Chapter 1

Sweet Christine; I opened my eyes; I remembered I was aboard Sweet Christine; Heather was sleeping next to me on her back, covered by a single layer of thin cotton fabric.

Her small breasts rose and fell peacefully, her mouth watering nipples clearly visible. Her head rested on her short tangled mop of gnarled dark curls. Her nose had an inside curve with a cute bulbous end. Fine lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes suggested that she was in her mid thirties, and that she smiled often.

I didn’t move; I just looked at her rapturously, memorizing every pore, every hair. I loved her more than I knew it was possible to love, a sweet emotional clamp on my soul.

We hadn’t had sex; at that time, I didn’t think we would have sex. This love was more than that, it transcended carnal desires. I would love this woman for the rest of my life even if she never said another kind word to me.

I owed her my life, I had a hardon, and we shared a bunk. We literally slept together. But she wasn’t my lover.

Yet.

Two days earlier, I was relaxing on my own bunk on my own boat, looking at nude photos of a girl I’d known for a while. Hot black sexy Angela. I wasn’t sure why we’d spilt up. Maybe because I was twice her age. Maybe because I was broke. We’d had fun together. I missed her.

My boat sailed along through the night, autosteering set. I was alone in the middle of a huge empty sea.

I didn’t know Heather even existed.

She woke after a while, and saw me watching her. She smiled, her pixyish face bright and lovely. She sat up, and the cloth fell away, exposing her small sweet breasts. She didn’t seem at all self-conscious about her nudity, sharing a bunk with a total stranger, a graying unshaved older man.

The cabin door was open, providing a clear view right through the small vessel up to the helm where Mike sat behind the wheel. He wouldn’t be able to see us though, as it was extremely bright in the wheelhouse and fairly dark in the cabin. The boat gently sailed up the swells, and down again.

“Good morning.” she said, possibly with a hint of suggestion in her alluring voice. She had a strong accent, northern English or Scottish, a melodic speech pattern that I associated with no one else, that tickled my soul every time I heard it. The voice that pulled me from death, the voice that my mind would forever associate with life.

I looked up at her radiance, my mouth watering at those lovely little tits as I returned her greeting.

She wrapped the thin strip of cotton that had been her sheet around her hips, so it became a skirt as she slid out of the bunk. She didn’t bother to cover her breasts.

Her eyes flicked over my body and I saw a smile as she turned to the little sink to brush her teeth.

She could have used the sink in the galley, or the one at the head; I watched her tangled hair and firm little tits bounce as she brushed, then rinsed, using little fresh water.

She was a small woman, slim, with a tight ass. I knew I shouldn’t love her, I had no right.

I’d been aboard for three days. Three days since Heather and Mike had rescued me, five since my own boat had been ripped in two by a submerged container, and sank.

I hadn’t been wealthy before the sinking, but now I had nothing.

I’m a tough old sea dog; I’ve charmed many the young tourist into my bunk during my years bumming around the tropics on my little sail boat. Heather was a fine looking woman but no beauty queen; yet I’d never in all my life experienced such powerful emotions.

We shared the forward bunk because it was the only one. There was another cabin but it had been converted to a store room. The boat didn’t actually have space for me, and the fact was that I had no place onboard, literally or figuratively.

She knew I was watching her of course. She straightened up and smiled at me. A naked woman, a naked man, a bed. We’d been flirting since I was hauled aboard. I wanted her, but I was hesitant. I didn’t know these people at all, we were on a small boat slowly sailing through the biggest, emptiest ocean on earth.

It took all my willpower to relax my erection.

“What’s the story with you and Mike?” I asked as she climbed back into the bunk.

“Does it really matter?” she asked as I slid my feet to the floor to use the sink.

We were just south of the equator, it was hot. The sea was hot, the air was hot, Heather was hot. Washing skin uses less water than washing clothes; nudity was practical.

They’d found a spare toothbrush for me. I knew she was watching me, my cock bouncing between my thighs as I brushed. Casual nudity was becoming erotic voyeurism. I was still an attractive man.

“Yes.” I said. “You two went out of your way to rescue me; Mike told me that you burned up most of your diesel doing it. I’m an uninvited passenger.”

“Mike has a wife waiting for him in Australia.” Heather said, her big dark eyes looking at me with undisguised desire. This was it; the flirtation had reached the point of no return, this juicy little woman could be mine.

I turned to face her. My cock hung between my thighs; I was grey and old, strong and lean. Aside from Mike, I was the only man in hundreds of miles. Maybe thousands.

“But I saw you with Mike. You’re lovers.” I said to her.

After being hauled out of my tiny inflatable life raft, hungry and dehydrated, I’d slept for a long time. When I woke up, I stuck my confused head into the wheelhouse and seen Heather sitting in the captain’s chair, her groin pushed forward and her knees over Mike’s shoulders, her hands in his hair, her face a picture of rapture as he pleasured her. They were a couple, on a boat, at sea. I was a castaway, flotsam they’d charitably hauled aboard.

I couldn’t get between them, it would be more than wrong. It would be dangerous.

“Not really.” Heather insisted. “We ... Look after each other. Shipmates, that’s all. Mike will only, um, go so far as it were.”

I stood in the small cabin, facing her, my exposed cock swelling just slightly, unable to keep still between my thighs. She lay on the bed on her back, knees raised and parted. I was looking right into her hairy groin, at her pink center. She was looking back at me, at my broad chest, my wide shoulders, my twitching penis. The boat surged gently up a long shallow swell, and down the other side. There was little wind and we were barely making way.

“This is a really odd conversation.” I noted. “So you and Mike aren’t ‘really’ lovers, you only do oral.”

“That’s it exactly.” Heather said, her fingers running up her torso sensuously.

“Oral sex is sex, Heather.” I said.

She stared at me with her big brown eyes, lifting herself on her elbows, which forced her breasts forward.

“Are you really saying ‘no’?” she asked, her eyes running up and down my body blatantly. “What Mike and I do is just foreplay.” She insisted, “I like it well enough, but it doesn’t really do it for me. I need one up the middle from time to time, a proper seeing to.”

My cock refused to obey me anymore, and I felt it swell larger, lifting a little as it grew.

Heather smiled as she watched triumphantly.

“Come on.” She urged, “Close the door and bring that jolly looking fellow over here. I’ve put a lot of investment into you, don’t you think I deserve just a spot of fun?”

The voice; her sweet, hypnotic, powerful tone hooked my heart and demolished my hesitancy.

I reached behind and found the edge of the door, I closed it while keeping my eyes on her irresistible smile. That was the sexy part; every woman has a cunt, it says nothing. A tight ass and narrow hips are attractive, but the face is what gets me; and when a pretty face like Heather’s smiles, smiles at me with desire, there’s not much I can do.

There was no lock. Mike was on watch, but didn’t need to stay in the wheelhouse all the time. He could walk in on us easily. And as soon as he saw that the door had been closed he’d know exactly why. There was no other imaginable reason to close it.

I crawled up into the forward bunk, bringing my face near hers as her hand found my penis. She wrapped her fingers around it, and I surged to full erection as I watched her face light up. There was no stopping now; we’d passed the point of no return. It might be the best thing to ever happen, or an utter disaster, but the decision was made. My old cock was throbbing with energy at her touch, ecstatic, ready, potent.

I lowered my lips to her mouth and we kissed; our bodies were still separated by an inch of warm equatorial air.

Her mouth accepted mine eagerly, her tongue wet and sensual, as her free hand gripped my shoulder tightly.

Life at sea does things to the human body. The constant movement of the boat works the muscles all the time, heaving sails, supplies, and ropes widen the shoulders. We yachters usually have sexy frames, but the sea air and sunlight is hard on the skin and hair.