Emily: A Great Long Root

Emily: A Great Long Root

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Tags

Summary

Emily enjoys sex unlike anything she's had before

Tags

Summary

Emily enjoys sex unlike anything she's had before

Content

Submitted: February 01, 2017

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 01, 2017

A A A

A A A


[This is a sequel to “Emily: Seduced on the Foredeck”, and “Emily: Fingered on the Beach (in that order)

But you don’t need to have read those to (I hope) enjoy this story]

 

 

We swam out and climbed back aboard the yacht; drying ourselves while standing in the cockpit.

 

After helping Adam set out the sun awning that spans between the spray dodger and the bimini, I left him sitting on his towel, letting the warm air complete the drying process, while I ducked down to set out the lunch.

 

It was nothing elaborate. Just the anti-pasta that dad tends to use as his default boat lunch; which in this case consisted of supermarket packets of processed meats, cheeses and sun dried stuff that dad had given me in a bag before we left.

 

Momentarily alone with my thoughts, I had to wonder at the orgasmic display that I just put on at the beach. I’m not that hard to get to cum and yes, I can be known to lift my hips as I actually cum. But I don’t usually squirm about before then and scream and have the orgasm go on for over a minute like Adam had just caused me to. Indeed, until that moment, I’d always thought erotic writing stuff about women bucking about was nonsense.

 

I wasn’t complaining. It, and the one he’d given me on the foredeck at sea earlier, were probably two of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. The foredeck one I’d explained to myself – and to Adam – as a sort of release of the built up misery from my breakup with Luke.

 

But Luke hadn’t entered my head since Adam had talked about a relationship. I know I’d been emotional for the last week, but something else was at work; something special about Adam. Whether that meant we were somehow meant for each other or he was just a better lover I didn’t know. Or maybe I was just being a silly girl and it would all turn to ordinary the next time.

 

After connecting my MP3 player to the Yacht’s sound system and playing it through to the cockpit speakers, I carried and up passed the food and some utensils, where we set it all out on the cockpit table. Then I sat down next to Adam; putting a hand high enough on his thigh to be in intimate contact and leaving me one to eat the finger food with, something he reciprocated.

 

Adam was still only dressed in Dad’s speedo style swimwear. I’ve always wondered why they were so unpopular with younger guys. Sure they look disgusting on some pot-bellied, wrinkly skinned, older guy, but on someone like Adam they look really hot. But there was one issue with them I could see guys might have. As the hand on his thigh brushed against his ball sack, he grew a half erection. It poked out diagonally, bisecting the angle between his stomach and his thighs, pushing into the material in a really obvious way that left nothing to the imagination.

 

After a few mouthfuls I stood up to reach across the table for the bottle of mineral water to pour us both a drink. Inevitably I needed to bring my butt across Adam’s face.

 

Suddenly Adam put and hand on both my hips, momentarily freezing me in place. Next thing I know he kissed me on both butt cheeks, pulled down the back of my bikini pants, kissed again the bare flesh and then took great care restoring my pants neatly in place.

 

“You have no idea how often I’ve wanted to do that when you were shaking your butt under my nose while you were grinding the winches.”

 

I twisted around to talk to him as he continued to hold my hips.

 

“I thought my sailing shorts were fairly daggy.”

 

“Your butt would look irresistible in anything; but you’re underestimating your shorts. Anyhow, you’ve forgotten the seasons you were wearing leggings.”

 

Ah yes; the leggings. Normally sailors wear shorts unless it’s really cold. But the Australian sun is unrelenting; unlike anything in the Northern hemisphere. Ideally you’d like to wear something to protect yourself. But it needs to be not too hot to wear, to dry quickly without chilling you in the process and offer some bruise protection. That’s an impossible list; miracle fabrics notwithstanding.

 

Dad’s nominated crew colours are white pants and a mid-blue crew shirt. In desperation I went looking for a pair of white leggings; something not that easy, if impossible, to find. Leggings, yoga pants, active wear pants, call them what you will. They vary in cut from those that are flat bottomed to those that mould to you and into all your crevasses like they were spray painted on. The ones I eventually found a couple of seasons back were way into the latter category. They also had a tendency to go somewhat transparent when wet.

 

I satisfied my own level of modesty by wearing a thong bikini bottom underneath them; anything more substantial being almost impossible given the cut of the leggings. But it probably did sometimes show more at the rear than people are used to seeing.

 

Anyway, after two years they got snagged and torn and I couldn’t find a replacement; so went back to shorts. I had to concede a point to Adam.

 

“Yea, the leggings might have been a bit showy; although if I could replace them I still would. They were very comfortable.”

 

“A bit showy! I needed to go into therapy every time I got off the boat after working behind you while you were wearing them.”

 

“And what sort of therapy would that have been? Might it have involved your girlfriend at the time?”

 

Adam blushed; revealing I’d hit a bit too close to home in obliquely suggesting the best therapy was a good root with his girlfriend.

 

Recovering his composure, Adam finally replied.

 

“I refuse to incriminate myself. Anyway, it might have helped, but it wasn’t the same.”

 

That left open the question of - “The same as what?” I suspected what he really wanted to do went well beyond kissing my butt cheeks. It may well have been the case that this morning provided the therapy he’d been needing all along.

 

Finally picking up the bottle, I poured us both a glass and returned it to the other side of the table. As I went to sit back down, Adam used his hands to guide me onto his lap; something I’d been half inclined to do anyway.

 

Coming onto his lap in the v formed between his stomach and his half erection, the latter was pushed down by my crotch until it lay parallel with his thighs. It swelled and hardened, pushing up firmly into my front crease where the warmth of its blood flow transmitted itself to my own swollen bud.

 

There we sat; me passing Adam pickings from the table in accordance with his requests and occasionally turning around and putting them directly in his mouth. Lunch, leisurely and satisfying though it was, was interspersed with playful rocking to the music; even singing to it sometimes – Adam disclosing in the process a pretty good singing voice.

 

His hardness continually surged against my bud, pushing up anxiously as it fought to regain some verticality; more so as I moved on his lap when I danced on it, stretched to reach some food or twisted around to face him and talk. And let’s not kid ourselves that the dancing had only been about enjoying the music. I’d moved forward enough that the top of his erection was sitting against my clit. Captured by the folds of my front bottom, curving up into it, as I moved on his lap I could get it to stimulate my clit in a circular motion; controlling completely the speed and pressure, slipping back a bit to let the side of the bell play against it and then forward again to spear it with the tip, all as I kept to the beat.

 

If at first the pretence of non-sexual playfulness had been important, I had to drop it when he slipped out of place with a particularly vigorous dance move on his lap. Unable to reset it in any other way, I put my hand down between my legs and his, squeezed between my fingers the anxious, unyielding end of his manhood and manually moved it back where I wanted it. Once again I felt that my bikini bottoms had been reduced to a wetness which permeated the material; this time joined by the copious pre-cum seeping through Adam’s pants. Our swimwear was sliding against each other like skates on an ice rink. No wonder it felt so good.

 

I knew what all of this was doing to Adam. I felt how hard he was, I could sense how fast his heart was beating in his chest even as we talked, sang and played. But we were co-conspirators in this sexual game. The only real question was whether we finish it here or do it properly down below.

 

The answer came when I suddenly realised I was going to climax; aware I’d gone past the point where I could stop it. It was going to be quick; I could feel my abdomen tightening in anticipation of what was to follow.

 

In a hopeless attempt to hide it from Adam, I suppressed the noise I made down to a sort of grunt, closed my eyes, squeezed my legs tightly together and pushed down into his lap as I squirmed about; desperately, somehow trying to time it to the music. Oh, god! The very time I’m wanting it to end before Adam twigs to me, it just seems to go on and on, like time was standing still.

 

And then, just when I think it’s over, the squirming on his lap with his cock pressed hard into my bud triggers a second; an explosion of pleasure I can’t contain. The grunt becomes a slow mournful sign and I bend over, head nearly on the table; contraction after pleasurable contraction washing through me.

 

With his arms around my waist, Adam waited until I raised my head, and with a deliberate sense of understatement asked –

 

“Did you just go off?”

 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer. I stood up, turned to face him, pulled him to his feet by his hand and led him down to the front cabin. When we got there I turned around to face him. There’d been enough hurried sex with half our clothes still on today. This time I wanted to make sure he was naked.

 

I knelt down, undid the drawstring on his swimmers, peeled them off over the erection that pushed up over the waistband and was now glued to the material by his own pre-cum and dropped the swimmers to his feet. With his hardened manhood, thick and long, right at my face I felt compelled to hold it, turn my face sideways and sloppily kiss along its length, taking half its circumference into my mouth with each kiss. I wasn’t sure whether he might have liked more. I’m not a great one for giving head. But I’d been teasing it for nearly an hour over lunch; I didn’t want to risk it going off early. I had other plans for it.

 

Adam pulled me to my feet, put his arms around me and kissed me as I felt him fumbling for the tie strings of my bikini top behind my back. The top came loose and he pulled it off me, bending down to suck each nipple as he pulled my pants down over my thighs as far as his arms would stretch while holding a nipple firmly in his mouth.

 

With his face still firmly attached to my breast, he pushed me the step backwards that brought me to the edge of the bunk, then lowered my back onto the cushion. His tongue never for a moment stopped flicking against my nipple with his face vacuum sealed to my breast, as he knelt over me, lifted my back and slid me fully onto the bunk.

 

Only then did he release my nipple to move back down my body, straddling my feet as he pulled my pants off me before grabbing two pillows from the side of the bunk and stacking them under my hips, leaving me arched over them.

 

In an instant his face was planted between my legs. I gasped as I first felt his tongue probe up between my lips, first teasing against my already hardened bud, now flicking against it; leaving me squirming under him.

 

He broke the contact, kissed the turn of my mons and then up my stomach; lingering over my navel as he plunged his tongue into its depth. Then further up, kissing each nipple, circling its hardness with his tongue, kissing around the flesh of each orb. Finally he started biting my neck; gently nuzzling and sucking the flesh.

 

He was driving me crazy. The only part of him in contact with me was his mouth and the hands that held my own arms above my head. Somewhere over me, my view of it blocked by his head, arched his body. Suspended between our bodies, defying gravity as it lay horizontal in its enthusiasm from its base in his groin, was his cock; impossibly hard and already primed for me, dripping pre-cum down onto my stomach.  

 

I yearned to be filled by it. The earlier orgasms, fingered on the beach and dancing on his lap in the cockpit, had done nothing towards satisfying me. The whole of the day up to now, the way we’d talked and laughed, played and pashed, and even those orgasms, had left me aroused, sexualised and wanting. It wasn’t orgasms I needed, it was him. The whole of him, his tower of manhood reaching deeply into my body, joining us as one; touching spaces inside me that I wanted only him to touch.

 

In desperation I arched higher, looking to bring that manhood between my legs. As I felt its tip touch my lower stomach, I squirmed to bring it lower where I could thrust myself down onto it.

 

Adam lifted it away from me, teasing me as he playfully whispered into my ear.

 

“You little minx. Don’t worry, your pounding is coming.”

 

And then playing on his use of the word coming, adding –

 

“And so will you be, over and over if I get my way.”

 

Finally he eased himself back down, our bodies in contact for their full length, the hard juts of my nipples pushing into his chest. The tip of his cock touched first on my swollen bud, causing my heart to leap as I gasped in pleasure, then as his cock pulsed in excitement, it slipped along the open flower of my womanhood until it found the warm, wet void it sought.

 

In a single slow thrust he entered me, its path finding no resistance; a void open and waiting for him and flowing with the honey of my body.

 

For a delicious moment he just lay on me, our tongues playing as we kissed.

 

And then a thrust; a slow single thrust that pushed deeply into me.

 

He stopped, kissed me again as he slightly repositioned himself.

 

Another thrust, as deep as the first. This time, something down there brushed deliciously against my swollen bud causing me to moan in pleasure. Immediately Adam responded by moving his hips in a small circle, exquisitely grinding whatever it was against my clit, bring from me a rising chorus of moans as I squirmed against him.

 

Satisfied he’d found what he was looking for, Adam rose on his arms over me. Slowly at first, thrust followed relentless thrust, each finished with that little grind that left me bucking under him, moaning and squirming in response to a pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

 

Way too soon I felt an orgasm wound tightly inside me, ready to spring. This isn’t how sex worked; it was meant to take way longer than this. Almost embarrassed at the ease with which Adam had me responding to his every touch, I tried to hold it back. But it was impossible. Moans turned to “Ahh’s” as my ability to control either my body or the sounds that escaped me evaporated. I was going to come, I was so close. With a final yelped prolonged “Ahhhhhh!” that gave lie to my statement to Adam that I wasn’t a screamer I lifted my hips and pushed them hard against him, squirming and groaning under the effect of an orgasm that just didn’t seem to stop.

 

Adam showed me no mercy. Increasing his tempo, he simply increased the semi-agony of the unbearable pleasure, prolonging it. A minute? Two minutes? Time lost any meaning. My body shook under him like some demented being with a finger in an electric light socket; my womanhood contracting continuously against the cock that filled it. But still he thrust and circled.

 

With a final cry I collapsed, limp and spent under him, a petite mort overtaking me as the final shudders of the climax still wracked my body.

 

I looked up to see him grinning back at me, his eyes constantly glancing down at my wobbling breasts as I rag dolled under him. His tempo slowed a little, his thrusting was shallower; no longer coming against my momentarily impossibly sensitive bud.

 

He bent down and sucked my nipples, licking each one. Looking over his head, I could see his cute butt rise and fall with each thrust. He brought his face to my cheek and kissed it before whispering in my ear –

 

“That was one. I hope you can count to twenty.”

 

Twenty? I think I’ll die a glorious death long before then if the rest were like the last one.

 

With exquisite timing, seemingly knowing the very moment it could take more, Adam started again the thrust and circle approach which was driving me crazy with his stimulation of my clit. This was way beyond any sexual experience I’d had before. It must have been no more than two minutes later that I again cried out and threw my hips up at him with the second.

 

More nipple sucking, then a renewed cycle of thrust and circle.

 

A third.

 

Suck, thrust & circle, thrust & circle………..

 

A fourth.

 

And so he continued…….

 

A fifth.

 

A sixth.

 

I was well on my way to the seventh when Adam groaned a little. It was different from the gentle grunting that had been accompanying his strenuous efforts. I looked up to see the most beautiful O face form on his previously grinning countenance.

 

For a moment he was still. Then he thrust hard into me, holding it there as his manhood pulsed and pumped out its load, accompanied by a long baritone moan.

 

Desperate now to complete my own orgasm, I threw my hips up at him, circling against him even as he withdrew slightly to thrust back hard as if there was more of his seed to be delivered. We crashed our groins together. Finding the release I was looking for, for a moment the moans and groans of our overlapping orgasms formed into a chaotic choir, our groins thrusting and circling untidily as we each sought the ultimate position for our satisfaction.

 

Mine was a quick one. Adam’s it seemed had many layers to it. A third thrust followed his second. He collapsed down to lay along the length of my body. There he shuddered, expelling a prolonged “oohhhh” of pleasure, as if his body was trying to wring out the final vestiges of ecstasy along with the last drops of his seed. He paused silently on top of me and then again he did it; this time jiggling a bit, making little mini thrusts with his still firm manhood. After a final third shuddering he lay quiet and still upon me, his panting steaming up my ear.

 

Lying deep inside my torso I could still feel his manhood. Maybe it had softened a little; I couldn’t tell. But it was still long and thick and in no hurry to escape the clutches of my welcoming body.

 

Adam lifted his face over mine. For a moment we stared into each other’s eyes, pecking at each other’s lips before we fell into a major pash, my tongue exploring the back of his throat as a hormonal surge of love and affection flooded my body.

 

Time stood still. It was a post coitus embrace unlike anything I’d known before. Tender kisses, followed by moments of unrestrained, face swallowing, passionate pashing that took me back to my first giggling physical interactions with boys on Bondi Beach. Adam’s attention moved from my lips, to nuzzling my cheeks to kissing across my breasts to back again. Still his manhood filled me as I revelled in his embrace.

 

I didn’t want it to end. But we had to catch a bus back to the city from the club after we’d docked there. It was a long bus trip and the last one left early. Eventually time overtook us. Adam rolled us both onto our side and withdrew, the impressive residue of his erection flopping audibly against his stomach as it was released from my body.

 

Reluctantly we got up and dressed and hoisted the anchor for the short motor to the club where I reversed the yacht into its allotted dock.

 

Mind you, sitting next to and talking to Adam on the trip home made the time fly. I was sorry when it was over.

 

The strangest thing was when I got home and dad asked the daughter who’d left home in a completely miserable state that morning whether she’d had a nice day with Adam. Not whether we’d had a good trip note, but whether it was a nice day with Adam. When I replied yes, he simply added –

 

“I thought you would.”

 

Had dad set me up? Could he even start to guess what had gone on in the last 12 hours? Bloody hell, the minds of parents! 

 

 

 


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