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When Roger takes a job crewing on a private sailboat he finds that dealing with the couple who own it is more of a challenge than the sailing. She's hot and looking for fun. He's getting absorbed in his work. Roger doesn't mind taking up the slack and giving her the hot and hard sex she's looking for at sea. And ashore, well the locals provide plenty of other smoking hot people for them to party with. The more tense things get on board, the wilder the action. ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ I suppose there was more to their disagreements than sailing. After all, they were there to repair old problems and some of them must have re-emerged. Just one week into the trip, Bart was no longer focusing entirely on Janet. His head, if not his body, had already ended his vacation. "I need to check in with the office," he told Janet one night. She didn't seemed thrilled but she got a drink and went to sit on the bow while he made a phone call, got agitated, and made more calls. By the time he went to bed, he wasn't having fun and from then on, he was fixated on that telephone. Now, as soon as we anchored, he was grabbing his cell phone instead of Janet, and making calls. He would grab a bottle of booze and a bucket of ice and settle into the cockpit talking on the phone about some kind of construction shit with people who were probably on conference calls at the other end. This would go on for an hour or two. Janet yelled at him that she didn't like to sit around listening to him talk business and went to the cabin. I figured that her choice of places to sulk wouldn't help her temper any. It was stinky hot below decks in some of those windless bays. I didn't want to listen either, so I dove over the side and took a swim. One night I got a surprise. From the deck I could see that the anchor was dug into beautiful white sand in about twenty feet of water. I dove in from the bow, going deep down for a close look. It was gorgeous in the late afternoon sun and fish were already planning to develop the anchor as a reef. As I came up from the bottom, I saw Janet coming down. Her soft yellow bikini blended with her skin in the shadows of the hull and I happily imagined her swimming naked next to me. When I surfaced, I started swimming around the boat, just for the exercise. She joined me, giving me a friendly, almost conspiratorial smile as she swam alongside. Neither of us said a word and I happily, if wistfully watched her graceful body glide through the water. We swam until the sounds of Bart's phone call stopped. Then we climbed onto the swim platform at the stern, rinsed off with fresh water, and went up the ladder to towel ourselves dry on the stern. Then we fixed dinner.
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© 2013 Blair Erotica
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This is the first book (of four) in The Fantasy Charter Series. It is a standalone story.
I stood on the bow, listening to the steady hiss of the bow cutting through the water as SILVER DOLLAR bit through the short chop. She was a good sailboat. After a few days on board, I had come to like the way she handled. I was also glad that she was fairly good sized, not just because a bigger boat rode much better than a smaller one in these waters, but also because a 50 footer gave me enough space to be able to get away from Bart and Janet for a time.
When the trip began I had needed a way to escape the sounds of them fucking every time they weren't on watch. That was fair enough. Bart had warned me in a roundabout way and I should have seen it coming.
"I want to hire you for two important reasons, Roger," he had said. "The first one is financial. The insurance company insists that we have licensed crew on board when going offshore. Someone with your certifications." I knew that was true and it was why I bothered to keep my certifications current, well beyond what it takes to crew on a yacht."
But the real reason was he wanted me on board was to keep things running, the boat on its course while he and his wife Janet fucked. He didn't put it that way, of course. In the interview he talked about them needing time to repair their relationship. She was a corporate executive and he ran a construction company. Both jobs were demanding and they had grown apart. He thought they needed time to get closer together again. "I can't sail the boat and still give her the attention she wants," he had said.
Bart was probably in his mid-forties. He was an average looking guy who was a bit pudgy from too much desk time. But this story is only about him in a tangential way. He wasn't the main actor.
I'm twenty-six, and when I met Janet I was in lust. Even though she must have been ten years older, she looked hot. She had all the right curves and good muscle tone. She hit the gym often, even if Bart didn't. The skimpy bikinis she wore every day on the boat made me acutely aware of each and every line of her body. When she moved, her black hair caressed her shoulders in a way that sent a tingle through me. I wanted to run my hand over her neck as her hair had moved. As the saying went, looking at Janet, I thought that I wouldn't mind getting some of that.
Janet was a little cold towards me at first. I figured she would have preferred that the two of them made the trip alone but she got overruled. Or maybe it was just because Bart hired me without letting her even meet me. Whatever her reason, she was distant. Not that she was nasty; she just acted formal, like I was an unwelcome guest that she had to be nice to. She had her professional manager air or something that had a way of keeping me in my place. She made me a bit uncomfortable, especially since she was such a looker and I couldn't help looking. And there was no doubt that she knew I was looking.
In the beginning of the cruise, Bart left most of the sailing to me and did focus on Janet a lot. Almost entirely, in fact. Not that he talked to her lovey dovey or anything. His attention was mostly on her pussy, it seemed to me. Not that she didn't enjoy that attention. Even in front of me, even though she did seem to want me there, they acted like newlyweds, touching each other at over opportunity. She did it more often than he did even, reaching over to stroke his cock through his swim suit. Once, when I was forward messing with the sails, out of the corner of my eye I saw her walk up behind him and put her hand down the back of his trunks. He spread his legs and I shuddered delighted at the idea of Janet fondling me like that.
Bart set up a three watch rotation for sailing. He didn't like night sailing so they were short watches. Each person took a turn at the helm for three hours, more or less. In theory that gave you six hours off, although I had a lot of maintenance tasks and did some cooking and cleaned up the dishes. By the time nine hours had passed we were usually at anchor.
Janet took the watch as soon as we hauled up the anchor after breakfast. She and Bart set sail and course, while I did the galley cleanup, and then helped out, trimming sails, splicing lines and so on, until lunch. I ate an early lunch alone and took over the helm while they ate. At first, as soon as they finished lunch they went below and fucked like maniacs.
Later, at about three, an exhausted Bart took the final watch. His turn didn't always even run three hours, because we anchored when he found a bay he liked. That was okay, and it was fine with me that he dealt himself the easiest watch. But the steady sex, of which I had no part, was beginning to get to me.
We anchored in the afternoon, and while I washed down the boat, they went below for round two. Often as not, I was treated to another audio portion of the program as it filtered from the master stateroom to my little cabin.
When we were still in port and Bart presented it to me, the idea of minding the ship while they got closer sounded all nice and romantic, maybe even noble. Besides, I needed the money and some time at sea to keep my certifications current. It seemed like an easy job, babysitting lovesick yuppies on a sailing vacation. As it turned out, sailing the boat was easy enough but the close confines of the boat, even one that big, meant I always heard their groans and sighs and moans when they fucked.
Not that they did it in front of me, but it gets hot in the Caribbean, and even when they shut themselves up in their cabin, the hatches stayed open to catch some air. That meant the sounds they made carried to where I stood watch at the helm. Janet was ardent, enthusiastic and loud. I decided that she must be one wild piece of ass. But after awhile it got to be downright painful to be constantly aware that they were having great sex and I wasn't. The truth was, at that point I really didn't want to know that she was coming again unless I was getting some of it, but it was hard to avoid her public announcements.
To keep from going crazy, if the boat was holding a steady course on autopilot, when they went below decks, I took to going forward to the bow. The view there was great, but more important, it meant that the wind blew the sounds aft and I missed some of her enthusiasm. It wasn't a perfect solution though, because I had to walk by the hatch. One time when the ship rolled and I looked down to check my footing I got an eyeful of Bart fucking Janet from behind. He held her hips and was poking his cock in her; she was moaning and happily rocking her ass back at him. Janet definitely was hot. She had a great ass too.
So it was stressful.
After a few days, however, I sensed a sea change. The tone of voice they used in private shifted. Words snapped instead of flowing. Soon it was clear that they were fighting at least as much as they were fucking. I don't know why and didn't even care, really; my only concern was that they seemed to make even more noise fighting than they did fucking. Janet's voice carried so I know that she thought he was being a bastard about something or other. I could've guessed that one. So, even though she was seldom coming, I still often went forward; now, however I didn't need to worry about averting my eyes when I went past the hatch.
I know that one issue that had come between them had to do with our sailing schedule. It hadn't taken long for me to sort out that Janet was the better, or at least more avid, sailor. "We haven't made one decent night passage on the entire trip," she said. She was complaining to Bart, not me, but they were in the saloon and talking loud enough that I couldn't avoid hearing every word. The sound of their voices rose up as if I was standing next to them.
"There are no decent night passages. Night passages aren't fun," Bart insisted. "At night it gets cold and wet."
"I enjoy seeing the moon on the water," she said. "There will be a full moon tonight, Bart. The sky at night is gorgeous and very sexy."
He snorted. "Then when we get to civilization we can get a room at a marina with a balcony," he said as if that were in every way an improvement over what she wanted.
I didn't hear the resolution to the argument about night passages, but we never made any. We anchored early every day. If he hadn't already picked one in advance after reading the cruising guide, in the afternoon Bart would point to a bay on the chart, have me plot a course to it and we would anchor there before dark.
Frankly, some of those bays weren't all that great. Some were open to the swells from the sea and we would rock uncomfortably all night. When the mosquitos came out in swarms, my vote would have been with Janet on making a night passage, even though I don't view them as romantically as she described them. Anchoring every night also meant we weren't getting south quickly. I got the impression that Janet wanted to get to Grenada before their vacation time ran out. It was looking increasingly like there wouldn't be nearly enough time even if they stored the boat there and flew back.
I suppose there was more to their disagreements than sailing. After all, they were there to repair old problems and some of them must have re-emerged. Just one week into the trip, Bart was no longer focusing entirely on Janet. His head, if not his body, had already ended his vacation.
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