Summer Sailing
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2017 by HAL

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - My name is Chris, this is a 'true' story about my flotilla sailing holiday in Greece with a bunch of girls.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual  

DAY 1

I caught the train to Luton and met them there. Why? Well they were five in the car already and I knew an extra passenger would be a nuisance; it seemed best not to be a difficulty so early. So, getting there early, as is my usual way, I sat in the Lingo’s Coffee Bar and drank a milky coffee. Cheryl had all the travel docs and had arranged a change of name for the lead traveller (to me!); so if I wasn’t there no-one else could go apparently. I saw them arrive in the minibus from the long stay carpark; Cheryl looked a little hassled. They walked in and I came down the escalator to meet them. None of the noticed me even though they were looking all round. That didn’t bode well. There was an air of panic or a storm coming.

“Hello? All ready?” I said

“Oh, ahh, yes, thank goodness. Such a journey! Oh, you were right to go by train!” said Cheryl, I could see her two daughters rolling there eyes. I didn’t say that I’d been there ages because of the times of the trains. “The traffic!! I thought we’d never get here. This was such a silly idea!”

“Mum, it’s fine”

I joined in, “Perhaps if I could suggest? If we check in and get rid of the luggage then we can go and get a coffee? We have loads of time” I smiled at her, was she a worrier? Oh dear. I noted that she was in her holiday wear now. High heels had given way to canvas flats. But these canvas flats would have cost her £50 I reckon; mine cost me a fiver. Her tight cotton trousers emphasised her well trimmed legs.

As we walked to check in – this was in the days before airlines decided we’d rather do the whole pallaver ourselves at a machine and then queue up just the same to drop our bags off – Tony poked me “Heh! Stop giving my Mum the once over, she’s my Mum!”

“She’s also hot ... but so are you.” I added quickly. Actually it was true. She was only in jeans, like me, but hers were tight and her teeshirt was stretched attractively over her bust. Fred, I noticed had opted for a looser fitting top. Probably sensible given the heat at the other end; and the competition in the bust stakes. Fred’s shorts, though; well, they were short. Her little bottom rotated back and forth as she walked in a most attractive way. I reminded myself of her age, and my religious scruples. Sarah and Joanne were walking behind, Sarah had dark hair, she actually looked rather Jewish, I thought, but didn’t get to ask her. Eventually it came out that her family had been Jewish up to the 1890s, when her grandfather (great grandfather?) had converted. I gave myself a bonus point for observation. She had dark eyes, dark hair and would (I think) have had a mono-brow without some judicious plucking. Instead she had striking eyebrows that rose at the outer edges. Her face would grab your attention; but then you would notice the rest of her. She was short, perhaps only five foot three? She might almost have been a clay model that had been squished down a little, with the result that her bust and bottom had stuck out more. She had a large bust, and a prominent bottom. Both of these were a disadvantage when the fashion was still for boyish figures. She looked right though, that’s what matters. Her legs might have been thicker than the others’, but thin legs would have looked like matchsticks under her body. As it was, in proportion as she was, her bare legs (she was in shorts, longer shorts than Fred’s) didn’t wobble as she walked, they were firm and sexy and led to shoes with slight heels. She was sensitive about her height, or lack of it, so she always wore slight heels to add half an inch or so. She would have to leave them off on the boat of course.

Beside Sarah, Joanne looked tall, but she wasn’t. She was, maybe, a couple of inches taller than Sarah in her heeled shoes. She had a permanent wave in her hair, I think it was natural because it always seemed to dry back to being wavy. She had long dark blonde or very light brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She had a habit of pushing it behind her ears, but it always flopped back to frame her face. She had, I remember, unusually long fingers; which she would wave when she spoke, like she was weaving a spell. It was certainly spell-binding. Of all the younger women, she was the only one who could challenge Cheryl for elegance. She actually had Gucci loafers on. I pointed out that they’d get ruined by the salt water, but she didn’t seem to mind. When sailing, I’d heard that she had been unusually aggressive in competing with other boats; not a trait expected of someone who took fifteen minutes every morning to paint her finger and toe nails. She wasn’t a particularly good sailor, but she was willing to learn. Walking with Sarah, they clearly were keen to come for the holiday but not sure how to fit in to the family group. I could see there was a danger there, the McKintricks and the others.

We were early for checkin, it wasn’t really meant to be open for our flight, but the male attendant looked at the bevy of lovely girls and women and melted (of course). I commented after that if I’d turned up on my own I’d have been turned away. “Oh, well Chris, you should have tried the guy two desks down, he’d have let you through” said Cheryl.

“Why?” I said

“Bent as a paperclip. Stood out a mile”

“Mum! You can’t say that!” exclaimed Fred, she was into political correctness, even then. I stopped walking, I couldn’t walk for laughing. Looking back in my mind, I realised that she was spot on. She was observant.

“I’m not judging him, he just was. The two women who wanted to check in for Prague were turned away because they were five minutes too early”

We went through to departures, to another branch of Lingo’s, where I bought a round of coffees and toast. Luton hadn’t gone continental with croissants (and increased prices) yet. “Here, Chris, let us pay for ours” Sarah, Joanne, and Cheryl all said, in so many words. I told them not to bother.

“You’ll all get the chance to buy me a Greek coffee – grit with sugar from what I can gather – during the two weeks. Two weeks! I am so looking forward to this!” It was true, I hadn’t expected a holiday this year. It was also true I was supposed to be revising and stuff for the final year. I didn’t, and it made no difference as far as I could tell. I got a very good 2:1 and went on to do a PhD and become a lecturer. I like to think it made me a better tutor for my students later.

Cheryl calmed down. It seemed that Fred hadn’t been ready when Cheryl wanted to leave and that had caused a row, which, of course, meant they left even later. Then they hit the road works on the motorway and the three lanes became two lanes became one lane of immobile traffic; and Cheryl started to fume. She came close to sitting her hand on the horn – only Tony’s insistent arguments stopped her. They had intended to stop at the services for a break, Cheryl wasn’t a comfortable driver, but now there was no time and this made things worse. And when they got to the airport she missed the turning for the long stay and had to drive round the one-way system again. All of which meant she was in explosive mood when the man at the long stay check in was relaxed about when the next minibus would pick them up. He looked shell shocked, according to Fred’s highly descriptive and amusing (even to Cheryl) telling of the story. “Oh, dear was I really that rude to him? I’ll have to apologise if he’s there when we get back”

“I wouldn’t worry too much Cheryl” said Sarah “He’s probably used to it”

“You mean” added Fred “that he’s used to histrionic women verbally flaying him alive?”

“Fred, you’re a stirrer aren’t you?” I laughed

“A girl’s got to have some fun” she replied “On which point, Mum, have you told him the news”

“No, not yet, I was waiting for a good time. Why don’t you all go shopping?”

“I’m off to the loo” said Tony, and pulled a reluctant Fred with her. Fred wanted to see my reaction to whatever it was apparently. Sarah and Joanne went off with them.

It transpired that no-one had thought of the sleeping arrangements. The boat had a forward cabin, two bench seat/beds in the saloon, and an aft cabin under the cockpit. There was a narrow walkway from the saloon to this rear cabin. So each room slept two; and there were six of us. I saw the problem. I suggested that we might be able to re-arrange something, but she said no, she’d considered it all and thought the best route was for us – her and me – to share the rear cabin if that was alright. She stressed that it wasn’t because she didn’t trust me, but, well ... I could see her predicament. I understood why this holiday had to work from her point of view, and again, conscious of my status I did not wish to rock the boat. I smiled at my own pun, and said it out loud. She smiled too. “You’re very understanding. Thank you, I’ll let you pick whichever bunk you want”

The girls came back forty minutes before boarding, already Cheryl was starting to stress. This was the first time she had ever steeled herself to take the family away without Kevin. Secretly she was pleased that Tarquin had opted to go off with a friend’s family, he could be a handful; but she did worry that he might be difficult for them. In the event, Tarquin fell in love, well into a crush; his friend’s older brother was a bronzed god (he was, I saw the pictures) and Tarquin apparently turned into an obedient puppy for the whole holiday. Max, it transpired, was also gay, which was used to teased Tarquin for several years after he started chasing girls ‘remember your first boyfriend Tarq?’

We headed for the gate. I was sitting with Cheryl, Fred with Tony, and Sarah with Joanne. I suggested to Tony that she swap with Sarah or Joanne, so Fred could get to know one or other of the girls a little better, which they did. This was in the days of being fed on airlines, so, at 3pm, we took off, and, at 3:20pm they came round with drinks. Cheryl wondered if the girls would drink. I suggested she put her worry beads to one side and enjoy the flight. She looked out of the window, over clear sky and said “Is that a ship?”

Now to see if it was, I had to lean over her, I was conscious of my ear stroking her bust, and tried to ignore it; after all, she had asked me to look. “Oh yes, there’s several, you can see the wake from them” We drank our wine (I opted for white wine rather than beer; trying to appear sophisticated) and then received our heated plastic containers of late lunch (or was it early dinner?). Food was a way of keeping customers happy and occupied. The food was okay, it wouldn’t get an Egon Ronay star. When I went to the toilets in the middle of the plane, not long after, I passed the four girls. Somehow that were seated together, two pairs of seats behind each other, where we were several rows away. All had a plastic glass in front of them. I smiled and deliberately didn’t ask what they were drinking. Back at my seat, Cheryl said “They came round with drinks and coffee, I got you a whisky and a white coffee, is that okay?” Clearly her concern for the welfare of her female charges didn’t include me, I was an adult and expected to drink. I noticed she had a gin. We chatted and that was when I heard about the sins of Kevin. Not the adultery ones, the sins of omission with regard to his family. He was a shit, no question. Missing school concerts, cancelling holidays. It wasn’t favouritism; he was no better to Tarquin than to the girls; it was just that Tarquin used it as a role model, where as Tony and Fred just came to expect little from their parent. That was why this holiday was important. “Probably the last one with Tony, I wanted to make it happen despite Kevin. One day he’ll wake up and realise what he has missed I think. Sorry, I’m embarrassing you,”

“No, not a bit. I just don’t know how to respond I suppose. I’ve been lucky, my parents always took two weeks off every year and we’d do something as a family. I know they didn’t always have loads of money, but the best holiday I ever went on was the second camping holiday we had. We camped in Scotland, in a wood. Do you know I still don’t know where it was? I’ve tried to work it out; I must make Dad show me on a map. It was semi-wild camping. We had a fire at night, and it rained half the time – this was Scotland after all – but it wasn’t cold. So we ran around in muddy shorts and teeshirt and no shoes and I saw a red squirrel. I can’t remember one place we visited; only the pervading sense of joy in that holiday”

“You’re lucky, I envy you. Not the wild camping, not that.” No, she didn’t look like someone to rough it. “But the happy holidays.”

“It wasn’t all wonderful. Mum wasn’t the most wild camper either. She gave us a half a tin of fruit one day for dessert, and the next way we had the other half and there was a crunch in my mouth. She swore it was just a hard piece of fruit until I produced the half wasp that was left. I’d swallowed the other half. She’d just left the open tin beside the cooker you see. Still, it’s a memory isn’t it?”

The flight passed much quicker than they often do. I learnt a lot about Cheryl, and her children. She had been at university when she met Kevin, he was in his final year. By the end of her first year, she was pregnant. At nineteen she had a child, Antonia, and was struggling to continue her studies whilst looking after the baby. Kevin, I gathered, did very little to help. Within a year, she was pregnant again. She gave up her university place, and regretted it for the next fourteen years (in other words, she still did). They left and moved to this town when Kevin’s job started to take off. He was good at his job, she knew that; and she was supportive in what she said. Even when she had regrets, she never applied negativity on him. Tarquin had come along a couple of years after Frederica. Why the, less usual names, I asked, diplomatically. “My middle name is Antonia, so that explains that, the other two were names Kevin liked.” she could see me doing calculations “and I’m thirty five, to save you the maths”

“You could go back to uni couldn’t you? Once Tarquin is a little older” I asked and she smiled.

“I doubt that I could cope these days”

“Nonsense. You’re clearly capable, that’s not meant to sound arrogant or patronising. You are. University often starts from scratch rather than building on A-Levels, in any case” I finished my whisky and she finished her gin. It had been a good flight so far...

We woke an hour later, her head was on my shoulder and she had dribbled a bit. She apologised, I didn’t mind attractive woman saliva on my shoulder. We were coming in to land, the captain said, hoping we’d enjoyed our flight. I could honestly that yes, yes I had.

The airport was the normal expected chaos. It never changes, hasn’t improved in years. Floods of tourists arrive and there aren’t enough baggage handlers, carousels, passport controllers, or working trolleys (always a stack of ones with wonky wheels). I hate all airports, this one is in my top ten hates. Finally we made it out and there was the smiling rep “Chris Chamber’s party” sign in her hand. We were the only group that day flying in from Luton, other flights were from Gatwick, Edinburgh, Bristol and Belfast, but only the six of us from Luton. She smiled like it was taped on. I couldn’t do that job, people arriving; hot, tired. confused, drunk even. And she has to smile at them all. We got onto the coach and waited for the Bristol flight, with its thirteen passengers for our coach, to emerge. At least the coach was air-conditioned; though now I would question running a coach engine just to keep the air-conditioning working. Very wasteful.

Still, it was nice not to cook whilst we waited. They eventually turned up, hot, bothered and complaining; we smiled to ourselves as we were models of good behaviour. The Bristol group had to sit spread out; luckily we were sitting in pairs so didn’t have to share a seat and listen to their moaning except at third hand. “And then the coffee ran out! And the stewardess said their wasn’t time to make some more and the captain looked like was just out of school and...”

The journey to the marina was short on distance and long on time, lots of creeping forward in traffic jams. I said to Cheryl, “Now this is a traffic jam!” The two lane dual carriageway had three and a half lanes of traffic. Unlike in England where people probably wouldn’t argue with a coach, here, no-one cared. They all honked, and progress was very slow. A voice somewhere said “no wonder their economy is a disaster” which Fred tutted at; but it was probably what most of us were thinking, one way or another.

Finally we reached the water and everybody disembarked. We had been told we were on Puffin; all the yachts being named after seabirds. The four girls took their luggage to find the boat and claim bunks. Cheryl and I were kept talking for ten minutes by a willing, keen rep, Mike; who should have realised that we wanted to find our boat really. So when we got to Puffin, the sisters were occupying the cupboards in the saloon, Sarah and Joanne were unpacked in the forward cabin. They were lounging around on deck. None of them had thought of checking out the boat. We went below and saw a problem. The forward cabin was two singles with an optional insert to make it a V-shaped double. It was really quite small. The saloon had two singles and we’d already agreed it would not be that good for each girl visiting the toilets to have to wander past me at night. The aft cabin was a double. Not convertible to a double, but a permanent double. On the plus side, it was bigger than the forward cabin. Cheryl and I looked at it, and looked at each other. “Will this work?” I said “We can put cushions down the middle”

“Yes, I guess so. Though I’m sure I can trust you”

The other problem was that the bed was at one side, to allow standing space at the port side of the boat. The narrow walkway from the saloon carried into the aft cabin with a door to close it off. The bed was six feet 2 inches long, the cabin was six feet 8 inches long. The options for getting into the far side of the bed were to crawl across the bed, of crawl up the bed from the base. We thought of switching round the bedding so the opening was at the end with the 6 inch access, but there would be nothing to lean against if you wanted to sit up, no lights if you wanted to read. One good feature was that, just outside the door was a small heads. On the other side was the bathroom, this also had a heads. It was a wet room really, with shower, washbasin and toilet. Two toilets for six people was probably a good idea. The toilet by our bedroom had a thimble sized basin for washing hands, but I figured it would do for dampening a flannel and washing myself too. I also figured we might have to restrict showers if we weren’t going to have to top up with water every day.

When the girls saw our bedroom, I’m not sure it clicked in their heads at first what this meant. They said how nice the big bed was. It was only as Tony left that I saw a glint in her eye. She’d realised, and was seeing the humour in it. “Brian Rix has nothing on this” she whispered “You know? The farces?” Oh yes, well, hopefully this wouldn’t descend into farce. I dumped my bag and went on deck to start familiarising myself with the ropes. I didn’t want to drop the mast instead of the anchor.

Tony joined me later, as did Joanne. It seemed these two were both interested in getting this right. There was a welcome drink for skippers and ‘second in command’. I was pleased it was called that. I didn’t want to have to refer to any of the girls or women as my mate. Cheryl and I went along and heard about the overall plan for the two weeks – sail in group for two days, then two days free for those that want it, then meet up again for a night and so on. We were warned to avoid the massive sand spit near the entrance to the bay, plan to give it a wide berth and then add some more on, was the advice. And we were given a crash course in the use of the radio. “Only Mayday if you are on fire and sinking. Pan Pan for help needed, else just ‘this is boat name, boat name, boat name’ We’ll be listening for you.” Some idiot asked why we had to say ‘boat name’ rather than the actual name of the boat. How do people like that survive to adult hood?

Then we headed back to the boat. Two girls were driving their hair, the other two were looking annoyed. “There’s something wrong with the water, it’s stopped.”

“Just out of interest, how long did you stay in the shower?” I asked

“Not long, honestly. We each took the least time possible, about fifteen minutes.”

“So – thirty minutes in total? I’m surprised the water lasted that long. Remember, every gallon in the water tank is an extra 8 pounds of weight. Two hundred and fifty gallons is an extra ton. And that slows the boat. So ... too much water makes too much weight, so the amount of water is limited. And once we’re out of here, we’ll have to pay for filling up. So...”

“Yes, yes, got it. No more long showers.” Tony said, looking meaningfully at Sarah and Fred.

“Some of the ports, harbours I mean, will have showers I know. That’s what Craig told us” added Cheryl. “You two can be responsible for refilling the water tank then. There’s a hose pipe over there”

“Will we have to pay?” asked Fred, looking a little concerned for her holiday money. Cheryl kept her children’s feet on the ground when she could. They were well off, but she tried to make sure they understood money.

“No, you’re okay. Here it will be free” I said, and she looked relieved. “Were the showers warm?”

“No, cool. It was lovely”

“I think there is a heater when the engine is running. Otherwise there is a solar powered device in the locker there. In fact if you fill that too then we can use it tomorrow.” I was referring to a large pressurised watering can. You filled it and then left it in the sun. We left the girls sorting this out and went down to get changed. I walked over to the land based toilet block with some coins, as did Cheryl. We came back showered and refreshed. The other two suddenly realised that there was an option to the boat shower. They weren’t too adventurous in looking around. Tony and Joanne rushed over. There was only one shower in the ladies and one in the gents. When they came back, they explained that they had opted to share for speed and to save money. I tried not to think about that.

Then we all walked into the town (promptly getting hot, sweaty and dusty again) to the bar designated as the first night’s meal location. I wondered how much of a kickback or discount the reps got, call me cynical. Jugs of retsina were put on the long table and a limited menu for the whole group was offered at a special price. Cheryl said she would pay for this because, after all, us (she meant Sarah, Joanne and especially me – well, she did!) coming had meant the holiday could go ahead. We ate, drank, had more wine, ate more Greek salad and feta than was good for us and walked back happy and cheerful. It was a good first evening. The next day was to be a not too early start. Beginning with a skipper’s conference at 10. We designated Sarah and Tony to go for fresh bread in the bakery we’d seen. Then Cheryl, and whoever else wanted to go, would go to the supermarket whilst I learnt about the first destination.

Chivalry prevailed, and I opted to use the small toilet to get into pyjama bottoms (no top, it was still like a hot summer at 11pm), whilst Cheryl got ready in our bedroom and laid out the bed however she wanted it. The only unforeseen circumstance with this was that as I came into the gangway, I saw Fred pulling her pyjama bottoms up. She had pants on too, so it wasn’t as if I saw anything unfortunate. But the very act of seeing a girl in her underclothes was a reminder that I’d have to be careful not to do anything that I’d regret. Hearing the noise, she looked round (she already had the top on – unfortunately) and realised what I’d seen ... and smiled. Oh, no, I had to avoid looking interested in the youngest member of the crew. I waved and retreated. Tony came out of the bathroom as I disappeared.

In our bedroom, Cheryl had opted to sleep against the wall, and put a token single cushion between us. It was more a statement of intent than any kind of genuine preventative. I took this as an indication that she didn’t see me as a threat, which was good. As I got in beside her, we heard someone enter the heads on both sides. Boats have no sound proofing. We could clearly hear one girl piddling into the toilet and another producing a clearly well needed load of crap. Cheryl and I stayed silent, looked at each other and slowly dissolved into silent laughter as the bodily functions of the young women on the other side of thin glass fibre walls were heard in all their detail. Even a little “uuughmmmph” was heard as whoever it was squeezed the last poo out. I had to push my head into the pillow to stay quiet. Cheryl, on the other hand, stayed sitting up, shaking with silent laughter, which caused her unrestricted bust to wobble up and down. She was wearing a night dress that covered all the essentials, but also made the most of them. It was not lost on either of us that we would be similarly heard.

I was asleep in minutes, despite the presence of an attractive woman just inches away. I thought I might have trouble with that, but no, not until the morning. I was tired from the travel, we all were. Soon, I think we all sank into a well-deserved slumber. I did have to get up once in the night due to the several glasses of wine needing to vacate my bladder.

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