Unexpected Threesome Ch. 15

I just lay there feeling like some temporarily vacated Sybian machine, my erection waiting the next user, while Issie moved into position. But then what man wouldn't dream of being a well-used Sybian machine.

What would happen with Issie was as predictable as had been Amy's approach. As Ellen went down and sat next to Amy, leaving us with a two person audience as Issie and I completed this whole episode, Issie brought me into a slow, open and ungripped full penetration into her body. Then, brushing all the bikini parts carelessly off my chest to float off on the tide, she lay down on me, wrapping her hand around my back as I embraced her in return.

Issie's action then was one of squeeze and release, squeeze and release. It was all a trick she'd learned back in her native Italy so she could have sex with her then boyfriend while frolicking in the ocean - even with friends nearby. To all the world it looked as though they were just have a bit of a cuddle and a pash. After all, what can be happening if there's no rocking and rolling?

Well, with the drawstring of his pants undone and her bikini pants pulled to the side, it turned out quite a lot. I'd found out before that the action was very stimulating - at least how it was done by Issie.

Anyway, Issie wasn't trying to hide anything from anyone. She might not have wanted her innermost body parts to be pumped full of sea water but there was no reason a bit of rocking and pubis mashing couldn't be added to the mix.

After all the foreplay that had gone before, the fact was my balls had been on the point of boiling over for some time. It did take much for that first sensation of the inevitability of my impending climax to make itself known.

Moments later an intense gush of pleasure surged up my shaft as I sprayed Issie's cervix with my seed. And then another, and another. Which, in the other part of the trick she taught herself, induced a climax in her.

She lay on top of me for a moment, enjoying a post coitus cuddle, then slowly climbed up off me; releasing my still hard shaft from the embrace of her body. Then like a lot of these encounters there was that "what do we do now" moment.

When Issie had hurriedly pushed the bikini parts off my body, she'd sent them in the opposite direction to where Amy and Ellen were sitting. They'd felt a bit inhibited about walking around us to get theirs so had just sat there watching as their clothing started drifting in the tide.

Now it was over there was an almost comic flurry of activity as the girls chased down their tops and bottoms; some of which were now partly buried in the sand as a result of all the movement that was occurring. I could sit watching in relative amusement and a little bit of sexual frission, as three nearly or completely naked women - except for their diving gear - swam around finding and picking up the items, shaking out the sand and trying to tie them back on their body. For Ellen's and Issie's pants that wasn't too hard.

But now Amy had her tank back on her back, all of them found it impossible to tie their tops back on, since the knot had to be under the tank. One by one they gave up and following Issie's lead, tucked them in their pants for the rest of the dive.

It's funny isn't it? I'd just rooted the three of them, played with their nipples and watched them sexually engage with each other and yet I found it quite exciting to be diving with them topless; completely distracted by the spectacle. I was also amused that none of them balked at being videoed like that.

As we got back to the RIB they climbed into the boat equally topless; staying that way until they were de-geared and even, Issie didn't bother until she was back on the yacht and Amy only started tying her on as her breasts bounced on the way back.

Once back on the yacht I was attracted to what the girls were giggling about as they reviewed the footage they'd taken, only to find Amy had set the camera up on a coral head before the girls pounced on me. The whole thing had been filmed. I could shrug my shoulders. The camera angle was from low between my legs. While it gave a great, and somewhat flattering shot of my cock and balls between their use by the girls, with facemask and regulator, the only thing that really identified it as me was the colour of my speedos. And black is not that distinctive.

For the next two weeks in Fare all seemed to be going well. Whatever issues of jealously and uncertainty the girls had been feeling seemed to have settled down. Yes, there was a second day when a dive turned into an orgy, but this time when two of them put on string tie pants instead of their usual slightly more provocative "fuck me" bikini bottoms, I sort of guessed it was going to happen. But on the whole their collective sexual demands had started to subside as their sense of security within the arrangements increased. Not every girl was demanding sex every day. Some even forewent their one on one days.

Then, just when I thought all the issues had been cleared, everyone was happy and comfortable and the boat had settled into a nice routine, Issie laid it on me.

It was her one on one day and, with the others ashore for the afternoon, we'd just finished a passionate love making session. Perhaps her revised script for that should have alerted me to the fact something was amiss.

Normally Issie would ride me exuberantly; usually cowgirl style as she leaned back and rubbed my shaft against her g spot. Normally she'd find multiple orgasms for herself before tightening her grip on me and giving me my climax. This day had been different. From the outset, she pulled me over on top if her and held me tightly around the neck, maintaining a contact with almost the full length of our bodies. All I could do was try and grind my pubis against her clit on full penetration at the end of every stroke, while rubbing my chest against her nipples as I moved about on top of her. She'd left me just enough movement to occasionally kiss down her neck and across the top of her breasts; but for the most part my head was firmly captured by the elbow she had wrapped around it.

It was a lot more intimate than Issie's usual love making style. It was almost like pulling me on top somehow surrendered herself to my dominance in a very un-Issie like way; more like the "make beautiful love to me" requests I sometimes got from Amy and Ellen. She'd been quieter too; mournfully moaning and intimately lifting herself against my weight to brush against me, rather than the unconstrained crying out and vigorous bouncing that accompanied her usual routines.

As she'd climaxed she pulled my head against her cheek and my butt firmly up to maintain my full penetration of her while her contractions had pummelled my shaft, then released it and encouraged me to thrust vigorously as I'd found my own release.

Even then she'd just pulled me down and held me in a vice like grip; eventually letting me roll us both over so I didn't have to worry about crushing her under my body weight. Yet still, it felt as though she wanted to capture me in the intimacy of the moment; her covering me like a blanket substituting for the choke hold she previously held on me.

So there I was under her, the residue of my erection still penetrating deeply into her body. I was even enjoying that sensation of feeling the edge of the bell swimming in the pool of cum and juices that were flooded up against her cervix. But really, there'd been not the slightest inkling of the bombshell she was about to drop.

"Ned. I need to go home. I'm going to book a ferry to Papeete and fly out from there."

In that moment, the mood changed; almost to one of panic.

"What happened? Is anything wrong? Is everyone alright back home?"

"Everyone's fine. No, it's nothing like that."

Her voice was quivering and she was starting to tear up in a way I'd never seen her do before. I was starting to feel a bit emotional about the prospect of losing her myself.

"Clearly this has been a big decision for you. Do you want to talk me through what's behind it?"

"Ned, I've practiced this speech in my head a hundred times, but it's still going to come out a jumble of crazy thoughts. I suppose you'd call it an epiphany.

I've fallen in love. Deeply in love. The sort of love that makes you want to have it forever. I'm in love with you, with Amy and with Ellen; with the whole incestuous family thing we've got going here. I'm in love with the feeling of being in love.

That's caused this maternal instinct to explode inside my head. It's made me realise I want to settle down; to have a husband and children and the whole domestic thing. I'm thirty and not getting any younger.

If I thought I could somehow bubble wrap what we've got going here, add children to it and make it last forever, even when the trip is over and we've all retired to the shore, I'd be more than willing to commit myself to it. If I thought I could just keep you as my husband when we get ashore, I'd grab that too.

You've made me want to have children. And if those children turned out like you, if they were your children, I couldn't think of anything nicer. I've even toyed with going off the pill and getting pregnant to you without telling you; that's how strong my feeling are. Although I wouldn't actually do that.

But none of that's going to happen. Real life doesn't work like life at sea on a yacht. To think I can make anything like that work once we get ashore is just crazy thinking. Even if you were willing to marry me and have children with me, they'd have a father who was twice the age of their mother. We always said this was an arrangement for the duration of the trip. We always knew it couldn't go on.

So what it comes down to is that the very thing that has triggered all these feelings, the love, the intimacy and the sex are basically what's forcing me to realise I have to give it up.

I know I could just see out another year of this bliss and then go home; but I'd be a year older. My biological clock has suddenly started ticking and I can't make it go away.

I'm not stupid. I don't expect to go home, instantly find the man of my dreams and have a child to him. I wish it could happen, but that's not the way life works. It will take time. But every year I spend out here is a year gone, another group of men committed to another woman. I feel like I'm in a race and I'm already starting at the back of the grid.

I hate it. I hate giving up what I have here. I hate giving up your love. I hate giving up the sex. I hate giving up the whole family thing we have on the boat. I'm going to curl up and die the day I leave.

But I have to. I need to get out on the race track and start competing. It scares me; scares me witless. But it's not going to go away. You know me. When I'm faced with something, I don't ignore it or put it off. I face it, confront it and deal with it. And deep in my heart I know I have to deal with this earlier rather than later."

As she'd been talking Issie had lifted her head off my chest to let her look down at my face. Tears had been streaming out of her eyes and landing on my own cheeks. Now her eyes were burrowing deeply into mine, looking, waiting, for my reaction.

But I was left speechless; confounded and overwhelmed by a sense of impending loss. Issie might not have been the most attractive of the three, but she was the one I was closest to. More than the others, she was the one I confided in and shared my innermost secrets with. Because of her forthrightness and forcefulness, she was also the one I had almost ceded control of the boat to. She instigated most actions on the boat and was the one who most influenced decisions. I had almost become lazy about such things in her presence.

I had no entitlement to be righteous or hurt about it. She wasn't betraying us and clearly was feeling as much a sense of loss and regret as I was. And while selfishly I might want to talk her out of it; that's all it was - selfish. What she was saying was rational. In a way it was consistent with what I had always told the girls - look to the future and recognise that, as much as our love is real, the rest of your life lies elsewhere.

I almost felt like telling her I'd father her a baby and marry her if she wanted. But that wasn't really in her best interest. It was clinging to what I had. She was a quality catch in the meat market of life. She could do much better than an old fart twice her age and I owed it to her to release her to find that. But the words that would both properly reflect my grief at the prospect of losing her, while not selfishly tempting her into staying were refusing to form on my lips.

Only the tears welling in my own eyes gave her an immediate insight into my feelings and I just hoped they were enough to bridge the time gap before my brain could formulate the right response.

"Issie, I'm dying inside the hear that. It will kill me to lose you as much as it pains you. You're my special girl. You always have been even before this got so intense.

But what you're doing is exactly what I've always said you should. Look to the future. I'm so pleased you want to be a mother. You're going to make a great one. I so hope it works for you."

My voice was breaking up. This couldn't be a long speech.

"It would just be selfishness if I was to even try and talk you out of it. I'm not going to do it even though I want to. But know I love you and always will."

Issie dissolved into heaving, sobbing tears and collapsed onto my chest as I failed to hold back my own grief. We lay there silently for an hour; not wanting to discuss the details until we found more courage to confront the situation. It was only the sound of the others arriving in the RIB that made us get up.

Amy and Ellen took one look at us both as they came aboard and wanted to know what had happened; thinking only a death could cause such misery. Soon we were all crying as they alternately hugged Issie and sat there wallowing in their emotional pain. Bit by bit the details started to emerge. There was a ferry in a week that linked with a plane out. Issie hadn't yet booked, but seats were available and she was determined to be on it.

They begged Issie not to go. They looked to me to do the same; leaving me to explain why I shouldn't and wondering if they'd ever forgive me. But her mind was set. They should have known Issie better. Dinner that night was eaten in a mournful silence. There was no sulking with Issie. Periodically one of them would put her hand over Issie's and just look into her eyes as if that would somehow change everything. Then tears would fill both their eyes and the group would descend into silence again.

Somewhere during the evening Amy and Ellen said Issie would get me to herself every night until she left; a parting gift of intimacy and sex.

So it was that we bunked down together that night; for one of the few times in months I had only a single woman to share it with. I was uncertain what Issie would want. Did she want to start the emotional divorce? To ease herself out of it instead of going cold turkey in a week?

It was the opposite. Issie wanted sex before we fell asleep, during the night and in the morning. The sort of intimate, high contact sex that had preceded the talk that got us here. It was beautiful sex; meaningful, moving and with a sort of connection that one rarely feels in life. Orgasm counts ceased to matter; the human contact was everything.

In the early days of our sexual relationship Issie had wanted to sleep with me penetrated in her. It was something we'd mastered, but was always limited by how long you could sleep in one position; and occasionally brought to an end by a wet dream on my part. At the time I'd thought of it as something that was trying to lay a claim on me; mark me with her scent and impregnate me with her couplins. And it probably was.

Now she wanted to do it again. But this time was clearly all about intimacy. More intimacy, closer and more intense intimacy. For most of that week we'd have sex before we went to sleep and an hour later I'd be awoken as my night erection was introduced into her body. We'd drift off to sleep in each other's embrace, intimately joined through our sexual organs. Somewhere we'd separate. I'd wake up, maybe having turned over and have her snuggled into my back with an arm around me. She'd sense my wakefulness and tease me into sex again. We'd fall asleep, she swallow my night erection into her body again. In the morning she'd seek sex; sometimes a second time.

If I woke to a wet dream, which I did twice while asleep and penetrated into her, she'd tell me she'd climaxed too.

Give or take a bit, that was the week that passed all too quickly. It was like our bodies were joined. Far from preparing ourselves for our separation, my body started to yearn for her; become addicted. This wasn't going to be easy.

The day arrived and we all travelled into town to deliver her to the ferry. The tears flowed freely. Issie, Amy, Ellen and me all had no inhibitions about it. As it pulled away Issie reach a hand over the rail of the ferry holding mine until it was a case of let go or be dragged into the water.

She was gone. It was over. Yes, there'd be letters, messages and even some skype. But that's not the same as having the person. I just hoped she found what she wanted. She deserved it.

Amy and Ellen had backed off the sex during that last week; leaving me to Issie. But we hadn't been back on the yacht for an hour before the comforting arms had become a comforting intimacy. An intense sexual intimacy as if that could somehow take the pain away. It didn't. It took a lot more episodes of intimacy before it faded; as if our new constituted family need to rebind through sex and lots of it before a new equilibrium could be reached. Like was the case with Issie, it wasn't the high activity multiple orgasm sex, it was sex with lot of body contact, hugging and cuddling.

Indeed maybe for the first time I felt we shared real threesomes - instead of what I normally thought of as sequential pairs with a watcher - as the three of us cuddled into a single ball and my shaft moved back and forwards between each of their sexes with nothing more than a 30 degree turn of my body.

But we got there. By the end of a week we were no longer going around with long faces. There was still a sense of deep loss but a joyfulness returned to the boat which had been missing during that week. We'd managed to exchange happy memories for a fear of the future.

But I think we also came away feeling closer to each other than we were before. That was nice.

The happiest - no let me reword that - the logically best outcome for Issie might well have been for us never to see her again. Or if we did for us to fly to Italy for the christening of her first baby. But that's not how it worked out. A year later, and after the yacht was back in Australia, Issie came back into our lives. But that's a whole different story.