Unexpected Threesome Ch. 10

I'm still uninspired for a new story in my preferred first person from the female POV genre. But I've had a number of requests encouraging a continuation of this series. So here's another chapter.

This is a continuation from my previous "Unexpected Threesome" stories; although you shouldn't need to have read them to enjoy this.

Ned, the owner of a yacht cruising the pacific and now in his early 60's, has unexpectedly found himself seduced by his two long term crew - nubile girls in their very late 20's. Now a third is aboard.

As before with these stories, I am indebted to the male friends who have assisted me with relating to the male mind and body; and the red wine that made the conversation flow and loosened lips.

*****

After having sex with Ellen I must have drifted off to an exhausted sleep because the next thing I really remembered is waking up at 1910 hours (7.10 pm for you land lubbers) with memories of the most erotic dreams still in my head.

As my brain drifted into focus, at least part of the reason for those dreams became apparent. I had been sleeping face to face with Ellen. Her arm was over my hips holding me tightly against her, the front top third of my very engorged manhood pressed against her mound with it bent under and partly embraced by the lips of her crease. And because the boat was rocking, it wasn't a static embrace; it was rather rolling from side to side within the embrace with every movement of the boat.

As I looked down between her breasts, I could see I had been weeping copious amounts of pre-cum onto the sheet under me and could feel the very wet warmth of the fold in which my hardness rested.

And while it shouldn't have affected my sleeping state, it did nothing for my wakeful arousal that the position of my cock had been achieved by her sleeping higher in the bed than me. Since she was about my height, that meant I was more or less staring at her breasts; my chin brushing lightly against a jutting nipple with every movement of the boat.

It was tempting just to lie there and enjoy it. In fact it was tempting to do a whole lot more. But I needed to get up and make dinner for us all so that Amy and Issie could finish their watch with a full stomach and be ready for their own rest.

More without thinking than with specific intent, I didn't bother putting anything on before walking out to the galley. It's not that I don't like wearing speedos; indeed there's a certain sexual frisson in sheathing a pre-existing erection with them as you put them on and they actually make for some nice feeling foreplay. And conversely, I think the girls can often look sexier in a nicely cut bikini than stark naked. Maybe it's the tease factor; maybe it's the thought of the slow reveal and layered feel up of them up as you strip them out of it. Whatever it is, they have their advantages even if there is more in your face sexuality in being in the presence of a completely naked woman.

But in the steamy tropics, there is a definite advantage in giving that area a good airing; more so given the amount of use it was getting.

So when Ellen followed me out equally naked, it more or less set the scene for the boat to be a naked one while we were at sea. The trick was not to get anything sunburnt.

I could soon see the other trick would be not to go around in a permanent state of arousal. I know the first rule of a nudist camp is don't grow a public boner (well, and actually don't stare either). But the one I'd got out of bed with wasn't going down very fast and when Ellen joined me in the galley, pressed herself against my back and wrapped her arms around me and fondled it as she kissed up and down my back, any lost hardness quickly returned. I just hoped the nudist camp rule didn't apply if you were sleeping with all the residents.

As Ellen turned me around and gave me a full contact hug as she lip kissed me, I had a suspicion the 'don't stare' rule was going to be equally hard to follow.

"I haven't had such a great sleep since I left home Ned."

There were so many possible layers to that statement that I was too flummoxed to reply. My sleep had been good too; because it was deep and full of highly erotic dreams. Probably just short of delivering a night emission onto her stomach. Is that what she meant? Was she just exhausted and satisfied by the sex we'd shared beforehand? Or did she just sleep well; although there was an inference in her statement that I was somehow responsible for her well slept state.

I stroked my hand through her hair and gave her another kiss on her cheek as I offered up a neutral reply.

"I'm glad to hear it."

I turned back to warm up the curry that would be our dinner, trying to shield the top of my erection from the heat radiating from the stove.

It was at moments like this I couldn't help but reflect on the crazy turn my sex life had taken. Until my wife had been suddenly take from me, our sex life had been adequate. Twice a week of conventional, fairly predictable sex. I wasn't complaining. I was doing better than a lot of guys my age and it was enough to keep any sense of frustration at bay. I was no stud and never had been; just your typical caring, well domesticated and loving husband.

If in the last few years my erections had been less frequent and not as hard, and maybe even as big, as I'd once remembered them, I put it down to the effects of getting older.

Now I was being asked for sex two or three times a day and going through each day and night in what seemed like a permanent state of arousal. My erections had gone back to being hard and big enough that they felt like they were ready to burst. There was no doubt in my mind that the only reason I was able to sustain it was the fact I had these two - now three - beautiful, nubile, young women prancing around in front of me in teasingly brief, sexualised bikinis when they weren't actually throwing themselves at me and draped over my body. The flood of testosterone or whatever other hormones that produced had made all the difference.

Staring at them, indeed wallowing in their sexualised beauty, was an essential part of the game if I was going to keep my end up.

By the time I came up on deck with the dinner, Ellen was already settled into the cockpit with the other girls. They had no doubt registered her naked state - and I saw them noticeably register mine as I joined them, but they didn't immediately throw off their bikinis. At least my cock had gone momentarily flaccid.

Ellen sat next to me as we ate, so I wasn't distracted by staring across at her naked crotch. Mind you, that of Issie and Amy opposite me became no less of a distraction; if for other reasons.

Issie is quite openly a voyeur. Just about any time I'd snuck a one on one with Amy while Issie was aboard, we'd find her staring in a window with a hand down her pants or slumped in a post orgasmic state with a large wet patch in the gusset of her bikini pants. Even in the rapidly fading tropical light, a large, dried, material stiffening, stain was clearly visible in the gusset of her light salmon pink bikini which hadn't been there when Ellen and I had retired below a few hours ago. As I looked more closely I could also notice a smaller but darker stain around each nipple; as if she had been tweaking the nipple and her body oils had permeated it.

It made me look at Amy and while her light blue pants and the angle of my view made it all less obvious, I was sure I could see a dried stain in them too.

There is a hatch that looks straight down from the cockpit onto the bed Ellen and I had shared. I tend to just forget all about it when I'm lying there, but the thought of them peaking in and getting off on the sight of Ellen and me making out was somehow arousing; even more so because they'd been showing an increasing inclination to stimulate each other during our threesomes and it made me wonder if they'd been helping each other along as they'd been watching.

That arousal quickly manifested itself physically. When you're naked there's no hiding these things. Even the plate on my lap drew attention to it rather than disguised it as it started levitating as if it was possessed. In the end there was no alternative but to pick the plate up and keep eating with it under my chin as if nothing was happening. If I hoped the others wouldn't notice, that hope was disabused when Ellen slid her hand across my lap and tickled it with her fingers. The previous half-mast rapidly turned into a full vertical pole, something she drew attention to.

"I wonder what brought that on?"

I ignored the question, but Issue didn't.

"I think he's having dirty thoughts about us."

To which Ellen replied.

"I hope so."

The little distraction not withstanding, once they had finished dinner, Issie and Amy retired below to try and get their own nap on the off watch before they took over again at midnight. It struck me that something that Issie and Amy hadn't thought about enough was how they were going to get any threesomes in while we were at sea. Indeed, if I was going to always be sharing watch with Ellen, how they were going to get their share of sex at all unless I left Ellen on deck alone.

This leg wasn't so bad. It was only 48 hours. They could probably suffer sexual deprivation for that long. But there'd be future ones where we'd be at sea for a week.

But their departure below left me alone again with Ellen; a tall, stunning and very naked Ellen. For a while we could keep ourselves busy. When you take over a watch, the first thing you need to do is get yourself back up to speed with how things are on the boat.

In these waters, above all else, that means knowing where you are. Ellen efficiently went about taking our position and going below to plot it on the chart to ensure we were still well clear of any hazards and heading where we should be. With the autopilot controlling the steering, I kept myself busy doing a circuit of the boat checking all the gear and sail trim.

Having finished my job I sat down on the forecabin roof admiring the view out to starboard where the moon was just rising, casting a beautiful dancing reflection over the rolling swells as the phosphorous wake from our bow spread out to meet it. Ellen soon joined me, sitting close enough that her hip was pushed firmly against mine and our thighs were in contact for their full length. I couldn't help it. The contact with her naked flesh produced a predictable reaction and all I could do was ignore it.

Ellen broke the silence.

"Beautiful, isn't it."

"I never grow tired of it... There's been nights I've sat here watching for hours."

There was a moment's silence before I added. "Where did you grow up Ellen."

"Avalon. My parents still live there."

So, my evaluation had been correct. She was a peninsula girl.

"Did you always want to be a doctor?"

"Since I was a little girl. When one of my friends hurt themselves in the playground I just wanted to be able to help them."

"Did you find doing the course lived up to your expectations?"

"Yes and no. I suppose I came to realise that a suburban medical practice isn't exactly a daily matter of life or death. Mostly patients with colds and heartburn. It's partly the reason I want to do emergency medicine. Mind you, I will miss the closer relationship with your patients that a suburban practice gives you and the fact that, at its best, you can really influence their lives for the better. But it's all so corporatized now. A quick consultation and push them back out the door for the next one or the accountants will come after you. It sort of spoilt it for me, especially as I often felt I wasn't doing enough to look after their longer term health. Maybe one day, when I can afford, it I'll come back and open my own practice where I can worry more about the patients than the money."

"What have you been doing out in the Pacific?"

"I took a role with Médecins Sans Frontières in the Solomon Islands. Then after the cyclone went through I heard they needed volunteer help at some clinics in Fiji. The Fijian people were really lovely to work with and I felt privileged to be allowed to do so, but when that crisis passed I decided I'd make my way home while cruising on yachts. I'm afraid I was a bit naïve and my first choice of a yacht to go on wasn't that good. Thank you for rescuing me."

It was really hard not to like Ellen. You could tell that what she was talking about wasn't virtue signalling or CV building. It came from the heart. There was a passion in her voice and the way she spoke about it. I was already feeling quite close to her; hell I was falling in love with her or at least as much as I would let myself for what could only be an affair for the duration of the trip. A girl like that always leaves me wondering why she hasn't had a string of suitors chasing after her.

I took a risk and asked a question I knew as none of my business.

"Did you leave a boyfriend behind to make the trip?"

"No. I suppose I was too busy with my studies to get deeply involved with someone. It's a pretty intense course and I'm a bit of a swat at heart. There were some really nice guys I went through Uni with and in the early years of my course I had a few friends with benefits arrangements to keep me grounded for my sexual needs; but I kept them at arm's length. Maybe none of them really were what I was looking for anyway.

As the years went on I decided that these were going to be the guys I'd be sharing my profession with. I thought it was better to adopt a 'relationship or no sex' rule and since I didn't find a relationship, the no sex won by default.

The same since I've been away. I wanted to keep a purely professional relationship with my co-workers and as I'm sure Issie and Amy have said to you, the quality of younger males on the yachts in the Pacific isn't that high. I'm sure there's exceptions but I didn't come across them. It's been a long drought."

That was way more information than I'd asked for. It had all gushed out from her so quickly I hoped she didn't subsequently regret disclosing it; although I wasn't immune to thinking it was a strategic disclosure. I was pretty sure she'd just told me I was the first guy she'd slept with in something like four or five years. If it was meant to make me feel privileged, it had the desired effect.

I don't know why she picked that moment, but as we sat there she slipped an arm around my back and rested her shoulder against mine. My cock was beginning to act something like a yo-yo. It had sprung up when she first sat so close to me and then half settled down again. Now it was back with a vengeance.

We sat there talking about her experiences in Fiji and her family back home for about half an hour before my back started to get a bit sore from being unsupported; and yet I was reluctant to do anything to break the contact between us. Still I figured it wasn't that comfortable for her either. The mast was right behind us, so I suggested we lean back on it.

As I started to shuffle back to it, I thought I'd lost her when she stood up. But instead she waited until I repositioned myself, then sat down between my legs; bringing herself in until my erection was pushed against her back. Then she took my hands and wrapped one of my arms around her lower stomach and the other around her chest, high enough to be in contact with the bottom of her breasts, resting her head back on my shoulder.

I had to supress a groan of pure bliss as she overwhelmed my senses. Her soft flesh pushed against my body, the feminine aromas invading my olfactory centres and the thick, blonde cascade of her long hair that ran down my chest and brushed against the tip of my erection all brought me to a heightened sense of arousal. Not just a physical one, although that was ready to burst, but more than anything a mental one. I felt entirely receptive to her needs, hanging off every word she spoke as if it was that of a goddess.

As we continued to talk; about her studies, my own professional background and the personal tragedy that had brought me to this phase of my life, I felt her body physically relax into mine; as if she was ready to merge them into one. It was a privilege to be allowed this close - this intimate - with this beautiful, delightful woman so soon after I'd first met her.

But I also became aware my hands were being ever so slowly redirected. So subtly at first that it took me a while to register. I soon found the lower hand resting on her mons while the upper one sat high enough on her breasts for her now hardened nipples to be resting against the side of my arm and hand. I wasn't wanting to be the one to push things along or turn an intimate moment into a sexual encounter. But there just came a moment her intentions were so obvious that to ignore them would be petulant.

I extended a finger and slid it into her crease. She let out a little hum of delight and pushed her head more deeply into my shoulder as I felt it move across her already engorged and moistened clit. She lifted my upper hand to be across her nipples to play with them at the same time she released the lower one to explore more deeply and actively into her crease.

Extending my finger further I found her sex already receptive to being penetrated. It seems I wasn't alone in being aroused by the intimacy of our contact and conversation.

It would be foolish for me to make generalised statements about my approach to sexual contact with different women. It would suggest a breath of experience that I don't have. But I would say that my initial fingering of both Amy and Issie in a way that tested out their g spot has been amply rewarded; for both them and me.

I pushed my finger in deeply and started raking the front wall of her sex; gently at first, then with a bit more pressure, adding a second finger in the process. Still, I hedged my bets by using the back of my thumb to stroke up and down against her clit; its prominence making that all the easier.

Ellen was no screamer. Barely even a moaner. Only her breathing betrayed her rising sexual excitement and I had started to assume it was more the stimulation of her clit than anything I was doing with my extended fingers that were achieving that. So it took me by surprise when her body suddenly tightened and her face screwed up into one of intense focus as in a still quiet but decidedly audible voice she exclaimed -

"Oh, oh Ned. That's beautiful. There... no higher. A bit firmer. Oh..."

I concentrated on raking that part of the wall of her vagina she'd identified, still thumbing her clit, taking my cues from the continuing stream of "Oh...oooh...OH.." that she whispered ever so quietly into the ear that was next to her head as it lay back on my shoulder. Her body tightened further to the point it started to shudder a bit with the rising tension.

The release - her climax - was signalled by a sudden gush of fluid over my hand, a prolonged, intense but still quiet "Oharrrohhhhaaarr" and the lifting and rocking of her hips as her hand clamped mine inside her.

I held my hands still as she settled back down until her body limply rested motionless against mine.

"Oh Ned, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I've never done that before."

"What."

"Pissed on someone as I've climaxed."

"I think it's called squirting and I suspect most guys think it's a good thing. Some might even get a fetish about it. Anyhow, I thought it was some sort of female ejaculation."

"This is probably not the time to act all doctorary, but they've recently done tests to show that it's basically piss. What about you, do you have a fetish about it?"

"I've only encountered it a couple of times in my life, so no. But I'm happy to take it as a compliment on the sex if that makes you feel better about it."

"It's certainly a compliment. That was so intense. I'm not sure I've ever had one like that before."