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"What division are you in?"
"What sort of boat is this?"
"Where are you staying?"
"What's your name?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
And of course...
"Can I get your number?"
For which the answer is always, sorry, no. At least until I know they'll be happy in the 'friend' zone.
Still, it was a bit strange. I'm standing on a boat deck, well over a meter above their base, so they're looking up me; sometimes at my face, but just as often into my crotch with its tiny bikini covering or up at the underside of my barely covered breasts. As I scanned the group of faces looking up at me, just what they were staring at was always obvious.
I was pleased I didn't feel the slightest bit lacking in confidence or insecure as I stood there talking to them; even knowing the slightly legs askew stance one always adopts on a boat gave them a wonderful view of the concave ridge I know always runs through the crotch of my bikini pants.
Indeed, the elevated positioning had an advantage, whatever exposure it induced. It was like being on a stage. It left me feeling in control and removed from any possibility of an excessive press of bodies, even if I don't get that freaked out by some guy putting himself well inside my personal space.
Ned looked as though he was going around securing the boat. But I knew he was keeping an eye on me; not because he resented me being chatted up by a whole lot of guys -- he almost encourages that -- but because he knows I have limits on how far I like that to go. The attention is flattening and I completely revel in it, but if I guy gets too insistent, I like to be able to run for cover. And Ned -- and some of the others who know me - were standing by to provide that cover if I needed it.
Eventually I was left with two very insistent suitors. Ned could tell I was trying to politely break away from them. Standing in the companionway, he called to me...
"Amy, do you want to come in and get dressed so we can go up to register?"
Which gave me an easy...
"OK. Sorry guys got to go."
Ellen, also looking out for me, excused herself from the couple of males talking to her, came over to me, grabbed me by the hand. With a...
"Come on, we'd better not keep Ned waiting..." she led me to just turn away and disappear down the hatch.
After a cool drink down below to let the scene we'd created settle, we put on our summer boat uniforms; the brief, tight fitting hot pants and crop top for the girls and shorts and tight fitting t shirts for the guys - all in mid blue. We didn't really need to all go up to the race office to register, but there's a mood to a regatta this big that we all wanted to be part of; if not to add to it.
It was a strange sight I have to admit. The whole crew in their uniforms, parading down the dock and then along the waterside promenade towards the race office. Strung out in groups of two or three as we walked, you could see the gaze of every eye -- male or female -- locked onto our group as they walked past us; always with a friendly greeting which we reciprocated.
The race office was up some stairs and a ramp in a large concrete building that overlooked the channel outside the marina that we'd sailed down not that long ago. Inside a very crowded office was a long line of tables with information relevant to our stay and, at the end, where Ned would register and pick up the Sailing Instructions.
As the rest of us surveyed the offerings on the tables, it was clear some of the guys in the room were using the press of bodies to make physical contact with us. I'm not talking about a grope of a breast or crotch. No, more a bringing together of hips, or even the front of their pants pushed firmly against your butt as you leaned over the table. More the sort of contact that can be passed off with a...'sorry'... and as an excuse to start a conversation.
Now I know in this modern world some women are going to regard such uninvited contact as a sexual assault or worse. None of us girls felt that way. We'd knowingly created this situation and each for their own reason found it unobjectionable at the least, and sometimes empowering, even if the situation might have been differently perceived by me if I was in a dark alley by myself.
I was definitely in the empowering category. After all, this situation was the very opposite of the one on Papeete nearly three years ago, where a day out with Issie had left me depressed because all the guys were chatting her up while all but ignoring me; simply because she was dressed (or more like undressed) in her 'look at me' outfit while I was still dressed in the frumpy, figure hiding clothing Frank had trained me to wear. It had left me feeling rejected and ugly -- the very emotions Frank had spent so long inducing in me.
It was Ned's gentle talk to me that night that had led to my epiphany (and ultimately to his bed). And that resulted in me walking around here in male attracting clothing and enjoying the effect it had on them and the attention it brought me; even if I knew to only do it where my safety could be assured from the small number of men who might consider it an invitation to something it wasn't.
With the registration complete, Ned picked up the Golf Buggy we'd booked -- the only versions of cars on the Island -- and we used it to transfer our gear, and everything else we didn't want on our boat while we were racing, up to our three bedroom unit.
It took a couple of trips, but, after taking turns having a refreshing shower, we finally felt that we were properly moved into the unit that would be our accommodation for the next week.
The next thing on most of our agendas was to satisfy our need for the sort of food indulgences you can't get on a small yacht - ice cream, expresso coffees, even just really fresh bread -- magnified by the fact it was lunchtime.
But I realised other indulgences needed to be satisfied when Ned sidled up to me as I was discussing what we were going to go chasing with Ellen and Issie, and quietly indicated...
"Liddy and I might hang back and spend some time here, if you know what I mean. Do you want to stay too?"
I looked at him. Dear Ned, always trying to do the right thing. I'm sure he knew Liddy would like some time alone, but he felt compelled to make sure I was happy to surrender him to her for an hour or so rather than make it a threesome. So it wasn't a request for me to stay, so much as a precautionary invitation.
After what he'd given me at Whitehaven beach this morning, I felt Liddy was more than deserving of some private time with him. As he stood squatting alongside me I slid my hand up the leg of his pants and cupped his balls...
"I'm happy to leave you to Liddy. I'm sure she'd prefer that. Give us a call when you're finished and we might tell you where we are."
We'd noticed a nice looking café down by the harbour, so the rest of us decided to go there for lunch. We were about to walk when Ned suggested we take the Golf Cart, indicating he and Liddy would be happy to follow us on foot.
So the five of us -- its maximum load -- piled into the golf cart; Ellen driving, me in the passenger seat and the other three across the back where golf clubs would be stowed when used for its designed purpose.
We were just driving over the ridge that divides the beachside of the Island from the harbour when I felt this really strange sensation between my legs; well, strange if I'm not in bed with Ned. I felt as if I was being penetrated and becoming highly aroused in response.
As I looked down, a wet patch was soon developing in the crotch of my micro shorts. Ned has always said I'm the wettest woman he's even known when I get aroused. He means it in a good way when we're having sex. But it might not be so good when you're walking around a crowded resort in tight fitting, gaze attracting clothing.
This wasn't the first time this has happened. It's not a frequent thing, which is either good or bad depending on where I am when it happens. I don't know how or why I respond like I do, but it is triggered as Ned has sex with Liddy. When it first happened I thought it must just be a response to knowing Ned was fucking Liddy at about that time. But when it happened at work, in the middle of the day with no foreknowledge of their carnal intentions, and a subtle check with Liddy later confirmed that my reaction and the timing of their carnal games coincided, then the weirdness factor went through the roof.
I've Googled it and couldn't find any sensible references to psychic sexual arousal; but then, who knows what words you should Google to search such a strange thing.
In my mind, if this is psychic driven, as it seems it must be, the connection must be to Ned, not to Liddy. I'm really good friends with Liddy but I just don't feel the sort of bond with her that could possibly drive such a strange phenomenon. With Ned on the other hand, I just feel this incredibly loving, all embracing sense of oneness. I might not have the interlocking auras that seem to exist between he and Ellen, but the sense of oneness is there just the same.
Why if the connection is to Ned, I'd feel a woman's arousal and penetration instead of a feeling of a male appendage penetrating a woman, again I don't know. The thing is I'm more a psychic sceptic than a believer, but I have no real alternative explanation.
Sometimes the connection is weak, and it will be a momentary sensation, sometimes powerful, on one or two occasions enough to make me cum.
This connection was a powerful one. By the time we pulled up at the café I was having trouble controlling my breathing, let alone not starting to moan. And I could feel the gusset of my pants, now hidden between tightly closed legs, wet with my juices. As the other's got out of the cart, I slid into the driver's seat and told them...
"I just have to get something from the yacht."
Quickly driving off and parking as close to the jetty as the traffic control would allow, I got out and sprinted down the jetty to the yacht, thankful we had a berth close to the shore end. It took every ounce of determination I had to make it into the cabin where all I could do was drop onto my knees moaning as I struggled to get my shorts off.
I'd just discarded them onto the bunk alongside me when, with my hand pressed firmly between my legs onto the soaking wet gusset of my bikini, I half turned towards the bunk and face-planted myself into it to supress the moans as I came. And then came again.
I knew Liddy likes cervical stimulation and orgasms. If that was what they were indulging in, then this could go on for an hour. A pleasurable hour, but one hard to explain to the others.
As the extreme stimulation momentarily eased off, I crawled into our master cabin and onto the bunk where I took off my crop top, leaving me dressed only in my bikini. I'd only just got to lie on my back when it started again. Realising I might start screaming as I often do during sex, I rolled over onto my face, once again using the bunk to muffle my moans as I came again. It seemed things were building to a crescendo between Liddy and Ned -- if that is what was driving this. The stimulation was extreme; almost like the g spot bangers Ned gives me. I thought I might even end up squirting.
And then, it was as if I could feel a throbbing of Ned's manhood inside me and the pulsing jets of his cum. One final powerful orgasm left me moaning then panting into the bunk cushion.
As I regained my composure, I could feel I was a wet mess down there. I hadn't squirted, but was wet with my juices just the same.
I eased myself out of my bikini pants and put on a fresh pair which I'd left aboard, taking them into the bathroom to rinse them before going on deck to loop both them and the hot pants around the lifeline to dry in the sun and wind.
Scared he might go a second round, I put on an A line mini skirt over my bikini pants, rather than another pair of hot pants, before driving back to join the others; trying to look far more composed than I felt.
Ellen's eyes settled on me the moment I walked into the café. I saw her scan me up and down, noticing the change of clothes. I figured she might assume I'd got caught out by a time of month thing.
As I approached, she signalled for me to take a chair next to her. Almost as soon as I sat down, she whispered into my ear...
"Did you feel it too?"
My head nearly fell off my neck and my eyes out of their sockets as I jerked back to look at her. The reaction was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. She raised her eyebrows as some sort of nonverbal communication that we were sharing something. This wasn't something we could discuss in company. Looking at the others, Ellen took my hand as she announced...
"We'll be back in a sec."
She dragged me outside where we found a public seat facing the water a little out of the way of passing foot traffic.
"Was that your first time?"
I could tell Ellen was circling around, unwilling to reveal the weirdness of what she was talking about until she was absolutely certain we were on the same page. It would only take a 'first time for what' answer from me to derail the conversation.
"No."
"Is it often or just sometimes?"
"Just sometimes. Not very often really."
"Do you ever come?"
"Rarely, but yes. I did just then."
Ellen finally found the confidence to say the words...
"So you can feel Ned inside you when you think he's making love to someone else?"
"I know he's making love to Liddy. I can check back when I get home."
Ellen visibly relaxed when I gave her a straight answer. She was clearly concerned that I'd recoil in horror or amusement.
"What do you think is causing it?"
"I haven't got a clue. I've Googled it and couldn't find anything. If I was superstitious, I might have said it was some psychic force. A bit like identical twins can sometimes feel what their twin is going through even though they are separated by a distance."
"I always thought it had something to do with what we refer to as our pheromoneal connection. But that still doesn't explain it really. And while he loves you more than anyone else in the world, the pheromoneal thing isn't really your show. So I don't really know."
"Is there any pattern to it for you?"
"When I've spent a lot of time around Ned but are a bit sexually deprived. The last week has been intense. When I said I was fingering myself as he was making love to you on the yacht over the last week I wasn't being entirely honest in my reply. A lot of the time it felt like he was fucking me while he was fucking you. The finger just finished the job.
Even when you and Ned disappeared into the bush on the islands we visited, I often had to go in for a swim so I could deal with the sensation of getting fucked without attracting attention.
The strongest one was on Kepple Island. All I could do was float on my back with my legs wide apart with the sensation of Ned raking my g spot as he was giving you the g spot banger. I came time after time as I found myself jerking my hips around in imitation of the rag dolling his g spot bangers used to do to me. It would have looked pretty weird to anyone watching. Thank goodness I don't have to yell like you do. I nearly drowned as he then went the animal on you because I couldn't get my footing on the sand quickly enough before I felt him pounding me.
And poor Harry with his reputation for treating my bikini pants as cum catchers when we get home from a day's sailing isn't being dealt with entirely fairly. You live closer to the boat and get home well ahead of us and I suspect have sometimes got into it pretty quickly. There were times I threw myself aggressively on him as soon as we got in the door to smother the feelings I was having.
What about you? Is there a pattern?"
"A bit the same, except what constitutes sexually deprived is probably different for me. But I've been trying not to impose my screaming on the others on the yacht, so that meant I wasn't always getting the sort of sex Ned usually gives me."
"But haven't you done fairly well with the Island sojourns?"
"Yes, so I suppose all can say is that our sex life is all over the place, so maybe disruptive in that sense."
We sat there in silence, pondering the strangeness of the situation, until Ellen added...
"Well I'm glad I'm not the only weird one. Should we worry about it? Does Ned know?"
"I don't think I could tell Ned. He worries about exploiting me with our age difference enough as it is. Adding this would have him sending me off for therapy. As for worrying about it; I don't see how that helps. I'd love to be able to explain it, but don't really see how we can ever get to do that.
But how did you know I was feeling it too; or were at least confident enough about it to ask me?"
"Just your breathing and a little bit of suppressed moaning as we got out of the cart. Your legs were tightly together and your hips tense. Something was going on that went way beyond other ladies stuff."
It was then I heard Ned's voice behind me. Turning around I saw he and Liddy walking towards us, hand in hand and Shelley and Adam further up the road walking back in the direction of the unit; clearly going to take their turn for some privacy. Ned's voice penetrated the fog my brain had fallen into in dealing with the strange conversation I'd just had...
"Hello ladies. What are you doing out here?"
"Enjoying the sunshine while I had a girlie gossip with Ellen. But I haven't eaten yet, so was just about to go up for some lunch."
We all retired into the café until half an hour later when, just after we watched Harry's plane land on the Island runway, Ellen headed back towards the unit where she had agreed to meet him. Ned, a bit innocent of the arrangement, asked me where Ellen had disappeared to...
"She's arranged to meet Harry at the unit. Things were getting a bit desperate for her. Harry's going to get his balls torn off when he walks in the door."
Ned giggled at the mental picture I'd created for him. He'd experienced Ellen going wild in the bedroom. Getting your balls ripped off wasn't far from the mark. When that cute butt I mentioned earlier gets itself worked up on top of you, the word 'pounding' doesn't even start to describe it.
It was shortly after Ellen left us that Shelley and Adam wandered back to join us; walking in just as I was sending a text, letting our new crewperson know where they'd find us.
So we were sitting at the dockside coffee shop, enjoying a cappuccino when I noticed a familiar face walk past, looking a little lost. It was Julie, from the office of the marina where we normally keep our boat.
As Ned will tell you, Julie is one of those office managers who are invaluable to their employers. Even though she's little more than 20 years old, she basically runs just about all aspects of the marina, always seems to know what's going on, gets what needs to be done, done and can tell you where to find or buy just about anything you might need on a boat.
And it's all done with a rather pleasant, friendly and appropriately chatty charm that keeps the customers coming back; especially the middle age and old male customers -- who are the majority of boat owners.
When you add to that a petite, stunningly attractive and big breasted figure, usually dressed in a micro mini skirt and a cleavage displaying t shirt, pretty face and charming countenance, you can see why she'd be good for the business of a marina that is generally catering to that demographic.
Julie is actually a very good friend of mine. We spend a lot of time chatting. So it would be fair to say that Ned's relationship with her got a little more complex when a combination of me downloading to her on our sexual relationship and her getting a couple of good views through the cabin windows of our boat of Issie having somewhat vigorous and noisy sex with him, caused her to become somewhat more flirtatious with him. That manifested itself in the form of down blouse exposures of her breasts and her being more inclined to bend over the desk behind the counter in his presence, causing her skirt to ride up and expose her brief, sexy and not always opaque panties.
