Behind The Mask

Chapter 8

Michael’s POV

I slip into the wetsuit. Damn, it’s tight! Do my…err…family jewels show through? Nope. Good. Still, this thing is skin tight. God, look at my ass in all its glory! Can I emerge from this change room looking like this?

“Hello! Need any help in there?” rings Anouk’s impatient voice.

“Nnno…I’m coming right out!”

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never! Banzai! Funny, that’s what’s written on my wetsuit. I heard it was something like a Japanese war cry. Okay, here I go…

I step outside to find Anouk dressed just like me. Yes, wonderful people of planet Earth, dressed in a skintight wetsuit! Clinging to every shape and crevice in her lithe and gracious body. Fuck me! She’s beyond hot and sexy! She’s screaming sex goddess from 100 miles away.

“Seein’ something you ain’t seen before?” she smirks. “Let me give you a crash course on female anatomy. These are two breasts, this is one vulva, these are two legs and those are two buttocks.”

I become crimson red. Damn, I think I’ve become a heating source from the burning shame I’m feeling for staring so shamelessly at her.

“Ahem…thank you for your…eloquence. And sorry…for staring. It’s just that…you really look good.”

She circles me whistling.

“Nice ass” she winks at me. “How’s that for an honest reaction? No stuttering” she smiles smugly.

Anouk 1 – Michael 0 again. Damn, this girl was born to have a stinging answer to anything I say.

“Well, let’s get this parasailing thing going!” I say as I climb aboard the ship which will take us to the middle of the Vaal River.

“Getting impatient again! First, let’s get you properly harnessed.”

“Harnessed?”

This sound suspicious and BDSM. The idea of being restrained in any way is absolutely abhorrent to me.

“You can’t do parasailing without a proper harness. Here, that’s what it looks like. Don’t worry…I’ll be wearing one too. Do you like to see women…tied up?”

“I am trying to be on my best behavior here” I say, trying hard not to roll my eyes at her.

She shakes her head and gives me one of her mischievous half grins.

“Right. The procedure is simple. You get strapped in the harness, we attach the ‘chute and you stand there. The boat speeds up and you fly up. You pull the orange cord when you think you’ve had enough and we pull you right back in here.”

“Okay…But can’t we do this at the same time…holding hands?”

“Awww….poor baby Mikey is afraid??”

“Nnno….I just think it would be nice to hold hands…”

“We risk getting our ‘chutes tangled together if we’re to close to one another.”

“Oh…Okay. Right, let’s do it. May I fasten your harness?”

“Look, Michael. If you just want an excuse to touch me, forget it. If this harness isn’t fastened properly, I could injure my spine when the ‘chute yanks me up in the air.”

I forget about the first part of her statement. This is serious stuff and I really don’t want to cause her any harm whatsoever.

“Okay, let’s let these guys do this” I say looking at the boat captain and parasailing instructor who presently get us properly strapped up.