Unexpected Threesome Ch. 43

Once we had settled in to our routines back home and I'd fixed the cooling problem with the engine, it was time to get back into some friendly competitive sailing with my yacht club.

This consisted of Wednesday afternoon twilight races, without the extra sails called spinnakers, and slightly more serious races on Saturday afternoons. In both cases, there was a pleasant social gathering to be had at the club afterwards.

The girls did their best to be participants in both races; even though that meant juggling work commitments and doing some negotiation with their bosses to get their work hours rescheduled.

Now our boat was no greyhound. It was what is called a cruiser/racer at best. But there are special classes for those sorts of yachts, so we were racing against similar boats. But it did necessitate lightening the boat as much as possible by taking off it all the junk and creature comforts that tend to accumulate when you're living aboard.

For Wednesday's, just the girls as additional crew was in theory more than enough. But we were never shy about including friends and otherwise orphan sailors on the team. The Saturday sailing was more demanding, with the spinnakers making a crew of at least eight preferable; and the more skilled the better.

For a while, as much as possible, I'd taken to sneaking aboard the yacht without having to drop into the office on the way. The girls - and especially Issie - had made it really difficult for me to look Julie straight in the eye, although the knowledge that Amy had blabbed to her about our complex sexual arrangements compounded that.

It wasn't helped at all by the day, shortly after her arrival, when Issie was moaning loudly enough to be heard three jetties away as I knelt on the yacht's bunk, holding her legs vertically in the air in front of me and madly thrusting away at her in what she calls a 'g spot banger'. Now the master cabin has two levels of windows; a low one consisting of a couple of port style windows in the side of the hull of the boat - great for looking out of while you're still lying in bed - and the usual higher ones along the side of the raised cabin top.

From my elevated position I had a panoramic view out the higher one. I watched as Julie, probably attracted by the noise, tentatively approached the boat, her eyes transfixed on the low port window - at least when she wasn't furtively casting about to see if anyone was watch her watch us - and moving back and forward a bit as she adjusted her line of vision. Deciding she had the right horizontal alignment, she squatted, open legged on her haunches, presumably to lower her line of sight and let her view penetrate into the boat further. While admiring the vista of her bulging mound covered in bright blue panties, I tried to triangulate the view she actually had. I guessed there was a very high chance she could see my front crashing into the back of Issie's thighs as I thrust away at her. There was even a fair chance she was angled enough to see some of the length of my shaft emerge from between Issie's legs before I plunged it back in.

Far from being inhibiting, I found myself even more excited by the audience; making my cock feel harder and spurring me to hammer away even harder at Issie. The effect was even greater when I noticed Julie's nipple jut out into high beam erections in her t shirt.

But it probably would have been better if, as Issie reached a noisy climax, Julie hadn't suddenly elevated her eyes to meet mine as I stared out at her. I couldn't suppress a sheepish grin as I quickly looked away, pretending I hadn't noticed her. But I saw her turn beetroot red and scamper away.

But really, it wasn't her fault I was avoiding her. She recovered from her momentary exposure and was always her usual impeccably nice self. Any feeling that I was being judged derived from my own inadequacies, and maybe, just maybe, the knowing look I always thought I detected on her.

And it didn't help that the girls always teased me about us having the hots for each other. The teasing only got worse after the first time we walked down the passage way to the office in a group; the girls noisily announcing our impending arrival with their good humoured chatter and distinctive voices.

Julie was at the office desk as usual. But in this case her normal low cut t shirt was pulled so low on her chest that the rim of each nipple was showing at the end of an impressive breast display, even as she stood there. And as she bent over the desk to check our account, the t shirt fell away from her chest, giving a full down blouse of some rather cute, far from small, youthfully perky and completely exposed, olive skinned breasts; bikini tan lines and all.

My attempt to try and look down at the paper work she was shuffling was interrupted by Ellen, standing closet to me, giving me a firm nudge in the ribs and an amused 'look at that' casting of her eyes in the relevant direction. But the truth was that, where ever I might have appeared to have been looking, my eyes were already compellingly focused on the view she was offering.

Julie looked up at me, nearly catching me staring...

"Just a sec, I'll see if it's on the boss's computer..."

She walked over to the desk at the back of the room. But instead of moving around the desk into the seat, she turned the lap top around and bent over the desk to play with the keys, instantly drawing her mini skirt up to again expose the bulge of a prominent mound, tightly covered in cut-away, flimsy red panties.

Ellen reached down and cupped my balls.

"Just checking."

Still bent over, Julie turned towards me...

"Yep, it's come though on the bank account. I'll print you a receipt."

Julie typed a few more things and an error beep emanated from the printer on the other side of the room. She walked over and looked at the printer's screen. Turning to me, she let me know...

"Out of paper. Just a sec."

A box full of packets of individual reams of paper sat on the floor next to the printer. I'd seen her do this before. Usually she squatted discretely away from the desk as she opened the box, pulled out a new pack of paper, replaced the lid, unwrapped the ream and used the lid to fan and straighten up the stack before transferring it to the printer tray. It would reveal nothing except a lot of leg to even the most lustful observer, even if it was still an interesting show to watch. This time she just bent double while she did the whole thing, revealing the full length of her very cute butt and the thin strip of red, hipster pantie that was so translucent as it stretched, it basically hid nothing.

Ellen squeezed my balls, doing more to get a reaction than the admittedly attractive view we had. She whispered into me ear...

"Calm down fella."

"You caused that."

"Sure, sure..."

Julie reactivated the printer and brought my receipt over to hand it to me with an excessively innocent smile.

"Thanks Julie."

"Any time Ned."

As we walked out of earshot, Ellen couldn't help herself, putting on a mocking imitation of Julie's young sounding voice ...

"Yea, anytime Ned...Sure. She wasn't referring to receipts."

"Don't be silly. She just wasn't thinking about what she was revealing."

She nudged me hard enough to nearly make me stumble.

"Aw, com-ooon. She did everything but take her pussy out and rub it on your cock. She's taken in too much of Issie's talk about you in bed."

Issue cut in, poking me in the rib from behind as she too did a mocking imitation of Julie's young voice...

"I'm just a sweet little thing. It's not my fault if some randy man perves at my exposed body."

"She was just playing with your brains. Why would she have the slightest interest in me?"

"Maybe a good fuck is hard to come by."

"I'm sure Julie can find all the good fucks she wants without having to demean herself by looking to me. It would be delusional for someone my age to think she'd even slightly fancy me. And I'm not delusional."

"You just behave yourself."

"Yea Ned, behave yourself."

But the fact was, Julie's behaviour in my presence had changed. It was probably all just a tease, but if I caught her unawares, I'd find her as she had always been; in a cleavage displaying t shirt and mini skirt certainly. But that's all; even if I was suddenly getting down blouse looks and panty peeks that I'd never noticed before.

But if me or the girls voices pre-announced our arrival, well, let's just say a lot more would be on display as I approached the desk.

And I also started to notice that on Wednesdays and Saturdays she'd be braless, whereas the outline of a bra could always be seen under her tight fitting shirts on other days.

But rest assured, it all came to nothing. I eventually grew confident enough to respond to her flirtations with my own. A little bit of ego boosting mutual fun between us. Nothing more; even if the girls kept teasing me and Julie kept displaying. Anyway, the deal with Liddy might have allowed for Issie's return, but it didn't envisage an endless stream of new, excessively youthful sex partners.

The social functions after the races were as enjoyable as the racing itself. There was a large range of age groups participated, and it was predictable the younger ones would be the last to leave. Generally Liddy and I left just after dinner, leaving Ellen, Issie and Amy to party on. And there was little doubt that for Ellen and Issie especially, the young well built young men who provided the muscle power on many of the crews were part of the attraction.

About 6 months after we'd arrived home, it was apparent that one of the good looking young men from one of our main competitors had an interest in Ellen and that the interest was mutual. He'd spend the night at our table while we were there, and stay on and party with the girls after Liddy and I had left. Harry was a doctor like Ellen and the obvious mutual attraction soon became a major focus of the home gossip.

Their first date was about a month later and was soon followed by a number of others. For the next six weeks, I could tell Ellen felt she was in some sort of pressure cooker situation, which was badly affecting her.

She was still sleeping with me. More than that, her sexual demands were becoming almost frantic. Harry had not yet been elevated from the status of merely being dated to that of boyfriend, so as far as Ellen was concerned, I was still her sexual partner; her only one. But I could see she was torn by the whole situation.

The sex we shared became deeply, deeply emotional. Physical intimacy became Ellen's overriding concern, even more than before; a prolonged physical penetrative intimacy where her emotional state resulted in multiple powerful orgasms for her.

After first sending Tash into one, it had been months before I'd had the same success in giving Ellen a seizure orgasm using the same clit fluttering technique, despite her constant requests for one. At the best of times they're a somewhat rare and random outcome, highly dependent on the woman's level of arousal and receptiveness.

And yet, during that last 6 weeks, she experienced them with increasing frequency and intensity.

As much as I felt the pain of being about to lose her, I was even more concerned she'd destroy her new relationship before it even started because of the stress she was experiencing and the emotional conflict it brought her.

Finally the day came that Ellen announced to me one evening that the coming night would be our last and that the other girls had given me over to her exclusive use, so to speak.

The simple way of describing what followed is to say that, before dawn, we'd had sex six times. But that doesn't come close to describing the real experience. What does having sex six times mean? Really nothing more than I'd climaxed that many times and there was an enforced interlude and a few moments of exhausted sleep before we started all over again.

But it doesn't even start to describe the prolonged penetrative riding of me by Ellen, every time with multiple orgasms of her own, which lead to each of my releases. The sex itself was little more than reverse missionary, the pace slow, the penetration always deep, the movement just enough for Ellen to stimulate her clit, either against my shaft or pubis, and her grip on me never tight.

I'm used to having to service multiple women by now. In a reverse missionary or cowgirl, I can usually let all four of them bring themselves to a climax before I take my turn and Ellen was using that ability to its max and well beyond. Eventually I'd start to brew up; I couldn't last forever. If by some grunt or groan Ellen would sense that, she'd quickly flip me over on top of her, to let me get the most out of my orgasm.

But that would leave her still aroused and half finished and so she'd have me finger her to yet another climax. It was here, as much as in any other part of that night's experience, that I realised the true intensity of Ellen's emotional level.

Three times, after bringing her to the edge of a climax by rubbing her clit with my thumb while I raked her g spot with two penetrated fingers, suddenly rapidly fluttering the tip of my thumb threw her into a climatic seizure even more extreme than the ones she'd had before that night. Her leg muscles spasmed to throw her hips up more violently than before and more times as her loud cry, like Amy's, was suddenly converted to an alarming gurgle as her throat joined the rest of her body in a momentary seizure.

She was then left moaning, quivering and shaking and sometimes even doubled up on the bed for a good five minutes as her body continued to replay her orgasm over and over again. And when that was all over, with the final vestiges of any energy she had left, she wrapped herself around me tightly and held me there as she dropped into la petite mort, which simply became a prelude to a short period of mutual exhausted sleep.

Then all too soon, I'd be woken by Ellen as she played with a refreshed erection and we'd start all over again.

But there was one more, completely unique and very special aspect to that unusual night. Ellen's tears. For almost the whole night as she rode me, she'd be crying. A flood of tears ran down her cheeks until my chest was wet with them and often, as she buried her head in the pillow next to me as an orgasm wracked her body, the silent tears would turn to body heaving sobs and crying.

There were no words possibly capable of soothing her and all I could do was stroke her hair and caress her cheek to hopelessly try and convey my caring for her.

Her final orgasmic spasm happened just as dawn broke. The sun was much higher when I awoke again to find Ellen still asleep in my arms, a new night erection pushing uncomfortably into her stomach.

I lay there, staring into her beautiful face as I wondered at the depth of emotion that had driven Ellen to such heights of sexual passion. As much as I mourned the end of our relationship as it had been, I felt terribly privileged that it meant so much to her. But the reality was, once we got up, something very nice had come to an end.

I drifted in and out of sleep for a while until the time I awoke to find Ellen staring back at me...

"Ned, I don't want to get up. I don't want this to be over."

"I don't want it to be over either. But we both know why it has to end. We've known this day was coming for a while."

"Can we make love one more time?"

"You're in control. It's a decision you can make."

I could see Ellen ponder the issue. The end had to come sometime. But her resolve dissolved as she kissed me and rolled me on my back to mount me one more time to make it seven.

The next time I woke up to find Ellen still asleep, it must have been heading towards noon. Even on a late Autumn day the room seemed incredibly warm. Reluctantly, I decided it was time. I slipped my arm out from under Ellen and got up; dressing quietly as I had one more, maybe last, chance to admire her naked body and headed out to the kitchen to get some sustenance. It had been a long night. It was lucky, or more likely knowing her, good planning that the day after had not been a day when she was on duty.

Ellen emerged half an hour later, dressed only in a flimsy mini nightie. I watched as she walked towards me, hoping I wouldn't be judged badly for making the move to end it, even as I found myself regretting my loss of sexual access to such a beautiful and delightful woman.

Ellen stood in front of me and took both of my hands in hers...

"Ned, I've sort of been practicing this for the last week, but I'm sure it's still going to come out wrong. I want to thank you for the time we've had together. I know we're still going to be friends and see a lot of each other, but I can't ignore a really important part of my life has suddenly gone. The relationship we had was that part; the love, the sex, everything we shared. I'll never forget it; probably never get over it. Thankyou."

She'd caught me unawares. I had no words prepared and if I tried to say what I really felt, I'd probably just tear up. I did the only think I could think of. I hugged her, rocking from side to side as I held her tightly against me...

"My loss is even greater than yours and I'm the one who should give thanks."

We stood there hugging and rocking for a few moments before I decided I had to change the topic.

"How about I get you some breakfast."

It was three days later she had the next date with Harry. She didn't come home that night. She'd told me she wouldn't. As what I knew would be her bedtime passed, I had to fight the feeling of jealously and hurt I felt at the thought that at the very moment, she was making love to another man. I had no right to feel that way, but I did. And that didn't change even as I rather pathetically and unenthusiastically responded to Amy and Issie's sexual needs. Double standard, I know, but also nothing more than human.

For three more months she still lived with us. I lived for her presence, but my physical desire for her was far from waning. It didn't help that the parameters of our on-going relationship were loosely defined.

OK, no actual sex was a given.

But she still wore fuck me clothing; even if it did spur on my performance with the other three. Maybe that's why she wore it.

Every night she was home, and that was about two thirds the time, she'd prance about in the evening in a version of what had become he girls' pre-bedtime wear; flimsy loose fitting cropped camisoles and tiny shorts. Worn without any undies, they essentially did nothing to hide her nakedness from me. Standing anywhere near her, I'd get a straight down blouse of her naked breasts. And when - as she often did - she draped herself languorously on the couch opposite me, she'd leave me with a completely exposed view of her crease. 'Up-leg' doesn't even describe it; the shorts were way too short and open legged for that. No, what little leg length there was would simply fall to the side, completely exposing her.

It's not as though, over the last two years, I hadn't seen a lot of this part of Ellen. The truth is, I'd studied it in some detail; both in its aroused and non-aroused state - although more often the former. What really did my brain in was she'd often be aroused; or more distracting still, grow aroused as she sat there talking to me; her labia swelling and separating, her prominent clit engorging and its hood retracting and sometimes even her vagina forming into a dark, cavernous and receptive circle.

She knew full well the view I had, could not have failed to notice its distractive properties and yet just sit there talking to me as if nothing had changed from the last two years.

And then there was the matter of determining the touching rules and habits.