The Boat Ch. 01

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She gets more than she bargained for on a beach vacation.
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She wakes up on something soft and luxurious under her body, her bare breasts and legs lying warm against it.

She raises herself to her elbows – her breasts swaying such that only her nipples brush across the softness, which her waking mind vaguely identifies as fur. Her slightly opened eyes can see its colour – white or light beige – in the dim light surrounding her.

"No," she remembers saying to the cute, young guy buying her drinks at the bar in the harbour, "I'm no vegan - I like meat!" She remembers winking at him then, excitedly wondering how far she would go this night, her eyes briefly flitting over the front of his jeans, searching for signs of stiffness there.

Her peripheral vision widens as she opens her eyes, still swaying on her elbows, still softly brushing her nipples over the fur she finds herself prone on. She becomes aware of legs in the dimness, toes all pointed towards her, resting against some seating surrounding her.

She remembers being surprised the drinks were going to her head so fast – she attributed it to the cuteness of the guy.

"You like all kinds of meat?" the guy had asked, winking back.

"Well," she'd said, licking her lips, "tell me what you have in mind."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he'd asked then.

Lights go on – spotlights on a low ceiling above her – and she gasps as she raises herself to her knees in a circle of nude men sitting on seating against the curving wall of a tight, oblong lounge. She sways slightly in their midst, wearing only her champagne panties, on her knees on a fur in the centre of the seating surrounding her. All the men have erections – some of them lazily stroking their penises with a hand as they sit back, gazing at her.

"Wha... wha...?" she stammers, struggling to her feet. The men stay unmoved, watching her.

"Where am I!" she cries then, heading for stairs going upwards from the only break in the seating at one end of the lounge, the room seeming to tilt and sway as she moves.

A man meets her at the bottom of the stairs, holding up his hands.

"What's going on?" she whines, reaching up to push her way past him.

The man places his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Where you headed, baby?" the man says, with a slight eastern European accent, "you forget what you came here for?"

"I didn't come here," she answers, her eyes widening, "I don't know how I'm here, but now I want my clothes and I want to go back to my hotel!"

"Not yet, baby," the man says, "first it's got to happen." He grins at her.

"I, I don't understand," she stammers, her voice shaking.

"You knew this was how it was going to happen, right?" the man asks, still grinning. He runs the tips of his fingers from her shoulders down her arms, letting his hands drop to his side with a shrug.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she nearly whispers, her voice not wanting to leave the safety of her throat.

"Oh, I think you do," the man answers, nodding his head and grinning, "how else would it happen?"

She licks her lips. "OK," she says, "just let me out, OK?"

"But there's no place to go, baby," the man answers, "You're on a boat – don't you remember?"

She remembers a boat – she was leaning on the shoulder of the cute guy, going past the boats at a pontoon in the marina, barely able to walk by herself.

She comes back to herself, spitting "what do you want with me?" at the man still standing in front of her. He raises his palms to her, as if supplicating.

"We want to help you get back to shore," he says, smiling, "you want that don't you?"

"Yes..." she stammers, feeling the tilt of the room again, realizing it's not in her head – she is all too sober now – but is the heaving of a boat in the waves.

"Well that's easy," the man says, still smiling, "you only need to blow every man in this room."

The men, although silent anyway, seem to become even more silent in the moments that follow.

"What? Blow?" she murmurs finally, barely registering her words herself. She runs her fingers through her hair, taking a step away from the man in the stairs, realizing she has stepped back into the circle of men, takes a half step forward, indecisively turning to and fro such that her breasts sway prettily back and forth.

Then she strides forward and strikes at the man on the stairs, but he catches her wrist in a firm grip, holding it for a second before letting it drop, her arm falling limply as she cowers in front of him.

"And you have to let each one of us cum in your mouth, baby," the man says, smiling even more broadly now, "once you're done with the last of us, we'll take you back to shore again – with a present if you've been a really good girl."

Like in a dream, she moves towards him, trying to pass him, so expectant of resistance that she slinks slowly past him, the naked skin of her back sliding against him as she squeezes herself past and goes up the stairs, picking up speed as she leaves the room behind her.

She emerges on the deck of a boat under a starry, moonless night. The night air presses cold against skin, giving her goosebumps, making her nipples stand out at the tips of her breasts. She runs to the railing and looks out at the sea, barely making out the waves in the starlight. The horizon between the sea and the stars is nevertheless clearly visible, and she sees no sign of land, though there is light on the horizon in one direction. She turns towards it.

"That's just the sunrise coming," the man from the stairway says, having come out onto the deck behind her, "there's no place to go right now – just come downstairs. You knew how this was going to go down anyway, so why not just let it happen?"

She guides herself along the railing, moving towards the rear of the yacht, away from the man.

"Yes, I have a boyfriend, but he's faaar away," she remembers telling the cute guy in the bar in the harbour, "so, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Maybe I have a few," the cute guy had said, slinking a hand across the bar and stroking her wrist with his fingertips. He had been so gentle. "Are you a good girlfriend?"

"Oh yeah," she had said, coyly taking his hand from her wrist and setting it back on the bar – but not without stroking his wrist briefly herself as she withdrew her hand.

"Do you mean it?" the guy had said, a certain tension – like a stiffness – coming into his voice. Her gaze flitted back to the front of his jeans and she felt a warmth rising in herself.

She smiled and looked away then, slightly rolling her eyes. "Oh I think I'm a pretty good girlfriend, yeah," she'd said.

"Baby, it's not like it's not something you do for your boyfriend anyway," she now hears the man call behind her on the yacht. She reaches the end of the railing a few steps from the yacht's aft platform.

She remembers jumbled talk about girlfriends and boyfriends – and more drinks. The cute guy's hand had been back on her wrist again, stroking, but now close enough to rest his other hand on her knee.

"So if your boyfriend really needs to feelgood," the cute guy had asked, "I bet you know what to do, don't you?"

She had leaned in then, feeling the excited warmth rise in her breast, warming her throat and making her face tingle, her mouth tingle. "I suck his dick if that's what you mean," she had said, trying to keep her voice down in her excitement, unable to raise her eyes to his but smiling uncontrollably, looking at his boots perched on the barstool rungs below them. "I suck him off whenever he wants it," she said.

He gently placed a finger under her chin and raised her face up to his. "But how do you know when you're finished?" he'd asked.

She had laughed then, rolling her eyes. "Um..." she'd said, "you know..."

"Tell me," he'd said, the stiffness in his voice tensed like a spring.

She leaned in more, looking down. It was then she saw the stiffness she'd been looking for before clearly etched in the guy's jeans inches below her. "I know it when his cum spurts all over my mouth and down my throat," she'd whispered.

"What?" they guy whispered back, leaning in himself – over her head – whispering into her ear from above, "I can't hear you."

"I know it when his cum spurts in my mouth and down my throat," she said louder then.

"What?" he'd repeated, grabbing her head with both hands and holding her face to his.

"When he cums down my throat," she said looking him in the eyes.

"Come on, Baby," the man on the yacht says– now just behind her, "come do what you do for your boyfriend all the time – this times it's just a lot all at once, but it's just as nice."

"I want to suck your cock tonight," she remembers whispering into the cute guy's ear later, while he had fairly carried her along beside the boats in the marina. "I want to taste your cum," she'd said.

That's what I do for boyfriends,she thinks to herself then,what's happening here is not what I came for.

She jumps in the water then, set on swimming towards the light on the horizon. She takes some strokes, but the open water in the night is nothing like on the sunny beach. The cold shock of the water clamps on her chest, the blood surging from her insides to her arms and legs, but bringing no warmth.

She kicks and strokes furiously then, feeling her blood pump, feeling her muscles awaken. But the swell of the water is much greater out here than at the beach, and the swimming is already slow, clumsy going.

She continues swimming, but it's not long before the initial surge of adrenalin starts to wear off, and the water seems even colder than when she jumped in – a numbness coming into her fingers and toes. The water seems very dark now – even the low swell towering over her bobbing head.

She hears the throbbing of the yachts motors spring to life behind her. The ray of a spotlight flits across the water in front of her.It was warm in the lounge of the yachtshe finds herself thinking, realizing justthinkingit makes her arms and leg even colder, even more numb.

She flounders in the water, turning herself and seeing she has hardly distanced herself from the yacht at all. It is turning slowly, not in pursuit but rather coming around to patiently follow her. The spotlight on the yacht flits right over her and then shoots back on her, treading in the water. The yacht approaches slowly, and from in the glare of the spotlight comes a lifesaver attached to a rope, which splashes in the water within reach. She turns to swim away, but already on the first, feeble stroke the hopeless of her situation overwhelms her.

Maybe it won't be so bad,she finds herself thinking. She tries to put the thought out of her mind but the warmth of the lounge beckons, and her arm reaches for the lifesaver on its own accord. She is pulled gently to a rope ladder that's been let down from the glare of the spotlight as well, which she finds herself climbing, finally feeling the strong arms of the man from the stairs gently taking her under her arms and lifting her onto the deck of the yacht.

She shivers on the deck, the cool night air taking what's left of the strength in her legs and she finds herself swaying against the man, leaning on him.

"It's OK," the man says, stroking her shoulders, "nobody's mad at you. Come on down – we're all waiting for you where it's warm."

She teeters finding her way down the stairs, appearing in the entry of the lounge, shivering, hugging herself tightly. The man on the stairs behind her gently but firmly gasps her wrists from behind and above her and draws them upwards, fully extending her arms. There she stands, exposed, dripping wet and nearly naked, her breasts drawn and taught against her chest, her nipples standing tight and erect. The men murmur in appreciation – some of them clap briefly.

"Can I have a towel?" she asks.

"Sure, baby," the man from the stairway says behind her, "after you suck the first guy off you get to dry off."

"But I need atowel," she insists, starting to turn, but unable with her hands still gripped by the man from the stairs. He responds simply by bringing her further into the lounge.

A short, wiry, bald man – naked except for a red foot-baller's T-shirt – stands up, swiftly stroking his penis with one hand. She remembers he is one of the men who has been stroking himself more or less constantly whenever she has looked at him.

The man says something in a foreign language. All the men laugh - the man from the stairs as well. He puts his hands on her shoulders, pressing her down to her buckling knees gently as the man in the T-shirt takes a seat next to her. "Oskar here is all ready for you," he says, "he won't take long and then you get your towel."

She thinks of the cute guy in the harbour and how this wiry little man compares to him. Then sheseesthe cute guy sitting among the men, smiling at her from the other side of the room. Now he's just in line like the others, the stiffness she admired in his jeans now plainly standing between his splayed, naked legs.

At least this guy will be quickshe thinks, kneeling and turning towards the hard spike of the wiry man's penis reaching just up to her chin. She pauses there, thinkingis this really happening?

Oskar reaches out then and grabs the back of her head, pulling her face down on his penis, which mashes against her lips as she screws up her face, expecting the stink of his genitals.

The man from the stairs places a hand on Oskar's, reducing the pressure to her head. He says something to Oskar, and Oskar's hand lies more gently on the back of her head then, but is not taken away.

The men are again silent. The room is dimmed again, but a bright spotlight in the ceiling directly above her is focussed right on her head, hovering over Oskar's penis.At least it doesn't smell,she notices,actually, I think he's put cologne down there.

Oh well, here goes...she thinks, opening her mouth and engulfing as much of Oskar's penis as she can. A common sigh of satisfaction goes up from the group of men around her – especially from Oskar, who immediately splays his legs and tenses his hips in a way that tells her he will indeed not be long at all.

As she sucks him, Oskar starts thrusting his penis upwards – once so abruptly that it brushes the back of her throat and she gags, but cannot pull her head away due to his hand on her neck. The man from the stairs makes a quiet comment and Oskar's thrusts become more subdued – though she can feel the tension growing in the piece of meat sliding in and out of her mouth.

The room is almost silent for a bit except for comments the other men are murmuring to each other. She feels Oskar's semen climb up the stiff shaft of his penis, swelling in her mouth, higher and higher. Then she feels the very head of Oskar's penis start to swell and hears him gasp. She remembers how she does her boyfriend, and pulls up on Oskar's penis, sucking furiously at the same time, closing the back of her throat. For almost a minute, the room is silent except for the wet, plunging sound of his penis pistoning in her mouth.

That's when she feels the cum explode from Oskar's penis into her mouth, spurting against the back of her tongue jammed against the back of her throat, washing back over her teeth, nearly filling her mouth already with the first pulse.

This is really happening,she thinks then,oh yeah, this is real all right.She feels Oskar pulling on his hand, trying to mash her head down on his still throbbing penis, but can tell that the man from the stairs has grabbed his wrist. The pressure is still enough that she cannot pull up, but has to let Oskar's throbbing penis pulse shot after shot of his warm cum into her mouth. She relaxes her lips around his shaft and lets the cum dribble out of her mouth, down his shaft, to form a white puddle at the base of his penis, white rivulets seeping from there down the inside of his thighs, past his anus and dripping onto the seat.

The room remains silent. Soon, the man from the stairs asks something, but Oskar does not answer, as the last of his semen spills out of the tip of his penis. The acidic taste that first filled her mouth is drowned out entirely, and she tastes nothing, her mouth tingles from the excitement of the disgrace.

The man asks again, Oskar gasps an answer as his hand falls limply away from her neck. She sits up immediately – still kneeling – and wipes the last drops of Oskar's cum from her lips with the back of her hand. The men around her voice their appreciation, some reaching to stroke her back, her breasts, but the man from the stairs warns them away (probably telling them to wait their turn, she thinks).

Now she gets her towel – first her face, spitting and drooling into it – then (finally!) towelling down her wet body. Somebody pours her a shot of whisky into a thick, heavy glass, which she downs in one gulp, but then she starts to shiver uncontrollably, and the man from the stairs helps her up – pointedly telling the men something as he leads her from the lounge.

He opens a door at the side of the stairway and leads her into the yacht's head. There he helps her slip out of her cold, wet champagne panties, leads her into a shower and presses her to one side as he makes sure the water is running hot from the showerhead. He asks her if the temperature is right. He leaves her in the shower, going back through the still open door of the stairway and exclaiming something to the men in the lounge. She hears them all laughing as the door closes behind him.

First she simply stands under the warm flow of the shower with her mouth open, leaving the water wash it out and flow over her breast, tummy and legs, slowly revolving and finally bending her head and letting the water flow over her head and shoulders, down her back, over her bottom and down the back of her legs. Her shivering subsides and she enjoys the warmth of the water and the steam rising from the water into the air around her. She tries to empty her mind entirely.After all,she thinks,I did come back on my own.

She is in there a while when the door opens again. It is the man from the stairway, but now he is also naked. He strides to the shower, opens the door, and steps in, pressing himself against her. She pushes back against him, but feels his embrace and finds her knees buckling on their own accord. He presses on her shoulders, adjusting the water flow more behind her, and she finds herself once against kneeling in front of a stiff, erect penis, though this time it is more at face height.

Well, at least I'll be able to rinse my mouth out right away,she thinks, as he guides his penis between her lips.

The man from the stairs is more controlled than Oskar was, but also farther from climax. She can feel his penis slightly pliable in her mouth, but finds herself actually enjoying bringing the stiffness to it with her sucking. In fact, the penis of the man from the stairs turns rock-like in her mouth after a time. It becomes so erect that she cannot kneel down on her legs, but must raise herself a bit, craning her head over his upward straining penis as she sucks on it.

She is allowed to suck his penis at her own pace for a bit, though after a while she feels him start to thrust with his pelvis. He takes her hand and puts it on the base of his penis, but when she starts to stroke the shaft he places her hand firmly at the base again, and indicates that he wants her to pull it down to point straight ahead. He pushes her against the side of the shower now, thrusting his penis straight into her mouth as she holds it at its base, pinning her head to the shower wall, shielding her from the spray with his body.

His penis slides in and out of her mouth easily, with not only her spit but the flow of the shower lubricating his penetration. His thrusting becomes more urgent, and she feels the swelling climb from the base quickly now. The wet sound of her suction becoming so loud it can be heard above the sound of the shower, probably even by the men masturbating in the lounge. She feels shivers running through his legs, but for a different reason than her own legs before, knowing it is pure pleasure he is experiencing.He's raping my mouth,she reminders herself, but part of her enjoys his pleasure all the same.

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