Sailing Away Ch. 21

The men running the boat seem to be OK with my bright nail polish, or they're just doing the best they can to ignore it. The former seems more likely, as they interact with me rather than shunning me.

I top off Gustavo's coffee, while he digs into the quiche I made. You two aren't up yet, so he and I eat. I know what you're eating at the moment... so I just leave the quiche in the warming drawer. The kitchen is every bit the match for the yacht.

Pouring, I say "sounds like you enjoyed yourself with Elsa last night."

Sheepishly he replies, "She is a beautiful girl... and seemed interested."

"Oh she was very interested. Interested enough she wants you again." I sip on my café au lait. "And so does Lacy." I sit down on the opposite side of the table, and dig into my own slice. Since we're in the galley and it's intended for crew, it's almost like a picnic bench, but well appointed and fastened to the floor, as is almost everything shipboard.

"Really?" The Italian accent is there, but not prominent.

"Very. She was obviously interested when Elsa was telling us what you did with her. They'd both like to have some time with you."

"And you are OK with this? Does not bother you?"

I shook my head, "no not a bit. I enjoy them enjoying themselves, regardless of who or how. They're sexy women...how could I keep them to myself? Lacy and Elsa have been dating on and off for years, I'm the relative newcomer."

"But...don't you get...jealous?"

"No. Well, rarely. Our relationship is trusting enough that it's not an issue. Besides, I enjoy hearing about her adventures, and now that Elsa's here, I like hearing about hers too."

I hear the galley door open, and you and Elsa come in. You both look like you've been fucking, tousled hair on you, dreamy orgasmic eyes on her. You're both wearing sheer black silk robes, courtesy of the ship's owner.

Walking over to me, you both stand on opposite sides and lean down to kiss my cheeks. I turn to Elsa for a kiss on the mouth, then you, and we all say good morning to each other. Elsa sits with me on my side of the table, you go sit next to Gus with a cheery "good morning Chief Engineer Gustavo."

"Good morning, ladies."

Knowing you'd be along soon, I'd already put out mugs, creamer and sugar on the table. I quietly perform my duties by pouring and preparing coffee for you both, then getting a quiche from the warming drawer and cutting, then plating it for you both.

"Thank you, babe" you say, raising a fork for a taste. "Wonderful as usual... no wonder you make such good quiche."

I look at you quizzically, "why's that?"

You swallow your bite and chase it with a sip of coffee. "Because real men don't eat quiche, sweetie, let alone make it."

Gus almost spews his coffee.

"So what do you call me?" he asks with a furrowed brow.

"Are you a real man?" You slide your left hand into his lap and take another sip of your coffee with your right. "MMMmmmmm, you most certainly are. Elsa was right." I can see your hand stroking him through his shorts.

You lean over and whisper something in his ear. Gustavo looks about nervously, to me, then to Elsa. We're both smiling, I'm trying to concentrate on breakfast. We're all hungry, you for something not on the table, but definitely on the menu.

"I should get back to the engine room." Gus takes his plate and coffee and gets up from the table.

Calling to him, "Gustavo, sweetie," and he turns around. Giving him the universal sign for blowjob, stroking your hand and tonguing your cheek, "CUM back soon." Gus almost scrambles out of the galley.

"What did you say to him?" I ask.

"I told him 'I can take your cock in mouth, ass, or pussy.'"

"Mistress, you are incorrigible." I blow you a kiss, then sip my coffee.

"Of course I am. Now. What should we do today? I was thinking of seeing if we could stop in Astoria. Elsa and I can go for massages, and you can come along, or have a free day for yourself."

Elsa seconds this idea, "Mani pedi day in Avalon was great, but I could definitely use a massage."

"Let's go check with Brian and see if we can do it."

You two saunter off to the bridge, holding hands, coffee mugs in the other, while I clean the galley's dishes. By the time I'm done, you've returned, telling me we have a two-hour ETA since we're just off Cannon Beach. We'll arrive in Astoria about 1pm, and we've been cleared by the harbormaster to moor outside the Astoria Yacht Club, the only place we can tie up due to the length of our boat. You also let me know you've found a few spas that may be doable for an impromptu visit.

Elsa returns to her cabin, and we to ours, so you can both shower and get ready to go.

Since we are essentially the crew, there's no steward to straighten our room, so I set to this while you get undressed, picking up our clothes from the night before, placing pillows back on the loveseat. Peeling off your panties, you step into the en suite bathroom, leaving your phone on the bed. Unlocked.

Now this was a bit awkward. My phone was not allowed to be locked, as you always want access to it, and I am not allowed that privacy. You trust me to be faithful and your confirmation is constant opportunity to see my phone. The opposite doesn't apply - I'm not allowed to see yours at all, and you have it thumbprint locked unless using it. This keeps me from seeing your list of ideas for me, as well as the variety of lover's messages you keep.

I know I only have seconds before it locks itself. I grab it, and touch the screen to keep it awake.

Now what?

I flick through your messages quickly, nothing terribly surprising there. Looks like you've got Brian messaging you off and on when he's on duty. I see messages from other lovers, but none in the last few days. One comes in from an unknown number.

There isn't long before you're out of the shower. I need a plan, or I need to put it down.

An idea forms quickly, and I open your Contacts, and pick one I recall, a former lover who lives in Portland. I key his number into my own phone quickly, then wipe yours clean and set it down on the bed from where I took it. Hopefully you won't notice.

Placing the phone on the duvet, I hear you shut off the shower, the only real sound left being the low frequency diesel rumble of the main engines.

Otherwise naked, you come out from the bathroom rubbing your hair with a towel.

"What would my bitch like to do today? The choice is yours."

"Well, Mistress, since I only got a couple of hours of sleep, I'm thinking I may rest for a few more and then see what comes next. Even if I just putter around the boat, that would be fine. We're still on vacation after all."

"That sounds good to me." Picking out a pair of lace thong panties, much like you have me wear, you slide them on and pick up your phone. "Oh good, the Cannery Pier Spa has booked me and Elsa at 1:30 today. Massage, facial, seaweed wrap. That'll take a few hours. Odd, it looks like I already looked at the message. Strange."

I cringe internally. I may have given myself away - I must have hit the message so it didn't have an 'unread' icon by it. Shit.

You drop your phone, finish drying your hair and put the towel on the rack in the bathroom, and proceed to pick out a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals. You're ready with an hour left, and we're starting to make the turn east into the Columbia River. Taking a can of Hansen's soda from the fridge in our room, you take a quick look through your purse, and confirm you're ready. Elsa knocks twice, then lets herself in.

Bold. Brash even. Compared to what she's wearing today, the crop top and yoga pants she wore when she arrived seems positively conservative.

Looking like a star from an 80s hip hop video, she's the essence of female sex. White button shirt, tied at the waist, captive rings obvious through her bra and shirt. Tan shorts that deserve the moniker 'booty'. And white hiking socks pulled down on top of low tan construction boots, boots that have never seen construction, unless it was someone drilling her pussy while she wore them.

If I weren't caged, it'd be obvious. She's scorching hot. Apparently you agree, with a "wow, you're delicious in that, babe. The guys will be looking at you for sure. And me too!"

She leans toward you, kisses you on the cheek with a smile, and then dips into her purse for a final touch of merlot lip gloss.

I tell Elsa I'm going to try and nap for a bit, having such little sleep the night before, and she kisses me goodbye. You do the same, and then head out the door, darkening our cabin.

I give it about fifteen minutes, ensuring you haven't forgotten something from our suite, then take my phone from the bedside table.

I poke around on Google, Google Maps, Yelp, and a couple of other resources, and then come up with a plan. Phone numbers and URLs in hand, I set off to execute it. It's taken about 45 minutes to figure it all out, the diesels have slowed, and we are tying up to the pier. Once we're down to generators, I make the next move, knowing you're on your way to the spa.

With the magic of the internet, I know that the spa is only about a mile away from the pier. And it has a five star hotel surrounding it.

First, I make a phone call. The hotel is only too glad to help, and a suite is booked in your name this afternoon... But with my credit card.

Second, I go back to the number I surreptitiously swiped from your phone earlier. The number I took from your phone is Kevin, a former lover with whom you're on good terms. He's definitely your kind of guy - 6'2", 200 or so pounds, confident, friendly, financially well off, funny, cute...single. With a 10" cock.

Oh, and he's as black as a moonless night.

You've orgasmed with me many times describing what he's done for you. More specifically what his cock has done for you. And what I don't, since my cock is locked, and his is nearly a foot long.

By this time you're checking into the spa, leaving your phone behind in a locker. I key a message into my phone.

Kevin. This is Lacy's boyfriend. Are you still in Portland? May have a favor to ask.

A few minutes go by then the ellipsis icon shows on my phone, a message pending delivery.

I am still in Portland, yes. Not much going on today. What's your favor? How's Lacy?

Kevin owns a pair of Honda dealerships, one in Portland, one in Vancouver. Seemingly pedestrian, but lucrative and offers some flexibility in his work.

Tap tap.

She's well. And she'd like to see you. Long story, but we're in Astoria today, is there any chance you're available? I'm committed to some business today, and I know she'd love to visit with you.

See, he doesn't know I'm your panty-wearing cuckold bitch, so he has no idea what my business might be. He just knows he loves your pussy and he hasn't had it in quite a while.

Funny you message, I'm off today and not much going on. What's got her in Astoria?

Do I tell him? No, let's make it a surprise.

Long story, hard to text. If you'd like to see her we can set it up.

I don't have to wait long.

Surely. I can be there in about 90 minutes. Where and when?

It's going perfectly.

She'll be in Suite 340 at the Cannery Pier Hotel. She's at the spa now. 5 o'clock will be perfect.

I'll be there. Anything I should bring?

Do I tell him? In for a penny, in for a pound.

Your 10" cock. Hard. She's told me all about it, and definitely wants it tonight.

This time a much longer pause before the response. Did I scare him off?

I'll be there.

The main diesels have been off now about 30 minutes. By now you're undressed, showered, and taking part in your couples massage with Elsa.

Now for the next part of my plan.

I get out of bed and dress quickly, checking my wallet for my plastic, and a full charge on the phone. I wish I was free of the fuchsia nail polish, but it can't be helped. At least they match my panties today. I head up to the bridge and ask Alan if he knows if I can get a car without having to go through the hassles of a rental.

"Oh sure. Just like private aviation FBOs have cars, lots of ports have them too. I'll call down to the harbormaster, just go in the main office and they'll assign you one." He doesn't look so good.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, it's just some bad heartburn. Happens now and then. I'll drink some Maalox and be alright. Try not to be too late, Brian wants diesels warming up by 7pm, and us gone by 8pm."

That may be a problem, but I'll work with it. Taking my instructions from Alan, I head off the boat onto the jetty, and down to the main office. Explaining my need, they hand me keys to a Ford Explorer and I'm on my way. Thankfully I brought my Oakleys, as it's an unusually clear day on the Oregon coast.

I open the phone and return to Google Maps. First, a liquor store.

It's only about a mile east, and I find the place, picking up a couple of bottles of champagne I know you like, and a box of glasses. They have singles, or a four-pack, so I get the box knowing there's a need for more than one. Four is the same price as two singles, so may as well. The clerk rings me up, distracted and focused on some sporting event on the radio.

I pay, and return to the SUV, and go to a nearby florist. A dozen red roses should do. With requisite glass vase of course, and a note I enscribe "Mistress, I hope you enjoy. Yours, bitch." The girl behind the counter takes a long look at my nails, then looks me in the eyes, "nice nails." She's about 25, with pixie cut black hair and firm tits behind her shop apron.

Blushing, I thank her.

"That's almost the right color, but a little more pink to your cheeks would do. And some lip gloss. Mascara and eye shadow too, come to think of it. Maybe a wig come too. Blond I think."

"I...may...have some experience with that."

"I hope it's more than some, you'd be hot with all that on."

When I hand her my credit card she holds onto it with me, and runs a finger across mine. While she's running it I reach into the band of my shorts and pull up my fuchsia lace panties.

"I knew it! Those are hot. Just like you." She grabs one of the shop's business cards, signs Tobi with a flourish, and includes it with my receipt. At the door, I look back, and she looks at me with something like lust. I smile broadly, and head out the door, emboldened.

It's coming up on 3pm, you're probably finishing your massage. I keep the pace up, as I've still got a few things to do.

Next stop, a high-end grocer's on the way back toward the port. I select a few artisanal cheeses, and a couple of boxes of various crackers I know you like. May as well grab a small knife and cutting board while I'm at it, not sure what the hotel will have. The college co-ed at the register with the bright green eyes and streaked pink hair comments, with a wry smile, how my nails match her hair color. She blows me a kiss while placing the last item in the bag. I smile and head back to the truck.

I head to the hotel, flowers and groceries in hand, and go to the concierge. Explaining that I'm setting up a treat for my girlfriend, I check in, get the key, and head up to the suite.

It's quite nice, and deserving its 5 stars on Yelp. Exquisite king bed and high thread-count sheets, mammoth windows overlooking the Columbia River and Washington State just beyond the 101 Bridge, flat screen TV, fridge, usual accouterments. I slice some cheese and place it on a plate in the fridge. I still need ice for the champagne.

I take the bucket to the hall and find the ice machine. The elderly woman I pass on the way too it gives me a nasty, disapproving look at my nails. Ignoring her visual opinion, I fill the ice, and return to the suite. I've already had two cute girls give me smiles for my nails, one who looked like she wanted to fuck me...wonder what she'd say about my cock cage... So why should I be bothered by the mean old lady?

Filling the bucket, and placing the first bottle on ice, I place the second in the fridge with the cheese. I wash all four glasses, dry them spotless, and place them by the wine bucket, wrapping a towel around the bottle sommelier style.

I take the grocery bag, box from the glasses, and make a quick look around the room. Now cleaned of trash, the lights left low, I head back to the concierge.

Asking for a note pad, I write the following - "Enjoy, Mistress. I hope you two have a fantastic evening." I then ask him to deliver it in an envelope with a room key to the spa, and ask for the other key to be kept here for Kevin. I accentuate this with a $50 suggestion.

"Of course, I'll be glad to take care of this." His look the epitome of professional, I wonder how often he's had requests like this.

Returning to the truck, I make the last trip of the day to the harbormaster's office, drop off the key, dump the refuse in the recycle bin, and return to the boat.

I make my way back to the boat, where Brian is on duty. He's reading a book since the diesels are silent. I let him know I'm back and the truck has been returned to the harbormaster's office, then I retire to our suite. I flip through the boat's Kaleidescape system on the TV, and select a James Bond movie to while away the time until you meet Kevin.

The phone rings. The end credits are rolling on For Your Eyes Only, and it's dusk outside. I guess I got the nap I said I wanted.

"Hello?"

It's Brian. "Can you swing up to the bridge for a minute?"

"Sure thing. On my way."

Its 7:30, but the boat is quiet, only one of the generators running.

Bleary eyed and half awake, I make it to the bridge. Night sky to the east out the bridge windows, low sun coming in behind us.

"I wanted to tell you in person, we're going to be stuck here until late tomorrow. Alan's appendix has gone bad, he's in the hospital getting it out and can't complete the trip with us. I can't run a boat this size legally without a mate to alternate shifts. Alan will lay up for a day or so, and then return home, we'll be getting another first mate tomorrow from the boat's agency. He'll fly into Portland tomorrow and get a car out here. There's no regular flight service to Astoria." As we're talking, the Domino's guy is coming up the gangplank to deliver to Brian.

I acknowledge the issue, and head back to our quarters, secretly thrilled I don't have to explain why you're late for the 8pm departure.

Entering our suite, I see my phone's screen on. There's voicemail from you that I missed by seconds. I press the button and put it on speaker.

Exuberant sexual moaning in the background is hard to ignore, the UH UH UH UH had to be timed with Kevin's forceful thrusts. "I don't know how you did it, but you're such a good bitch for arranging this. Elsa and I are thoroughly enjoying ourselves with Kevin and his friend's cocks, so don't wait up for us!"

Kevin...and his friend? Wait, friends as in PLURAL?

A message comes through, I click on it.

Must have been taken by Elsa... Because you're on your knees, a mammoth black cock in your pussy from behind, another one deep down your throat. The video is about ten seconds long, both men wildly thrusting in time filling your mouth and twat simultaneously. Your moans are unmistakable, as I've heard similar while you ride my face, but never from my own cock. The camera pans around, your face in profile, a familiar red-nailed hand reaching out to squeeze one of your nipples.

I stare at the screen hoping for more. Nothing further after that.

I flip channels, try a movie or two, skipping the porn because that surely won't help my tightly filled cage, but can't take my mind off the collective cock and pussy show you're experiencing.

About 9:30 I call up to the bridge. "Hey Brian, any of that pizza left?"

"Sure. Grab some beers and come on up."