Murder on the Oyster Reef

*** Writer’s note: this is not a direct sequel, but ‘Marlie Fucks on a Boat… Eventually’ establishes the main characters. This story continues some time afterwards.

Marlie screamed as two rough hands grabbed her.

Raw panic gripped her. “I was just dropping off your stuff,” she sputtered. Given all that’d happened, she didn’t think there’d be a confrontation. Certainly not violence, and not right at sunrise.

“You’re in so much trouble,” she heard.

She was quickly yanked aboard by the overnight bag she delivered to the boat. She was spun around and pushed into a soft bench, bag only then dropping on the deck. Those hands inexplicably caressed her cheeks and then Cheryl kissed her on the mouth.

The shock of it all was unexpected, starting from being cowardly asked by her new boyfriend, Cheryl’s ex, to drop Cheryl’s bag off after their breakup. Marlie moving in with Blaine was sudden and she knew it would ruffle feathers. And yet, the last thing she expected was to be kissed by the girl whose relationship she broke up. This… bizarre response was such a relief.

Few months back Cheryl walked in on her boyfriend messing around with Marlie while they were on a group boat outing, and instead of throwing a shitfit she gracefully bowed out. It was the most drama-free breakup Marlie had ever witnessed, even though it made her feel horrible for causing it. The kiss felt surprisingly welcoming because it seemed Cheryl had forgiven her.

Cheryl was a friend. She used to split her time between staying at her mom’s or at Blaine’s. Now she stayed aboard her docked cabin cruiser all the time and no one’d heard from her for a time. Marlie was tossing and turning all of last night, worried about Cheryl being mad at her. Dreading the confrontation. She wanted this over and done first thing in the morning.

The kiss was a new experience for her, she’d never kissed a girl. It was somehow subtly different from what she knew, somehow far more intimate. Forbidden.

She was confused by it, and she was a little surprised that being confused felt kind of nice. She had a vibe that Cheryl was bi, but didn’t know for sure until today and tried to form an opinion of it. So far it was a good one. She kissed her back after a few seconds of all these thoughts running through her head, her breathing thrown off.

She tried speaking after a minute but was shushed. When arms went around her and those hands started sliding over her back she returned the kiss far more willingly, surprised with herself. Then, when Cheryl straddled her, the whole thing felt way too comforting, somehow moreso for it being so startling.

That’s when she put her hands around Cheryl’s hips and the initial panic in her returned because she felt something. And not just how surprisingly turned on she was. She felt a yearning. She started pulling Cheryl’s body into hers, bizarrely wanting to feel legs wrapped around her own body. It was almost frustrating.

…

Ten miles away, officer Byrne watched two morons anchored in middle of the bay. After a few seconds he sighed and let his 8x42s hang down, habitually capping the lenses despite the fogproofing.

Striper season was delayed until next month. So what the fuck were those two idiots doing out there with rods out? And in this fucking weather? He pushed both throttles forward and the twin Evinrudes brought the patrol boat on plane faster than he wanted them to. He let them run wide open for a pinch longer than he had to, then throttled back to cruising speed. This new boat gave him an unadulterated grin.

…

“Don’t like the look of that guy,” Luka muttered, white-faced. The chop wasn’t the only thing making him sick now. He and a large guy called Bazoo did everything they could to blend in unnoticed. They stormed a sports store the day before and camouflaged themselves in ridiculously colorful UV-protected gear. Boat they snagged had a recent fishing vessel decal. They were wearing lifejackets, the fishing rods were up on the holders. Just two guys fishing. He popped another dramamine, wondering if they would ever kick in.

Bazoo just grunted, glancing at the approaching boat. He was staring more intently at the GPS tracer he brought along, hoping the blip would show up and it’d start beeping. But the signal disappeared days ago and all he had was coordinates he was told to memorize. There was a more accurate GPS mounted in the boat’s console, but he didn’t know how to use it. He stared at the murky water, frustrated at the naive plan of seeing all the way down to the bottom once they got here.

“Baz, what’s the plan?” Luka asked nervously. He pretended to adjust a fishing rod for show, swinging it around so it’d be plainly visible to the cop. See, just fishing, nothing to see here, he thought to himself. For all his effort, it just didn’t work and they’d somehow drawn attention anyway. The waves were making him feel so ill.

…

Officer Byrne turned the flashing lights on and gave them a complimentary patrol honk few hundred feet izmit escort out, to put the two idiots in a more receptive mood. He dropped down to idle and checked on his hanging fenders. Sure as shit, he was gonna check their coolers. And that’s when he noticed something was off, even from fifty feet away.

One of the rods was obviously a freshwater baitcaster, the other way too thin for striper. Neither rigged right or even being used. No spares. He’d expected to see an umbrella rig or a spoon, but the spinner wasn’t even spooled with line.

As the distance closed, his suspicion started firming up. Whatever these knuckleheads were up to, sure as shit it wasn’t fishing, he thought to himself. The rods came clearer into view and there was still only one highly reflective gossamer-thin line to see from that distance, not two. He absurdly thought he’d see a bobber- these clowns had no business being out on the water.

Before he recognized an unexpected sound, he felt it jar his bones. It was all wrong because he felt the sound from the inside. His inside.

And that was the last thing he felt.

…

Marlie screamed in pain.

Cheryl bit the inside of her thigh, an inch away from where the bite would’ve felt fatal. It both startled and hurt Marlie, felt like somewhere between a tickle and pain. In the moment she wanted to jump away toward safety and close her legs protectively, but within a second that feeling radiated into pleasure spreading deep inside her. The bite mark got kissed and before Marlie even registered how delicious that felt, Cheryl crawled back up and kissed her on the mouth.

When her shirt got pulled off leaving her in nothing but bra and undies, she looked around nervously to see whether anyone was watching, and then she realized they’d gone inside the cabin without her fully being aware of it. She was so in the zone right now, almost feeling intoxicated by the new experience. It was a little hot inside, but an open window provided just the perfect amount of breeze for necking. It was downright cozy here. She felt an overwhelming desire to help Cheryl out of her shirt as well so she did, but that’s as far as she got.

“Nuh uh,” Cheryl said quietly, pushing her hands away, and then gave attention to Marlie’s breasts over her bra. Then under it. So much attention. Her tongue and lips were taking turns with her greedy hands. When Cheryl’s tongue pressed into her nipple and sucked on it gently, she felt it deep inside. Like a jolt going through unpracticed nerves and confusing her body very much. She ran her hands through Cheryl’s hair and then felt curious to explore with her hands, trying to reciprocate.

“You sit back quietly,” Cheryl stopped her and pushed her back into the bed. Marlie always knew Cheryl was assertive, but that was an academic understanding until you faced her in an intimate setting. Then it became indescribably hot. She moaned in a shade of compliance and when Cheryl started peeling Marlie’s panties off, she helped, desperately hoping for another bite.

But Cheryl had other plans. She lovingly kissed Marlie’s frog tattoo on her ankle, and slowly ran her kisses and a naughty flicking tongue all the way up her leg, painfully slowly.

…

“What the fuck are we going to do about that boat?” Luka asked in a blind panic.

They’d tried removing the plug but didn’t know where it was located or that it was inaccessible while launched. So they made a plug hole of their own with a.40. Minutes later, they discovered twin bilge pumps could handle that just fine. Few more plugs for good measure finally overwhelmed them, but twenty minutes later they discovered that flotation foam existed. Luckily they didn’t try shooting through the fuel tank, so they had that going for them.

They had to do something soon because they absolutely couldn’t draw attention to this place they were sent to check out. The patrol boat’s decals were absolutely radioactive and two of them felt entirely exposed. Luckily the water was empty all around them, but for how long?

“We’ll tow it and dump it behind that overgrown island,” Bazoo grunted and pointed with his shoulder.

Luka found thick rope in the first hatch he opened and tied the two boats up in unpracticed spaghetti knots. The moment they started trying to tow the waterlogged boat, the nearer knot gave way. Luka’s countermeasure was to add more knots and that worked for awhile until the bimini strut he tied it to snapped off.

As he set to retie the boats, he wished they had a tarp or some spray paint to crudely cover up the patrol decals and buy them more time, but that was neither here nor there.

“The fuck did you have to do that for anyway?” he complained.

“He saw my face,” Bazoo answered. And suddenly Luka felt primal fear when that statement put him on the same side of the fence as the cop. He didn’t really know Bazoo all that well. Bazoo’d come down from New York for this thing.

“Why won’t these fucking things work,” Luka deflected to his miserable sea-sickness and izmit anal yapan escort shook the tiny travel bottle of dramamine, wishing he’d gotten a bigger one instead, “they’re supposed to work!” he pleaded.

Twenty minutes later, their boat stopped moving and they discovered the excess line had gotten wrapped around a prop. Within a minute the waves got messier as they turned the boat the wrong way, facing their beam. Now they were rolling the boat more violently, making Luka feel sicker. Bazoo was yelling at him for not securing the end, which didn’t help him feel any better. From this side, half the waves had whitecaps. At least they were almost at their destination.

“Fuck, what next?” Luka whined and popped his last dramamine.

…

Marlie was in heaven. Cheryl was going down on her expertly, and after mere minutes she felt her legs tense up, signaling an inevitable orgasm soon. Her moans said one thing. Her reluctant hands attempting to gently push Cheryl’s head away said another. And her involuntary twitching told Cheryl yet another thing.

“Tell me before you cum,” Cheryl commanded her and kissed her other inner thigh. Or at least it felt like a command coming from her. Cheryl could be intense. Nodding a confirmation felt so bizarrely erotic because there was no guesswork, nowhere to go from here but be made to orgasm. It was so much hotter that Cheryl was assertive.

“Fuck…” is all Marlie could whisper as she lay back and closed her eyes.

Cheryl was kissing her clit, alternating between licking and sucking it. Her head turned with the motion and her tongue kept going off reservation, slowly sliding elsewhere over her skin, teasing her. It felt great, beyond description, but Marlie regretfully wanted it all to stop. She felt mortified, didn’t know how to ask.

“Please stop,” she tried directly because there was no finer way to do it.

“Why?” Cheryl asked playfully but kept going.

“Because,…” and truth be told, Marlie really didn’t want her to stop. But she was about to die of embarrassment. There was a measurable sense of shame in what she was about to say and it always haunted her to confide. It was ugly. It’d ruin the moment. Despite the intimacy of the moment, some things were very private. When Cheryl continued pleasuring her, she realized she had to make it stop and now before it was too late.

“Bec…because I might make a mess,” she blurted out, and started getting up. There were some things she could only take so far and she was glad Cheryl stopped.

Cheryl stroked Marlie’s thighs and looked her in the eye for a few intense seconds, then gently slid her hands all the way up to Marlie’s huge breasts, enjoying them. She’d been shamelessly staring at them all day some months back and today she decided she wouldn’t waste a moment testing her cravings. She gently pushed Marlie back into the bed and went back to eating her out, nothing would stop her. She was lightly swishing warm saliva while sucking on Marlie’s clit and to Marlie, fuck, that felt so awesome. Just not… now, Marlie thought.

Marlie wanted to just disappear but someone’s horny fingers playing with her nipples arrested her protests. The humiliation that this lesser-known part of her triggered was something she carried with her all her life. But something about Cheryl’s confident intent helped her put it on hold. Her legs started shaking a little more, a tell she couldn’t control. Fuck, Cheryl’s tonguework was expert. She moaned..

“Oh…” she moaned again, “…I’m gonna…” She tried to stop it, but Cheryl’s mouth was unrelenting. Her tongue was flicking so fast now. Marlie now wanted her to keep going… just please keep going…

The tongue kept pressing right through the skin, right on her button and the suction was divine. It kept changing directions, up down, left right, diagonally and she couldn’t tell which way she liked it better, all ways were. It felt a little bit weird, just a little bit vulnerable to spread your legs for someone’s mouth.

Marlie again changed her mind about letting Cheryl continue and didn’t want to embarrass herself, so she ran her hand through Cheryl’s hair to guide her away, but Cheryl didn’t budge an inch.

She tried more forcefully and instead all she got was Cheryl’s tongue deep inside her, teasing her. It caught her off guard and she’d bucked against it, hoping it could reach just a little further, but that lasted only a moment. The hungry mouth resumed eating her pussy, lips sucking and tongue licking her clit more intensely. Harder she tried to pull Cheryl’s hair, harder Cheryl fought back and ate her out slightly more forcefully, Frenching her royally.

“Please….” she tried one last time, in a clearer tone.

It didn’t help. It made it worse. “Don’t make me tie you up,” Cheryl threatened.

That was so fucked up because she was sure Cheryl was dead serious, and that was so fucking hot. It helped her cross the point of no return. She started orgasming, and clenched hard izmit yabancı escort but the squirt she couldn’t control started. She started half screaming in pleasure, half moaning, her orgasm so intense that it almost hurt. Cheryl was still sucking her clit, her mouth moving in wider circles but more slowly.

Before the bad scene unfolded, before a single pang of horror registered, before self-consciousness kicked in, Marlie realized there was no mess anywhere. And then the realization hit her.

“…you swallowed it all,” Marlie whispered slowly, amazed. All of her life, she simply hadn’t known that was an option. It was intoxicating. She had this relaxed dazed look on her face, a major release she needed.

Afterwards they cuddled, she still amazed at the level of acceptance that so suddenly replaced her stigma. All those years of disgusted looks, of dread. Of having to explain. Of judging. Of avoidance. She was happy in this moment. Her orgasm had never felt more complete, the way it ended. She wanted to make Cheryl happy too, to return the favor so she stirred after a few minutes, anxious about what she was about to do.

“What are we going to tell Blaine?” she idly wondered, still thinking about the next steps. She’d never gone down on a girl before and felt nervous about it, but really wanted to.

Cheryl sat up and fondled Marlie’s ankle tattoo. She cheerfully said, “I don’t think we should tell him anything, my little froggie” and then got off the bed and started straightening herself out.

Marlie was confused, twice over. She didn’t understand at first until Cheryl playfully tossed a shirt at her. Wasn’t even her shirt.

“What you did still hurt,” Cheryl explained and smiled gently, and that felt like a punch to the gut to Marlie because it was all true. Because Cheryl was all grace. Because Cheryl made her feel so good. Because she now wanted Cheryl. Feeling confused was an understatement.

“It’d be best if you didn’t come back,” she said a touch curtly, straightening herself out.

Cheryl wasn’t being mean, she was being truthful and that hurt far more. “My pop-pop always told me not to let people walk all over me,” she added, “Look, I was just being greedy. That’s all. Woke up super-horny.”

“And I was jealous,” she added gently and briefly kissed Marlie on the lips. But of exactly what, she didn’t say. She soothed, she always soothed after hurting someone. Kiss after a bite. “I have to go to work, alright?” Marlie nodded, like a sad puppy, and started to make herself decent. Where were her pants? Somehow she lost those next few minutes, her brain in a blissful state. The shirt wasn’t hers, but she put it on anyway. It smelled like Cheryl.

As Marlie was getting back out onto the pier, Cheryl changed her mind about being so distant, and called after her.

“Hey,”… she paused for awhile thinking things over. “Text me later, alright?”

…

The waves slowly pushed the two boats toward the island they were heading to anyway and they got mostly beached on it, still fifty feet away from the shore. It was surprisingly shallow here. Bazoo figured out trim controls and got a partial look at the prop. He managed to carelessly cut away most of the rope wrapped around it, but not all. By now, his hands were freezing. This was fucking hopeless, he thought grimly.

“This fucking mess,” he bitched and thought things over. He should’ve let the other boat just drift away on its own earlier, he thought bitterly. That idiot Luka still thought they could’ve talked their way out of it. Way too late now. Now they were beached in freezing water. They could easily call for trusted help, but they had to ditch that patrol boat first and that was difficult when every other wave nudged them further into the silt. Maybe they could get away and hide in the thicket until the waves changed direction, he decided.

They got out and started wading toward the shore. It smelled overwhelmingly like clams all around them. The water was freezing and the silt sucked their boots down with each step.

“What the fuck is this place?” he asked out loud when he was able to read the faded sign.

“DANGER. UNEXPLODED ORDNANCE,” the leaning sign read.

…

Cheryl had spent a good hour rigging pop-pop’s old 35′ draketail. She shook her head and corrected herself, no, it was her boat now. It truly felt like her boat when she’d modified it, removing the starboard cleats so they wouldn’t snag her trotline. She then had a specialized marina on the eastern shore install a rear steering station on the same-side gunnel so that she could crab by herself.

It was simple work, attaching chicken necks every six feet and cinching the knots, but she had to go through 600 feet of trotline. After her break-up she decided to try in pop-pop’s footsteps for awhile and applied for a commercial license.

Despite the pleasant morning’s delay, she kicked herself for a late start. She had less than eight hours left to set and collect. It was already pretty choppy out so she rushed to her secret spot in the upper bay before the conditions worsened. Normally this was a 2-3 man job on a boat this size, but she was just starting out and figured she’d just take her time, work her efficiency up and then grow incrementally if it appeared to be sustainable.