2 comments/ 158371 views/ 10 favorites Bareboaters Ch. 01 By: Jim Dogget BAREBOATERS A Jim and Mary Story CHAPTER ONE Over Christmas Mary and Jim had discussed their plans for a bareboat charter with Isobel. She was enthusiastic and was going to bring a friend, but the friend never materialized. So in the end just the three of them went down to St. Vincent for the eight-day sailing trip. They had a fine sail down from Carriacou. The first few miles were hard on a brisk wind, but then they had a beautiful run down the coast in the lee of the cliffs. When they turned into Tyrell Bay and felt their way up the channel the setting sun was warm at their backs. Isobel went forward as they approached the anchorage. When the boat stopped she let go the anchor and Jim put the throttle in reverse to set the hook in the mud. Isobel was wearing bikini bottoms and a loose tee shirt. As she bent toward the bow of the boat to tie off the anchor rode the cloth fell away from her body, allowing the setting sun to shine under her shirt and illuminate her bare breast. Jim looked to see if his wife had noticed. She caught his eye and winked at him. Isobel straightened up and picked her way back to the cockpit, jumping down off the side deck with a thump that made her small breasts jiggle. Isobel was in her forties, ten years younger than Mary. She was short, whereas both Jim and Mary were tall. Isobel's eyes were brown, set well apart, with fine lines at the corners, which crinkled when she smiled or laughed. She was solid, some would say chunky, with a little show of belly and small breasts, though it was normally difficult to tell exactly what size she was because of the clothes she habitually wore. She had obviously taken the advice of fashion magazines about how to dress a figure like hers. But she did dress down for the boat! They were moored between two other boats. Abeam of them was a sleek fifty-footer that didn't seem to have anybody aboard. Just ahead of them on the other side was a typical live aboard boat of about 30 feet with an awning, a wind generator and a row of jerry cans tied to the safety lines. As they settled in the cockpit with gin and tonics, their reward a good day's sailing, they watched a tanned blonde girl come to the transom of the other boat, pour water over herself, put shampoo on her hair and start to lather up. She was completely naked, and as she raised her arms above her head to work in the shampoo, the muscles of her upper chest tightened and pulled her small breasts upwards. They wobbled back and forth as she rubbed her hair vigorously; not in time, like a stripper's trick, but like two uncoordinated jelly moulds. The brown nipples brought erect by the dowsing of cold water flicked back and forth in the setting sun. "That's quite a sight," said Jim appreciatively. "I suppose you wish you could see something like that on this boat," replied Isobel. Jim was saved from having to provide a rejoinder by the appearance on the other boat of a naked young man with long hair and a straggly blonde beard. He reached up and helped the girl with her shampoo, but soon his hands transferred some of the bubbles to her body and on to her chest. She stood still, her hands in the foam on top of her head, while he massaged shampoo into her breasts. As he did so his penis twitched and began to lengthen, first downwards, and then, as the blood pumped into it, stiffening away from his body. He stepped close to the girl, and the erection vanished somewhere between her buttocks, and out of their view. The girl brought a handful of soapy foam down from her head and spread it in her crotch. The tip of his penis, now red and distended, briefly appeared between her legs, it's head nuzzling between the lips of her vulva. She bent and picked up the water bucket and poured it over their heads while he held her tight, his left hand on her breast, and his other hand splayed over her pubic hair, cupping her mound. The pair took no notice of the three interested spectators astern of them, who sat silently with their drinks half raised in an involuntary, but appreciative, toast. As the young couple turned and started washing each other down with a bar of soap, Mary said "Phew, that looks like fun", and Isobel replied with a wicked grin "Doesn't it just!" Jim kept quiet, aware of his own erection pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his swimming shorts, and not wanting to bring attention to it. Isobel said to him "And I know someone who got turned on by it?" and stared at his shorts. "Well, yeah, of course," he said, swallowing hard, and glancing at his wife, who raised an amused eyebrow at him. He looked back at the couple on the other boat, who were now in a passionate embrace and seemed to have given up any idea of getting any cleaner. The man reached away from the blonde, threw the bucket over the side and hauled it back full of water. He poured some of it over himself, and threw the rest of the water over the girl. "You shit," she screamed, laughing. She chased him and his cock, which was now at full staff, down into the cockpit. She reached round him and grabbed is erection in her hand and frog marched him, her front pressed against his buttocks, to the companionway. Laughter and squeals carried across the anchorage as they disappeared below and the sun began to set. "What a pity," said Isobel, "I was just beginning to enjoy the show." Mary got up without looking at either of them and announced that she was going to have her shower too. "Are you going to give us a show, too?" asked Jim. Mary just looked at him and went below. Jim bit his tongue. His wife was modest to a fault and even when they were the only boat in an anchorage would never shower nude on the transom. "Well, that went over like a lead balloon," said Isobel, sarcastically, when she had gone. And then she added, needling him in a quiet voice, "Pretty turned on, weren't you?" Jim was embarrassed, but laughed. "Sure. Can't help it" His wife came back, still in the blue one-piece bathing suit, carrying a large towel, soap and shampoo, which she dropped on the cockpit cushions. He liked the bathing suit because of the high cut at the thigh, and the zipper, which reached from her neck to her navel. Mary had thought it too provocative for a woman of her age and had been reluctant to buy it. But he had wanted her to get it because he liked the thought of unzipping it and getting her breasts out, and in the end she had humored him and bought it. He opened the cockpit bench at the stern and folded it down so that she could stand at the transom. Mary pulled the showerhead and hose out of the holder and the electric pump whirred as water sprayed over her head and darkened the blue of the suit. She put shampoo in her hair and rubbed it into a lather. She hosed it off, spluttering and spitting and wiping the water from her face with her hand. Mary turned away from them into the sunset, unzipped her suit, pulled the shoulder straps down her arms and peeled the top down to her waist. "Wow!" said Jim, surprised, and laughed delightedly. Without looking back at him she held out her hand for the soap. Jim loved to look at her. She was quite tall and solid. She had broad handsome shoulders, and her arms were strong with a little extra flesh above the elbow. She had a good waist broadening out into her hips, set atop solid thighs. Her calves were well shaped, the ankles narrow and shapely. Not bad, he thought for, 55 years old and four kids. The top of the costume draped around Mary's middle and she bent to pick up the showerhead again. Her full bosom swung below her chest, the skin in front of her armpit stretching taut as the weight of her breast pulled at it. She stood up and her breasts flattened against her rib cage, a little pendulous, but with erect nipples facing into the setting sun. He was aware of dryness in his mouth, brought on by the tension amongst the three of them that this simple disrobing had engendered. His penis was pushing the fabric of his shorts away from his thigh. He wasn't fully erect, but his heart was beating fast and he felt flushed. His wife sprayed water on her shoulders and down her front and began to soap herself, lifting a breast to soap its underside and shifting her breasts backwards and forwards as she cleaned them. He stood up, aware of his growing engorgement, and of Isobel's eyes upon him. "Give me the soap," he said, an involuntary huskiness in his voice. "I'll do your back." Mary handed him the soap but it slipped out of his hand and skidded across the deck to stop at Isobel's feet. He bent to pick it up, and as he stood up she opened her mouth and whispered very softly to him "Go for it!" He soaped Mary's shoulders, a familiar chore he always enjoyed, and then stepped up and pressed his chest against her soapy back. He enveloped her in his arms and hugged, her breasts sliding slippery under his forearms. She pushed back into his body and tilted her head back while he nuzzled her neck. He could feel his stiffness trapped between his stomach and the base of her spine. And he felt the engorged heat of it against his skin and wondered if she could feel it too. He hefted her breasts in his hands as he rubbed the soap into them. They moved in and out of his grasp. Jim felt the nipples slipping across his palm. The unzipped top of her one-piece hung slackly around her waist, the arm loops and cups empty, except for splashes of soapy water. "You feel good," Jim whispered. "So do you," she said pressing back harder and flattening his prick against him. After a moment Mary turned in his arms, and held the showerhead over him. She wetted him down and took the soap, while he held the shower again. As she did so she slipped her hand down the front of his shorts and gave his cock a single soapy stroke. Even that was almost too much for him, as he was now getting very excited by his wife's display, and by the fact that Isobel was watching them. Mary looked at Isobel over his shoulder. Isobel was still sitting on the cockpit cushions, her drink halfway to her lips. She caught the wife's gaze. "Don't mind me, you two," she said, a slight smile playing across her face, "I'll just sit here and watch". Mary noticed rising color in Isobel's cheeks, but didn't know if it was the sun that was responsible, or the scene on the boat that was beginning to get to her. Isobel was watching them intently, but funnily enough Mary didn't feel uncomfortable to have her watching. Mary had not intended to be half-naked in front of Isobel, with her husband's erection sticking into her belly like a truncheon, but after she had started to shower the residual memory of the couple on the other boat had stimulated her to a flash of daring. And now here she was, with Isobel watching them both, and she and Jim half washed and half not, tits out and cock hard. She reached her thumbs into his waistband and pulled his shorts down. He got a stunned look on his face as his backside was bared to their sailing companion. The waistband snagged the end of his member, which scraped against the fabric liner of his shorts and sprang free. She gave him a quick squeeze as she stood up, an action shielded from Isobel by his body. He in turn grasped the sides of her suit and pulled it down, over her rounded belly, past her thin cloud of pubic hair, down her smooth thighs and let it drop at her feet. Isobel took a large swallow of her drink, feeling the buzz from the gin, and the heat rising in her cheeks. She watched as the man soaped his wife. She saw Jim's hand disappear between their bodies, the soap making a squelching sound as he worked it between her thighs. The couple was not in the first flush of youth but the sight of them was arousing. Isobel had known them for a long time and they always seemed pleased with each other, and enjoyed showing each other affection. She just had not expected to see them naked together. Jim was tall, at least six feet and his beard had turned mostly gray in the years she had known him. Mary had kept a good figure, even though she had delivered four children. She had an attractive strong face with a few wrinkles from too many years in the sun. There were crow's feet at the corner of her eyes, which creased beautifully when she smiled, as she often did. She was thickening a little, but had a good waist, broad hips, and heavy, full breasts. Mary was now soaping Jim, and as she turned him round to soap his buttocks Isobel was faced with his aroused penis, sticking out from his crotch. Its red glans jerked on the end of the shaft as his wife rinsed them both off. They dried each other without looking at Isobel, and Mary wrapped the towel around her, covering herself from the slope of her breasts to the top of her thighs. She sat down on the seat cushion by the stern and picked up her drink from the cockpit table. Jim looked nonplussed since his wife had taken the only towel, leaving him with his erection waving in the sun's dying rays. After a little hesitation he picked up his drink and sat down too, his penis still hard and pointing at his navel. He smiled uncertainly at his wife "Now what?" and leant across to kiss her, putting his hand on her thigh. She clinked glasses with him and they both took a long pull at the gin. "I need another kiss," she said. "And I need another drink," said Isobel, getting up from her seat by the companionway. "How about you two lovebirds? Do you want another or are you too busy?" "No, get us another," he replied and she came over and took their glasses. "I don't want to miss the show, though." "Well, hurry back, we're hot and thirsty." "Well, a cold shower didn't do much to cool you off. We'll try another cold drink. Maybe that'll help." She giggled as she set the glasses by the hatch, and climbed backwards down the steps. Jim muttered "I doubt it," and she laughed as she disappeared. They heard her banging around in the icebox. He put his hands on both sides of his wife's face and gently pulled it to his lips. Her face was hot and so were her lips. He enjoyed the familiar taste and the scent of her warm sun-soaked body. They savored a lingering kiss. She put her arms around him. "I love this body, and I really want you," Mary said. "We can go below if you like -- we don't have to do it out here." "No, it's too nice out here, and I think I'm too embarrassed to stand up again". She gave him a squeeze. "Come here, then". And she unfastened the towel so it fell back on the cockpit coaming. He moved his mouth down from her lips and kissed her on her neck under the point of her jaw, and then trailed his lips down to her breast, nuzzling and licking. He sucked on her nipple and felt it grow firmer in his mouth, while the other nipple hardened on its own. This connection of the different parts of her body, one to the other, and the chain reactions of excitement that ran through her always excited him, and he could feel his heart beating faster. He knelt on the hard cockpit decking between her legs, her smooth knees on either side of his chest. His tongue glided among the hairs at the base of her belly, and sought the top of her cleft. She moaned softly in the last of the sunlight. "Mmmmm -- that feels good". "Mmmmm," he echoed, "Tastes good too. I love the taste of you." And his tongue wormed its way deeper between her legs. "Oof," she said, opening her eyes and snapping her head forward from where it had been tilted back against the cockpit coaming. "Oooof, yes." As Mary's head came vertical she saw Isobel's face appear again in the companion way, beaded with sweat, mirroring the condensation on the cold drinks she was holding. She set them carefully on the bridge deck separating the cabin from the cockpit. "Drinks", she said looking up at the couple, and then "Oh, God!" and disappeared again. She reappeared almost immediately holding her own drink, settled herself at the top of the companionway, and raised her glass to the woman. Mary stared at her over Jim's head as he rooted between her thighs, but her eyes were glazed, and though looking at Isobel, they were not really registering. She knew Isobel was there, but the sensations her body was feeling overrode the consciousness of her, and she shut her eyes again and lay her head back. Isobel sipped at her gin and tonic, enjoying the cold glass in her hand and slightly fuzzy feeling that her second drink was giving her. The woman's head, after jerking upright, was resting back again and a string of exhalations were blowing from her parted lips. Mary had now grabbed her breasts, and, Isobel could see, was rhythmically squeezing her nipples. The sun shone in her hair like a halo, and seemed to outline her body with fire, while the man worked in the shadow of her breasts and belly. Isobel felt this was all getting a bit much for her and, putting her drink down, slid her ice cool hand under her tee shirt and felt the sharp bite of its cold touch on her own nipple. She pinched it hard, and felt the shot in her groin. Laughing, she said, "This is the best sunset I've ever seen. It's a beautiful sight." The couple both made murmuring sounds but Isobel didn't know whether that was to encourage her to keep quiet, or whether they had gone back into their own world and were murmuring for each other. She took another drink and watched the man pull his head away, and slide his finger along the inside of Mary's thigh. Mary's sex was wet now with a mixture of saliva and her own juices, and Jim's finger slid easily in the silky folds. After a few strokes he pressed the tip of his finger into the spot where the crease disappeared into the hair of her mound and pushed gently upwards. The labia on either side stretched into taut bands and exposed her clitoris. As he brought his lips to the pink flesh, Isobel watched the woman buck her hips slightly, and heard a purring moan escape from deep in her throat. "Jesus", Isobel whispered under her breath, feeling heat in her face, and feeling her heart thudding, as she saw the woman getting more excited. She watched a blotchy redness begin to form above Mary's breasts and spread up to her neck. The man slipped his index finger into the woman's vagina, and Isobel watched it slide in easily up to the knuckle. He pushed a second finger in alongside it, causing the hair-clad lips of her vulva to fold inwards on his fingers as he stretched the opening. Mary's hips worked her pelvis against the pressure of his hand and his fingers inside her canal. The tempo increased and the wife's whole body began to move with the onslaught. Without removing his hand Jim put his face to her groin and added the pressure of his tongue to the probing of his fingers. Mary's head came up and her neck strained so that the ligaments in her neck stood out like pillars. Her lips were drawn back and her teeth were clenched as her hips pounded against Jim's face. The sounds she was making changed from the low throaty contented sounds she had been making before to sharp groans which forced themselves between her gritted teeth. Jim hung on as Mary's climax approached. Suddenly the muscles of her belly spasmed and convulsions shook her body. She bore down on the fingers hooked into her cunt. Isobel watched as the woman's breasts trembled, and her whole body heaved. Mary's body shook uncontrollably for many seconds, her head snapping backwards and forwards, and the boat reverberated to the sharp crack of her hands raining slaps on her man's back. Isobel was thunderstruck by the intensity of it all and realized she had been holding her breath. She felt as if her heart had stopped beating. Isobel did not think she had ever seen anything quite as exciting as the two married lovers setting each other afire like that. She felt her own body responding, a feeling of tense excitement that made her tug at her nipples, and of warmth and congestion that suffused her lower belly. Bareboaters Ch. 01 Jim was feeling some of the same sensations; his breath was coming rapidly, his heart was beating hard but the heat and tension was densely focused in his throbbing penis, which was jerking in time with his pulse. "Come on," said Mary pulling his face to hers and kissing him, tasting herself on his lips. "I want to feel you inside me." "I want you too. I need you." She had moved her hips to the edge of the seat, and from the position he was in he could lay the length of his penis against her sex, the head of it nuzzling in the hair that surrounded the top of her fold. "Come on, inside me." She cupped her hand over his erection, trapping it against her lips, and then pressed the head of it towards her opening. The glans disappeared between the folds that guarded her vulva, and she increased the pressure until suddenly its top two inches snapped easily into her. She kept her fingers splayed on either side of his rod, enjoying the pressure of her own fingers around her vulva as he pushed forward. His pelvis began to roll backwards and forwards, his buttocks tensing and releasing as he steered his cock in her. "Unghhh, unghhh, unghh," came from deep in Mary's throat as the swollen end of his organ separated her internal folds and banged against her cervix, and each stroke pushed her insides up against her diaphragm. Jim's staccato breath caught in his larynx with the effort of each thrust. Drops of sweat dropped from his bowed head onto her rounded belly, in which small waves of motion traveled with the punch of each stroke. Moisture flooded from her vaginal walls as he drove into her, and lubricated their coupling. He could feel the evening air cooling the wetness around the base of his cock each time he withdrew, only for it to be reheated as he pushed back into her. Their bodies merged into each other in the gathering twilight. By now they were unaware of their surroundings, completely absorbed in each other, and in the coupling of their bodies. Her sweating face was shaped into a grimace that spoke only of passion and love and lust, and her eyes locked on to his as if an invisible but palpable beam joined his eyes and hers. Jim felt mounting pressure in his pelvis as his fluids began to surge into his loins. His wife of thirty years was now thrusting hard against him and shouting his name. Her thighs and belly began to tremor with her approaching orgasm. Mary's breasts were riding up and down her chest with each beat of their mating. Her whole body began to convulse with her orgasm, her hands beat on him, and she wailed as her cunt contracted on his cock. "OOOHH, Oooooh, ooooooooh!" she called "I'm coming! I'm coming!" he called back as her spasms sucked the semen from deep inside him. Mary pulled him tightly to her as his buttocks tensed and his body shook, and she felt the pulsations of his orgasm transmitted through her walls to the pit of her stomach. Waves of pleasure and joy engulfed them as her liquids mixed with his creamy sperm, flooding her vagina. They slid gently together as a feeling of peace suffused them and the aftershocks of their climaxes reverberated backwards and forwards between their drenched bodies. They kissed deeply. After a while the cooling night air started to evaporate the sweat from the exposed parts of their bodies and they enjoyed the coolness of it, while between them rivulets of still warm moisture ran in their crevices. A trickle of spent semen began to drip out of her, warm at first but rapidly cooling in the air. She enjoyed the contrasting sensations. He said, "Phew, you're quite a lover." "So are you. I can't wait to start again." "It may take a while," he started to say when there was a crash from forward in the boat, as if something had struck them hard below the water-line. "Shit, what was that?" He jerked out of her with a soft plop, his penis slapping a trail of mingled come along the inside of her thigh. Jim got to his feet as quickly as his stiffening knees would allow, his erection deflating like a punctured tire, and peered into the gathering darkness along the side of the boat. Nothing. But immediately there was a howl from the cabin below, followed by the sound of loud sobbing. " Isobel!" they both yelled at once, heading naked for the companionway. "Oh, shit," cried Isobel, "Oh shit" Isobel was slumped on the floor of the cabin, against the side of the companionway, her hand to her lip, tears streaming down her face, blood running between her fingers and staining her tee-shirt. "Oh, my lip. Shit, ouch, fuck!" and the sobbing started again. "Are you alright?" "No, can't you bloody see I'm not, you stupid cunt." More tears. "Here, let's have a look," Jim said, climbing down the companion way and gently pulling her hand away from her face. She had a split about a third of the way along her upper lip from which blood was pouring. "Press this against it while I get some ice to put on it." He pulled the hem of her tee-shirt up to her lip, it being the only piece of cloth immediately available. It exposed her breast, but it was getting quite dark, and he didn't remark on it. If it had been lighter he would have been able to see that the nipple was congested and the skin around it was reddened. Mary climbed down the companionway and whispered in his ear, her warm breast soft against his back as he bent over the icebox. "She drank all the drinks, you know -- yours, mine, as well as hers. How much has she had for Christ's sake?" "I don't know, but she seems to have lost her bikini bottoms as well." His wife giggled softly, as Isobel continued to wail. Jim wrapped a couple of shards of ice in a tea towel and gave it to Mary, who went back to kneel beside Isobel. Isobel let the woman press the ice pack against her lip and it stemmed the flow of blood. As Jim put the cabin lights on they could see the state Isobel was in. Despite the small size of the cut, the lip had bled heavily, and blood had dripped through Isobel's fingers and run down her forearm. The front of her tee shirt had a wet, dark, bloody stain, and, in trying to wipe away tears as well as blood, she had managed to spread blood over her chin, nose and cheeks. She was quite drunk. "Oh, my lip. It feels really swollen. Is it badly cut?" "No it's just a little split," Mary replied. "The ice feels good. I was having such a good time." "Yes, I know. So were we." "I didn't mean to spoil it but I slipped" "You didn't spoil anything. Are you hurt anywhere else?" "No, I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid. We were all having a lovely time." The tears now began to flow in earnest. Mary sat on the cabin sole next to her and put a consoling arm round her shoulders, while holding the ice to the cut. Isobel leant into her and rested her head on her naked shoulder. Her body heaved with sobs, and a stream of tears ran through the blood on her face. "I was just really getting into it", sobbed Isobel. "You guys had me so turned on and now my head's going round and round. I fell down the ladder." - as if they hadn't worked it out. "I know" "It was so sexy and I was feeling so good." "That's alright. You'll feel better in a minute." "Oh, I won't. I'm going to look terrible." "No you won't. You're beautiful." "Do you think so?" she asked girlishly, as a little ray of hope began to appear through the tears, but her shoulders still shook, and the tears still trickled on to her shirt. "Here lets get you cleaned up a bit." Jim brought a wet cloth from the galley and wiped her face as she looked up at him, smiling through the tears. She limply held out her arms and he cleaned her hands and forearms of blood. "Let's get this shirt off. It's all bloody." Isobel sniffed and held her arms up above her head so that he could pull the bloody tee off. The sobs were dying down now, but every few seconds she would take a wobbly intake of breath and her shoulders would heave. "What happened to your knickers?" "I was so turned on I thought... Well, I couldn't help it." Her left hand strayed down to her crotch. Unlike the pale blondish hair of his wife, Isobel had a vigorous thatch of black hair, which she had trimmed to her bikini line. Finally a giggle appeared between the tears. "I don't have anybody so I have to do it myself. Didn't you see me?" "We didn't see a thing. Didn't see you down the drinks either," he laughed. "I'm really pissed you know. I think I'm pissed out of my mind, and I'm so horny and I can't help it." She started to rub. Her other hand came up and pinched her left nipple, which already looked sore. "Hold me tight," said Isobel. "I've gotta do this. I'm so horny" "I've got you," Mary said, pulling her to her. "I know I'm drunk," she said, as her fingers moved a little faster. "It's hard to get yourself off when you're drunk." Mary really didn't know what to say to that, because it had never been a problem for her. So she said "Don't make yourself sore." She looked up at Jim, whose cock was beginning to stiffen. "Go get the lube" she mouthed. He stumbled back into their berth and in a minute came back with the bottle of Astroglide. By the time he came back Isobel was rubbing her index and middle finger in a circular motion between her legs, intent on what she was doing and breathing hard. Jim looked down at the two of them, at this woman masturbating in the arms of his wife, and found it hard to believe what he was seeing. By this time he was fully erect again and the juices from their earlier lovemaking had dried on his member, making the skin feel taut. He held out the lubricant to them, not really knowing what to do, some sort of moral dilemma rearing in his mind. Mary looked at him and smiled and mouthed "Drunk!" "Isobel," he said, "the lube! Do you want it?" Mary took the cloth from Isobel's lip, which seemed to have stopped bleeding, at least for the moment. She was aware that she was leaking cum out of her vulva and onto the floor, so she put the cloth between her legs. Mary was beginning to feel pretty horny again herself, and she thought maybe the cold cloth would cool her down a bit, but she wasn't prepared for quite how cold it was. Isobel looked up at the husband blearily. "The lube? Of course, lube me!" and giggled and hiccupped. She lent back into the arms of her friend and lifted her legs, presenting herself to Jim. He was stunned but willing, and looked at his wife, who laughed and nodded her head towards Isobel. So much for moral dilemmas. "Go for it, lover," exclaimed Isobel, waving her legs. He laughed too, and put some of the gel on his fingers. He knelt between her legs and she spread the lips of her vulva. Isobel had big inner lips guarding her entrance, and he smeared some lube up and down between them, feeling how warm and how wet she was. He put a drop more on his finger and slid it into her. She immediately dropped her legs, trapping his hand between her and the floor, his finger hooked inside her. "Gotcha, buddy." "God," he thought, "she really is drunk." "Are you sure you're OK, Isobel?" Mary sounded concerned for her, but she could also see that her husband's finger had disappeared inside another woman, and couldn't help feeling a little jealous. Jim was grinning madly "You're very drunk. I don't want you to be sorry." "I won't be sorry. I just wanna get off. Come on guys, help me." She giggled again "I'm really horny" "I know you are. And I don't think you're the only one," said Mary, looking at Jim's penis, which was pointing straight at them. She reached from where she was cuddling Isobel and ran her fingers along the underside of his cock. This was all the encouragement he needed. He began to move his hand, the pad of skin at the base of his flexed finger rubbing against Isobel's clitoris, while the tip of his finger moved inside her. He had only used a little Astroglide, so the amount of warm fluid flowing down his finger and onto his palm was surprising. "You're so wet," he whispered. "Mary, put you hand down here. Feel this." Isobel slid her buttocks forward and opened her legs and guided the woman's finger alongside that of her husband. "See! I'm ready for anything" "Don't get ahead of yourself", said Mary. "Let's not rush things." "I'm not rushing things. I'm just trying to catch up. Oooh, that's good. Keep doing it." The man's finger was now sliding in and out of her, the moisture glistening in the glow of the cabin lights. Mary had not removed her hand, which was now slowly rubbing the top of Isobel's slit. Isobel reached out to the cock that was still pointing at her and touched the end of it where there was a small bead of clear fluid. "You're wet too. Can I lick it off. "No" said Mary, emphatically, "That's mine" "Shit!" said Isobel. "That's not fair!" "Shit." muttered Jim under his breath. "I don't think it is either." Mary laughed. "You keep it away from her." But Isobel said "Come on, you two have gotta do me. You got me like this." "Lie down on the floor, then. We'll take care of you. Won't we?" She looked at Jim. He helped Isobel lift her butt off the decking and pulled her legs out, while Mary supported her shoulders. They gently laid her down, supporting her head so she wouldn't bang it on the floor. Isobel spread-eagled herself on the decking. Mary knelt at her head and stroked her forehead, while Jim knelt beside her thigh, reinserted his finger and, with the other hand, started rubbing her clitoris. Isobel let out a big sigh and brought her hands up to her breasts and stroked them with her fingertips. Jim got the rhythm going with his fingers, running them smoothly up and down her cleft in the copious moisture. Isobel started kneading her tits as if she was making dough. The boat was quiet now, with only the occasional slap of the halyards against the mast, and the ripple of water against the hull in the still of the evening. On the other hand, the woman on the cabin sole was getting noisier. Her breath was beginning to come in whooshing sounds, and then every few seconds she would grunt loudly. Interspersed with her heavy breathing were the remains of her sobs, which occasionally would make her whole body shudder. Mary watched Jim's hands doing to Isobel what they had so often done to her, slowly bringing her to a peak of excitement. They went on in this quiet way for some minutes. But it wasn't enough for Isobel. "You're gonna have to do it harder or I'll never get there!" Mary got up on her knees and leant down the length of Isobel's body. The tea towel dangling from between her legs waved in Isobel's face, but Isobel didn't seem to notice. She reached into the hair between Isobel's legs and slotted her finger into the crease just above her clitoris, and pulled. She knew from her own experience that this would pull the labia into tight bands and force the clitoris out of its hood. Jim took the opportunity to push another finger into her, but with Mary pulling on her it was a tight fit. With his other hand he increased the tempo and really started to work on Isobel's clitoris, rubbing it hard and fast without the finesse he had shown before. Isobel's hips rose to the challenge of their hands, bucking off the floor to meet them, her movement setting the wife in motion on top of her, causing Mary's breasts to slap gently against Isobel's body. Now they were all breathing fast and Isobel's ample buttocks were beating a tattoo on the floor as she fought towards orgasm. And it didn't take long. When Isobel came a lot of things happened at once. Her body went rigid, her back arching her body off the floor against the woman on top of her, while her spasming stomach muscles mashed the other woman's breasts between them. At the same time she changed from kneading her breasts with her palms to pulling hard on her nipples, stretching the dark areolae into painful looking pyramids. She ground her cunt into the man's hand, her vaginal walls clamping fiercely on his penetrating fingers, and her abdomen convulsed with muscle contractions. And she screamed. She screamed a great howl, which flew up the companionway down which she had fallen, and shattered the quiet of the anchorage. As Isobel's orgasm began to die down she locked her arms round the woman's waist and pulled her down so that Mary lay full length on top of her, her fingers still locked in her cleft, and her husband's wedged inside her. Jim gently withdrew his hand, and both husband and wife caressed Isobel's soaking vulva as she came down from her climactic high. For some time their sweating bodies were motionless, except for the small quakes that still shook Isobel. "That was good. I came so big," she murmured in a small slurred voice. Mary rolled off her and lay on the floor on her back, her head next to Isobel's thigh. "Wow! That was an explosion. I've never seen anyone come like that. Are you all right?" "Wonderful, but my heads going round and round." Isobel rolled over and put her head on the woman's stomach. "I feel really woozy, but now I think it's my turn to do you." "Not tonight. We're going to get you into bed." "But I want to. I'm going to screw both of you," she slurred "No you're not. We've all had enough for one night. Come on." They pulled Isobel to her feet, and she giggled and swayed and put her arms round Jim's waist, as Mary grabbed her hips to steady her. She stood unsteadily, her legs widely spaced, leaning against Jim, her arm around him and her head pressed against his chest. With her other hand she caught hold of his erection at the second attempt, after feebly missing it the first time. "I want some of this," she slurred. "I don't think so," said her woman friend. "Not tonight." "Aww, shit. Come on. Gimme some." And she stuck the end of it in her mouth. Mary slapped her hard on her protruding backside, and Isobel yelped, let go of Jim's cock and yelled. "Don't hit me, you bitch! "Well, leave him alone." Isobel started crying. "I feel like shit and it's all because of you." "Come on let's get her into bed." They staggered with her the few feet to the port bunk and pushed on to it. They covered her with a sheet. "Let's do it. Come on. Please." "Let's talk about it tomorrow. You go to sleep." They each bent down and kissed her. "Sleep." The man and the woman went back out to the cockpit to talk. They had a lot to talk about. Later they made married love in the double berth aft. She mounted him without preliminaries and pounded him until she came. She didn't know whether he came or not. In the night they heard Isobel throwing up over the side of the boat. Bareboaters Ch. 02 CHAPTER TWO -- THE NEXT DAY A Jim and Mary Story In Bareboaters, Chapter One, Jim and Mary had taken Isobel with them on a sailing holiday. Mary and Jim had ended up making love on deck after watching a couple on another boat. Isobel had been an interested observer, but had got very inebriated while following the action. After falling down the cabin stairs she had prevailed upon them to help her have an orgasm and had fallen into a drunken sleep. The next morning the boat was a quiet and subdued place. Isobel did not stir from her bunk. Mary was very quiet and pensive and Jim was in shock. Sometimes events take on a life of their own and control passes from the participants to the events themselves. To Jim that was what seemed to have happened the previous night. Not that he felt he had anything to complain about with the way things had turned out. He had enjoyed it. But he certainly hadn't been in control and the evening's escapade was wildly out of character for both for both him and Mary. He wasn't sure about Isobel. There were things in Isobel's volatile personality, occasional fits of bad temper and capacity for excess that were likely to set in motion chains of events over which nobody would have control. So now the big question was what was going to happen to the rest of the vacation. The three of them were trapped with the consequences of their actions in the small circumscribed world of a 35 foot boat. Would he and Mary fall out over what had happened last night? And, more worrying still, would it change their relationship, which after many years of marriage was still getting stronger and stronger? Had a third person entered the sexual part of their marriage, and if so what were they going to do about it? Jim thought that unless they were very careful this could be a very real threat to their happiness. And he didn't want their frolic with a drunk to spoil what he realized more than ever was a powerful and precious bond. Mary wasn't saying much. She had climbed out of their bunk this morning without a word and made some tea. The morning cup of tea was a ritual for them, a few minutes of shared pleasure as they opened their eyes and gathered themselves for the day. On days when they had made love the night before this was an especially warm and close moment. This morning Mary had wordlessly taken her cup and gone and sat on the foredeck. Jim had peered over the coach roof and had seen her sitting there staring at the water with her arms clasped about her knees. Isobel struggled from her bunk. He thought she looked like shit. "I feel like shit," she said. "Is that coffee?" "Tea." "I don't like tea." Jim sighed. "I'll make some coffee." She was a long time in the head, but when she came out she looked better, face washed but pale, and he had the coffee ready. "Thanks." "You've got a hell of a fat lip. You OK?" he asked quietly. "I guess," she said sullenly, and stumped up into the cockpit. "What a fucking mess," Jim muttered to himself, and busied himself getting the boat shipshape. On deck the women sat at opposite ends of the boat and kept out of his way. He got the engine started, pulled up the anchor and headed the boat out of the bay without any help from either of them. He set course for Chatham Bay in the Grenadines. It was their favorite anchorage from previous trips. A broad generous bay, good shelter from the trade winds, rarely more than one or two other boats, no houses and, if you were careful to make sure it was set properly, reasonable holding for the anchor. Mary and he had once made spectacular love under the stars one night in Chatham Bay, out there on the foredeck, where Mary now sat silently with her thoughts. The crossing was quite rough once they were out of the lee of Carriacou and Mary came back to the cockpit and then went below to lie down. Jim could see her lying on the settee reading a book. Isobel didn't stay much longer on deck either and disappeared into her berth, while Jim tended the boat. The trades blow from the east and funnel through the channel between the northern end of Grenada and the south side of Union Island. Jim sat alone at the helm as the boat breasted the big rollers, occasional seas breaking over the foredeck and spattering him with a hail of salty water. The sails were taut, and drumming in the wind. Foaming water sped along the sides of the boat. On any other day this would have been a joyous gallop of a sail, but Jim was overtaken by the glum atmosphere on the boat, and his feelings of helplessness. He honestly didn't know what he could do or say that would restore the carefree pleasures of their sailing holiday. Its character had been decisively changed by the events of the previous evening. In fact, he didn't know if, when the women re-emerged from below, there would even be any more sailing holiday. The chores of navigation, sail trim, and steering kept him busy for some hours, but couldn't entirely prevent his mind from dwelling on their situation. At last, at about four in the afternoon, they glided into the calm waters of Chatham Bay and headed up towards the sheltered anchorage at the north end. Jim furled the fore sail, luffed up into the wind, dropped the main and scrambled to the bow to drop the anchor. He watched for a patch of sandy bottom where he could let it go, avoiding the large patches of grass that covered the bottom of the bay. As the anchor cable payed out he looked around to gauge their position. They were about three hundred yards from the shore; there were no other boats in the bay, and so there was no worry about colliding with another boat if the anchor dragged. In any case, in the shelter of the confining hills, there was little wind and he was not too worried, although it would be nice to swim over the anchor and make sure it was well embedded. He was surprised to find Mary and Isobel sitting in the cockpit together. He dropped onto the opposite cockpit seat and stared at them. They were both smiling broad smiles at him and Isobel was holding out a drink to him. He didn't move. This was not the unpleasant scene he had been conjuring up in his mind all day. He looked at first one and then the other, bewildered, his jaw slack. "Take the fucking drink," said Isobel laughing, and thrusting it towards him. Mary bent over, giggling. Jim ignored the drink. He had a headache from a long day in the hot sun, most of it spent worrying, and he really didn't see what was so funny. They just seemed to be making fun of him. "I'm going to check the anchor," he said, and they both hooted with laughter. "Fuck the two of you," he muttered angrily into his tee shirt as he pulled it over his head. He jammed the goggles and snorkel on and swam out to check the anchor. The water was cool and soothing as he followed the path of the white rope along the bottom to a big patch of sand where the anchor was nicely dug in. He swam back to the stern of the boat. The swim ladder had been pulled up and there was no way back onto the boat. Isobel and Mary were leaning over the stern. He trod water and looked up at them. Mary was in the blue swim suit and was laughing down at him. The suit was unzipped nearly to the navel. Isobel was in a clean tee shirt that looked a lot better than the bloodied one from last night. She was laughing too and still holding out his drink. "You're too grumpy to get on the boat," said Mary. "You've got to cheer up." "I'm not grumpy" he said. "Anyway neither of you have said a word all day, so why should I be the life and soul of the party?" Mary and Isobel looked at each other in mock shock and burst out laughing again. "But we've been talking most of the day. Just because you wouldn't have anything to do with us, doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves" He was puzzled "But after last night?" "Ah, yes," said Mary. "Last night. We talked about that." Isobel sniggered and covered her eyes with her free hand. "I'm sorry about last night." More laughter from the two of them. "Well, shit!" he said, sounding angry, although really his spirits were beginning to lift, buoyed by the infectious good humor coming from the deck above him. "I thought you were both upset." "We were." "Well, then?" "We're women, not men. We talk about stuff, you idiot," said Mary. "So it's all OK?" "No, of course it's not. We need to talk to you." "Well, let me aboard then." "No!" "I'm going to drown out here." "Then we probably don't need to talk to you after all." "Oh, come on. Don't be stupid. What do you want to talk about? "Us." "Oh, shit" he thought. For a man 'us' is a dreaded topic of conversation and Jim was no exception to the rule. "Can't we talk about 'us' when we're alone?" "Not us, you and me, silly. Us. Us. The three of us." "Oh." Jim was confused, but relieved. "OK, but I'm not exactly sure what there is to discuss. What happened, happened." "Well, sweetheart, that's very profound, but I'd hoped we were going to get a bit further than that." "OK, I'll listen." Mary turned to Isobel "That's what men always do, isn't it. They're afraid to really talk about stuff." She turned back to Jim, who was sinking a little lower in the water and feeling his balls retracting into his stomach. "We're going to have a conversation and you are going to participate in it. Not just listen." "Never happened before," thought, Jim thinking back to some of the other one-sided conversations that had peppered their marriage. "Come on, Jim," said Isobel, "We've got things we need to talk about." "Especially if we're not going to ruin the holiday," added Mary "Go ahead." Isobel said, "Listen, I'm really sorry about last night. I got carried away by what was going on and made a fool of myself." "No, really you didn't. I'm just afraid you must think we took advantage of you." "I think I tried to get you to take advantage of me and you wouldn't." Jim was silent. Mary said, "But we won't let it happen again." "Won't let what happen again?" "Not taking advantage of me," interjected Isobel, suddenly. Mary laughed at her choice of words. "I don't know what you two have spent the day talking about, but you'd better explain it to me because I'm getting more and more confused." "Well," said Mary. "Isobel and I decided that we both enjoyed what happened last night, even if we shouldn't have. And I never saw any sign that you didn't enjoy it either. "Well, I did enjoy it. But Isobel was drunk." He looked at Isobel. "Do you even remember what happened?" "I may have been drunk but I remember every minute of it, and I wish we hadn't stopped." "We're on the boat for another four days," said Mary, "and we're grown up and we can't pretend that we didn't all have sex in front of each other." "One way or another," said Jim. "So let's have four days of fun." "When I'm not too pissed to enjoy it," put in Mary. "And then?" "When the charter's over, it's all over." "All over?" "When the charter's over, it's just you and me sweetheart. The funny business will be over for good, but we'll never forget the holiday." Jim turned over on his back and swam away from them. "Are you guys for real?" "Try us," said Mary. Isobel picked up the hem of her tee shirt and pulled it up to her neck, while Mary scooped her breasts out of the front of the blue swimsuit. Jim stared at the four breasts, two big, two small, all shaking as the two women giggled at him. "Can I get back on the boat then? My balls are aching with the cold." "Only if you're going to play," answered Isobel. "By the end of the charter they'll still be aching and it won't be from the cold," laughed Mary. "Come on dear, we'll put the ladder down." Jim climbed the ladder, his soggy swimming shorts cooling any incipient excitement he might have enjoyed. He was disappointed to find that the guard of honor that greeted him as he stepped onto the deck had re-arranged their clothing and had covered up what had so recently been flaunted. But this time he did accept the drink that Isobel offered him. He burst out laughing. "I can't believe this is what you decided," he said to Mary. "I can't either, but I'm not going to stop and think about. If we don't get down to it soon we'll all get cold feet and it won't happen and we'll have a very frustrating vacation." "That's what I'm already having," said Isobel. "Come here, then," said Jim, and held out his arms. Isobel put her arms round his waist and lay her head against his chest. He folded her into him. She felt warm and small and he began to stir inside his wet shorts. Mary stepped behind him and put her arms around them both, feeling to him much bulkier than the short stocky woman clinging to his front. Her cheek was against his shoulder. "Now I'm nervous," she whispered. "Me too," he answered. "I ought to be, but I'm not," said Isobel, and giggled into his chest. She separated herself from the clinch and pulled Mary away from him. "Come on! In the water. Let's get clean for lover boy." She quickly stripped off her shirt and bikini pants and went to the swim ladder. Mary didn't move. "Come on, Mary!" but Mary stood as if stuck in quick sand. "Come on if we're going to do it." Mary allowed Isobel to unzip the blue suit and pull it off her shoulders. Her heavy breasts were freed as Isobel pulled the suit down, over her rounded belly and her womanly hips and let it drop at her feet. Isobel pulled her by the hand towards the ladder. Mary suddenly seemed to come to life again. "OK, I'm coming." But she didn't sound a hundred per cent convinced. "Come on, or I'll smack your butt like you smacked mine last night." "I hoped you'd forgotten." "I'd like to smack both your butts," rejoined Jim. Mary said, "You just try!" "We'll make mincemeat of you," said Isobel. "Women are stronger than men. You're no match for us." Mary was already climbing into the water but he took a swipe at Isobel as she turned to put her feet on the ladder, and gave her a slap on her buttock. "Ouch. That's abuse. You wait. I'll get my own back. Women never forget." Jim watched the two women in the water, their pale forms shimmering beneath the surface as they swam. Isobel swam away from him on her back, her hands lazily massaging her crotch as her legs flexed and straighten in the water carrying her further away from the boat. "Whooooh. Clean. See?" She waved her hand out of the water at him and sniffed her fingers. "Clean and delicious!" Mary was cleaning herself more discreetly, but managed to smile and blow him a kiss. He laughed and blew one back. He was waiting for them with towels as they climbed back on the boat. "Don't need a towel," said Isobel. "I'm wet and I'm going to stay wet." Mary took hers anyway, wiped herself off and wrapped it round her waist, leaving her breasts bared. Jim realized that she always wrapped towels under her armpits, covering herself, and that this was a departure for her, a sign of the new and adventurous Mary. She put her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing against him, soft and warming. "Have fun. I'm going below." "Aren't you....?" His question trailed away to nothing. She kissed him. "No, I'm going below. I think it's better if the two of you........well, you know, get started. I'll come back and see how you're getting on." "But....." "Just do it!" she hissed Mary was gone. Isobel was standing in front of him, short, chunky around the waist and hips, small breasts, legs spread and arms held above her head. She shimmied towards him, eyes crinkling with laughter. "Check me out." She reached for his hand and pulled it to her breast. It was wet and the nipple was hard. She dragged his hand down over her stomach into her thatch which was glinting with beads of salt water. She covered his hand with hers and pressed his fingers against her. They slipped into the hot wet world of her sex. Just like that. He was shocked at the speed with which it happened, the lack of preliminaries, of any sort of build up, of any pretense at a romantic progression from caresses to kisses to fondling. She just jammed his hand in her sex. "You heard what Mary said, Jim, let's do it." She released his hand, pulled his head to hers and gave him a warm and soft kiss on the mouth. "For God's sake, Jim, do me. I'm desperate." Jim moved his hand back down to her mound and gently rubbed the coarse wet curls of hair that covered it. She pushed herself against his hand and his fingers slipped into the groove between her lips. Her vulva was wet and clinging but as his finger tips wormed their way deeper into her he found that the passage that led into her depths was slick and slippery. She put her hand back over his, locking his fingers inside her and backed up until the backs of her knees touched the cockpit bench. She sank on to it. He went down with her, dragged to his knees by the pull on his imprisoned hand. "Now kiss me where I want to be kissed." She lifted her knees and offered herself to him, pulling his head to the damp matt of hair at the join of her thighs. Jim stared at the pelt inches from his face. There was a warm slightly musky smell. She pulled her legs apart. Her pussy opened like a flower, the pigmented lips spreading open to reveal the pink inner flaps which guarded the entrance to her vagina. The opening winked involuntarily at him as she completed the movement. Jim was dumbfounded. He was about to bury his face in another woman's snatch at his wife's request, something unthinkable until 10 minutes ago. Grounds for divorce or even murder last week, and now she was the instigator. What perplexed him really wasn't Isobel's sex winking at him, it was Mary and her change in attitude. He really didn't understand how she squared this with anything that she had ever said before. He looked at Isobel's vulva again. There was a little strand of clear mucus bridging the lips, dragged there by the withdrawal of his finger. He didn't really understand the way women maneuvered through life. There was nothing reliable, constant in their approach to life. Men were men and did things the way they did things. Women changed all the time and men were expected to somehow divine the shifting sands of the rulebook. "For Christ sake, Jim, get on with it." That was Mary's voice. He turned his head and stared at his wife's face, which was peering over the sill of the companionway. She was laughing at him. He was planning to say something to her, when his head was yanked forcibly back into Isobel's crucible of tangled hair and slippery pink lips. Jim very quickly forgot what it was he was going to say and enjoyed the sensations of warmth and wetness that his tongue and lips found in the crease of Isobel's groin. The taste was different to Mary's, more acid and more pungent. Isobel groaned as he worked on her. Her juices flowed copiously and mixed with his saliva, the excess flowing into his beard and into the cleft of her buttocks. "Oh, God. He's good." Jim smiled smugly into her flooding crotch, then heard Mary climbing back up the steps into the cockpit. He sensed her standing behind him, but he was now so absorbed in his exploration of Isobel that he couldn't have stopped if he had wanted to. He felt hands on the sides of his head; Mary's hands. They pulled his face roughly away from Isobel's warmth and wetness and he found himself smearing juices into Mary's face as she kissed him passionately. "Now let's get this done," she said. "I can't stand to watch any more." She stood him up, pulled his shorts down rapidly, not seeming to care that they snagged painfully on his very stiff erection. Mary reached round him and grasped Jim by the root. She forced him to his knees and aimed the red tip of his penis at Isobel's saliva smeared opening. Isobel herself forcefully pulled her lips apart enlarging the size of the target. Mary put a knee to his buttocks and, with her small fist fiercely grasping the base of his penis, drove him into Isobel. Jim watched his cock disappear, heard Isobel gasp, and himself grunt as he was brought up short of full penetration by Mary's encircling fist. Mary let go and went back to kissing him on the mouth. Bareboaters Ch. 02 Jim's cock was now free to bury itself up to the hilt and it did. With help from Mary he established a rhythm, Mary's body pressed against his back, the two of them moving as one as they pistoned his penis into Isobel. Isobel had pulled her knees to her chest and was tightly gripping them as the concussions rocked her. There was nothing gentle, or subtle, or even kind about it. It was an animal pounding, all of them gasping and grunting more or less in unison, all of them pushing hard for the climactic moment, all of them uncaring of the bruising impacts suffered by Isobel as Mary and Jim slammed their combined weight into her. It didn't last long. It couldn't. The end began when Isobel shrieked, her reddened and contorted face issuing the same howl that had rent the anchorage the night before. Her convulsing body shook on the end of Jim's pounding penis and Jim would probably have stopped the drilling if it hadn't been for Mary, who pushed the pace relentlessly, forcing Jim's penis to continue it's onslaught on Isobel's spasming tunnel. "Go on! Go on! Harder!" urged Mary. Jim had now lost all any semblance of control and was now simply an instrument of Mary's forcible thrusting, his bursting penis forcing it's way along Isobel's clinging walls, the motion and the intense force determined by Mary. Finally Jim knew it was over. "Oh, Christ! I'm coming!" Mary slammed him one last time into Isobel and held him there as his deeply buried organ spewed against the nub of Isobel's cervix. All three of them, the two women and the man, shook reflexively in the aftermath of the orgasms. Aftershocks from Isobel clutched at the soaking member inside her, Jim shook from the sudden release, and Mary suffered her own paroxysmic seizures in her lower belly. The three of them held on to each other for dear life, glued together by passion, sweat and semen. It was a while before anybody in the huddled tableau moved. Eventually Mary peeled herself from Jim's sweat soaked back. "Now we can really start our vacation," said Mary. Jim laughed. Isobel was silent. Bareboaters Ch. 03 Chapter Three: The Nightwatch A Jim and Mary Story Isobel relives a strange encounter with Jim and Isobel and wonders what the future holds. As the sun came up over Union Island its rays passed right over the white sailboat that lay at anchor in Chatham Bay, shaded from the sunrise by the surrounding hills. Further out to sea the morning sun brightened the gentle waves to an azure brilliance and illuminated the banks of clouds on the horizon until they were a dazzling white. But the boat lay quietly in the still, cool, early morning waters of the bay. If you climbed quietly aboard the boat on to the dew wet deck nobody would greet you. You could listen for signs of life but all you would hear would be the gentle slap of water against the hull, the occasional clink of a halyard against the mast and the creak of the anchor cable where it turned over the bow roller and disappeared into the depths. An inspection of the deck would show the sails neatly furled and the rigging secured, lines neatly coiled and hanked off. The cockpit however did not show the same signs of care and attention. An empty bottle lay in the scuppers and dirty glasses were scattered here and there. A pair of shorts, a blue swimsuit and a tee shirt lay in damp disarray among displaced seat cushions. If you peered inside the boat, through the hatchway into the cool gloom of the cabin, the appearance of disorder persisted. A makeshift bed of cushions laid out over the settees and table was occupied by three naked bodies, two women and a man. The smaller woman was stirring, reaching out a hand and touching the flank of the other woman next to her, and then, as if surprised, sitting up. She rubbed her eyes and surveyed the two bodies for a long time. Her short hair was disheveled and spiky and she scratched her scalp while she looked at them. After a while she reached for her groin and tentatively ran her fingers through the black patch of hair. The curly mass was uncomfortably stiff and matted, and she wiped her fingers on a cushion with a degree of distaste. Isobel scrambled off the makeshift platform, found a crumpled shirt on the floor and put it on. She heated some water for coffee and went to the head to clean up. "Now, let's see what you look like." She examined her lip in the mirror, and was satisfied to see that, although still swollen, the cut had scabbed over nicely. She wasn't too pleased with the rest of her appearance though; hair a mess, stiff with salt from the sea, bags under her eyes, and a patch of peeling skin on her nose. In fact her skin had a coarse feel to it from too much sun, salt water exposure, and a couple of frankly bruising days on the boat, both literally and metaphorically. "Pretty fucking awful!" Drink was part of it, and she had made a fool of herself by falling down the companionway steps two nights ago. But the last couple of days had been emotionally draining as well. There had been sex, true; and she had wanted that, but she couldn't say it had been exactly the way she wanted it. Despite the intimacies of the last thirty six hours she didn't know if Jim and Mary were just screwing with her, or whether they wanted to make some deeper connection with her. She took her coffee up on deck and sat among the debris in the cockpit. She cupped her hands around the mug, and inhaled the steam from the brew. It began to work its restorative magic on her as she sipped, clearing her head of the fuzzy ache of a hangover and sharpening her grasp of the world around her. The bay really was beautiful, cool and still at this hour of the morning, with barely a ripple disturbing the surface. There was a sharpness to the air which the morning's heat would soon dissipate. The occasional clatter of birds arranging themselves in the trees on the distant shore carried clearly across the water. She thought the beauty and order of nature contrasted sharply with the mess on the boat, with the untidy litter of an evening of debauchery and the even more untidy confusion of emotions that had accompanied it. She had wanted to make love with Jim and Mary, desperately wanted a release from the tensions that had begun to swirl through the boat like fog. Henry had been supposed to come on this trip with her, but when he had cried off she had felt obliged to keep her commitment to the other couple. She had thought it might be awkward, the three of them on the boat, and she was acutely aware of the maxim that two's company, three's a crowd. Jim and Mary were physically affectionate with each other and although they had been as discreet as it's possible to be on a small boat, there really was no privacy. Privacy on a boat consisted only of deliberately not looking or listening. Isobel hadn't looked, or at least hadn't stared, when the other two had cuddled in the cockpit. But at night she had listened. She supposed they had tried not to make too much noise, but in the confined space they couldn't keep it to themselves, and she had become accustomed to hearing the rhythm of their love making, the rising intensity of the sounds, the grunting, and finally the stifled gasps of orgasm. These were always accompanied by banging noises and slapping sounds, which she assumed were caused by Mary's flailing arms, though it was hard to know. Every night Isobel lay in her bunk and matched them orgasm for orgasm, skillfully bringing herself to a peak with her fingers, and often climaxed at exactly the same time as Mary in a sort of bifurcated sisterhood. A few nights ago (before the Tyrrell Bay episode) her desperation had led to a strange experience. She had fallen asleep on the bunk in the main cabin, instead of in her usual den in the v-berth at the bow of the boat. She had been the worse for drink and had dozed off while Jim and Mary where playing cards at the cabin table. She was woken some time later by a sound that penetrated her stupor, the sharp cry of a sea bird perhaps, but very close. The sudden start of awakening had set her heart racing and she had sat up quickly, making her head pound. Before she could even consciously wonder what the sound was it came again and she realized it was not an animal sound, but a human one. The cabin was not quite dark, but was lit by squares of moon glow that slanted in through the side windows. The door of the empty rear cabin was open, as was the companionway hatch. The sound came again, and it came from overhead, through an open hatch. She sat and listened. It was Mary's cry and it had the characteristic resonance of her arousal, the rhythm of each caught breath launching a sound deep in Mary's throat. Isobel was surprised that such a sound could be so languid and so urgent at the same time. It contrasted with the sound she knew that she herself made while in the throes of passion. Henry had once made a home movie of them making love in his apartment and she had been stunned to realize that her own cries of arousal consisted almost entirely of a string of expletives. As she sat in the gloom of the cabin Isobel listened to the now familiar sound of Mary's mounting pleasure, a sound that had tormented her for every night of the sailing holiday. It was not that she was just jealous of Mary's pleasure; it had more to do with a sense of loss for herself, of missed opportunity, of the fact that even with her steady relationship with Henry something was missing in her life. The physical need was not the whole story of her envy; she missed that connection with another person that Mary's nightly satisfaction seemed to represent. She had no idea whether Jim was a good lover or not, but the constancy of his affection for Mary, represented for Isobel by the nightly fuck, was something she knew she had never experienced from anybody. For all she knew, Jim and Mary might not be able to stand each other in their daily lives and were just making the best of it while on vacation. Maybe they were even using the nightly love session to try and rekindle something they had lost. But, whatever the all too predictable nightly screw meant to Jim and Mary, to Isobel it was a reminder of what she didn't have. Mary continued to give voice, now a little louder, either forgetting that another set of ears was present on the boat, or no longer caring. Isobel felt a tightening in her lower abdomen, not excitement so much as a tension that left unattended would grow into a consuming and grating ache. She slipped her fingers down into her bush of hair and hooked her index finger into the opening of her vagina. It was moist and sticky, not yet flooding with the sap of arousal, but the pressure of her finger felt reassuring and calming. She felt the need to be closer to the sounds, not just through some voyeuristic instinct but through a feeling that by getting closer to her surrogate she could steal, or at least borrow, some of the intimacy Mary was experiencing. She crept through the dim cabin, hardly daring to breath and stopped in the small space at the foot of the forward berth. She looked up to the open hatch and its empty square of moonlight and listened. At first she heard nothing but the sounds of the water and the musical night sounds of the boat. Then she picked out a moan or a groan, she couldn't tell which, and then the sound of Mary's voice, quiet but urgent. "Ohh, yes. Like that. Ohh, that's beautiful." More silence. "Ooh, yes. Keep doing it." "Ohhh." After a while. "Mmm. That feels good." Then no more sounds for a minute, then a moan. Isobel fingered herself, and wished she could see. This was so unsatisfactory. She was so close to them, almost within touching distance. She felt if she could actually see them she would know what she should be feeling, using the picture to channel what Mary was feeling into the liberation of her own tensions. But to feel it she needed to actually see them. Dare she risk a peek through the hatch? Listening to them in their cabin because she couldn't help it was one thing, but spying on them was quite another. Perhaps if she moved very slowly and quietly they would not know she was there. If there was a danger of being seen she could quietly withdraw with no-one being any the wiser. Her scruples about appropriate behavior didn't last long. Carefully she put her knees up on the bunk and, bracing her arms, climbed slowly to her feet. Holding her breath she moved her head ever so slowly into the hatch opening. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest as she gauged the risk of being seen. For a while she could move no further, paralyzed with the fear of discovery. But nothing happened, so she moved her head upwards until she could see over the rim of the hatch. She was relieved to see the crown of Mary's head just forward of the hatch, level with her eyes. Mary was lying on her back. Jim was kneeling between her knees and his head was buried beyond the turn of Mary's belly. She could hear Jim's gasping breaths as he rooted between Mary's thighs and Isobel could see Mary's breasts heaving on her ribcage. She ducked down below the sill again and sat on the edge of the berth, breathless with excitement. Her fingers teased and caressed her pussy and she began to feel the warm stirrings of her lubricating womb. She could just hear Mary breathing and moaning above the sound of her own rasping breath. She lay back on the bunk, her legs bent at the knees and widely spread. Her finger slid smoothly in the gathering moisture of her opening and she moved the slick wetness on to her clitoris with her finger tip. Pleasure began to suffuse her as she rubbed herself lightly and listened to the sounds from overhead. After a while she heard a scrabbling on the deck and some grunts. Should she have just one more look? Why not? Nothing happened last time. She stood up again, this time aware of the growing wetness between her legs. She poked her head through the hatch. "Oh, shit!" She was looking straight into Jim's eyes. He was braced on his arms above Mary, who was still lying in the same spot. His head bobbed backwards and forwards inches from Isobel's face and she could feel his warm breath. "Fuck!" breathed Jim, looking stunned. He stopped moving. "What?" said Mary. "Nothing." "Don't stop! I'm getting there." He started again. "I want you," hissed Jim, and he stared into Isobel's eyes. "Shhhh," said Mary "She'll hear." "I don't care." "Come on, come on! Now, now!" Isobel watched Jim respond to Mary's urging. His head bobbed faster and she could see along his flanks to the rise and fall of his buttocks. His breath came faster and its gusts caressed Isobel's face in recurring waves. "Come on, Jimmy, I'm coming!" Mary's body started to shake and noises caught in her throat. It was too much for Isobel. She dropped back through the hatch, her own orgasm not far off. She could hardly breathe and her thighs trembled and she was close to coming. Above her head there were more groans and she could hear Mary thrashing on the deck. Isobel decided on one last look. Jim already knew she was there and so she felt she had nothing to lose, even if he saw her again. One last look and she could finish herself off. She hoisted herself on her trembling legs and raised her head like a periscope. She could see his head again. But..... "Oh, my God!" It wasn't Jim. This time it was Mary on her hands and knees staring at her. Mary's face was contorted into a grimace that looked like pain, but Isobel knew wasn't pain at all. She couldn't see Jim but could hear the dull slap of his thighs as he ploughed Mary from behind. Mary's body shook from the transmitted shocks. Her breasts swung rhythmically beneath her and whimpering groans escaped from behind her gritted teeth. Mary's hands closed over Isobel's where she had caught hold of the hatch coaming to pull herself up. Her clasp was fierce and her grip transmitted the power of her continuing orgasms to Isobel. "Oh, Fuck! Oh, Shit!" muttered Isobel, her own orgasm close, but the physical tension of suspending herself in the hatch prevented her from reaching it. And the clutch of Mary's fingers stopped her from using her own fingers to bring herself off. She heard Jim's voice from the dark behind Mary. "I'm coming. Oh, I'm coming." The rhythmic thudding together of Jim and Mary's bodies stopped, to be superseded by a few forceful heaves from Jim as he filled Mary. Mary's head had slumped between her arms, but she raised it up one last time, stared at Isobel and then sagged to the deck again loosing her grip on Isobel's hands. Isobel was released to fall back into the dark of the v-berth, where she rolled herself into a ball and squeezed her hands between her thighs. Her fingers slid into the wet crevice of her sex and laid siege to her clitoris. It didn't take long. Deep down Isobel felt the contractions in her own belly and the flood of her own orgasm. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Over and over again she said it until at last the orgasm released its grip on her. As she sat in the cockpit nursing her cup of coffee Isobel thought back to that night and what she found so disturbing about it. The next day neither Jim nor Mary gave any sign that they had seen her nor that she had been a participant in their lovemaking, whether they liked it or not. She didn't even know if they had talked about it between themselves. In fact, she didn't know if either of them knew that the other had seen her. It had been a shared erotic moment that had then been disowned, leaving her none the wiser about the nature of their relationship. Did Jim really want her, as he had said in the middle of riding his wife, or was that remark meant for Mary? And then there was the bizarre piece of exhibitionism on Mary's part in Tyrrell Bay which led to a sort of orgy, but which for Isobel was ultimately unsatisfying, because Mary wouldn't let Jim screw her. And yesterday there was the awful atmosphere on the boat as if some dark secret was hidden in the bilges. Then there was Mary's sudden change of tune. It was certainly a surprise to Jim when Mary encouraged him to screw Isobel after he climbed back on the boat. And lastly when the act did take place it was so crude that she felt that Mary was using Jim's cock to rape her. Last night they had all ended up sleeping together below decks. At that point there didn't seem to be any point in not sharing a bed, uncomfortable as it was, but Isobel's wish that there be some definition of the relationship between the three of them hadn't taken place. And anyway, she didn't know what she wanted herself. There were now three more days left in the vacation, and to Isobel one big question to be answered. "Do they really want me in their lives, or am I just a toy to spice up their frigging vacation?" Bareboaters Ch. 04 Chapter Four: On The Beach A Jim and Mary Story Jim and Mary have taken Isobel on a sailing vacation with them, and the three of them are now sharing a makeshift bunk in the cabin of their charter boat. Isobel likes the sex but is afraid she is being used. Mary came up from the sailboat's cabin and found Isobel sitting in the cockpit nursing a cup of coffee and staring out to sea. She turned on a smile. "Good morning, Isobel." She couldn't think of a better conversational opener for the woman with whom she and her husband had spent the night having sex. Isobel's reply was brief and distant. "I made coffee." "Oh, lovely. But I think I'll make Jim some tea." "Please yourself, but the coffee's still hot." Mary hesitated then put her hand on Isobel's shoulder. "Last night was good. For us, I mean. We liked it." Isobel kept her eyes on the horizon. "Well ..." In light of Isobel's lack of response Mary didn't see a way to pursue the conversation. Isobel's occasional fits of bad temper could be unpleasant but were something that Mary could deal with, but her sullen moods were something much more difficult. She hoped it wasn't going to be another day of sulks. She went below and busied herself in the galley, while Jim watched her from the makeshift bed that the three of them had shared. He had woken even before Isobel and had watched her get up and make coffee for herself. He hadn't moved. He had been enjoying the sensation of lying stuck to his wife's back by sweat and spent fluids from the night before. His morning glory had been nestled between Mary's buttocks as he ran over in his mind the excitements and the passions of the day before and the night the three of them had shared in the sweaty confines of the cabin. The tryst with Mary and Isobel had stirred sensations he didn't know he could have. It was like awakening a teenage monster in a half-century old body. He had never been with two women before and the sensations he had experienced had overwhelmed him. He had never had the intensity of feeling in his skin and the powerful sense of his own vigor that he had experienced with their shared bodies. It was still exciting to think about, and although Mary had left the bed, leaving him to cool in the morning air, his erection still pulsed hot against his stomach. He watched Mary as she made the tea. He had a hard time reconciling the woman he had married all those years ago with the woman whose body he had shared with Isobel. It was a side of Mary he hadn't even imagined. He had, of course, imagined threesomes. What man hadn't? But if ever such a thing had been mentioned between them it had certainly never been pursued. Mary climbed back on the bunk with two cups of tea. "Hello, lover." They pursed their lips and kissed. She flicked his prick with her fingers. "You're pretty sporty this morning." "You were pretty sporty last night." "We all were." She snuggled up to him. "Did you have fun?" "You bet. You?" "Mmmm. Though I wonder if it was a good idea." "I know. I thought about that too. Where's Isobel?" "On deck." "Is she OK?" "I don't know. I think she's in a funk." "Why?" "You know what she's like." "Well, you know it's gone so far we can't change it, can we? Do you think we should pretend nothing happened?" "No, not really. It was exciting, but..." "I know. Yesterday was a blast for me but I don't want to wreck the holiday or our relationship." "Yes," said Mary. "I know I kind of started it so it's partly my fault, but sometimes I get really jealous sharing you with her. Don't you ever dare do her when I'm not there, will you?" "No, of course not. But we can stop it right now if you want. All we've got to do is tell Isobel." Mary laughed. "Umm, no -- I don't want to stop right now. It's too exciting, but I sure am looking forward to having you to myself." "Well, we agreed we'd have fun so let's do it, and then when the holiday's over, that's it. It's over." There weren't that many days of their sailing vacation left anyway. They would enjoy today in the quiet of Chatham Bay. Tomorrow they would have to leave for Bequia where they would celebrate Mary's birthday with a slap-up meal ashore. The following day they would make a final dash across the channel between the islands and return the boat to the charter company on St. Vincent. "I hope we'll always have fun whether we're on holiday or not." He reached out and gently massaged her breast through the fabric of her night shirt. She pushed his hand away. "Don't be an ass -- it's too early." She laughed at him. He stroked his cock quietly. "Well then I think I'll try Isobel." He grinned at her. Mary shook her head. "I wouldn't. I don't think she's in the mood." "We'll see about that." Jim climbed off the bunk and headed for the cockpit. "Good morning Isobel." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his naked body, his cock snagging in a fold of her tee-shirt. "Shit, Jim. Get off me." She shrugged herself loose. "It's too early." Jim laughed. "That's what Mary said." "No, I mean it. Piss off and leave me alone." Jim's penis began its droop towards the deck and Isobel sipped her coffee in silence. "Are you mad at me?" asked Jim "No -- Yes! I don't know!" "Isobel, that's three different answers." "I know, but..." "Do you want to pick one?" "What do you mean?" "Yes, no or don't know." "Well it's just that you and Mary..." she stopped. "Me and Mary what?" he asked gently. "Don't care. I don't think you really care. Do you really care? I mean, about me?" "Yes, of course we do." "Well, I don't know. I mean I loved the sex, but I think you just wanted somebody to play with and..." "You mean we took advantage of you?" Isobel didn't reply. Jim reached for her hand. "I thought that was what you wanted, too." "Yes, it was, but..." "We can stop. Pretend it never happened." "No, I want it. I mean, we're cooped up on this fucking boat, and I don't want to be left out. And now we've started..." her voice trailed off. "Now we've started?" he prompted. It came out in a rush. "Now we've started I want more. When we made love last night I realized that I was as happy as I've ever been. Let's not let it end. Maybe when we get back you and I..." "No, I don't think that's going to work." "I know, I know. I won't screw it up, you know, but I just wish..." "Look -- let's just enjoy ourselves and not worry about what comes after." Later in the morning they took the dinghy around the headland at the end of the bay and found a small beach. Mary cut the motor and the dinghy grounded at the water's edge. The three of them jumped ashore and Jim pulled the boat on to the sand. The little beach was about 20 yards from end to end, backed by a cliff and protected at one end by a rocky outcrop. The dark volcanic sand caressed their feet as they waded in the shallows. The water was cool and inviting and a small breeze off the sea provided them with occasional respite from the heat trapped in the little cove. The mood on the boat had lightened at the thought of a trip across the bay, a cooling dip in the ocean, and a chance to stretch their legs on dry land. Boats are fine places when romping through the rollers on a warm windy day but at anchor they can become a crucible of trapped heat and frayed nerves, and the thought of escaping for a few hours had been very attractive. By the time they had got into the dinghy they were laughing and joking. Isobel had all of a sudden pulled herself out of her funk and developed a mood of high good humor and become very energetic. She had packed the fixings for a picnic lunch, prepared the sandwiches and found a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc buried deep in the boat's icebox. Jim and Mary sat in the shallows at the water's edge watching the sand particles ebb and flow around their legs. Jim turned round. "Hey, Isobel!" "What?" "Come here and cool off." "I'm OK." Isobel was sitting cross-legged on the sand further up the little beach in shorts and a tank top, sweat beading on her forehead and plastering her short hair to her scalp. The tank top had a sweat soaked streak where it clung to her belly. She was drawing in the fine sand with her finger. "Come on, you're burning up. You're in a muck sweat." Isobel wiped beads of perspiration from her crimson face. "I'm fine." "Why don't you come and get in the water?" "I can't." "What do you mean, you can't." She shook her head. "I can't!" Mary said, "You're dying of heat." "I'll get my shorts wet." Jim and Mary laughed in exasperation and both said at once, "Then take them off!" "I don't have anything underneath. I was so busy with the sandwiches I forgot to put my bikini bottoms on." "So?" said Mary "If I get my shorts wet they'll get salty. They'll never dry." "Doesn't matter." "I'll get a rash." "If you get a rash we'll rub some lotion in it for you," said Jim. "So take them off!" Mary was laughing. "We? We'll rub it in?"" "Well, I will!" Isobel screwed her eyes up. "Well, screw it. OK! Look the other way." "We've already seen," said Jim, adding playfully, "unless you've got something new to show." This time it was Isobel's turn to laugh. "I might!" "Let's have a look then," said Jim. Isobel stood up, slapped sand from her shorts and delivered an ungainly curtsy. "Show us what you've got, Isobel," commanded Jim. Isobel lifted her top up and flashed her tits very quickly, giving them a glimpse of breast and sweaty stomach. "Same as yesterday," said Jim to Mary. "Did you like them?" asked Mary "I did yesterday, but I like big ones too." He stroked the front of her bathing suit. "Mine aren't big. Don't be rude." "Well they're bigger than mine, and bigger than Isobel's," laughed Jim. Isobel put her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and started to wriggle them down. "If you liked that, then I have something else to show you," she said. But Mary wasn't looking. She was leaning towards Jim. "Do you want to peek?" Mary's fingers were daintily holding the zipper tab on the front of her blue one-piece suit. "Guys!" expostulated Isobel. "I'm waiting." Mary pulled her zipper down, exposing cleavage, a dark deep cleft between her tits. Jim reached over and pulled the fabric aside exposing a large breast with a diagonal tan line. Below the tan line the skin was creamy white accentuating the rich color of the nipple. Jim reached for the irresistible little nub of brown flesh. Before he could get his fingers on it a shadow fell on him. Isobel was stamping in the water by his legs. "For fuck's sake! Stop messing with me! What's the matter with you two? I was waiting for you to watch." Isobel had dropped her shorts and the thick wedge of hair at the base of her little round belly was inches from his nose. Even in the salty sea air he could smell her musky smell and feel the heat radiating from her. Not for the first time Jim was bemused by the sudden embarrassment of riches -- his wife's bared breast on the one hand and Isobel's pungent charms on the other. "Now what are you going to do, Jimmy?" asked Mary. "I bet you don't know what to do, do you?" Mary was laughing at him. Jim hesitated, and in that moment she threw herself on him. He found himself on the receiving end of a full body press as Mary squirmed herself over him and mashed her breast into his face. In moments he had found her nipple and he sucked it, and as much surrounding breast as he could, into his mouth. At the same time he felt hands grabbing the waist band of his shorts. They were pulled roughly off his pinned body, snagging momentarily on his heel. A wet sandy hand grabbed his penis and tugged at the soft tissue. He felt it being flapped backwards and forwards. He heard Isobel's voice. "Look at the poor little thing! Oh, God, I hope it's not broken." "Give it some time," laughed Mary. "I think we may have overworked it last night." "Well, I'll see if I can fix it." Jim loved being smothered by Mary's copious tit, but was in danger of suffocating in it. On the other hand a lack of air didn't seem to be preventing his cock from inflating in response to Isobel's grasp. Maybe the congestion in his head and the asphyxial ringing in his ears were having a positive effect on his blood pressure. He had heard of people that got off on asphyxiation, but some of them died in the attempt, and he didn't want it to happen to him. He heaved Mary off him and surveyed the scene. Isobel was holding the base of his cock and swinging it round in circles. It wasn't quite hard and it reminded Jim of a wilted stick of celery as she flailed it around. He wished Isobel would treat it with more respect, but he couldn't fault her single-minded absorption with it. Mary was getting to her feet and had already pulled the blue suit off her shoulders. She wriggled her bottom and worked the suit down over her thighs. She kicked the crumpled bathing suit up the beach and came back and stood over Jim. "Jim, this is for you. You can stop watching Isobel for a minute." She knelt over his face. The sun was blotted out by the pale bulge of Mary's belly and the smooth turn of her thighs. She lowered her crotch onto his face. A little shower of sand cascaded onto his lips to be followed by her pink crevice and its fleshy lips. Mary's warm pussy descended on him, gritty with grains of sand, and he licked at her with a will. She ground her salty cleft into his mouth and he tasted her familiar sweet sap on his tongue. He played with the hood over her clitoris and occasionally allowed his tongue to stray into the maw of her cunt. Right now the only thing he could see was the tuft of hair that his nose was buried in, a nice stretch of white belly, the underside of two large breasts and a stretch of sky. Things were happening out of his sight too. The hand on his cock had stopped waving it around and was now pumping leisurely at it, a not entirely comfortable feeling as Isobel had trapped some sand in her fist. She was stimulating him and excoriating his skin at the same time. Pain and pleasure. But soon the pumping stopped and a warm wet mouth engulfed the head and slid down the shaft. He felt Isobel's mouth vacuum the sand off him. She spat a couple of times and then resumed the task of sucking blood into his growing organ. She had soon transformed it from a stick of wilting celery into something more like an angry carrot. He heard her say "That's better. That's what I want." She held him at the root and climbed on to him, guiding his stiffened cock into her pussy. Jim was surprised at how easily he slipped into her and was also taken aback by the fierce heat that surrounded his penis. He also couldn't believe she was so heavy, but it didn't matter. After all he now had two women pinning him to the beach and they were so strategically placed, one on his hips and one on his head, that he couldn't think of moving anyway. Neither did he want to. While Mary ground into his face, Isobel started riding him at a slow canter. That was an interesting sensation because despite the slickness of her passage, the occasional grain of sand would scrape against his cock skin as she slid up and down. But pretty soon she was so wet that any remaining traces of the beach were flushed out and the ride became deliciously smooth. As Isobel got into her rhythm, Mary was working her now soaking gash over his face. Her secretions leaked into his mouth, so that every so often he had to swallow. Mary tasted as good as ever, and though it was sometimes hard to breathe, Jim was enjoying the simple pleasure of eating out his wife while an invisible woman rode his cock. Only she wasn't entirely invisible. Isobel's hands had found their way round to Mary's breasts, and she clutched them to steady herself as she slid up and down his penis. Jim, prostrate beneath his two companions, watched Isobel's small hands knead Mary's breasts and then begin to squeeze and pinch her nipples. He didn't think Mary would last long. She seemed to have a direct connection between her nipples and her clitoris, as if the stimulation of them released some sort of electrical charge, which set her clitoris tingling and soon pushed her over the brink. "Oooof," said Mary as the convulsions began to overtake her. Jim watched Mary's hands grab Isobel's and squash them even more tightly to her breasts. Her stomach heaved and rippled. She pressed herself ever harder into Jim's mouth. He licked and sucked and swallowed and slathered his tongue up and down her, at least as far as he could move, which wasn't very far. Mary's whole body shook and she cried, "No, No! Oh, God, Stop!" Orgasms ripped through her, but still she pressed down on his face. "Stop, stop!" Jim couldn't, of course. She was the only one who could stop it and in the end she toppled off him onto the sand. "Too much! That was too much." She left him to Isobel. Isobel put her hands on his shoulders and peered into his soaked face as she bounced up and down on his engorged prick. "Come on, Jim. Let's get going." Jim, catching his breath after his release from Mary's saturating siege, couldn't answer beyond a simple groan. Isobel flew up and down his shaft. To Jim it was a wonder that she managed to keep him inside her, judging her strokes to a fraction of an inch, stopping her upstroke within a hair's breadth of him falling out and then plummeting down again to crash her clitoris against his pubic bone. He felt his buttocks being driven deeper into the sand. Mary, her body now dredged with sand, rolled over on her stomach and peered into his sweaty face. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply. Even while her tongue explored his mouth and he tasted the sweetness of her saliva he could feel the eruption swelling in him. Jim passed the point of no return. He moaned into her mouth as the ejaculation began to roar in his pipes. Isobel slowed her ride up and down his cock. Her insides clenched its spurting head, sucking hungrily at him. While he sprayed sperm deep inside Isobel, his wife clamped her mouth over his in a fierce and aggressive expression of possession. Mary pulled her mouth away. "Next time," she said to Isobel, "he's all mine!" Isobel didn't answer but climbed shakily off Jim's still stiff cock. She left a snail trail of cum on his belly which Mary wiped away with a sandy hand. Isobel brought the picnic from the boat. They spread beach towels next to each other and laid the food out. Jim was relaxed -- he enjoyed the wine, and the feeling of Mary rubbing sunscreen into his sun-scorched skin. He couldn't help noticing that Mary was very possessive, in a way that she hadn't been last night or even yesterday. She fed him morsels of food as if he was a chick in her nest. Isobel sat by them, but just far enough away that her position seemed to acknowledge Mary's rights to him. That was all right with Jim. The sun was beginning to get to him anyway, and the sex already had. His eyelids became heavy and began to droop and a post-fuck nap overtook him. He was awakened by the sound of an anchor chain running out. Mary and Isobel were sitting at the water's edge watching another boat anchoring in the bay. It was a ketch with a green hull and wooden masts and a deckhouse on which the varnished bright work glimmered in the sun. "Bummer," said Jim. "I thought we had the place to ourselves." Mary said "Why are you so grumpy? There's plenty of room in the bay. Anyway I thought you'd be glad of some company. I expect you're pretty fed up with having just us two women to ..." "...keep him out of mischief," interrupted Isobel. Bareboaters Ch. 04 "Exactly - keep him out of mischief." "Maybe there'll be someone to take you both off my hands," said Jim. "Well, really! I thought you liked having me and Isobel all to yourself?" "Oh, I do -- I'm just a bit worn out." Jim laughed "Maybe I can get some help?" "Very funny," said Mary. She dug her finger into his ribs. "What do you need help with, eh?" "The chores," said Jim. "So now we're a chore, are we? Are you're sure your heart's in this vacation?" "Well, if anyone offers him help, I'm not going to refuse," said Isobel. Jim laughed. "Neither am I." "I wonder who's on the boat?" "There's a guy on the bow dropping the anchor, but I can't see anyone else." "Maybe he's single handed," said Isobel wistfully. "I could do with a single-hander!" "You haven't had a single hander for days, Isobel. You've had Jim's hands and my hands." "Yes, but wouldn't it be lovely if I could have both hands of a single-hander all to myself." "Maybe if you did I could get my husband back for a while." "Ouch," said Isobel. "I'm sorry. I thought you were OK with it." Mary laughed. "Oh, I am really. Sometimes it just takes a bit of getting used to." She leaned over and kissed Isobel on her sandy cheek. "Don't worry," said Mary. "I'm OK, but let's go and see if we can find a bit of company. Things have been getting a bit intense for me around here and it's time we found someone else to talk to." They loaded up the little dinghy and puttered back around the headland towards the new arrival. "It's such a beautiful boat," said Mary. "Look at all the bright work. I'd hate to have to keep up with the varnishing, though." When they rounded the stern of the ketch Isobel burst out laughing. "Oh God! It's called Coq D'Or -- that's exactly what I need. Actually it doesn't even have to be a gold one." "Ahoy, Coq D'Or!" shouted Jim. "Anyone aboard?" A tall skinny man, deeply tanned, in a pair of tattered shorts appeared on deck. "Hi, there! Are you from the other boat?" He jerked his head towards the charter boat. "That's us! Welcome to Chatham Bay. You've got a beautiful boat. Where did you come from?" "Thank you. We've come straight down from St. Lucia." "That's a long way. I'm Jim and this is Mary and this is Isobel. Why don't you come over for a drink this afternoon." "I'm Jack. We'd love to. What time? "Oh, early. Around three would be fine." "We'll bring snacks. Pat will be glad of someone else to talk to beside me." "Three o'clock then." "Shit," said Isobel under her breath. "I was hoping he'd be single." "So was I," muttered Mary. Bareboaters Ch. 05 Bareboaters: The Cocktail Party A Jim and Mary Story Jim and Mary have taken Isobel with them on a sailing vacation. By now they are having threesomes, but Mary would like to have Jim to herself for a while. Another boat, the Coq D'Or, anchors in the bay. On their way back to their charter boat from a trip to the beach they invite the crew of Coq D'Or, Jack and Pat, to come aboard for drinks. The afternoon went by happily enough. The anticipation of visitors from the other boat anchored in the bay brought out a cooperative streak in the two women. They prepared plates of food and hunted down glasses and napkins. There really wasn't much to do. Entertaining on a boat, although it can involve complicated culinary feats, generally runs more along the lines of ripping open a bag of potato chips, opening a jar of salsa and serving drinks. In fact more effort usually goes into the drinks than the food -- a reversal of the priorities most people observe on land. After some discussion they decided on gin and tonics, despite the fact, or may be because of it, that two nights ago that very same cocktail had led to a cut lip, three orgasms and a temporary change in the crew's life style. But most of the conversation was about who the couple on the other boat was and what they were like. The possibility of a romantic entanglement for Isobel seemed to have somewhat evaporated with the revelation that Jack had a partner already. But the histories and living arrangements and why's and wherefore's of other sailors have ever been a source of speculation at sea. Scarcely an hour before the get together was due to start, and certainly before the sun was over the yardarm, there was a new revelation. Pat was a man. There were two men on that boat -- Jim had seen them both come up to the bow of the ketch to inspect the anchor and fiddle with a snubber that had been attached to the anchor chain. "Hey, Mary," yelled Jim down the companionway to the two women laboring below. "What?" "There are two guys on that boat." "What do you mean 'two guys'?" "Pat's a guy. She's a he!" Isobel stuck her head through the companionway hatch. "You mean there's two guys on that boat? Not a man and a woman?" "Ah, well -- there might be a woman -- but I just saw another guy." "What's he like?" "He's just a guy, Isobel. What's the matter? I mean why does it matter?" "Oh, it doesn't," said Isobel. "But what's he like? You don't think they're gay, do you?" "How the hell would I know? They weren't doing anything. They weren't having sex on the foredeck." "Oh, don't be so stupid. Did they look gay?" "They were just hanging out on the deck. How do I know what gays look like?" "Well they'd better not be." "Would it matter if they were?" "Yes, of course it would. I'm not going to get all tarted up if there's no point because your friend Jack is schtupping his friend Pat." "Maybe they're bi. You could go for that, couldn't you?" Isobel was silent. Then she laughed. "Only if I'm on the front end of the train." "Don't be so crude." "Well, it's true. Don't be a prude." "So are you going to get tarted up or not?" "Yes, she is," said Mary, "otherwise she's going to be all over you again tonight." "Ooooh -- that was nasty," said Isobel. "Or under me - I don't mind which," said Jim. "It wasn't supposed to be nasty -- but we need to find you someone else so that I can have my husband back for a while." Isobel laughed again. "As long as it is just for a while." "Oh, you can share him, but I need him for some action tonight, all to myself." "In that case let's get me tarted up and see if I can lure one of these Coq D'Or guys." Isobel went to the locker next to the fore berth and pulled out some clothes. She held a dress in front of her and swirled the skirt around her legs. "How about that? Do you think that'll lure a sailor?" "Umm -- no. I don't like the neck. Too plain. You need something to draw attention..." "To what? To what little I have? I don't have any tits worth talking about." "They're not going to be talking about them. They're going to be looking at them. No, I meant your neck and down to the top of your breasts. You're really pretty. You've got such nice skin. We need to draw their eyes there." "Oh, I like that idea!" "What else have you got?" "There's this white silky thing with lace round the neck and long sleeves." "That'll do. It's nice and low round the neck. It shows you off nicely." "Skirt?" "Mini-skirt. The black one." "Don't you think that's too tarty?" "Not if you wear panties." Isobel giggled. "OK, if you insist." "Those guys will be all over you." "Do you really think so?" "Are you kidding? You'll be a knockout. I don't know what I'm going to do with Jim, though. He's going to want to get his hands on you too." "Then you'd better see you're done up to the nines! If he sees you looking gorgeous he won't be interested in me -- you've got a much better figure than I have. I'm just flat and chunky." "I don't have anything sexy to wear. I just thought we'd be on the boat for this vacation and getting naked with Jim would be sexy enough." "Then you should try something different." Mary rummaged through her locker, pulling pieces of clothing out and holding them up for Isobel to see. "None of this stuff," said Isobel, "is going to do the job. Here -- try this." She handed Mary a skimpy piece of cloth. Mary squeezed herself into the yellow tank-top. "It doesn't fit." "Of course it doesn't. That's the point." Mary shifted her breasts around under the material until they were more or less contained by the fabric. "Oh, Jesus," said Mary. "I can't wear this." "Of course you can. And here -- wear this peasant skirt but roll the top so it's shorter." "I'm so embarrassed. I look like a slut." "Yes, you do. At least you will when you've got some make-up on." Isobel applied powder, rouge and a virulent red lipstick to both of their faces. "Are you sure about this, Isobel? I've never worn stuff like this before. They'll think we are tarts. I'm going to take all this stuff off." "No, don't do that. Call Jim. Tell him to come down here. No, wait. I'll call him." "Jim! Come 'ere!" Jim appeared at the head of the companionway. "Jesus fucking Christ! You're gorgeous, both of you" He leapt down the steps and pulled Mary to him, kissed her on the lips and fondled her breasts through the thin material. "My God, Isobel. You look like a..." "Like a what?" "...like a million dollars." He put his arm round her and pulled up her mini-skirt. "At least you've got panties on." "Jim, we can't have people coming on the boat with me looking like this," said Mary. "Why not? You look wonderful." "I don't mind you and Isobel seeing me like this -- at least, not now I don't. But these other two men you're bringing over..." "Mary, sweetheart, you look wonderful. Don't worry about them. They'll think you were sent from heaven." "If you are sure, then I guess I'll wear it. But I still don't know what Jack and his friend are going to think when they see us." Mary needn't have worried. After the Coq D'Or's dinghy bumped against the swim ladder and the two men came aboard, they behaved like perfect gentlemen, apart from a discreet "Jesus, will you look at that," whispered by Pat to his skipper as he climbed aboard. The crew of the charter boat were all smiles as they welcomed their guests, made them gin and tonics, quite strong ones - Isobel's idea -- and settled them in the cockpit. Jim and Mary sat on one side and the two men sat together opposite, until Isobel brought the last plate of snacks and wriggled her way in between them. Jim watched the three people opposite him. Jack was the handsome seafarer, lean and tanned with crow's feet crinkling his leathery face and grey hair tied in a pony tail. He chatted easily with the crew of the charter boat, asking them where they had been and how they came to be sailing together -- interested but not nosy, happy to make conversation. Jim could imagine that given the chance of a few hours of conversation and a couple of convivial drinks, they could be friends for life. At least, that was the first impression that Jack made. Jack didn't just talk to the male of the couple as so many sailors would have done, but took care to engage Mary, smiling at her and drawing her into the conversation. Mary relaxed enough that she stopped worrying that her tits might escape from her tank top. She leant forward, toying with her cold drink, and enjoyed the pleasure of a new face that could keep up a good conversation. Much as Mary enjoyed having Isobel to talk to she had to admit that most of the conversations with her were inane, and that discussions among the three of them on their boat were not much more interesting. Isobel had directed her attention to Pat and was turning on the charm. She wasn't a natural at it, thought Jim; her conversation was often rude and intrusive, and was just as likely to piss someone off as to make a friend. But Pat seemed to be enjoying the attention that this incongruously dressed middle-aged woman was giving him. Pat was probably in his mid to late twenties and a contrast to his shipmate. Jim wasn't sure where he was from -- he looked Irish, and he had a trace of Irish brogue heavily overlaid with some sort of whiny east coast inflexion. He had a flat pudgy face and was overweight; more reddened by the sun than tanned. Jim did wonder if maybe Isobel was right and that Pat's soft and tender body was what kept Jack happy in his bunk at night. They were such an incongruous pair it was difficult to think of another reason why they would be together. On the other hand Pat was either doing a good job of humoring Isobel's attempts at engaging him or he really was interested, because he never took his eyes off her. Jim couldn't help noticing that Pat's eyes kept straying to Isobel's décolletage, so maybe the wardrobe was working. "What happened to your lip?" asked Pat. "I had an accident." "How was that?" "I fell down the companionway." The ungainly visitor was sympathetic. Isobel could imagine that if it had been Pat that fell down the companionway he might have gone through the bottom of the boat. "It can be difficult to keep your footing when the boat's moving. You have to be careful." "Actually," said Isobel, "we were at anchor, but I'd had a few drinks and the boat only seemed to be moving!" Pat laughed. "Oh dear, that's not good -- does it hurt?" "It's a bit tender." "You need a bit of ice on it -- it'll numb it and make the swelling go down." "So it won't hurt when I kiss somebody?" He laughed. "Not if it's numb enough. Is that a possibility? "Don't know yet," she said, leaning into him. He fished a piece of ice out of his drink and rubbed it on her lip. "Ooh, that's nice. Get another bit." He pulled out another large ice cube, but while pressing it on her lip it slipped out of his hand. It fell down into her cleavage and disappeared. Isobel squealed and spilled her drink on her blouse. "Oh, shit -- that was cold. What are you trying to do Pat?" Pat looked stricken and blushed crimson "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to let go of it. Are you OK?" The wet fabric clung to Isobel's stiffening nipple and molded to the outline of her breast. "It's just cold and - Oh, my God - how embarrassing." Isobel looked down and giggled. "Mary said this blouse would attract men, but she didn't say anything about having to wet it first." "And where's that fucking ice cube. It's killing me." She lifted up her blouse just enough for the melting lump of ice to slide out and bounce on the floor. It brought a laugh from everybody. Jack wanted to dab her dry with his kerchief but Isobel good-naturedly slapped him away. Isobel and Pat got on famously after that. Mary was relieved to see that they seemed attracted to each other. Pat had horses at home and Isobel was suddenly interested in horseflesh in a way that she had never been before. If she'd ever told any of her friends that she had a fancy for horses they would have laughed at her. But that she had a fancy for Pat's amiable and slightly chubby frame was soon obvious. And Pat, who didn't seem like the most touchy-feely guy anybody had ever met was beginning to be quite tactile. Isobel put her hand on his knee. "Do you wear spurs?" "Oh, no! I ride English. You know -- dressage and show-jumping. That sort of thing." "I like to ride too," said Isobel thinking back to what had happened on the beach, and enjoying the fact that he was running his finger thoughtfully along the back of her hand where it lay on his knee. "Really! Maybe we can do it together sometime." "Oh, I hope so." Mary was enjoying her conversation with Jack, too. Her gin and tonic had helped her self-consciousness about her tank-top and she was beginning to enjoy Jack's tales of his journey from the East Coast of the United States. Jack had sold his insurance business and set off with his then wife for a life of voyaging in the Caribbean. Jill, the wife, had tired of the adventure quite quickly and left Jack to complete his travels with a succession of companions drawn from friends, family and people he met along the way. Jack was a talker, not a strong silent lone sailor, and he liked to expand on the characteristics of his erstwhile crew members, especially now that he had a couple of drinks inside him. Jim had liked him a lot to start with, but now he was beginning to wonder what it was about the guy that didn't seem quite right -- it was nothing he could put his finger on. Jim shrugged off the feeling. Mary, on the other hand seemed fascinated by the increasingly voluble sailor. "I picked up this woman in San Juan who had put her name on the marina bulletin board to crew a yacht in the Caribbean. I met her in the bar at the marina and she moved aboard that night as cook/crew. There were a couple of things that she hadn't told me. One was that she couldn't cook and the other was that she was an alcoholic nymphomaniac. I could cope with a non-culinary sex goddess but not one that was drunk and abusive and fucking the daylights out of you all at the same time. "So I put her off in the Virgin Islands." "My God," said Mary. "How did you cope?" "Oh, I can do it three times a day easy." Jim laughed, despite himself. "I mean the cooking," said Mary, blushing with embarrassment at the thought of him doing it three times a day but also because she knew that the thought was making her nipples hard and they were distorting her skimpy yellow top. Jim rubbed her back gently in sympathy, but all that did was make her breasts sway under the thin material. Jack said "I lost a lot of weight," and laughed. Pat interrupted the conversation and rescued Mary from further embarrassment by telling them that he was taking Isobel to show her over the Coq D'Or. As she climbed over the rail into the dinghy Isobel showed everybody that she was still wearing her panties. Judging by the amount of tugging he was doing Pat seemed to be having trouble with the fit of his shorts. Soon they were settled in the inflatable and powering off across the water. "They seem to be getting on OK," said Jim. "I'm surprised," said Jack. "I never thought he was into women." "You mean he's gay?" asked Mary. "It's just that as far as I know he's never had a girlfriend. He seems more comfortable with his horses." "Maybe Isobel will give him a ride instead -- Ooh, no God I didn't mean that. What am I saying?" She turned almost purple and hid her face in her hand and then looked up laughing. Mary was so focused on getting her competition for Jim out of the way that the catty comment just slipped out. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was terrible. What will you think of me?" "It won't change what I think of you. Don't worry." He paused. "I have to tell you that seeing the three of you fucking on the beach was just the most arousing thing I have ever seen." "Shit," said Jim, under his breath. "Oh, no, you didn't see us did you? Oh, please, no -- say you didn't!" wailed Mary, red faced and appalled. Jack laughed again. "It's all right. It was nice and it looked like fun. I don't disapprove you know. In fact I wouldn't have minded joining in. And that's how I know that Isobel really can ride." "Well, it was all very well what happened," said Mary, regaining her composure. "But it won't happen again. I'm glad she's gone off with your friend. I want my husband for myself for a bit." Jim put his arm round her and gave her a squeeze and kiss behind her ear. "You've got me whenever you want me, sweetheart." Jack, a little drunk and emboldened by what he'd seen on the beach said, "You've got both of us if Jim wouldn't mind." "Oh, my God. I can't believe I'm hearing this. Why did I ever say anything about Isobel riding? I should keep my big mouth shut." Jim was also getting over his astonishment at the turn of the conversation. There had been astounding changes in his sex life already this week but Jack's proposition that they also include him seemed to take too much for granted. On the other hand a completely new side of Mary had been emerging, so he decided to see what she would do. "It depends on what Mary wants," said Jim. "I'd never force her into doing something she doesn't want to do. Mary?" Mary was looking at him, horrified. "Well, sweetheart, what do you say?" asked Jim, massaging her tit through the flimsy fabric. She pulled his hand away. "You must be joking. What's got into you? You don't think I'm going to fuck Jack because he just showed up and you think it's a good idea? No way!" Jack smiled. "That's OK. Forget I mentioned it." "Yes, let's," said Mary. Jim was quite pleased that Mary had rejected such a bald proposal from a stranger, but now realized that Mary blamed him for her being propositioned by the man in the first place. "Well, I should be going," said Jack. "You guys stay and enjoy being together." Mary was not pleased at that idea either. She had no intention of staying on the boat with the man who had just tried to give her to a stranger, especially since the man who made such a generous offer was her husband. "Why don't we take you to your boat," said Mary. "And then we can leave you there with Isobel. I'm sure she'll be more accommodating than I am." They climbed into the little dinghy, cranked the outboard and headed in the direction of Coq D'Or. On the way Mary said to Jack "I'm sorry I was so rude. But you did take me by surprise and I had been looking forward to some time alone with my husband." "Don't mention it," replied Jack. "I'm sorry too. At least come aboard when we get there and I'll show you around and we can have a drink to return your hospitality. And we'll keep Isobel aboard and entertain her if she'll stay. Then the two of you can have some time together." The dinghy touched the ladder and Jack climbed aboard and made the painter fast. He reached down and gave his hand to Mary and helped her onto the ketch. As she boarded she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry," she whispered to him. "It's OK," he murmured back. He reached his hand for Jim and helped him aboard as well. He put his arm round his shoulders. "Sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to cause a problem." Jim thought Jack's familiarity presumptuous, but for Mary's sake he said, "Oh, that's OK -- don't think about it." They followed Mary who was heading down the companionway into the cabin. "Well, for God's sake!" she exclaimed. The two men crowded behind her and peered through the door. Bareboaters Ch. 05 "What are you doing here?" said Isobel She was slumped on the port settee, topless. Her black mini-skirt was rucked around her waist and she had a drink in her hand. Pat, in his shorts, was kneeling between her legs and looked up at them, startled and red-faced. "We came to bring Jack back." "I can see that. I thought you'd be longer." "So I see," said Mary a little sharply. "Since you're here you might as well stay," said Isobel expansively and waved her glass at them. Mary started down the companionway steps. Pat clambered to his feet clumsily covering the front of his shorts with his hand. Mary put her hand on the side of his face and kissed him. "Your face is wet, dear," she told him. He wiped it with the back of his hand and looked uncertainly between Mary and Isobel. "Carry on, dear. You can't stop now," said Mary. "Err -- I don't think so. Not with everybody watching. I don't think I can do it." "Oh, please, Pat. I'm getting cold," said Isobel laughing again. "I'm sorry," said Pat. "There's no way." "Oh, Pat -- don't be like that. You were so good at it," insisted Isobel. "I'll tell you what... here, Mary hold my drink. Come her you lovely man." Isobel stood and put her arms round his chest and hugged him to her. The top of her head only came to just under his nipples so she kissed his ribs. "It's OK -- you don't have to do anything to me, but I'd like to do something for you." She slid her lips down his stomach and pulled his shorts down. She held his now limp cock. "Now sit down." As soon as he did so she knelt between his legs and engulfed him in her mouth. Pat looked up at the cabin roof and groaned. Jack turned to Jim and Mary. "How about you having that drink I promised? Go find a place to sit. You may have to climb over my other guest." Jim and Mary sat on the settee opposite where Isobel was giving head to Pat. The space in the cabin was very cramped so Mary had to hike up her skirt and sit with one leg on either side of Isobel. She had brought Pat's erection back to life and was slowly, very slowly, moving her mouth up and down the shaft. Pat sat-open mouthed and watched the comings and goings of his cock in Isobel's mouth. Occasionally she would push her head down until her lips were buried in his cock hair and make a slight gagging noise before withdrawing up the wet and slimy rod. Jack brought the drinks and parked himself next to the younger man on the settee. "How are you doing, Pat old man?" he asked. Pat just grunted. Isobel paused and said "He's lovely," and swallowed him down again. The other three sat and watched without saying anything, and sipped their drinks. Jack was intently watching Pat's cock making its slow way in and out of Isobel's throat. He rubbed the growing erection that was tenting his shorts. Jim was also getting hard and had slipped his hand under Mary's skirt. Mary parted her legs a little wider for him while she trailed her fingers backwards and forwards across Isobel's neck. Pat sat with his hands limply by his sides and let Isobel do all the work. After kneeling on the hard cabin sole for a while she said "My knees are killing me. Jack, move over." She climbed and knelt on the settee. Her miniskirt was still twisted around her midriff and her backside was inches from Jack's face. He put his drink down so that he could fondle her small tits and finger her pussy. There were new noises. The sound of Isobel occasionally choking on Pat's cock was joined by squelching sounds from her pussy as Jack worked his fingers into her and the occasional "Oh, Jaysus!" from Pat. Isobel started making staccato noises in the back of her throat. It was as if Jack's fingers were so far into her that he was twanging her vocal cords. She finally must have thought that everything was ready -- that Pat's prick was red enough, engorged enough and slobbered on enough, that it would be nice to have it inside her. And her canal was so finger-fucked and wet that it was slobbering to take it in. She pulled herself away from the men and slumped herself on the couch. Jack freed his cock and used the pussy slobber on his hand to wet his tool. It looked to Jim as if Jack wanted to beat Pat to the punch, but Isobel obviously wanted Pat to take the first round. "Fuck me, Pat!" Pat knelt in front of her. His prick was red and swollen, the foreskin marked by a few virulently colored glistening folds just below the head. He pressed his cock head past the wet matted hair surrounding her pussy and forced it slowly into her vagina. "Oh, Jayz, that's good." Isobel groaned a huge groan. "Now do me hard, Pat. I really need it!" Pat obeyed enthusiastically. Isobel raised her legs and held on to her knees so that her pussy lined up with his cock. He ran his shaft into her up to the hilt and started to fuck. Pat's cock ploughed its furrow, propelled by his big white buttocks. Jack leant over and spread his hand over Isobel's pussy so that Pat's cock drove between his fingers. But before he had completed a dozen strokes Pat cried "Oh, no! Not yet!" His body went rigid and he shot his load into her. His face was red and miserable. He looked mortified, but he kept fucking for a short time until his wet and shrunken cock was too short to fit inside her. A trickle of white translucent fluid escaped from her pussy. "Damn!" she said. "I'm sorry." "It's OK." "It was my first time with a woman." "Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Isobel. "Really?" "Yes," he said. "Well, the first time inside one." "Oh, you poor sweet man!" Isobel sat up and hugged the embarrassed young man. "Pat, I'm ready for you just as soon as you are ready again. Don't worry." "Jim! Stop a minute," said Mary. Jim and Mary had been kissing and fondling each other on the settee. Jim had Mary's head back on the cushion and was deep kissing her, gently moving his lips over hers and penetrating her wet mouth with his tongue. He had always thought that kissing Mary was one of the most intense pleasures of his life. Her lips were soft, she always tasted sweet and she always responded to him, creating a lively love life for their tongues inside her mouth. Today was no exception and he was reluctant to stop. The kissing was making his heart beat faster and pumping blood into his prick. He was beginning to want Mary very badly and didn't want to be interrupted. But Mary's motherly instincts had been aroused by Pat's plight. Mary moved Jim's hand from under her skirt and took hold of Pat's. "Come here, Pat, my love and lie down. Move over Jim." She pushed Pat onto his back. His flaccid cock was a wet, cold little pile hiding in a nest of gingery hair. Mary smoothed down the wet hair around it, squeezed some of the cum off it with her fingers and popped it in her mouth. Pat lay very still with his arm crooked over his eyes. "I'll soon have you hard again, dear. It's one of my favorite things to do." Jim felt sorry for him, remembering more than one occasion when the same disaster had happened to him. He reached over and pulled the yellow tank top up around Mary's neck. "There you go, Pat. Something to hang on to." Mary may have objected to being offered wholesale to Jack, but she didn't demur at Jim giving her tits to Pat. At first Pat only grazed her breast with his fingers but then gained enough confidence to grasp hold of her doughy breast. The sensation sent little jolts to Mary's pussy. Jim tore his eyes away and looked over at Isobel. Once Mary had taken over the care of Pat, Isobel had quickly stopped worrying about him and found another toy to please her. Jim watched her slip herself onto Jack's long cock. A couple of dollops of Pat's prematurely dispensed semen slipped out of her pussy onto Jack's penis, although the extra lubricant wasn't needed. She dropped herself straight down his shaft and the remainder of Pat's cum squeezed out onto Jack's balls, like white sauce on a Christmas pudding. She started to ride him. He power assisted her by supporting her buttocks with his hands, lifting her and dropping her, spearing her at each fall. Jim knew that Isobel was not very big -- after all he'd bottomed out in her when they'd fucked in the cockpit the previous day. Jack was big, so it was no wonder that every time Jack dropped her all the way down, his cock was hitting something deep inside and making her grunt. It didn't seem to hurt her; she wasn't trying to save herself from the final inch of penetration. She seemed happy for it to slam all the way home. But he could tell she was feeling it. What started off as just grunts steadily rose in pitch. Jim wondered if she was going to finish by screaming like she had when he and Mary had finger-fucked her two nights ago. That had been quite a racket! Jack had a grim frown of concentration on his face. He might have looked as if he was enjoying it more, thought Jim. Jack snarled, "Come on, you little bitch! Ride my cock!" Isobel stopped moving, all of a sudden, halfway up his cock. Mary stopped fellating Pat and looked at Jack with a quizzical expression. Jim was about to say something, when Isobel said, "Fuck you, Jack! You talk to me nice!" Jack's expression stiffened and the tendons stood out in his neck. Jim thought he was tensing himself to evict Isobel from his prick, but she slammed back down on him and the moment passed. From then on Jack was no longer actively involved in the fuck. Isobel rode him at a fast trot, posting to his cock, riding English. Pat would have been proud of her if had been watching, but he still had his eyes covered. Mary was holding Pat's succulent little morsel in her mouth, warming it up by soaking it in her saliva and gently twirling it with her tongue. The problem was it didn't respond. She hummed to it, a little sing-song tune as it lay like a sleepy dormouse in her mouth. She stroked his balls with one hand and trailed her fingers through the sparse hairs on his stomach. She tried sucking it hard, drawing it up into her lips like spaghetti. She could stretch it to three or four inches, but as soon as she let go it crumpled like a stretched rubber band. Mary tried something else. Maybe he needed a little something extra to get him going. She knew all about the hot wired connection between her own nipples and her pussy and Jim had told her that he liked it when she pinched his nipples. She searched for Pat's soft flat nipple hiding on the mound of his little breast and circled her finger around it. There was no reaction from the fat Irishman until she pinched the embryonic male nipple between her thumb and finger as hard as she could. "Aaayy!" groaned Pat. His buttocks rose off the settee, and his flaccid little cock started to stiffen in Mary's mouth. Mary laughed in her throat and gave Jim a thumbs up! Jim had given up waiting for Mary to get finished with Pat and had pulled his cock out and started stroking it while he leant against the chart table watching the action. He could tell Isobel was getting close to coming. Her face and neck were red, her short hair was plastered to her scalp in the tropical heat of the cabin and she was flying up and down Jack's rod. Jim was right about her orgasm, but wrong about a screaming fit. When the moment came she bottomed herself on Jack and then just started to shake. And the sound that came out of her was a deep sobbing hiccupping groan. Jim didn't think a woman could make a sound in that octave. She shook and shook, wracked by sobs. You could see her ass clenching and unclenching as her vaginal walls clawed at the end of Jack's prick. Uh!..Uh!..Uh!...... Oooooooh! Jack didn't wait for her to stop shaking. He pushed her off, stood up and shoved his way out of the cabin, his red, sticky cock waving in front of him like a bloody sword. Isobel watched him go incredulously. Her lower lip was quivering. "Jim, what was all that about? He never even came!" Isobel stood in the cabin where Jack had left her, red faced, still shaking, eyes brimming with tears. "I would have let him. You know I would. I would have done it 'til he came." Mary released Pat from the settee and he hauled himself to his feet and clumsily wrapped his arms round Isobel. "Oh, Pat, why doesn't he like me? Do you think it was because I said I didn't like what he called me? That was nothing to get upset about." "He's not like that really," he said, defending his skipper. "He's, um, OK. He's just not..." She wasn't listening. She buried her face in his man breasts and he held her stoically. "You are so good," she said. "And I can at least tell you still like me." She stroked his hard-on. He didn't mention that it was a gift from Mary, who was standing with Jim, wiping her mouth with one hand and stroking Jim with the other. "Can we, like, carry on where we left off?" Isobel mumbled into Jack's skin. Pat gulped "yes." "Just where were we when we were interrupted?" She held her face up for a kiss. He kissed her briefly and smudged a tear away with his thumb and went back to holding her. "Pat?" she said, but he was rooted to the spot. He didn't seem able to move himself, let alone make a move on Isobel. Jim and Mary moved in on them. Jim took Isobel and gently bent her over the stool in front of the chart table. Mary brought Pat over to her, wiped her hand in the mess between Isobel's legs and smeared it on Pat's prick. She pushed him forward. Pat pushed into Isobel and started gingerly sliding in and out, as if he was afraid of coming too quickly again. "You'll be fine, dear," said Mary. "Get hold of her hips and pull her to you. We like it when men do that. And don't worry. You'll last really well this time." Soon the hot little cabin was filled with the sound of Pat's steady drubbing of Isobel -- the groans, the moans, and the slap of stomach against ass and of thigh against thigh. Pat hung on to Isobel's hips. Mary was right. Isobel did like it done that way. Jim pulled Mary to him and kissed her hard. She said "I was going to wait until we got back to the boat but I don't think I can wait that long." Jim pulled her panties from under her skirt, laid her down on their settee and went down on her. He parted her lips with his fingers and exposed her tender clitoris which he took in his lips, and used his fingers to explore her wetness. "Oh, Jim," said Mary, dreamily relaxing herself into the luxury of Jim's attentions. Jim knew how she liked it and she could give herself fully to the pleasure of it. At that point Jack returned to the cabin having had a stiff drink and a cigarette up on deck. He observed the two couples making love and then headed for Pat and Isobel. Jack's sudden appearance froze the action, like hitting the pause button on a DVD. All four of them waited to see what he would do. Jim stopped to watch him, leaving two fingers inside Mary. Mary craned her neck round to look at him. Isobel raised her head and Pat stopped fucking. Jack squatted in front of Isobel. "I'm sorry, Isobel," he said. "I've haven't been able to come in a woman for years. It's nothing to do with you. I thought if I talked to you like that it would help me, but it just upset you. I want to say I'm sorry." "Jack," said Isobel. "Can't you see I'm busy fucking? Apologize some other time." "All right, if that's what you want," said Jack, and slid past her and Pat into the space between the two settees. He took a small bottle of liquid from a shelf and poured a liberal amount into his hand. He smeared some on his prick and the rest between Pat's buttocks. Pat didn't say anything and started slowly fucking Isobel again. "Oh, yes, Pat," said Isobel. "Thank God. Keep going." Isobel braced herself on the stool and arched her back. With Pat's beautiful slippery prick once more rippling inside her she was starting to feel good again. Jack slid his hand between Pat's cheeks and rubbed his finger over the little puckered star of his anus. Pat looked surprised but didn't stop fucking. "Aaaaaagh," said Isobel, "Just like that." Even though she was so wet and slippery this angle was giving her perfect friction. Jack slid a finger into Pat's ass on one of the backstrokes and embedded it. Pat looked uncomfortable for a moment but from then on he seemed to accept that Jack's hand was part of the action. Isobel, unaware that a finger was now buried between the buttocks that drove the pole into her pussy, was savoring every second. "Ooooooooh, yes. That's so good. Don't stop!" But Pat did stop when Jack grasped his hips. Jack held him still and positioned his long fleshy stock at the entrance to Pat's tight little passage. "Ooooooooh," groaned Pat as Jack's rubbery cock-head started to stretch his sphincter. He was transfixed, nailed between Jack's insistent insertion and the finite depths of Isobel's elastic pussy. Mary, who had been watching aghast the whole time sat up and pulled Jim's fingers out of her opening. "Oh, Jesus," she whispered. "I don't believe it." "Come on, Pat," urged Isobel. "Why have you stopped?" "Aaaaargh," groaned Pat. "He's in me." "What the fuck is going on back there?" wailed Isobel. "Your train just arrived, dear," said Mary. "Wha... Oh, shit, no! You've got to be kidding. Pat, let me out!" But she couldn't move. She was wedged against the chart table stool. She pushed back to give herself room to get out, but all that did was drove Jack deeper into Pat and Pat deeper into her. "Oh, this is so awful," moaned Isobel. "Oh, Pat!" moaned Jack. "Owww!" moaned Pat. "Jack, slowly...slowly, please!" "Shhh! Give it a minute -- it'll be OK." Isobel was pissed. "Pat, for Christ's sake what are you doing? Or Jack, or whoever? This was my fuck!" Jim and Mary were sidetracked from their own pleasure by this new drama, and looked on in amazement. Isobel had slumped back over the stool in resignation. Pat was up to the hilt in her and being pushed deeper by Jack. Jack pulled the band off his hair and let it fall down over his shoulders. He was moving his cock slowly an inch at a time in Pat's unbelieving asshole. Pat was slipping from grimaces of pain into a glazed expression, like a rabbit caught in headlights. After a short time Pat pushed back against Jack, sliding part way out of Isobel. Jack pushed him back again and Isobel's fuck began again. "Oh, that's better. Are you on your own again, Pat?" "No," moaned Pat. "I'm not, but this is so good." "Well don't stop again, for God's sake." Isobel was fucked to a new rhythm, tentative at first as Pat got used to being impaled on another man's cock, but with an increasing tempo as his ass stretched to accommodate Jack's slim pole and its swollen tip began to arouse him deep inside. The combined impetus of the two males drove Pat's shaft to the hilt in Isobel on every stroke. She was so wet with her own juice, from the previous dousing with Pat's cum, and the stretching she'd got from Jack's well-endowed prong that Isobel started to experience pure pleasure again. "Oh, yes, guys! Fuck me hard!" Pat's chubby body rippled with the cadence of the impacts; Jack into his buttocks, and Isobel's buttocks back into him. His face was red and beaded with perspiration and a rivulet of sweat ran down his back. Jack laid his cheek up against Pat's wet back and humped for all he was worth. Mary decided she could wait to get back to their boat after all, where she and Jim could fuck in peace away from the chaotic orgy on Coq D'Or. She peered into Isobel's crimson face. "Will you be alright if we go?" "Mmmmfff, mmmmfff, go!" croaked Isobel. With Isobel fully occupied, she could at last have Jim to herself. She found her panties, Jim pulled up his shorts and they made their way to the dinghy. As the little boat puttered its way back across the water the evening calm of the anchorage was rent by the full throated screams of Isobel in orgasm. Bareboaters Ch. 05 "I want what she's having," laughed Mary. Jim opened the throttle and the boat flew across the water.