Unexpected Threesome Ch. 42

It was ten minutes after she'd come down from her orgasm before Ellen was even able to try and get out of the bunk; and even then she collapsed to the floor in another fit of giggles.

But eventually she managed to get herself back into a bikini and hobble up to join me on deck; the signal to the others that it was time for them to swim out to the boat. As we watched them swim and paddle towards us, Ellen turned to me...

"That orgasm was incredible Ned, I just can't stop thinking about it. Why haven't you done that to me before?"

"I have, it just didn't have the same effect. Maybe you have to be in the right mood."

"Well, I'm going to have to make sure I find that mood more often."

Of course, as we sat around the cockpit having sundowners, Ellen had to blab about it; stirring up the interest of Amy and Liddy in getting the same result. While everyone might have known Tash had experienced a couple of intense orgasms accompanied by some sort of seizure type reaction, she hadn't gone into the full detail of how intense it had been. So, except for Ellen, the others had been more bemused by them than ambitious to get the same.

But Ellen's determination to spell it out in such minutiae, changed all that. It was funny to hear your sex life talked about in such detail in company; yet another strange manifestation of the unusual relationships we have on the boat. But all I could do was explain that they'd all had the technique tried on them; although without the same result.

Naturally both Amy and Liddy wanted it tried on them that night. But while they got some good orgasms, nothing reached anywhere near the heights of Ellen's.

By the following morning, our anchorage in Byron Bay had become quite rollie. The swell had come around more from the east and the wind was backing to the North. It was time to leave and make our way south.

It took us two leisurely months to sail down the New South Wales coast to Sydney and into the yacht's home berth in Pittwater. Two days later we were fully ensconced in my family home; a large six bedroom home on six acres on the Bayview hill overlooking the Southern part of Pittwater.

Each of the girls had their own bedroom, but with the option of sleeping in my Super King size bed whenever they wanted. For Amy and Ellen, that meant every night. Because Liddy's job In the Emergency Department of the local hospital involved a lot of night shifts, she usually crawled into her own bed when she came home in the early mornings, but otherwise joined the three of us in my bed.

We had been lucky that the area of expertise of both Liddy and Amy had qualified them for what was then 457 working visas to stay in Australia, making the process of getting them residence fairly simple.

Three weeks after the arrival found me down on the yacht at its marina berth attending to a problem with the engine's cooling system that had developed during the final week at sea. It was one of those difficult to find the cause of problems that can bedevil yacht owners. But eventually, by a process of elimination, I'd isolated where the problem had to be.

The anti-syphon system for the cooling water intake on the yacht had been playing up for a while. Some sort of blockage had restricted the water flow while also preventing the anti-syphon drain from working properly.

Mechanically it should have been an easy fix. This was not a complex piece of kit, even if it had taken me a while to isolate where the water flow problem was.

But as with most things on boats, access was the real problem. The nearest access for it was a side door to the engine compartment located near the floor of the master cabin. The main purpose of the side door is to give you easy access to the engine oil filter and the dip stick for the gearbox that sits behind the engine. So it was designed to be something you reach into, not something you climb through; and sized accordingly. But its advantage was it sat directly under the anti-syphon system.

I'm too old not to try and find a way of making things easier for myself. At home I keep a number of old pillows wrapped in garbage bags. When I've got an issue like this, I just make a bed of them, stuffing both the engine bay and the floor outside with them until I can lay comfortably on my back and look up at the issue without contorting myself or having something sharp stick in my back. Even then, holding the tools up seems easier because it's a straight lift.

Which is what I did when I went down to the boat at the Marina one sticky summer morning to tackle this problem. It's sweaty as hell doing this work in the sun drenched cabin of a yacht, so I stripped down to one of my pairs of swimming briefs. It was a bit of a wiggle to get the top of my torso into the compartment through the not very large hatch; but at least I could work in relative comfort. This was all the more important because I wasn't really sure what the problem was; so getting a really good look at it was critical.

The hole was slightly taller than wide and it wasn't wide enough to get the full width of my shoulders through, so I wiggled through the hole on my side until my shoulders were in and then lay flat on my back as I bum cheek and shoulder blade walked in a bit deeper still; regretting I hadn't bothered tying the drawstring on my swimmers as they got dragged down, exposing my pubic hair until the waistband caught on the base of my manhood. Still, I was alone. It didn't really matter, even if I couldn't get my hands out of the hole to pull them up again.

With the smallest space between each side of the hole and my rib cage, at least, after a five minute struggle, I was in. After that all I had to do was work holding heavy wrenches and spanners over my head.

I been there for half an hour, struggling slightly to free a seized bolt that held the syphon circuit up, when I heard someone board the yacht and come down the companionway stairs. At first I thought the light female footsteps indicated it was probably Liddy, since Amy and Ellen were at work.

"I'm in the master cabin."

There was no answering voice, but I sensed the person come into the cabin. Looking out of the compartment through the narrowing opening available to me, I watched as a pair of female legs came into view and straddled my hips.

Initially I thought the olive coloured skin confirmed my suspicion it was Liddy; but then I noticed the tattooed anklet and the youthfulness of the skin. So no, it wasn't Liddy, or Amy for that matter. Forgetting my semi exposure, I complacently asked...

"What can I do for you?"

I wiggled out a bit until my underarms were up against the side of the hole, which by dropping my head from its slightly elevated position on the engine, expanded my field of vision vertically a smidgen. Well, enough anyway to let me see up the full length of the woman's legs and, with her legs spread apart as she straddled me, have a grandstand view of her rather extremely brief, pink, satin panties under an ultra mini denim skirt.

That left me feeling somewhere between vulnerable and perverted. Vulnerable because I was lying there, not really in a position to defend myself, virtually naked, with whoever it was standing right over my barely covered most sensitive spot. Perverted because it's not every day you get to have a grandstand view up a young ladies skirt in circumstances where she can't know what your line of sight is and it was an attractive enough view I wasn't in a rush to change it.

My next assumption was it must be Julie; the young lady who works in the Marina office. Julie is one of those front of house office girls that must be invaluable to a business like the Marina which has an excess of mature aged men clients. Stunningly attractive, she interacts easily - and almost flirtatiously - with clients while dressed in the shortest skirts and most plunging necklines, and yet keeps them effortlessly at arm's length; in no small measure because she's clearly very intelligent and seems to have the answer to every question a customer might have and excellent follow-up on any business requests.

In short, she knows how to make you feel good and attracted to doing business with the place, but only an idiot mature male would think they were in with a chance. Still, I suppose there are always idiots; but if so, she seems to know how to deal with even them.

I hadn't seen her as I'd come in that morning, so didn't know what she as wearing. But she was inclined to brief clothing and had olive skin. I hadn't notice the anklet before, but given I was often desperately trying not to stare down her usual cleavage display, that wasn't surprising.

I felt I knew her well and we were on friendly terms, so I relaxed a lot about the vulnerability issue. Still I wasn't sure what she wanted.

"Is that you Julie?"

Still no answer. It had been a struggle to wiggle into this position and would be no less of one to come out and in any case, the view was more than a little entertaining. As one does, I started to come up with all sorts of imagined excuses why she hadn't answered and why I should just wait. Maybe she was in the middle of texting on her phone? Or something like that anyway.

It was presumptuous, but I thought it gave me good cover for doing nothing other than perving up her skirt and her for not rushing.

"Let me know when you're ready Julie."

Things took a slight change in direction when, not only could I tell her labia were swelling inside her thin, tightly fitted briefs, but a distinct damp patch was forming which rapidly spread and turned a dark wet colour. 'Oh my god' I thought, 'she's getting aroused'.

Now one part of my brain was telling me this wasn't logical. Julie's an attractive 19 year old who's willing to flaunt it. She must be beating off eligible, appropriately aged males left, right and centre. She might have a good line of banter with old fart customers like me, but I'm not one who's stupid enough to think it really means she fancies me, even in swimwear. Maybe especially in swimwear. Maybe she'd just received a naked photo from her boyfriend, which is what was causing her to be distracted?

But the male brain is designed to be optimistic too. Julie was well aware there was something distinctly unusual about my love life; even more so after she had asked Amy what was going on and Amy had blabbed the details while getting a coffee one morning. So I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge my brain at least momentarily flirted with the idea she was randy and wanted a bit.

Things got really weird when she put a hand under her skirt and started playing with herself; more so when she slipped a finger into the side of her panties and pulled them aside to completely expose herself and give her direct access to her clit and really started to go for it. The thought even momentarily crossed my mind that Julie was some sort of psychopath working herself into a sexual frenzy before plunging a knife into me.

But of course, as a male - even one of my age - some reactions are less reasoned and more automatic. I suddenly realised my manhood was delivering its own version of arousal and in swimwear, nothing is hidden. I could feel it moving, expanding and straightening enough inside my clingy briefs that it was obvious and there was no hiding it. Originally lying pointing off to one side, it had initially snaked across my thigh inside my loose swimwear. But things got a bit desperate when I felt the bell slip out from the waistband and the thing straighten into a hard, largely exposed, rod. Watching a young lady pleasure herself over you will do that.

And yet I was largely stuck. It took me several minutes to wiggle in and would take just as long to get out. I froze in indecision as I watched the girl's legs quivering up in her sexual excitement; drops of her juices being thrown off by her vigorous fingering of her clit and dropping all around my exposed shaft. Finally her thighs tensed up and just the faintest sound of slightly familiar climatic groans penetrated into the compartment.

I was about to quickly wiggle out from my hole when I was stopped in my tracks. In a familiar Italian accent laced with Australian vernacular, I was reprimanded...

"You dirty old man. Cracking a hard on just because you thought that pretty young thing with her tits hanging out that I met in the office was standing over you."

Any inclination or attempt to challenge some of the details of that accusation were lost in my surprised reaction.

"ISSIE!"

Any further attempt to wiggle out was forgotten as those wet labia deposited themselves directly onto my manhood and a familiar face stuck itself into the opening of my access compartment.

"Hello Ned."

Issie lifted her hips momentarily to let my erection straighten itself out, then sat on it again, rubbing herself subtly up and down on it.

"My, you are pleased to see me. That's good. I wasn't sure you would be."

"How did you find me and what are you doing here?"

"Liddy told me where you were and sent me down here. And as for what I'm doing, I'm sitting on your wood hoping I can get a good fuck. There's a medical clearance on the table with a one word note from Liddy just say 'YES'. I'll pass them in if you'd like, but I'm not telling lies. And the 'yes' is only referring to one thing."

"I mean, what are you doing here in Australia?"

"Ah Ned, you always were a big picture man. But really? You've just been invited to stick your cock up one of the loves of your life who you haven't seen for the best part of nearly two years and you want a detailed explanation. I've been arranging this with Liddy and the girls since before you guys got back. I'm moving to Australia and into your place and back into your life. It was meant to be a surprise, which it clearly is. Hope you don't mind."

"It's wonderful. But why."

"No, no Ned. Fuck first, talk later. Just a second..."

I felt Issie lift it up my erection. The next thing I knew it was slipping past the leg hem of her panties and into the receptive void of her sex. With my head, arms and hands all trapped inside the engine compartment, I was little more than an inanimate rocking horse as Issue rode me like a demented cowgirl; first to her own climax and then, by tightening around me and increasing the length of the strokes she'd been using, mine.

She continued to sit on me, rocking slightly, until I went flaccid. Only then did she release my shaft from her body and bend forward to again stick her face into the opening of the compartment.

"I needed that Ned. It's been a long time. Are you nearly finished in there?"

The answer to that was no, but that wasn't going to stop me. I would wiling come back and do the job later given Issie's arrival. Besides, the 3/8 socket set I'd taken into the compartment wasn't up to the job. Next time I'd come back with my ½ inch set and a wrench extender.

Issie sat alongside me as I took five minutes to wiggle back out; unhelpfully playing with my flaccid manhood - flipping it from side to side like a kid with a new toy. Then, after I put on some shorts and a t shirt, we retired to the marina's optimistically named coffee shop. Optimistically named because it was nothing more than an extension of the marina office, with the very same Julie making the coffees, cold drinks and milkshakes and serving the industrially made cakes that were the limit of the café's repertoire. Mind you, I had trouble looking Julie in the eye after what had just happened; even though her eyes were by far the safest place to look.

I soon found out Issie's return had been getting planned by the girls for nearly six months. Amy had arranged for her to get a job with the large city based accounting firm she worked for facilitated Issie's 457 visa. It was from the outset planned as a surprise for me; all based on my parting words to Issie of... "don't be scared to come back to us."

It was soon apparent that her maternal instincts were running as hot as they'd ever been. But her return to Italy had been a big disappointment. Her old friend group in the smaller Southern Italian town she'd grown up in had dissolved or changed beyond recognition. Many were married with kids, many had left for the bigger cities. Either way, it just wasn't the same and didn't provide the social outlets she needed to meet the right guys.

She'd gone up to Rome and while she found satisfying work, it still just wasn't happening for her socially. Her taste in men had changed and what she sought just wasn't to be found. She decided the Aussie men she'd met might be more her style and with a readymade girl group here to socialise with, the decision was made to come to Australia. It's just no one had bothered to tell me.

From there the conversation went downhill, at least so far as I might have been worried about Julie - who for all her feigned innocence, was clearly listening in.

I asked in the quietist voice I could, why she fingered herself while she was standing over me. Her jovial reply could be heard next door...

"I didn't know you could see that. I thought you could just see my legs. I was just wanting to prolong the greeting by letting you guess who I was. Let's just say that when you cracked a fat when you thought it was Julie, to use an old cliché, I just found myself growing pleased to see you; or at least your exposed erection anyway."

I peeked across at Julie who must have heard that. She grinned and gave me a mocking stern face. But I couldn't let that statement stand. With a gently inquisitive voice, I challenged her recollection...

"I seem to recall I only cracked a fat after I saw you fingering yourself."

Issie flashed me a witheringly sceptical look before breaking into a smile...

"Alright. You're right. Ned, do you know how many times I've had sex since I left you? Twice. And those twice made me realise how unsatisfying sex with someone I wasn't really in love with felt. I could see myself turning into a desperate slut if I went down that path. So all I've done since is pleasure myself while thinking of you. When I saw you lying there, nearly exposed, I thought I'd just warm myself up a bit while I left you guessing. Then you cracked a fat and became exposed, I sort of got carried away and decided to finish it before jumping on you for a second round.

You know me. How often have you found me with my fingers up my cunt after I've been peeking down the hatch watching you bang someone else? Seeing you lying there so exposed and vulnerable just turned me on; it's been a long time since I've seen your cock, especially after it escaped from your pants."

I could detect a bit of pain in Issie in having to admit how lonely and unsatisfying life had been for her since she'd gone home.

"I'm sorry to hear things didn't work out for you Issie. You certainly deserved better. Those Italian men don't know what they've missed out on."

"That's OK Ned. At least now I can get my sex life back together, even if I won't be satisfying my raging maternal instincts."

That last phrase was accompanied by a wide eyed challenging look. I thought I'd better answer it.

"Well, I'm afraid nothing's changed in that regard."

Issie put her hand over my arm where it rested on the table.

"I know. That's OK Ned. Anyhow, I hear you got a few new techniques with the way you've sent Tash, Ellen and Amy into crazy, mind blowing, seizure orgasms. When do I get one?"

My goodness, do those girls ever not share anything? It was only last week Amy had her first and so far only one. Her physical reaction had been somewhere between Tash's singular muscular kick and Ellen's prolonged multiple muscular contractions. But being Amy, it was accompanied by a scream loud enough to wake the dead which suddenly turned into an alarming gurgle as she did actually pass out momentarily, then come back to a possessed cry that never seemed to end as wave after wave or orgasm wracked her body like she was being tortured by a pleasure too intense to endure. Eventually she was left in a curled up foetal position on the bed; still moaning away. After which she couldn't walk straight for most of the rest of the week.