Going for a Sail

Arriving at the top of your bikini briefs I moved down to your feet. Before long I arrived at the same impediment from the other direction.

"I can't ignore your bottom so these are going to have to come off."

By this time you were in a trance like state. Your response was little more than a quiet murmur of consent and you lifted your hips a touch to allow me to slip the briefs from you. I got to work on the tops of your thighs and then your buttocks. Whilst at this stage I was still truly massaging, my hands inevitably brushed the lips of your sex and across the cleft of your arse. Your legs were parted and the arousal building in you was clear. I used my fingertips to gently massage either side of your swelling lips delighting in seeing them respond, engorged, pink and wet. I used my thumbs to sweep up and down the length of your outer labia. Before then to softly work on your perineum and over and around your anus. The continual stream of moans and little mewlings from you made it plain you were enjoying every moment. I cupped your vulva with my right hand exerting firm pressure before curling two fingers into the molten core and simultaneously pushing my slippery thumb into your arse. A few slow firm thrusts into both orifices had you coming with a little gush of juice and a breathless "Oh Zach, yes... oh god. Yes... yesssss."

I turned you over onto your back and kissed you with soft passion. Then gently smoothed my hands over your shoulders, the top of your chest, skirting around your breasts and up between them. With gentle pressure I worked around and over them but avoided the slowly stiffening nipples. My eyes watched them lengthen, the areolae tighten, pucker. I switched to watching your face, eyes closed, lips just parted and the tip of your tongue occasionally showing. After teasing you like this for an age and noting the increasing restlessness in you, I finally flicked my thumbs over those expectant nubs. The reaction was electric. You arched your body, head snapping back as the current surged through you. The "Oh" that escaped from you matched the shape of your mouth. You were going to be so very ready.

I moved once again to your feet and worked steadily up the front of each leg. Finally, with your heels tucked up next to your bum and your knees parted you looked at me as I dropped my swim shorts.

"You better be about to fuck me with that."

"You better believe it."

"Now! Please..."

I took hold of your legs lifting the backs of your thighs to my chest and leant into you. That was all it took as my length sank deep inside. I paused and brought my lips to yours. I could feel our heightened need transferring between us. Very slowly I began to move inside you, the strokes lengthening and increasing in power. Both of us were close when on the outward move my cock slipped from the embrace of your silky cunt. I was already beginning the forward thrust as I noticed. The slick, impossibly taut skin of the crown was pressed against your other entrance. Time paused.

"Yes", barely audible, whispered from you.

Our eyes locked as I slowly, carefully pushed into you. A little wince made me hold just as the head slipped in. Your lust hooded eyes drew me in further. Slowly, inexorably I filled your arse with my cock. You spoke again, softly.

"I've wanted you to do this. Ever since you told me you would in the middle of the night that time."

"You should have said something."

"I knew it would happen at the right time, and it has."

With that I began to make love to you in this new way. The outside world ceased to exist as I focused on you and the intense sensations being inflicted on my body. Slow, rhythmic thrusts. Reaching down between us I placed thumb and forefinger either side of your clit and slowly, firmly pinched the whole area. As your body fell into spasms of contractions I couldn't hold back any longer, nor hold myself up with the one arm.

It took forever to surface and to find your blue eyes sparkling beneath mine and then taste the soft, sweetness of your lips.

"Bloody hell Jo."

We grinned at each other madly.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Fancy a skinny dip?"

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Having threaded our way out of the rocky maze around Ile de Brehat, we set course for St Malo. I had to take you there. Such a dramatic fortress citadel, rich in history and so very French and Breton. In the early morning mist we motored serenely across a glassy sea. The advantage was that eating breakfast was easy and upright. Then a gentle breeze settled and I decided to play with the spinnaker. Inevitably the first hoist didn't go to plan, a twist halfway up, but as the conditions were so gentle it didn't really matter and I soon had it drawing well and adding a splash of colour, bright red, to the scene.

It was a serene summer's day sail. We chatted as Petrel loped along. Then you settled into a book whilst I steered by hand and played the kite in the light airs. Every now and then I'd gaze at you, all golden in the sunshine and sometimes you would catch me and break into that wonderful smile.

We made St Malo by mid-afternoon and found our way into a berth in the marina overshadowed by the imposing citadel walls.

"Why don't we have a shower and get changed then go for a wander around the walls before finding dinner?"

"Sounds great."

So that's what we did. Mind you I felt somewhat underdressed when you emerged in a chic little black dress looking utterly divine.

"Well, aren't I the lucky man."

"Yes." Said with a little grin.

We strolled around the city walls for an hour before finding a restaurant to feed our, by now, considerable appetite. We ate well and shared a bottle. We talked and laughed and eventually left feeling full and happy. Walking slowly with our arms around each other we ended up back on the walls looking out to sea. The inky blue-black of the sea was dotted with the winking lights of navigation buoys and beacons. The off-lying forts lit up with warm flood lamps. The scene had a fairytale quality. Stopping in a dark nook I stood behind you wrapping my arms around you to ward off the cool breeze. I lowered my lips to the soft, warm skin of your neck and kissed all the way from just below your ear to the point of your shoulder. As I went your head fell back against me and I knew without looking that your eyes would be closed and your mouth half open as you enjoyed the attention. My left hand cupped your right breast and the other slipped down to the cleft between your thighs. Slowly I pulled the fabric up with my fingers, bunching the fabric in my hand until I could touch the moist silk of your knickers. With quiet insistence my fingers slipped inside and entered you. With a firm beckoning movement forward and back deep inside I brought you to climax; feeling you melt inside as the sensations overwhelmed you. After, you turned to face me and we kissed, deeply, slowly. Your hand pushed into my jeans and wrapped around the hard pole inside, wanking me steadily in rhythm with the searching of your tongue in my mouth.

"Time to find the boat," I said finding speech difficult. Your look of undisguised want made it plain that you knew what would happen when we got there.

Safely ensconced in our own haven I undressed you and laid you down on our bunk. I crawled over the top of you kissing, tasting. Your hand moved between us and guided me into you. Joined.

My eyes swept over the delicate lines of your neck, shoulders, collarbones, chest, breasts. Breasts. Sometimes when making love with you my mind fixates on one part of your body. It might be your kissable lips, your smooth legs, your delectable arse or the swollen folds of your sex. Right then it was your breasts. With my hands pushing your arms up beside your head, your pretty, pale tits were suddenly the epicentre of my world. As my hips slowly rocked my hardness a few cm back and forth into you I gazed with new eyes at every nuance of their shape and form. My head dropped toward them, first brushing my lips up the smooth path of your sternum. Then across the soft top of the left breast and around the outside. Back to the inside curve and over to the right twin. I allowed myself a flick of the tongue against the now engorging peak of a nipple, just one, eliciting a little gasp.

I knew the undersides would be more sensitive and I wanted to linger on those most lovely curves. This was making love. With intensity and sensitivity our bodies were talking a profound language in contact with one another.

My lips met the undercurve on one side, kisses melding into licks and then the drawing in of a mouthful of soft flesh. Teeth just pressing, a tinge of urgency, a hint, but no more, of pain to give the waves of pleasure coursing through you an edge. I replicated each action on the other side, hoping that the anticipation of knowing what one was to receive would roll into the anticipation of the next unknown step on the other.

As the intensity of my oral assault on you grew so my thrusts filled you with growing strength. By the time I clamped my mouth over one straining nipple and half the breast you were on the edge. As I sucked it in and pressed the flat of my tongue hard across that rubbery bullet it hit you. Your hands gripped my head, your legs wrapped tight around my bum and the spasms of your sex rippled around my deep-seated rod.

"Oh my God, Zach, fuck, coming, yesss..."

"You do have such lovely tits Jo. And those nipples..." For a long while you simply looked at me in glazed abandon before that sunshine smile spread across your face.

"Oh baby. I'm glad you like them. And you are so full of wonderful crap."

For some reason that moment was the trigger for lust to take the lead from love in their eternal dance.

I hooked the backs of your knees over my biceps. Your thighs pushed high and wide, trapping you, pinning you open to the mercy of my blunt ended weapon. Your chin tilted up, throat bared, eyes almost closed as my lust visibly leached into you.

Sensitive love making morphed seamlessly into fucking. The ever so deep thrusts of my cock that must have been banging against your cervix would, in other circumstances, be uncomfortably painful but in lust's grip simply fueled the flames. The muffled grunts hinted that the breath was being knocked from you. Your hands gripped my upper arms, nails cut in until suddenly, when the pounding reached a frenzy, they switched to the cheeks of my arse, desperately clawing, trying to pull me even deeper inside as you fell. You did fall, over that cliff of ecstasy into the maelstrom of physical and mental sensations. I pushed as hard as humanly possible giving you the fullness you craved and the pressure on your clit that kept the kaleidoscope whirling. As I felt your body begin to quiet, I gave two more solid thrusts and released body and soul into you. As silently as it had appeared, lust slunk off, eyes flashing, into the shadow of the warm glow of love. Not rivals but forever entwined.

Sleep claimed us long before dawn found us spooned together, naked under the duvet. Although very early, I extricated myself and sat quietly in the cockpit whilst the kettle boiled. Making enough coffee for a couple of mugs each I put most into a flask for when you stirred and drank mine in deep contemplation as the seabirds noisily greeted the sun. The warm glow visibly spreading down the walls of the citadel beside us as the sun rose above the eastern horizon.

My reverie was eventually broken a long time later by the feel of you slipping in behind and pulling me back into your embrace.

"Good morning hun."

"Hi gorgeous. There's coffee in the flask when you want some."

A walk ashore allowed us to gather some fresh food and some little gifts for the children back home. After paying our dues at the harbour office we slipped our moorings and made sail for Alderney. The wind had rather more northerly in it than was comfortable although also more strength to it than the day before. We would make reasonable speed but it would be a bit wet. Mind you, shipping the sea onto the deck is so much more palatable when the sun shines and the temperature is well into the 20s.

"Hold on to your hat gorgeous, this is going to be a sleigh ride," I declared, as we punched our way out of the harbour under engine.

Petrel soon settled into the groove under her reefed main and no.2 jib, shouldering the sea aside, throwing up a plume of spray every so often that swept across. Mostly though, the hood and dodgers did their job. On the tiller I got a face full when a big one hit us but whilst the cool water induced a shiver the sun soon compensated and I remained defiant in t-shirt and shorts. I could feel your eyes on me from out of the wind and spray with your back to the bulkhead under the hood. After a while you came and joined me, sitting beside me up on the windward cockpit coaming. You sat to the stern of me and ducked behind me each time a bucket of spray flew at us. Your arms wrapped around me and I could feel your body pressed against my back. As Petrel plunged and crashed through the waves we both yelled and shrieked with exhilaration.

Whilst it was great fun for a while, I decided that it might be wise to stage the trip to Alderney in two legs with a stop off at Herm. The forecast was set for the wind to remain from the western half of the compass so an overnight at anchor on the east coast of Herm would be comfortable. Some four hours after leaving St Malo we had left Jersey to starboard and were closing on Jethou and Herm. The sea had smoothed considerably with the bulk of Guernsey standing between us and the wind. The sun and breeze left us salt encrusted from the drying spray. I left you on the helm and dropped below to grab a rudimentary lunch of bread and cheese.

The afternoon found us anchored among other boats off Shell Beach. Most would be leaving before long to return to Guernsey. We went ashore in the dinghy to stretch the legs a bit, walking hand in hand to the northern end of the island along the soft, pale sand.

Dinner was steak, grilled over a fire on the beach after everyone else had gone for the night. As the fire subsided to embers we lay on our backs in a T shape, your head on my stomach, looking up at the stars emerging against the darkening sky. As we marveled the only sound was the gentle hiss of the waves on the sand.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Funnily enough we didn't make love that night, not physically at any rate but I'd never felt closer to you.

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Another early start, the wind had again picked up as if also woken by the sun. It whistled in the rigging and made Petrel tug impatiently at her anchor chain. Water boiled for coffee and toast made, I doused the stove and we weighed anchor without need to start the donkey. More west in the wind made Alderney a fast passage away with the tide under us after the first hour or so.

Petrel was in her element, romping along. The wind continued to gain strength and I was anxious that we should soon be tucked up in Braye Harbour. We passed through the Swinge between Alderney and Burhou surfing on the wave fronts with the mainsail double reefed. This was going to be more than the forecast Force 5-6 I fancied. Indeed, as you held us head to wind in the shelter of the Admiralty breakwater, whilst I dropped the sails, I heard the shipping forecast warn of imminent gales in Wight, Portland, Plymouth. Not a moment too soon.

The mooring buoys in Braye are substantial, no fears of dragging an anchor. I set doubled up lines and let myself relax. We would be safe here but how long would we have to stay?

Through the afternoon the wind howled with increasing ferocity. As the tide rose so the waves began to break over the top of the massive Victorian breakwater. There was no reason to worry but the power of nature was awe inspiring. We called up the water taxi to take us ashore. A brisk walk out to the beginning of the wall protecting our ship had us standing leaning into the wind and peppered with the spray, flying like bullets almost horizontally at us. Five minutes of that was quite enough and we turned tail for the little town of St Anne on the hill. I happened to know there was a good Indian restaurant on the main street and tucked up in a little booth with a Rogan Josh and a pint seemed the perfect way to sit out a gale. As it happened a few other yacht crews had had the same idea and we entered into the communal spirit of the place. A few pints later, a bottle of wine in your case and well fed we walked merrily back down to the harbourside laughing and joking arm in arm. Back on board a glass of port or two in the cockpit listening to the roar of the wind above us seemed appropriate. Finally we dragged ourselves down to bed, happily drunk. Yes, we made love. Glorious, noisy, drunken sex, drowned out by the gale.

It wasn't an early start the next day.

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It seemed sensible to wait out the residual effects of the gale the next day rather than subject ourselves to a battering in the still towering waves. So we set off on a walk around the island. Our tour took in the fortifications from the ages, Napoleonic through to the German occupation of World War II, and the bleak headlands. Saye Bay and its sandy beach facing South and drenched in the renewed sunshine was the perfect place to go for a swim and then eat our picnic. We sat, happy in the peace, and read our books. Occasionally breaking off for a kiss or to reapply sunscreen to each other, a process that possibly took longer than strictly necessary. Lying on your front, propped on your elbows, topless you were a picture from my fondest imaginings. Golden. Gorgeous. My girl.

It was surprisingly late by the time we gathered our few things and set off back to Petrel. I packed a bag so we could go for a shower and then straight to the restaurant 'The First and Last' which was just there by the harbour. Outside the shower block I surprised you by following you in.

"Zach!" You protested but the your sudden excitement was clear.

"Sorry, but I can't go without a shower together for any longer. Just keep quiet." I grinned. "If you can."

Naked under the plentiful hot water we slipped into a familiar ritual. Familiar maybe, but not lacking the ability to thrill and evoke powerful memories and emotions. We soaped each other, exploring each other's bodies with affection. As the water cascaded down I pushed you against the stainless handrail and dropped to my knees before you. Kissing and licking my way up the inside of your right thigh I lifted it up and out over my shoulder, opening you to my questing mouth. I savoured your taste, a taste I could never tire of. My lips, tongue and teeth exploring the swiftly swelling folds of your sex. I lifted you from the floor, sliding your back up the smooth white tiles. Your arms locked straight behind you for support on the bar, my left hand under your buttock, fingers playing with the cleft of your arse. I sucked on your impossibly plump lips, my eager tongue playing across the engorged flesh. Over the sound of the splashing water I could hear your rising passion, now oblivious to our location. My fingers impaled you deeply, remorselessly, insisting on your release. Dropping you to the floor I had you bend forward, clutching the steel bar. Taking firm hold of your hips I fucked you, driving my cock repeatedly into your clutching cunt. Hard, straight, ceaseless pounding. Then I gathered you in my arms, kissing, touching, cleaning you all over again.

"Hungry?"

"Ravenous."

"What about food?"

"I think you've given me an appetite." And there, again, were the smiles on both our faces.

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The wind had been blowing straight down the Channel for 48 hours and whilst the gale had passed the breeze remained strong. Petrel bucked uncomfortably in the confused seas in the entrance to Braye and through the strong tidal stream close to Alderney's north shore. We were fully dressed for the occasion and tethered to the ship by our harnesses. I knew you would be apprehensive in this sudden exposure to the raw power of the sea but it would ease as we sailed clear of the land and the regular pattern of the waves asserted themselves without interference.