Bareboaters – Part 3 {Jim Dogget} (MFF Rom)

Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction which contains explicit sex.  If it is illegal for you to be reading this, then don’t read it.  It may be posted to any free site, but an acknowledgment sent to the author by email is appreciated.  It may not be posted to any pay site.  This work is copyrighted by jim_dogget@hotmail.com.  The story should never be separated from this message. 


BAREBOATERS 
A Jim and Mary Story

CHAPTER 3

The next morning the boat was a quiet and subdued place.  Isobel did not stir from her bunk. Mary was very quiet and pensive and Jim was in shock. Sometimes events take on a life of their own and control passes from the participants to the events themselves.  To Jim that was what seemed to have happened the previous night.  Not that he felt he had anything to complain about with the way things had turned out. He had enjoyed it.  But he certainly hadn’t been in control and the evening’s escapade was wildly out of character for both for both him and Mary.  He wasn’t sure about Isobel.  There were things in Isobel’s volatile personality, occasional fits of bad temper and capacity for excess that were likely to set in motion chains of events over which nobody would have control.

So now the big question was what was going to happen to the rest of the vacation. The three of them were trapped with the consequences of their actions in the small circumscribed world of a 35 foot boat. 

Would he and Mary fall out over what had happened last night?  And, more worrying still, would it change their relationship, which after many years of marriage was still getting stronger and stronger? Had a third person entered the sexual part of their marriage, and if so what were they going to do about it?  Jim thought that unless they were very careful this could be a very real threat to their happiness.  And he didn’t want their frolic with a drunk to spoil what he realized more than ever was a powerful and precious bond.

Mary wasn’t saying much.  She had climbed out of their bunk this morning without a word and made some tea.  The morning cup of tea was a ritual for them, a few minutes of shared pleasure as they opened their eyes and gathered themselves for the day. On days when they had made love the night before this was an especially warm and close moment.  This morning Mary had wordlessly taken her cup and gone and sat on the foredeck.  Jim had peered over the coach roof and had seen her sitting there staring at the water with her arms clasped about her knees. 

Isobel struggled from her bunk. He thought she looked like shit.

“I feel like shit,” she said. “Is that coffee?”

“Tea.”

“I don’t like tea.”

Jim sighed.

“I’ll make some coffee.”

She was a long time in the head, but when she came out she looked better, face washed but pale, and he had the coffee ready.

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got a hell of a fat lip. You OK?” he asked quietly.

“I guess,” she said sullenly, and stumped up into the cockpit.

“What a fucking mess,” Jim muttered to himself, and busied himself getting the boat shipshape.  On deck the women sat at opposite ends of the boat and kept out of his way.  He got the engine started, pulled up the anchor and headed the boat out of the bay without any help from either of them.

He set course for Chatham Bay in the Grenadines.  It was their favorite anchorage from previous trips.  A broad generous bay, good shelter from the trade winds, rarely more than one or two other boats, no houses and, if you were careful to make sure it was set properly, reasonable holding for the anchor. Mary and he had once made spectacular love under the stars one night in Chatham Bay, out there on the foredeck, where Mary now sat silently with her thoughts.

The crossing was quite rough once they were out of the lee of Carriacou and Mary came back to the cockpit and then went below to lie down.  Jim could see her lying on the settee reading a book.  Isobel didn’t stay much longer on deck either and disappeared into her berth, while Jim tended the boat.

The trades blow from the east and funnel through the channel between the northern end of  Grenada and the south side of Union Island.  Jim sat alone at the helm as the boat breasted the big rollers, occasional seas breaking over the foredeck and spattering him with a hail of salty water.  The sails were taut, and drumming in the wind. Foaming water sped along the sides of the boat.  On any other day this would have been a joyous gallop of a sail, but Jim was overtaken by the glum atmosphere on the boat, and his feelings of helplessness.  He honestly didn’t know what he could do or say that would restore the carefree pleasures of their sailing holiday. Its character had been decisively changed by the events of the previous evening. In fact, he didn’t know if, when the women re-emerged from below, there would even be any more sailing holiday.

The chores of navigation, sail trim, and steering kept him busy for some hours, but couldn’t entirely prevent his mind from dwelling on their situation. At last, at about four in the afternoon, they glided into the calm waters of Chatham Bay and headed up towards the sheltered anchorage at the north end.  Jim furled the fore sail, luffed up into the wind, dropped the main and scrambled to the bow to drop the anchor.  He watched for a patch of sandy bottom where he could let it go, avoiding the large patches of grass that covered the bottom of the bay. As the anchor cable payed out he looked around to gauge their position.  They were about three hundred yards from the shore; there were no other boats in the bay, and so there was no worry about colliding with another boat if the anchor dragged. In any case, in the shelter of the confining hills, there was little wind and he was not too worried, although it would be nice to swim over the anchor and make sure it was well embedded.

He was surprised to find Mary and Isobel sitting in the cockpit together.  He dropped onto the opposite cockpit seat and stared at them. They were both smiling broad smiles at him and Isobel was holding out a drink to him.  He didn’t move.  This was not the unpleasant scene he had been conjuring up in his mind all day.  He looked at first one and then the other, bewildered, his jaw slack.

“Take the fucking drink,” said Isobel laughing, and thrusting it towards him.

Mary bent over, giggling.

Jim ignored the drink.  He had a headache from a long day in the hot sun, most of it spent worrying, and he really didn’t see what was so funny. They just seemed to be making fun of him.

“I’m going to check the anchor,” he said, and they both hooted with laughter. 

“Fuck the two of you,” he muttered angrily into his tee shirt as he pulled it over his head. 

He jammed the goggles and snorkel on and swam out to check the anchor.  The water was cool and soothing as he followed the path of the white rope along the bottom to a big patch of sand where the anchor was nicely dug in.  He swam back to the stern of the boat. The swim ladder had been pulled up and there was no way back onto the boat. Isobel and Mary were leaning over the stern. He trod water and looked up at them. Mary was in the blue swim suit and was laughing down at him.  The suit was unzipped nearly to the navel.  Isobel was in a clean tee shirt that looked a lot better than the bloodied one from last night. She was laughing too and still holding out his drink.

“You’re too grumpy to get on the boat,” said Mary. “You’ve got to cheer up.”

“I’m not grumpy” he said. “Anyway neither of you have said a word all day, so why should I be the life and soul of the party?”

Mary and Isobel looked at each other in mock shock and burst out laughing again.

“But we’ve been talking most of the day.  Just because you wouldn’t have anything to do with us, doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves”

He was puzzled

“But after last night?”

“Ah, yes,” said Mary. “Last night. We talked about that.”

Isobel sniggered and covered her eyes with her free hand.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

More laughter from the two of them.

“Well, shit!” he said, sounding angry, although really his spirits were beginning to lift, buoyed by the infectious good humor coming from the deck above him.

“I thought you were both upset.”

“We were.”

“Well, then?”

“We’re women, not men.  We talk about stuff, you idiot,” said Mary.

“So it’s all OK?”

“No, of course it’s not.  We need to talk to you.”

“Well, let me aboard then.”

“No!”

“I’m going to drown out here.”

“Then we probably don’t need to talk to you after all.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be stupid.  What do you want to talk about?

“Us.”

“Oh, shit” he thought.  For a man ‘us’ is a dreaded topic of conversation and Jim was no exception to the rule.

“Can’t we talk about ‘us’ when we’re alone?”

“Not us, you and me, silly.  Us.  Us. The three of us.”

“Oh.” Jim was confused, but relieved. “OK, but I’m not exactly sure what there is to discuss.  What happened, happened.”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s very profound, but I’d hoped we were going to get a bit further than that.”

“OK, I’ll listen.”

Mary turned to Isobel “That’s what men always do, isn’t it.  They’re afraid to really talk about stuff.” She turned back to Jim, who was sinking a little lower in the water and feeling his balls retracting into his stomach.

“We’re going to have a conversation and you are going to participate in it.  Not just listen.”

“Never happened before,” thought, Jim thinking back to some of the other one-sided conversations that had peppered their marriage.

“Come on, Jim,” said Isobel, “We’ve got things we need to talk about.”

“Especially if we’re not going to ruin the holiday,” added Mary

“Go ahead.”

Isobel said, “Listen, I’m really sorry about last night.  I got carried away by what was going on and made a fool of myself.”

“No, really you didn’t.  I’m just afraid you must think we took advantage of you.”

“I think I tried to get you to take advantage of me and you wouldn’t.”

Jim was silent.

Mary said, “But we won’t let it happen again.”

“Won’t let what happen again?”

“Not taking advantage of me,” interjected Isobel, suddenly.

Mary laughed at her choice of words.

“I don’t know what you two have spent the day talking about, but you’d better explain it to me because I’m getting more and more confused.”

“Well,” said Mary. “Isobel and I decided that we both enjoyed what happened last night, even if we shouldn’t have.  And I never saw any sign that you didn’t enjoy it either.

“Well, I did enjoy it.  But Isobel was drunk.”  He looked at Isobel. “Do you even remember what happened?”

“I may have been drunk but I remember every minute of it, and I wish we hadn’t stopped.”

“We’re on the boat for another four days,” said Mary, “and we’re grown up and we can’t pretend that we didn’t all have sex in front of each other.”

“One way or another,” said Jim.

“So let’s have four days of fun.”

“When I’m not too pissed to enjoy it,” put in Mary.

“And then?”

“When the charter’s over, it’s all over.”

“All over?”

“When the charter’s over, it’s just you and me sweetheart.  The funny business will be over for good, but we’ll never forget the holiday.”

Jim turned over on his back and swam away from them.

“Are you guys for real?”

“Try us,” said Mary.

Isobel picked up the hem of her tee shirt and pulled it up to her neck, while Mary scooped her breasts out of the front of the blue swimsuit.  Jim stared at the four breasts, two big, two small, all shaking as the two women giggled at him.

“Can I get back on the boat then?  My balls are aching with the cold.”

“Only if you’re going to play,” answered Isobel.

“By the end of the charter they’ll still be aching and it won’t be from the cold,” laughed Mary.  “Come on dear, we’ll put the ladder down.”

Jim climbed the ladder, his soggy swimming shorts cooling any incipient excitement he might have enjoyed. He was disappointed to find that the guard of honor that greeted him as he stepped onto the deck had re-arranged their clothing and had covered up what had so recently been flaunted. But this time he did accept the drink that Isobel offered him.

He burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe this is what you decided,” he said to Mary.

“I can’t either, but I’m not going to stop and think about.  If we don’t get down to it soon we’ll all get cold feet and it won’t happen and we’ll have a very frustrating vacation.”

“That’s what I’m already having,” said Isobel.

“Come here, then,” said Jim, and held out his arms. Isobel put her arms round his waist and lay her head against his chest. He folded her into him.  She felt warm and small and he began to stir inside his wet shorts.

Mary stepped behind him and put her arms around them both, feeling to him much bulkier than the short stocky woman clinging to his front. Her cheek was against his shoulder.

“Now I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he answered.

“I ought to be, but I’m not,” said Isobel, and giggled into his chest.

She separated herself from the clinch and pulled Mary away from him.

“Come on!  In the water.  Let’s get clean for lover boy.”

She quickly stripped off her shirt and bikini pants and went to the swim ladder.  Mary didn’t move.

“Come on, Mary!” but Mary stood as if stuck in quick sand. “Come on if we’re going to do it.”

Mary allowed Isobel to unzip the blue suit and pull it off her shoulders. Her heavy breasts were freed as Isobel pulled the suit down, over her rounded belly and her womanly hips and let it drop at her feet. Isobel pulled her by the hand towards the ladder.

Mary suddenly seemed to come to life again.

“OK, I’m coming.” But she didn’t sound a hundred per cent convinced.

“Come on, or I’ll smack your butt like you smacked mine last night.”

“I hoped you’d forgotten.”

“I’d like to smack both your butts,” rejoined Jim.

Mary said, “You just try!”

“We’ll make mincemeat of you,” said Isobel. “Women are stronger than men. You’re no match for us.”

Mary was already climbing into the water but he took a swipe at Isobel as she turned to put her feet on the ladder, and gave her a slap on her buttock.

“Ouch. That’s abuse. You wait. I’ll get my own back.  Women never forget.”

Jim watched the two women in the water, their pale forms shimmering beneath the surface as they swam. Isobel swam away from him on her back, her hands lazily massaging her crotch as her legs flexed and straighten in the water carrying her further away from the boat.

“Whooooh.  Clean. See?” She waved her hand out of the water at him and sniffed her fingers. “Clean and delicious!”

Mary was cleaning herself more discreetly, but managed to smile and blow him a kiss.

He laughed and blew one back. He was waiting for them with towels as they climbed back on the boat.

“Don’t need a towel,” said Isobel. “I’m wet and I’m going to stay wet.”

Mary took hers anyway, wiped herself off and wrapped it round her waist, leaving her breasts bared.  Jim realized that she always wrapped towels under her armpits, covering herself, and that this was a departure for her, a sign of the new and adventurous Mary.

She put her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing against him, soft and warming.

“Have fun. I’m going below.”

“Aren’t you….?” His question trailed away to nothing.

She kissed him.

“No, I’m going below. I think it’s better if the two of you……..well, you know, get started. I’ll come back and see how you’re getting on.”

“But…..”

“Just do it!” she hissed

Mary was gone. 

Isobel was standing in front of him, short, chunky around the waist and hips, small breasts, legs spread and arms held above her head.  She shimmied towards him, eyes crinkling with laughter.

“Check me out.”

She reached for his hand and pulled it to her breast. It was wet and the nipple was hard. She dragged his hand down over her stomach into her thatch which was glinting with beads of salt water. She covered his hand with hers and pressed his fingers against her.  They slipped into the hot wet world of her sex. Just like that.  He was shocked at the speed with which it happened, the lack of preliminaries, of any sort of build up, of any pretense at a romantic progression from caresses to kisses to fondling. She just jammed his hand in her sex.

“You heard what Mary said, Jim, let’s do it.”

She released his hand, pulled his head to hers and gave him a warm and soft kiss on the mouth.   

“For God’s sake, Jim, do me.  I’m desperate.”

Jim moved his hand back down to her mound and gently rubbed the coarse wet curls of hair that covered it.  She pushed herself against his hand and his fingers slipped into the groove between her lips. Her vulva was wet and clinging but as his finger tips wormed their way deeper into her he found that the passage that led into her depths was slick and slippery.

She put her hand back over his, locking his fingers inside her and backed up until the backs of her knees touched the cockpit bench. She sank on to it.  He went down with her, dragged to his knees by the pull on his imprisoned hand.

“Now kiss me where I want to be kissed.” 

She lifted her knees and offered herself to him, pulling his head to the damp matt of hair at the join of her thighs. Jim stared at the pelt inches from his face.  There was a warm slightly musky smell. She pulled her legs apart.  Her pussy opened like a flower, the pigmented lips spreading open to reveal the pink inner flaps which guarded the entrance to her vagina. The opening winked involuntarily at him as she completed the movement.

Jim was dumbfounded.  He was about to bury his face in another woman’s snatch at his wife’s request, something unthinkable until 10 minutes ago. Grounds for divorce or even murder last week, and now she was the instigator.  What perplexed him really wasn’t Isobel’s sex winking at him, it was Mary and her change in attitude. He really didn’t understand how she squared this with anything that she had ever said before. He looked at Isobel’s vulva again. There was a little strand of clear mucus bridging the lips, dragged there by the withdrawal of his finger. 

He didn’t really understand the way women maneuvered through life.  There was nothing reliable, constant in their approach to life.  Men were men and did things the way they did things.  Women changed all the time and men were expected to somehow divine the shifting sands of the rulebook.

“For Christ sake, Jim, get on with it.”

That was Mary’s voice.  He turned his head and stared at his wife’s face, which was peering over the sill of the companionway.  She was laughing at him.  He was planning to say something to her, when his head was yanked forcibly back into Isobel’s crucible of tangled hair and slippery pink lips.

Jim very quickly forgot what it was he was going to say and enjoyed the sensations of warmth and wetness that his tongue and lips found in the crease of Isobel’s groin.  The taste was different to Mary’s, more acid and more pungent. Isobel groaned as he worked on her. Her juices flowed copiously and mixed with his saliva, the excess flowing into his beard and into the cleft of her buttocks.

“Oh, God.  He’s good.”

Jim smiled smugly into her flooding crotch, then heard Mary climbing back up the steps into the cockpit. He sensed her standing behind him, but he was now so absorbed in his exploration of Isobel that he couldn’t have stopped if he had wanted to. He felt hands on the sides of his head; Mary’s hands.  They pulled his face roughly away from Isobel’s warmth and wetness and he found himself smearing juices into Mary’s face as she kissed him passionately. 

“Now let’s get this done,” she said. “I can’t stand to watch any more.”

She stood him up, pulled his shorts down rapidly, not seeming to care that they snagged painfully on his very stiff erection. Mary reached round him and grasped Jim by the root.  She forced him to his knees and aimed the red tip of his penis at Isobel’s saliva smeared opening.  Isobel herself forcefully pulled her lips apart enlarging the size of the target. Mary put a knee to his buttocks and, with her small fist fiercely grasping the base of his penis, drove him into Isobel. Jim watched his cock disappear, heard Isobel gasp, and himself grunt as he was brought up short of full penetration by Mary’s encircling fist.  Mary let go and went back to kissing him on the mouth.

Jim’s cock was now free to bury itself up to the hilt and it did.  With help from Mary he established a rhythm, Mary’s body pressed against his back, the two of them moving as one as they pistoned his penis into Isobel.  Isobel had pulled her knees to her chest and was tightly gripping them as the concussions rocked her. There was nothing gentle, or subtle, or even kind about it.  It was an animal pounding, all of them gasping and grunting more or less in unison, all of them pushing hard for the climactic moment, all of them uncaring of the bruising impacts suffered by Isobel as Mary and Jim slammed their combined weight into her. 

It didn’t last long.  It couldn’t.

The end began when Isobel shrieked, her reddened and contorted face issuing the same howl that had rent the anchorage the night before. Her convulsing body shook on the end of Jim’s pounding penis and Jim would probably have stopped the drilling if it hadn’t been for Mary, who pushed the pace relentlessly, forcing Jim’s penis to continue it’s onslaught on Isobel’s spasming tunnel.

“Go on! Go on! Harder!” urged Mary.

Jim had now lost all any semblance of control and was now simply an instrument of Mary’s forcible thrusting, his bursting penis forcing it’s way along Isobel’s clinging walls, the motion and the intense force determined by Mary. Finally Jim knew it was over.

“Oh, Christ! I’m coming!”

Mary slammed him one last time into Isobel and held him there as his deeply buried organ spewed against the nub of Isobel’s cervix. All three of them, the two women and the man, shook reflexively in the aftermath of the orgasms. Aftershocks from Isobel clutched at the soaking member inside her, Jim shook from the sudden release, and Mary suffered her own paroxysmic seizures in her lower belly. 

The three of them held on to each other for dear life, glued together by passion, sweat and semen. It was a while before anybody in the huddled tableau moved.  

Eventually Mary peeled herself from Jim’s sweat soaked back.

“Now we can really start our vacation,” said Mary.

Jim  laughed. Isobel was silent.


(C)  Jim Dogget
September 2003

Thanks for reading. Do let me know what you thought of it. jim_dogget@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/jim_dogget




