‘We?’ I barely had time to utter it before she began to smother me with kisses, while reaching around to grab my butt in her strong little hands.
Because her restaurant provided room service, it was natural that Becky would be familiar with the standard layout of rooms in the hotel. So I was delighted, but not surprised, that she was able to navigate us toward the bed without even having to watch where she was going.
‘Just because that bottle’s sealed, it doesn’t mean everything around here has to stay under wraps,’ she breathed in my ear. An instant later, I felt her reach for my zipper, and I reciprocated by teasing hers out of its home in the nook of her sexy trousers. We wiggled the clothing down each other’s legs with semi-graceful synchronization, engaging in an eager dance of undressing.
The dance continued as Becky lifted my cock out of my shorts, and I stroked the moist black cotton between her legs.
‘I can’t wait,’ she chirped, rushing to slide her own panties down while my prick stayed in a holding pattern. Then she sank into the bed, giggling becomingly and spreading her nicely-toned thighs so that I could see her soft blonde curls and her glistening wetness. Her blouse was still buttoned; nevertheless, as I pounced on her I felt the warmth of her breasts, reaching me through bra and blouse and my own shirt.
Her sensuous wiggling beckoned my face down to her center of pleasure. I kissed and licked at her sweetness, and she squealed and pressed herself against my mouth. Despite the sturdy vigour of her personality, she felt delicate down here – and she tasted, indeed, like a delicacy.
Becky was ready to be brought to ecstasy, and it was no challenge to do so. Her muscular legs kicked beautifully as she climaxed.
‘You certainly know how to get things flowing,’ she purred, lifting my head. ‘Now, how about we put a cork in it for a while?’
She guided my cock into her vessel, and I felt the warmth of her love-vintage bathing and caressing me.
Friendly little kisses and nibbles – signs of a healthy appetite – pampered my neck and ears while we bounced together. All too soon, I felt myself spilling into her, and she clutched me tightly and whispered my name.
‘Oh, Becky…’ I answered.
She guffawed, and hugged me even tighter. ‘It’s Betsy.’
She rolled me over, and straddled me like a woman who knows exactly what she wants to get out of her dinner break. Then she proceeded to show me, in no uncertain terms, that she wouldn’t dream of holding an innocent mistake against me.
With my prick in the spirited embrace of Betsy’s powerful cunt, my mind rolled hither and yon in ecstasy, and random thoughts about the evening began to flash by. Charles had been right about taking the wine upstairs, said one random thought. And he’d been right that I was in good hands, said another.
By now, Betsy was fucking me with a positively athletic exuberance, and leading us rapidly toward a joint climax. As our bodies vibrated together, I heard something crackle from behind my shoulders. Styrofoam. Oops.
Charles had been right again. I was making out on the leftovers!
Buccaneering Blarney
by Jim Baker
I was sipping a coffee at the Phuket Yacht Club when the Marie-Anne sailed in. Everything about her breathed class and money.
I’m not keen on boats, but the idea of taking a trip on this one had a lot of appeal. Especially in the company of a well hung, handsome man.
Little did I know …
Three days later, I was in my bikini, soaking up the sun on the private beach of Le Meridien Hotel. It was the tenth day of my three-week break in Thailand. I’d fled from the cold of the English winter.
I’d been dancing for six months in a London West End musical. It was a minor role, but the money wasn’t bad. I’d been offered a part in a new production, but rehearsals weren’t starting until May. My actor boyfriend Mark had gone to Africa on location for six months, so I’d taken a trip to Thailand.
The sun beat down. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to our last night together.
We made love three times, and he used his fingers, tongue, and cock to make me come five times. When I woke in the morning, he was doing push-ups by the side of the bed, naked.
‘Show-off,’ I said, and he bounced to his feet.
‘Cheeky.’
He’d jumped on to the bed and wrapped a powerful arm around me. I shrieked as he tickled his fingers up and down my ribs. He flipped me across his knees and tickled the backs of my thighs until I begged him to stop.
‘How about if I tickle you here?’ He worked his fingers between my legs and up into the red curly hair.
I groaned as he stroked a fingertip back and forth across my clit. He kept it up until I was squirming on his knees, then rolled me over and slid his long, hard cock up inside me.
I was sliding my fingers under the waistband of my bikini when a voice jerked me out of my reverie.
‘Good morning. I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
I snatched my hand back and opened my eyes. A tall, distinguished-looking man was smiling down at me.
‘No, that’s all right. How can I help you?’
I hoped the wet spot between my legs wasn’t too obvious, but he didn’t seem to notice. His hair was tinged with grey, his face was deeply tanned, and his eyes were blue and sharp. He held out a hand and I took it automatically. Rainbows flashed in the diamonds in two gold rings.
‘Hello, Sarah. I’m Stuart Northby. I saw you at the Yacht Club when I sailed in, and I’ve noticed you here every day since, on your own.’
‘How did you know my name’s Sarah?’
‘Twenty dollars is a lot of money for a bell-boy in Thailand.’
I laughed. ‘So, Stuart, what can I do for you that’s worth twenty dollars?’
‘Forgive me for saying so, but you seem to be a little lonely.’
He was right. I had been to Thailand before, and the novelty had worn off quickly. The Meridien had been a mistake – it was a superb hotel, but it catered almost exclusively for families and middle-aged couples.
Sadly, my fantasy of sex on the beach in the moonlight with a sun-bronzed Apollo had not materialized.
Mark and I had discussed our situation in bed, on the afternoon of the day he’d left.
‘Look, sweetheart,’ he’d said. ‘I’m going to be away for six months. Most of the time, it’ll be on location with a lot of people, including some sexy girls. You’re going to be working with about a hundred people on the new show, and you’re going to meet some good-looking blokes.’
‘And?’
‘And we both like it far too much to go without it for six months.’
‘And?’
‘And so let’s see what happens. I’m very fond of you, Sarah, but I’m not ready for a commitment and I’m pretty sure you’re not, either. So we keep in touch, but with no conditions either way, okay?’
He was right. I wanted to live day by day, without making plans for the future. I kissed him, and walked my fingers down his stomach.
‘Okay. Now what sort of touch did you have in mind?’
‘Sarah, my plane leaves in three hours.’
He caught it. Just.
‘Sarah?’
‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’
‘I asked you if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight, aboard the Marie-Anne, at the Yacht Club.’
I almost said ‘No,’ and then the name jolted my memory. ‘The Marie-Anne? That gorgeous yacht? It’s yours?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Splendid. Meet me for a drink in the hotel bar about seven.’
Later, I wondered if I was doing the right thing, but it looked like a no-lose situation.
If his intentions were honourable, I’d get a good dinner. If they weren’t, I’d get a good dinner and get laid afterwards. He wasn’t in the first flush of youth, but I’d received my fair share of pleasure from men of his age. It’s not just talent that wins parts
in the theatre.
The yacht was beautiful. A Filipino in a dazzling white jacket served exquisite food, and poured excellent wine.
‘There are only three crew members,’ Stuart explained. ‘Almost everything is controlled by computers nowadays.’
He was good company during the meal. He said he was a fashion designer, and he took a lot of interest in the costumes I wore on stage.
‘I’m not Christian Dior,’ he said, with a smile. ‘But I’ve made good investments and got lucky.’
After dinner, he suggested a stroll on deck. I expected him to kiss me, but he only wanted to show me the stars.
He pointed out some of the constellations, and then we went back inside for coffee and brandy. He glanced at his slim gold wristwatch.
‘I’m sleeping on board tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Patrick to call the car and take you back to the Meridien.’
I didn’t believe it. Surely he’d say, ‘…unless of course you’d like to stay?’
But a few minutes later, he escorted me to the Mercedes and kissed my hand.
‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘I hope I shall see you again.’ I went back to the hotel, frustrated and puzzled.
The next morning I woke late, showered and ordered breakfast in my room. I was just finishing my coffee when a bellboy delivered a huge bouquet of roses. There was a card in a red envelope:
Thank you for coming last night. Now I’m going to be even more presumptuous. Will you come for a cruise with me, for three or four days? Please meet me for lunch in the Ariake restaurant at 12.30 and say yes. Love, Stuart.
Was this a ploy – a chaste dinner first, followed by three passion-filled nights on the Andaman Sea? Why not?
We sailed from the Yacht Club two days later. Stuart introduced me to the crew.
Steve was a young, muscular American, and Lek a wiry Chinese Thai.
‘And, of course, Juan,’ Stuart said, waving at the Filipino, whose white jacket had been replaced by a sweaty T-shirt.
Stuart explained that we would cruise around in a circle, and drop anchor off a few islands where we could swim. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘So relaxing.’
‘Sounds great,’ I said. As long as you throw in some beautiful sex with it. On the other hand, if you don’t, young Steve looks as if he might have something interesting in his locker.
I donned my smallest bikini and went up on deck. Stuart held out a glass of champagne. ‘We’re going to anchor close to that island,’ he announced, pointing towards a speck of land on the horizon. ‘Juan will take us ashore. Wonderful beach and we’ll take a picnic hamper.’
‘Lovely!’
How about a nice soft blanket for some nookie under the coconut trees?
The beach was beautiful. The food was superb, and the champagne was delicious. There was even a big, soft blanket. Juan set everything out and retired back to the inflatable dinghy.
We ate, we drank, and we talked. And talked. My hormones had reached screaming point when there was a buzzing sound from the small leather satchel Stuart had brought with him. He took out a two-way radio.
‘Sorry,’ he said, and walked away a few yards.
‘Yes, yes, I understand,’ I heard him say. He came back, looking apologetic.
‘I’m sorry, Sarah. Business. I have to send an email to Miami. You stay here – have a swim. I won’t be long.’
Without waiting for my response, he strode down the beach, calling out to Juan, and moments later the two of them were heading back to the yacht.
I poured myself some wine and watched until they reached the boat and scrambled up the ladder to the deck.
It seemed odd – all just a little too contrived. Surely they weren’t going to abandon me, like Robinson Crusoe?
As I sipped the wine, I studied the distance between the Marie-Anne and the beach. Couldn’t be more than 150 metres. I could swim that all right.
The water was warm and it took me no time at all to reach the foot of the ladder. I climbed up slowly until I could just see the deck. The scene in front of my eyes almost caused me to lose my grip and fall back into the sea.
Lek was on his hands and knees on the deck. His pants and shorts were round his ankles, and Steve was kneeling behind him, naked.
Steve certainly had plenty in his locker. It was long, thick and looked very hard as it pumped rapidly in and out of the Thai’s arse. Both men were slick with sweat, and as I watched, Steve’s body tensed and he let out a loud groan. He stayed rigid; his cock buried to the hilt, and then fell forward, half burying Lek beneath his huge frame.
They were dead to the world. I swung myself over the rail and tiptoed behind them to the stairwell leading below deck.
The door of my cabin was ajar and it swung back silently. My clothes were strewn over the bed, except for the ones Stuart had selected.
He was admiring himself in the dressing table mirror. He was wearing green silk panties, a blue bra and a pair of black fishnet stockings.
‘Poor colour match,’ I said.
He whirled around.
As he opened his mouth to speak the boat rocked violently.
From the deck, I heard Juan’s shout.
‘Boss! Pirates!’
Stuart looked panic-stricken, but before he could move a huge black-clad figure, with a pistol in his hand, stepped into the cabin.
‘Get dressed,’ he said to me, and waited silently while I wrapped myself in a robe. He escorted us to Stuart’s cabin, allowed him to change into shirt and shorts and ushered us on deck, where three tough looking Asians, carrying automatic rifles, were guarding the crew.
We stood in a circle. The big man stuck the pistol in his belt.
‘Now, lady and gentlemen, I’ll explain the rules.’ His voice was soft and Irish. ‘Firstly, no one is going to hurt you. Mr Northby and I have some business to conduct. You will be locked in the cabins below. If you behave, no problem; if you misbehave, you will be put on my friend’s boat.’
He waved his hand at a dirty fishing vessel, which was moored about fifty metres away.
He spoke to one of the Asians, and then turned back to us. ‘You three.’ He indicated our three crewmembers. ‘Go with them.’ The Asians herded them away.
‘Now, Mr Northby, we have business to discuss. But first let’s sort out the accommodation. Are you and the young lady an item, as they say?’
I jumped in before Stuart had a chance. ‘No!’
‘Right. There are three cabins down there. My men will sleep on deck, so you and your crew can have one cabin, I’ll have one cabin, and the young lady can keep hers.’
He grinned at me. ‘Please go down to your cabin. I have to have a talk with Stuart here.’
I took off the robe, stripped off my wet bikini and took a shower. Pirates? Pirates were one-legged men with parrots on their shoulder, who shouted about pieces of eight and made people walk the plank, not hard-faced Asians with automatic rifles or polite Irishmen with pistols. What the hell had I got myself into? I wrapped myself in a towel and lay down on the bed.
I closed my eyes and was dozing when there was a knock on the door.
‘Come in.’
Number One Pirate appeared in the doorway. ‘I just wanted to be sure you’re okay.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I just wanted you to know that you’re safe. We’re not out to hurt anyone.’
‘Good.’
‘Tell me about yourself. Northby told me your name’s Sarah and that you’re a dancer. What are you doing here, Sarah?’
‘To be honest I’m not sure.’ I told him the story. He laughed when I told him about Stuart wearing my underwear.
‘When he first invited me, I assumed that he wanted me for sex. But he never touched me, and then when I found him in my bra and pants…’ I giggled at the memory. ‘But what’s going on? Who are you?’
He hesitated. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m finding it a bit difficult to have a conversation with you lying on a bed in a towel, knowi
ng as I do what lies beneath it. Put on some clothes and come up on deck.’
‘How do you know what’s underneath it? And what’s your name?’
‘I’ve seen you in a wet bikini, Sarah, and I’ve got a powerful imagination. And you can call me Patrick.’
I put on a fresh bikini and a pair of shorts and went up on deck. The yacht was under way and the fishing boat was following. Patrick was standing with a pair of binoculars, making a slow sweep of the surrounding ocean. I could see one of the Asians in the wheelhouse.
Patrick lowered the binoculars and turned around. ‘Sarah! We’ll have a drink. Mr Northby has a fine taste in wine, so he has. Red, white or bubbly?’
‘Bubbly would be good.’
‘Fine choice.’ He took a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the cold box, which someone had retrieved from the island. We clinked glasses and drank, and the cold dry wine tasted delicious. He topped up our glasses and took my hand. The touch of his fingers sent a little shiver up my spine.
‘Okay, Sarah, let me tell you a bit about Stuart Northby. Firstly, that’s only one of at least four names he uses. Secondly, he’s not a fashion designer; he’s a con-man. And thirdly he’s…well, he’s a sexual deviant.’
‘A what? Is he gay?’
‘Not gay. He just can’t have a normal relationship with a woman. The only way he can get his rocks off, if you’ll pardon the expression, is by dressing in women’s underwear.’
‘From what I’ve seen I can believe it. But why did he go to all the trouble over me? Was it just so he could wear my knickers?’
‘Partly, I suppose. But mainly for his reputation. Not many people know about his problems, and it’s good for his image to be seen with attractive women.’
‘So where do you fit in? What exactly are you doing?’
‘Northby preys on old people, taking their money and destroying their lives. He uses all sorts of scams. Two years ago he conned my father out of all the money he had. It killed him. It took me a long time and a lot of money, but finally I got into a position where I could take my revenge. This boat is Northby’s pride and joy. We’ve been watching him for weeks and this was the chance to snatch it from him.’
Five Minute Fantasies 1 Page 16
