Chapter 3

Heather took to being naked most of the time, and the two of us did too. It was weird, yet became normal. Cocks swinging around the place, furry groins on display, Heather’s firm little tits bouncing as she walked, the damp tropical sea air.

Heather sucked Mike off daily, but not always in one event. She’d give him a little fondle, a hug and a kiss, maybe go down on him for a minute, then move away. He’d just grin, stroke himself a few times, and then let his hardon slowly deflate. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She seemed to like me watch her do it, the pain and taunting part of our relationship as she sucked my rival’s cock.

I never told her, but actually I felt more jealousy when she cuddled and kissed him, which she did a lot. When she’d just walk up behind him and stroke his neck or rub his shoulders for a minute, that easy intimacy that locked in his position as her lover.

She teased me too, fondling and caressing, sometimes in the semi-privacy of the cabin and sometimes right in front of Mike. She teased and pleased us both equally.

He liked to watch us; he’d just sit there smiling and playing with his cock. Basically, we were having sex all day, every day.

I’d be at the galley sink, washing up; Heather would squeeze herself behind me and play with my cock as I worked, then slip up the steps to sit on mikes lap for a while, kissing, caressing, loving.

She glowed all the time, her smile of delight as she teased us was too sexy to refuse. Anyway, there wasn’t much else to do on the small boat.

Mike and I alternated keeping watch and keeping Heather.

When heather was on her watch, one or the other of us would sleep in the bunk; but there came a night when sharing could not be avoided.

We lay there in the small bunk, two naked heterosexual men who shared a woman. I’ll spare my readers any anxiety; Mike and I didn’t do anything sexual. We talked though. Finally.

Heather was happy to jabber all day; and I loved to listen. Her childhood, her friends, her family, school, business, I knew them all by then. She’d left her job and her husband, gone to India to produce clothes to sell wholesale back home, but had left it all to sail off with Mike. She was married but separated.

Mike said little. He’d talk about general things, but not about himself.

“Mike, I’m an uninvited passenger, I don’t want to interfere with what you’ve got going on.”

“Don’t sweat it, mate.” Mike grunted, “It’s all good fun, Heather has needs and I’m glad you...”

“I don’t mean that, Mike. Look, I’ve been at sea for 30 years. I can tell you have a load on board, I assume it’s in that new oversized fuel tank that has no fuel in it.”

Mike was silent; I appreciated that he didn’t insult my intelligence by attempting denial.

“What do you want to do?” Mike asked.

“You could drop me on one of the islands.” I suggested. “I’ll bum a passage from someone.”

I would never rat on them, but I didn’t want to be aboard when the customs men came.

“Yeah, ok.” Mike said, “But don’t let Heather know you know. She’s paranoid about that sort of thing; just pretend you never figured it out, ok?”

As I fell asleep, I had an epiphany; Heather was a patsy. Mike had lured her aboard without telling her what he was doing.

That was a shock to me; in my world, smuggling is a choice many make, it’s one of the only ways to fund a life at sea. I chose to be poor instead of taking the risk, and I didn’t judge those who chose the other path. But to put a person at risk without their consent was wrong, that was a crime. Mike had spent 3 days finding me, even though he knew it might compromise his security. He’d done the right thing, that any of us would do, but I still owed him my life for it.

What should I do? Not tell Heather, and betray her? Or tell her and betray Mike?

The next morning I sat in the dim saloon, looking up into the wheelhouse where Heather lay on her back with her head on Mike’s thighs, looking up at his face as she rolled his stiff penis over her cheek. He smiled at her happily; could the same man who had spent 3 days and most of his precious fuel saving my life, be such a bastard?

Heather loved him. Maybe she’d love me, maybe if I charmed her, talked to her, and and fucked her well enough, her infatuation with him would fade.

She saw me and smiled; her teeth weren’t straight, her skin was rough and sun damaged, her hair was a mess.

And I loved her like I’d never loved before. Her smile was angelic, happy, sexy. Mike’s stiff penis against her cheek was a dash of salt in the sweet dish, a dose of reality in the fantasy.

Heather didn’t love me.

She liked me, she liked to laugh at my jokes, listen to my stories, tell me her own stories, and have sex. But she didn’t see me as a long term lover or partner. Just a stiff old cock, a man to see to her needs onboard, a bit of mutual fun because there was no one else to talk to or fuck out here.

Heather jumped up, leaving Mike with his stiff cock for later. She threw herself on me, naked, kissing, hot firm breasts against my chest, tongue in my mouth, laughter shaking her as I grabbed her tight ass in my hands and my cock swelled between her thighs.

She broke her mouth away, and twisted her head to look at Mike, and she grinned at him.

She loved this; teasing him, using me to punish him for not loving her properly.

The wind was fair and the temperature bearable. The sails were filled and the small boat gurgled happily through the clear blue water, the horizon sharp in every direction. A white frothy bow wave spread out from the hull as we made way through the mighty Pacific, our little games utterly insignificant to the deep vast ocean.

“Are you all recovered?” Heather asked, one hand sliding down between our legs to grab my penis.

“Oh, you have! Mike, he’s all recovered, ready for another go. You don’t mind, do you? A bout before breakfast would be lovely!”

Twice a day? Could I do that?

I could try.

“It’s my watch.” I pointed out.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Heather taunted Mike, “I’ll look after you later!”

She squeezed past me and headed for the front cabin, pulling me after herself by my sexual organ.

I glanced back at Mike apologetically. He shrugged his helplessness. If Heather wanted to fuck the castaway, heather would fuck the castaway.

But once the door was closed, and we were in bed, the mood altered a bit. I don’t do quickies.

I kissed her, licked her, sucked her. I massaged her feet and her ass, her shoulders and her arms. I rubbed my big hard cock across her smooth skin, until she grabbed it and stuffed it into herself.

Then I fucked her for a long time.

They had laptops with them, with movies to pass the time. But due to the fuel and power shortage, only the navigation gear was in use. We had to amuse ourselves in other ways.

She grunted and hummed, wiggled and squeezed, tickled and kissed. My balls were in no hurry.

She was getting too warm down there, so I rolled her over and she rode me for a while.

She had another orgasm, shuddering and happy with the pleasure, even though between us Mike and I were getting her off six times a day. I ran my fingertips down her torso, admiring her strong little body.

“Did you ever want children?” she asked.

“Sometimes.” I said, “But it was never the right time. Kids need homes, I haven’t had one of those for thirty years. What about you?”

“I’m 34.” She said, “Tick tock, if I don’t get knocked up soon it will probably be too late.”

“You still have years of fertility.” I said, the fact that my cock was still stiff in her vagina being a pertinent part of the conversation. “Heather, are you trying to get pregnant?”

What a stupid thing to ask in the middle of lovemaking; there was no way to pull the words back, and they hung heavy in the hot humid air of the cabin.

“I tried to get pregnant once.” She told me, “luckily it didn’t work, the guy was an asshole. Anyway, I don’t even know if I can.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“Is it a problem?”

I stared up at her; homeless, jobless, how could she possibly care for a baby? People just make do somehow.

“I have nothing.” I reminded her.

“That’s not completely true.” She said, with a smile that explained her meaning.

We fucked sitting face to face, we fucked doggy, we fucked scissors, we fucked missionary and finally I injected her with come.

She groaned with erotic pleasure, shuddering, bucking, holding me tight, burning me with her lust.

“I think there’s something primal about getting knocked up by a stranger in the mid-pacific.” She said with a sigh.

“I’d better go relieve Mike.” I said, getting to my feet.

“What? I thought only I did that.” Heather joked.

But as I took the helm, Mike went to the cabin and it wasn’t a joke really.

All this sucking and fucking was great, but I still had no answer to my dilemma. Presuming the load was cannabis, the penalty for import into Australia was minimum 7 years.

It occurred to me that if I wasn’t aboard, and they were caught, Heather would never have the chance to even try and get pregnant. Mike would have stripped her of that choice.

I looked down into the cabin; a shaft of light through a porthole lit it up. I could only see Mike’s lower half, and Heather’s face moving up and down his stiff rod. Slowly, sensuously, making it last. I watched, there was no reason not to. She sucked and fondled his balls, stopped to smile at him, then went back to work.

It hurt me, yet it didn’t. She wasn’t betraying me, or him.

I saw his hips lift and I knew he was coming. The woman I was infatuated with sucked and swallowed eagerly.

I was more bothered about her kissing and petting him than sucking him off. The small affections she displayed throughout the day, the way she laughed happily when he grabbed her and pulled her tight, groping her tight ass or breast.