She looked over at Pete. He just shrugged and went back to talking with Scoot. She turned her attention back to me. My cock, which had been fulling up nicely already, suddenly sprang to full life, it's tip coming to rest on her navel. "I'm horny," she giggled to me. "And it looks like you are too." She licked my earlobe and bit it, then whispered, "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

I looked from Scooter to Pete. Pete shrugged again. Scoot smirked. I looked back to Marcie.

"Don't panic," she said. "I'm not 'in love' with you. I just love you. You're my friend." Her other hand...the one not groping my ass...ran its fingers over my chest and down my abs, coming to rest just above my shaft. "I'm horny. You're horny. We're friends. Can two horny friends still be friends and play? And not feel the need to try and make it into something more? Something it's not? Like you and Laurel this morning, during your shower?"

"You saw that?" I asked.

"I did," she said. "I'd never tell anyone. But I really liked watching. I've never watched a guy do that before. It was hot." Her hand cupped my balls. "And I liked it when Laurel and you were watching Petey and me last night."

"So you knew," Scooter said.

"We both did," Pete told her, looking a little embarrassed. "At first it felt kinda strange, you know. Making out and knowing that you guys were watching. But then, it was like it became like sort of a really intense turn on. I can't explain it. It's just like it made everything seem so much more intense. More real."

It was like someone turned on a light in Scooter's head. "Let's go," she said jumping up. "I don't care where. Let's just get in the car and drive." Marcie looked at her with an exaggerated pout. Scoot pulled her away from me and pushed her toward the screened porch with a laugh and a swat on her butt. "Driver?" she said to me, pointing toward the house. I went, but dodged the swat. Pete was already in when the phone rang again. He grabbed it and fended her off as she tried to snatch it from his hand.

"Really?" he said to whoever. "Awesome! Yeah. Maybe tonight. We're all heading out the door right now. OK. So count on it. Otherwise, I'll call you back later and let you know." He then hung up. Smiling.

"YES!!!" he shouted, pumping the air. "I know where we're going," he told us.

None of us asked. We just waited.

"Toledo," he told us.

Scoot rolled her eyes. "Why?"

"Dean just called Izzy. The Underground Nerds are this year's pick for the Game Place Advanced D&D Hall of Fame. The prize is a deluxe pre-release version of the new Greyhawk Wars. It came in this afternoon and Izzy asked if I could pick it up at the store. The campground's full tonite and they can't break away. It should be a pretty quick in and out. Dean's already got a picture of us for the wall."

Dean was the owner of Game Place Comics and Cards and Stuff in Toledo. Their "hall of fame" was really not much more than a way to reward the people who hung out there to play board and card games and browse through the mountains of comic books. And it was a good excuse to give away special promotional game and card releases. Free word of mouth publicity.

Our clothes from Sal's party were still in a pile on the floor inside the back door. Scooter picked them up and one by one tossed them back to the floor. "Too wrinkled," she said, then to me, "I hope you have something else in your car."

"Always," I said. "You know that."

"Dibs on your Mud Hens shirt," Pete called as he came from his room wearing only his usual cargo shorts. "I didn't do laundry yet. And I love that shirt." I sighed. So do I.

Scooter came out of her room with two simple dresses. Those one piece silky summery things that swish and move and are almost but not quite transparent if the light's just right. She tossed one to Marcie then pulled her own over her head. It draped her hips and ass nicely and ended a little less than half way down her thighs, still showing off a lot of firm toned leg. It was also tight enough to show her nipples poking at the fabric.

Marcie is taller than Scooter and has bigger tits. The effect was dramatic. Her boobs were straining at the top and the hem barely reached below her ass in back. Scoot tugged on it. Made her turn around. Tugged again.

"It'll be fine," she finally pronounced. "Just don't bend over or dance or frolic or anything. And try to remember not to reach up and hug anybody."

"Oh yeah. That's likely," Pete snickered in my direction.

Out in the yard, I popped my trunk and threw Pete the Mud Hens shirt. I pulled on my own cargo shorts and settled on a Clash tee shirt. Combat Rock. As I came around the Bonneville, Marcie and Scoot were already in the back seat. Giggling. And naked again. "We didn't want to wrinkle. We'll put them back on when we get to Toledo," Scoot said. I knew better than to argue.

Petey rode shotgun and took charge of tunes. The girls were singing and waving to cars as we passed. More than a few times, a man would smile and wave back enthusiastically only to earn a smack and a stern rebuke from his wife or girlfriend. Most folks, though, seemed amused. In one case, a convertible overflowing with guys and girls about our own age pulled up beside us at a light. They all waved and cheered. Then, to our surprise, the four girls in the car all peeled off their own tops before the light changed and they sped away.

The guy in the turnpike toll booth grinned from ear to ear as he handed me our ticket. And out on the open road, the truckers' faces were priceless when they looked down and realized that Marcie and Scoot weren't just topless. Most were more than willing to let go a blast of approval on their air horns. We joked that the air horns were probably not the only thing they'd be blasting later that night.