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As I’ve mentioned, my preferred writing style is first person from the female POV. But lacking inspiration I’ve continued this series, which seems to be popular. A reader suggested I might write the next chapter from the POV of one of the girls.

While group sex (or even shared partners) is not really my thing and I find writing in this genre a bit forced, I thought I’d give it a go. But it’s why there been a delay between stories.

This is a continuation from my previous “Unexpected Threesome” stories; although you shouldn’t need to have read them to enjoy this.

Ned, the owner of a yacht cruising the pacific and now in his early 60’s, has unexpectedly found himself seduced by his two long term crew — nubile girls in their very late 20’s. Now a third, Ellen, is aboard. It is from Ellen’s POV this is written.

*****

We heard a small outboard boat approaching and lifted our heads to confirm it was Ned and Amy in the boat’s tender returning from the dive.

We’d had quite an interesting snorkelling swim in their absence and more through laziness than anything had laid out on the paddleboard where we’d anchored it to sun ourselves and warm up before going back to the boat.

Issie’s head was up the front of the board, mine down the tail. The board was too short to accommodate our combined length, so my upper right thigh was over Issie’s left and her right over mine, with our lower legs dangling in the water either side.

As I laid there I felt a vague awareness our crotches were less than 10 cm apart in a fairly typical lesbian sex position. Yes we had bikini bottoms on and no, I’m not a lesbian or even bi, but my discussion with Ned and the talk of the girls joking about being BOB’s (Bi on the boat) and about me being willing to go along with that came to mind. Although in a way we’d positioned ourselves without the slightest sense we were doing something involving any great intimacy, the fact was it did. And without being prudish, I’d just never had cause to be so intimate with a girl before.

I was aroused, but not by that. Still, I certainly felt a certain sexual frission; as if it was a forewarning that in joining the boat I’d entered a different world. Mind you, I’d already seen ample evidence of that as I’d watched as both Issie and Amy get fucked by Ned last night. I was going to say a more delicate ‘have sex’, but in Amy’s case it was definitely a case of getting herself fucked.

But I was feeling good and relaxed in a way I hadn’t for a long time. The stress of years of study and months of high intensity medical practice in the clinics in the Solomon Islands and Fiji felt as though they were ebbing from me in a way that hadn’t even started to happen on the other boat.

Thank god I was off the other boat. A mean, dominating owner and his wife meant other crew rarely stayed long. I felt friendless and always with the sense the creepy owner would be only too willing to sexually exploit me if he could. I should have followed one of the other crew as they left the boat but somehow stayed out of a misplaced loyalty combined with a fear of being stranded in a strange place. But when he’d hit me, a line was crossed.

I was fortunate Issie and Amy had turned up to get me off the boat because I was a virtual prisoner with no way of getting ashore.

In Papeete, Issie and Amy had been my salvation; tolerating snide suggestive remarks from the owner while visiting me and helping me visit the shore more often than I might have without them. They became the friends I’d been missing, for months, if not actually for years the more I thought about it. Our bonds were close and intimate in that girly sort of way; evidenced by just how much they told me about their life with Ned as their sexual relationship developed during their stay there.

I was always just a little bit depressed when they dropped me back to my yacht or left it when they were visiting there; not just because of their absence but because I almost felt jealous about what they had in contrast to me.

So joining the yacht when the moment came had been a no brainer. Joining the sexual relationship had taken a bit more thought, but not much. Funny, I was terrified of being put upon by the creepy old owner of the other yacht and yet willingly gave my body up to a much older Ned. Actually, I’ve not expressed that fairly, because what I really did was throw myself at Ned’s body.

I could point out the physical contrast — a pudgy, florid other owner compared to Ned’s tall, slim, attractively weather beaten, and muscular appearance. And that’s not irrelevant. But still doesn’t explain why I’d have anything to do with any 60 year old guy.

If one word applies, it’s probably kindness. The sort of kindness that draws you in and makes you feel part of a family. And while I’m sure Ned’s natural inclination is to treat us more like daughters, when you’re a small group of people on a yacht like ours, nature can override a lifetime of ageist prejudices and divisions.

In ataköy anal yapan escort a way, just by being jealous of what Issie and Amy had, I’d already crossed that bridge. I’d admitted to myself I wanted what they had, age limitations and all.

What really surprised, almost shook me, was just how sexual an environment it was and the effect that had on me. In a way I should have known. If I added up the number of stories the girls told me and multiplied that by the number of days it had been going on, the answer was obvious. But I hadn’t.

I’ve never been in a live in relationship with a guy, or even had a full on sexually active relationship with a boyfriend, so I didn’t really know how much sex is ‘right’ when it’s all on tap. Once a week or even a fortnight was nearly enough when I was merely using ‘with benefits’ relationships and I could go for longer again without masturbating when I didn’t have that. So I figured two or three times a week was probably a pretty full on sex life.

But on the yacht it’s like somebody put something in the water, all driven by the girls. They seem to think that two or three times a day is perfectly normal. If it’s one upmanship it doesn’t extend beyond their demands on Ned. I’m privileged to have been admitted into a girl friendship that’s as deep and as mutually supportive as any I’ve had in my life. Amy and Issie are as thick as thieves in their carrying on which each other. Delightfully, mischievously so.

But if there’s sex going, they want a part of it.

And now I’m here I can sense it having the same effect on me. When I came aboard I was highly sexually and relationship deprived, so it didn’t surprise me that I was fairly forward in getting a bit when it was offered. But I thought that would do me for a while; settle me down and let me stand back and give me time to really be a part of the family before I asked for too much more.

But watching Issie and Amy last night — especially Amy — has done something to me. I’d never known sex to be that passionate, so exciting, so all consuming of both participants as what I saw. I wanted that, not as some distant objective, but soon. Ned was being kind and understanding when he said that passion comes from a deep commitment to a person and doesn’t arise overnight.

But all that made me want to do was gain his attention, to win him to that sort of commitment to me. I didn’t need to push the other girls aside for that, but I needed enough focus on me to get there. Our conversations, when we shared watch, were wonderful and insightful, but in the end I just had this sense that physical intimacy and plenty of it was an important contributor to developing that commitment more quickly.

That feeling affected my behaviour. It sexualised me. It made me feel always just that little bit aroused around Ned; especially since he was usually actually or almost naked in the swimwear which was about all he wore when not going ashore. It made me want sex from him, not in a few days or next week, but now, whenever I was with him. It made me want to display my sexuality to him, to have him notice me and be aroused by me. In other words, it made me the same as the other girls.

As we’d sat on the bow during our shared watch before arriving here, I felt so noble when, as he lay naked on his back with his head in my lap, his ear brushing against my pubic hair, I calmly declared it was probably better for me not to jump on and use the boner he’d just delivered with a thump onto his stomach. Aroused already by his mere presence and the closeness of his head to my exposed sex, aware my nipples had tightened into jutting projections in his line of vision, I’d watched fascinated as his manhood, initially a thick sausage resting between his thighs, had lengthened and stiffened; rising up from its starting point until it was momentarily vertical then come crashing down, its tip reaching for his navel.

I’ve never been able to watch one grow like that before. Too often in my past there was a bulge in their pants long before it was exposed. And it always seemed that moments after it was exposed it was getting pushed into my sex.

Nor had I had the experience of just sitting with a lover like that, completely comfortable in our mutual nakedness, gently stroking his hardened manhood, without any expectation that there’s be more than that. To be able to watch as Ned’s erection surged and lifted every time I ran my finger along it was a joy in itself. For some reason the moment struck in my mind when I ran my finger through the pool of pre-cum that had oozed from the tip of Ned’s shaft only to have it string out as I pulled my finger away. I’d drawn it up and laid it back over his shaft, using it to lubricate my gentle stroking of its length.

My previous experience of sex had always been so rushed, so focused on the act that I’d been deprived of the true intimacies good sex entails.

At the time, I hadn’t wanted to start another round ataköy bdsm escort of competitive sexual demands on Ned by fucking him again there and then. And yet it nearly killed me to be that strong. As I ran my finger along the length of his hardness and watched his pre-cum weep from its tip onto his stomach, I’d known my own juices were flooding the deck under where I sat, my sex aching with desire.

It’s funny. For months I’ve fended off the constant advances of good looking, young, randy medical staff at the clinics I’ve been working in and not felt the slightest loss about it. Now I was pining to relive that moment on the foredeck with Ned, to have laid next to him, to have taken his hardness into my body and ridden him until I drained him of his seed.

In the end, I can see that what is driving me — and the others too — is effectively a fear of missing out. At one level I understand the human tendency to be driven by this and normally I’m not prone to it. But this was different. There are hormones and pheromones at work that make the fear almost impossible to supress.

I could see all this was asking a lot of Ned. As I doctor I’ve had to write Viagra scripts for guys a fraction of his age and yet he’s being asked to perform like a porn actor. Ned admits that he’s known sexual failure in the past and that he’s no superman. He says that, unwittingly, or maybe more unknowingly, us girls are the ones giving him the ability to meet our needs. Even by the standards of girls our age, we’re a pretty good looking bunch and Ned says running around half or completely naked and flaunting ourselves at him like we do drives his testosterone production or something like that.

What he didn’t know is that it’s neither unwitting nor unknowing. I’ve had the girls tell me they flaunt and flirt with him to keep him at his peak, brush themselves against him as they pass him in the companionway or along the narrow side deck and sashay in front of him when they know he’s looking. I’ve seen them shopping and pull out a potential new bikini and ask, “Do you reckon this will make Ned grow a boner?”

And have Amy emerge from the change rooms wearing one and exclaim “I’d say this is good for a few fucks.”

I felt as though I’ve come on board the boat underarmed in the sexualised dressing race. My stuff may not have been all that modest, but it was never chosen with the specific intention of giving males around me a hard on. And it was something I found myself resolving to fix while we were in Fare.

What all this meant was that, even when Ned’s wasn’t in my immediate vicinity, I just feel driven by this desire. And because of that fear of missing out, it was worse when I knew he was with one of the other girls. As we’d laid on the board, I knew he was off in the tender diving with Amy. I mean, they were in this tiny open boat and going diving. In my naivety, I couldn’t think of anything they possibly get up to? And yet the desire never left me.

Because I’d been on the boat — only known Ned in any real sense — for less than 48 hours, I was compromised by the additional feeling that I wasn’t not yet a full member of the family. That these things take time. Issie — bless her heart — did everything she could to give me a running start. Putting me on watch with Ned and making him share a bunk with me — virtually telling him to have sex with me — broke the ice pretty quickly. But still, there are some thing only time can build.

Lying on the paddleboard with my pussy warmed by the sun I’d fantasised I’d been in Amy’s position when Ned was pounding her last night; letting myself feel the passion of the moment, the pure lust that had driven them, his manly strength, his weight upon me, his swollen shaft slipping rapidly in and out of my body as I arched my back to have him stimulate my clit and g spot all at once, his chest brushing against my projecting nipples. I imagined the explosion of multiple orgasms ripping through my body; flooding my brain with pleasure as my body spasmed and I cried out loud like Amy had. It had aroused me so much I could barely take it. I just felt like my sex was on fire, radiating out need and desire, which is probably why I’d become so sensitized to the closeness of Issie’s crotch.

We were keen to get back to the boat to see how the dive had gone. Issie and I were booked to do our own dive course with Mahana Dive School while we were here, so had a personal interest in what the dive waters were like. As we untangled our legs to get ourselves back into a paddling position, my crotch brushed across that of Issie’s. It was nothing really and Issie didn’t even acknowledge any contact by looking up, but because mine was so hot — so aroused and sensitised by the fantasies I’d been indulging in while lying there — it registered with me. What it really told me is that, in the space of 48 hours, sex had gone from being an almost irrelevancy to a central part of nearly every moment of my life.

It was a ataköy elit escort brief paddle back to the boat to join Amy and Ned as they started to unload their dive gear from the tender to give it a quick rinse in fresh water. Issie went about tying off the paddleboard and lifting it over the rails while I found myself anxious to help the others.

Ned was on his knees on the swim platform lifting the gear out of the inflatable where it would be washed using the transom shower over a large gear bucket. We were planning to go alongside the fuel wharf tomorrow morning which would let us top up our water supplies, so for once it wasn’t a case of being frugal with every last drop, even if we did want enough left to see us through the night.

Still aroused by the fantasies I’d played with while lying on the board and even more so now I was in Ned’s presence, I stood well inside Ned’s personal space. On the surface that was to let me bend over and help Ned take the weight of the gear as he swung it out of the tender in the small confines of the swim platform and then do the washing with the transom shower hose I held in my other hand. But my positioning and the spread of my legs left him little alternative but to slide his shoulder up my inner thigh and stick his nose between my legs as he swung.

My pussy was still on fire with desire, a dampness permeating my crutch and I couldn’t help but wonder if Ned would pick up on the evidence of my arousal. On the first swing he stopped momentarily and looked up at me, a quizzical look on his face. In the confines of the tight space I’d left him, his chin was almost touching the gusset of my bikini pants as he gazed upwards. The quizzical look transformed into abroad smile as he met my eyes and saw the grin I was giving him.

Had he sensed my arousal? Oh god, I just wanted to thrust my hips forward and put a hand around the back of his head to bring that smiling face against the burning heat of my desire. Could I bump him into the water and take him there? Fall on him where he knelt and somehow steal some intimacy from him as we untangled our bodies? Every thought that jumped into my head in that moment when our eyes met simply made me feel more randy, more aroused and less in control of my desires.

I looked down. The cock that had lain dormant in his swimwear a moment ago had sprung to life. A tall shaft now rose sheathed in his speedos. He knew. He’d sensed my need, but that left me no closer to fulfilling it.

The weight belts had come aboard first. Now Ned had turned back and was squatting right down on his haunches on the very edge of the platform, leaning over, trying to lift out the combined tank, regulator and compensator unit. With the tender sitting lower than the platform and dancing about to the harbour chop, he was having trouble holding the tender close alongside while lifting the weight of the unit and not have any of the multitude of its hoses catch on the tender’s thwart or rollicks or the hoses of the other unit.

Using the narrowness of the swim platform as an excuse for such intimacy, I lowered myself half over the top of him; one knee alongside his while my mons pushed firmly on the edge of his hip, my other legs stretched out over and behind him, half my chest along his back and my head brushed alongside his. From there I could bring a single extra hand to bear to help him, although with him pinned under me it meant I would need to be the one to swing the unit aboard as he held things close and cleared obstacles away.

Ned drew the tender in close and was starting to clear a path for a clean lift. What I did next was a spur of the moment thing; driven partly by my arousal, partly by a sense I needed to take risks to get myself in front of Ned and gain his attention.

Instead of grabbing the diving unit, I slipped my hand down between his folded legs and wrapped my fingers around the swimwear sheathed erection that lay along the floor of the platform between Ned’s thighs. There was no chance this could be mistaken for an accidental brush, the geometry of our positioning wouldn’t permit that. No, it was a straight out, blatantly sexual grope.

And all the while I used the rocking of the boat or whatever other justification I could find to grind my mons subtly against his body without attracting the attention of the others. It wasn’t the fast, intense rubbing I might have really wanted, but it felt good just the same, scratching an irresistible need that my swollen bulb of a clit had been calling for since I laid on the paddle board imagining myself in the place of Amy as she’d been pounded by Ned last night.

10 minutes of it and I might have got a climax, but I knew I had nothing like that amount of time. More than a minute and I’d attract the attention of the other girls.

My action caught Ned by surprise and he let out a little groan and his cock surged with pleasure in my hand as I slid it up and down its length. I could see him close his eyes, accepting the pleasure as he moved his elbow slightly out to rub against the jutting projection of my nipple.

The words that escaped me as I whispered into his ear shocked me. I decided I must be ovulating. Is was about the right time and I felt that surely nothing else could justify such corny blatantness, even if it had never caused me to be so outrageous before.

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