Unexpected Threesome Ch. 52

It was maybe half an hour that I lay there, looking at Ned's sleeping face and watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

When I'd woken up, his nose was under my cheek, so I'd pulled my head back a bit to let him breathe more easily and for me just to be able to stare at his sleeping countenance.

His upper arm rested over my shoulder, the lower one cupped my lower breast, its contact with my nipple and the way it had tightened to his touch perhaps adding to the erotic dreams that had occupied my night.

With my lower arm comfortably under the gap between his shoulder and the pillow, I was trapped and unable to move. Not that I wanted to. I could almost feel the pulse of Ned's heart throbbing through the hard erection captured so deeply inside me.

I watched as he drifted back to wakefulness. His eyes half opened but it seemed, before his consciousness fully returned, a more primitive part of his brain, detecting some unexpected capture of his manhood, caused his body to stretch and arc, pushing his erection even harder into me and screwing it around as his legs tightened; all accompanied by a rather satisfied hum.

Then, finally, Ned was with me, looking me straight in the eye as he whispered...

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

"You certainly crashed hard and fast last night."

"Hard is perhaps an appropriate word at the moment. It's almost like there's unfinished business."

"Oh I think we've had a few finishes since then. There could be quite a cum build-up in there when our bodies separate. We might drown in the stuff."

"Well I think it needs a freshen up with new stuff to give it a good flush out."

I was already sliding up and down on his erection when Ned replied...

"Is that right? We'll have to try and not wake Liddy."

"I was very good last night. I'll be very good again this morning."

That was a promise easy to make, but harder to keep. You'd think suppressing my tendency to scream during sex easy. For me, it's not. But I resolved to do my best.

Ned slowly rolled me on my back, mounting me missionary style.

Taking the weight on his haunches, he nuzzled my cheeks and kissed me before nibbling down the side of my neck until he arched his back to let him suck my nipple while retaining full penetration; placing the palm of his hand over the other one.

As he started to suck it, the areola puffed into its volcanic cone while the nipple on top of it hardened and extended, until the areola was between the lips and the tip of the nipple pushed against the roof of his mouth as his tongue stimulated it.

That, with the other nipple being stimulated between the fingers of his hand, had me squirming in pleasure under him. Only then did he drop his hips deeper between my legs, partly withdraw and thrust firmly back in; the upward directed thrust raking across my g spot in a way only Ned seems to know how.

I had to bite my lip to surpass a moan. G spot orgasms send me right over the top. As he repeated it another two times, it was too much. A far from quite moan escaped me. A couple more I be cumming while screaming like a banshee.

As he pulled back for another one, I raised my head to bring myself as close as I could to his ear as mouth kept driving me crazy as he sucked my nipple...

"Flatten out or I'm going to start screaming."

Ned knew my body. He knew what I meant. He also knew simply missionary vaginal sex was well capable of giving me a pretty good orgasm, even before the stimulation of my nipples. He didn't have to hit my g spot as hard as he was to get there.

He did as I asked, his shaft slipping easily in and out of my well lubricated sex at a constant, moderate pace, as I gripped it fairly firmly, my breathing already growing heavy and noisy as my excitement built.

But I kept my promise. As I came I might have demonstrably raised my hips and groaned, but not loud enough to wake Liddy. Or at least she was kind enough to pretend so, since she continued to just lie there seemingly asleep.

In my post orgasmic hormonal bliss, I looked up at Ned as he kept thrusting towards his own orgasm. He was, in every sense, doing his man thing; his shaft pleasuring itself inside my body to induce it to release his seed which would then struggle to penetrate even deeper into my being in a forlorn hope of fertilizing my pill protected gametes.

I had thought he was fully aroused and hard when I first woke to feel his manhood inside my body. But I realised, as I felt his erection swell and harden further, it had been in a more relaxed state of arousal. But the pleasure induced by that additional swelling was written all over Ned's face. Not in a smile, but in a look of complete bliss.

As I watched him move his body over me, I was drawn yet again to the way it was so pleasingly firm and muscular. There would be few guys half as old as Ned who would have a body as good as his. It was a well-earned reward for him joining me in our morning runs and exercise regimes. It excited me to think that he was my male. Not mine alone because I shared him with Liddy. But that didn't diminish that part of him that was mine.

Compared to my previous experience of male relationships, I was in a world of love and commitment I couldn't have imagined existed.

Rather than making him come in a heaving rush, I eased the grip I had on him, trying to find that goldilocks zone of prolonging his pleasure while not diminishing the intensity of it.

His gaze was intensely on my breasts. Knowing the effect that has I him, I tried to exaggerate the wobbling of them induced by the slight rag dolling of my body as his thrusts crashed into me.

Needing to touch him, to encourage him in his desires, I lifted a hand to stroke through his hair and down his strong arm, being careful not to block his view of my breasts.

But Ned's continued steady thrusting was having an effect on my all too sensitive body too. It didn't seem all that long before, caught in the moment, another orgasm built and rapidly exploded inside me before I could fully control it, causing me to groan louder than I would have liked and throw my hips up violently enough to nearly throw Ned off as a prelude to grasping his butt and holding him into me on full penetration as my vaginal contractions pummelled his shaft.

As my orgasm passed and I relaxed back onto the bed again, Ned restarted his thrusting; the steady in and out movement of his shaft, each thrust brought to a sudden stop as the base of his shaft collided with my mons and vaginal opening.

I could tell Ned was starting to brew up. It's something I love to watch. His eyes -- still intensely focused on my breasts - start to squint as his lips alternate between forming an 'o' and pursing around a not quite silent 'ooohhh' sound.

He was trying to supress the groans of his pleasure, but not entirely succeeding.

I've seen Ned cum often enough now to know what makes a good one for him. I've seen him have hyper intense orgasms that brew and boil over in a flash. And I've seen him have ones that slowly ferment; teasing him with a prolonged cock pleasuring intense enough to elicit groans of real pleasure, but just below enough to boil him quickly over. And if we get it right -- because these things are a team effort -- he gets the best of both worlds; a prolonged cock teasing pleasuring, finishing with an orgasm of mind blowing intensity.

I could tell his manhood was highly sensitised. The thrusting was delivering real pleasure to him in spades and had been for a generous bit now.

I was pleased when he'd occasionally stop; holding himself on full penetration, aware that a single additional prematurely taken thrust would spill his seed before he wanted too.

Then he'd start again; the groan that accompanied that first recommencing thrust telling me everything about the shot of pleasure it set cascading through his erection and up to his brain.

My sexual demands on Ned have done nothing if not give him plenty of opportunity to practice getting the best out of his own finishes.

He'd only thrust maybe three or four times since his last pause when he suddenly burst into a flurry of crazy fast thrusting, then froze on full penetration, his leg and butt muscles as tight as a drum. I felt his manhood surge, then pulse as the first rope of seed sprayed forcefully against my cervix and Ned only partly managed to muffle the bellowing groan that usually accompanies an orgasm of such intensity.

Ned collapsed down on me, his head alongside mine as his body took control; groaning loudly as it alternatively froze him then pushed him into another short flurry of thrusting as additional ejaculate was added to the collection already in my body.

And then, the piece de resistance of a brain blowing climax, the moan inducing periodic shakes and shudders of little mini after climaxes as his balls seemingly do a final sweep of their chambers to collect every last drop of seed and send it down his shaft to join the rest in my receptive vagina.

By that time, all I can do is lie there, being a willing receptacle of something that gives him such pleasure; stroking his hair in encouragement and, when he's completely finished, kissing and cuddling him like a mother congratulating a child on a brilliant achievement.

I like it because it makes Ned even more lovey and cuddly after we're finished and it leaves his erection seemingly reluctant to surrender its hardness even if he can't go another round with it.

And contrary to his prediction, we didn't drown in the accumulated cum as he withdrew his erection. My body seems to have more than adequately dealt with whatever was deposited there overnight; although the morning's delivery created a bit of a mess.

But as the sun rose, it was time to surrender him to the day, letting him get out of bed and following directly behind him.

Ned put on his speedos, letting me tuck the sticky residue of his erection into them, adjusting the stretchy material to hold it stuck out horizontally and then play with it by running my hand up and down the sheathed projection I'd created before covering them with a pair of shorts and a t shirt.

We were going out to breakfast, so I wanted to put on something nice. I chose the plunging neckline, white lace and netting sheath mini-dress; the one I should wear a white bikini under to make it decent. It was one of those dresses that are mostly made of a very open weave lace, but the lace is more densely woven over the breasts and around the groin and bum to provide some modesty. And it was. To a point. But not enough if you don't want certain things to be on display.

I put the bikini pants on -- a very brief Brazilian cut - but figured on a holiday Island I could get away without the bikini top underneath. Sort of. Because, as I knew they would, my breasts stretched out the lace, opening the weave, making much of my breast not already displayed by the plunging neckline, discernible underneath and letting my nipples push through a hole they make in the weave and project to the outside of the dress. And as the lace surrounding the nipples stimulated them as I walked and the dress moved against me, they projected further; little dark brown knobs poking through.

When you're on holidays and trying to give your boyfriend a hard-on you can do this sort of stuff. Most people passing by had to look at least twice to notice. But there were plenty of those.

Through all of this and until after we left the room, Liddy had continued to just lie there; seemingly asleep, her naked body uncovered and sprawled seductively across her side of the bed.

It's hard to tell with Liddy whether that's a courtesy, letting us finishing in peace, or she really is still asleep. I may not have been screaming; but there was some far from silent moaning and grunting happening. And while our activities may not have left her body bouncing around on the bed uncontrollably, a certain amount of movement must have been transmitted to her; especially as I nearly threw Ned off with one of my orgasms.

But then, we all learned to sleep at sea with a yacht rocking and rolling, creaking and groaning with the forces of nature and people on watch running around on deck above us and sometimes yelling for action. So it's not impossible.

By the time we left to go down to breakfast, Liddy, Ellen and Harry had all joined us.

As Liddy walked ahead with Ellen and Harry and I found myself walking hand in hand with Ned, I had to ask...

"So, did you have a wet dream during the night or just get uncontrollably randy?"

"A wet dream. Until I met you, I hadn't had any of those since I was a teenager."

"Yea, well that's what sleeping with your cock in a woman's vagina will do to you."

"Who would have guessed?"

"What were you dreaming about to trigger it?"

"I was passionately making love to you as we swam underwater. It was funny, but needing to breathe didn't come into it. It was like we were a mermaid and merman, except you didn't have a fish tail."

"Were we naked?"

"Yes. Completely and very beautifully so. Our bodies were completely intertwined. I don't think real mer-people wear clothes except in Disney movies."

"Pity. I prefer bikini still on."

"If my subconscious self was aware of that, it chose to defy you. By the way, you know I was pretty sure you were in the middle of an orgasm when I woke up just before I ejaculated. In fact I think it was that which triggered me. Did you have any sex dreams?"

"A whole night of them. And yes, they included dreams about having an orgasm. More than one if I recall correctly. We'll have to sleep like that more often."

"And what were your dreams about?"

"Variations on rolling around on the water's edge with you as you crazily fucked the arse off me. And yes, I still had my bikini on."

"We both seem to have water fetishes, but I think we need to take you to have a talk to someone about your bikini one."

"You're the best mental health assistant I'll ever have. We both know my bikini fetish is somehow interwoven with a less favourable part of my past in a way that isn't clear to either of us. But I think you can deal with it."

I watched as Liddy separated from Ellen and Harry and turned around and waited until we caught up, taking Ned's other hand as we came past. She looked stunning in a spaghetti shoulder strapped mini sheath dress. Her large perkily projecting breasts opened up a virtual cavern down the front of her dress that every male walking past was angling to get a look down.

It must be a funny sight to strangers. Most assume I'm the daughter of Ned and Liddy because I look so much like a younger Liddy and we certainly have similar tastes in clothes. At least until they hear my British accent against her New York one. But then they probably wonder why a dad is holding his daughter's hand with it dragged across her thigh and held against her crotch.

We went to the café along the waterfront for breakfast, not being there for long before Julie came past, and still dressed in the dress she was wearing last night. I rushed out to intercept her and have her join us for breakfast.

She was reticent because of the statement the dress made. Walk of shame and all of that. But we weren't far from the yacht. She said she hurry there and come back as soon as she could. True to her word, she was back in five minutes, dressed in the boat's hot pants and crop top uniform, with Issie accompanying her.

As Shelley and Adam joined us soon afterwards, we had the whole boat crew there.

It wasn't for nothing that I'd manoeuvred Julie to sit next to me. With the raucous conversation going on, I took the chance to ask...

"Did you have a threesome last night?"

"It depends what you call a threesome. If you mean three people in the bed at the one time, no. I'm not going to get myself spit roasted while the guys high-five their exploits over me. But I did enjoy them in succession while I made the other one wait outside the room."

"We're you worried about them being bigger than you and not following your directions?"

"Men are a bit like horses. They might be bigger and stronger than you, but they have to be taught who's boss and that they have to obey. Of course, you can get arsehole men as much as you can get arsehole horses. That sort of horse ends up in the knackery. It's a pity the men can't be dealt with the same way. But it just means you have to put a bit more work into evaluating the men before you deal with them."

It occurred to me that there was a man in my past who I dearly wish could have the knackery solution applied to him for the good of all womankind. Still, I was intrigued.

"So how did you control them?"

"Well, I already knew them pretty well.

You probably don't know, but in the serious racing scene there's a fable...rule...legend...joke...I'm not sure what you call it. Anyway, it's that the owners are rich, entitled and patronising bastards who treat their crew like scum, but they never know that the bowman is fucking their daughter behind his back. Now dad was none of entitled, patronising or a bastard, and not really all that rich, but the bowmen were certainly fucking his daughter; but even there, not behind his back.

Well, they were the bowmen on dad's TP52.

And I just told them they have to take turns and the one who gives me the best sex gets to have me sleep in their bed overnight with a good prospect of a bit more of the fun stuff in the morning."

"Why is it the bowman?"

"Because to work the bow on a boat like that you have to be a combination of athletic, brave, smart enough to get a complex set up right every time and cocky and crazy enough to be up there in the first place. And if you're that cocky and crazy you're more likely to think you're in with a chance with the owner's daughter and if you're that athletic, brave and smart, she's more likely to give you a chance."

"So how did they go about winning the bedroom stakes?"

"Tony fingered me to an orgasm then went missionary on me. Greg fingered me, went down on me, fingered me again, and then asked if I'd like to go cowgirl on him. He gave me three orgasms and was an easy winner. And then I rode him cowgirl again this morning, so he got his reward."

"How did Tony take that?"

"He knew the rules. He'll try better next time. Even just watching me go cowgirl on Greg would have taught him something."

"Will he get a next time?"

"I don't know. It's a bit like an Olympic village here as far as I'm concerned. A sea of eligible athletic males to graze on. All that's lacking is the communal bowl of condoms, so you have to bring your own. And the odds are heavily stacked in the girls' favour. So I'll see what comes along.

What about you? Did you enjoy yourself dancing with my friends? Well, sort of friends."

"Yes, I had a good night. But I couldn't say I met anyone who made me wonder whether I could do better than going home with Ned."

Julie seemed to pensively consider my response for a moment...

"Yea, he's a dish. I don't blame you. If he was free, I'd even give him a go. He's fun to flirt with as it is, but it's a pity they don't make younger versions."

"There's a younger version. He has a son who's like him in every way. But he's married."

"Pity about him being married. Yea, the good ones go early."

Julie and I have been friends since shortly after we got back from the Pacific cruise. There's much about her I admire. Certainly her awesome intelligence and confidence. And yet I didn't envy her love life. The emotional connection and just human relationship that is so important for me seems to be lacking; at least in terms of her cruising the boat park for males to sleep with during this week.

Still, she's young and maybe sleeping around will give her a better insight into her future more permanent partner. Certainly better than I had when took up with Frank.