Emily: Revisiting the big tease

Emily: Revisiting the big tease Emily: Revisiting the big tease

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica




A day on a yacht is filled with sex




A day on a yacht is filled with sex


Submitted: November 21, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: November 21, 2016




This story is stand alone. But it is a sequel to an earlier trilogy; The Big Tease, Oral in the Ocean and Fucking Under the Foredeck.


It had been two weeks since the last trip on the yacht; the one where we had finally found the privacy to consummate our relationship.


Each of us living at home might make good economics in an expensive Sydney real estate market, but it makes for a lousy sex life. It’s not so much that our parents expect us to be monastic; it’s just the awkwardness of getting down and doing it at the start of a new relationship in a house filled with your parents and siblings. And that’s before you worry about the sound transmitting walls.


But for me the situation had been compounded by my growing fondness – I might even be brave enough to call it attachment – to Sam. There’s a big difference between that general, vague sort of randienss and sexual deprivation you feel when you’re not in a relationship on the one hand and the barely controllable desire to rip off your clothes and surrender your body to a guy you’ve really got the hots for on the other.


If the tendency of his cock to turn into an embarrassingly visible boner in his pants in my mere presence was any guide, Sam was feeling the same way; even if I allow for the fact that being a guy, it might just as easily been the view down my cleavage that I was all too willing to present to him that was having that effect. And while girls might be a little more lucky in that their state of arousal is not as bleeding obvious, there were times I was aware that my nipples were betraying me; visibly reacting to Sam’s presence on a day when cold wasn’t an excuse.


Sure, twice since then at the end of a date night he’d fingered me and I’d hand jobbed him to mutual orgasms as we’d pashed in his car before I went inside. But it’s not the same is it? And that’s before you think about the mess it makes of our clothes. Greeting your parents with soaking wet undies under your short skirt, hoping there’s not a revealing damp patch on the back of it while trying not to walk bow legged is never the best form of entrance.


So it was good to get access to dad’s yacht again for another mid-week day on the harbour.


As I climbed between the boarding platform and the yacht I knew he was getting a panoramic view of my bikini clad butt. The mini sundress I was wearing rode up as I stretched my legs wide apart to straddle the distance between the jetty and yacht and get over the life lines.  I also knew that from where he was standing on the lower level of the dock itself, there was no chance he was looking anywhere else. He wasn’t meant to be.


I turned around to take the bag he was holding from him and drop it on the cabin top behind me; leaving him two hands to climb aboard too. Already the start of an erection was showing in the thin stretchy material of his boardies [#board shorts].


After last time, the getting ready routine was a familiar one to him. We moved back to the cockpit, opened up the companionway and climbed down the stairs into the cabin. There the food was taken out of the bag and put into the fridge before storing the bag in the front cabin. As I did last time, I stripped off my dress and left it there too; leaving me in just a very small bikini. More familiar with the routine this time and comfortable with our relationship, Sam followed suit and dumped his t shirt.


Then it was a case of opening up the boat; pulling back blinds and opening the overhead hatches to air the boat out. Sam had seen it before and eagerly helped; although we still found plenty of opportunities to brush provocatively past each other as we moved from spot to spot in the narrow confines of the cabin. And there was no doubt his erection grew within his pants with each contact. Captured by the material of the boardies, it was pointing outward; almost presenting a barrier to my passing. The last time it actually bent sideways and then flicked across my lower stomach before I could get past. Sam just grinned - no longer embarrassed by it – and I grinned back.


Then, as Sam now well knew, there were just two more actions before going topside and preparing it for a sail too. Firstly I lifted up the companionway stairs to gain access to the engine bay to turn on the raw water sea cock and check the engine oil. The engine access is pretty good in this boat and, with or without Sam there, I find the easiest way to do what I need to do is bend at the hips and stick my head and arms in. That of course leaves my butt hanging out and pointing upwards.


I’ve never doubted that dad’s usual crew enjoy the view when I’m the one who does it on race days; even if I’m usually wearing a less than flattering pair of sailing shorts. In the bikini I was wearing today, Sam was getting a lot more than that. I knew from the selfie I’d taken between my legs before the last day that a cute olive skinned butt (if I do say so myself) framed a tiny bikini that was now folded deeply into my bum crack. The leg seams curved sensuously around the mound of my front bottom while the soft thin material moulded itself tightly to the flesh underneath; a pinch of it captured between the lips of my vulva to create a noticeable camel toe.


This was no straight leg seamed, stiff planked pants view of a bikini butt. With the deep camel toe in the orange/ reddish material of the pants, my lady parts had reminded me of two quarters of an apple arranged neatly on an olive skinned plate and just waiting for the eating. They also reminded me of a baboon on heat; a not entirely inappropriate comparison.


That job done, it was just a case of bending under the navigation table to turn on the engine battery; an equally provocative action – maybe more so since two thirds of my body wasn’t covered by the companionway stairs as it is when I’ve got my head stuck in the engine compartment. What should be a simple action is complicated by a need to push the key in as you turn it in just the right way, which you never seem to get right the first time.


I was just about to extract my head when I felt Sam’s hands on my hips and almost immediately his shaft come up between my legs; the fairly rigid member slipping quickly into the camel toe in my pants and coming to rest against my already awoken clit. Then I felt his lips kissing the middle of my back.


If I was surprised, it was more that he’d had time to position himself so carefully in what is normally a fairly quick movement by me. On the last trip I’d set out to tease him with all of this; filling his balls with cum and body with testosterone in preparation what was to come later in the day. But that was to be our first time. Now we were both frustrated and randy lovers. There was no doubt that – whatever else it was about – today was about sex. Preferably plenty of it. Now or later or both mattered much less; although preferably both.

I carefully extracted my head from under the table, turning slightly to support my weight against the closed door to the bathroom. I looked down to see the tip of his shaft protruding from between my legs still covered in the material of his boardies.


“In a hurry are you?”


“Well it was a rather tempting perspective.”


“Really? I didn’t think you’d noticed.”


By now his hands had slid up my flanks and his fingers had curled around and found themselves inside the small triangles of my bikini top where they were teasing up my nipples into what felt like large volcanic cones. And I was rocking back and forwards on his cock. Very, very slightly; but it was enough to tell him that he was doing nothing wrong and get me quite aroused all at the same time.


With the blood rushing to my head because of my bent over position, my hands walked up the bathroom door until I achieved a somewhat more upright posture; my upper body angled at more like 45 degrees than the downward dog position I’d been in before.


That meant I could take one hand off the door and use my fingers to push his cock even more firmly against my clit as he too started now rocking back and forward, sliding it in and out between my legs.


His lips kissed up the length of my back until I could feel them find the lower tie of my bikini top and pull the knot before doing the same to the neck tie; letting the top fall off my body and onto the floor at my feet.


We were still getting our sexual routines together. I wasn’t entirely sure where this was heading. With him hitting all my erogenous zones at once I was getting really hot; maybe recklessly so and already moaning vocally enough to let him know it. Still, we’d talked enough to know we both had strict condom rules and there wasn’t one in reach.


One at a time, he took a hand off a nipple and used it to release each side tie of my bikini pants until it was merely draped across the shaft between my legs before he slid it out from between our bodies. Now it was just his pants that separated us.


He bent down to my ear.


“Do you want to move to a bed or do you want me to do you here?”


What he was doing was pretty good, even with his boardies still in place. I was in the moment and running hot. It may not have been fantasy sex, more in the category of a light touch quick and dirty fuck against a wall. But there was plenty of time for the fantasy stuff before the day was through. Through a moan, all I could get out was –


“Too late. Keep going.”


Progressively I’d been moving upright until I was almost vertical; the full length of his body pressed against mine which was now hard against the door. Now he was doing all the work; thrusting upwards, almost lifting me off the ground with every movement. I knew from when I put a hand around behind me to stroke him that his pants were half way down his bum crack as they tried to accommodate the massive erection curved around my crotch.


My fingers still held the tip of it hard against my clit. They were wet with the pre-cum oozing through his pants and the spray of my own body’s fluids. With no fly, there was no way to quickly get his cock out. But the material was thin, soft, sensuous and stretchy. I wasn’t sure what it was doing for him, but for me there was no need to.


The hand not holding his cock was now pressed as flat against the door as I was. I turned my head to the side to stop my nose being mushed against the timber, only to realise with some horror that I was looking out the open window straight across the empty marina berth next to us into the cockpit of a yacht with half a dozen people having a late breakfast. Momentarily I regretted that the opening up process I’d done as we came aboard might have been a bit too through. And then I just got off even more on the naughtiness of it.


People having breakfast or not, as my orgasm burst I couldn’t hold back a little squeal as my knees sank and I seemingly tried to arch my hips forward through the door itself with the ecstasy of it. It was like I was left suspended on Sam’s cock as a moment of weakness left me unable to support my own weight.


When I had the will power to communicate again I asked Sam –


“Will I go and get a condom so you can nail me to the door?”


“No, I think I’d prefer to pound you to jelly on the bunk.”


“Oh joy. And have me on your bread for lunch afterwards?”


“I’ll be having you afterwards. If you’re into kinky stuff with bread that’s OK by me.”


“Promises, promises.”


Even as we’d been speaking, I pulled him out from between my legs and was now walking backwards to the front cabin, dragging him with me by a hand wrapped firmly around his cock. As the back of my knees contacted the edge of the bunk, I sat on it, undid the drawstring and finally exposed Sam’s erection; letting his pants drop to the floor.


For whatever reason, he was circumcised. Bulging veins ran along the full length of his rampant manhood which looked all the larger for the lack of any foreskin. It anxiously surged and swelled every time I touched it, the bell at the top flaring as another flood of pre-cum emerged from the tip. It needed urgent relief; a relief only I could give it.


As I fumbled in my bag for a condom with one hand, I lifted it upright with the other, bent down and licked along its full length from the base to the tip. Then I rolled the condom on him before lying back and spreadeagling myself on the bed; a gift ready to be taken.


Sam came over the top of me. With his legs outside mine and his haunches drawn up under him to take the weight of his hips, he lay on top of me and kissed me as I slid a hand between our bodies to guide him into my womanhood. Pivoting on his haunches like he was, he could get really deep penetration; slipping in until he could go no further, then lying back down on me and just kissing for a little while. That’s what I liked about Sam. His clear need for relief didn’t stop him from making it something mutually pleasurable.


Still, as we kissed he started thrusting; slowly and gently at first. Then as he lifted himself up on his outstretched arms, more powerfully. Sam was only kidding when he said I’d be pounded to jelly, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t getting into it rather keenly. Noisily too. The effort was reflected in his grunting and made me think again of the people in the cockpit of their boat nearby.


With his weight supported by his haunches, I could tilt my hips to give me better contact; letting my vulva and the clit within it be mushed against his pelvis at the end of every deep thrust. I was just starting to get really warmed up again when Sam stopped, held for a moment, then thrust deeply into me and groaned loudly as he dumped his load before collapsing on top of me. Little after-shudders wracked his body as his orgasm continued; seemingly trying to wring every drop of cum from his balls.


As we kissed afterwards a combination of that awkward sensation that comes after sex and the heat of our bodies cooking each other on what was already a warm day finally overcame us. Sam had already pulled out of me and the full condom was resting on my stomach still attached to the end of his flaccid cock.


I was the one who broke the moment.


“Are you ready to go sailing?”


He didn’t so much answer me as give me a final kiss before climbing out of the bunk; offering me a hand to get upright myself. While Sam dealt with the thing swinging from the end of his manhood and put his pants back on, I collected the parts of my bikini and tied it all back together again.


We did some work getting the deck ready; taking off sail covers and that sort of thing before realising it was a hot sun and if we weren’t going to put some better covering clothes on then we’d better get a good lathering of sun screen. Now normally I wouldn’t go anywhere near a boat without a long sleeve top and at least knee length pants. But with Sam things were a little different. Yes, I wanted to protect my skin. But I also wanted to show off my bikini bod and see as much as I could of his (no, not his bikini bod; just his bod!).


So we went back below to where dad kept several large bottles of the liquid stuff; taking our chance to wave off the group of people in the pen near us as they slipped their mooring and reversed out. As they waved to us as they left, I for one was well aware that Sam wasn’t the only one who’d been perving at my bikini bod; although I knew if I was going to run around the yacht club dressed like I was I could only expect every male eye within a hundred metres to be on me. That conclusion is a bit like saying one and one equals two.


Once below, I grabbed the sun screen and offered to do Sam’s back. It was going to take a couple of hours to get up to Quarantine Beach and the screening up was something that needed to be done properly. As we chatted away, I worked down his back as far as the waistband of his pants and then down his legs; slipping my hands teasingly up inside the legs of his boardies to make sure he didn’t get burnt if they rode up. Then I went back to make sure the area under the waistband was done properly. Most Aussie kids know the pain of a bright red band of burnt skin where your swimmers have slipped down a bit after you’ve put the sun screen on.


As I tried to work the waistband down a bit I found that it was tied as tight as a drum. So I slipped a hand around to the front of his pants and pulled the bow on the drawstring. Then from behind I pulled the waistband out; making it quite lose and easy for me to slip his pants down a few inches to cream him up there.


Sam interspersed a few teasing comments into our conversation as I invaded the area covered by his pants and pulled the drawstring, but apart from that, the flow of our conversation largely ignored my physical contact with him. For most Aussies, this process is something that partners take over from parents (maybe with a few years gap), so it’s a familiar routine.


As I’d finished on his back, I put a hand on each hip to turn him around and stood back up. Instead of letting him do his own front, I just started doing it for him, starting with his face. Standing in full frontal contact as I carefully applied the stuff to his face, my hips were thrust forward enough to be pressed firmly against his pants and their contents. Those contents quickly reacted; especially as even the movement involved in spreading the cream over his face produced a gentle interaction between the lower portions of our bodies.


Even though I had to open up a space between us so that I could work down his stomach, by the time I‘d got as far as his lower stomach there was a one-eyed trouser snake peeking meaningfully out the top of the now loose and hanging down waistband of his pants. I nonchalantly gripped both the waistband and the tip of the erection in the fingers of one hand and pulled them out from his stomach to let me cream underneath.


As I smoothed the cream out across his stomach, the tip of his erection swelled to hardness under my fingers and I could feel a trail of dampness form under my thumb where it rested on the edge of his bell.


“Is it telling me it wants some more?”


“It’s been telling me it wants more ever since you pulled the drawstring on my pants.”


“So you let your cock do your thinking for you do you?”


“Don’t you girls assume it does all the thinking for us guys? Anyway, sometimes it comes up with some pretty good ideas.”


As I released my finger grip on his pants and erection, the latter sprung back against his stomach, while the former, now being entirely loose, dropped to the floor. I stood up and put my arms around Sam, kissing him as I pushed my body against him.


“Well, we’d better give it what it wants then hadn’t we?”


Without breaking our full body contact, without even stopping our passionate kissing, I backed towards the bunk in the forward cabin until once again I felt the edge of it behind my knees. Normally I prefer to be on top; it works better from me.


But there was something about Sam’s technique last time that had really started to get me going. I was willing to offer him the chance to give me another pounding – although that’s not really what it is – to see if we could bring it to a conclusion this time. So once again I sheathed him and lay back flat. Sam came over me; wasting no time in pulling the strings of my bikini to render me naked and chucking the pieces out onto the floor of the main cabin. Then he let me help guide him into me.


At this early stage of our relationship it was frankly just nice to get some sex and feel the heat of some full body contact. We both seemed more interested in just doing it conventionally rather than contorting ourselves into a thousand different positions. So Sam was just as willing to squat on his haunches again and after a period of kissing and playing, commence with a gentle slow thrusting; sometimes bending in to suck my nipple into his mouth and swirl it around with his tongue.


With Sam’s haunches taking the weight of his hips, it gave me the freedom to twist mine to get the mushing effect on my vulva and clit when Sam completed one of his full penetration thrusts and it was quickly working a treat. Sam must have been able to feel what I was doing because as I started to vocalise my pleasure he responded by doing a sort of double mash with each thrust; a sort of little mini withdrawal and repenetration to give something of a double bang ending to every thrust.


He was getting into it too; grunting and banging away with an increasing tempo and loudly enough that I was glad the boat next door had gone. I was just hoping that having emptied his balls not that long ago, he’d last long enough to let me get there before him.


I did too. With a gasp I felt the orgasm explode inside me; causing me to involuntarily raise my hips; pushing them hard against Sam and lifting him momentarily off the bunk as I swung an arc through the air.


The hands I had on Sam’s butt were telling him to keep going through all of this; prolonging my orgasm beautifully as my contractions pummelled Sam’s shaft. But eventually it had to end, leaving Sam still having a lot of fun on top of me.


It was then I noticed something that in the heat of my own arousal I hadn’t before. Sam’s vigorous thrusting had set up a gentle rocking motion in the boat.


Rushcutters Bay, where the boat is moored on the yacht club marina, is a complete millpond in a light Easterly like we had this morning. The high hills of Darling Point obliterate any wind or waves that might be out on the main harbour leaving all the boats riding absolutely dead still in their pens. Once before I’d been sitting in the yacht club bar sharing post-race drinks with the crew on a day like today when someone had pointed out a single boat half way down the jetty whose mast was proscribing little fore and aft arcs amongst a sea of otherwise unmoving spars. It went on long enough that a fascination with it spread around the whole bar; every eye seemingly on this mast with a mind of its own. Of course there was some fairly ribald speculation as to the cause of it.


That speculation was confirmed when a little while after it stopped, a slender woman with the most enormous boobs I’ve ever seen and dressed in a tiny spaghetti stringed, plunging neck bodycon mini climbed off the boat. I don’t know what bra size she was. Much larger than my own c cups I lose track of these things. But they had to be something in the double digits half way up the alphabet. They had to be false. Apart from mismatching her body, her boobs were almost bursting out of her dress and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra; yet they were completely perky.


Following her off the boat was a guy about 10 years older, dressed in the hastily reassembled parts of a business suit. Unlike her, he was heavy set; probably 110 kilos (about 230 pounds).


As she and her partner were walking down the jetty, the guys in our group quickly reached the consensus that her boobs were what you might call business assets. Why else would you do that to yourself? Even the guys thought it looked gross; if somewhat fascinating in a ‘can’t take your eyes off them way’.


They certainly didn’t look like a well matched couple physically and her dress looked classy in a manner out of place in a yacht club, even though he was wearing a suit. Either a sugar baby or a high class pro was the group consensus, with the yacht being used for an illicit assignation. I couldn’t really disagree especially when, as they walked past us, I saw he was wearing a ring and she wasn’t.


As they walked past the bar to exit the club premises, there was even a round of clapping broke out in one corner of the club, although whether the guy knew it was directed at him we’ll never know.


And then, after they left, the real yacht club snobbery was revealed, with the group next to us concluding she was out of his league; because his yacht was only a 33 footer. They were almost surprised she’d consented to get aboard, let alone get herself laid there.


And now, with that history behind me, here I am getting pounded while feeling my own boat rock under me. OK, this is an early mid-week morning, not a post-race Saturday afternoon. The bar is all but empty. And I’m not a pro, or married to someone else and I don’t care about the size of the yacht. And Sam’s not as heavy as the other guy and our boat is a bit bigger, so probably isn’t moving nearly as much. But still?


As he keeps enjoying himself enthusiastically in my body, it’s obvious Sam’s recently emptied balls were giving him a stamina he didn’t have the first time. I squeezed hard on his cock, clearly upping the pleasure quotient as, through his grunting, he moaned audibly in response. Then at last there’s that little pause he does as he reaches the moment before climax before pushing deeply into me to empty his load.


At last as he settled down on top of me, the rocking of the boat subsided to stillness.


By now we’re covered in sweat; the body heat between us almost overwhelming the sexual pleasure of the naked contact. Sam withdrew and sat up on the bunk.


“OK.” I say. “Let’s go sailing. Do you think you can put sun screen on me without that monster of yours demanding more?”


“Let’s see, you’re asking me if I can rub my hands all over a gorgeous naked woman who I’m incredibly fond of and not have my cock even suggest that maybe I should take advantage of the situation? I’ll tell you what, I can’t guarantee it’ll behave, but I’ll let you tell it that it has to be patient.”


With a “Deal”, I collected the sunscreen while he dealt with the full condom drooping off the end of his cock and then stood in front of him. He did my back first and by the time I turned around to let him do the front, the thing was rampant again; not helped by his obvious enjoyment at giving my boobs – nearly up to the nipples - a good coating of the stuff. I had to remind him I would be wearing a bikini top; something at which he feigned disappointment.


 As I looked down I could see pre-cum yet again glistening on the tip of his erection. It was time it was given a stern talking to. Interrupting Sam’s creaming of me, I bent down, garbed his erection like a microphone and spoke into its tip.


“You have to be patient. OK?”


Then I looked back up at Sam.


“Do you think it heard me?”


“It heard you; but a bit like a child told it can’t have what it wants, I think its feeling a bit petulant.”


“If it’s sulking, it doesn’t seem to have lost any of its enthusiasm. Will it recover?”


“I don’t think it has a very long memory. It sort of lives in the moment.”


“Good. Why don’t you finish creaming me so we can go sailing.”


So, counting putting it on at home, for the third time that day I was soon retying my bikini strings; and it wasn’t even 10 in the morning yet. I decided I really needed to invent some sort of quick release for these things.


Ten minutes later we were reversing out of the pen to motor down the still but crowded waters of the Bay and out into the main harbour where we could set sail. For the most part I took the helm, letting Sam do the hard work on the winches; although because I was long tacking the boat, he wasn’t really working that hard. Indeed he seemed to have plenty of time to come around behind the helm and snuggle into my back; slipping one hand down between my legs where his fingers rather pleasantly tickled up the flesh under my bikini’s crotch and keeping me at a high level of arousal without trying to finish the job. His own boner was pushed hard against my bum cheek.


By the time we’d anchored in Quarantine Bay the sun was a ball of intense fire in a clear sky of the most intensely blue hue. We’d been hot and sweaty from our activities before we’d even set off. With a couple of hours of cooking while we were sailing, first priority was a swim. So I let down the swim platform, dropped the ladder into the water and we both dove in; me off the platform, Sam off the seat on the pulpit at the front of the boat.


We met amidships and frolicked in the water for about twenty minutes; including a swim to the beach and back. The play was often sexual and there was no doubt he was fully aroused. But there were a couple of things stopping me from letting it turn into a fuck in the water, even though we’d got up to some pretty nice oral stuff last time.


Not least of those was a thing about the bull sharks. Apart from the usual rules about birds and baitfish, my general policy for swimming in the harbour is to do it in clear water over a sand bottom and don’t be in long enough for one to zero in on you. Dangling off the back of the boat, jiggling around like a worm on a hook while you pound each other might be a lot of fun but still not a good idea. And that’s before you think about the beachside eatery that was just opening for the day and the usual thing about condoms


At first when we got out, we each dried ourselves while standing in the cockpit. We’d got the worst of the water off and I was ready to sit with a towel wrapped around me on the cockpit seat when Sam stood close to me and gently wiped off some water running down my face out of my hair. It maybe took 30 seconds as a finger wrapped in an edge of his towel stroked across each of the three streaks of water. But by the time he’d finished there was a boner sticking into my stomach.


I let my towel drop to the floor of the cockpit as I wrapped one hand around his boardie sheathed boner and the other behind his back to pull him against me as I lifted my face towards his to kiss him. Sam responded, wrapping me up in his arms, holding me tightly and fondling my whole body as we kissed passionately. Almost immediately I noticed that as his hands moved around my back as he fondled me, all the ties of my bikini we being pulled.


When the second bow of my bikini pants disappeared and the pants themselves dropped onto the cockpit floor, I managed to free my tongue from the embrace of Sam’s mouth long enough to ask him –


“I thought it was being patient?”


“Not any longer. For the last two hours it’s being dying to stroke your pussy again. It’s telling me that time’s up.”


It wasn’t just time that was up! I undid the waistband on Sam’s boardies and freed the raging monster from its prison and let it arc vertically up towards Sam’s navel; wrapping my fingers back around the now naked firm flesh of his erection, feeling it surge impatiently to my touch. We were both now completely naked on deck. We were at that time the only boat moored in Quarantine Bay itself and my modestly from the beach was partly protected by the spray dodger at my back and Sam’s body now pressed firmly against my front. But Sam’s bare arse was fully exposed to the passengers and crew of any passing Manly Ferry. This was not a good place for stand up sex; his jerking naked butt would advertise pretty clearly what was going on.


I pulled my stomach away from its contact with Sam’s enough to let me fold myself under the dodger and reverse down the companionway steps; once again dragging Sam by his cock to follow me.


This time as the back of my knees came into contact with the bunk, I turned us around and threw Sam face up onto the bunk, then positioned myself upright on my knees straddling his lower thigh. Sam folded his hands behind his head as he scanned the naked female body presented to him. I could see his eyes move slowly from the slightly upskirt view he had of my pussy, up my stomach until they came to rest on my breasts; flicking occasionally up to my eyes.


In the spectrum of levels of confidence in your body image, I suppose I sit about half way.  At one level I know what I’ve been given and looked after is pretty OK. At least in a Victoria’s Secret model sort of way, as opposed to a Kardishian body. I also knew that on this day I wasn’t going through any cyclic bloating or yet carrying a post lunch food baby.


The stomach he’d scanned across was actually slightly hollow without me even having to suck it in; something I could see he’d lingered on and even lusted over.


I also knew that by the time a guy’s sporting an erection like the one bisecting Sam’s lower stomach and reaching towards his navel, the blood filling it is being drained from his brain. He’s looking at the big picture, not focusing on minor imperfections. Still like most girls, I knew where each of those imperfections were.


One part of my brain is having to fight off those insecurities while the other focuses on the moment and my desire to explode Sam’s cock with the view I’m presenting to him.


“Like what you see?”


“Love it. I could even be tempted to skip the sex and just have you kneel over me like that for half an hour for my viewing pleasure. Perhaps accompanied by a bit of inappropriate touching.”


“And what about that impatient erection of yours?”


“It definitely wants pussy now.”


“Thought so.”


I sheathed Sam and lowered myself down onto the monster; settling it deep inside me before lying down completely over the top of Sam. More romantically this time, and for a lot longer, we kissed, cuddled and even talked a bit before I started moving up and down. His erection might have been in hurry to stroke pussy, but that didn’t stop Sam being more than willing to focus on the girl once the erection was in her pussy’s warm embrace.


When I did start moving, each time I pushed my clit hard down against his pubis; mushing it a little.


Progressively I became more vigorous, soon lifting myself up over Sam on my outstretched arms. That gave him a better opportunity to play with my nipples; sucking one while twirling the other softly between his fingers and quickly raising both into large and very sensitive volcanic cones.  


When my first orgasm broke and pummelled Sam’s cock with my contractions, I thought I’d just squeeze him a bit tighter and keep going; doing the work to give him his. But before long it was me moving to another climax; maybe even this time more powerful than the last. And while Sam was clearly enjoying himself and his erection had lost none of its enthusiasm, I didn’t really get the impression I’d brought him to anything close to a synchronised orgasm.


My arms and thighs were giving out. I flipped him over to let him do some more pounding; something that got him there much more quickly. He seemed to like pounding; or at least what we had both now come to joking call pounding.


Staring at my body before we started seemed to have stirred up something in him. After we’d finished, he lay beside me, his head raised on one arm. With the hand of the other he stroked the flesh of my torso; circling out from my stomach but covering everything from my mons to my breasts. It wasn’t sexual; more sensuous even as he leaned in from time to time to kiss my navel and the exquisitely sensitive skin in the hollow of my stomach.


I was enjoying it; lying back relaxed on the pillow, often with my eyes closed. It was a nice finish; a good comedown from what had been some pretty stirring sex. But guys in their prime being that, it wasn’t long before that erection was back; suspended over my thigh with the used full condom drooping off the end like a wind sock on a calm day. Sam was ignoring it; his touching still directed to relaxing me, not testing my willingness for another round.


Then suddenly without any warning, but I guessed as a way of cooling his own growing ardour, he slapped my thigh and with a “I’m going for a swim”, stood up, bolted out of the forward cabin, across the main one, up the companionway stairs and through the cockpit before I heard the muted splash of a body diving head first into the water.


For just a brief moment as he’d left I’d got an amusing glimpse of his erection bouncing against his stomach as he ran, the weight of the condom’s contents exaggerating its movements. He’d clearly gone over the side naked. There hadn’t been time for him to put on swimmers or even slip off the condom.


In a way a swim was a good idea. I was bathed in my own sweat mixed with Sam’s. But I had reservations about diving naked into Quarantine Bay even on a quiet day. It might be alright for Sam. But while there might be thousands of yachts on Sydney Harbour, in a way the yachting community was a small one; in that everyone knows everyone (or someone who knows everyone) sort of way.  I was too closely associated with this boat. Even if someone didn’t get a clear look at me, if they saw a honey blonde, tall, lanky, naked girl in her 20’s, they’d likely know who it was.


I could hear Sam swimming around as I eased myself off the bunk. I was half way across the main cabin before I heard him softly call.


“Emily.” And again “Emily.”


I responded. “Coming”, while working out what, if anything, to put on.


Reaching out into the cockpit, I put my hands on my bikini pieces where they’d fallen in a heap onto the floor just outside the companionway. They were wet and cold; not very enticing. Thinking I could at least see what he wanted in my present state, I stuck my head out the companionway to immediately notice that the yacht that had previously been penned near us in Rushcutters Bay was now anchored about 100 metres off our stern quarter; the crew sitting in the cockpit having lunch. 


So, that was Sam’s problem. To get out of the water he’d be presenting a bare arsed view to our neighbours; probably with a bit of dangle between the legs thrown in. Amused, I retreated back to put on my sun dress; of necessity going commando under the very brief mini length of it. As I emerged into the cockpit, I picked up the pieces of my bikini and tied them to a sunny section of lifeline to let them dry. Then I collected Sam’s boardies and stepped out onto the swim platform.


He was holding onto the ladder in the water looking straight up at me as I stood legs astride over him; giving him a somewhat intimate view. He could see the boardies in my hands.


“What’s your problem?”


His reply was softly spoken. “I didn’t know if it was prudent for me to leave the water as I was.”


I looked over toward the other yacht. “You’re probably right. I’m sure they’ll be gone in a few hours.”


“Thanks. That’s encouraging. What about lunch?”


“I’ll pass it down to you.”


“Couldn’t you just give me those?” Sam was pointing up at the boardies in my hand.


“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”


With a grin, I chucked them over the back, about 2 metres from where he was, making him swim for them as they rapidly started to sink. Returning to the ladder, he clung on with one hand while fumbling the boardies inelegantly over his feet and up his legs with the other before finally climbing the ladder – still showing a fair bit of bum crack.


As we sat having lunch, Sam got a full commando upskirt of me; which given the shortness of the dress, didn’t even put anything in shadow. That monster was soon back inhabiting his pants.


Look, I’d like to tell you that after lunch and through the afternoon we indulged in sex in numerous imaginative erotic positions; to describe to you all the intimate details for your own sexual education. But the fact is, both times we did it – once before we left Quarantine Bay and again back on the marina – we did it girl on top, just like last time. I could pretty well copy and paste my last description here if that added to your reading enjoyment, but that seems a bit silly (go back and read it again if you really need to).


Was that a bit excessive? Probably. But you’re only young and randy once in life aren’t you. Certainly my girl parts and my thigh muscles were a bit the worse for wear the next day. But that didn’t stop me from booking the yacht with dad for the following week.









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