Summer Sailing
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2017 by HAL

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - 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 FOUR

The following day, all was back to normal, except for a tingle. Actually at 5:13am precisely, which was the time I had to get up and found it didn’t hurt, all was back to normal. I came back to bed and saw Cheryl looking at me. “All well again? You seem to be moving easier”

I agreed, and reached out to her hand, missing and putting my hand on her left breast instead. “My, you’re keen aren’t you? Well, that’s good, because I think the three girls want to get on with it, so I’ll turfed out today” With that, she slid towards me and we kissed. She had told me that she didn’t think of it as cheating on Kevin since Kevin had started it. I was happy with that conclusion.

Did we still have to be quiet? Well, yes, Cheryl still felt that having her children hear her make love was not what she wanted; and I tended to agree. Though whether this would apply later in the week the other way, I wasn’t sure. I pulled up her nightdress and sucked her nipples. I immediately got an erection – it tingled. Clearly not entirely cured then. The hard on was because I thought of how these very breasts had suckled the two girls next door. Obviously they were a lot smaller then, but the idea of Tony sucking a breast now just turned me on hugely. Then I went South, pulled down her pants – dark blue I noted – and resolved to learn how to give a woman proper oral sex. “Teach me” I said and licked her. She understood, so whispered instruction went back and forth, well just forth really.

“Yes, open me with your fingers, gently. Then your tongue can get in further. Ooooh yes, that’s nice. No, not to much yet; just sort of flick past. Move around and then come back. Mmmm Nice. Oh, look, gag me.”

I looked up “What?”

“Gag me, I’m not going to be able to stay silent”

I found my tee shirt from the day before, and then picked up her pants. Should I? Yes, I balled them up and pushed them into her mouth, her eyes were wide with surprise; then I tied my teeshirt round her face. Dropping back to her hairy entrance, I started back on what she had told me to do. To be honest, she still wasn’t that quiet “Mmmm. MMMM! MMHHHH!” But perhaps that’s better than what she was actually saying. I found my tongue getting tired, but she had come so I felt comfortable just nipping her outer lips and sucking at the entrance as she persisted in leaking.

A voice from next door just said “Gross!” So they could hear if they were awake. Ah well, which is worse? Hearing your mother climax or hearing your daughter lose her virginity. Because that was the next thing on the agenda I thought.

She calmed down, and I ungagged her, though she could have done that herself. “You gagged me with my pants!” she said in an urgent whisper. “That was so ... erotic. Maybe I’ll let you tie me up another time” Evidently Cheryl had missed out on the moderate S&M side of sex. So had I, so far.

She wanted the loo, but I told her she had to relieve me first “What do you want then?” I looked at her and touched her mouth. That was all it took. She picked up her pants and, yes, she pushed them into my mouth with a leer. She didn’t tie them in, she didn’t need to. Then she went down, pulled off my pyjamas and sucked me off, just like that. It still tingled, which was extra interesting. I wondered if stinging nettles on the cock would have the same erotic feeling. I certainly wasn’t up for another wasp sting there. Unlike me, she was good at this. She knew precisely what to do. Her lovely lips, tongue, teeth and fingers brought me to ejaculate in a few minutes; despite trying to hold back as long as I could. As I started to pump, I felt her move back a little. She was going to disengage but I grabbed her head and kept it on me, I pumped into her, and felt great. She had a mouthful, well, she had semen in her mouth, even if it wasn’t a whole mouthful. She looked, struggled and finally swallowed. “I never swallow with him.” she said “Yours isn’t so bad” I think that was a compliment.

We curled up together and waited for a cup of tea to be brought in. This time Tony knocked. “I hear you’re feeling better. I mean, the whole boat heard that you were feeling better.” She smiled though. So I figured we were cool; as cool as you could be if you’d just had oral sex with someone’s mother.

When we got up, I drew the short straw, the tiny heads with even tinier basin. I had a lot of sweat and body fluids to wash off; but then so did Cheryl. The girls were all up, and persisted in embarrassing us both by giving us a round of applause when we went up on deck.

The next couple of days were ‘free’ days. We had to suggest where we were going, just in case we disappeared, but otherwise we were on our own. We opted to sail past the end of the islands for a spell. We put in a wide detour to avoid the underwater sand bank. Later we heard that Captain Haddock had hit it. His real name was Handcook I think, something like that, but he wore a little blue hat that said ‘Captain’ and took himself far too seriously. We would have gone back to help if the lead boat hadn’t answered, but it did. We left the radio on channel 16 to listen in because it was funny. He had started the holiday by offering us, well me really, advice about where to go, how to sail. When we met up, he still took no responsibility, the spit of sand had moved way beyond what the chart said (which we had been warned it might) and there was no way to be sure you were round it, it was pure luck that we avoided it – yes, luck and listening to the advice of the people who knew the area I suppose. Some people can never take responsibility for their mistakes, I suppose they think a mistake lessens them. Me? I think we’re all human, failable humans. Probably a product of a Christian upbringing I suppose, all we like sheep have gone astray and all that. We sailed south to Port Neua (I may have the spelling wrong); new, that was, in 967 when the Byzantine Emperor opened a new port on this part of the coast because the old one was silting up. The old one is in a marshy area inland now. The inlet it was on provided excellent protection from storms, but it silted up more and more and eventually (in 989) was abandoned completely. By that time the new port had taken all the trade. It was more open to the elements, but always had water, and the stone breakwaters, which still exist, provided protection from all except the 100 year storms. There is a castle on the point, it was Byzantine, Turkish, Venetian, Napoleonic and finally, briefly, British; and all of the occupants added to it. We struggled up and walked around it; entrance being the equivalent of 50p I think. Then we split up and I found myself in a coffee bar finally drinking a Greek coffee (which, as predicted, is grit with sugar) and writing postcards home. I had just finished when Tony turned up with Fred. They bought coffees too – milcy cofee as the menu said. “Now, look, Chris, you’re back on form. So it’s time to switch round.” said Tony. “Don’t pretend you aren’t up for this, cos. we know you are. And I think it would be fair if Fred had first dibs”

 
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