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[I’m sorry about the long gap between the story updates. You might call it writer’s block. But it’s really more the case that as relationships mature, sexual interactions become more set in their ways.
Ned still might have been getting a lot of sex from some stunningly attractive and far too young women, but you already know their ways and means. And it’s not really in the nature of Ned or the girls to have got more and more kinky, just to provide better reading fodder for those wanting to go that way : )
Of course Tash was always an exception. But even variations of her slightly deviant way of coping with the age difference can seem repetitive. The old swim coach ripping apart the swimwear of his student routine went only so far; as did variations of Tash’s associated bondage fetish.
But there occurred a new development of this story I was heading towards narrating. So this story is something of a segue way to that.]
*****
Our time in French Polynesia had come to an end.
Even if it might be every man’s dream to have three stunningly attractive, lustful young women invade your yacht looking for sex from you, the reality was more unsettling. I held nothing against them (if you’ll excuse the pun). They were nice people following their own rules of existence. But the experience left all of us feeling a little vulnerable.
We knew we were being observed and that affected our comfort levels. We brought the yacht around closer to the main township and went about provisioning it for our tour through some of the smaller and more remote nations of the South Pacific.
Two days after the invasion we were steering a course out of the Bora Bora lagoon. After a couple of brief stops at some of the tiny and more picturesque islands of French Polynesia we set a course West towards the Cook Islands. It was about 550 Nautical Miles which we estimated would take us about four days in our heavily laden state with the South East Trade Winds at our back.
The crew were now divided into two watches of two each; running a four hours on and four hours off rotation. Ellen was the obvious other watch captain, so the only real question was how Amy and Tash were to be allocated. If I was being completely noble, I would have ensured Ellen and Amy were matched, leaving me with Tash. That would have put my two lovers together, minimising any possibility of jealousies arising.
But I wasn’t that noble. I preferred the idea of sharing watch with someone I had an emotional connection with. So although I more ‘let it happen’ rather than arranged it, Amy was allocated as my watch partner. I knew I would need to more than make that up to Ellen while still also meeting Tash’s lesser demands upon me. But I trusted to Ellen’s level headedness to make sure jealousy didn’t really build to any extent. That would be bad for the boat.
You might think that the four hours on, four hours off, system left plenty of time for play. After all, if you only sleep for six to eight hours, that leaves another 4 to 6 left over. But it not that simple. The “Off Watch” is more correctly called the “Watch Below”, because that’s what they are; responsible for cooking and cleaning and tending to the needs of the on watch, while available to be called up on deck in an emergency at any time. Add to that the fact you don’t crawl into a bunk and fall immediately asleep – at least for the first couple of days – and that ‘spare’ six hours disappears very quickly.
And of course, now we were back at sea, any sense of sex being able to be a private affair was gone. At best I might be pounding a girl below while the others listened to every sound (and maybe peeked down the deck hatches), but it was just as likely I’d be performing on deck in front of an audience. Indeed, while the weather was benign, Amy’s sun bathing cushions in front of the main companionway remained set up, almost for just that eventuality.
For the last few days at anchor before we left, the girls had made sure their sexual needs were well satisfied. With Amy and Ellen back to sleeping with me as a threesome and the morning sex that inevitably followed, they got off to a good start. That’s not to say there weren’t additional demands from them, but once we were away from Bora Bora and the threat of invasion, the girls were well capable of ensuring two of them went ashore when visiting the other islands, leaving me aboard to bang away in some privacy at whoever was chosen to remain with me.
Tash’s demands were less insistent, but she still presented herself in her new one piece (as a signal for me to take her) twice and just asked for sex another. So she wasn’t in any danger of recovering her virginity either.
The first day at sea is always a bit disorganised in terms of settling into the watch system. After all, you’ve just had a good night’s sleep at anchor (and the sex the morning brought), so once you’ve cleared port, the watch below isn’t exactly in the mood for more sleep.
My practical solution to that is to let things run until escort araban the 4 pm watch changeover. Then I think it’s a good idea for the watch below to try and get some rest for the night ahead. Which is what Ellen and Tash did.
At 7.30 they were back on deck, having cooked dinner. That left Amy and me to retire to our bunk at 8 pm. And with the privacy of the ocean, we’d all lost our clothing by the noon watch; four naked person on a yacht in the middle of the ocean.
To say that Amy seeks a somewhat interesting sleep arrangement while at sea is an understatement. Essentially, she like to sleep penetrated. That’s right, with my erection inside her.
As we lie down together naked side by side, she engages in some foreplay to get us both well aroused. That’s not something Amy finds very difficult to induce in me; so there’s no problem there, however tired I might be. Then she bring a leg over mine and brings me into her. Then we cuddle up and try to go to sleep without making any great effort towards thrusting.
Rather what happens is that the roll of the boat in the seaway pretty well does it for us. As the aft quarter of the boat lifts to a passing wave, inevitably our bodies roll a bit and with our different body size and body posture that both causes a small in and out movement of my shaft and rubs Amy’s nipples across my chest.
Getting to sleep isn’t that difficult; especially after a day or two at sea. It’s not as though I’m so deprived of the opportunity to dump a load that I feel frustrated if I can’t bang away at her until I do. Quite the opposite. I rather savour the opportunity for some extreme intimacy without having to make a big effort. And being aroused somehow makes sleep easier; in the same way a night erection can be a signifier of still being in a sleepy mood. The stimulation itself is nice – very nice actually – but not so much as to be more than a mild and pleasant distraction from the sleep process.
Amy tells me it induces in her the craziest erotic dreams. Dreams that often result in her having an orgasm; sometimes twice in a single off watch.
If I’m awake, you can tell when it’s about to happen. She’s normally a complete screamer while having sex. But in her sleep these are suppressed to what start as barely audible moans and slowly, indecisively, build to restrained grunts; maybe with a bit of sexually orientated sex sleep talk thrown in. But her nipples are the real give away to when she’s about to go. Sensitive at the best of times, quick to harden and well capable of giving her an orgasm through their stimulation alone, from the time she starts brushing against me with the waves, they harden and jut. But just before her sleep orgasm, something more happens that’s difficult to describe. It’s like her whole breast swells and are capped by nipples that become as hard as acorns.
I’m a breast man through and through (well actually, Amy’s stunning mons also has a particular attraction for me) and if I’m awake as she’s showing every sign of going to cum, it’s impossible for me to resist the temptation to play with those acorns and their swollen base; even suck them.
Her climax semi-awakens her and, even in her half sleep, she grasps my body tightly as she prolongs her orgasm by thrusting hard in and out until it runs its course. But what she doesn’t grasp tightly is my shaft. She knows if I want to find my own orgasm in her I will; and she’ll help me do it. But otherwise, to make me cum will lose her the benefit of my erection and on a good night in this strange afloat world, she can be back asleep with my hard manhood still in her and having more erotic dreams, mere minutes after her climax.
An hour later she might have another; although we hadn’t yet got to three on one watch on this trip.
As for me? Well, I have my share of erotic dreams too. For some reason, they’re always associated with water; specifically making love to a girl in it. I don’t know why; maybe because my first sexually orientated physical contact with girls was fooling around with them as friends at the local pool and beach. In that way that sometimes happens with young adults first discovering the opposite sex, there were two girls in my friend group quite happy to muck about in a way that got me aroused. They’d know it – it’s hard to disguise in swimwear – and getting that reaction from me only seemed to encourage them. And when I think back to the way they’d wrap their legs around my thigh – with their crotch firmly against it – as we trod water, I can only guess they were aroused too. Their nipples were certainly jutting out their bikini tops; something my youthful, aroused self never failed to notice.
Superficially we were playing some completely innocent game – often in a bigger group. But the reality was, the pleasure we were finding was in an entirely different sort of game.
And it was with one of those two girls that I had my first real pashing session; once again while standing neck deep in water at the araban escort bayan beach. It was the first of many I shared with her in and around the local pool and beach one delightful summer.
As a youth and even into early adulthood, my wet dreams were always triggered by a dream about making out in water.
And now as Amy subjected my erection to hours of non-stop low level stimulation while I slept, I was back to having those dreams again. During the five nights our trip eventually took, we slept this way during every night off watch. That’s every eight to midnight watch and the following 4 am to 8 am watch – ten of them in all (the daytime ones being too hot to sleep that way).
Four times I climaxed to a dream of making love to a girl in water, which sort of brought to an end that particular night of perpetual penetration as my cock fell into a floppy mess. But it wasn’t always Amy I was dreaming about. Ellen was two of them, and overall she occupied as much of my dream time as Amy did. Even Issie and Tash crept into the dreams. And don’t tell the girls, but so did Liddy.
When I didn’t actually have a wet dream, I’d awake so randy from my dreams and state of constant stimulation that I’d need to pound Amy into the bunk to dump a load into her before I got up – until Ellen intervened. But Amy was always happy to take my load; indeed was a bit peeved when Ellen sought her share. Mind you ‘pound into the bunk’ sounds more dramatic than it was. After that period of stimulation, my endurance time was measured in fractions of a minute.
Even at night on the tropics, we could only sleep so intimately if we had as many hatches open as the weather would safely permit and with a cool breeze blowing across our bodies. And since the master cabin is directly under the cockpit, it would be fair to say that nothing that happened was unknown to Ellen and Tash in their on-watch positions.
It’s bad enough when the worst they can say about you is they heard you snoring.
But Ellen told me subsequently that they could hear Amy first start to moan and talk in her sleep and everything that followed. And since the boat was on auto-pilot and they had nothing else to do, they weren’t averse to looking down the hatch to watch proceedings; even more so if the sound was of me pounding Amy after I woke up. They were quite amused by the frenzied humping/thrusting action Amy got into as she climaxed in her half-awake state and my passive submission to it; more so if she captured my head awkwardly and uncomfortable jammed against her chest because I’d been sucking her nipples.
With Amy getting the privilege of sleeping with me, Ellen of course wanted her turns. That fear of missing out never really left her. She knew it was pointless trying to seduce me as I first came up on deck after blowing a load into Amy. My refractory period isn’t what it once was; even if the girls have improved it remarkably.
So the first night she came up on deck half an hour early for her midnight watch, took my hand, led me to the cushions in front of the companionway, lay down face up, unbuckled and took off over my head the Inflatable lifejacket with its attached emergency light and personal ELB transmitter which is a standard part of our night-time outfit (a rather curious sight when wearing it naked; more so when naked and aroused). Then she demanded I go the animal on her. No foreplay; just fuck the arse off her as she so eloquently put it.
That’s easy for her to say. Just sitting for hours across from a naked Amy had left me half aroused to start with, so I had no problem getting it up, even with Amy still standing there on the helm watching on. I’ve had to do plenty of audience performances before. But sticking my fully aroused dick into a girl – especially one I love as much as Ellen – and just starting to hard fuck her before I even know if she’s ready, is more than I can do.
I tentatively penetrated her, making sure she was receptive and lubricated. I don’t know what she’d been doing or thinking about in her bunk, but she was; wet, open and slippery. But somehow I didn’t then create the right sense for her of being jumped on and passionately taken – almost ravaged. She wacked me on the bottom, cried “fuck me” in a somewhat insistent voice and threw her hips up at me to turn my half penetration into a full one in an instant.
I didn’t need a second invitation. It’s easy to get passionate about making love to Ellen. Even in the moonlight, the sight of that tall, lithe, beauty faced, blond haired young woman under me was enough to drive me wild. I went at her with a will; knowing that – unlike many women – her swollen bud was well capable of getting itself in the way of my shaft both on the way on and the way out. She wouldn’t be lacking stimulation.
She was soon writhing under me; hypoventilating as Ellen often does in her excitement in this sort of extreme sex. Originally it was accidental in the heat of the excitement. But she found the oxygen escort araban deprivation enhanced her sexual excitement, so now I wonder whether she does it deliberately.
I’m always looking for any sign she’s about to pass out. My strict instruction from her is to keep going. And while there’s a certain sexual frission in pounding away at a limp body, it scares the shit of me when she does it. Fortunately she seems to have managed to control it better; taking herself to the brink, without going over.
This time she took herself to the brink of passing out, but not beyond, and was rewarded with a monster orgasm that had her throwing her hips up – and me with them – and suspending them there while she rocked from side to side and moaned incessantly. My role through this is to simply keep pounding because it prolongs her orgasm; and let’s face it, I’m enjoying it too. But her hips were high enough I initially had trouble getting enough footing to keep the thrusting going in the way I was.
But I wasn’t to be denied my pleasure. Quickly grounding my knees properly between her legs again, I thrust away, this time her lifted hips causing me to go in with a somewhat more vertical motion that raked along the front wall of her sex.
It reduced my pleasure a bit because I didn’t get the long, slippery firmly held thrusts that really blow my balls. But as it stimulated her g spot, the effect on her was almost immediate. She cried out in what, until recently, was a very un-Ellen like way. Not as loud or as profound as Amy, but more than loud enough to announce the effect it was having on her.
That just encouraged me to go all the harder; thrusting forcefully upwards before I let my manhood slip along the length of her sex and all with a pace that matched my elevated passion.
Ellen’s thighs were quivering madly – almost in spasm – as she held her hips in the air, receiving my pounding of her g spot. It culminated in her having another massive orgasm. And as my groin was soaked in a gush of warm fluid I knew she’d squirted; something only Ellen does and even then only rarely with a really good g spot orgasm.
I just kept thrusting, even as she eventually lowered her hips, grabbed me around the neck and squeezed me tightly against her; rocking gently back and forwards.
My endurance time when I’m having sex with the girls is highly variable. With my balls constantly kept empty by them, it would be fair to say on the whole it is as long as it’s ever been in my life. Then again, the sheer amount of sexual provocation they throw at me, can have the opposite effect; as evidence by the quick ejaculation I have after trying to pound Amy with an all night erection.
This one was a marathon; as the ‘go the animal’ ones, for some reason, often are. With Ellen momentarily sated and applying a moderately firm grip against my shaft, I got to enjoy that slowly building pleasure of my manhood thrusting rapidly in and out of the warm slippery void of her body.
There is something about that which goes beyond the stimulation of my erection. It is almost like an affirmation of my manhood as it does the job it was made for. Every muscle of my body is straining and working as, elevated on out stretched arms so I can look down at the feminine beauty below me, I throw myself uninhibitedly to the primeval process of stimulating my balls and shaft to release my seed so that it can – forlornly in this case – attempt to impregnate that beauty who has done me the ultimate compliment of willing receiving that seed. She’s physically calling for the deposit of my seed in her as I feel her tightening her sex around me to pleasure me and stimulate my release. It generates almost a sense of masculine power. Not a toxic one I’d argue; just a man being a man in the fullest sense.
And then there is the physical pleasure. That feeling that your shaft is getting harder and harder; an unyielding rod of wood which, even after you’re fully aroused, feels as though it is still growing longer. Those little tendrils of pleasure that shoot up and down your shaft like static electricity until a threshold is passed where, instead of being momentary, it’s almost like they start to fill your cock up. That’s when you know a boundary has been crossed. You’re going to cum. There’s no stopping it; just a few more moments are left to you to pound all the faster and harder to make the most of the last few seconds.
Maybe all men have a slightly different way of enjoying their climax. Mine is simply, in the last nano-second, to bury myself to full penetration and hold it there, letting me get maximum enjoyment from what I assume is the feeling of my seed rushing up the length of my cock and spraying itself against the woman’s cervix.
In this case my final release came when I heard Ellen gasp out another climax as the movement of my shaft stimulated her clit and felt the additional pressure of her contractions; both of us finishing in a heaving, writhing mess.
Knowing Amy had been standing there watching the whole thing made the untangling of our limbs and my need to go to the back of the cockpit and brush past Amy to use the cockpit shower to give me a quick rinse to wash off the sweat and juices I was covered in, both humiliating and an act of sexual provocation towards the woman I would soon be sharing the bunk with, all at the one time.