Yacht Parties Water Taxis And Anal

Many of you have questions about how I meet people for sex, whether I get in with swinger communities, and what the Miami night life scene is like. Its no secret that Miami is a town where people go to misbehave, do things they would never do back home, and generally take in the shameless excess the place is known for. While I have nothing against swingers, I have never enjoyed being around them. Something about the permissiveness of swinging takes the risk and danger out of it, which if you know me, you know is a big part of what excites me about cheating.

Living in Miami is quite different than being a tourist. Like tourists, many of us are transplants from somewhere, while the born and raised Miami natives tend to give us a wider birth. The community of Miami residents from outside Miami often includes people who have decided to take on the hedonism full time, and many do so as a practical aspect of their otherwise showboaty business endeavors. This crowd is very rich, and very unrestrained, but tend to keep things within their own circles. Outsiders get a glimpse of the Miami party circuit usually through a friend who is already in, provided they are ready to "add value" to the atmosphere they are wandering into. For the ladies, that means looking hot and being fun.

Looking hot means different things at different parties. Sometimes it's dressing in a formal gown with a very low cut. Sometimes it's a black cocktail dress with gold accents that doesn't permit a bra or panties. Sometimes it's the thinnest, skimpiest bikini you can find. This was a skimpy bikini occasion.

My husband was away on another one of his long business trips, and the party season was in full swing. It wasn't yet the stifling brutal heat of the summer, and being outside was still pleasant. My friend from yoga, lets call her Kim, is bubbly, in her 20s, and already a veteran of the Miami party scene. Her fiancé works for a local tech startup, but otherwise doesn't care for parties. Kim and I are very close, and have enjoyed many adventures together. Girls weekends with her are some of my favorite experiences.

Kim had been flirting with an older man she'd met at a rooftop bar in Brickell. He'd invited her to his yacht that weekend, where he was having a party. Yacht parties are fairly frequent in Miami, but Kim wanted to see where her flirtation with this man was really going. She asked me to come along, and promised we wouldn't stay too late, since she didn't want to seem too eager. Plans were made, and by 10am Saturday morning, we were both at my place getting ready for the party.

It was early when I heard the knock on the door, I could feel Kim's bouncy excitement before I even opened it. She came in beaming, with a big bag full of clothes hanging from her arm. We hugged, and she set her bag down, making a b-line for my kitchen. I heard the cork of a cold bottle of prosecco fly away, and orange juice being poured into champagne flutes shortly thereafter. I watched Kim make the mimosas, and reflected on how glad I was that we met. She was one of my first friends after moving to Miami for my husband's job, and at 26 years old, she could navigate any social situation with ease and style. Kim wore her natural blonde hair long and down, stopping at the middle of her back. Yoga had made her legs firm, and her hip bones stood out in front of her curvy waistline. She was busty, and they held up high and strong under her pronounced collar bones. Her lips grew into a white toothed smile under her cerulean blue eyes as she handed me my drink.

"Oh my god I can't believe this is finally happening!" she bubbled and beamed, her excitement infecting me, waking up my party mood.

Our glasses clinked, and I asked her what the attire for the party was going to be.

"You know how Richard is, if we want on that boat, we'll need to put on our whore uniforms," she laughed before taking a deep sip of her mimosa.

I didn't actually know much about Richard, only that he was rich, and into Kim. I did know however what she meant by a whore uniform. We took our drinks and her bag into my room to coordinate our outfits.

Kim took off the clothes she came in, and got nude in front of my standing mirror. Her body was tight and svelte with her years of yoga, her skin a sun-kissed beach sand white hue. Her nipples were hard already, and as always, I noticed they were larger than normal, about the width of my thumb. She had shaved that morning, so I knew the sort of bottoms she intended to wear would not be very substantial. I got naked myself, and joined her in the mirror. We peered at ourselves and each other in the mirror, shifting our hips and shoulders to examine every angle, deciding how best to show off that day.

While Kim was young and certainly looked the part, I was happy with the work I had done to keep myself fit and sexy. At 33, and a solid three inches shorter than Kim, I was still very much in the same class of yoga bodied party girl as she was. My light brunette hair sat in a ponytail behind my blue eyes, my hips curved wide, and my ass was firm and big on my small frame. Of course, my 34DDs held up proudly between my thin arms and smooth shoulders. I ran my hands down my flat tummy, resting them on my sides, then up my neckline, and back down across my chest. I was ready to flaunt it, and feeling mischievous.

We went through a number of different bikini styles, but ultimately settled on a strappy blue triangle top bikini with g-string bottom for her, and a mini triangle white bikini with t-string bottom for me. We put on some mesh cover dresses, and headed out the door.

We walked the short distance between my building and the waterfront, where our usual water taxi was waiting for us. It was a standard sort of Florida speedboat, with only a little more height near the controls than usual. Greg had been a boat captain up in the Carolinas before retiring to Miami, and ferrying drunk women around on the weekends. He was in his late 60s, but still dressed like he was in Vietnam, complete with cargo shorts, aviator sunglasses, and a green fatigue shirt open over his white-haired chest. He held the boat against the slip as we stepped aboard.

Kim never liked Greg, and not because he charged $100 per person to take us around, but because she thought he was a little bit of a creep. According to Kim, he'd gotten bold with another friend of ours on a ride one night, but other than that he wasn't shy about giving you a good long look all up and down. Greg didn't hesitate to do just that has we stepped aboard, prompting Kim to wrinkle her face in disgust. I handed Greg the money, and told him which yacht we were looking for.

"Oh sure honey, I've been out there twice already this morning. I know exactly where it is," Greg replied in his raspy cigar laden voice, stuffing the money into his breast pocket.

I turned around to see Kim rolling her eyes, and folding her arms at the front of the boat. Before I could return her look, Greg's voice carried over to me from behind the wheel:

"You're definitely not leaving much to the imagination there are you?" Greg chuckled, clearly referring to my ass in the t-string, which showed through my mesh cover dress.

I'd probably heard that phrase a million times by now, but before I could retort I realized that I was indeed wearing a whore uniform, so at least the effect was there. I sat next to Kim, and watched the nose of the boat push towards the open water.

The yacht wasn't far from land, anyone with strong binoculars could probably see what was going on aboard, but the relatively calm seas and gentle breeze made it feel further away as we approached. The boat bobbed on the wake of a passing ship while the yacht grew larger in our field of view. Once we were within shouting distance I could hear the music coming from the upper deck, and I could see a bit of a crowd dancing away, drinks in hand. Greg took the boat to the rear of the yacht as crewmen in white polo shirts came down to secure us. A strong young crewman with arms like mooring lines grabbed my hand, and pulled my little self up onto the aft deck. Kim got two crewman to take her out with each arm, picking her up like a doll. Once our feet touched down, Kim started in with the crew:

"I'm here to see Richard, he's expecting me. Is he in the owner's suite?" Kim, almost commanding, asked the young crewman who had helped me.

"No ma'am he's on the upper deck with the DJ," replied the crewman matter-of-factly, as if he was used to being bossed around before even being told hello.

"Great," said Kim, "lets go hun," she smiled as she grasped my hand, and took me up the side stairs like she owned the place already.

Walking into a Miami yacht party was not new to me by this point, and I was faced with many familiar scenes. The day head was being used as a powder room by two latina college girls, also in their whore uniforms. Crew members shuffled up and down levels with bottles in their hands. People who were already too inebriated with the harsh combination of rum and heavy sunshine were feeling their way along the walls. Overexcited pairs of men with cigars in hand were hanging off the railings speaking loudly about some booze fueled new business idea. Couples who had clearly just met were getting physical on sun loungers. Completely nude women and women only dressed in glitter paint, strutted about the floors. By the time Kim and I stepped onto the upper deck, I felt I'd already seen all the typical markers of a early season yacht party.

The music washed over us as we got closer to the bar, and the canopy over the path between us and the bar was a welcome relief from the cloudless day. I saw the dancefloor was full of gyrating bodies, as the DJ plucked away at his set up, all under the hot sun. Most of the not-dancing crowd were mingling by the bar under the shade. A few brave souls were lounging on the deck sofas near the rear, away from the music facing out towards the sea.

"Richard!" shouted Kim upon recognizing her quarry.

A man with curly gray hair sitting on top of his jar-like head spun around on his bar stool, red Hawaiian shirt showing off his bare, gold chain-adorned chest.

"Sweet thing!" Richard exclaimed in response, his wrinkled eyes suddenly leaping awake with excitement.

Kim leapt into his waiting arms, and kissed him on the mouth, her tight thighs gripping his left leg as her arms wrapped around his neck. The speed of it all caused the other old men at the bar to step back for a second, the general energy level having gotten a few notches higher quite suddenly. Richard's hands found Kim's mostly bare ass as he took in her kiss, and he didn't hesitate giving her a squeeze in front of everyone. Kim relinquished her man, and smiled in his face, an inch from his nose. He beamed back at her, apparently appreciating the affectionate display she had put on, raising his status even more among the other men gathered there.

They started having one of those conversations between two people who are so glad to hear from each other that other people around them start to feel like they're not even there. After watching them gush over each other awkwardly for a minute, I got a drink from the bar. The bartender was young and prompt with my champagne, topping the glass with a wedge of strawberry. I noticed that the only young men were crew and staff, all the rest of the guests were old men and young women, in typical Miami fashion. I sipped my drink, and looked at all the eyes wandering up and down my legs. Once I had enough, I touched Kim on the shoulder and talked into her ear:

"I think I'm going to find a place to put our stuff down," I half shouted over the music.

Kim gave me a quick nod as I took her bag from her shoulder, and set off towards the rear of the deck. I passed by the dancefloor, and stepped down the two or so stairs to the area with the couches. There was no one in this section at the moment, and the slightly lower elevation dampened the music a little. I put our stuff down at the rearmost couch that faced away from everything, overlooking the ocean, and my sudden distance from the party prompted a little moment of introspection.

Every now and then I'll be in the middle of something, sort of in the zone, and suddenly I'll become highly self aware. These moments strike hard and leave about as fast as they come on, where I'm just totally aware of the craziness of the situation I'm in. Sometimes it's when I'm sitting at the beach, sometimes at the store, sometimes with a stranger's cock in my mouth, but each time it's just a realization that I'm acting in such a different way than I would have ever expected of myself.

"What on earth am I doing here?" I asked quietly inside my head. I looked at my bikini bottom, the only significant part of which was a thin strip of white nylon barley covering my pussy lips, and my bikini top, with it's triangles barely covering my areolas. "I look ridiculous," I thought.

I looked out across the sea while this sinking feeling gripped me, not like guilt or fear, but a feeling of being out of place, lost maybe, or simply mismatched. Like a spoon in a sock drawer or something. I was a long way away from the small town girl I started as, and in that moment I was very much reminded of that fact.

I decided that the only way out was through, and that I would deal with my misgivings later. I instinctively looked over my shoulder to find Kim; I knew I would need to absorb some of her energy if I was to enjoy this party for what it was. I saw her on the dancefloor with Richard, who was putting his tongue in her mouth and pawing her perky ass. I watched his fingers curling under the cleft of his plaything's buttcheeks, and his thumbs caressing the dimples of her lower back. I decided to get near them, took off my mesh cover dress, and then walked onto the dance floor.

I've never been much of a dancer, but the sunshine and the drink from earlier were making it easier to start swaying my hips as I sauntered over to Kim, who was still rubbing herself against Richard as the music thumped on. I lightly ran my nails down Kim's back to let her know I was there. She finally broke contact with Richard's mouth and turned around. She cheered, and started dancing towards me. She was a much more fluent dancer, and knew exactly how to make her curves and yoga instructor body into a show of real feminine sensuality. She started rubbing herself against me and we each put an arm around the other. I felt her energy giving me life again. I danced, and rubbed myself against Kim face to face under the hot sun and vibrating air. Our breasts pressed against each other, our hands running up and down each other's sides. I felt our pussies touch for a brief second, and I felt another jolt of energy throughout my body.

Richard did his best to push himself against Kim's rear as we danced, and the music took a higher tempo. The moving bodies, the hot sun, the flowing drinks, and the pulsing music started to combine in my senses until I was in a trance like state, all higher thought replaced by pure sensation. Richard began tugging at Kim's waist, trying to spin her around to face him again, and she winked at me before resuming her spot in Richard's arms.

Again I found myself a bit of a third wheel watching them kiss, but I was enjoying my trance, and kept shaking my hips while letting my chest heave about. Suddenly I felt the strangest combination of sensations all at once, and before I could register what had happened, I was firmly in the grip of a man I'd never even seen before. He had danced up behind me, and in one swift motion he cupped my tits, nibbled my ear, and trust his speedo-encased hard-on between my legs, his cockhead brushing against my barely covered pussy lips as it passed. The daftness and boldness of the action added a strong layer of excitement to my trance. I started pushing my practically naked ass back against him, his stiff cock sliding along my pussy lips as we grinded on each other. He released one of my tits, used his now free hand to tilt my chin back towards him, and placed his tongue in my mouth. I took it in, and pushed my own tongue back into his mouth; his mouth being oddly warmer than I was expecting. He kept thrusting his erection between my legs, rhythmically with the music, and each pass rubbed my clit a little closer to the orgasm that was building. I didn't have a good look at this man yet, but I could feel his wedding ring as he slid his hand along my side, grasping me just above my hip, and pulling me towards him from behind.

The music thumped louder, the sun beat down hotter, and this man's cock thrusted faster until I was completely over simulated and started cumming right there on the dance floor. My knees clamped together and I hunched over slightly, squeezing the man's cock as I let the orgasm pass over me. I pressed my lips together tightly to stop from crying out, even though no one would hear me. I stopped dancing, and just sort of held that position until the orgasm had fully passed.

At this point I relinquished my thighs grip on the man, and I turned around to get a good look at him. He was easily in his 60s with graying hair and a disappointingly homely face. He had a seriously overdone tan, and was wearing nothing but the lime green speedo that was still struggling to contain his erection. He had very square, oven mitt-like hands, and a large hairy gut that had been pushing into my back while we danced. He gave me this triumphant look, like a boy who was waiting to deliver the punchline to a joke, which let me know he knew he'd brought me to orgasm in front of everyone in the middle of the dancefloor. This might have been more of a victory if anyone was watching, but everyone else was caught in their own trances, and seemed to have not noticed. He stepped closer and put one of those mitts on the small of my back to pull me in, and I found myself sucking on his tongue once more, while we danced face to face. He got a big unrepentant squeeze of my ass, and I could smell that his cologne had been defeated by his sweat. His nasally breathing and slightly sour taste let me know he'd done at least a little cocaine recently, and the relish with which he was enjoying my body only confirmed my suspicions.

I carried on dancing with this guy, the trance coming and going until I noticed that Kim and Richard were leaving. I imagined they were heading towards the owners suite for some alone time. My desire to be on the dancefloor left with them, and I broke away from the man's grip, gave him a smile, and walked towards the sitting area.

Once I was back in front of my bag I regained some self awareness, and felt a bit weak kneed about having just cum in public with a fat old guy I didn't know. My skin was warm to the touch, so I got out some coconut oil to help with the sun. I'd gotten the first bit of oil across my arms when I noticed the guy from the dancefloor was right behind me, sitting on couch next to my bag, and grinning.

The first thing I noticed was that we weren't the only people in the sitting area anymore; two men were sitting closer to the dancefloor, talking and facing away from us. I looked at him, and wondered what possessed him to follow me, but then I saw that his dick was still hard under his speedo. He gestured at me to come sit on his lap, and he rubbed one hand across the opposite arm indicating he'd help me apply coconut oil. I sighed and rolled my eyes but I sat on his big lap, giving him the bottle as I did.

He oiled up his hands and started in on my shoulders and neck, running a big finger behind each ear to be thorough. His hands slid oil over my back and tummy, my sides and hips. He gave extra attention to my legs and inner thighs, which glistened with oil. Eventually his hands found their way to my bikini strings, which he undid, letting my top fall to the deck, and exposing my bare breasts to the sea air. His hands worked my breasts, and his big fingers rolled my nipples between them. I was horny at this point, and started wiggling my ass in his lap. His gut was too big while he was sitting to really get good contact between my ass and his cock, so I leaned forward to accommodate.