It was inevitable, when we came down to breakfast that morning, that we were going to get a lot of shit and mocking for our noisy sex.
In a way, I couldn't blame them. Had the situation been reversed, I would have done just the same. They were six single males having to listen to me getting my arse fucked off with no avenue of release for whatever emotions that stirred up. And of course it was going to stir up all sorts of feelings; randiness being the least of them. It was why I'd agreed to the handjobs arrangement.
Could Ted and I have been quieter? Maybe. But there was no stopping the bed from squeaking so our activities were going to be announced regardless and it would have taken a lot of the fun out of our sex.
I applied my usual clinical, doctor/ patient approach to giving the three of them handjobs. They were randy all right. All three had full boners before I straddled their thighs and all three went off pretty quickly. James -- being James -- even asked me if he could have a fuck instead. That suggestion was firmly but gently rejected; now and forever.
It was the orange bikini again for the rigging of the boat; much to Ted's delight. We had become nauseatingly handisie with each other in the rigging park; not so much prolonged public displays of affection --like sitting on his lap kissing - as a constant touching of each other. The touching was often in completely inappropriate places for public touching and in ways that told everyone what was happening out of sight; reinforced by the closeness of our bodies as we went about rigging.
It left me in a near constant state of arousal; but I suspect Ted's mere presence might have been enough to do that anyway.
At Ted's request, we launched a bit early to practice up some stuff and get a feeling for the new wind direction. I got the real sense of why Ted wanted to get out early when, after a bit of sailing, he announced that the wind was oscillating through 20 degrees change of direction every 5 and a half minutes. I'd never been very good at that sort of stuff. I knew the principles (regularly oscillating wind at predictable time phases when a high pressure system is overhead; more so when it's not a seabreeze), but had never applied it.
As we lined up for the start, Ted recognised the wind had oscillated to the right just before the five minutes gun, making the boat end seem like the place to start and causing the whole fleet to bunch there. Instead he suggested we run down to the port end of the line; giving us clear air, plenty of room and the chance to cross the line at full speed right on the gun.
About twenty seconds after the start, the wind veered to the left, just as Ted had predicted. That gave us a massive advantage. We tacked and crossed the whole fleet; bar one boat which we had to duck and go behind, since they had right of way.
Now my expectation for the nationals is to be in the top end of the second half of the fleet. Apart from anything else, as a light woman, I don't have the weight and power it gives to go as fast as the other boats in even moderate, let alone fresh wind. For me to get a start like that was super exciting.
We had the boat flying. Riding its foils nicely, ripping to windward through and over the waves with Ted keeping just a little bit of windward heel. But with the windward heel, my stance on the trapeze was super unstable; made stable only by the fact I could use my free hand to support myself against Ted; basically by grabbing his cock. Well, it didn't start out as cock; more very high on his thigh. But when in response he grew a boner, it was more fun to grab his cock, covered as it was only by his thin stretchy board shorts. It was the game we had been playing all through the series so far; it's just we were getting much bolder at it.
Still, as well as we were going, we were having to depower the rig much more than the other heavier crews. By the time we reached the top mark, we'd fallen back to 7th place in the 40 boat feet.
But here's where my little speciality fell into place.
These boats go downwind zig zagging. By doing that they can actually travel downwind faster than the wind itself (by generating what is called apparent wind by the boats movement). The boats ahead set their spinnakers, the crew jumped on the wires and they shot off, heading at something like 40 degrees to the direction they wanted to end up going.
Now my little trick is to be able to ease the boat down some 15 to 20 degrees on their course; taking a more direct line to the mark, without losing too much speed in the process. Don't ask me why or how. I don't know, but for years I've been able to do it. Maybe this is where my light weight helps. And in this case, Ted was helping even more by using his surfing skills to make the most of the waves around us. We were rocketing.
As the other boats gybed and went to cut across us, we found ourselves back in second place. We went a bit further than them, trying to line the gybe up to bring is straight into the gate marks and save further time losing gybes; again using our ability to sail lower to cut them off even further. We succeeded, turning through the gate in a narrowly first position.
By the top mark we were back to sixth, still pretty pleased with ourselves.
Here Ted again read the wind. He'd worked out that, with the next oscillation, we'd be better off being on the left hand side of the course, instead of on the right which is where the mere bearing away around the mark and taking off usually puts you.
We gybed early and went off to the left, still sailing low and lower still because the oscillation favoured us. A couple of boat had followed us, but were sailing higher.
When the next oscillation came through, we gybed again and found ourselves on a direct line to the finish; still undercutting any other boat around us.
To my eternal surprise and excitement, we crossed the line second. I could never have dreamed of that result in a fleet of such experienced and world quality sailors. To say we were both on a high doesn't even start to describe our feelings.
