Two Some Three Some Boat Some Ch 03

This is the version that my memory has embellished over the years. This may not be quite the way it happened, but it sure is the way I *want* to remember it, voyeur that I am.

All this happened in the seventies, back in those happy days of birth control pills, before AIDS, and before rampant VD; just after the days of "If it moves, fondle it" and a decade before the days of "Two condoms in every purse." Happily it was also before the days of breast implants and mandatory exaggerations of breast and penis size.

Back then, this sort of unprotected sex was normal behavior. Today, it would be insanely irresponsible. Do not try this at home. If you do try this at home, be safe.

My young wife and I are taking a week's vacation on Nantucket. We're in our early thirties. We've been married less than two years.

It's cool, being late in the season. We're both wearing sweaters, and she has pantyhose under her skirt. Remember pantyhose? Her skirt is short, well above her knees, but not what you would consider mini today. She is a very slinky babe, medium height, thin and curvy, with good handful-size breasts.

We're having dinner. The tables are crowded close together, and we meet the two guys at the next table: an older guy in his fifties, tall, stocky, nice looking, salt and pepper hair, and the mechanic/first mate on his boat, much younger, our age, lanky, dark, scruffy moustache. They're sailing around the world on a really big sailboat.

They're both very personable and funny and we all have a great time over dinner and much wine. Roger invites us to the boat for more drinks after dinner. The main cabin is as large as the living room of our house. And filled with a huge, beautiful oriental rug that probably cost as much as our house. More wine comes out for all of us to drink, with the occasional Scotch for Roger. We talk and laugh and drink too much.

She and I are sitting together on a couch. It's warm; I take my sweater off. I kiss her, long and deep, not just a peck but a lover's kiss. And not just once. It's okay; we're married. We smile at each other. I'm not sure what she's thinking, but I sure know what I'm thinking.

Billy put on some music and I danced with my wife. A slow dance, holding each other close, just swaying to the beat, talking. The guys wanted to dance with her, too. Seemed only fair. So we rotated partners. They danced the same way, close, her arms around her partner's neck, his on her waist or lower.

When my turn came around again, I held her by her butt. I wasn't subtle about it, either. I'm sure the other guys saw me do it. I held her butt firmly and pulled her hips into mine. Just a little fun. We always dance that way.

Dances were punctuated by more wine, sometimes a small sip, sometimes not small. We were all pretty toasted and stayed that way.

When she danced with them next round, they felt free to roam her butt, too. She didn't remove their hands so long as they didn't get too aggressive. Well, *that* was interesting. She looked over at me for my reaction. I was a little surprised but not concerned. Boys will be boys. And playing with girls' bodies is the number one sport of boys.

Next dance, I kissed her, deeply, real lovers' tongue kissing, and I really played with her ass holding her hips tight to me. I decided to have a little fun, so I pulled her skirt up in the back to feel the back of her legs. This exposed her legs to anyone who was looking, and, believe me, everyone was looking. As I mentioned, her skirt wasn't very short, but my pulling it up like that made it look quite short.

The next dance, Roger kissed her, too, and she accepted it. Not just a friendly peck. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue and they French kissed for most of the song. He nuzzled her neck, too, beneath her short hair. And then he started playing with her butt as I had. She looked over to me with some alarm. Again, I wasn't too concerned. She's a big girl, and if his attentions are unwanted, she can stop him easily. I guess she didn't object because she saw that I didn't. And I didn't object because I saw that she didn't. She was accepting being kissed and fondled openly. I just wondered if she had a clear idea of where she would stop.

When his turn came, Billy then took the same sorts of liberties, too. He kissed her and fondled her butt and her hips. At the end of that dance round, her wine sip was larger.

When we next danced, she asked me if I saw their hands on her. Yes, I did. And what did I think? I didn't mind. "You know I don't mind. You do whatever feels like fun to you."

She looked hard at me. "They're copping feels all over me. Strange guys. I don't really know them. They're feeling me up like we're familiar."

"Is it a problem? Have fun. We're on vacation. We'll never see these guys again."

I raised her skirt a little more until I could reach under it to her ass. "They'll see what you're doing and think it's okay." She's feeling some pressure.

"Probably. Yes. Try to relax."

"They'll want to do the same."

"You want that?"

"Oh, god, honey, there are three of you and only one of me."

More wine.

In the next dance, Roger kissed her deeply again, long. And then moved his hand from her waist to her breast. Right on it. Kneaded it, fondled it. She looked over to me again. But she didn't remove his hand. I was very surprised. She's letting him really feel her up! A hand on the butt is friendly. A hand on the tit isn't just friendly, it's sexual. They were just swaying slowly to the music, holding each other, her arms around his neck, his hands molding her breast and butt. Her sip of wine was even larger.

Billy took similar liberties with her body when his dance came, and still she didn't object to his fondling her. Things had advanced from a little butt feel, to serious kissing, to feeling her breasts. First and second base in like fifteen minutes.

She asked me, "Did you see them feeling me up? A little grab-ass is one thing. Openly grabbing my boobs is very different. That's going a lot further. That's beginning to be real sex."

"Yes, I saw them fondling you, lovingly. You didn't seem to mind much. You didn't make any move to stop him. Are you having fun making out like kids again? You know I won't mind, whatever you do. If you want to have fun, I won't mind." Sway, sway, sway. "Relax. Have fun. Isn't it exciting to know that all men want you?"

"So they say. They've both been whispering to me while kissing my neck or ear. Saying how beautiful I am. How attractive. How sexy. How slinky. How they love to hold me. They're getting all hot and bothered. And it's getting to me, too."

"I agree with them. You are incredibly attractive and slinky and sexy."

"I can feel their cocks when they press against me. They're both hard. They press their hard-ons into my mound and my belly. I know what they want."

"Isn't it exciting to know that we all want you? I think it's great that they want you, and they want to touch you, and that they're hard against your delicious mound. Don't you want them to touch you?"

"Yes . . . well . . . mmmmmm. I'm getting so horny. Are you going to take me back to the hotel and fuck me silly tonight?" And she went back to Roger for the next dance.

This all developed slowly. There were probably six or seven rounds of her dancing with all the men. Fast or slow music didn't matter, they were all slow dances to us. The dancing couple just held each other close and swayed to some beat. And talked in whispers. And kissed. More kissing than dancing. And fondled. That and another bottle of good wine. She was on her feet the whole time with one or another of us, she didn't get to rest at all as we guys did. All she did was dance and drink, dance and drink. And get felt up by all of the men.

A couple more rounds with the guys feeling her all over. She stayed glued to them, front to front with no airspace in the middle, her arms tight around the neck of whichever male was with her. Kissing deeply, laying her head to the side to let a man nibble on her ear or kiss her neck. Guy's hands slid up from her waist to her prominent breasts, cupping one or both at the same time. She didn't pull away, but held on to her partner's neck and lips, or reached down to his back to pull him into her just as he did earlier.

Then the next escalation: hands went up under her sweater to feel her breasts more intimately, over or inside her bra. During my dances, she continued to tell me that they were feeling her up. How they cupped and kneaded and fondled her breasts, how they reached under her sweater to put their hands on her bare breasts, rolled her nipples in their fingers. And she told me that she was getting turned on. I answered that I was, too. Surely she could feel my erection in the front of my pants against her mound. "You know I like watching you. Seeing you turn on to sex is the most erotic thing in my life." I was also very turned on, feeling her and watching her be felt by the others.

She was feeling a little guilty about it. I told her that I didn't think there was anything to feel guilty about, we were just having some drinks and fun with a couple new friends. "Oh, honey, what if they want to go further. Should I let them? They're already feeling me up a lot."

"Sweetie, if you are having fun . . . if you like the feeling . . . if it's turning you on, sure. You know I want you to have fun." Sway, sway, sway. "You remember the times you came just from my kissing your breasts? Wouldn't that be fun? You want them to kiss your nipples?" I held her kiss, I squeezed her breast through her bra, put my fingers inside the bra and pinched her nipple gently. "Wouldn't it be good if they kissed your nipples?"

She swooned. "Oh, god, three guys," she moaned loudly into my kiss. "I let them feel my breasts. Next they'll want to see my breasts."

"That's okay."

"What if they want to kiss my breasts. Should your wife let them kiss her breasts?" Now she had my attention. This is a signal between us, her referring to herself in the third person, as "your wife" instead of "I." It means she's excited by something sexual, maybe willing to experiment.

"Do you want them to do that?"

"If I let them go that far, they'll want to feel me more. Below my waist."

"They're already holding and massaging your butt."

"Yes, but they'll want to feel more than my butt. They'll want to feel my front."

"We all want to feel your front, sweetie. All the fun parts are in front. Would that turn you on?"

"But they're trying to get under my clothes. What if they want to take my clothes off?

What about that, is that okay? You want them to feel your wife under her clothes?"

"If you want them to feel your skin. If my loving wife wants to feel them on her skin, that's good. Do you want to feel skin-to-skin? You always love skin-to-skin."

"Oh, god, oh, god, then they'll all want to get inside me." She melted, clasped our bodies together as hard as she could. I hugged her long and hard, then went to get more wine for both of us.

Next time with Roger, they were almost standing still, hips swaying but feet barely moving. He pulled her close. Her legs were around one of his, or rather one of his was between hers. He pulled her close with both hands on her butt, effectively pulled her mound onto his thigh. She didn't push back at all, stayed glued to him, continued their deep tongue kiss.

He pulled her skirt up a bit over her butt until he could touch the back of her leg. He reached down under the hem of her skirt and his hand started up her leg. She again didn't pull away, continued kissing with even more enthusiasm. I could hear her moaning into his kiss when he started to feel farther up her leg.

His hand was clearly on her butt under her skirt. I wondered how far she was going to let him go. His hand was feeling her butt, round and tight, over her taut pantyhose. I know what that feels like, having spent much time there myself.

His thigh was still between hers, opening her up if he wanted to reach under her butt to her sex. He reached under a little, but decided that his arm wasn't long enough to get to the interesting parts under her skirt. He slid his hand around the side of her thigh. I was watching this intently. So was Billy. Both of us were just drooling over this incredibly sexy woman being fondled openly in front of us.

Sometimes she would open her eyes and look over to me when he paused to nuzzle her neck. I couldn't read her expression exactly. Her eyes contained a little fear? Maybe not fear, maybe just concern or apprehension? But her eyes and mouth contained a little lust, too. I was rapt watching them, and turned on that she was letting this relative stranger have his way with her body so far.

We watched his hand move to the front of her thigh, halfway up to heaven. Her skirt still covered the exact location of the action, but we knew what he must be feeling. That firm, slippery thigh in the tight nylon. Cool down at the knee, but promising great heat above. Still she allowed him to feel closer and closer to her sex.

I watched in delicious agony as his hand went further up under her skirt. Closer to her core. Then she squealed, a high pitched moan into his kiss, and pushed her hips out and down onto his hand! Whoa! He must have had his fingers pressing into her crotch, feeling her heat and damp of her sex. Could he push into her opening? She moved her legs farther apart and away from his leg, giving him more room to reach into her pussy, inviting him to put his hand on her sexual core. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and moaned and squealed as he pressed into her. God, she must be coming with just his hand pressing into her lips.

The tight urgency of her orgasm went away after, oh, thirty seconds or so. She opened her eyes and started at me with genuine alarm in her eyes. What had she done? She had an orgasm while dancing - well, only sort of dancing - with a strange man, with her husband and another strange man looking on, watching this man put his hands all over her. Watching him feel her up like a teenage date at the prom. Watching him reach up under her skirt to her pussy and grab it and press into it. And she opened her legs for him to give him room to do whatever he wanted. And she kissed him hard and held him as he pushed up into her sex, pushing the fabric of her pantyhose and the panties under them up between the lips of her sex, trying to get up into the opening. Oh, god, how wanton, to let this man feel her sex openly in front of her husband. And to enjoy it. And to open her legs to invite him to feel her, and to come on his hand.

I started to get up to go to her, but Billy beat me to it. He came up behind her, put his arms around her waist to pull her ass back into his crotch, into the large erection that was pushing out the front of his pants. His hands went up to both breasts, and then up under the sweater to feel them better. I could tell by the bulges under her sweater that he lifted the bra up to free her breasts. Another barrier breached. He could cup them naked now, and roll her nipples between his fingers.

Roger was still in front of her, tight against her. She pulled Roger's hips into her front and reached behind her to pull Billy's hips into her back, so she could feel both of their erections pressing into her. Billy reached down to raise her skirt to her waist, and then pulled her sweater up over her breasts. For the first time, I could see clearly one hand in her crotch, pushing hard into her sex, forcing the panty gusset in between her labia, and two hands on her boobs twirling her nipples. How far is she going to go with this?

She moaned and whined, kissed one and then turned to kiss the other. She started to plead, softly, "Oh, god, oh, god, I can't do this. You can't do this to me. You can't, in front of my husband."

Roger answered softly, "Yes, yes, you want us to do this, you want us to feel you. Your husband wants us to touch you, he showed us how, he encouraged you. He's sitting there with his hard-on watching us feel you." He turned his head to me. "You want us to feel her up like this, don't you? You want to see your wife turned on? You loved it when she came with my hand on her pussy."

I couldn't deny it, I did want to see her turn on into sexual overdrive. I wanted to see her nipples get hard and her pussy drip from excitement. I wanted to see her let these men use her body for her pleasure and for theirs.

"You're going to fuck me, aren't you?" she asked almost whispering. "With my husband right here, looking on." She hung her head down, almost cried, "You want to strip me and hold me down and stick your dicks in me. Oh, god."

She looked at me, with lust in her eyes. It wasn't so much a question of whether I wanted her to continue, but that she didn't want me to stop her. She whispered to me, "Are you going to let them use me like this? Do you want them to use your wife? Does this turn you on as much as it does me? They're feeling me all over and they're going to continue and go further." I nodded and grabbed my the hard front of my pants so that she could see.

"Let me talk to my husband," she asked, and they released her. She came to me, kissed me, held me tight. I felt her bare breast and leaned down to kiss it. And I ran my hand up her thigh to her crotch, just as he had, and cupped it and pressed hard into her. She moaned and grabbed my hard-on through my pants.

She whispered in my ear, "Oh god, honey, this has really got out of hand. I'm so turned on. If this goes any further, they'll want to get inside me. Do you want that? Do you want them to be inside your wife? Do you want your wife to spread her legs for two strange men and let them have her?"

"Oh, god, yes, you know I do. I want you to enjoy yourself, to feel hot and feel release. I want my wife to spread her legs for them and let them inside her."

She nodded, looked down, kissed me again. "I love you so much."

"And you know I love you madly," I answered.

She went back to them and the sandwich closed around her. Billy held her breasts, pulled her back tight against him. Roger slid his hand from her thigh up to her waist and then down inside her pantyhose. I said softly to her, "Spread your legs for him. Let him into you." When his fingers slid down inside her panties, she squealed loudly into his kiss and humped her hips into his hand. I could see his fingers squirming inside the crotch of her panties, and as he slipped inside her, she moaned and came again, another mini-orgasm on his hand. She was panting quickly and deeply and jerking her hips on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes tight and a tear ran down her cheek. Not unusual for her, coming is so pleasurable and almost painful at the same time.

Both men reached for the waistband of her pantyhose and started to pull them down. She held their wrists. "No, I can't, not in front of my husband. Don't take my clothes off, please."

Billy pinched her breast and she moaned. Roger ran his hand down over her panties. He hissed, "You know that you want to do this. You want it. Your husband wants it. You want us to strip you and take you. He'll see you being taken. You *want* him to watch you *enjoy* being taken by two men. Look at him. Ask him." He pushed his hand harder and deeper into her sex hole. She squealed and squirmed, her eyes closed in passion. "He liked seeing us feel you up. He liked hearing you come on my hand. You loved it and he loved it. Go ahead, ask him."

She looked up at me. "Honey, they want to have me. Here, now. Do you want them to have me? Do you want them to take your wife right here, to screw me in front of you? You already let them feel up your wife and get into her pussy." She paused a moment to bask in the sensation of being held and felt and fingered by both of them. "He's feeling inside my body right now. He's got his fingers in me. Oh! They're both inside me! That feels wonderful!" Pause. "If they take my clothes off, they will just spread me open and plow into me."