When Angela had gone forward with the sandwiches for her husband and Callum, Nat had prepared himself for a sudden confrontation should she decide to tell her husband that she had just been raped. Not only had Nat armed himself with a 25 centimetre filleting knife from the galley, but he had also armed himself with the short spear-gun from the rack beside the port settee he'd been sleeping on.
Although only vaguely familiar with spear-guns, he nonetheless had worked out the simple mechanism quickly and drawn back the surgical rubber loop to the second notch on the spear to maximize the weapon's power -- he'd also cut the line that would normally be used to retrieve the spear when discharged underwater -- this he felt would give him better range on the yacht.
And then he'd waited with his back against the forward bulkhead facing the companionway hatch -- the most likely approach of Ross should he rush him in a fit of rage.
Silently, he listened to the muffled voices on the bow as Angela spoke with the two men who'd been busy working on the yacht's anchor winch. He could just imagine the look on Ross's face as he learnt what had just happened to his pretty wife. He felt a surge of adrenalin when he pictured Ross with a spear embedded in his chest when he came for him in his anticipated but foolhardy retribution. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Nat eyed the weapon of his choice -- he was unsure if it would kill Ross cleanly, but if need be, he planned to quickly dispatch him with the filleting knife -- a calculated slash across the jugular should do that.
Of course, a thought had crossed his mind to take the offensive and go topsides to spear Ross regardless of whether Angela told him what had just happened to her. But he had discounted this for two simple reasons. Naturally he was looking forward to fucking the arse off Angela again soon -- and his threats earlier of hurting her husband should she try to resist him certainly paid off; the second reason was of a more practical nature -- he needed Ross to sail the yacht for him a little longer -- at least until he himself had picked up some more of the fundamentals of sailing.
Nat heard footsteps on the side deck -- he could see thru the cabin port-lights Angela's smooth, tanned calves as she made her way aft to the cockpit.
Feigning sleep, Nat listened intently to Angela as she stepped down the companionway into the main cabin. He heard her take a deep breath, followed by the sound of the aft cabin door closing.
He waited several minutes longer -- totally focusing on the sound of the two men on the bow. Nat wondered if she had warned her husband -- Nat also wondered about the loyalty of his jailbird friend, young Callum. What side of the fence would he sit on, should it be necessary to take on Ross? It was plainly obvious to Nat that his young artistic accomplice had more than a passing fondness for Angela now since she modelled for him. Just how would the young man take it should he know that Angela had just been raped by his older friend?
Nat surmised that had Angela warned her husband, perhaps she had been told to lock herself in the sturdy little aft cabin prior to any confrontation -- he was sure that Ross had several screwdrivers and a hammer to arm himself, along with either of the sturdy winch handles in the cockpit. Nat knew that he had only one shot with the spear-gun too -- and although very fit, Nat conceded that Ross was several years younger and also quite fit-looking!
But was Ross capable of containing the rage he would now feel should he know that his wife had just been violated? Could he contain it long enough to plan an attack of his own? And besides -- did Ross have the courage to take him on?
Some ten minutes had passed since Angela had gone to her cabin. Nat could wait no longer -- he'd made a decision. Should Angela's cabin door be locked from the inside he would take it as an indication that perhaps she was indeed hiding herself from a pending confrontation. Nat would then take the offensive -- he would surprise Ross from the forward hatch in the vee-berth where he had an opportunity to shoot him at almost point-blank range! He would take his chances with sailing the yacht without Ross's expertise -- besides, Angela certainly seemed a proficient sailor at least!
A wry smile crossed Nat's face. With Ross out of the way, he could then do with her as he pleased -- and when he pleased! Then maybe in a week or so -- or maybe even a month's time -- once they had entered the myriad of small islands of the archipelago and if their stocks ran low, he would prostitute her for fuel and food if need be. Or if the price was right -- he'd sell her to one of the brothels he guessed existed there -- he couldn't imagine that there would be too many attractive blonde western women available to the natives in those parts!
Nat was psyched up for it now -- a surge of adrenalin coursed thru his veins. Raising himself from the settee, he placed the loaded spear-gun under a towel on the table and he took a couple of steps aft till he faced the cabin door. Placing his hand on the doorhandle -- he tried it slowly...
The handle moved downward freely, making a soft audible click -- it was unlocked!
Just before he pushed the door open, he had a sudden vision of Angela hiding herself behind it with a knife -- waiting for him. Nat withdrew the filleting knife from the band of his shorts and standing sideways to make a smaller target, he opened the door inwards...
Nat sniggered to himself as he peered into the small dim cabin -- he needn't have worried himself by the looks of things -- quite the contrary!
Just near the open doorway lying on the cabin sole was Angela's discarded sarong -- and to the left of it lay her bikini bottoms. Nat shook his head in disbelief -- there on the small neat bed, face downwards, laid Angela -- completely naked!
The tension of a pending fight waned almost immediately. Stooping slightly, Nat stepped inside the cabin and quietly closed the door behind him -- snibbing the lock at the same time.
Angela didn't move a muscle. Her small, delicate feet were closest to Nat, her ankles some thirty centimetres apart. Nat let his eyes wander up from her feet, along the backs of her calf-muscles and toward her shapely thighs -- not a blemish anywhere he could see -- they were beautifully toned and tanned and her womanly hips flared out nicely. Her waist cinched in to a diameter that Nat could come close to encircling with his hands if he tried. Apart from a small, pale scar about fifteen millimetres long midway up her back and to the left of her spine, and but for a few freckles here and there, her back was a very attractive feature too -- firm and tanned of course -- it vee'd outward to her athletic shoulders that were now partially covered by her long blonde ringlets splayed out in all directions.
Nat diverted his gaze back downward to her buttocks -- to him they represented perfect symmetry. Her orbs were full and round -- the cleft between them a paler shade of an otherwise lightly tanned overall appearance -- she obviously sun-baked wearing a G-string on occasion.
With her legs slightly parted as they were, Nat could just make out the smooth, darkish pink of her engorged pudenda -- the delicate folds of her inner labia just peeking out from her small slit like the bright pink petals of a blossoming flower...
In Nat's mind, everything about her screamed to him to fuck her again!
And with that thought his cock hardened rapidly. Still without a word spoken between them, he untied his board-shorts and let them drop to the cabin sole, close to Angela's sarong. He too was now naked -- and his cock jutted out rampantly at a virile forty five degree angle!
Moving closer, Nat sat on the foot of the bed and reached toward her -- he felt her tremble briefly as he touched her right calf with the palm of his left hand. Resting his hand there for several moments -- she didn't move a muscle. Encouraged, he gradually worked his hand up along the back of her leg -- caressing her thigh in a series of exploratory figure-eight circles.
Soon his hand is running back and forth along her right buttock -- Angela doesn't so much as flinch when his fingers trace the cleft between her buttocks, downward until his fingertips flick over her budding pink flower...
Nat's tender touch is now somewhat ironic, considering how he had taken her earlier. With his palm now facing her pudenda, he uses his middle finger to slowly work her open. What seems almost reflexive to his touch, Angela bent her left knee, drawing her foot up the bed and parting her thighs wider at the same time -- effectively giving Nat's probing fingers greater access to her moist slit.
Moments pass quietly -- just the waves against the hull and the rigging creaking occasionally -- and barely discernable squelches from between Angela's thighs as his fingers explore her, gradually working her pliant flesh open...
With her face still buried in the crook of her folded arms, she softly grunts for but a moment, just as Nat's calloused digit slipped into her vagina. Ever so slowly, it glided in and out -- soon a sweet, musky aroma began to waft thru the still air of the cabin.
He lowered his face to her buttocks -- and nibbling lightly on her firm flesh, he continued to finger her. Soon he withdrew his slickened finger from within her, and then with both hands, he pulled her buttocks apart to expose her brown bud. Moments later he was running his tongue from side to side, downward toward her beckoning anus...
