Sweet Christine, a Sexual Voyage
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2018 by storyace

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Rescued at sea by Sweet Christine, a grizzled old sailor is pulled into the whirlpool of first mate Heather's hot desire and captain Mike's reluctance as the small boat sails across the vast Pacific, leaking her secrets.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   Sharing  

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.

I shifted my weight to one side to free my left hand for caressing her with. We kissed and touched for some time, her hand teasing my cock, fingers tickling or squeezing, the tension and desire building, the passion intensifying, until we both had to take the final step.

She held me against her wet vagina as I pressed it into her, sliding about half way in before pulling back; and then in all the way.

Ah, that first sweet hot wet penetration. The electrifying thrill of conquest, acceptance, sex. Our organs emitting wild sensations, hormones, and pleasure.

As before though, it was her smile that excited me most; her smile of pleasure as she experienced penetration, the smile of a beautiful woman who wanted me, wanted to share herself, host my experienced old penis inside her most sensitive, intimate cavity.

Sex is good; sometimes it’s great. At the least, it’s great fun and satisfaction. But the human mind is an emotion machine, and fucking triggers all sorts of complexities.

Both her hands rested on my wide shoulders, she hummed happily, grinned, and her eyes looked up at me brightly.

“That feels so nice!” she whispered. “Stay still for a moment, just lie on top.”

Her hands caressed my ass and back as my penis pulsed eagerly deep inside her strong little body. I held her face and kissed her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks. Her vagina held my cock in a sweet wet embrace, acceptance, sex, love, mutual pleasure.

Yet in the midst of the ecstasy of sex with this woman I wanted so much, there was a nagging doubt. My emotions for her were too strong, my need too great.

Heather was a nice woman, good looking, funny, smart. She was 20 years younger than I was.

So why was she so eager to couple with me? Because I was there. Just a random guy pulled from the sea, disposable, dependant.

Her vagina tightened around my cock, clamping me tight. I looked down at her in surprise and she grinned back.

“Did I tell you I’ve been practicing yoga for 20 years?” she said casually, “I’m as flexible as a rubber band, and as tight. Do you like that?”

“Yes I do.” I said sincerely.

“Go on then.” She said, her hands on my hips signaling her desire for me to rise and push, to slide my big old rod in and out of her.

I grabbed her shoulders as I rammed her, she held my ribs and held the pressure against my cock.

I’ve been with a lot of women in my time. Some had been good lovers, some not. But no one had a snatch like heather. It took some effort to push it into her despite being well lubricated; it was like a contest, my stiffness against her tension. And it was amazing.

It did something for her too, the hot little woman began to come after a minute. She groaned in that sweet way women do, her blood pressure increasing, her face reddening, until that moment of ultimate triumph when she was overcome by orgasm while my stiff penis continued to pump her, sliding in and out, such a normal thing, just fucking, sex. Yet it’s never really normal.

We were damp with sweat, the cabin had little ventilation with the closed door. I allowed her to roll us over so she was on top.

I relaxed myself as she heaved up and down, her hair as kinky as her mind, bouncing around her ears. She laced her fingers in mine and looked down at me as she did her thing.

I was nearly in love with her before. Now I was falling, swimming in the dangerous emotional soup of dependant attachment.

I was quite aware that for Heather, I was just entertainment. An aging refugee she’d pulled from the sea, a washed out wash up. I had nothing to offer her beyond a little fun, a lot of which was probably about pissing off Mike. Even as I wallowed in the intense physical and emotional excitement of sex with her, I was aware of my worth, or rather, the lack of it. At this moment, in the middle of the Java sea, I was one of two men.

Mike wouldn’t fuck her, and Heather was clearly a woman who enjoyed fucking. She was a fucking champion. A day she didn’t fuck was a wasted day.

When we reached land, I’d be worthless. Alive, healthy, broke, and worthless. That was still a lot better than drowning.

I pushed those doubts and distractions from my mind, and focused on the delicious moment. My cock was filled with power, my heart with passion. I was alive, and making love with a wild sexy woman.

Her small body was strong, her cunt as tight as a teenager’s. Her ass was two lovely little half globes, her belly flat, and her tits firm.

All of those things were nice, but it was her smile that was killing me. Her gleaming dark eyes staring down at me as she reached another climax.

She rested for a moment, as we just looked at each other in silence, smiling, touching, a dribble of her fluid rolling down the inside of my thigh. Then she started again, she bucked back and forth frantically, moaning and gasping with pleasure as she rode me. Her nipples stood out like weapons, about to penetrate my chest and pierce my heart.

She was strong; she bucked, heaved, rotated. Her tough juicy body was made for love, and love making.

She stopped, panting, my cock straight up inside her.

And then she spoke.

That voice of hers, the only thread of hope I’d had during my 2 days adrift. Every hour I’d switch on my little radio and click the mike a few times, then speak my call sign to let her know I was still alive, still waiting for her. And she’d talk to me. “We’re coming, we’re going to find you.” She’d say. “Your signal is strong, we must be close.”

59 minutes of nothingness, silence as my little plastic life raft drifted in the emptiness. Then, on the hour, 10 precious seconds of hope; her sweet voice was life.

But they had no direction finder, and I had no GPS. It was luck and their perseverance that saved me. Mike patiently and diligently marking signal strength against course and drift, zigzagging closer, they searched for me, they found me, and here I was with my salty cock inside her.

“You haven’t come, have you?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I confirmed.

“It feels like I’m sitting on a fencepost.” She sighed, moving her ass just slightly, “God, you must think I’m a total slag.”

“I think you’re lovely.” I contradicted her.

“When I agreed to this journey, I assumed Mike was going to be my lover.” She told me, “I knew he was married but I thought they were separated, the way he flirted with me and all that. Then I find myself in the middle of the bloody ocean with this hot guy who doesn’t want to do it with me. So since you climbed aboard I’ve been waiting for this.”

The sweat was slowly evaporating and her breathing was returning to normal. She continued her subtle hip movements, just keeping everything lubricated and exited at our point of union.

Wet, tight, perfection. I wondered if we could just stay this way all day.

“So you’re saying he lured you aboard with false promises?” I asked.

“No, no I can’t say that.” She said, “He needed someone to crew and he asked me if I wanted to come along. Maybe he was being suggestive, or maybe I simply misunderstood. Anyway, here we are and it’s lovely to have you aboard!”

“It’s lovely to be aboard.” I countered. “Shall I give you that seeing to now?”

“Oh yes please!” she laughed brightly.

So I lifted her and flipped us both over, so she was on her back again and I was on top. Then, I fucked her.

Alive, I was very alive! I was fed, rested, hydrated, and my cock was a fencepost ramming in and out of my sexy little rescuer. I should have been dead, and instead I had her pretty face between my hands and my cock up her middle. I kissed her tenderly as my hips thrusted against her, and she was coming again within a couple of minutes.

“Now.” She whispered, “Go on, let me have it.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. She’d been doing most of the work and I was just getting started.

“Go on!” she insisted, so I tightened that place in there that does the trick, and I think she was coming a third time as I let it loose.

I ejaculated into a woman for the first time in months, it was so intense that it was like the first time in years. My body convulsed in hard passionate orgasm, my sweaty balls released everything I had into her, and I kissed her perfectly curved lips, holding her dark curls in my hands.

Heather moaned, sighed, and rocked me as my spasms finally subsided.

If Mike threw me overboard for this, I’d understand. And I wouldn’t regret doing it.

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