Unexpected Threesome Ch. 37

Only a few yachts had suffered more than that sort of minor damage. One unattended boat had broken loose after its jib had partly unrolled. The jib had been shredded, as had the dodger canvas. It had then careered around the lagoon, striking a few boats -- including Liddy's -- before coming to rest against the rock wall.

Its starboard side was damaged by the rocks, but, because of the moderate of waves hitting that particular place, nothing too badly. To avoid it sinking in the lagoon, the Marina staff craned it out of the water.

A couple of others had their poorly stowed canvasses and sails shredded and just about every one of them had some damage to rigging or topsides from the violent movement induced by the wind.

It was the locals who copped most of the damage to their infrastructure and housing and indeed, themselves. Much of it just wasn't designed for a category 5 cyclone. It was really nice the way locals and yachties all pitched in to help clean up and repair, using whatever was available; including things like generators, pressure sprayers and water makers off the yachts, since the local power grid was down. And over the next few weeks, Ellen and Liddy put their doctoring skills to good use at the local clinics and wherever they could. Having done volunteer work as a doctor in Fiji before, Ellen was especially attuned to cultural needs. I was more than happy to help them out as a mere dogsbody, doing whatever unskilled jobs would help them in their important work and incredibly proud of Ellen and her abilities.

Overall, it created a lovely community feeling for the rest of our stay; although it broke our hearts to see what the locals were left to deal with.

Two days after the cyclone, Liddy moved back to her yacht and I recommenced my Thursday night stays there.

With Liddy's yacht damaged, ours stranded ashore and much of the main Island not really suitable for tourism, then our main focus really became doing what we could for the locals.

Because of the cyclone, Tash put off her return to the boat until mid February, just after we had put the yacht back in the lagoon from its position ashore. We were all glad to see Tash back. She represented a vibrant, energetic breath of fresh air in the boat; someone inclined to lead us all towards a more adventurous approach to things than would be the case without her.

As yet unwilling to take the next long stage of our journey because of the cyclone risk, Tash pushed us to make the most of our time. Once our ability to help the locals recover diminished, then, instead of lazing about the Marina, short day or overnight trips to other parts of Fiji became the order of the day, adding hours of provocative footage to the girls' travel blogs in the process. Of course we still had to be sensitive to the fact the locals were going through a recovery process; but they also needed tourist dollars to survive.

Sexually, I detected, at first, almost a determination in Tash to stay apart from the deeply carnal activities on the boat -- in great contrast to the sexualised playfulness Tash often provoked for the cameras. She was vivacious and no less inclined to wearing nothing more than the fuck me bikinis the others wore. But in her physical dealings with me while we were on the yacht and sex might occur, her behaviour might best have been described as 'proper'.

And I was quite comfortable in saying that she was completely entitled to adopt that approach. I entirely understood her being discomforted by our age difference, quite apart from her entitlement to choose her sexual partners. So I reciprocated, letting her set the rules. Sleeping with me was definitely not a prerequisite to being on the boat.

In conversations around the dinner table with the girls, it soon became evident that the time back home had done nothing to break her man drought. Indeed, at the end of one conversation she simply blurted out that she'd had no intimate contact with a guy during her time away; partly as the girls mutually lamented the lack of eligible men. But I couldn't help but suspect it was also partly a way of declaring that she was still 'clean', in the sense of not having to go through the sexual health quarantine rules that strictly apply to any new participants in our carnal circle or to anyone having an affair outside it.

It was about three and a half weeks after she'd returned that I was down in the cabin preparing a snack while the girls were enjoying sundowners (evening drinks shared between yachties) in the cockpit. Tash came down into the cabin and slipped past me to go into her midships bunk room.

She quickly emerged dressed in one of her old one piece swimwear. That was the agreed signal that she wanted me to instigate sex; more than that, to actually effectively force her into sex or at least role play it. In a way I never really understood, it was her way of getting past our age differences; that surrendering to being taken was somehow different to wanting sex with someone so much older than her -- even if she had to be the one to give the signal for that to occur.

If she's wearing one of her two new one piece outfits, I'm meant to strip her or otherwise bypass them (if you get my drift). If, as in this case, she's wearing one of her multitude of old ones from her squad swimming days, I'm meant to rip it apart. Evidently, when you're squad swimming every day, the chlorine in the pool is really hard on the swimwear and they don't last long in any reasonable condition before becoming quite desiccated and see through (which is the reason that modesty often requires squad swimmers to be wearing two or three layers of them). So you tend to end up with a large collection of old ones; and Tash certainly did.

More than a few had been ripped apart in the months leading up to her going home. But it seemed she must have had a bottomless supply of them at home from which she was now drawing. This was a light blue one I hadn't seen before.

As Tash is happy to admit, she was most competitive before she, shall we say, fully matured. In her own words, melon sized breasts are not an asset for competitive swimming. As a result, these old swimmers have always been too small for her; their now flimsy material literally bursting in an effort to accommodate her voluptuous figure. What might have once been quite modest outfits are now anything but.

I could only guess that Tash was now digging deeper into her draw of them, bringing forth smaller sized ones from even younger years, and thus even less able to contain her breasts, or anything else.

I couldn't see how she'd even managed to get into these, let alone how the old material was standing up to the strain of accommodating her figure. The material was stretched so tight it was essentially transparent. Her breasts were all cleavage bulging out from the overburdened neckline, so much so that the edge of her areolas were visible. And she'd clearly grown much taller since acquiring these because she only been able to get into them by drawing the leg seams up over her hips and the crotch obscenely up into a giant and very uncomfortable looking camel toe.

When she awkwardly blurted out..."Mr Smith, you were going to massage that tight leg muscle...", the terms of the game were set. Mr Smith was her old swimming coach; one on whom she obviously had a massive and never satisfied girlie crush and who I'd already discovered was the subject of more than a few fantasies.

"Just a sec Tash and I'll get onto you..."

Feeling a bit smug about my quickly improvised pun, I passed the plate of nibblies I'd been preparing up to the girls still in the cockpit, adding...

"Tash is in a one piece, looking for Mr Smith."

Both the meaning of Tash's one piece swimwear and the history of Mr Smith was well known to the others; the latter mainly from overhearing her role play, especially as she climaxed. Those words were all it took to tell the girls I'd be occupied for a while.

Ellen quickly came back with a wink and...

"That Mr Smith is such a naughty coach. I'm surprised we allow him on the boat. I'll have to get him in private one day and give him a piece of me."

"You mean a piece of your mind?"

She smirked as she replied... "Not necessarily."

How this particular game predictably plays out has been narrated in a previous chapter, so probably isn't worth repeating in full. Needless to say, a full body massage ends up loitering for quite a while on what is discovered to be a very tight upper leg muscle. That, of necessity of course, morphs into pelvic floor muscle massage which somehow needs to focus around the clitoris.

After that muscle is relaxed by a couple of orgasms, it's discovered it's necessary for some deeper --let's say more penetrating - massage using what by then has conveniently developed into an extended appendage of my own.

Through all this Tash gets to progressively play the role of an innocent and naive willing student, to one who becomes slightly concerned, to one who mildly resists to one who finely succumbs to the pleasures offered.

At a convenient time the crotch of the swimmers needs to be torn apart to facilitate the... 'cough'... deeper massage and the front of it needs to be torn apart; really just to let me play with her tits.

The ripped swimwear seems to be an important part of the ritual for her, but quite different in its motivation from Amy's bikini sex. As far as I can fathom it, for Tash it's firstly a signifier of being taken by, rather than giving herself over to, an older man. But it also lets her live out a fantasy of being taken by that specific former coach on who she had a crush. So I'm not allowed to simply remove it or even just pull it aside.

Am I offended that she is fantasying about making love to someone else while I'm the one doing the deed? Not the slightest. If it works for her, it works for me. After all, with the females having to share me, I can hardly complain if one of them is screwing someone else only in her imagination.

Often she will sleep in the ripped and now cum stained swimmers afterwards. I more than suspect that lets the fantasy of getting herself done over by her former swimming coach linger on by loitering in her ravaged state. Indeed, it often causes her to instigate another round still dressed in it.

The only additionally noteworthy thing about this encounter was really the effect of the swimwear being way too short for her length wise. If anywhere I share Amy's fascination with bikini sex, it's in the way the filmy material of the girls' fuck me bikini pants mould into their aroused crease and is plastered there by their body's juices during foreplay. It's fun to look at the effect and to play with their clit and the opening to their sex through it (before preferably removing it to give them a good pounding).

With Tash in this outfit, the effect was even more spectacular. It was more than moulded there. It was more like it was vacuum bagged into it; transparent in its wet, desiccated and highly stretched state, her swollen clit a more pronounced and finely detailed feature than any effect I'd seen before and her aroused hole plainly visible and just asking for a fingering. It was a fingering both her hole and her g spot got a good measure of as my just slightly too long fingernail readily pierced the material to give me an easy digital penetration of her.

After my climax had finished, my cock had slowly shrunk and I'd collapsed on my back onto the narrow bunk next to her, she put her arm over me, telling me I wasn't going anywhere for the next short while, even if I could hear the others having dinner.

As I rested with my arm under her head, she closed her eyes and played her fingers slowly up and down my chest, occasionally drawing a line down to my crotch where she would circle my balls looking for any reaction.

I took the closed eyes to indicate it probably still wasn't me her mind was lying next to, but found not the slightest offence in that.

If you play with a man's cock for long enough you're going to get a reaction and eventually Tash got one. She teased me up to full length and hardness, but then seemed satisfied to just keep teasing; running the back of her hand gently up and down it while she brushed her nipples with subtle movements against my upper arm.

It was actually quite relaxing and very nice to just have her doing that and I was more than content to lay there and have it continue; even feeling like I could drift off to sleep. But clearly the point came it no longer gave her the contentment she wanted.

Without much warning she gripped my shaft with her full hand and started moving it up and down as if intending to jerk me off. Then, when she was apparently satisfied it was ready for action, she used her grip to pull me over (on a move with me or lose it basis) into a missionary position on top of her; quickly guiding me through the by now slightly enlarged finger hole I'd originally made in her swimwear crotch and then into her sex.

Tash was still as tight as she always been. But by now I knew I just had to apply enough pressure to overcome her body's initial resistance to penetration; trying not to join the disgraced ranks of previous discarded lovers who inevitably found it too much and climaxed before even achieving full penetration.

With her hands on my bum and the action of her hips being thrust up at me, she was making it clear that any foreplay was over and I was just meant to go for it.

Now with Amy and Ellen, there's a good chance they'll come to an orgasm with me simply doing just that. With Tash it's not so easy and I usually finger her to one before starting; mainly as an insurance against failure and partly because it can sometimes warm her up to be more orgasmacially responsive to penetrative sex. But we'd already bypassed that step.

There are different positions I can use with her to improve the outcome -- especially if I use one that hits her g spot -- but none of those were being offered to me either.

As I lifted myself up on outstretched arms and looked down on her voluptuous youthful body, I first of all noticed her eyes were still tightly closed. I could only guess that it wasn't me she was making love to and that the obviously alluring Coach Smith was getting another go -- in her mind anyway.

The second thing was to lament that her one piece swimwear was an unfortunate distraction to enjoying the view I had of her body. Yes, their highly stressed covering of her body can be stimulating for a while, but there comes a time there's no substitute for the hot intimacy of the naked body and the flesh on flesh contact it offers. And a one piece is not the same as Amy's tiny bikinis when she wants to indulge in her obsession about sex in those.

Normally by now these one pieces would be so shredded it would barely matter. But this one had survived better than most. With only minor enlargement, the finger hole I'd made in the crotch while fingering her had served as the path for penetration, whereas normally I'd need to rip it more forcefully apart from the stomach down to the crotch seam to offer the same access. And her melon sized breasts poked out through short vertical tears in the material, which left the material flowing around them like flood waters around a hill.

I contemplated doing some more ripping, but it had been Tash who had subtly indicated 'that's enough' last time -- but encouraging me to move on with my carnal taking of her body -- and it was clear whatever role game that was playing out in her mind then was still being continued now.

And given I was being asked to make love to an extraordinarily sexy woman a little more than a third my age, I was in no position to complain. I decided it was best to simply play out the hand I was being dealt.

I bent down to suck her nipple as I started the thrusting her hands were demanding. Normally Tash loosens up a little as the sex warms up, but not much. And this was no exception. She was still tight; highly stimulatingly tight. It's no wonder her younger lovers don't last long.

I was at a loss as to how to guarantee her an orgasm in all of this. In other circumstances I might have withdrawn and done a bit of fingering or changed position into a g spot banging one. But Tash had control and was dictating a missionary position pounding.

All I could really do was linger on full penetration, try and go that little bit deeper and mash the base of my shaft into her crease, hoping I could give her some clitoral stimulation. And yet, that too immediately presented problems. Circling what seemed to be the highly sensitive very base of my shaft around in the hard tightness of the opening to her sex was sending my arousal through the roof and boiling up my balls something terrible. And Tash's hands were telling me to stop doing that and just pound her.

I quickly decided I might just as well listen to the message her hands were giving me and enjoy the ride. If it was a pounding she wanted, it's a pounding she'd get. So I just went for it, angling to maximise my own enjoyment but in a way that would let me last as long as possible.

It worked. Both in the sense her hands relaxed as if they'd got what they were seeking and I was soon groaning away, building to a monster climax. She must have been able to tell I wasn't going to last much longer, and yet the now more gently applied message from her hands was still the same. Keep going.

Inevitably that pleasurable warmth flooded my shaft; that beautiful state of erotic high that you wish could last forever but is really a mere short interlude to what will briefly follow. The climax was beautiful; wave after wave of ejeculative pleasure as I discharged my cum deeply into the most intimate parts of her body.

I was left moaning gently into her ear as the final shudders of my climax rung themselves ecstatically out.

I collapsed onto her and then, after loitering enjoying the sensuality of my continued penetration of her for as long as I could, rolled onto the bunk beside her. Again, she immediately put her arm over me, as if binding me into the bunk.

Maybe half an hour passed as we lay there in silent close contact and I found myself drifting off to sleep. Gently I moved her hand off me and turned to exit the bunk.

"Stay the night Ned."

"I've just got to brush my teeth and have a pee. But I'll come back."

I exited the bunk room and went into the now dark cabin. The girls had finished dinner and gone to bed. "Oh well" I thought, "a missed dinner isn't going to make me starve."

As I passed the open door to the master cabin, Ellen's voice came softly out.

"Mr Smith's been kept very busy. I hope he's got a good performance out of his favourite athlete. He's missed dinner. There's some in the icebox if you want it. Is the naughty man going to go back and keep touching up his charges or come to bed with us?"

I walked to the opening of the door. In the dull light I could see Amy naked on her back next to the side of the boat and Ellen's naked body on her side on the outside of the bunk. As she heard me approach, Ellen rolled onto her stomach and lifted herself up on her elbows to look at me.

"Thanks Ellen. I might skip dinner tonight. I've told Tash I'll be back."

"Well, if you're going to skip dinner, I hope you had a good feast of pussy to keep you going."

I let out a little giggle as I replied.

"I think it would be more correct to say the pussy's been feeding on me."

"And is it the old fart in front of me who's getting fucked or the stud swimming coach?"

Ouch. Ellen certainly knows how to get to the heart of matters.

"Definitely the stud swimming coach."

"Yea, well, if the old fart wants a good fuck, there's a willing young lady waiting for him right here with a pussy ready to provide all the sustenance he's willing to spend time drawing from it."