๐Ÿ“š all-at-sea Part 2 of 3
all-at-sea-2
MATURE SEX

All At Sea 2

All At Sea 2

by smflint2021
19 min read
4.71 (22700 views)
adultfiction

We raised our glasses, "To us," I said, before clinking with Ellen. My wife's glass slipped in her tipsy hand and spilled half its contents onto the crisp white linen tablecloth. "Careful love, that's 10 bob's worth of champagne at these prices!"

"But how much is it costing us Oliver?"

We paused, then both said, "Nothing," and started laughing.

She'd entered competitions and quizzes for years and only ever won a few household items, but three months ago Ellen scooped the big one; a week's all expenses paid, first class cruising in the Caribbean. We'd cruised before so we thought we knew what to expect, but the entire experience from the chauffeur driven ride to the airport, unlimited baggage, turning left when boarding the plane and sleeping in a proper bed in the sky, made it feel so different. The rich did what we did, just better.

Our suite on the ship was the size of the downstairs of our house. We felt a bit intimidated by one or two passengers we met at breakfast on the first day. Typical Brits with a bit of wedge who want to work out if they are above, or below you in the pecking order. I didn't want that crap on holiday, so I requested we should not be seated with Brits. We ate with Brazilians, Japanese, Germans, Mexicans and Americans; none of whom were interested in how we could afford to be travelling first class. Our confidence restored, the garden designer and his school administrator wife sat in our evening wear in the fine dining supper restaurant on our second night at sea.

A glamorous group of couples occupied the circular table at the end of the intimate restaurant. A Spanish man had been holding court most of the evening. My view of him was obscured by the corpulent American opposite him. I caught occasional glimpses of his stunning wife as she leaned over to reach for wine and water. The first time I saw her I thought she was a famous Spanish actress who had been with the famous American actor with almost the same surname. I liked her because she seemed intelligent, funny, interesting, and unconcerned about her beauty. The second time I could see it was not her, but she could have been her screen double. Her eyes caught mine, and I looked away embarrassed. I realised she must get so much crass gawping. By now I was sure her husband was a famous Spanish actor, my wife's favourite. We had not seen him in anything lately. A younger generation of leads were taking roles he had 10 years ago. These days he did character parts and voice overs for animations, but he was still genuine A list material.

My wife had her back to the group, and had not seen him. I said nothing because I did not want her acting as crassly as I had. But along with everyone else she heard his slurred voice say; "I will wager $10,000 dollars that I can name all seven James Bond's in the right order." "All seven?" queried his fat guest, glancing up from the plunging bodice of his dinner companion. At that moment, the actor's wife leaned into my view for more water and I tried to get her attention. She looked up and was about to look away when I shook my head and held up six fingers. She looked puzzled, so I held them up again. The woman understood. I mimed writing. I did it again, and she caught on. "Hurry with the wine Lola, we are all thirsty," said her husband.

She sat down again. "Jose, everyone knows there are only six actors who have played James Bond." The American groaned." But can you name them all and remember the dates? Just for fun. I'll even help you, when I get back from the ladies' room."

I pulled the dessert menu out of its holder and scribbled on the back and folded it small. She reached my table by the time I'd finished. I accidentally knocked a napkin on the floor and she stooped to pick it up. I put the folded paper in her hand. Our eyes met. She was stunning close up. "Are you sure?" she said, sounding nervous. "Trust me," I replied. She nodded and went out to the toilet.

Lola returned as Ellen opened her eyes from a little doze. My wife is a lightweight drinker. She looked at Lola as she passed. "Oliver, you let me fall asleep. Is she that actress you like?"

"No love, but she looks very much like her."

The group had shuffled around in their seats and now I could see her husband. They sat down and the American reminded them of the wager, and they all filled in the names and dates of actors who had played James Bond on paper furnished by their attentive waiter.

My answers to Lola said,

To date, six actors have portrayed James Bond in the official series. They are:

Sean Connery (1962-1967; 1971)

George Lazenby (1969),

Roger Moore (1973-1985),

Timothy Dalton (1987-89),

Pierce Brosnan (1995-2002),

Daniel Craig (2006-Present).

A signed menu from your husband to my wife, Ellen would be nice.

Sorry for gawping

Oliver.

I hoped she had a good memory for facts. She let him fill in his own answers, then replaced them with hers. The maรฎtre d' was summoned and did not flinch at the request for a set of envelopes and a tablet computer. The entries were sealed and when the tablet arrived a website was agreed upon and the answers checked. Surprise, surprise, Jose and Lola were the winners. She glanced up and smiled at me. That was the cue for their dinner party to break up. Several couples were turning in, but Jose buoyed by his success was keen on the nightclub. When they had a private moment, I saw Lola lean over and whisper in his ear and he looked in our direction. My wife was more sober now and clocked him. "Oliver, do you know who that is?" she said with her eyes on stalks. I watched him scribble something, and moments later a waiter was at our table with a bottle of Tattinger and a signed menu bearing the inscription:

'

To Ellen, a beautiful and clever lady. With my love and thanks.'

๐Ÿ“– Related Mature Sex Magazines

Explore premium magazines in this category

View All โ†’

Jose de Marquez

Ellen's face was a picture of shock and surprise and when they stopped on their way out, he kissed her hand and said, "You shall be my special guests at dinner soon." She all but swooned. While they were distracted, Lola mouthed the words, 'I said it was her,' and I nodded and smiled. She had been clever. Lola knew he would not take advice from a man who had shown interest in his wife.

Back in our room, I put Ellen in the picture. "Come here, you clever man." She was keen on ending the night with sex. The drink and meeting her heart throb had worked their magic, and she straddled and rode me with more enthusiasm than either of us had shown in a long time. "The lovely Eeenglish lady," I said in a terrible impersonation of his accent, while reaching up to squeeze her tits.

She tutted. "Okay, maybe he aroused me a little. But don't tell me you don't wish she was sitting across you now." My body betrayed me and I felt my cock grow an extra inch in both directions. "You, cheeky bastard," said Ellen. "Isn't that strange, our celebrity shags are a married couple, and they have invited us to dinner?"

I was enjoying my wife's arousal. "What would you do if you had the chance to sleep with him?" I asked. Her fanny muscles contracted and a small groan slipped from her lips. "I see" I said. Our love making became more frantic, thrashing into each other thinking of the couple we lusted over. Ellen started to come, but twisted her hips and said, "Get on top quickly, Oliver." We spun around without disconnecting, and I thrust into her with deep strokes as if I were trying to nail her to the bed. Ellen lost control. "Fuck me as hard as you can, fuck my cunt!" She disliked the c word normally, so this and the stream of lesser obscenities coming out of her drove me over the edge and I spurted into her several times. She came on my third spurt, which drew another two from me. I rolled off gasping for breath and she leaned over and kissed me. "Oh, Si Signor," she giggled. I didn't know if she was praising me or our phantom partners.

I woke in the night with Ellen's hand wrapped around my hard cock. We fucked wordlessly. The pitch blackness of the cabin gave license to our imaginations. The familiar geography of each other's bodies transformed in my mind by images of Juan and Lola. I suspected the same thing was going on in Ellen's head. All the permutations flashed through my thoughts. Watching Juan and Lola fucking; them watching us; then Juan fucking Ellen while Lola rode me. I felt a mixture of jealousy and pervy pleasure at imagining her being used by him, and contentment at her happiness at doing something she always dreamed of. As I came again, Lola's face appeared below me in the throes of passion. Afterwards, we lay silent and locked together in the darkness. Coming to terms with our mental adultery.

Ellen gasped. "We've been together for 20 years Oliver and I've never known it like that before."

"I know, I know. I can't explain it either."

We hugged, unable to make sense of the emotions and too exhausted to try. We fell into the deep sleep of the well fucked.

Next morning, I left Ellen asleep and went to the gym to quell my thoughts from the night before with honest muscle work. My job kept me outdoors and active, so my body expected regular physical activity. I walked into the empty gym and got on the treadmill. I saw her stretching on an exercise mat wearing yoga pants and an off the shoulder baggy tee-shirt. She looked like the girl in that film, Flashdance. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing in a yoga pose. It was a face that gave you pleasure from looking at it. I could not look away. She opened her eyes, and they widened in surprise.

I apologised. "Sorry, you caught me staring again. It's a bad habit."

"It's okay," Lola said, "You don't look at me like most men do."

"How is that?" I asked.

"You know how," she smiled.

"You don't look like her close up, you know?"

"Like who?" she asked.

"You know who," I said. "Your face is more elfin, your mouth more sensual, and your neck is longer. God how she must envy you."

We both laughed.

Lola tucked a stray hair into her hairband. "We met once. She was in a film with my husband. He was having difficulty with the role. I came to the set one day and she could see the problem straight away. `He thinks he is acting with his wife.' She asked if I had ever acted. My father is a baker, we are ordinary people. She said if Juan was going to get the relationship right for the film, our relationship at home had to be sympathetic to it. She gave me copies of her costumes and a run through of her character in the film. We went home together, and she did some normal things around the house like her character would, and I tried to copy them. I asked how she would do it as herself and they were different again. I was amazed. It's called acting, she said."

"Do you remember any of it?" I asked.

She got off the mat. "Would you like a glass of water?" she asked.

She walked to the cooler, filled a plastic glass and brought it to me. She did it twice more, but each time was different.

"The first one was her character in the film. The second was you and the third was her for real?"

"Yes, that's right, "Lola said, beaming. "How did you guess?"

"I didn't have to. You are a better actress than you think." She blushed at my corny line.

Lola joined me on the treadmills, and we started strolling. "Thank you for your help last night, Oliver. Jose makes crazy bets when he has been drinking. You would not believe the money he has lost on such wagers." She realised she had said too much.

๐Ÿ›๏ธ Featured Products

Premium apparel and accessories

Shop All โ†’

I reassured her. "What you say to me goes nowhere else, and I mean that." She smiled her thanks.

We walked in silence for a while, then she asked how I knew all that stuff about James Bond.

"Can you keep a secret, Lola?" She frowned.

"I am a landscape gardener; my wife is a school secretary. We live in a tiny house. Our lives are very ordinary. We enter quizzes and competitions and we won this all expenses paid cruise. The James Bond question is popular in pub quizzes. Once you know the answer, it is just a case of remembering it for the next time."

She smiled and clapped her hands together. "Bravo, bravo. I knew you were real people, like me."

I smiled, and she explained.

Lola and Jose had been childhood sweethearts, but his parents sent him to a stage school in Madrid when he was eleven and they lost contact. Lola was going to art school but had to take over her father's bakery when he had a heart attack. She was only 17. She saved the business and by 25 had opened a cafe, a pizza restaurant and a patisserie.

Jose returned to Spain having spent five years trying to break America, but it broke him. He was a mess. Drugs, drink, woman and poor advice had ruined his career. He begged her to marry him and she refused. She made him work for a year in the pizza restaurant to get him back to real life. She also made him get counselling for his addictions. A year later he got a role in a Spanish film which was a worldwide success. He persuaded her to marry him and let her relatives look after the business. They moved to Hollywood. During 10 crazy years in America, he made a fortune in films and lost it to the IRS, gambling and terrible investments. Jose could not readjust to living modestly, so Lola cleverly negotiated a series of celebrity endorsements, and now they spent half the year staying in resorts, hotels, and ships like this one.

"It must be hell," I joked.

Her face turned sad. "Oliver, I am not an actor. To pretend to like people for money, like those people last night, does not come easy to me. And when Jose does something stupid like his bets, it is very stressful." She was tearful. I stopped her jogger and mine. I took her hand to help her off, and she stumbled into my arms. I wanted to kiss her, but just held her until she recovered her composure.

"I'm sorry Lola. I didn't think your life was like a bird in a gilded cage." She looked puzzled, so I explained the expression.

"You understand, Oliver." We realised I was still holding her, and I let go self-consciously.

She sighed. "I would give up this life if I had other options."

"You have options Lola; you are a beautiful and intelligent woman. But you love him and he loves you; but he also loves all this," I said, spreading my hands to encompass the ship, the lifestyle and everything else.

Lola nodded. "I have to go. Thank you for listening to me, Oliver. I'll remind Jose of his promise when he is sober. We will have dinner before the cruise is over."

"We will look forward to that Lola," She left the gym. I watched her perfect arse all the way to the end of the corridor.

I sat in the steam room thinking about our encounter. Last night I lusted after Lola because she reminded me of a fantasy woman on the screen. After meeting the actual person, I wanted her for who she was. Even worse, I cared about her predicament, living in a celebrity bubble. Lola must be desperate if she'd open up to a nobody like me. She'd built a life, but put it on hold to support her husband's career and fragile ego. Although most people would not see her gilded cage as a hardship; being on duty with Jose and performing for his paymasters, meant she had little time for herself. I told myself; it was none of my business, but I could not get it out of my head.

That had been my problem with women when I was younger. 'You would get laid much more if you did not worry about liking them,' said my mate Jack, who never passed on an opportunity. I changed over the years and my work, first as a gardener and then a landscape designer, meant I got my fair share of offers from the lady of the house while hubby was out at work earning the dough to pay for my services.

The first time it happened was when I planted trees and built raised flower beds at a swanky property in the stockbroker belt. They had a summer house and the wife Angela wanted decking to sunbathe on. It was an extra week's work to prepare the ground and build a platform and stairs, but I did a good job. When I went to collect my money, I entered through the garage as usual to avoid dirtying the carpet. A hand waved at me from the deck, obscured by the large planters I had placed there the day before.

Angela was lying on a sun lounger wearing not much of a bikini. She was in good nick for a woman in her forties. I admired her body. "Well, at least you appreciate me," she slurred. I looked down at the pronounced erection in my shorts. I was only eighteen, with the lack of control you have at that age. My face turned red, and I mumbled embarrassed apologies, which she shushed away as she sat up and made me to sit on the lounger next to her.

"You've done a superb job Oliver, but I need one more piece of carpentry." I looked puzzled as she poured me a glass of wine. "I want to you to make a name plate for this place, I'm calling it Penance. This summer house is my husband's atonement gift, because I caught him shagging his twenty-five-year-old secretary. Do you know he'd been banging her for over a year before I arrived at the office to surprise him with a lunch date? I got a bigger surprise than either of us bargained for." Angela sniffed.

I said I was sorry he'd upset her, and she seemed lovely to me. She ruffled my hair and pulled my head towards her. Angela kissed me passionately, her tongue busy in my mouth. Her hands were at the buttons of my shirt and by the time we came up for air, my chest was bare. She felt behind her and unhooked the bra of her bikini and her heavy breasts fell out, but they hardly sagged. I took one in each hand, enjoying their weight before moving my mouth from one thick, brown nipple to the other. She watched me as I worked enthusiastically. She lifted my chin and said, "I've got your cheque in the summer house."

I took her hand and followed her in. The cheque sat on the table but Angela reclined on the chaise long, staring at me. I got her invitation and pulled off my shorts and pants in one go. My cock sprang up, the head purple and urgent. A tear of juice appeared in the eye and it dripped on the floor, staining the unvarnished timber. "I see there is some woodwork I can do," Angela giggled and grasped my cock. She took me in her mouth and her tongue teased another two inches out of me. Her long-nailed fingers gently scratched the back of my balls while the little finger of her other hand ran up and down the crack of my arse and teased my bum hole. No woman had done anything like that to me before, and I was jelly in her hands. She lay back and pulled me over her, capturing my cock between her breasts and I fucked her warm flesh. As the head appeared between the cleavage, she leaned forward and gave it a lick. Angela knew tricks none of my shy girlfriends would ever consider.

"Your husband is an idiot," I said. "Why would he mess around elsewhere, when this was waiting for him at home?"

She released my cock and pulled my head forward. There were tears in her eyes as she kissed me. "You don't know what it means to hear you say that. Now fuck me hard, Oliver." I entered her, and she was surprisingly tight for having had two children. Angela spurred me on with endearments, and when we reached the point of no return, they became vulgar commands. "Fuck my pussy; fill me with your spunk." The filthy language coming from her posh mouth did it. I could not hold back and flooded her, taking her over the edge with me.

We rested, then resumed and spent the rest of the day fucking leisurely, enjoying each other's bodies. When it was time to leave, I dressed and picked up the cheque. "I feel guilty taking this after all you have given me."

"It is only money," Angela said. "To be appreciated by a younger man is something I can't put a price on." I looked at her lying naked on the chaise long and realised I'd want her again soon. She must have seen it in my face. "Oliver, we are saying goodbye before either of us makes foolish promises neither can keep."

Enjoyed this story?

Rate it and discover more like it

You Might Also Like