This is a sequel to "Emily: Seduced on the Foredeck", and "Emily: Fingered on the Beach (in that order)
But you don't need to have read those to (I hope) enjoy this story.
*****
We swam out and climbed back aboard the yacht; drying ourselves while standing in the cockpit.
After helping Adam set out the sun awning that spans between the spray dodger and the bimini, I left him sitting on his towel, letting the warm air complete the drying process, while I ducked down to set out the lunch.
It was nothing elaborate. Just the anti-pasta that dad tends to use as his default boat lunch; which in this case consisted of supermarket packets of processed meats, cheeses and sun dried stuff that dad had given me in a bag before we left.
Momentarily alone with my thoughts, I had to wonder at the orgasmic display that I just put on at the beach. I'm not that hard to get to cum and yes, I can be known to lift my hips as I actually cum. But I don't usually squirm about before then and scream and have the orgasm go on for over a minute like Adam had just caused me to. Indeed, until that moment, I'd always thought erotic writing stuff about women bucking about was nonsense.
I wasn't complaining. It, and the one he'd given me on the foredeck at sea earlier, were probably two of the best orgasms I've ever had. The foredeck one I'd explained to myself - and to Adam - as a sort of release of the built up misery from my breakup with Luke.
But Luke hadn't entered my head since Adam had talked about a relationship. I know I'd been emotional for the last week, but something else was at work; something special about Adam. Whether that meant we were somehow meant for each other or he was just a better lover I didn't know. Or maybe I was just being a silly girl and it would all turn to ordinary the next time.
After connecting my MP3 player to the Yacht's sound system and playing it through to the cockpit speakers, I carried and up passed the food and some utensils, where we set it all out on the cockpit table. Then I sat down next to Adam; putting a hand high enough on his thigh to be in intimate contact and leaving me one to eat the finger food with, something he reciprocated.
Adam was still only dressed in Dad's speedo style swimwear. I've always wondered why they were so unpopular with younger guys. Sure they look disgusting on some pot-bellied, wrinkly skinned, older guy, but on someone like Adam they look really hot. But there was one issue with them I could see guys might have. As the hand on his thigh brushed against his ball sack, he grew a half erection. It poked out diagonally, bisecting the angle between his stomach and his thighs, pushing into the material in a really obvious way that left nothing to the imagination.
After a few mouthfuls I stood up to reach across the table for the bottle of mineral water to pour us both a drink. Inevitably I needed to bring my butt across Adam's face.
Suddenly Adam put and hand on both my hips, momentarily freezing me in place. Next thing I know he kissed me on both butt cheeks, pulled down the back of my bikini pants, kissed again the bare flesh and then took great care restoring my pants neatly in place.
"You have no idea how often I've wanted to do that when you were shaking your butt under my nose while you were grinding the winches."
I twisted around to talk to him as he continued to hold my hips.
"I thought my sailing shorts were fairly daggy."
"Your butt would look irresistible in anything; but you're underestimating your shorts. Anyhow, you've forgotten the seasons you were wearing leggings."
Ah yes; the leggings. Normally sailors wear shorts unless it's really cold. But the Australian sun is unrelenting; unlike anything in the Northern hemisphere. Ideally you'd like to wear something to protect yourself. But it needs to be not too hot to wear, to dry quickly without chilling you in the process and offer some bruise protection. That's an impossible list; miracle fabrics notwithstanding.
Dad's nominated crew colours are white pants and a mid-blue crew shirt. In desperation I went looking for a pair of white leggings; something not that easy, if impossible, to find. Leggings, yoga pants, active wear pants, call them what you will. They vary in cut from those that are flat bottomed to those that mould to you and into all your crevasses like they were spray painted on. The ones I eventually found a couple of seasons back were way into the latter category. They also had a tendency to go somewhat transparent when wet.
I satisfied my own level of modesty by wearing a thong bikini bottom underneath them; anything more substantial being almost impossible given the cut of the leggings. But it probably did sometimes show more at the rear than people are used to seeing.
Anyway, after two years they got snagged and torn and I couldn't find a replacement; so went back to shorts. I had to concede a point to Adam.
"Yea, the leggings might have been a bit showy; although if I could replace them I still would. They were very comfortable."
"A bit showy! I needed to go into therapy every time I got off the boat after working behind you while you were wearing them."
"And what sort of therapy would that have been? Might it have involved your girlfriend at the time?"
Adam blushed; revealing I'd hit a bit too close to home in obliquely suggesting the best therapy was a good root with his girlfriend.
Recovering his composure, Adam finally replied.
"I refuse to incriminate myself. Anyway, it might have helped, but it wasn't the same."
That left open the question of - "The same as what?" I suspected what he really wanted to do went well beyond kissing my butt cheeks. It may well have been the case that this morning provided the therapy he'd been needing all along.
Finally picking up the bottle, I poured us both a glass and returned it to the other side of the table. As I went to sit back down, Adam used his hands to guide me onto his lap; something I'd been half inclined to do anyway.
Coming onto his lap in the v formed between his stomach and his half erection, the latter was pushed down by my crotch until it lay parallel with his thighs. It swelled and hardened, pushing up firmly into my front crease where the warmth of its blood flow transmitted itself to my own swollen bud.
There we sat; me passing Adam pickings from the table in accordance with his requests and occasionally turning around and putting them directly in his mouth. Lunch, leisurely and satisfying though it was, was interspersed with playful rocking to the music; even singing to it sometimes - Adam disclosing in the process a pretty good singing voice.
His hardness continually surged against my bud, pushing up anxiously as it fought to regain some verticality; more so as I moved on his lap when I danced on it, stretched to reach some food or twisted around to face him and talk. And let's not kid ourselves that the dancing had only been about enjoying the music. I'd moved forward enough that the top of his erection was sitting against my clit. Captured by the folds of my front bottom, curving up into it, as I moved on his lap I could get it to stimulate my clit in a circular motion; controlling completely the speed and pressure, slipping back a bit to let the side of the bell play against it and then forward again to spear it with the tip, all as I kept to the beat.
If at first the pretence of non-sexual playfulness had been important, I had to drop it when he slipped out of place with a particularly vigorous dance move on his lap. Unable to reset it in any other way, I put my hand down between my legs and his, squeezed between my fingers the anxious, unyielding end of his manhood and manually moved it back where I wanted it. Once again I felt that my bikini bottoms had been reduced to a wetness which permeated the material; this time joined by the copious pre-cum seeping through Adam's pants. Our swimwear was sliding against each other like skates on an ice rink. No wonder it felt so good.
I knew what all of this was doing to Adam. I felt how hard he was, I could sense how fast his heart was beating in his chest even as we talked, sang and played. But we were co-conspirators in this sexual game. The only real question was whether we finish it here or do it properly down below.
The answer came when I suddenly realised I was going to climax; aware I'd gone past the point where I could stop it. It was going to be quick; I could feel my abdomen tightening in anticipation of what was to follow.
In a hopeless attempt to hide it from Adam, I suppressed the noise I made down to a sort of grunt, closed my eyes, squeezed my legs tightly together and pushed down into his lap as I squirmed about; desperately, somehow trying to time it to the music. Oh, god! The very time I'm wanting it to end before Adam twigs to me, it just seems to go on and on, like time was standing still.
And then, just when I think it's over, the squirming on his lap with his cock pressed hard into my bud triggers a second; an explosion of pleasure I can't contain. The grunt becomes a slow mournful sign and I bend over, head nearly on the table; contraction after pleasurable contraction washing through me.
With his arms around my waist, Adam waited until I raised my head, and with a deliberate sense of understatement asked -
"Did you just go off?"
It was a question that didn't need an answer. I stood up, turned to face him, pulled him to his feet by his hand and led him down to the front cabin. When we got there I turned around to face him. There'd been enough hurried sex with half our clothes still on today. This time I wanted to make sure he was naked.
I knelt down, undid the drawstring on his swimmers, peeled them off over the erection that pushed up over the waistband and was now glued to the material by his own pre-cum and dropped the swimmers to his feet. With his hardened manhood, thick and long, right at my face I felt compelled to hold it, turn my face sideways and sloppily kiss along its length, taking half its circumference into my mouth with each kiss. I wasn't sure whether he might have liked more. I'm not a great one for giving head. But I'd been teasing it for nearly an hour over lunch; I didn't want to risk it going off early. I had other plans for it.
Adam pulled me to my feet, put his arms around me and kissed me as I felt him fumbling for the tie strings of my bikini top behind my back. The top came loose and he pulled it off me, bending down to suck each nipple as he pulled my pants down over my thighs as far as his arms would stretch while holding a nipple firmly in his mouth.
With his face still firmly attached to my breast, he pushed me the step backwards that brought me to the edge of the bunk, then lowered my back onto the cushion. His tongue never for a moment stopped flicking against my nipple with his face vacuum sealed to my breast, as he knelt over me, lifted my back and slid me fully onto the bunk.
