Summer Sailing
Chapter 13

Copyright© 2017 by HAL

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - 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 12

We were all tired out. So the threesome became a surprisingly tame affair. We all undressed, I got to fondle a breast, feel a bottom, kiss lovely pair of lips, and drift off to sleep in a haze of very interesting and explicit dreams. We woke at 9:13 am and were still the first up (first up because we all needed the toilet).

I was disappointed to lose the chance of the threesome, but not so disappointed. I was having the time of my life.

That day, we all agreed we needed to sail back to the marina, where there was a laundry we could use. The duvet cover and sheets in that back cabin would have been wrinkled and ripe in any case, given the heat; but they were very ripe, covered in stains that covered most body fluids (possibly lymph was excluded, but blood, semen, urine, vaginal and other leakages, saliva from me drooling in my sleep as I dreamt of it raining girl; plus some tea, coffee and fruit juice). We couldn’t leave it like that.

It would be a long sail, so we set off as soon as enough of us were ready. We made coffee and scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast. When I say ‘we’ I mean Cheryl, who actually enjoyed that part of the holiday. She told me she hated cooking in her designer-kitchen; it was boring, but cooking in a cramped, heeling, galley was fun. I could see where Tony got her spirit from.

“I don’t want this to end” Fred said, nestling under my arm as I steered with the other arm. “It’s magical”

“You could always aim to become a crew on a lead boat, like Jackie”

“Or become the lead, like Craig” corrected Sarah

“No! She’s going to do something more than bum around Greece!” Cheryl said firmly.

“Of course, she could bum around the Caribbean in the winter” I said and ducked as she threw a piece of bread at me.

It was a quiet sail really, the crew were all able to sail now. The sails were cleated off and the helmsman (person) just needed to keep and eye out. The rest of us read, sun bathed or relaxed. And we made it back in six hours, which was not bad. We landed and bundled the worst up into a rucksack to hide it and Cheryl and Sarah went off to the launderette, Fred and I went shopping for food (and had a crafty coffee and cake too).

“One more night. And you’re sleeping with Sarah tonight aren’t you? I suppose there’s always tomorrow night, if you plan it right?”

“Fred, you are incorrigible. No. Much as I’d love to sleep with your sister and Joanne; that ship has sailed. We’ll be too busy. Still, it’s been a most amazing holiday. I can’t complain. Hopefully, neither can you?”

“I’ve certainly not had a holiday like it, Chris”

“Me neither” we both jumped. Cheryl was right behind us. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. We saw you from the window of the launderette. Sarah is watching the washing.” I think we were both grateful we hadn’t mentioned what we’d actually done. We had a quick chat about what to eat tonight and agreed maybe we’d eat out, just the six of us.

It was nice, we sat around the table and talked about the sailing, and the storm. We talked about the swimming and the turtle we saw. And Sarah rubbed my leg with her foot – and Fred could see and smirked. Last night of sex, I thought. Ah, well. It’s been pretty good. Back to nice girls who will let you touch them on the third date and are saving themselves for ‘the right man’. I can’t say I blame them, sleeping around doesn’t seem to make girls (or boys) any happier. This holiday was an exception to that. It wasn’t like I was sleeping around, or having one-night stands. I don’t know what you’d call it when three girls demand to have sex to clear their virginity out of the way (even if one of them then admitted they weren’t actually virginal in the first place), and one woman who definitely needed to feel like she was more than eye-candy, housekeeper for a serial philanderer; and of course one girl who was too young for sex yet but then makes damn sure I took her up the butt instead so she can still say, honestly, she’s a virgin. Yeah, I wonder what you call that? ‘A fucking great holiday’ would be one description; but, generally principled and moral, that I am, I didn’t feel any guilt over this. Why was that? Because they were all willing? Because I was doing them a favour? Or because I was exhausted and hadn’t thought it through? I hadn’t even checked that Cheryl was on the pill! She told me after the event that she was. The three nubiles had all assured me that they were; Fred wasn’t of course. That was another very good reason not to take that particular fruity prize; though it wasn’t one I was thinking about at the time. The banshee mother hacking my balls off with a rusty knife was more of a discouragement on that score.

 
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