SUMMER HEAT… so much going on (Part 161m)
We had a new race
committee chairman. An older man, he was relatively new to the club. His
granddaughter was in the junior program and he wanted to something to
help the club. He claimed to have had past experience in running races
and it seemed like a good idea. However, it was his idea to have the
women race with the guys and, as I previously mentioned, I had my doubts
about it being a good idea but kept it pretty much to myself. It turned
out that I was right. The only female who had any real racing experience
was Bobbi and that was as a crew, not as a skipper. Right after the
start the trouble began. I’m not going to give a lesson on
sailing/racing rules here but it was obvious that most of the women
didn’t know some of even the most basic of them. Boats were hitting
boats and most of the collisions were caused by the females.
Fortunately, I wasn’t involved but I was very concerned that Elle was,
or would be, so kept looking behind me to see just what was happening.
The wind was relatively calm so when I saw one of the boats had turned
over it didn’t seem right. I turned my boat around to go see what had
happened and to make sure everybody was OK. The first thing I saw was
Bobbi trying to get the boat that had flipped turned back right side up.
To do it a person would have to climb up and stand on the dagger board
which, with the boat on its side, was parallel to the water. Approaching
the boat I watched as Bobbie, now standing on it, was reaching forward
to grasp the deck of the boat and to try and use her weight to pull it
towards her to right it. In so doing her now very wet backside was
facing me and it was truly a sight to behold. There was no doubt about
anything when it came to her panties… bikini and light blue in color.
But the best part was to see the crotch line. Her shorts were literally
plastered to her bottom and the material looked like tissue paper.
No
one was hurt and the damage to the boats (thankfully, not ours) was
minimal. There were a few of the guys who had turned back with me and abandoned
the race. We decided to head the women back to shore and, knowing
there was to be only one race and that there was no way for us to catch up with the rest of the racers, accompanied them. Back on the beach it was decided
that some lessons were needed before the women raced again. It was Bobbi
who suggested that it might be a good time to go over just what had
gone wrong. As she spoke I was looking at her (crotch) and could see a
frontal VPL with the crotch line clearly showing through the material. I
remember thinking that the only thing that would have made it
absolutely perfect was if there had been a camel toe… but there wasn’t.
By
the time the racers hit the beach I felt that those of us who were
trying to teach the ladies had made some headway. A group of us had
attempted to do it the previous Summer but it had been made painfully
clear that there had been little retention. An appeal was made to some
of the other male racers to see if any would be willing to do it again
this Summer. The response was underwhelming but the husbands of the
women who were there said they’d make an attempt. They chose Wednesday
nights which, if the racecar motor got fixed, was not a good night for
me. But at least there was a semblance of a plan in place as we started
to pack up and head for home. As we did I saw a familiar face (and form)
approaching us. It was “Big B”. I hadn’t seen him since we were at the
racecar shop and he ponied up some money for tires.
He worked for
a local marine parts and equipment company as an over the road
salesman. He was usually gone from Monday morning through Friday and
only home on the weekends. But I hadn’t seen him, even then, for almost a
month. He told us his boss, the owner of the company, had decided to
open a satellite operation in near the city and tapped him to do it. I
could see from the way he was telling us that he clearly wasn’t happy
about it. But, the reason he was there was to tell us he’d just finished
putting his Lightning class sailboat in the water. He told me I was
free to use it, even on the weekends, through July. He had me follow him
to his car where he gave me the sails and other equipment. As we did
the exchange I didn’t have the heart to tell him I really didn’t think
I’d have time to use it. I thanked him and he took off.
Elle had
headed for her mother’s to pick up the kids and I headed for home. At
the top of the driveway I spied Barbara lying on her back on a towel out
by the playhouse. She didn’t move even after I shut the car door so I
walked out to see if she was OK. I’d forgotten that she was a deep
sleeper and that when she’d stayed with us before, Elle had a hard time
waking her up. Knowing that Elle would soon be there I decided to wake
her up. As I bent over to shake her arm I thought I noticed a slight
discoloration in her crotch area. I really had to shake her to get a
response and she was slow to wake. I immediately thought that she’d
realize she was wet but she made no move to cover herself or to even
acknowledge it. I told her I was surprised to find her back at the house
and she said her friend’s family had company and she just didn’t feel
all that comfortable. I helped her to get up and even then there was no
sign that she even knew about the damp spot. When we got to the patio
she spied one of our cats and bent over to pet it. I expected to see her
backside wet but I really had to concentrate to pick up the
continuation of the spot I’d seen on her front. I didn’t understand it.
Once inside my plan was to take a shower and put on clothes. I thought
she might go upstairs and change but she proceeded to go out onto the
screened in porch. I was still puzzled and thought she might not even
know… but I wasn’t going to say anything.
It took me but 15 or 20
minutes to be done and to join her on the porch. She was in the wicker
rocking chair and seemed quite happy. I thought about trying to pick up
on our conversation from the morning and since Elle and the kids weren’t
back made a stab at it. I can’t remember exactly how I segued into it
but basically asked her about the girl she ended up sitting with on the
bus and just why she laughed when she seen Barbara’s puddle. I didn’t
know how she’d react but she laughed again. At that point I begged her
to tell me. I think she said she just couldn’t but I wouldn’t let go of
the topic. Still laughing, she finally relented but hesitated as she
started to explain. I did notice that her face seemed to be flushed as
she started talking.
The puddle really wasn’t all Barbara’s. She
didn’t deny that some of it was hers but the other girl had actually
started it. It was when Barbara added to it the girl tried to hide her
part in it and blamed Barbara for it. I had a feeling that that wasn’t
the end of the story but Barbara told me that she’d gone way beyond
where she should have stopped and made the ‘zipped’ sign across her
lips. In sitting there and thinking about the situation I couldn’t hide
the smile on my face and was hoping that I was doing a good job of
hiding the bulge in my shorts.
To be continued…
3 comments:
All in all a great day:-) Camel toes were rare in the days of hair, an unintentional poem.
I enjoyed reading about Bobbi's shorts and imagining the two cheerleaders on the bus!
What a day for you!
Bad
OB... knit pants (shorts or slacks) were what established "camel toes" as a beautiful thing to behold...
BS... as I wrote in the next post "...it was a day to remember!"
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