Fantasies Fulfilled

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I am not looking for a relationship at this point in my life. "What I need," I tell you, "are some new mental images for when I masturbate."

You tell me that you think you love your husband, and while there is still sex in your marriage, it has become routine and passionless.

"I tried everything I could think of to keep things interesting. I only wear thong panties, when I wear any panties at all. As you plainly saw, I keep my pussy waxed. It's just that our sex life is so predictable. We go to bed on Saturday night, and he rolls on top of me, sucks on my tits for a few seconds and then sticks his cock in me. A couple of minutes later, it's over. I really don't even need to be in the room: a piece of liver at body temperature would serve the same purpose. Do you realize that I have not come during sex in nearly two years? After we got married, he lost all interest in me except as a receptacle for his spunk. Did I tell you that I make him wear a condom? It is not to prevent pregnancy, because I want to have a baby. It is so I don't have to clean up the mess afterward. That's what I think of sex with my husband: a mess to clean up afterward."

You continue, "I am 28 years old. I still want to be touched and caressed. I want to feel like I am the most important and sexy person in the world. I don't want him just to suck my tits; I want him to make love to them. I don't want him just to stick his dick in me; I want him to savor my pussy and kiss it and find my clit and flick it with his tongue. In short, I want him to make love to me and not my individual parts."

You contemplate your beer and then murmur, more to yourself than me, "I don't even know why I am still with him."

"Well, I am the last person to give relationship advice, but I can tell you that being alone is not all that great: no one to talk to at the end of the day, no one to just be with."

"But that's my point. I am alone, emotionally at least. You are my best friend, and up until now, I have not been able to even tell you these things."

"You told me that you still love your husband."

No, I said I think I still love him. I just don't know. Hey look, can we talk about something else? This is getting to be a bummer."

"Deal! Why don't you get comfortable, and catch some sun. I have grilled shrimp for lunch, and that always makes me feel better."

I can see the tension drain out of you. It seems that there were some emotions you needed to express, and every time you express them, you relax even more. I think you feel safe with me and confident that nothing will happen today that you will regret. You spread a towel on the cushions of the foredeck and lie on your stomach to work on your tan. You loosen the ties around your neck and back and let your top lay on the deck.

Chapter 5: The Late Morning

I clean up a little and then go to the sun deck and lean against the starboard rail and look at you. You are still on your stomach. The thing yellow strings that go around your back and neck are lying on either side of you. There is only a thin string around your waist, with another that disappears in the crack of your ass. You appear to be dozing, but I cannot be sure because the huge sunglasses you are wearing obscure your blue eyes. I study you for a while and try to come to grips with how it is I am with this gorgeous, young woman at this point in my life.

My thoughts return to the present when you roll over, sit up and say, "Hey, what are you staring at?" I have been caught gawking at you. You sit up, and the top of your ridiculously small bikini top falls to your lap exposing your magnificent breasts once more to my hungry eyes.

My mouth turns to cotton and I stammer something about checking on you. You laugh. "Were you checking on me, or checking me out?"

I reply that I would be a fool not to look whenever I get the chance.

I change the subject and point out that the sun is pretty intense, so you should probably put some lotion or sunscreen on. You tell me the lotion is in a bag in the cabin and ask if I will get it and put it on your back. (I think to myself that this is just getting better and better.)

I go below deck, while adjusting an uncomfortable erection. I see your bag and open it to find the coconut scented oil. I know it is wrong, but I look to see what else you brought in that bag. In addition to normal "girl stuff" there is an "appliance" that must have caused comment at the airport security checkpoint.

"Did you find it?" you call out.

I grab the oil and another beer and head to the sun deck. You are leaning against the rail, facing me. Your tanned body is perfectly set off by the yellow thong. Your tits are certainly natural, although I knew that before. You told me when you were thinking of having breast augmentation last year. I advised against it, and told you that I like smaller tits. I am glad you decided to leave them alone. (Maybe I am the reason?)

I started the day thinking that just seeing you naked would make my day. Now, I want to touch and caress your breasts and suck on the luscious nipples.

Without any sense of embarrassment or self-consciousness, you stand before me, nearly naked in the afternoon sun. Your skin glistens with perspiration. I hand you the beer and you use the cold can to cool the back of your neck before opening it. "I am getting hot", you say.

I do not rise to the double entendre. "Well, you do look a little flushed. Are you ready for lunch, or do you do you want to lie in the sun for awhile?"

"If there is no rush, can we wait on lunch? Can you put some of that lotion on my back?"

"Of course," I reply. "Your wish is my command."

You lay out one the deck, and I straddle your legs to work the oil into your skin. I spread my hands as I move my thumbs up and down your spine. My hands are big enough that I can "innocently" touch the sides of your breasts. I work down to the small of your back and stop at tiny yellow string of your thong.

My erection is beginning to be painful. It has been a long, long time since I have been this hard. I do not want to risk violating your trust so I make it a point to keep you from feeling my hardness. I move down to your ankles and rub the oil into your legs. As I move up your to your thighs, you spread your legs. The yellow fabric disappears into the outer lips of your pussy.

As I work the oil into your ass and upper thighs, I allow my fingers to lightly (and innocently) brush your pussy. It has an affect because you begin to grind your hips into the deck. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine", you say, but your movements increase in intensity. As I again bring my hands down your back, you raise your hips, which I take as an invitation to remove the bottoms of your bikini. I gently tug at the string around your waste and you rise up even more. I pull the fabric off and discover that it is damp; I don't know whether it is perspiration or passion. I bring it to my face and smell your musky scent combined with the aroma of the coconut oil.

Too quickly, I finish applying the oil and ask if you want me to do your front. You lift up on your elbows, raise your sunglasses and say, "I due time...In due time." You roll back on your front and give a little sigh.

Reluctantly get up to see about lunch. It is simple fare; skewered shrimp marinated in Tequila and lemon, with my own special Cole Slaw and some fruit.

As I am about to put the shrimp on the grill, you come around to the aft deck. I expected that you would be wearing a cover-up, but am surprised that you are completely naked. This is absolutely too much for me to stand. My erection is as hard as any I have had for years. There is no point in trying, because no amount of adjustment will hide the tent in my shorts.

You notice my predicament, and are obviously amused at my distress. You walk by me and your hand brushes across my crotch. I can feel that pre-cum is flowing and that I must attend to this problem. I tell you to help yourself to something cool and then excuse myself to use the head.

"Why are you going to use the toilet?" you ask. "I thought men in boats always peed over the side."

"Well, I said I was going to the head. I didn't say I had to pee."

"You are going to jack-off, aren't you?"

I am busted again and decide to be honest. "Yes, I need some relief. The visual stimulation is just too much, and I do not want you to get any ideas I am going back on my promise."

"That's just not fair," you reply. "You got to watch me, now I get to watch you."

"Well, that's fine, but I don't know if I can do it with an audience."

"Don't worry about that. Take off your shirt and shorts and we'll do it together."

This takes me by surprise. An hour ago, you were concerned that I may get the wrong idea about your visit, and now you want to masturbate with me. "Are you sure?" I ask. "That is a departure from what you said earlier."

"Don't worry about that, either. I decided that this is a day to have fun, and I think it would be fun for us to cum together, so, get those shorts and that shirt off. I don't want to be the only one without any clothes."

This is sort of brings up another problem. While I work out regularly (well, I work out once in a while), I am a little self conscious. Over the years, you told me of your sexual exploits, including the size of the cocks on some of your conquests. I also know that you have a thing for washboard abs. I am neither large, nor do I have washboard abs.

I am 54 years old, and people tell me I am in good shape, but always qualify it with "for my age". In a properly sized shirt and pants, I can look pretty fit, but naked? There is just no place to hide the extra pounds I carry.

In all the fantasies I had of this day, and the hope of seeing you without any clothes, I never considered this possibility.

I take off my shirt and unfasten my shorts. Since I am wearing boating shorts (they look like shorts but have a lining like swimming trunks), I am going commando. My thoughts are turned inward to the fact that I am about to be naked in front of a flawless female form. You, however, bring me back to the here and now as you pulled my shorts around my ankles with one swift move. You reach around and wrap your right hand around my rock hard cock and gave it a little flick.

"There, now that we are past that, let's see we can do about that hard-on."

I throw the shrimp back in the cooler and we return to the sundeck. We sit facing each other with my legs out at an angle and your legs over mine. My cock is just inches away from your pussy. The way you are sitting opens your pussy slightly and I catch a glimpse of your clitoris. It protrudes from under its hood and is noticeably erect. I can tell that you are as stimulated as me.

I am no longer stealing glances at your body. I am studying each curve. I watch as you stroke your pussy with your right hand, and with your left you pull and twist on each nipple. You plunge one, then two fingers into your pussy, which now glistens in the speckled sunlight. The scent of your arousal reaches my nostrils, despite being outdoors. It is the same scent I smelled on your thong a few minutes ago.

Your eyes close for a while and they open. You look me straight in the eyes as you bring yourself closer to orgasm. I look down and see that my pre-cum is creating a small puddle on the cushions. I reach down and use my thumb to spread it around my cock, using it as a natural lubricant and begin to stroke myself, slowly at first, and then with increasing intensity that matches your actions. You remove your right hand from your pussy and bring it to your lips and suck your fingers. You obviously see what it is doing to me, because you put your hand down and dip more of the seductive elixir from between your legs, bend forward and put your fingers to my mouth.

That does it for me. The years of work tension and pressure, the months of solo pleasure, the total lack of intimacy in my life, the near-pornographic emails and text messages, the visual stimulation of today, and now the total eroticism of licking your juices off your fingers, triggers the start of an intensive eruption.

I try to hold back to extend the pleasure, but it is no use. Guttural sounds emanate from deep inside me. My balls seem to contract and the jets of white semen are ejected with intensity that I have not seen (or felt) since I was a teenager. The first lands on your right breast and seems to hang off your erect nipple. The second lands just above your navel. The third lands on the back of your left hand, which is now working your pussy as you reach your own climax. You reach down and hold my pulsing cock as the fourth shoots into your hand.

You smile and take the handful of semen to your mouth. "Now I get to taste you." Then you rub my cum on your tits and around your pussy, as if it was a luxurious skin cream.

We both come down from our post-climax high without further physical contact. I tell you that I cannot remember coming with that much power. You tell me that your climaxes so far are a prelude to what you expect will be the "big one" later on.

After a couple of minutes you ask if there is time to take a swim before lunch. We get up and dive off the bow of the boat into the cool water.

We swim for a while, occasionally splashing one another like children. We float on our backs, our bodies react to the cool water in different ways: you with your nipples hard and me with my cock shriveled. We tread water, face to face and talk about things. Surprisingly, the sexual tension is gone, replaced by more sensual sensations.

You swim towards me and our naked bodies touch for the first time. I feel your hard nipples against my chest. You wrap your legs around my waist and I feel the warmth of your pussy, despite the water temperature. My cock comes to life again. You bring your lips to mine, open, with your eyes closed. I receive them and our tongues meet, not with lust, but with sensual gentleness.

Too quickly the moment passes and you break the kiss and splash water on both of us. "I'm starved. What's a girl got to do to get something to eat around here?"

Chapter 6: The lunch

We swim around to the stern of the boat and I lower the boarding ladder. As you climb up, I get an "up-skirt" view (without the skirt, of course) of your satiny smooth pussy. Your outer lips are tight, but a hint of your inner lips shows through.

I climb aboard, and after toweling off, grab my shorts to pull them on. You stop me and ask me not dress.

"Let's stay naked the rest of the day. I will if you will."

I take a quick assessment of myself. My 54 year old gut is beyond the point that I can "suck it in" for any length of time. My cock, which has always been on the small side of average, is practically nonexistent after our swim. "Are you sure you want to spend your day looking at this?"

"Doug, how can you ask that? You are kind, attentive and you make me feel attractive. Anything else is just packaging." You step towards me, drop your towel and pull me close. You lay your head on my shoulder and whisper in my ear, "Let's stay naked until it is time to go back." We kiss tenderly once more.

"Why don't you grab some sun and we will eat in a few minutes?"

I am torn about this unexpected turn of events, and I need time to think. You are a beautiful 28 year old woman who has been open about everything since we met over six years ago, but now I don't know if you are being coy or just open about nudity and about expressing your feelings. Maybe your actions are, in your mind, and in your generation, not sexual, just flirtatious.

Hell, from what I hear, a blow job is the new "first base".

In a few minutes, I have gone from having one of the most intense orgasms of my life to feeling like a dinosaur. Yes, I want to make love to you. But, am I reading your signals incorrectly? If I approach you, will you be repulsed? You are, after all, married and are 26 years younger than me. If I do approach you and you acquiesce, will it be because you want to, or will it be a mercy fuck?

The one thing, of which I am certain, is that I do not want to ruin the relationship we have had these past six years. Our open friendship is much more important to me than a one-time fuck session. Pushing things could hurt that friendship, especially if I am misreading the signals.

On the other hand, if I ignore your clues, you might think I am not interested in you (which I am).

I decide that I will remain open to anything you want to do, but you must take the lead. You have the most to lose. You are married and have a life in Chicago. I am single and have nothing to lose by moving forward. No one will pass judgment on me for anything that might come out of this day. In fact, I could be regarded as a real stud if I bed a young, beautiful woman, so it has to be up to you.

What will be, will be, I decide as I flip the skewers one last time.

"Okay, lunch is ready." The shrimp are done to perfection, the Cole slaw is creamy, the fruit salad is fresh and the wine (Pinot Grigio) is chilled. We sit in the shade of the canvas top. I think about the internal conversation I had with myself and decide to open up with you.

"Karen, we have been friends for a long time, and there is nothing I would do to damage that. I want to say that what I said earlier today still applies. I do not expect anything from of you but your continued friendship. Do you believe that?"

"Of course I do. And there is nothing you could do to change that. What's this all about?"

"Well, you're confusing this old man. I just want you to know that anything you want today I will give you...anything. But it will be up to you to take the lead. I am not going to make any assumptions. It seems you have changed your mind about what you said earlier. I don't want you to feel pressured into doing something that you might regret later."

"I wouldn't say I changed my mind. I guess you could say I am rethinking things. Was I happy yesterday? Am I happy today? What has changed? Are the changes permanent? What happens if I do one thing and what happens if I do another?"

"What have you decided?"

"Let's just say it is still a work in progress. I know I am sending you mixed signals, and I appreciate that you are not pressing the issue. When I felt your body against mine after we got out of the water, one part of me wanted you to fuck me then and there, while another part was afraid you might."

"We do think alike. Those were my thoughts."

"Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I think I may have found the man of my dreams about four years too late."

"What makes you think things would have been different? You had an exciting time with Matt before you were married."

"The difference is that our relationship involved sex after our second or third date. You and I have been friends for six years. We got to know each other without sex getting in the way."

You look up from your food and smile. "Don't worry; I am not going to leave my husband and ask you to run away with me, at least not today. I am just saying that what a 28 year old woman really wants is different than what a 22 year old thinks she wants, and I am just realizing it today."

We finish eating and I tend to the dishes, which means, I dump everything into a garbage bag and join you on the sun deck. The sun is starting its descent, putting part of the deck in shade, but you are lying on your back with your legs spread slightly.

"So, what do you want to do now? Your wish is my command," I ask.

"Can you rub some more oil on me?"

"Of course, but we are in the shade. Do you want me to move the boat so you get more sun?"

"No, I just want you to rub lotion on me. Can you give me a massage?"

Chapter 7: The Afternoon and the Massage