THA HEAT GOES ON... August (Part 163k)

THE HEAT GOES ON… August (Part 163k)

In spite of my pledge to Morris not to say anything about his revelation to me I just couldn’t help it. On top of that I’d also tried not to talk about work at home. However, once the kids were finished and had been excused from the table I asked Elle to sit down and listen to what I had to say. I knew, for a fact, that she’d not say anything to anybody and it was a chance for me to verbally express my frustration about some of the idiots who were overseeing the running of the bank. The observations made by Morris were basically the same as mine. Of course I didn’t have the demographics that he did but the results of the opening sure bore him out. By the time the phone rang I’d pretty much gotten to the point of being redundant so as I got up to answer it I thanked Elle for listening. It was Alan, one of the co-owners of the racecar. From time to time he’d ask for a ride to the shop but on this night it was to tell me they weren’t going as we’d done everything to get the car ready the previous week but hadn’t raced due to the rain. He did say we were going to meet up Friday night. I asked him why since the car was totally ready to race. He didn’t know but said Cliffy wanted us there. I thought I’d now have a free night since Elle was part of the ladies group taking racing lessons at the sailing club. Before I could grasp that thought the phone rang again.

It was Rex, a racer who was also the unofficial property manager for the club. He was supposed to be one of the instructors that night but there was some sort of family medical emergency and wanted to know if I’d fill in for him. It would’ve been hard to say “No…” because I actually owed him a bunch of favors. The news, when I told Elle, made her happy. I asked why and she just smiled. I asked who else was part of the group. I’d gone one night but couldn’t remember the faces of most of them. I knew that Bobbi the girl who had crewed for me when I still had the Comet class boat and had been hired to oversee the junior sailing program would be there. That was an incentive to go, especially now that she was almost fully mature.

When we got to the club I was informed that no one had a key to the clubhouse. Rex always had a key and Bobbi did too as she opened the building each morning. But neither of them were there which presented me with a major problem. The topic I was planning on going over was the rules for the start of races. The only way I felt I could make my points was to have use of the portable blackboard. I quickly found out that the range of knowledge of the women who were there went from almost nothing on up to Elle who was capable of racing with the men. The lack of a blackboard was going to make it extremely difficult. However, I did make an effort. Including Elle, I think there were six women in all. It seems you can always count on at least one person to make things ‘interesting’ when you’re trying to accomplish something. This one woman seemed bound and determined to make the season an ordeal. She was upset that there was no access to the clubhouse and from there just seemed to want to challenge anything I had to say. In place of the blackboard I’d decided to use the sand to draw my illustrations. I knew from the start that it would be difficult for some to see but pressed on. That woman started complaining as soon as I drew the first one. That seemed to set a few of the others off and then I started to hear complaints about not being able to get in the building. As I was standing on the beach and the women were on the porch I was looking up at them and could see this one was holding her crotch. With the mounting discontent I decided to cancel the lesson as I didn’t need the aggravation. I tried to focus on the lady in distress but she had disappeared from my view as the others disbursed. Hindsight is almost always 20/20 and I realized that without access to the clubhouse I never should’ve started. A legitimate complaint was that the phone and first aid kit were located inside the building and if we’d needed either we couldn’t have gotten to them.

When I had a chance I asked Elle about the woman who was the complainer and she, without hesitation, spit out the words “Pain in the ass!”. It was quickly followed by something like “It serves her right that she wet herself”. That really got my attention because it meant that Elle had either seen her do it or had witnessed the result. It was a bit of a shock to hear Elle talk that way and I wanted to take advantage of it. I asked if she saw her doing it and I’d have to describe the look on her face as being a wicked smile. Her answer was that most of the women watched as she ran down the stairs “leaving a trail”. As base as it sounds I had to go over and look for myself. On the way home Elle described the issue she (and other mothers) had with the woman and as she did I recognized her as the one who had disrupted the junior sailing program the year before when she refused to take her turn as a chaperone.


I’d been upset about having given up a free night and was still in that mood when we turned in our driveway. There was still plenty of daylight so we allowed the kids to open the playhouse and get their things out. Elle had gone over to check on the small vegetable garden she’d planted and after getting the station wagon in the garage I heard her call me over to where she was. Elle had planted some corn to be able to illustrate to the kids just how it grew, stage by stage, and she was standing behind the row. As I made my way I could see she had her legs spread. I heard a muffled “Hurry up!” and before I reached her could see a spot of discoloration in her crotch. My hand went right to it but she told me to wait. I do remember looking over my shoulder to where the kids were. It was obvious she had to go as she was sort of dancing while standing in place. She told me to wait and she’d go for me in the house. We started heading down the path to the patio and all I could do was hope she’d make it. I really wanted to feel the warm wetness coming through her panties. I’d noticed that she’d chosen to wear only one pair of nylon panties expecting that she’d get wet from the water from the bay while sailing. I got the idea for a picture and as she was sort of shuffling her feet as she made her way towards the house I jogged on ahead to get the camera. As soon as got in the house she went right for the shower stall. I had the camera in hand and before she could say anything I asked if she’d drop her shorts. I got the ‘look’ but didn’t hear the word “No…”. The next thing I knew she’d lifted her left leg and had started to pee. Usually when rushed I’d screw up but not this time. I got a picture and put the camera down into the sink and then got my hand up to her crotch. The the sensuous feel of the nylon satin that the panties were made of gave me a massive bulge. I grabbed her hands and pulled her out and into the room. I was still backing up and when the back of my legs felt the toilet I sat down trying to get her to straddle me. She, because the kids were out back, didn’t want to but I wouldn’t let her up telling her to close the door. Let’s just say it didn’t last for long but we both enjoyed it while it lasted. :-)
         

Letting it go...

 To be continued…