Unexpected Threesome Ch. 11

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Ned finds there's a price to pay for his romps with Ellen.
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Part 11 of the 59 part series

Updated 12/06/2023
Created 04/20/2017
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Joanmcarthy
Joanmcarthy
1,224 Followers

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.

*****

I had suspected there'd be a price to pay for the sexual romp my shared watch with Ellen had turned into. I didn't know how much of it Issie was actually aware of, but she had ears like a cat when it came to sex going on. I had to assume everything. And now she'd want to make sure she got her share.

She wouldn't put it in those terms. She'd just say she was feeling randy and wanted a bit. But even when there were only two women, sexual activity on the boat could easily turn into a spiralling orgy as each showed an unadmitted inclination not to be out done by the other.

With a previously sex deprived Ellen now aboard and sharing my watch, things could get out of control. It really did make me wonder if Issie had properly thought through the implications of bringing Ellen in and making her fully part of our family. Her talk of readily accepting sharing me sexually wasn't fully matched by her actions.

Maybe I shouldn't complain; although there is a limit to everything and at my age the limit is lower than it once was. But my real concern was that the competitiveness would turn into a more destructive jealously. We had a really good spirit and sense of family on board and Ellen had complimented and fitted well into that. I just didn't want it spoilt if things got out of control.

From the outset, Issie's action in positioning herself between me and the wheel and rubbing her butt check against my cock until it grew into a towering erection had been blatantly deliberate, however incidental she'd tried to make it appear.

Once she had the erection well established, I required nothing more than a...

"Hmm, Ned, you seemed to be pleased to see me", for her to turn the subtle into the obvious as she circled her butt cheek around on it.

With Ellen still sitting in full view half a boat length away at the mast, I just wasn't sure where this was going.

That question was answered when Issie slipped her hand between her legs, grabbed the top of my erection and brought it forward to bury in her crease, using two fingers to push it in between her lips as she started circling her bud on it.

If Issie and I had been alone on the boat I would have merely put the auto pilot back on, brought my hands around to start feeling up her tits and encouraged the whole process to go in the direction it was heading.

But we weren't alone. I had this strange feeling I was doing the equivalent of having sex on a public beach in front of everyone; even if Ellen was the only 'everyone'. I suppose when Amy, Issie and I have had one of our threesomes, there's usually one who's the main focus of my attention while the other looks on. But somehow that's different. The three of us are engaged in the activity, even if there is a certain amount of taking turns.

Here Ellen was nothing more than an on-looker.

Still, given the choice of playing the party pooping prude or letting Issie have her way, I chose the latter, trying not to let any distractions spoil my performance. In the back of my mind I had begun to suspect this was always part of Issie's game plan for dealing with three women and one guy on the boat; that sex would be open and public. The question was, did Ellen know about the plan. Everything that had happened so far suggested it had been discussed with everyone but me.

For a short while I just let Issie do her thing; using my cock to pleasure herself while I continued to go about steering the boat. I could even put the second hand back on the wheel because Issie was now centrally placed between me and the wheel - even if it did require something of a stretch of my arms. It was less a protest at what she was doing than an immature thought that if I stayed above it, in effect merely passively tolerated my body being used by Issie for her own purposes, that somehow I would be seen by Ellen as innocent of any public display of sex.

But that was mainly because my brain was taking a while to catch up with, let alone accept, reality. But as my hardness became increasingly sensitised in Issie's wet slippery crease, she became more excited and vocal, and the reality that this was probably the future of my sex life sunk in, the reservations slipped away.

Eventually I did what I should have probably done from the outset; put the auto pilot on and concentrated on Issie. It was that or call Ellen back to take the helm - and that might have made the area a tad crowded.

Instinctively I wrapped my arms around her and fingered her nipples.

Issie in turn slipped my manhood into the tight, wet space of her sex; initially bending deeper to offer me an almost effortless thrust in and out of the delightfully warm pleasures that her body had to offer. Like a cascading series of actions and counteractions, I in turn slipped a hand down between her legs to start fingering her now neglected clit.

Like that, I probably could have gone on forever. The feeling in my shaft was beautiful, really, really nice, but it wasn't building to anything. Issie was clearly getting more excited, but there'd be nothing new about her having multiple orgasms while I just kept pounding away.

But Issie clearly decided she wanted something different (and what Issie wants, she usually gets). She stood up, pressing her back against my chest, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and around my neck to bind us together. At the same time she angled her hips so that every thrust was leveraged against her pelvic floor muscle at the rear of the opening to her vagina, forcing my shaft to rake firmly against the mid to upper surfaces of the front wall of her sex.

In that position she took complete control of my penetration of her, moving her hips back and forwards and lifting herself up and down to effect the partial withdrawal and repenetration of my increasingly sensitive shaft. Clearly she was carefully working it against her g spot and I thought it best to let her control things; resisting the increasingly strong temptation to just grab her around the waist and go at her in response to the powerful stimulation of her actions.

All the time I've still got one hand rubbing her clit and another playing against a nipple and Issie is getting louder and louder in her vocalisation of her pleasuring.

I'm trying not to look at Ellen who is sitting right in my line if vision and, compellingly attracted by the noise Issie is making, is making a poor effort at trying not to stare at us. Issie is oblivious to it all. With her head thrown back over my shoulder, I can see her face in profile. Her eyes are closed, face almost contorted in pleasure. One moment her mouth hangs slack jawed open, the next it forms around a prolonged, forcefully projected moan.

Her climax overwhelmed her mid moan, it turning into a veritable cry as her body tensed in my arms and around my cock. Her head was thrown back so far over my shoulder, you'd think she was about to do a back flip over it. She jerked my swollen shaft almost violently within her sex; seemingly spearing the hardened tip repeatedly and forcefully against what I could only assume was the sensitised area of her g spot until she simply tightened her thighs and sex around my shaft and rocked back and forwards until her climax had run its course.

Once she was satisfied there was nothing more to extract from her orgasm, she simply bent as far forward as the wheel would allow and tightened her sex around my manhood, effectively presenting herself for me to finish my climax. Already highly sensitised by what had proceeded it, it took no more than three enthusiastic thrusts for me to be dumping my load in her willing snatch.

Issie waited patiently for the last, now familiar, shudders of my orgasm to be finished before she pulled forward to release my still firm shaft from her body and turned in my arms. Then with a coquettish, almost possessive, brush of her nipples across my chest and rub of her crutch against the still significant vestiges of my sticky erection now trapped between our bodies, she embraced me.

"Hmmm, Ned. I needed that. I'd been dreaming about it and it'd left me randy as hell."

For more than a few moments she just stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around me and her head against my chest. All I could do was reciprocate her embrace, stroking my fingers through her hair, letting her possess me for as long as she felt it necessary to do so.

When she spoke again, there was something in her voice that still gave me the sense it was for the purpose of possessing me longer, rather than a yearning for the information sought.

"What time will we get to the holding point off Fare?"

Fare was the town on Huahine-Iti we were heading for. But with surrounding reefs and a low tide, there was no way we were going in until the sun was up. So once we'd got nearby we'd go into a holding pattern of reaching off and coming back at dawn.

"About 1.30 on our present speed. It will be on your watch, so I've marked the point as a waypoint on the chartplotter."

"What time do you think we can enter?"

"Dawn is 0530 hours, so I'd say around 0800 hours. So we'll reach away until 0500 and then turn to come back."

Still she stood there embracing me. Looking over her shoulder, I could see Ellen by the mast awkwardly trying not to stare at us but betrayed by the frequency of the turns of her head in our direction, but I was determined to let Issie be the one who eventually broke contact.

After another period of silent embrace, Issie spoke up again.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself steering the boat when I came on deck."

"Yes, I was managing to shoot it onto waves to get a nice surging effect."

"Show me."

With that she turned in my arms, facing the wheel while still keeping her back and butt firmly pressed against me. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen it before, even done it.

I disconnected the auto pilot, holding the wheel with arms around either side of her body, letting her put her own hands lightly on the wheel. As a wave lifted our stern, I steered the boat away, letting it face down the wave and surge forward with its power.

Issie let her own inertia push her body more firmly against mine as the boat took off, jiggling it against me with her mild excitement at the surge. After about ten minutes of this I knew I was in danger of developing another boner. There was not the slightest doubt a lot of her jiggling had been directed towards it, but I wasn't really sure I wanted Issie starting another round. Fortunately I was saved by the time.

"It's 2345. I'd better go and get a cup of coffee and supper ready for Amy when she gets up. What will I get for you?"

"That's OK. I'm up so I'll go and get everything ready."

Issie slipped between my arms and headed below. I looked forward to Ellen who gave me something of a bemused smile back. In a way I was glad she didn't come back and join me and for the same reason I resisted my inclination to put the boat back on auto and go forward to where she was.

My strong impression was that the girls valued companionship as much as sex, maybe more so, and I thought it politic to keep some space between Ellen and myself given she was otherwise monopolising me during the watch system.

By 0015 hours we'd completed the handover and Ellen and I retired below, climbing into the bunk in the master cabin we were sharing. I was a little anxious that she might want more sex. I knew it had been a long drought for her and she felt a certain need to make it up, but in terms of keeping everything balanced between the girls I felt it might be enough for now.

Fortunately she just asked whether we could cuddle up, letting us spend the off watch alternatively paying big and little spoon; even if she did have a tendency to circle my erection with her hand when I was in the little spoon position.

At 0345 hours we were woken from a deep sleep by Amy with refreshments to start our next watch. She'd caught us with me in the little spoon position, but fortunately without the benefit of Ellen's hand warmer around my shaft.

Come 0415 hours the watch change was again complete. Ellen had checked the navigation, recalculated our ETA at Fare and double checked our proposed standoff route for any hazards. We were sitting in the cockpit quietly chatting when Amy came on deck dressed in a tiny bikini; unusual of itself when everyone on the boat had been naked more or less since we'd left Papeete.

"I was having trouble sleeping below. I thought I might try on deck."

Standing in the companionway, she then proceeded to bend deeply over the hatch to do something with the cockpit cushions laid out in front of it.

I think she may have been trying to secure a couple of smaller cushions to act as pillows. Whatever it was, she took an awfully long time about achieving her intended outcome. Far more than was reasonable. It only mattered because of the visual distraction she presented to me while she did it. And that of itself was a problem only because I'm sitting talking to a tall, slim, attractive, intelligent and completely naked blonde and my eyes and attention is fully drawn to Amy's bikini butt.

The moonlight was reflecting strongly off the white surfaces of the cockpit and deck, meaning she was fairly well lit up.

Let's face it, Amy's got a fantastic butt. As nice as Ellen's, but in a different far more sexualised way. Her tiny Brazilian cut bikini folded completely into her butt crack as she'd bent over, displaying its shape in all its glory, and indeed highlighting it far more than complete nakedness could.

Between her legs - widely spread apart to balance her against the roll of the boat - the swollen bulge of her mound was eye drawingly highlighted against the white of the fiberglass. Every time she lent further over the companionway she must have compressed it against the side of the cockpit - causing it to cycle through swelling and unswelling in a way that would force any normal male into sexual thoughts.

And then, when she was finally finished, she climbed up and lay herself out on the cushions; alternating between lying face up and on her stomach; but mainly the former.

Even in the moonlight, having Amy lay herself out right in front of me on those cockpit cushions was a leg crossing tease.

Her body had always drawn me. It was close to my idea of female objectified perfection and it just screamed sexuality at me. If what follows suggests an almost obsessiveness with her body, it wouldn't be a wrong conclusion.

She wasn't tall, almost petite. Her frame was light, but very femininely shaped. While her flesh covered her bones nicely, it just seemed devoid of fat; firm muscular tissue, beautiful to the touch that filled out her shape and supported a flawless coffee coloured skin of exquisite perfection. Her delightfully shaped, just nicely filled out butt and ramrod straight back made walking behind her in the street itself an act of pure arousing joy.

And yet that was just the start of it.

What really blew my mind and swelled my cock was what nature had done with her erogenous zones.

On a figure like hers, nature would normally have bequeathed her breasts in the 'A' or 'B' cup range, like Ellen. Not Amy, she had these perfectly shaped, perky orbs of 'C' cup breasts which sat high and firmly on her chest. They weren't pendulous or unnatural looking in their proportions. You might say they were the breasts that sex obsessed men might have designed for a woman of her size instead of the somewhat smaller proportioned ones that ordinary biology usually associated with it.

Capping them were nipples that of themselves were capable of driving a man wild with desire. Both the areola and nipple were of a slightly larger diameter than normal and of a completely uniform mid brown colour that contrasted just the right amount with her tanned flesh to make them prominent. The areola was like a low raised plinth on which the nipple sat; standing just slightly proud of the orb even at rest and visibly swelling with her arousal. As for the nipple itself, when aroused it was like nature's perfect plaything. So once again they sat in the goldilocks zone; not the ordinary little nipples that most women had, nor the grossly large, dark, unevenly coloured ones common on larger breasted women. Just these pictures of sexualised perfection.

But if you wanted to talk about goldilocks zones, it really applied to her mound. It was far more suggestive than the almost pre-pubescent mound that seemingly recedes from their tummy bulge and was perhaps the most common in women and made the currently fashionable completely hairless pubic area almost suspect, but nor was it a fat filled unsightly protuberance. As she lay on her back it formed a continuous straight line from her board flat stomach. A delightful, beautifully moulded swelling with a crease that wrapped itself around and well up the front, all of which screamingly advertised her sexual anatomy within.

Cap it off with her cute, soft featured, feminine face, perfect and engaging smile, large dinner plate soulful eyes and soft flowing mid length auburn hair and I found myself actually embarrassed about how much her physical appearance aroused me and drew me to her; obsessed me even. And yet I was no less enamoured by, indeed in love with, the soul who occupied that body.

The problem with her body - if you really wanted to call it a problem - was that it shouted so loudly that, not just that it was it at its nubile, fecund, ripest, but the exaggeration of all her erogenous zones also seemingly advertised a constant state of advanced arousal - whatever the reality of the moment.

All of that was distracting enough when she was lying naked and uncovered next to me in bed. But for some reason it drove me even crazier when she was laid out in one of her tiny bikinis across the top of the cabin.

Partly that was perspective. Lying next to me in bed gave me a great view of her breasts, but the rest of her body receded into relative distance with a top down look. Don't get me wrong. It was enough to swell my cock and leave it wanting action. But it didn't really offer the totality of the impact of the somewhat more stand-off view that I had as she lay on the cabin top.

The curve of the cabin top added to that, exaggerating the flatness of her stomach and in the process highlighting the relative size of her breasts and mound. This was reinforced by her slender thighs, which by sitting low, left her mound projecting teasingly above them.

Maybe most surprising of all was that the bikini itself and the pathetic attempt it made to hide what lay beneath was part of the attraction; if only because all it really did was draw attention to and highlight those swollen erogenous zones.

That night she was wearing my favourite, most powerful one. Her top was a spaghetti stringed tie slide tri style with unusually small triangles. Tied tightly to her like it was, it drew her breasts up and together, highlighting the depth of her cleavage and the perkiness of her breasts. The triangles were too small to both cover the turn of the bottom of her breasts and her nipples, so she'd tie it higher on her breasts, leaving a wide provocative strip of underbreast untouched by it.

Joanmcarthy
Joanmcarthy
1,224 Followers