Consequences Unforeseen

Cannes - July 1966

Cannes, July 1966

Little Rosa undulated gently beneath his belly.

She was warm and moist with sweat to every part of his skin and her gentle rhythmic motions lulled him into a trance. Rosa was very sexy, very beautiful and she was now almost 12 years old. Bill Douglas was 15 and he knew every inch of Rosa intimately, like the back of his own hand.

She was seventy feet long and almost thirty five feet across and her decks glistened like gold under many coats of marine varnish. He was lying face down on her after deck just behind the main entry to the internal havens of this magnificent boat.

The warm Mediterranean sun felt great on his back and he drifted in and out of a doze. Snoozing and content and in his own world, he reacted with a huge deafening scream when the bucket of relatively freezing Mediterranean water was unceremoniously poured all over him.

Ignoring the fact that he was totally naked, he leapt to his feet and began to chase the perpetrator along the deck to the bow of the boat. He never caught her though because she continued her run converting her momentum into a dive as she reached the limits of the railings. All he finally saw was her bare bottom, as it disappeared beneath the waters of the azure...

Lynda Smith was a devil and a torment. Two years older than him, she had grown to become his best friend.

Strange really, some might think, for a fifteen-year-old and sexually mature boy to be so close to a seventeen-year-old girl. Their relationship grew over the past couple of years into a brother and sister chemistry. If asked about it, neither of them could explain it and they would simply shrug their shoulders and smile.

Bill's friends on the Cote D'Azure could not believe it. They constantly teased him and pushed him on the matter, but he just laughed them off.

At times she acted like his big sister and mentored him as best she could. But mostly she was just a great pal and they were as close as it was possible to be for two teens of the opposite sex, without the complications of sexual involvement.

They met in Australia two years previously when Bill Douglas was on a soccer exchange program visit to Sydney. The Smith family playing host to him had two kids - the boy soccer player Jim and his older sister Lynda.

The girl was a tomboy. No doubt about it, and never missed one of the soccer matches involving the two boys. She was also pretty as a picture and Bill took to her and her sense of fun instantly.

Her father was Joe Smith and he loved soccer with a passion. Originally from Glasgow he was a huge Celtic supporter. He too seldom missed one of the boys' games and he told Bill teasingly that he'd never be any good because "yer arse is too close to the ground."

Joe also liked his beer and malt Scotch whisky, and he told Bill that there were only two things in his home which were off limits to him. "Ye can drink all of ma beer ye want while ye're here, but don't be touchin' ma whisky or ma girl."

Over the early few weeks noticed that the two were inseparable and making the obvious assumption he decided to make a pre-emptive intervention in the matter.

He needn't have worried though for the two shared a bond based in humor, genuine affection and considerable common interests in karate, the ocean and the desert of the Australian interior.

Lynda made sure that the hormone afflicted boy got as many flirtatious introductions as she could make to her friends. They all seemed to be charmed by his Scottish accent and his already well developed 5' 6" body.

The three kids and their friends spent hours on the beaches around Sydney, but avoided the tourist afflicted Bondi Beach and more often headed down the Captain Cook Drive to the beach at Cronulla.