Carribean Sail

I am a Jimmy Buffet song.

The Caribbean sun warms me as I lay on the bow deck. The thought crosses my mind lazily: it's a good thing that I spent hours preparing for situations like this by exposing every conceivable spot of my 5' 8" body to the sun's rays. My skin is already bronzed, from my toes to my rosy nipples to my rounded ass. This carefully maintained base tan, plus the sunscreen I've applied every few hours since I got here, will keep my skin ready to welcome touches and caresses, whether from the sun that seems to stream down hotter and clearer than anywhere else on earth, or from the men who move so confidently across the boat's decks and cockpit.

Cockpit- now that's an appropriate word. As soon as we cleared the harbor, I removed the tiny scraps of cloth that are considered city and beachwear here on the islands. Their eyes were riveted on the few square inches that covered the acreage of my tits. Just slowly enough to grab their attention, to make sure they missed no movement, I untied the strings across my back that secured the fabric. I had made sure to tie them tight enough that they were partially supporting my massive mams. I'd spent a pretty penny "enhancing" them, but I'd been born with the genes that naturally created D cup boobs. The doc just needed to add a little lift and bulge to create the very firm EE tits that now captured men's attention wherever I went. And since my natural assets kept them jiggly and mashable and the doc's work kept them lifted high, the loosened strings allowed the lower orbs to drop slightly and show clearly beneath the floating fabric. But enough coverage remained while I slowly released the upper strings to build desire and curiosity in the men who watched. And there demonstrated the appropriateness of "cockpit": Cocks were definitely rising in the jeans and shorts of the men who steered the boat and manned the lines.

I delayed the next removal long enough to feel the appreciation for those male members rise in my own body. A little tingle started deep in my pussy. The tightness grew deep and higher, anticipation building with the knowledge that the eyes that were riveted to my tits and the rest of my body wanted me, now, not the "later" that the sea and wind demanded. And the sight of the growing bulges in their pants and the knowledge that we truly had to wait- a little while- started my own sex engine.

I couldn't stretch it out any longer. The strings loosened, and slowly I lifted the bikini top to reveal bronze mounds, then brown areolas, and finally the huge rosy-brown nipples that pointed skyward.

The wind from our forward progress carried sound away from my position on the bow, but their faces showed the groans that escaped them. A thrill of sexual power ran through me. My tits were, I knew, in many men's eyes the height of perfection. Bigger than a large man's hand, still full of movement but with just a tiny sag that invited a man or a roomful of men to cup and lift them. I shook them slightly, just allowing them to be free. But I could tell the effect they had on the men watching.

It's work to sail a boat. We were still in what could be considered traffic lanes, with a few other boats within sight. The men had to tear their attention from my massive mounds and attend to the constant challenge of the sea. Yet I knew that this fact would simply build the anticipation and the knowledge between all of us that at some point before we returned to this harbor, they would each have any part of my body and my sex that they desired. They'd be relieving the strain on their cocks and balls, in whatever way they wished.

As I settled back slightly and allowed the movement of the boat to shake my tits and my small but rounded belly, the men's hands were rubbing their dicks as they grew long and hard within the confines of their clothes. But quickly, as we passed into more open and empty waters, those hands moved from rubbing their erections to shedding the offending clothes.

The larger of the men was even more tanned than I, which off-set his sexy blond hair. Worn short, it showed the beginnings of curls. A strong face with green-tinged eyes matched the impossibly wide shoulders and muscled arms. The daily tasks of sailing and diving had sculpted this man in a way no gym-rat could match. Not thin, but with a chest and belly that showed he worked hard for his life on the sea and hinted that he played equally hard. His browned legs were set slightly wide apart, to naturally adapt to the rhythm of the sea. And what legs- I had appreciated them from the first moment he welcomed me aboard his boat with a nod, a widening of his eyes and a long look that appreciated my body.

One hand was on the tiller wheel. One hand moved from the large bulge in his shorts to the closure at the waist. One smooth movement and the shorts dropped from his hips. The natural movement showed that he dropped the shorts without a thought, without a care. This man sailed the Caribbean Sea freely, both in his heart and in his nudity. As soon as he shed the shorts, I forgot completely what he looked like wearing clothes. His natural state was nude, and it was clear that this was the way he lived. Wearing shorts or any clothes was a costume that he donned for "civilization", and did so as seldom as possible.

Obviously, one need he'd brave civilization for was sex. And most immediately, sex with me, long, hard and often.

The size of his cock didn't surprise me. A man who looked that massive in clothes had to have a dick that matched his muscled hips and thighs that instantly told you of his strength. This guy was all about strength. And his dick didn't disappoint me one iota. Nor was my effect on him any less than I'd dreamed of.

His cock was not 100% erect yet, which showed me that my slow build of sexual anticipation was working. He knew he was going to get fucked, and that he was going to fuck me to his heart's content. He was relishing the sight of my boobs, my browned body. And he was going to enjoy the rest of the reveal, but he also had a boat to sail and navigate. Then, once anchor was dropped, he could focus his attention on exactly how he was going to take his pleasure, make my pleasure and please his other guests at the same time.

All these thoughts streamed through my head in the time it took for his shorts to hit the deck and disappear. To my delight, I could now turn my attention to his cock. And he knew it. I had the enviable position of being the only one on the boat without responsibilities. At least, responsibilities for sailing; I was only responsible for inspiring hard dicks, urges to bury dicks deep within me and to spill cum across my body as it stretched on the warm deck. And to grow that same sexual excitement within myself, to be ready for the onslaught of the dicks that surrounded me.

The hard-on that the captain wore proudly extended at least 7 inches in its partially-erect state. Smooth and broad at the tip, it swayed on a semi-rigid stalk and grew from a set of balls larger than almost any I could remember. Looking at his balls, all I could think of was how much cum was built up to deposit in and on me. Big as my tits are, I could not imagine them able to contain all his cum if he chose to spill it across them. But I relished the thought of how much cum he could shoot into my waiting holes, and imagined it coursing hot and sticky across my tits and rolling down them, tantalizing my nips with pulses of his heat.

This dick was also not the only one rising to attention. I turned my glance, reluctantly, from this big strong man with the dick he was going to bury till it came out my mouth. The brown-haired man whose thin arms still rippled with muscles as he worked the lines had an equally impressive bulge in his tight jeans. He met my gaze as he unabashedly adjusted the growing hard-on. This guy was proud of his cock; probably too proud and sure of himself, but he too had no illusions of how this sail would end: He'd be watching as the captain took me however he chose, and then he'd do whatever his fantasies demanded. This cruise was all about fucking, and we all knew it. The men were savoring this knowledge, and their dicks were the barometers that mattered in this coming storm.

Brown-haired linesman held my gaze, then dropped his eyes to his groin, demanding that I follow his glance. He undid the grommets slowly, matching my strip-tease and daring me to enjoy it. So I obliged.

His cock sprang forth as the jeans dropped. Impressive in size, it also promised a substantial thickness as it grew more rigid under my gaze. It stood straight out, pressing forward even before his hips began a circular grind. He wanted me to imagine that grind taking place with his cock deep within me. And my imagination was following exactly the path he wanted it to.

His body was thin, almost to the point of emaciation. But under the tightly stretched skin were impressive muscles. His very tight stomach showed a classic six-pack, and his chest and arms looked strong enough to lift me and position my dripping pussy exactly where he wanted it. He slowly turned to attend to a sail line, profiling the rigid bone of his dick and rippling the arm muscles and his slender shoulders. Even the shadow being cast by the mid-day sun echoed a lengthy shaft. He would be good to fuck, and he would fuck me good.

Now eager to see if the third man was as well-endowed as his fellow crew, I turned my attention to him just as his dick sprang eagerly from the pants he was quickly shedding. This guy was totally average- average blond-going-grey hair, average build, average dick, but only if average meant a minimum of a million bucks' net worth. Everything about this guy screamed money, so the length and diameter of his cock was evidently secondary, for the women he'd hooked up with in the past, to the possibility of being kept in style. His cock was fine, OK, adequate- but the rings on his fingers, the expensive deck shoes that were all the clothing he now wore, the haircut that probably cost more every two weeks than my full wardrobe- those were the things many women saw. Whether I'd be one of them, or whether he proved my point that all men were at the core simply what nature gave them, not what they acquired- that remained to be seen.

So I've been enjoying the sights. But now, I want the attention back on me. I stretched slowly, no faster than the pace of the Caribbean vibe. Flowing like smooth molasses and fiery rum, sweet as the sugar cane that births them. I rolled my hips against the deck, knowing that I once again commanded every bit of their attention that did not have to be on running the boat, and then some!

I leaned back and lay against the deck, letting gravity shift my tits upward toward my head and pointing the pink tips to the sky. I raised my hips, setting my legs slightly apart and inviting their attention toward the shadows lying between my legs. I positioned myself intentionally ready to display the mound of my pussy, as soon as the bit of string riding the cleft in my ass and the triangle of fabric that covered just the crest of my pussy mound could be freed. Hips raised, I slipped the string free of my ass cheeks, then uncovered the center of their attention.

Not to be denied a good first look at my honey pot, the captain steered the boat slightly northward, shifting the sun to illuminate the space between my thighs. My pussy is plump, not hard but inviting. Shaved bare by my masseuse on a weekly basis, for which he is occasionally rewarded by both my "tips" and my depths too, my tanned mound glistened. Pussy lips plumped even further by the teasing excitement I was building in myself as well as the horny men surrounding me, they spread slightly to expose the very tip of my clit if someone looked very closely. And believe me, they are looking very closely.

For several minutes I relaxed there on the deck, not exactly spread-eagled, but suggestively posed to display every one of my frontal and between-the-legs charms. All the while, the tropical wind rushed past my skin, exposed fully. And fully exposed it would be for the remainder of the sail. I could feel the power of the ocean beneath me as it propelled our boat rapidly. Even this seemed sexual to me- I could feel the power of a lover as he propelled himself into me, ever deeper and deeper. I rose and fell with the deck, as I would shortly rise and fall as each man thrust into my depths and spilled his load. The sun beat on me, building heat as we would do in our fucking frenzy.

Time was passing without my noticing it. A slight cooling across my tits and belly alerted me to the presence of one of the men. Opening my eyes, I saw the sails billowed tightly on a long reach, holding the wind effortlessly and obviously freeing the captain to leave the sailing for a moment to his crew, and to attend to me.

He offered a dripping water bottle. His bare cock thrust forward, and I realized he'd been watching me doze and sun myself, and probably knew exactly how I'd been raising my own sexual tension in preparation for the coming festivities. He watched appreciatively as my tits and I rose on my elbows, and reached for the water. Since every movement was part of the day-long seductive scene, I moved languidly and sensually, exaggerating the bounce and movement of my boobs as I tipped the bottle back, lengthening my neck as I drank. I felt his hand under my tit, gliding up from my rib to explore the terrain rising up before him. He traced the circle where my breast rose from the flat of my belly with one finger, eyes fastened on the sight of my boob. His whole attention was focused on one tit, taking in every bit of flesh from the swelling point, over the globe shape and up to the point of texture and color change on my silver-dollar sized aureola. His roughened finger traced up the slope, over the swell and slowly circled the darkened ring, but never quite touching the nipple. He was teasing me too, as I'd been intentionally baiting them.

Several circles later, each one pumping blood into my swelling nipple and hardening it in a way that I could feel deep in my pussy, his finger and thumb suddenly came together, pinching my nipple sharply. I drew a deep gasp. Engorged and now tweaked, my nipple communicated directly with the center of my pussy. Under any circumstances, even in sleep or far from sex, my nipples were large and permanently protruding, they had been that way since they first began to expand on my chest. Now, being prepped for prolonged fucking, they were huge. He seemed to appreciate this, visually at first by staring with that Lazar-focus, and then measuring their amazing size by pressing his thumb nail alongside. Although his hands advertised the sheer size of his dick, if you believe that wives-tale, my nipple stood as tall as his thumbnail, and the point itself was almost as broad as the nail. I could see him take this measurement with his eyes, and they widened slightly. Even with the certainty of this sail ending in my being used for everyone's pleasure, either singly or all at once, with him as the lead fuck master, and even though he'd fantasized about my tits and my nipples as well as my pussy and ass from the minute he'd seen me in the bar and made his proposal, I could tell he was not fully prepared to see the size, shape, color and obvious excitement of my tell-tale nipple in daylight.

"Shit. I can't take this watching much longer, Asshole!" came the groan from the cockpit. There was no question that the captain was taking his leadership role seriously and would continue to lead his dick into me before the crew was allowed to join in. But the demands of sailing were trapping the crew to the wheel, while the demands of his dick were screaming to enjoy the same delights as the captain.

Momentarily distracted by the wave of testosterone and engorged-dick moaning from the cockpit, I was taken by surprise when the captain's fingers squeezing my nipple were replaced by his warm mouth clamping down over nipple, aureola and the peak of my boob. The peak was all he could fit in his mouth, although he sucked and stretched his jaw. Mouth completely filled with tit, his tongue began lapping my nip while his hands both reached around the base of this tit. He squeezed hard, pressing my boob into a steeper cone while his mouth continued to suck more and more of the warm flesh inside. His fingers pressed my tender flesh hard, and I could feel the flesh mounding between them. Suddenly, he sunk his teeth into the peak of my tit!

I yelped. I wasn't expecting that. He continued to bite, teeth deep into my soft and tender flesh. Shaking his head a bit, his tongue lapping at my nipple, he was enjoying my boobs like many men have fantasized but few have done well.

Having thoroughly lavished the first tit, he moved to the other. This time he used his other hand to squeeze, just like the first. Now two mountains of tit flesh were compressed into those cones. The rushing wind teased the nipples, and on both tits he unleashed an exquisite torrent of fingers, flicking and rubbing with practiced pressure, making sure that both nipples were constantly subjected to pressure/non-pressure. I didn't think my tits could get more engorged than they already were, nor my nipples more swollen and sensitive, but this finger movement was doing it like nothing else I'd experienced in my life. The nerve endings vibrated straight to my clit, and suddenly I exploded in a mind-losing orgasm. There was no time, no sun, no shade, and no movement of the sea. There was only the crashing explosion of sensation rushing over me. That tension that I'd built up as they watched me, and that the captain had increased with his exploration of my tits, resolved into wave upon wave of orgasmic relief.

Here I was, on display to three men, used by one to satisfy his fixation with my tits, and knowing that they would all use me in many ways before we returned to the dock. But until the orgasm finally receded, it overwhelmed everything else.

The captain was enjoying the floor show- or deck show, I guess I should say. His cock now left no doubt as to its fully-erect length. It was reaching for the sky, at least eight inches long and as big around as I'd ever seen a cock. His fingers still wrapped around my tits, he ordered the crew to "hold her on a short reach" and maneuvered his legs between mine.

I had been under the impression that we'd drop anchor somewhere secluded before they'd fuck the daylights out of me. However, the captain was obviously going to start things off long before we'd planned. The hoarseness of his voice belied his eagerness to bury that delightful dick in me, and he wasn't going to stand on ceremony.

My legs were spread with a sweep of his. I looked over at the cockpit, and saw dicks rigid and reaching, but both men had their hands entirely full of the lines and wheel, the demands of keeping the boat on a steady reach taking physical precedence over the demands of their cocks. It also crossed my mind that, hard as they were, their dicks would erupt on their own if touched by a hand, whether their own or mine. I'd have to prove that theory...

In one smooth stroke, the captain plunged that huge dick past my pussy lips, now swollen with the effects of the orgasm. I felt the large tip spread my pussy and vagina almost to the point of pain. I was so well lubricated from the explosion of juices during my orgasm that nothing hindered his entry.

Aware that his size sometimes caused a woman to tighten in pain, he held back slightly to slow his plunge. I could feel my pussy stretching and opening, as he drove deeper. The feeling of completely being filled to my limit lasted for a mere second, and then he began the withdrawal. Almost to the point of entry, he plunged again, faster this time. As the boat heeled slightly, he began to stroke in rhythm with the movement of the sea. I was pulled as tight as the sails above me, and watching them as he stroked in and out, I suddenly could not separate myself from the boat, the sails, the sea...