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Claire pulled her dirty blond hair back into a messy ponytail and smoothed the wrinkles out of her tee shirt. Upon boarding the plane, she'd unthinkingly worn shorts; now the chill Alaskan air made her nipples sensitive and erect within her thin bra. Since all of her overshirts were in her checked luggage, there was nothing that could be done but ignore this rather embarrassing situation. She shifted from foot to foot, both nervous and thrilled at the novelty of this new life.

She'd heard from a friend of the family that a captain in Bristol Bay was looking for a deckhand for the summer sockeye salmon run. Claire had called the man, who was apparently impressed with her initiative. That phone interview had sealed her employment, and now here she was, two thousand miles from everyone she knew. Belatedly, Claire realized that she had not even described her appearance, so she did not know how her captain would recognize her when he met her in the airport.

Bearded and energetic young men milled about the small building, all either waiting or thumbing rides to their destinations. These were mostly deckhands like her; the cannery workers would arrive a few weeks later. The air seemed charged with electricity, and she thought she could taste the testosterone that floating all around her.

"Claire Newman?"

When she turned at the querulous tone, Claire did a double-take. The Adonis who had spoken was surely much too young to be her captain. Textured black hair framed his intense face and skimmed the stubbled jaw. A body, firm from effort rather than exercise leaned into hers slightly as he awaited her reply. She was unable to speak for a moment as his dark eyes met her hazel ones. Her questioner's şişli escort gaze was as self-assured as his tone implied, and it sent a jolt straight through Claire's body.

"Yep, that's me," she grinned, recovering. When she extended her hand, a confident and calloused grip met it and seemed to hold the handshake for a second longer than was necessary. She knew that that this was all in her head, a product of jet lag and hunger, but even so her breath came shallow. When her tongue ran over her teeth, those deep eyes followed it. It was all in her head.

"Hi, I'm Brent Derrick. My dad's busy out on the boat, so he had me come out here to meet you." A sudden grin exposed a row of sharkish teeth and well-worn dimples. He tucked his hair behind one ear and broke their gaze, shuffling his feet.

With one part of her brain, Claire exchanged pleasantries with him ? about the flight, her luggage ? but a more primitive portion of her thinking still felt his hand within hers, still saw those dimples and pumped blood through her body.

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

"This will be your room when we're ashore. It won't be all that often, but feel free to sleep for as long as you need right now. Jet lag can be a bitch."

Brent left her quickly, actions not matching the casual tone of his words. Claire watched the fabric of his worn workshirt stretch over shoulder muscles as he went, and wondered what those muscles would look like in action. He left her looking at the doorway, confused, aroused, and tired.

There was a full-length mirror on the inside of the door, which she did not lock. She watched herself now as she undressed. Toned arms pulled off mköy escort her clothing to reveal a strong, curvaceous body. Her well-formed breasts bounced slightly when she uncupped her bra, but they did not sag. Unthinkingly, she began to stoke her stomach muscles lightly, enjoying the sensation upon her smooth skin. Without restraint, her rose-colored nipples awoke, fully erect with cold and sensuality. At eighteen, her body was more womanly than it had ever been, and the desires of her sex were making themselves known.

When Claire slid naked beneath the sheets, she felt the fabric upon every inch of her body. The memory of Brent's shirt-clad muscles fresh in her mind, she continued her stroking, bolder now. She shut her eyes and tilted her head back, mind awash with sensation. A low hum escaped her throat as one hand began to work its way deliberately below her bellybutton. She allowed her fingers to explore the thin dusting of pubic hair upon her mound, not yet entering her woman's valley. This was all too new to her, having bypassed relationships for the sake of a scholarship. Now, she began to understand what her girlfriends talked about when they shared stories of their boyfriends and the things they did.

Claire's left hand traced her nipples, moving from one breast to the other with slow regularity. She began to run the fingers of her right hand over her thigh deliberately, taking the time to fully enjoy the effect upon her heating cunt. She had never been so ready, so in heat in her life. Here she was, naked in a strange bed, where an intensely attractive man may walk in on her at any moment. Her hum turned to a low moan.

When she slipped her index finger between güngören escort the lips of her labia, the moan became a gasp. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth as she imagined licking Brent's thighs. In a slow rhythm, she angled her index finger into her slippery cunthole and began to tease the opening. She placed her palm against her clitoris and rocked against it, breathing heavily at the dual sensation. Her left hand now raced around her straining nipples, although in Claire's mind, Brent's tongue caused her this pleasure. In and out her finger slid each time venturing deeper and deeper into Claire's virgin hole. Her inhales were now gasps and her exhales moans.

Suddenly, Claire thrust her cunt against both index and middle fingers, hungry to fill her lust. Her left hand slid down to her clit, rubbing it in circles as her right hand filled her hole. She pumped against herself, shaking her head from side to side as wave after wave of sensation washed over her. Juices covered both hands and began to drip deliciously down to her quivering asshole.

"Ohhh....Mmm. Yes, yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes yes yes yesyes," Claire hissed to herself and her imaginary lover as her hands began to move faster. She was writhing in the sheets now, uncaring ? hoping ? that someone might hear her. As rising sensations commanded her to fuck herself as fast as she could she furiously rubbed her clit. "Ohh...God! Mmm....God, yes." She suddenly thrust as deeply as she could as her cunt began to pucker and clench her fingers. The orgasm came so suddenly that she arched her back and bit the pillow to keep from crying out. Juice dripped between her fingers and onto the sheets as her breathing slowed and the liquid sensation of afterglow coursed through her veins.

She licked her fingers, imagining she was kissing the taste off Brent's lips. A smile settled as comfortably onto her tired face as the rays of the morning sun settled upon the walls. Once her breathing and heart-rate slowed, she slept.