Look Back in Sorrow
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2015 by Morganna Roberts

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - As a passenger on a luxury yacht, she is part of the Euro-trash scene and yet is an outsider amused by the sheer waste of talent and time. From the salons of Paris to the decadent flesh-pots of the French Riviera, it is the under belly of a society gone amuck in a hedonistic world.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Group Sex   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Voyeurism  

The sun was beating down on my nicely-tanned back as Commissioner Antonelli's beautiful white yacht cut through the rolling waters of the Mediterranean like a butcher's knife through yielding flesh. My Euro-trash flesh was exposed to the maximum of acceptable decorum since there are a few actual wives and daughters in the retinue he always seemed to drag along with him wherever he goes these days.

I had first met Roberto in a bit of a dive just off the harbor in Nice and he was so under the influence of Cognac at the time that I was afraid he would fall down and hurt himself if he took another unsteady step. I didn't know how old he was at the time of our first meeting but from my perspective of just under thirty years of age, he looked definitely older generation to me and I dismissed him out of hand for horizontal activities based on my faulty first look.

However, he was wearing the most adorable three-piece white suit and red tie that went well with his dark good looks. I certainly didn't want anything to harm the perfection of that outfit so I immediately went to his assistance and guided him to my table with absolutely no ulterior motive in the least other than neighborly concern.

It was only slightly less than two years ago, but it almost seems like an eternity as I reminisce about that fateful moment.

I was in the damp and dangerous dive with a bad reputation for shady ladies and nasty characters because I was trying to convince my best friend Adele to come back with me to Paris. I wanted her to try and forget about her cheating husband Claude who was a real girl-chaser and general all-around prick. I would never admit it to her but he had done me against the bathroom door in their apartment while she was serving drinks to his friends shortly after their civil ceremony. I felt so guilty about that incident that I had entered the filthy place just to get her to see reason and forget her campaign to taste every dick on the French Riviera. It was a difficult task because it seemed like almost every swinging dick in the place had intuitive vibes about her mouth-focused attitude and was already taking numbers for their turn.

I suspected that my rescued older gentleman immediately assumed I was one of the "girls" that you find in such a place because his hands on my rump attested to the fact he was more than willing to play with any female with a nice bottom and a dubious repute.

I just laughed at his antics because he was so obviously under the influence of drink that any protest I made would be either unheard or ignored. My friend Adele was noticeably nervous seeing me being pawed by a complete stranger because of my reputation for being a bit standoffish and more attracted to females than to men. I have to admit that I helped foster the misconception because it saved me from a lot of jealous females protecting their two-timing husbands, Adele included. Adele and I were closer than just friends but in both our cases it was just a temporary way to stave off the sense of loneliness when no male was in the picture.

Roberto was coherent enough to get the bartender's attention and he had perfect diction when he gave his order.

He ordered Cognacs all around and sprinkled the tabletop with a bunch of wadded up Euros that resembled trash to be discarded rather than currency. I sat in the middle between Adele and Roberto and was somewhat squashed with the crying Adele on one shoulder and the rambunctious Roberto who was trying his best to investigate if my tits were real or manufactured. I allowed him his explorations because I was more concerned about Adele's problems and besides I could see he was well-dressed and had a manner of speaking French that was cultivated and textured with a hint of his native Italian. Of course, he assumed I was French because that was the language we were speaking and I was after all in a den of obvious iniquity in the middle of the most sinful port city in France.

Let me hasten to explain that I was in France as part of an expansion of my company's move into the French "high style" niche of the market and had been headquartered in Paris for almost a full year. We had invested a lot of money in the project but had come to the conclusion that the buying public in most of the large American cities were more interested in "bargain" rip-offs than in high-end goods and we had all but terminated our proposed merger with one of the prestigious houses in Paris. Only I and a few of the partners in corporate headquarters were aware of that decision but I had already made plans to return to New York City before the end of the month. I was certain the scope of the disaster insured I would never be made a full partner in the business and that bothered me more than the dreaded move back into grim reality of Metropolitan New York away from the flesh-pots and excesses of the City of Love, Paris.

Roberto was now exploring my soft flesh and had his fingers inside my French undies which just so happened to be my favorites. Rather than risk having them ripped or damaged in any way since I really treasured their touch on my skin, I just leaned over to Adele and allowed my boobs to rub her chest suggestively as if I was really into her as a potential lover than as my best friend. It distracted her from the fact that Roberto had inserted two of his rogue fingers into my tiny rear opening and was testing the tightness of my back channel with typical male disregard for female dignity and self-respect. In all honesty, I was not overly upset by his annoying assumption that I was a girl for hire and my juices were beginning to bubble with that familiar surge I knew so well. In fact, I didn't even mind the fact that the public were enjoying the spectacle of a well-dressed upper class female being subjected to such gross indignities right out in the open. In a way I enjoyed the tingle that thought instilled in my brain and I even opened my knees to give the tableau a little more spice.

I extracted his wallet from his back pocket and saw that he had a receipt for slippage at the marina only a short distance from our location. I commandeered Adele's assistance and we managed to get Roberto into a taxi for the short trip to the dock. Fortunately, Roberto was still lucid enough to vouch for both Adele and I at the gangplank and we all boarded the yacht and exited the harbor on route to the island of Sicily which was the next stop on his itinerary. Adele was excited at the prospect never having traveled much outside France in her entire life and I was happy for the change since my time in Paris was definitely at a close and my return to New York was not much to my liking.

We all three wound up in Roberto's stateroom since the majordomo assumed that we were the owner's new "items" of interest and Adele and I were left to undress him and get him into the large circular bed with humorous difficulty. He was in one of those "bad boy when he is drunk" silly stages that I had contended with ad infinitum with my irritating brother-in-law back when I was living with my sister and my mother out on the Island. The "not overly devoted to his spouse" Douglas was truly a confirmed alcoholic with devious fingers all over me when my sister was working a night shift at Long Island Jewish. The only reason why I let him humiliate me in that manner was because he was devastatingly good-looking and was endowed with male equipment that easily placed him in the top ten percent of my former partners in lust with stamina to match his size.

I wondered without actually saying the words, if Roberto was married, because there was no evidence of female spoor in the stateroom and he didn't wear a wedding ring. I never asked him the question directly, but I was quick to "Google" him on the shipboard computer the first opportunity I had the next day.

I did my best to locate pajamas for Roberto and did find an expensive pair in his closet but he eluded our concerted effort to clothe him and just made a bee-line for the bed with his impressive Italian cock swinging like a garden gate in a stiff breeze. I could tell that Adele was duly impressed and if I was forced to tell the truth, I thought he was remarkably well-endowed in that area and had no pot belly like one would expect on a mature government person.

Adele and I took the opportunity to take a shower together and she stood silent as I soaped her up from head to toe. It was obvious that she was not in the least bit interested in female on female pursuits but I did it just to protect my bisexual reputation and confuse the issue.

I gave Adele the tops of the lovely pajamas we found in the closet and I pulled on the bottoms. We now looked like twin half-naked bookends of a girl sawed in two by some magician at a carnival show. My generous boobs were adorned with hardened nipples revealing the fact the situation had turned me on to some degree. I was certain that poor Adele thought it was because of her delightful naked bush and pretty cheeks but in actuality it was the fact that Roberto had fallen on his back and his cock was standing up at attention like some Greek God statue on top of the bed. I had this overwhelming urge to suck the thing like one of the tramps from the waterfront that did that trick as a way of deriving income for living expenses. There was certainly no shortage of such creatures in Nice or Monaco or any of the other popular Riviera hot-spots.

Adele was quick to take possession of Roberto's pretty cock and she proved to be a greedy girl who had difficulty in sharing even with her best friend. I sat next to them with my bare boobs and looked in the mirror on the ceiling. I witnessed my nicely manicured fingers playing with my sensitive nipples in the role of a perverted voyeur. It was strange watching the petite and gentle Adele adroitly position her nude bottom over his thick shaft. She slowly sank down like a hunting submarine returning to needed safety below the surface of the water. Her face was a study in alternating determination and pure anticipation as Roberto's lovely cock was gobbled up by her suddenly single-minded cunt.

I pushed my other hand inside my delightful pajama bottoms and found my steamy slit with unerring marksmanship. The ship was moving now and I was rolling slightly from side to side and Adele was letting the motion of the yacht do most of her work for her on top of Roberto's cock. The silly thing was already in the midst of an orgasm and poor Roberto was snoring like a sailor after a drunken orgy. It was a miracle that his erection remained firm throughout but Adele always was the lucky one when it came to such things. I was the one who always wound up in the terrible situations looking for an exit to escape the consequences. I watched her pretty cheeks only inches from my seeping slit and was tempted to hug her whilst she was still riding her mount. It seemed a little too depraved even by my jaded standards. I merely waited and when she finally crawled off the still stiff rod, I satisfied my urge to suck and took Roberto into my mouth tasting Adele and his recently fired emission stinging my taste buds with that pervasive maleness that never failed to make me disgustingly submissive. I really hated my submissive tendencies because in my mind it made me more of a "pushover" for some gigolo or determined male who wouldn't take no for an answer.

Adele's pretty cheeks were too tempting not to use as a pillow and I quickly fell asleep joining them both in slumber in the gently rocking boat speeding with expert guidance by professional staff to the large island at the "boot" of Italy.

When I woke up in the morning, I could see that I had drooled a bit on Adele's backside but she deserved it after her wanton use of poor Roberto's cock the night before. His thing was up yet again but I restrained from further action because I wanted to determine exactly what our status would be as Roberto's new companions. It would be necessary to set him straight about our actual roles as a disenchanted businesswoman with corporate credentials and a housewife recently separated and with family ties dripping with prestige and funding.

I had to smile because it might just be fun to continue as a pair of sluts picked up in a dissolute and dangerous dive on the waterfront just looking for a short vacation and a good time. Perhaps that role would be better after all.

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