This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 and over.
Midnight.
Vicky was down on her elbows and knees, head on the pillow, tail in the air, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open. On his knees behind her, gripping her butt for purchase, the old man pistoned his cock in and out of the girl's squelching pussy, spine flexing, sweat flying.
This was the fifth round since they'd anchored-up mid-afternoon, on the northern side of a small tropical island. Vicky had taken his first load in her mouth, not for the taste, which she could take or leave, but for the wicked pleasure of swilling the warm, sperm-seething slime around in her mouth, then gulping it down like an oyster fresh out of its shell. That would do as an appetiser. It was her last night on the boat, at least for a while, and she meant to make the most of it. She wanted sex. She wanted it hard, she wanted it fast, she wanted it deep and she wanted it dirty and the old man, god bless him, was only too willing to oblige.
First off with a nice round of missionary. Then Watson ratted-out some of his best weed and they shared a slim joint, washing it down with some French Champagne. Then it was cowgirl as the sun went down, Vicky bucking and gyrating while Watson fondled her tits, their bodies slapping and sliding in a lather of sweat. Then up in the aptly named cockpit, under the stars, Vicky kneeling on the side seat, facing the sea, Watson behind her, music wafting from a nearby boat masking her cries. Then dinner, freshly cooked green fish curry on a bed of saffron rice, wolfed down by two ravenous souls. Then a nice hot shower and a nice stand-up fuck, before a nightcap of more French Champagne and a tiny top up of weed.
And now doggy, saving the best till last, Vicky revelling in every millimeter of Watson's rock-hard cock, as he hammered into her, knob fetching up behind the dome of her cervix somewhere near the small of her back. He slapped her ass, his body streaming rivulets of perspiration. "Vick." he grunted, "Here it goes again."
"Are you gonna cum?"
"Uh huh
When he did it would be his third for the night. "Jesus Christ!" Vicky panted, "where's it coming from?"
"My cock."
"Are you fff... flippin' made of the stuff?"
"You and me both, Baby." Watson huffed, pausing in his assault, teetering on the trembling edge of orgasm. "Though by now it's mostly bone marrow."
Vicky commenced feathering her clit in a shower of body fluid, powering up so they could climax together. Again. "Can we save some for tomorrow?" she panted, "I want a little takeaway for the trip home."
"Will do." Watson rasped. "You nearly there?"
Vicky ground her ass against him, swivelling her hips, fists clenching the sheets, head back, muscles straining. "Oh god," she cried, "Damon. I can feel you. I can feel you so deep inside me."
The very energy of Vicky's orgasm was enough to trigger Watson's own, and he pounded furiously into her, then held at full depth, teeth clenched, cock convulsing, squirting three or four token gouts of threadbare semen deep into her belly. Shuddering to a stop, he collapsed on top of her, gasping, his weight pressing her flat onto the mattress. For a moment he lay, twitching prick valiantly expressing a last few drops. "Fuck me!" he puffed, then paused to lick the sweat off the nape of her neck, "If I can manage to walk after this, it'll be a bloody miracle."
"Your poor old legs again?" Vicky asked, face in the pillow.
"Gone!" Watson nodded on her back, "Disappeared without a trace."
"They always seem to grow back."
"I've noticed that too. I must be part lizard."
"No!" Vicky shook her head, "You're all horny toad. Every last bit of you."
"By Christ you're good at this, Macca."
"Do you mean it?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Am I fuckable then?" she asked, totally in love with the term.
"With a capital 'F', Vick. I mean it, they should put you in the olympics."
"What event?"
"Oh I don't know... synchronised bonking?"
Vicky reached back and patted his flank. "Just making up for lost time. And to think. It almost didn't get off the ground."
"What do you mean?"
"After that dawn surprise."
"Oh," Watson said, "right. You know thinking about that still makes me cringe."
"Well it shouldn't. Just imagine. If I hadn't walked in on you while you were... ahem... busy, none of this might have happened."
"I guess..." Watson conceded, "though it was touch and go there for a while."
"Oh well." Vicky shrugged. "All's well that ends well as they say in the classics."
"Aye. The Universe moves in mysterious ways." Watson replied. "Nothing happens by accident."
"So a wise man once said." Vicky nodded. She fell silent for a moment, then heaved a deep, ragged sigh. "So. Back to the real world tomorrow."
"Real world?" Watson said, unconvinced. "I guess that depends on your frame of reference."
"Yes," Vicky nodded, "of course, you're so right. This is the real word. I can feel it. I can see it, I can touch it, I can taste it, I can-"
"Fuck it?"
"-fuck it, precisely. The world I'm going back to is all make-believe. It's just a construct, an idea, built around money and materialism. It's just egos and rivalries, and envy and desire. But out here. Out here I can be who I'm really meant to be."
"Who?
"Adventure girl." Vicky giggled. "But it's true, isn't it? Back there I'm something, a barrister's PA. Out here I'm someone, I'm actually me."
Watson gave a grunt of dour laughter. "Sorry Vick, I should have warned you. Going to sea can really fuck with your precepts."
After a moments silence, they both spoke at once, and Vicky eventually won the 'you first' duel. "Did you mean it?" Watson asked, "When you said you'd rather just stay here with us? Forever and ever?"
Vicky didn't reply at first, then Watson felt her shaking.
"Macca?" he cried, arching his neck, "Surely not. Not on our last bloody night. For god's sake no blubbing."
"I'm not blubbing!" she blubbed, smearing her eyes. "Yeah, I meant it. But I also meant it when I said it would just ruin everything." Vicky flexed her knees and pummelled Watson's butt with her heels. "You horrible man. You've gone and got me thinking the 'L' word."