Summer Sailing
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2017 by HAL

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - 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 EIGHT

Halfway and yet not half way. Joanne was still untried. But now I wasn’t sure if she would want to. Was she not interested in men?

We radioed Joshua Handcook and crew and said we would head back to see what’s what. He said he’d follow. So we left the lovely little harbour and this time put up sail instead of engine. It meant having to tack down towards the sand spit and then tack away. I wondered how close we could go. I was ordered by a bevy of mutinous crew not to let us get too close. It would have been nice to sail in until the depth gauge showed 20 feet or so and then swing away, but we had no way of knowing if there were deeper parts and shallower parts, we might end up confused and then stuck. I was pretty sure Craig would not be happy to have to come and rescue us.

So we stayed well clear and put in at least two extra tacks before rounding the point and heading for the bay again. In the bay, there was no sign of devastation. No boats on their sides on the beach. No litter of clothes and sails lying along the water line. In fact, there was nothing at all! Seeing Arctic Tern behind, I got Joanne (now unofficial radio officer) to tell them there was nothing to be seen and we were heading for the next rendezvous. I was guessing that Craig and his crew would be worried sick that we had perished on the high seas.

Lingoria Island is famous for being the site of the palace of mythical King Cronos, the place where Mick Jagger had his first encounter with that blonde model whose name I can never remember; the one who claimed he ... well, you know that story already, and of course the place where Lord Byron said all the women looked like dogs and all the dogs like beautiful women. They bred the famous Lingoria hunting dogs of course. Lingoria Island is miles from Lingoria Port, which is why the Lost Guide says that Lingoria is nothing special. The writer was at the wrong place, I think.

We arrived and counted four boats plus the lead. Where were the other two? Turned out that after we left, two more upped anchor. They couldn’t find our refuge (and didn’t know to switch to channel 21) and so sailed on. They were sailing all night and were actually back at the start. They had opted to spend the rest of the holiday in the harbour, safely tied to solid land. The harbour master had phone the message to the taverna on the hill, and he had come down to tell Craig. Therefore, we two were the last of his lost souls to be found. He was relieved. He told us, over a refreshing sangria (sangria! In Greece! The taverna was owned by a Spaniard who had introduced the Spanish national drink to this island and the tourists to his great profit) how he, Mike and Jackie had spent an exhausting night relaying anchors, including their own, over and over. They had been exhausted at the end and would have stayed in the bay despite the rough weather, if the client boats hadn’t insisted on leaving.

Craig was pleased that we were okay, and impressed that Tony had helmed almost all the way. I think that even after what, thirty six hours (and a session in bed with Joanne), she was still coming down from the high of sailing in the storm.

Back on board, the subject of bedrooms hadn’t been raised. I wasn’t sure what to say. So I asked Cheryl. “Of course she’s expecting you. She’s not gay, she and Tony were just trying out. Look, I’ve seen her looking at you, believe me, there is lust in her eyes.” I was smiling broadly at the end of that little speech. Joanne was eminently fanciable.

I mentioned to Cheryl about the need to find a launderette. “Yes, I know, maybe we’ll go back a day early? You really are a messy fucker you know. Oh dear, my language is deteriorating all the time. I wonder if Kevin is having as much fun as we are. I do hope not”

I thought of Tarquin too, if he’d come along the girls might not have been so free and easy about opening their legs. On the other hand he might have got to test-ride a girl or two. Who knows?

We sat on deck and drank a glass of wine. I watched Fred, she had stripped off to her bikini bottom as soon as it was warm enough. It was clear, to me, that she liked display her legs and bottom She had realised that she could not compete in the bust stakes, but her bottom was the smallest, the tightest and the baldest (for those of use who had been privileged a view). She looked across at me, that’s what I thought, she was trying to lure me in. I wished she was already fifteen. Fifteen seemed an acceptable age to break the sex taboo, only a year underage. But fourteen would definitely have me banged up. No, stick to the plan. Nothing inside her, well, no bodily fluids anyway; well, not spunk, saliva was okay. And I would welcome the chance to taste her again.

But tonight was the sexy Joanne. The Joanne who, even now, was having a quick shower and painting her nails. She would want everything right. I jumped over the side to wash off any sweat. Then I found my antiperspirant. I wanted her to feel comfortable. It was after 10 when we retired to the pit. I had taken to calling it the pit since it was turning into one. I’d made the bed as well as I could. And sprayed the room with some perfume, borrowed from Cheryl. But there was no disguising the fact that sex every night brought some extra organic matter into the bed. I’d even noticed a brown streak. I wasn’t sure if it was blood or shit, but a quick scrub and leaving the duvet folded back had removed that particular memento of a girl giving her all.

Joanne lay on the bed, looking like a million dollars. She had painted her toenails and fingernails (and filed the broken one down) turquoise; she had washed and brushed her hair so it was back to being the flowing cascade of dark blonde; she had shaved her legs! I could tell because when I touched her leg she was as smooth as silk rather than velvet. She even had some eye shadow on. And she was wearing a matching bra and pants set of dark mauve and white. If she hadn’t planned to have sex before she left, she had definitely come prepared, just in case. Beside her lay a battery operated toothbrush. “I’ve been saving the battery specially” I took a micro-second to cotton on.

“Oh? ... Ohhhh I see”

“Now, Chris. I have a special request. I understand from Sarah that you do requests?” I wondered what these girls understood by the word ‘private’. It was clear they discussed my performance.

“If I can, I aim to please”

“I want you to take me. I don’t mean like normal, lots of build up. I hear you are quite good at that. No. I want you to take me. You can be considerate later. I want you to bang me, fuck me, I want you to ra-”

“Let’s say ravish shall we? Not the other word”

“Yes, I want you to ravish me, ravish me good, as often as you like, however you like. It’s my fantasy to lose my virginity like this, unable to resist, dominated and subdued. Can you do that?”

“I ... I’ll try.”

“Try hard. Remember, I can only do this once. After tonight I’m just another woman wanting to have sex. Tonight I’m an innocent being forced to give up my cherry to ... you”

If I didn’t gulp, it was because my throat was dry. I looked at her and took a deep breath. I could hear the two in the main cabin. Right on cue one went into the bathroom and the other into the small heads. Aside from the noise of peeing, all went quiet. I left. She probably wondered why. I counted to ten and then walked in again.

“Hello? What have we here? No, no, don’t get up. I was told there was a present waiting for me. I didn’t realise it would be female rather than gold. Were you on the ship we took? I never saw you.”

She cottoned on “Please sir, don’t harm me. I was hiding in my father’s cabin, dressed as the cabin boy. Your captain found me and said I’d be a good reward for his nephew. Sir, I am untouched. Please sir. I’ll do anything.”

“That you will, that you will” I’m not by nature an actor. I’m not sure I can act a part and not live it. And I had to keep back from becoming the total rapacious bastard I was pretending to be. I grabbed her ankle as she made ineffectual efforts to edge away from me, and pulled her back down the bed. Then I slid my hand up her smooth leg. That skin! I can still remember how it felt, like satin. My fingers felt like rough chisels compared to her skin. I wondered how much she had shaved. Her armpits of course, but what about the other hair? Would it be shaped, trimmed, or even all gone? Hold hard, I told myself, take your time. And don’t rip her panties, even if you feel like it; they probably cost a fortune.

I slid my hand further up her leg until it reached her pants. She had said she didn’t want to be aroused with lots of stroking and kissing and stuff. She wanted to be ‘taken’. I slid my fingers under her panty leg and found her slit.

“What are you doing?” she said, looking worried. For a minute I thought I’d misunderstood. Then I saw the glint in her eye.

 
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