Unexpected Threesome Ch. 14

It was nice to have got a chance to talk to Ellen about what had happened that morning. To have a girl pass out on you as she climaxes is no small thing and I'd been worried about her all day.

She's the doctor and should know what she's talking about. But still, I wanted to double check.

As for her spin on why it all seemed so intense, and more so what she was feeling, that was interesting. I vaguely recall reading somewhere that two very involved people can feel what the other is feeling in the course of very intense sex; but it was the sort of thing you tend to pass off as bumpkin. Anyhow, while there was something making my experience more intense than even that sort of sex is with the other girls, I wasn't sure I could pin it as precisely as that to some sort of transferred or sympathetic stimulation.

If it happens again maybe I'll pay more attention; although frankly when you're as sexually worked up as that, it's difficult to pay attention to anything more nebulous than the wobbling breasts right under your eyes.

Ellen's cross examining me about what I liked about her bikini was awkward. In a way a guy actually likes to talk about these things, but a life time of experience tells you should shouldn't; at least not with the girl wearing it. You're seriously at risk of being accused of objectifying them; or worse.

And yet in Ellen's usual, matter of fact way she got me to spill my guts on the issue. She almost seemed to like the fact they had that effect on me.

Which is just as well because, frankly, the girls had been doing my head in with the bikinis and other clothes they were wearing; not to mention the way they were carrying on while wearing them. It's as if they were oblivious to the fact that, while I might be old by their standards, I was certainly not immune to the charms of young women like them dressed like that and playing with me and each other as flirtatiously as they do.

I'm not really sure what happened. Before all this started Issie would be running around in the bikinis she had then and it barely registered on me. OK, that's a slight exaggeration, it registered, but not 'down there' if you know what I mean.

But with what the three of them are wearing at the moment, it's like every time they walk past I just grow a boner and feel this sexual urge towards them. It's hard to put a finger on why (an unfortunate turn of phrase for the topic perhaps), but their breasts spilling seductively out of their tops, their nipples pushing out what is clearly unlined material and their pants so tight, low slung and form fitting to every part of what they covered that it was more like they're just changing the colour of what's underneath instead of actually covering it is probably part of it. And I'm sure they're often wiggling their butt at me too.

In a way, it harks back to my youth. In my 20's it would be fair to say young women and girls displayed themselves much more than modern ones; and flaunted it too. Topless bathing, crochet bikinis with nipples poking through the open weave and small triangle string tie bikinis were universal. Even the shyest girls would have the most minimal bikinis.

There seems a much greater range these days, with the average being much more modest than the girls of my youth. While you see the sort of swimwear the girls on my boat are wearing on beaches, it's in the minority; maybe 25%, depending on the beach. So to have all three of them dressed like that is a statistically aberrant bonus.

To make matters more difficult they play around – both with me and each other – more like a group of teenagers first discovering their bodies than the mature young women they are. I mean it's delightful to have an attractive barely dressed girl play a game where she grabs something off you and makes you wrestle her to get it back or do similar things to make you handle her or let her sit on you, but I was probably less than 20 when one last did it regularly to me. And now it's a frequent part of every day.

Maybe it's not surprising that, as the youngest, Ellen has taken over the role from Amy as being the most overtly playful and provocative.

And it's not just with deliberate games.

Ellen, having grown up with yachting parents, is the most useful of the crew when it comes to boat engine issues. A good example came from the fact that late in our first full day at Fare I'd asked her to help me adjust the boat motor controls.

The engine bay is accessed by lifting up the companionway stairs to reveal a long tunnel in which it lies. Although there are some side access panels, none of them were of any help in this case. At the back of the tunnel is the gearbox; on top of which is a lever to which the control lines leading down from the cockpit control lever are attached. Branching off this line is one coming to the front of the motor to control the throttle.

I needed her to lean over the engine and turn the gearbox lever to my commands as I adjusted the throttle into sync with it. A guy working with me would have stood beside me. Not Ellen. Dressed in one of her new bikinis, she stood legs apart, her feet straddling the whole width of the tunnel opening and leaving me to work between them.

It wasn't an illogical thing to do. There was barely room for two people side by side and it gave her a wide comfortable stance as she stood straight legged and then bent from the hip to reach into the back of the tunnel over the engine. But it left my natural line of sight as I worked looking straight up close at the tightly sheathed bulge of her mons; a distinct dimple running through it where her crease lay and the width of the material decidedly inadequate to go from upper thigh to upper thigh – instead leaving two delightful strips of crotch flesh running down either side of it.

To top it off, framing that fairly distracting sight in the background were her breasts as they dangled under their own weight from her horizontal torso in a far too small bikini top.

As I leaned back to apply some straight armed pressure to a spanner trying to shift an uncooperative bolt I found my nose virtually in her bum crack; the pulled in centre hem of the pants pulling the material so that it moulded closely against her cheeks.

Making matters worse was the fact that as we worked I was sure I could see a dampness penetrating the gusset of her pants and that dimple running through the centre of it widening and bulging further. Was she becoming aroused? Was it just wishful thinking on my part or just a bit of sweat in the very warm atmosphere? Whatever it was, I finished the job with a raging erection.

While we were in Fare I'd also picked up my one media indulgence; having sent to the harbour I was in the Saturday edition of my favourite Australian broadsheet newspaper. As a fellow Australian, Ellen was also interested in reading it. But as we sat on the settee to read it, she sat close enough to me to not allow any room between us to put the spare sections of the newspaper and then leaned provocatively across me to effect a change of reading material; letting the tip of her breast slide across the bulge of my cock as she did so and generating a predictable enlarging of it.

At another practical level, the girls seem to play games with me in the seating arrangement around the dining table. It's one of those ones where two bench seats frame the table and are only accessible from one end. They always seem to arrange it so that I'm on the outboard end and instead of giving me a chance to stand and let the person sitting next to me slide through, they're sliding across the top of my lap before I can move; grinding their bum against what they must be able to feel as a rapidly forming erection as they go.

This is nothing new. Off and on, Amy and Issie have done it for a while. It's just that Ellen has made almost a competition of it. According to her the gold standard induced erection is a "full horizontal boner". She likes the word boner and has made it the boat's universal language for it.

By that she means, full as in the whole extended length, hard as a rock and horizontal as in it being held by my swimmers perpendicular to my body, preferably pulling the legs seams of my swimmers away from my thighs so they can see through to my balls, instead of growing vertically as a mere bulge in the front of them that peeks up over the waist band. It's better still if it pulls out the waist band too.

From that base point you get the full range of outcomes. A 'partial, semi boner' is less than fully erect one that is only somewhat horizontal. And it's become a game of theirs' to induce them and categorise them; with applause for a gold standard one. And they're not applauding me, they're applauding the girl who induced it.

At afternoon tea, as we shared some treats I'd bought back from Fare, Ellen slid across me at the table, ground and worked her crotch against mine until she'd got the result she'd wanted and then moved into her position. It hadn't taken her long. Immediately Issie looked under the table to announce...

"Hey Ellen, go girl, you got a full horizontal with a ball dangle."

To everyone's amusement and my slight embarrassment.

And all that's before they even start on the grab and wrestle games; whether it be the salt at the table or a spanner while I'm working, every little thing I'm needing becomes an opportunity for a wrestle.

Even while I was reading the paper Ellen decided to playfully grab the bit I was reading and make a run for it only for me to capture the waist band of the back of her bikini as she made to escape, half dragging them down her bum cheeks as I pulled her back where she landed on my lap accompanied by a girly scream from her. Then making a fuss about pulling them back up, she squirmed around in my lap while still trying to keep the paper just out of reach of my outstretched arms.

Having got the sitting equivalent of a full horizontal by the time I'd got hold of the paper, she then sat in my lap with my erection pressed down by her crotch, the end of it pressed up into her crease while she nonchalantly discussed with me the geo political implications of one of the opinion pieces in it.

Of course, whether they get a horizontal or a vertical is largely a function of how the flaccid member was lying in my swimwear before it was...disturbed. But just today Issie decided there was no cheating in turning a vertical into a horizontal by the simple expedient of sticking her hands down my swimmers and readjusting it; bending it almost vertically down to get what she found was a very pleasing outcome.

Do I find it irritating that it now seems even the simplest act can't be performed without some diversion that results in a scantily clad woman all over my body? Probably the way I've framed that question answers it. Come on. I'm on a yacht gently cruising the Pacific. It's not as though time is precious. Most middle aged men would give anything for it to happen just once, let alone multiple times daily.

Even so, I just don't know that it's right for a guy my age to walk around them with a perpetual partial boner. Goodness only knows what they think of me, even if they are clearly looking for the effect. And yet in other ways it was just as well because I'm sure it's that which gives me a shot of whatever hormones I needed to satisfy their not insignificant sexual needs.

And as for the sort of physical performance I needed to put in to satisfy their 'go the animal' requests, it's lucky I'd developed what you might call a degree of match fitness by the time Ellen came along to add her demands. Had a woman asked me to do it a year earlier, it would only have been my premature ejaculation that would have saved me from a heart attack. Now I seemed to cope adequately with both measures of sexual stamina.

I just hope I can keep it up (another unfortunate turn of phrase).

Bed time that night had me sleeping with Issie and Ellen, while Amy got the midships cabin to herself. Of the three of them, Issie by now had the most relaxed attitude to night time contact with me. Don't get me wrong; she wanted me to perform for her in the morning as much as the others. But while we were sleeping, she was less inclined to push herself hard against me.

Ellen was at the other end of the spectrum. Completely coquettish from the moment we retired to the cabin, there would barely be a moment during the night she didn't have an arm over me; especially the early part of it. And if I lay on my side towards her, even if I thought she was asleep, she'd quickly cuddle up tightly against me with my erection weeping pre-cum onto her stomach.

In a way that wasn't surprising, at least by now (had you asked me two months ago, I would have had you committed). They'd all started like that. Ellen was the new girl and I could see she was gently trying to find her space on the boat and that included in my affections.

The irony was, she didn't really need to work that hard at it. I wasn't exaggerating when I'd told her she already had won my passions. That aura of hers was incredible. She just had to be in the bed next to me for me to already feel as if I was violating her body inappropriately enough to induce an erection. Maybe she needed more intimate contact, but for me it was only an incremental degree of extra intimacy.

Issie by nature is not a morning person; by which I simply mean she's a late waker. Ellen I don't really know well enough to generalise yet. She seems to have very restless nights and then fall into a deep sleep just before dawn. Either way, the morning light found me lying awake in the bed with a woman either side of me sound asleep. Which is awkward. I didn't really want to start tossing and turning for fear of stirring them and yet whatever position I was in suddenly became very uncomfortable.

I was even tempted to try and sneak out of bed; although there was no doubt they'd be expecting certain services when they did wake up and I suspected my absence when they woke might cause a moment or two of panic – or at least disconcertedness. After all, since this whole thing started, there'd never been a morning when the wake up romp had been missed.

I eased myself onto my side facing Issie. As I always had, I'd awoken with a morning glory and the anticipation of what was likely to be happening soon enough and the presence next to me of two completely naked women had been enough to stop it going down. Issie, already facing me, stirred. Both her hands were in front of her, resting between us down near her thighs. The lower one slid forward, under my erection. Feeling its presence, she turned her hand over and lazily wrapped her fingers around it, slipping the thumb over the top to spread any pre-cum over the edge of the bell.

The rest of her body gave every sign of still being asleep, but her hand started lightly massaging my swollen manhood. I lay there for a while enjoying the gentle stimulation, but her actions started to stir my loins up. That erection had a lot of work to do before it was allowed a release and I decided it was unwise to let things get too much momentum.

I slowly shuffled my hips forward, Issie's hand bending my erection down just enough that the tip slipped between her legs and against her crease where I felt her guide it to the warm wet void that signalled the opening to her already aroused sex. She lifted her upper leg over my hip and thrust her hips towards me, achieving it that single movement a complete penetration. Yet still the rest of her body did a pretty good imitation of being sound asleep.

It was like her brain was resisting surrendering to wakefulness even as her body surrendered to sexual temptation. Her hips were rocking back and forwards, creating a gentle thrusting movement, with the inward thrust firm enough that I could feel her rubbing her clit on the base of my cock. And yet still, from the waist up, there was not the slightest sign of wakefulness until a wicked sort of smile spread across her still eyes closed face.

I brought my hand up and rested it against her lower breast, feeling out the hardened nipple and tweaking it to an even greater hardness between my fingers. Then I bent my head down and took the other nipple between my lips; flicking it with my tongue.

Her upper hand came over my hips and pulled our bodies closely together, supporting the contact as she rammed her crotch against mine. Her hips movement quickly became more urgent and yet still, as I contorted my eyes to look up at her face, her eyes were closed and apart from that smile, her face apparently at rest.

She was clearly approaching a climax. Notwithstanding her resting countenance, her breathing was fast and furious. And yet it was not the normal screaming Issie; more like a half awake, dreaming of having sex Issie. It was only as she came she let out a long, loud satisfied groan, pushing her crotch firmly against me as her sex spasmened out its contractions around my shaft. Now her eyes opened and she threw her face at me for a passionate kiss.

With a female hand stroking my back – which by a process of elimination meant Ellen was awake and waiting her turn - I was about to withdraw, thinking I'd met Issie's needs, when she rolled herself on top of me and rose up in a reverse missionary, then brought her knees under into a cowgirl position.

She leaned back, letting her work her g spot against the tip of my shaft as she raked it in and out. The routine was a familiar one. The position opened up access to her clit for my fingers and put her nipples just within reach of my spare hand. And by now I knew – even when my own focus was on Issie – that the way her hand went off to the side very likely meant she was in turn fingering Ellen.

This time Issie wasn't so quiet. She was back to the moaning, groaning and eventually screaming out loud enough to wake the whole anchorage Issie. Let's face it. It's wonderful when a girl is that demonstrative about the pleasure you're giving her. It really keeps you hard and going. You can sense – almost share – her build up to the big one in a feed-back loop that swells your cock and makes you work all the harder to get her there.

And it must have been contagious in more ways than one. As Issie built to hers, I was suddenly aware of Ellen arching her back beside me as Issie had induced a climax in her.

As Issie climaxed she threw herself over me, lying on top of me panting and moaning as the contractions of her sex pummelled my manhood.

Issie has always had a somewhat different approach to sharing me in the morning than the others. Amy, especially, likes to loiter on me, letting the other girl wait. Issie is far more likely to take her turn and vacate me for the next; often with words of encouragement.

She finished with a peck on my lips and just before sliding off onto her side of the bunk whispered...

"Go get her stud."

I could only grin. Yes it was good for my ego to be called one; but it wasn't how I thought of myself. But Ellen wasn't going to give me time to think about such trivia. Virtually the moment Issie slid off, Ellen had an arm over my chest clearly pulling me over to mount her. I complied and quickly found myself blanketing Ellen even as Issie opened the condom packet (which still had to be used because Ellen was the only one of us not yet tested and hadn't yet had a script filled for the pill).

As I lifted my hips off Ellen's, Issie slid her hand between our bodies and rolled it on.

The moment Issie backed away, Ellen lifted her mouth to my ear...

"Go the animal on me again."

As I'd dropped my hips back down, the tip of my erection had fallen between Ellen's thighs and quickly found itself pushing against her sex. Even as I answered, Ellen was squirming down, pulling my butt up to have me completely penetrate her, generating a delightful sensation through the length of my shaft.