Unexpected Threesome Ch. 52

I picked out the best looking guys and those who seemed to be the most interesting.

But the result I was testing for was always the same. Sort of nothing. Well, not very much anyway. Yes, sure, a little bit of arousal; especially with those I let go too far. And that was generally because I felt some degree of attraction to them in the first place. But I've never denied I'm an outlier in my sexual responses. Ned doing half as much as I let them do would have me wetting the gusset of my bikini pants with my anticipatory juices. With them? Nothing like it.

That's not to say I didn't have an effect on them. Basically, the closer their hands got to my crotch, the bigger the erection that grew in their own pants; which whether they were wearing speedos or undies, was basically unhideable. And when I stood up to move on from those whose lap I sat on and who did get a feel, it was knowing there was a full erection pressing against my thigh, weeping pre-cum from the top.

One or two had tried to go for the pash as I sat on them; but that's where the boundary definitely lay.

It was nothing if not good for my ego; a nice little proof that Frank was just gaslighting me when he spent a decade telling me how ugly and sexually repulsive I was; all while bashing and raping me.

Nothing was happening that would suggest I was being irrational and clingy in staying with Ned instead of looking for someone more my own age.

Sure the test was unscientific and had the rest of the week to run, and the casual and crowded circumstances in which I was testing myself hardly made for an uninhibited response from my body to whatever they might have been allowed to get away with. But I knew that if I'd gone and sat on Ned's lap in that crowd, I would have had to go below and change my bikini pants because of the visibly damp patch in the gusset I would have been displaying afterwards.

And of course, there's more to testing a relationship than mere sexual response. But it's not a bad start.

After about an hour, we called last drinks on the gathering to go back to the unit to get ready for the evening; more or less a repeat of the previous one as we planned to select a dinner from the roadside stalls and dance our butts off to the band.

We were just doing a final pack up to leave the boat when an official in a very naval officer sort of uniform approached the boat and enquired after the owner. With Ned below, everyone looked to me. It turned out he was a race official.

Standing on the dock, scanning the line of attractive women in tiny bikinis looking down at him, he focused on me...

"We've had a bit of a complaint about your boat."

"What's that?"

"That you were racing with a naked woman on the boat."

Having overheard what was going on, Ned's head suddenly popped up out of the companionway...

"I don't recall anything about that in the sailing instructions. In any case she wasn't naked, just topless. Would you be here if it was a shirtless male? Don't you think it's a bit risky commenting in this day and age on a woman's choice of clothing?"

You could see the officer was a bit flummoxed by Ned's push back. He blushed and softened his approach...

"I understand. I just wonder if she might be willing to keep her top on next time."

"I can't promise anything. After all, it wasn't that long ago a topless figurehead competition was part of this event. I'll pass on your message. But I really think you have to ask the complainant to grow up."

Ned might have spoken as if Julie wasn't there. But she was in the line of us along the rail; it's just we hadn't all turned to her when the issue was raised. As the official thanked Ned in a soft voice and retreated, Ned turned to Julie...

"Sorry about that. You can ignore him."

Julie pondered; then a devilish look grew on her face as she replied...

"Thanks Ned, but I think there might be a way of keeping nearly everyone happy."

We all suspected Julie had something devious planned, but no one made her elaborate on it. In any case, the evening on was moving on and we were all keen to get dressed for dinner and the night out.

Feeling a bit more daring and emboldened by watching Ellen's cute butt the previous night, I chose my more (what Ellen and I call) go-go dancer style dress for this night; the silver spandex one of mine that matched Ellen's gold one. The cleavage display on the top half is no more or less out there than my other dance dress. But with the bottom half nothing more than two flaps of micro mini material held together at the hips by a thin string and with a two inch gaps down my thigh, the matching string sided bikini pants do most of the work in protecting what little modesty I have.

As we walked back down to the waterfront area where both the food street and the stage were, Ned asked...

"So are you going to go wild and have fun tonight?"

"I think so. Is that OK?"

"Of course. That's part of why we're here."

"Do you get jealous or worried when you see me having fun with younger guys?"

Ned hesitated before he answered. It was a question we'd dealt with so many times. But the context of tonight was more immediate and challenging...

"Amy, I couldn't really say I love you if I didn't genuinely want what's best for you. The age difference is a burning issue in our relationship and I actually really want to see you test the issue to the fullest; and I really mean to the fullest. If you want me to acknowledge that a little bit of me would die if you moved on from me, or I feel a modicum of jealously when you're with another guy, well that's definitely the case; as it did with Ellen. But a bigger part of me would die if I came to realise I'd stolen the best years of your life for my own selfish benefit. Anyhow, I get a real buzz just out of seeing you have so much fun."

"You're not stealing anything Ned. But, as much to make you happy as anything, I'm going to let things get a bit more wild tonight, at least on the dance floor. I might act a bit drunker than I actually am as a cover for that. I suppose I'm a bit worried someone might slip me something. I don't see myself going home with anyone but you. But if by some miracle I do, I will let you know first. If I disappear without letting you know, something's gone wrong."

"OK, I'll keep an eye on you; as I'm sure will the others."

I read most of the guys I was dealing with as randy, assertive and optimistic, but generally trustworthy. But you never know. It only takes one bad apple among them to produce a very scary result.

As we talked about the issue among the group over dinner, that became something of a pact. All the women recognised they were dressed somewhat provocatively. Ellen and Shelley might have had men focused closely on them, but the rest of us, less so. I knew Ned would do his best, but he was rather popular and it would only take a moments distraction for something to happen.

So the agreement basically was we'd stay within a small area, leave it only accompanied by one of the men in our group, stay reasonably sober and do a round of goodbyes before leaving the area.

We didn't even get to the band area before we were swamped by guys. The TP52 guys had hunted us out towards the end of dinner -- it wasn't as though we didn't stand out -- and basically mobbed us with their somewhat overwhelming, although friendly, presence. And their numbers had grown.

As we moved to the band area, it was apparent they weren't the only men who'd picked up on the vibe that there was a group of attractive, scantily dressed women, keen for some dancing. It seemed like a lot of head nodders had become dancers.

Mind you a few women had also picked up on the fact there were actually some men willing to dance; so the dance circle had become bigger and more crowded.

My after the event recollection of the night is something of a blur of men.

The dances I had with Ned are clear in my mind; mainly some great rock and roll and swing numbers where we danced up a storm and had everyone watching us. Oh, yes. And a dirty dancing style number that had us passionately all over each other like a rash as our bodies moved against each other and him all but fucking me on the dance floor as he swayed and pushed the bulge in his pants into the crotch of my bent back body; leaving me randy as hell and my panties wet with desire.

And a clear recollection of a number of really fun go-go style dancing alongside Ellen as we shook and rocked our tushes in synchronisation like a pair of cage girls at an old time venue with the guys ogling us with their jaws slack and their tongues hanging limply to the side of their mouth.

But the dirty dancing with Ned didn't go unnoticed by other males who, oblivious to our relationship, decided if I was willing to do it with an old fart like Ned then surely I'd be just as permissive with young studs like them.

And they were lucky (or at least I think they should have thought themselves so). Because essentially, like some shop special, for this week only, I sort of was.

None of them had Ned's style and many tried to do it to music that wasn't really fit for the purpose. But I wasn't on the floor to judge their dancing. I was there to -- have fun sure -- but also to judge my reaction to them, their presence and their bodies.

I think it was the second guy I danced with -- a guy I think didn't realise I must have been five years older than him -- who tried the dirty dancing moves grinding my crotch against what must have been a three quarter erection lying trapped in his pants to lie across his body towards his hips.

He must have thought he was in heaven as, far from withdrawing from his moves, I pushed back into him. Whether heaven turned sour on him when he suddenly climaxed in his pants, leaving a very obvious damp patch in the thin material, I can't say. Having felt the throbbing and heard the suppressed grunt, I immediately knew what he'd done, but said nothing as he blushed and fumbled; pulling back from me and quickly finding an excuse to guide me back to the sidelines.

As he disappeared into the crowd, I told Julie standing next to me what had happened...

"I'm not surprised. Where did you learn to dance like that? It looked like Ned was fucking you when you were dancing like that with him."

"At dance lessons. And watching the movie Dirty Dancing. It makes me pretty hot doing it with Ned."

"I'm not surprised. It made me pretty hot watching it. And what about with Stephen [the friend of Julie's who'd just ejaculated]"

"Not so much. He was cute, but too young and not my type."

"Really? You set high standards. I'll tell you what. Why don't we have a competition to see who can get the most guys to jizz their pants as we dance with them?"

"Isn't that a bit cruel and objectifying of the guys?"

I almost had to laugh as I realised the irony of my comment. Julie picked up on its light heartedness...

"I don't know how to even start to answer that. A guy pushes his erection at your crotch and it goes off. I don't really see any breech of human right occurring there."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable targeting a competition. But I'm happy to compare notes later."

With the ratio of males to females at this event hopelessly skewed towards an excess of males, the chance of a woman willing to dance being left on the sidelines for very long was fairly remote. With all Julie's friends around us, she was snatched away moments after offering me the competitive challenge.

Never one to do things by halves, Julie made a point of pushing her crotch against the guy's, almost as soon as they started dancing, her hips moving noticeably from side to side against the guy's body. I decided this wasn't a competition I was going to try all that hard at. My objective might be to expose myself to physical contact with a range of young men, and I was certainly willing to let them go way, way further than the average girl would on the average dance floor. But aggressively setting out to physically arouse them and then trigger them into an orgasm was a step too far.

Mind you, I'm not claiming to be virtuous. What it meant was, if they tried to dance intimately with me, I wasn't going to resist, even when I became aware they were aroused. As to whether I might then target climaxing them; that was a bridge I'd cross when I came to it. But those who sought a less intimate dance weren't going to be attacked by me.

Within our group and the TP52 crew guys who were hanging around us, the Dirty Dancing style now became sort of de rigueur.

The next guy was obviously a bit shy. Quite nice as far as I could tell, a bit older than some of the others, he didn't take many liberties and was rewarded by retaining dry pants at the end of our dance.

The next one, once again younger and cockier, was in a different mould. His hands were under the flap of the back of my dress and on the bare cheeks of my butt almost as soon as we started and soon working their way under the leg hem of my panties; something tolerated as long as it stayed up near the waistband. His hand made sure my crotch was hard against his and I could soon feel an erection growing vertically in his pants.

His vision rarely left my precariously and only nominally covered breasts and as he encouraged me to arch my back over and swing me around, he glided his free hand down my torso, the first time between my breasts, the second time over my left one and the third time under the loosely fitting triangle of the top and across my the flesh of my nipple. All of which just made his erection harder and at risk of popping out the top of his pants.

When the tone of the music changed to something faster and a tune I'd sort of heard before -- 'Bopping the blues' -- and everyone started dancing doing little more than jumping up and down, I resisted his dancing leads and started jumping myself. Which meant I was vigorously rubbing my crotch up and down his erection and even when he started jumping too, he was out of sequence with me, so he kept getting rubbed.

At first he clearly enjoyed it, his hand still keeping my crotch firmly against his as the jumping movement gave him the opportunity for his hand to completely invade the back of my panties and bridge across the flesh of my bum crack.

But it was soon evident he was starting to feel the consequences of his action. He tried to back off, releasing the hand pressure and even trying to bend his hips to get his erection away from being stimulated by my crotch.

But now it was my turn. Ignoring the fact my breast had popped out of its triangle and was bouncing exposed right under his nose, I simply moved in whatever way I had to in order to subvert his attempts to escape the stimulation of his cock. I knew it wouldn't take long. These younger guys seem to have a very short brew up period once they've become sensitive. It took barely three more bounces.

He made a pathetic attempt to hide his orgasm if that was his intention -- and his subsequent embarrassment suggested it was. He grunted, groaned and even let out an 'oh fuck' as his body froze and tightened against me. I jumped a couple more times to really squeeze out his seed before feigning a sudden awareness of the fact the guy previously dancing with me was now standing like a rock in the middle of the dance floor.

I asked innocently...

"Are you OK? Did I jump on your foot?"

As I separated our bodies and looked down to pretend to check out his foot, I found that my jumping had actually pulled down the front of his pants and exposed the top of his erection to below the bell. Even in the broken up light of the outdoor space, I could see his jizz was all over his shirt and the elasticised waistband of his pants. Fortunately the way my crotch had pushed the centre of his erection back towards him, meant it was aimed more at him than at me.

"Oh dear. You seem to have had an accident."

I tucked my breast back in as he withdrew his hand from the back of my panties...

"Would you like to sit the next dance out?"

He tucked his still cum dripping cock back into his pants as I escorted him like a wounded soldier, with an arm around his, to the sidelines; abandoning him there with a...

"I've just got to catch up with some friends."

Ned was spending a rare moment on the sidelines, so I grabbed him for a few more dances. The music was rock and roll, so that's what we did; with all the skirt lifting, panty exposing, breast throwing energy I could give it.

But Liddy needed him back for some more dancing of her own, so I reluctantly surrendered him to her, quickly being dragged back onto the dance floor by another of the TP52 guys.

As the night was moving on they were getting drunker and randier and definitely bolder for it and clearly targeting Julie and myself as those willing to be the most fun on the dance floor; probably not recognising the consequences their friends had suffered as a result -- if suffering is the right word. I just acted more drunk than I was; providing cover for tolerating what was often some very out there behaviour from them.

For a slow number, this guy turned me around to let him dance pushed against my back; inducing our bodies to sway together as I felt something of an erection grow into my bum crack and his arms circled around to my front; one hand sliding inside my dress to fondle a nipple while the other sat high on my mons, slowing sinking downwards, leaving me wondering where I should draw the line.

As his finger extended over the turn of my mons -- very obviously seeking to finger my clit, or maybe something more than that -- I brought his hand back up to my lower stomach, and increased the sway of my hips, causing my bum to move more pronouncedly against the bulge in his pants. I felt it harden and swell; clearly caught bent within the confines of his pants and being held against my body.

He pulled his hips back for a moment, letting his erection straighten out so that, when he pushed it against me again I could feel it pointing vertically against my butt and back, the bottom of it pushed between my bum cheeks.

I lay my head back onto his shoulder as I kept swaying against his body, knowing that would open up a view of my breasts to him; with the nipple he was stimulating now a towering edifice right under his nose.

As I'd done with the previous guy, I danced slightly out of sync with him, increasing the stimulation on his erection.

I hadn't really set out to compete with Julie. But I had something of the view that if they were going to pleasure themselves against me and push their erection against my body, then they were fair game for the consequences.

Like the previous guy, I sensed him suddenly realise he was about to cum and try and pull back. And like the previous guy, I didn't let him; pushing my butt back to chase his retreating erection.

What was different this time was the guy's reaction to the final moment. With the result inevitable he decided to make the best of it; holding me tightly against him as he came; groaning and rubbing his cock up and down as I felt his cum dampen my exposed lower back. As his finished his groans morphed into a succession of 'sorrys' as he finally used the front of his shirt to wipe whatever cum his exposed shaft had jetted onto my back.

I turned around to face him, to find his erection even more exposed than the last guys; probably half the height of it. He looked down at it and then back at me, as if the exposure was advertising his wares...

"Do you want to come back and finish this more romantically?"

I put my hand gently, maybe even patronisingly on his shirt over his firm chest...

"No thanks. I'm spoken for and I suspect the finish has already arrived in a happy ending sort of way."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

He pulled open the front of his shirt to display a muscle bound chest...