by Ben Boswell
“Good morning Captain. Did you sleep well?”
He laughed. “Actually, I had watch last night. I dozed a little, but the bridge isn’t the most comfortable place on the boat.”
“Oh, I wish I’d known. I was awake half the night. I could have come up and kept you company.”
She said it completely casually, so I was sure he didn’t catch the hidden meaning. I did though and felt funny in the pants.
“So what adventures are on the schedule today?” she continued.
If you only knew Captain.
“I was just telling your husband about snorkeling out here. Really a great spot. And then you can either picnic and relax on the beach or we can cruise a bit. It’s supposed to be a glorious afternoon, and I thought you might enjoy seeing what this boat can really do when we have all the sails out.”
“Oh, I love new experiences,” she cooed.
He smiled. “I’ll let Thom know you’re up so he can bring you breakfast.”
She sat down opposite me.
“Are you planning on speaking in double entendres all day?”
“I guess we’ll see what comes up.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Maybe I need to be lashed,” she replied, eyes twinkling. “What is it they used to say about the Royal Navy traditions?”
Nothing but rum, buggery, and the lash. I was sure Captain Wallace would supply her with all three if asked.
Thom’s appearance mercifully cut short the conversation before it really got out of hand. Jennifer broke with me, ordering a mimosa and a continental breakfast, which she proceeded to consume with a self-satisfied, little grin on her face.
***
Reg wasn’t lying. It was glorious. Denny ferried us out the few hundred meters to the reef and helped us adjust our masks and snorkels. Then we dropped into the warm, clear water.
As transparent as the water seemed from the boat, once we got our heads beneath the surface, it was like being in a whole other world. I don’t know a trout from a tuna, so I don’t even know what I was looking at, but it was beautiful, exhilarating. Bright colors, pulsing, shifting shapes, schools of fish darting one way then another, a veritable natural kaleidoscope.
Jennifer and I were swimming together, but when your head is underwater and looking down, you’re always a little on your own. And then I caught sight of her off to my right. She’d dived down to get a closer look at a bulbous, orange coral. She hung there, shimmering in the refracted sunlight, her long, blond, ponytail trailing behind her, looking so graceful, so beautiful, a water nymph at play.
The water was so lovely that we ended up just swimming back to the boat. I let her climb up the ladder first, but as I looked up at her above me I got a shock. Her snug, but not overly skimpy, white bikini had turned translucent.
From where I was I could see the crack of her ass, and through her legs I thought I caught a little tease of vag.
“Uh, Jennifer,” I hissed urgently.
She looked back down at me. I gestured with my hands. “Your suit.”
She gave me an amused grin and then continued on her way. She knew.
It wasn’t until I got up on deck with her that I realized the full extent of it. Her suit wasn’t translucent, letting through just dark and light, it was almost completely transparent. It wasn’t that I could just see the outlines of her nipples, I could see they were raspberry red, surrounded by paler, pink areolas. Also visible was that she was a natural blonde; that she kept her public hair trimmed close.
Denny, who’d helped her out of the water, didn’t know where to look. I felt bad for the kid. He tried to hand my wife a towel, but she refused it.
“I think I’ll just air dry,” she chimed.
He was too shook up to offer me a towel until I walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. He gave me an apologetic grimace. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Jennifer made a beeline for the ladder to the bridge. Denny had been collateral damage. I knew for whom she really wanted to show off.
Captain Wallace managed to keep a better poker face than his young nephew, but it was obvious he liked what he saw as well, especially when Jennifer sat down in the swivel seat beside him and turned in his direction. Normally there would have been nothing to it, but slouching casually, her thighs a few inches apart, I knew she was giving him quite a view. Edging behind him, I confirmed my suspicion. She was completely exposed, her pussy not just outlined in the wet fabric, but actually visible through the sheer material.
They both were remarkably cool about it, a particularly impressive feat for Reg who knew that I knew what he was seeing. But if he was tempted to look away, he didn’t show it in his body language, which remained cool and relaxed even as he continued to face my wife.
“Jeremy? Jeremy? What do you think?”
“Huh?”
Jennifer grinned at me. “Captain Wallace—”
“Please call me Reg,” he interrupted.
“Oh, I don’t know. This is your ship after all. But, okay…. Reg was asking whether we wanted to spend the afternoon ashore or sailing. I thought it would be more fun to see what this ship could do in the hands of its capable crew. You do want to see how they, uh, handle things, don’t you?”
Reg looked up at me. Was that a knowing glimmer in his eye? I felt my cheeks begin to burn even though I knew it couldn’t be. At most, he’d think that Jennifer was a cocktease. He couldn’t possibly realize, yet, that she was really going to put out. Still, it occurred to me that the hardest part of this wasn’t going to be watching the sex, which I knew would be hot, but being around this man afterwards, after he’d had my woman.
Jennifer was still staring at me. “Um, whatever you want, honey,” I muttered.
“Sailing it is,” she replied. “Captain, show us what you can do. I’m going to go on deck and lie in the sun.”
Once she climbed out onto the forward deck and sprawled out, it got even more awkward being beside Reg. Not that he was doing anything other than steering the boat and calling out instructions to Denny over the radio. I was the one who was nonplussed. He was, what, plussed? Is that a word? No. Unperturbed, then.
It provoked a weird thought. Had he been expecting something like this? Had he seen something in her, or maybe in the two of us, that led him to believe that before this trip was over he’d have her. A crazy thought. A drink, that’s what I needed. A drink and to change out of my wet trunks.
I excused myself and went down to our cabin to change and then went looking for Thom and a nice cold beer.
***
Changing was easy, finding Thom turned out to be more complicated. I ventured further forward into the crew section. It was not as nice as the passenger part of the boat. Everything was much simpler and functional and relatively cramped, although as I walked past I noticed the captain had a small private cabin, while Thom and Denny seemed to be sharing a more narrow space with a bunk bed.
I peeked into the galley, which was surprisingly Spartan, though there was a small portal that let in sunlight and probably helped to vent cooking smells. There was a narrow fridge, two induction cooktops, and a tiny convection oven. I was even more impressed with Thom’s culinary skills. In a real restaurant kitchen, he could probably produce wonders. I finally found him wedged into a tiny pantry, taking inventory.
I cleared my throat. “Um, I was hoping you might have a beer down here.”
He smiled. “You could have had Reg call me.”
I nodded. “I sort of wanted to explore.”
“It’s not bad up here,” he said as he pulled out a beer. “Kalik? I also have some Heineken and, I think, some Guiness.”
“Is Kalik the local beer?”
He nodded. “It’s nothing special, but nice for drinking in the sun.”
“Exactly what I was looking for.”
He pulled out a chilled glass. “I can bring this to you up top.”
“You look busy, I can carry it myself.”
&nbs
p; “Okay, but you’re not going to take it out of my tip, are you?” he asked with a grin.
“No worries. I’m about ready to offer you a full-time job cooking for us back home.”
He laughed. “No way, mon,” he replied with an exaggerated accent. “Da islands are ma ‘ome.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t leave either.”
He poured carefully, making sure the head was just right. Through the open portal I could hear Reg making final preparations with Denny for the afternoon sail.
Then I heard Jennifer’s lilting voice. “Oh Captain, would you mind helping me with my back? I don’t want to get sunburned.”
I could tell Thom had heard, though he pretended not to. Again I wondered what the crew thought of us. But I had no time to really contemplate that. I needed to get up top and see what my wife was up to.
It was actually an innocent scene if, you know, the sight of a large, black man rubbing suntan lotion of your blond wife’s back strikes you as innocent. Jennifer had untied her bikini top, presumably to avoid tan lines, but as she lifted her head to speak to Reg, she was perilously close to giving him a flash of nipple. He was definitely already getting an eyeful of side boob. None of that probably mattered since her suit was still largely transparent anyway. I noticed him adjust himself in his shorts. She was having the desired effect.
He startled a little when he saw me. Then he smiled. “Ah, your husband is back. He can take over.”
“No,” she replied quickly. “You’re doing it better than he does. He’s always in a rush to finish.” She paused, letting that sink in. I rolled my eyes at her. She playfully stuck her tongue out at me. “And anyway, no need for you both to get your hands all gooey.”
Reg hesitated, but when I didn’t seem to object, he resumed massaging the suntan lotion into her smooth skin. His dark hand looked huge as it pressed against her slender, curved lower back.
She looked over her shoulder and reached back, a hand cupping her boob in a false gesture of modesty and edged down her bottoms, exposing the crack of her ass.
“I always burn right there,” she explained.
Reg grinned, obviously curious at her game, and willing to play along. He was a gentleman, though, taking what she was offering, but not trying to take advantage. It was reassuring. We were at sea, on his ship, and Denny and Thom would certainly back him if Reg wanted to teach this teasing slut a lesson. It would be so easy. A little pressure on her lower back to hold her in place, a flick of the wrist to tear off her lightweight bikini bottom, and she’d be his for the taking. I shivered in excitement at the thought of it, of Reg yanking off his shorts, freeing his fat cock, and taking her hard from behind, pounding her hard into her towel on the deck.
He didn’t do that, but what he did was almost as exciting, taking his time as he diligently dripped some additional lotion on her lower back and slowly spread it around, his fingertips pressing into the top of her curved ass, dipping into her crack.
“That feels nice,” she cooed as he finished up her back. Could you get the back of my legs too?”
“Of course,” he said.
A little more lotion on his palms, and he began to firmly massage from her hamstrings to the bottom of her ass. His hands were big enough that they almost seemed to envelop her legs, his thumb riding up her inner thigh, closer, closer until her could probably feel the heat coming from her surely wet snatch. He paused there for a moment, and I could see his thumb making small circles on the sensitive, intimate flesh of her thigh.
He smiled at me and after another moment, he released her. “All done,” he chimed.
“Thank you,” she said, again craning her neck, again giving him a great view of her cleavage between her bare breasts.
“My pleasure,” he replied, remaining poised above her.
Before she could ratchet up the tension further, Denny called out from up front, “All ready captain.”
Reg stood. “You may want to stow your possessions. It’ll be a bit windy once we get moving.”
He headed toward the bridge and I approached my wife.
“You know,” I began, “I’m not sure I could hold him off if he decided try something.”
“What makes you think I’d want you to?” she replied, eyes flashing.
“I just mean, we might not be able to control it.”
“Hmm, you mean I might have no choice but to submit completely to all of his filthy desires? Now you’re really getting me hot.”
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” she replied, suddenly serious. “But actually, he seems quite trustworthy. Don’t you think?”
I shrugged.
“No, seriously, Jeremy, if you have doubts let me know. If you think I’m wrong...”
I hesitated. Could we trust him to stop if we asked him to? I wasn’t sure. He was a powerful man, in his own element, and once things got going, it would get primal, hard to control. And yet, he wasn’t a thug. He was a gentleman, had shown perhaps more restraint that I could have given Jennifer’s provocations.
“No, I think you’re right. Not that he’d be biddable—”
“But we wouldn’t want that anyway, would we?” she asked.
No. She was right. We… I didn’t want him to be just a passive sex toy. Part of the fantasy was seeing her… getting taken by a powerful man… a powerful, black man.
She was looking at me questioningly. This was it. Go or no go. Her teasing had brought us so close to the line that we’d maybe already gone too far, that it was already inevitable that something would happen, that even without a formal invitation, Captain Wallace would take it upon himself to claim what had been so clearly offered.
“I think he’s safe,” I said finally, the most anodyne way of giving my ultimate consent.
Reg’s voice coming from the bridge startled me. “Alright, here we go, things are going to get exciting.”
It was almost as if he’d been listening in, but then I realized he was talking about the ship. A few adjustments to the rigging, and suddenly the gentle breeze that had been cooling us on deck fully filled the sails. The yacht surged suddenly, an acceleration I’d never known was possible on a sailboat.
Jennifer hurriedly retied her bikini top, and we retreated to loungers wedged up just forward of the bridge. From there we could hear Reg calling out orders to the Denny and Thom, who had also come up top to help handle the boat at speed. His tone was crisp, professional, and the results amazing.
As we sped up, the boat sliced through the swells, curls of churning water kicked up by the bow releasing a rain of spray across the hull. The boat began to lean, lower, lower toward the water, more like an America’s Cup competitor than a luxury yacht. It was thrilling and terrifying. I looked at my wife. Her eyes were shining with excitement as she looked from the waves to the sails and back up to our handsome captain coordinating it all. It occurred to me that piloting a high-end sailboat at top speed was as effective a panty dropper as playing a musical instrument.
***
After a couple of hours of electrifying sailing, Reg adjusted course, allowing the sails to slacken, and the boat to slow. We dropped back to a gentle cruise, and Thom soon appeared with afternoon margaritas for us to enjoy as Reg maneuvered us to provide the beautiful sunset over a small, thin, island speckled with palms.
Captain Wallace joined us after a few minutes.
“Did you enjoy that?”
Jennifer nodded. I replied, “yeah, that was amazing.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. A lot of our customers are… well… older and just as happy to motor from point to point. But I thought you might like to see what the boat can do.”
“How’d you learn to sail like that?” I asked.
“My father—”
“How about we save that story for dinner?” Jennifer interrupted. “We’re almost half-way through the cruise. Shouldn’t we get an invitation to the Captain’s table?”
He laughed. “I’m afraid tha
t Thom, Denny, and I share a small nook in the galley.”
“Well, then you’ll have to join us for dinner,” she continued. Then looking at me, “Right Jeremy?”
I nodded. “Of course. Would you dine with us? We’d both love to hear more about how you came to captain this ship.”
“Join us at six?” Jennifer continued. “Thom always whips up these delightful cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”
He hesitated. I could see him trying to balance his temptation with his sense of professional obligation.
“We’d be honored,” I added reassuringly.
He nodded. “I’d be delighted. I’ll attend to the boat and then join you in your salon at six.”
“Wonderful,” Jennifer replied.
Chapter Six
We finished our margaritas and retired to the stateroom. I glanced at my watch. It was already five. There was barely enough time to shower and change before dinner. I was desperate to ask Jennifer about her plans, and yet I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Seeing her execute the final seduction would be more exciting if I was in the dark as well.
She cleared her throat and I turned in her direction. She’d stripped completely naked and stood regarding me frankly. She didn’t say anything, and yet I read a message in her posture. Take a good look mister. Before long another man will be enjoying this.
“Not planning to dress for dinner?” I asked.
She strode up to me and confidently grasped my rapidly hardening package.
“Oh, don’t worry, I have a great outfit picked out. I was just wondering if you wanted anything before… you know.”
She cupped a boob and casually tweaked her erect nipple.
“Why? Are you feeling randy?”
I reached out and traced a line between her breasts, down toward her belly.
“Mmm hmm, I am,” she cooed. She took my hand and pulled it lower, my fingertips trailing through her downy muff until I felt her sensitive sex, swollen and already wet.
“But,” she continued, “it’s not about me. I’m sure I’ll be well taken care of tonight. I’m just worried about you… sitting there… watching… seeing another man making me his own….”
