Unexpected Threesome Ch. 48

When Adam and Shelley joined the boat, there was initially some hesitancy as to how they were dealt with. But eventually the girls started to get quite cheeky with Adam; and Shelley, as she came to understand the nuisances of the game, gave as good as Adam got.

But it also somehow became girls against guys. With Ellen's and Issie's husbands and Adam aboard, that wasn't too bad. On this occasion it was five against two.

Played in flimsy swimwear, regular participants have long since got past the point where a threatened or actual exposure might induce them to release the ball (although a risk of permanent loss of your garment if it gets carried away on a current gets more attention).

When a guy gets tackled, he will often find he's got a girl straddling him trying to jerk the ball out of his arms as she -- accidentally or not - jerks her crotch on his manhood. If it happens to be your wife or lover -- as it often was back home -- that's all well and good. If it's not, well, things can get a bit embarrassing. But then, if it gets you to release the ball, that's the whole point.

Your teammates can come to a tackled ball carrier's defence, which usually just degenerates into multiple wrestling matches as the defenders defend those trying to wrestle out the ball.

By the time this game started the day trippers were packing up for the long trip back to Airlie Beach and the overnighters were near their yachts way down the other, more sheltered, end of the beach like ours was. So we had the area to ourselves.

A blow by blow description of the game would be too tedious. Watching the video I was asked to make of it by having the GoPro in a harness on my chest would probably be way more interesting, but not suitable for YouTube, let along work.

Outnumbered as we were, Adam and I had to resort to using a bit more strength than we might normally have.

None of the girls are much more than 50kg. So going to the other's rescue, we frequently just bodily picked one off the girls piled on the other and tossed them aside. We soon discovered that if the bows on their bikini top came undone as we threw them and the top came loose and was at risk of getting washed out to sea by the outflow of the creek, that would tend to remove them temporarily from the game while they chased it down.

Of course both Adam and I frequently found ourselves flat on the ground, desperately wrapping the ball against our chests as a bevy of women fought you for it. Going down face down didn't protect you from any indignity because two or three of them would simply pick you up by the shoulders and flip you over to give them better access to the ball, while the remainder fended off the other male.

To say that Issie and Ellen, for whom the trip had been a rather long exercise in sexual frustration, really got into the game would be an understatement.

Adam was left playing with a full erection emerging from the waistband of his brief swimwear after the first tackle. I lasted a bit longer, but not much. The first time Ellen tackled me and got on top, she took full advantage of the permission she implicitly had to pleasure herself on me as she fought me for the ball, something that brought my erection up and I'm pretty sure set her up for what seemed to be -- but I couldn't be certain - a sneaky orgasm she gave herself the second time.

Issie was less fussy about which male she was straddling. Adam I suspect was a novelty. But still, the second time she was on top of me, after the ball was stolen from me and in play elsewhere, she loitered momentarily on me, with what I was fairly sure was her crease wrapped half around my erection...

"It's been a long time since I've felt that between my legs Ned. It brings back some really nice memories."

Then she gave me a quick peck on the lips before getting up to add herself to the pile on top of Adam.

Surprisingly, the most devastating player in the game wasn't Adam or myself; who'd never really been into any Australian version of football. It was Liddy, who'd done a lot of practice with her sons as they trained for American football. Her flying tackles could easily take down either Adam or myself in one go, her passes were always spot on target and she was no less willing to play the sexual side of the game -- with Adam or myself -- than the younger girls. Nor was Shelley all that reticent when she found herself on top of me.

Eventually the game degenerated somewhat when the girls reversed the trick we'd been playing of pulling off their bikini tops and consigning them to the tide. When we did it, it took out one out of five players. Two if we were lucky. As Adam came in to help me as I lay on the ground with two girls on top of me, the other three went to block him.

Now it might be hard to pull pants down when someone's lying on the ground. The girls quickly found it a lot easier when it was three against one, the target was standing and his waistband couldn't be tied all that tightly for fear of strangling the erection poking out of it. Caught by surprise, one of them had it down to his ankles in a single pull, whereupon he was pushed over, the garment removed and thrown downstream into the swiftly flowing waters. Which necessitated him chasing after it while I ended up having to eventually surrender the ball to a five to one tug of war with Ellen jerking her crotch furiously along my shaft as she fought me for it.

When they applied it to Adam and me as we chased the ball carrier, the game became a whitewash as the blockers played the pants rather than the man and the ball runner was left unmolested -- an apt description in this game -- while both of us chased down our pants.

Adam and I tried reversing it -- going for the bikini tops, and even their pants, rather than the ball or even the ball holder -- but they had the advantage of numbers, even if it ended up in plenty of naked players. Eventually it became more a game of stripping than of football; although here again they had the advantage. Those tight bikini pants of theirs were diabolical to get off against their resistance when it was one of you and several of them defending the impending strippee.

They won something like twenty to nothing as much as anyone could keep count. But it was riotous, with lots of laughing and fun in a way that's not considered all that proper these days -- if it ever was. I suppose it worked because of the sexualisation of the relationships between and among the Screw Girls and myself while we cruised the Pacific -- remembering that included a BOB element (Bi on the boat) -- and the willingness of later arrivals to participate in elements of that.

By the time we walked back to the boat it was late afternoon. Most of them still preferred to swim back instead of taking a turn in the small tender, with Liddy and myself going shark guard in the tender. So it was a lot of girls in wet bikinis who flopped themselves around the cockpit as we settled in for sundowners (late afternoon drinks for the uninitiated).

This was the first time in the trip we were safely anchored for the night. So while one of us -- me -- had to stay within limits in case anything went wrong, the rest could enjoy a few drinks -- and did. Which made for one of those riotously enjoyable dinners with everyone laughing and generally having a good time.

So it was a somewhat tipsy Amy and Liddy who climbed naked into bed with me that night.

It was clear Amy had decided to take her screaming sex ashore and private while she could, so I doubted whether she'd be making and demands on me that might. Liddy was running ahead of her normal weekly demands, but there's always a possibility a certain fear of missing out when Amy's particularly active increases her demands. But on this night it didn't.

Since this whole crazy polygamous thing initially started with Issie and Amy on our cruise, I've found the safest rule is simply to let them instigate sex, not me, and to be open about who is getting what and when. If one wants sex, let the others know and give it to them. If more than one wants to be part of it, then make it a threesome, foursome or however many it is and give it to them.

In short, I avoid making any decisions about who I have sex with or when.

Slightly more fraught is the question of who I face when I first climb into bed between them and after giving them each a fairly passionate, full body contact, good night kiss. Because inevitably that's who I fall asleep in the arms of for at least the first half of the night.

My loose rule is to face the one who's been less sexually active that day. While that often favours Liddy, it doesn't entirely work out that way because she's often absent on night shift at the hospital where she's an ER doctor. On the whole, it's a rule that has proved to keep me out of trouble; helped by Amy's pretty good understanding of how these things work.

And so, I this night, I gave Amy a big kiss and turned to cuddle up with Liddy. Liddy contented herself with the kiss and cuddle and helped by a few drinks and a busy day, promptly fell asleep.

The sun was just starting to warm the day and light up the cabin of our room when my body clock woke me. Keen to check our position, I crawled out from between the two gorgeous sleeping female bodies sharing the bed with me, wriggled as quietly as I could into a pair of speedos and climbed up on deck to take a fix on our position. I was confident we were safely and securely anchored, but it's always nice to double check; especially in a tidal range like you get in the Whitsundays.

I was standing at the back of the boat enjoying the warmth of the sun and the beauty of our surroundings when I sensed more than heard the patter of lightly taken footsteps behind me. Before I could turn around a pair of soft feminine arms surrounded my waist and a body was pressed tightly against my back.

The flawless olive skin of the arms had already told me, but the voice confirmed it as Amy greeted me...

"Good morning. Nice view."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log. It was a good day yesterday. What time are we leaving for Hamilton?"

"Probably about mid-morning."

"Can you and I go for a walk ashore again first?"

As she said that her hands slid down my stomach to cup my manhood, inducing a predictable reaction. As she felt it grow, she stretched out the front of my swimmers, causing it to develop into what the Screw Girls always called a 'full horizontal'; an erection captured in my swimmers that grows out horizontally instead of being allowed to grow into its normal vertical position. If I'd had any doubts that it was something other than a walk she was interested in -- and I didn't -- that action confirmed what it was really all about.

I spun in her arms to embrace her and give her a good morning kiss, only to find her completely naked. It was a bold move on her part in an anchorage that was not lacking other boats and on a yacht where not all of us had a history of sexual relations. I was amused that, increasingly, the girls were becoming blasé about being exposed to Adam and were inclined to think her should be equally blasé about exposing himself to them.

I bent my knees momentarily to let my erection come between her legs and push up into her crease as she deliberately rubbed her jutting nipples against my chest...

"Of course we can. I suppose we should check to see that Liddy doesn't wat to join us. And maybe you should get dressed."

I patted her on her naked bottom as she turned and skipped lightly through the cockpit and down the companionway, reappearing in an 'old' white bikini. Old, in terms of Amy's bikinis is a relative term given how many she has. In this case about 18 months; bought to go under a lace and mesh mini sheath dress she has that, given its very open weave, definitely needs something under it. The bikini itself is still of the small rectuangular front and Brazilian back with a thin elastic waistband and matched undersized string slide tri top, which is her standard style. Although it does have a propensity to go transparent when wet.

Amy seemed keen to start breakfast and get the morning going, so the others were still sitting around the cockpit having theirs as we nudged past them towards the back of the boat where the inflatable was secured, this time carrying a somewhat bigger backpack than the small one used yesterday.

I have to say, even after all this time, I feel a little strange wishing farewell to a group when they know full well the only purpose of our departure is to find somewhere to have a wild and screaming root. Still, everyone knows what Amy's like and no one even gets the giggles about it any more.

Going ashore in the inflatable took a bit of negotiation with Amy. She wanted to just swim it like the previous day; part of her bikini, sex in the water fetish I suspected. But it was earlier than yesterday, the day hadn't warmed up as much and I thought it wise to bring some dry towels so weren't limited to sex in the water to avoid getting sand in a whole lot of places it didn't belong. The trade-off was to agree we didn't need any clothes other than of swimwear and thongs; although we did include snorkelling gear.

The tide was still on the drop when we left, so even allowing for the change of tide before we got back, it meant we didn't need to haul the inflatable to the top of the beach and it would be easy for the others to swim ashore and get it if they were so inclined.

As Amy and I walked hand in hand up the same path to lead us to the same little cove and beach as yesterday, I formulated how to best go about satisfying her needs.

There's more to satisfying Amy's needs than just a high orgasm count, however important that is. For Amy, as much as if not more than any woman (or man for that matter), love, real love, and an expression of real love are a critical part of it. And when you know her history, you can well understand why.

A G spot banger might be a guaranteed way of getting a high climax count, but personally I find it a bit mechanical and positional. It lacks the intense, prolonged flesh on flesh contact of the best loving sex, even if the visuals for me are pretty good and the endurance it offers me lets me give Amy a lot of physical pleasure.

And then there's always the question of how much to indulge her bikini sex fetish.

That, like so much of Amy's needs, seem to come from her abusive former decade long relationship. Her explanation is that in running down all aspects of her appearance, he didn't hold back on telling her she had an ugly vulva; one she should consider herself lucky any man would be willing to fuck and that he was doing her a favour by penetrating her.

Now the reality is actually the opposite. Like so much of Amy, her vulva is actually stunning. It's of porn star quality in its symmetry, simplicity and beauty. There's a good reason giving her a g spot banger is such a visual delight. And I've told her that many times and I think she sort of believes me. But the simple fact is her stunning beauty and attractiveness when she's wearing a tiny bikini is reinforced in her mind every time she walks past a male in one. She understands why that simple bulge of her mound in her bikini pants is so sexy and desirable. She can see and sense their reaction to her and she willingly laps up the attention it draws. As she says, bikinis make her feel sexy, something of which she was completely deprived for a decade.

Other than my words, she's had nowhere near as much affirmation of her naked vulva as she's had of a bikini covered one.

That seems reasonable to an extent. And yet one gets a sense the story isn't complete.

Discovering the horrors of Amy's history has been a bit like peeling an onion.

We always knew she'd escaped an abusive relationship. Finding out just how bad it was took quite a while. Much of it came in dribs and dabs as incidents sparked some explanation. The real epiphany came when she had a panic attack as we bunkered down in the yacht while the violence of a hurricane raged around us; triggering emotions that she thought were behind her. And in talking to her later about that, we found that violent rape was part of what she suffered. Indeed, because the act of raping her drew the sting of his wrath in the least painful way to her, she eventually developed the art of putting up just enough resistance to absorb his anger while minimising the damage to her.

It's this sort of stuff that has given me so much respect for Amy and a recognition of how much danger she escaped from. It's a respect for her bravery, her cleverness in the way she survived and went about her escape and for her self-healing ability.

But the concern is always that there's an even worse layer of the onion that hasn't been peeled yet. And the incomplete bikini fetish story makes me wonder about that.

When we got down to the beach, I laid out the two towels we'd brought side by side on some reasonably dry but firm sand.

If Amy pushed for this to go in a particular direction, of course I would comply. But for the moment I thought I might start things off. Turning to face her front on, I embraced her, placing my hands on her butt to pull her crotch against the swelling in my swimmers as I kissed her. She willing reciprocated, relaxing against my body as her tongue deeply penetrated my mouth.

I gently tested her willingness to lie down and felt her swoon in my arms as I eased her body to the ground and lay alongside her. Moving to half over her, I nuzzled her cheek as I first cupped the bulge of her mound with my hand; relishing in the feeling of its firm flesh underneath the gossamer material of her bikini pants.

The first touch reminded me she was wearing one her bikini pants she'd cut the lining from, leaving only a single layer of the finest spandex between my hand and her flesh underneath. The removal of the gusset is definitely a sexually directed thing, enhancing her enjoyment of bikini sex; making me wonder if that was why she departed from the mid-blue uniform bikinis that all the girls had worn to date on the trip.

Ever so lightly I slid my cupped hand against her mound, from down between her legs to up over the waistband of her pants, delighting in the fact I could feel first her labia opening up to my touch and then, as I let my fingers push deeper into the concave depression broadening through the gusset of her pants, the damp void of her vagina responding to my touch and dampening the material over it.

Running a finger up the length of her crease, her now swollen clit interfered with its path, eliciting a moan from Amy as the length of my finger was dragged across the sensitive bud.

My own arousal, which started as a feeling of fullness in my manhood from the moment I clasped her hand on the beach, completed itself as an erection pushed out the dry spandex of my own swimwear and managed to raise itself into a tightly sheathed projection nearly touching my navel.

Having ensured she was now receptive to direct stimulation, I started gently stroking the material covering her clit, enjoying the feeling of it first dampening and then turning wet with her juices as a result of my playing with it.

To let Amy easily vocalise her excitement, I avoided kissing her and instead continued to nuzzle her cheek and started to gently bite her neck, before bending down to suck her already hardened nipple through its bikini covering.

The two girls in my life who've I've always loved fingering the most are easily Ellen and Amy. Both are devoid of hair down there, so there's nothing to abrade or camouflage what you feel. But that almost seems to be normal these days. So more specifically, Ellen because her clit was bigger than normal and a lot of fun to play with. Amy because she gets so wet and so easily excited to the stimulation of it. It's just so rewarding to stimulate her this way.