Of course, I knew I wouldn’t be the real captain of the luxury super-yacht. I was too old and inexperienced, being in my late 60s, even if I am in pretty good shape for my age. But apparently my skill set was perfect, my customer service second to none (you’d better believe that part) and the owner – a very close friend of mine – decided that, as long as we had someone at the controls, doing the difficult stuff of driving (do you drive ships?), then I could be Captain-at-Large, in charge of crew and hosting and making sure the charters were unforgettable for the high-paying guests. Consider it done. And what a way to spend the summer!

I arrived in Palma de Mallorca, where our boat, The Maiden, was to set sail from, a few days before our first charter. My English skin was a little too English for my liking and it seemed that a day or two of lazing by a rooftop pool, gathering my strength and erasing any tan-lines, would be the best sort of preparation. Besides, there was a crew to select, a boat to inspect and parties to organise. I like being ready. It’s my thing.

The hotel in the centre of town – Palma is beautiful! – was ideal. Luxurious (thanks to the boat owner for footing the bill!) with a beautiful pool. Checking in, the debonair manager, all razor-sharp navy suit and slicked-back black hair, greeted me personally before handing me over to Juan, the unexpectedly blond bell-boy, who I would put at 19 or twenty, who was to take me to my suite. I felt a little self-conscious about not looking my best in such beautiful company after my flight but after I noticed Juan steal a look at my breasts and then my hips and then my legs in their high wedges, I felt a little better about myself because Juan was nothing if not a looker: around six feet, broad of chest, bronzed of skin with a sweet smile that seemed genuine though I guessed he had to turn it on and off at will. And I loved the uniform he had to wear: tight across the buttocks and the crotch with a shirt made of cotton so fine I could see his large brown nipples through it.

I followed him along the glossy corridors of the hotel, watching those buttocks as he strode ahead of me, looking back to flash me one of those smiles every once in a while, maybe catching my eyes on his beautiful little backside. When we got to the suite, he opened the door with his key card and stood back to let me pass, leaving me to use one of my signature moves, which is to ‘accidentally’ graze my rather prominent behind across a young man’s crotch to see if it gets any reaction. I apologised and giggled and looked down to find that there was quite a nice improvement in what already looked like a treat and a half.

‘Not to worry, Madame,’ he said, blushing just ever so slightly as he ushered me in and introduced me to my suite. ‘The air conditioning controls are here. There is a bottle of champagne, courtesy of the manager here on ice. The mini-bar is here under the desk…’ he bent over to open it, giving me another look at the buttocks. ‘And the bathroom is through here…’

I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty-euro note, quite a lot for just bringing me to my suite, but I figured the boy deserved it, just for the way he looked and the way he blushed. ‘Oh, thank you so much, Madame,’ he said, the accent just Spanish enough to be extra sexy. ‘Please do let me know if there’s anything you need.’

‘Anything?’ I said, sauciness all over my face.

‘Erm…’ That blush again. ‘Yes, Madame, anything.’ And he left, leaving me feeling like things had got off to a very good start. I opened the bottle, poured myself a glass and started to undress. It was just as I had climbed out of my dress and was in nothing but bra and panties – white and lacy because you should always wear something sexy when travelling – the doorbell sounded. I was about to climb back into the dress, but thought if I just peeked around the door, there was no need.

It was Juan. ‘Oh, Madame,’ he said. ‘This is the last of your suitcases. Shall I bring it in?’

I was about to say that it was OK, I could manage, then thought, Why not give the young man something to tell his colleagues about? So I stood back, opened the door wide and saw the look of surprise pass across his face to be replaced a moment later with the deepest blush yet.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Madame, I didn’t realise…’ I don’t know what he didn’t realise but I enjoyed the moment as he passed in front of me, looking slyly at my breasts, the shape of me in my little panties and down my legs to my wedges as he brought the case in.

‘Thank you, Madame,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Madame,’ he went on. ‘Erm, nice…’

I wondered what on earth he was going to say.

‘Nice shoes, Madame,’ he said, then flashed me one of those smiles accompanied by a wink just to let me know it wasn’t the shoes.

‘Well, I’m glad you have an eye for nice things,’ I said, returning the smile and the wink and ‘absent-mindedly’ pulling out the waistband of the panties just far enough that he could see I was shaved down there. At which he blushed so furiously that I thought he might pass out before escaping back into the corridor, with just a look over his shoulder at me standing at the door to my suite, the champagne glass to my lips.

With a smile that wouldn’t come off my face no matter how furiously I showered, I put on my white and gold bikini – way too young for me, but if your butt hasn’t gone to hel,l then why not? – some sunscreen oil in my hair, which I then slicked back, oversized sunglasses and the robe from the bathroom and headed to the roof.

The pool was tiny and there was just one couple up there, way too involved with flirting with each other to notice me take a sun lounger, spread out the blue and white striped towel that was rolled up on it and take my place, looking out over the city to the sea. While I was looking in my bag for my book, a shadow fell across me. I looked up, lowered my sunglasses to see Juan, a tray in his hand and that smile on his face.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘You’re up here as well?’

‘We take turns,’ said Juan, now barefoot and dressed in the pool uniform of a white T-shirt and disappointingly baggy white shorts. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

I looked past him to see the tiniest little bar, which was unmanned. ‘I can make you anything you like,’ he went on, clearly the barman as well as the waiter.

‘I’ll have a piña colada, if you know how to make one,’ I said.

‘I know how to make all the cocktails, Madame,’ he said, giving me another blast of the smile.

‘Don’t call me Madame, Juan,’ I said. ‘It’s Marianne.’

‘OK, Marianne. One piña colada – made with love – coming up.’ And he sauntered over to the bar from where I could hear ice rattling, drinks being poured and finally the buzz of the blender while I dipped myself in the pool, just to freshen up and because I knew full well that it would make my bikini see-through. Back on my lounger, I patted down with another towel and started to put sun cream on my legs. Soon enough, the shadow was back and I heard a plastic cocktail glass being placed on the little table by my lounger.

‘Can I help you with that, Mada… Marianne?’ he said, the voice deep for a man still maybe in his teens. I was about to say that I was OK t,hen caught myself.

‘Oh, if you don’t mind. I hate putting this stuff on.’

He took the bottle, squeezed some of the lotion into his hands and, sitting down on the lounger next to mine, took my leg in his hands and started to massage it with the sun lotion, looking me in the eyes, bold for him considering he was back to blushing. His strong hands gripped my calf as his eyes lowered to my breasts, now plainly visible through the wet fabric of my bikini, then down to my vagina, the plump pink lips of which were also obvious through the wet bottoms.

With his eyes darting from my face to my breasts to my crotch, he carried on his massaging now going up to my thighs and every now and again dangerously high so that his beautifully tanned young hands were brushing my mound, giving me a tingle. I looked back at him from his blond hair, his perfect features – sharp nose, full lips – then down to his perfectly tanned muscular arms, then down further, wishing the shorts were tighter. And then I noticed… the shorts were so baggy that I could see up the leg where, it seemed, he was either wearing baggy boxers or nothing at all as I could see his smooth balls.

He caught me looking, gave me another smile and continued with his massage, now brushing my vagina with almost every stroke. We were silent. He squeezed out some more sun cream and changed legs, putting it across his thigh, again starting with my calf, started to massage, going higher until again he was brushing my vagina with every stroke. I reached down and pulled the bikini bottoms to one side, the feeling of his thigh on my leg making me buzz. I saw his eyes widen as my pink lips pouted back at him, opening slightly with every stroke of his hands.

He shifted slightly on the edge of his lounger, giving a sly look around to make sure no one was watching us, and rearranged his bottom on the lounger so the leg of his shorts opened more, giving me a view of the end of his penis, pointing towards me, unable to stand up straight like it wanted because of the shorts.

As I tried to make out what that penis looked like, he got more daring with his massage, his fingers now lingering around my vagina, the middle finger brushing my clitoris and then, to my shock, going inside me. I gasped, then looked up, hoping the unaware couple across the pool hadn’t heard me but they were too intent on each other to notice anyone else.

He looked nervous to see my reaction but when he realised I was loving his touch, he became bolder, fingering me properly while licking his lips, looking me in the face, then in the breasts and then watching his tanned finger disappear inside the pink folds of this elderly lady he’d just met. I was trying to hold his gaze but my head kept going back, my eyes rolling in my head as this young man with surprisingly experienced fingers explored me.

Then we both heard the doors of the lift to the pool open and he gently withdrew his finger, slipped my bikini back over my vagina and stood, his erection now obvious in his shorts. Sucking the finger that had just been inside me, while looking me in the face, he just said, ‘I have to get these guys settled but I’ll see you later…’

We did see each other later but as the pool got suddenly busy, it was just the odd wink or blush or obvious look down at my breasts or crotch. As I got ready to go, I went over to the bar where Juan was mixing someone a drink. I thanked him, told him he made a mean cocktail and asked him if he liked his job.

‘I liked it this afternoon,’ he said, with a smirk. ‘It’s OK, I guess. I’m looking for something maybe a bit more adventurous.’

‘Have you ever thought of yachting?’ I asked. ‘Only I’m putting together a crew for the summer season and it seems to me you might have some of the skills I’m looking for…’

‘Oh…’ he said. He’d clearly never thought about that line of work before. ‘I have no experience though…’

‘I could teach you,’ I said. ‘And there will be experienced staff who will be able to train you. It’ll add a new skill-set to your CV…’

I could see he was interested even though he was distracted making the cocktail.

‘Well, why don’t you think about it,’ I said. ‘And if you are interested, just come and knock on my door. You remember which one it was, don’t you?’

And then I went back down to my room, showered off the suncream, lay down on the bed and thought about the handsome Juan and how he had fingered me up on the roof. I don’t know whether it was the sun or the prospect of the new season but I couldn’t keep my fingers from my clitoris. And then came the knock on the door. A shy knock. Not a confident one, as if the person knocking couldn’t decide whether they wanted to do this or not.

I pulled my robe on, opened the door and there was Juan, back in his non-pool uniform.

‘Oh, hello. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just wanted to chat a bit more about the yacht job,’ he said.

I stood back for him to step inside and indicated the chair for him to sit down.

‘Would you like a glass of this champagne?’ I asked, having only had a couple of glasses of the complimentary bottle I’d been left.

‘Erm, I’m not really supposed to,’ he said, ‘but I have finished my shift, so as long as you don’t tell anyone.’

That made me laugh. The idea that he had been fingering an important guest by the pool this afternoon but was nervous in case I mentioned to his boss that he’d had a glass of champagne. ‘It’ll be our little secret,’ I said, pouring us both a glass and then handing his to him.

We smiled at each other. He was clearly nervous, though I wasn’t sure why. ‘So, what would you like to know about the job?’ I asked, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

‘Well, how long would it be? You know, away?’ he said, sipping on his glass, his eyes looking at my pedicured feet and up my calf to where my gown was.

‘A season is six weeks,’ I said, shifting slightly so the robe showed more thigh. He’d had his hands on that thigh and higher only an hour or so ago, but he still drank in the sight of it. ‘Split into ten or so charters, each lasting two, three or four days.’

‘And can I ask about the pay?’

I told him how much he could expect to get for the season, at which his beautiful eyes widened, clearly more than he was making here. ‘But it’s the tips that really bump it up,’ I added. ‘The tips are usually more than the actual salary, as long as you keep the guests happy.’

He smiled. ‘Oh, I’m good at that,’ he said.

‘Yes, I know,’ I told him, smiling. By this time, I had wriggled my gown a little more so that my shaven pussy was clearly visible to the young man, who literally couldn’t keep his eyes off it or off my breasts that were peeking out of the top of the robe.

‘Stand up for me,’ I said, all of a sudden. ‘Let me see how tall you are.’

How tall he was being entirely irrelevant, I just wanted to see what kind of effect I’d had on the young man in these overly-tight work trousers. He stood, blushing, knowing full well that I was going to see the hard cock that was pointing upwards and to the left. It looked beautiful and as desperate as I was to caress it, I played the waiting game, circling him.

‘I’d say six foot one…’ I said, as if I really was working out how tall he was.

‘I don’t know feet,’ said Juan, following me with his head as I circled him, taking in the sight of his buttocks before I came back to the bulge I was studiously not noticing. ‘Around 185…’

Then I stood in front of him, my breasts bare and, slowly, put out my hand and placed it palm down on the bulge in his trousers. He gave a deep sound, not quite a moan, and I saw his head go back. I took my hand along the shaft of the penis and with my other hand, caressed his balls, also quite visible in these tight trousers.

‘You can touch my breasts if you like,’ I said and he didn’t need to be told twice, both hands reaching forward, each taking a breast and feeling it, pinching the nipples as I carried on running my hands up and down his rock-hard shaft and over those balls.

‘Take your shirt off for me, Juan,’ I said.

‘Yes, Marianne,’ he said, opening the buttons to reveal a chest that was smooth and broad and brown with large flat nipples. He dropped the shirt on the chair and stood, waiting for instructions and enjoying the feeling of my experienced eyes on his body.

‘Now take your shoes off.’

He bent over and unlaced the shoes. Standing back up, the blood had rushed to his face a little, maybe from bending over, maybe from standing like this waiting for a woman old enough to be his grandmother to touch him. And touch him I did, placing my manicured hands on that chest to caress skin that was so soft it almost felt like a woman’s. I ran them down to his stomach, which was lean with just a hint of the abs that lay beneath. Then I caressed the V shapes around his hips, ran a finger into the waistband of his trousers.

And without asking, undid his belt and pulled it right out. Then, hoping not to chip my nails, I started on the button that was holding the trousers up. He stood, his hands on his hips, waiting. The button came undone and, looking him in the face, I started to pull the zip on his trousers down. He smiled, no doubt wondering how this had all happened on an ordinary workday.

The trousers fell to the ground. I teased myself, trying not to look down, holding off the vision of this beautiful young man in just his underwear. But I couldn’t keep that up for long. The underwear was small, just plain white briefs with not even a seam up the front, and filling it almost to overflowing was that penis, pointing up towards his hip, each of his testicles plainly visible in the underwear. His tan line was lower than the briefs and higher than the waistband, which seemed to frame the bulge beautifully.

I stood back to get a better look. ‘Very nice,’ I purred, looking from the bulge up the stomach and chest to his face and then back down again. I moved back towards him and put my manicured hand on the bulge, squeezed it a little, noticed that the head of his penis had now breached the waistband of his underwear and a little tear of precum had appeared. I dabbed my finger into it and put it to my mouth to taste this beautiful young man.

Then I sat back down while he stood in front of me, my face now level with his bulge, which I just looked at. It clearly liked the attention as the beautiful penis started twitching, almost as if asking to be touched, leaking more precum as it bust right over the waistband of the briefs.

I teased him a little then ran my hands over the bulge again before taking the waistband at the sides in each hand and started to pull them down, my face grazing his penis as I reached down to help him step out of the briefs. Then I sat back in my chair and just feasted on the sight of this beautiful naked young man, his penis almost up against his belly, his smooth pink testicles ready to be touched. And so I touched them. He let out the deep groan at the feeling of my soft hands on his balls. His head went back.

Then I gripped his penis in my hand, sliding the foreskin over the helmet and then back down again, releasing precum with every stroke. Then, looking him in the eye as he looked down at me, his penis in my hand, his hands behind his back in order not to get in the way, I guided that beautiful cock towards my mouth and saw him close his eyes with intense pleasure as I took the head between my lips, dipping my tongue into the eye to taste more precum.

Then I took him deeper, feeling the head of that penis against the back of my throat as I balanced his testicles in my hand and then taking it further still so that the entirety of this young penis was in my throat and my nose was in his pubic hair, which smelled clean but musky. He gasped, and I felt his hands on the back of my head as his hips started to move, sliding his penis in and out of my throat as my eyes watered.

I wanted his sperm in my mouth so badly but was determined to hold off longer, if he could take it, so I gripped his buttocks and let him smash his penis into my face a little longer, his balls hitting me in the chin as he slammed into my mouth.

After a few minutes of this, I tapped him twice on the buttocks to indicate that he should stop, which he did, removing his penis gently and considerately wiping the drool from the sides of my mouth.

‘Oh, Marianne,’ he said, the sound of my name on those lips delicious to me, ‘that was so hot. You must let me return the favour.’

‘Certainly,’ I said, shrugging the robe from my shoulders and sitting back in my chair, my legs open, my pussy lips pouting at this handsome young man. He got on his knees between my thighs and decided to tease me, rubbing his face up the inside of one thigh then down the inside of the other giving my pussy lips a little lick every time. Then, pushing my lips apart with his thumbs and looking me in the eye, the way I had looked at him, thrust his tongue into me.

The sight of this beautiful young man between my legs was almost too much. I grabbed the back of his head, as he had grabbed mine, and drove his face deeper into me, allowing him to retract every so often to lick and nibble my clit before deep diving again, my juices covering his pretty face, his eyes sparkling with lust. In the mirror across the hotel room I caught a glimpse of us: me looking wanton, kneading my breasts, with this fit young man between my legs, his buttocks tensing and untensing as if he was still thrusting into me, his pink testicles visible between his legs as he devoured my sex.

Eventually, he looked up from his task, beamed me a smile and said, ‘I hope you’re going to let me fuck you now, Marianne.’

I loved his boldness. I was used to dominating men this age so it was refreshing – and sexy! – to have a young handsome man state his intentions so clearly. ‘Seeing as you’ve been such a good boy…’ I replied.

I stood up. My vagina was wet from his saliva and from my juices, a lot of which were now on Juan’s chin. I turned away from him, knelt on the chair holding its back and presented myself to him. Over my shoulder I saw him squeeze some precum from his penis and anoint me with the syrup. Then I felt the tip of his young penis against the lips of my vagina. Again, he teased me, running the tip along the lips and letting it linger on my clitoris until I was desperate to feel his young penis inside me. ‘Fuck me!’ I growled, my hand between my legs ready to help guide this rock-hard penis into me.

The head of Juan’s penis felt delicious but it was as he slid into me, his hands on my hips for traction, that I started to shudder with the pleasure of him. I reached between my legs to feel those smooth testicles against me as he slid in and out with a squelching noise. His hands reached underneath to hold my hanging breasts, nipping at the nipples as he stroked in and out. There was a time I would have been self-conscious of a man this age caressing my naked body, aware of the firmness of his flesh contrasting with the softness of my own, but by this time I realised that young men do not worry about our bodies like we do. They just enjoy them. And he was certainly enjoying mine, grunting and he pumped that penis into me, his hands on my breasts, my belly, my sex.

I could feel the mounting urgency of him as he slammed into me, the flesh of my bottom sticking to him on the outstroke. ‘Please don’t come,’ I said, not because I didn’t want his sperm inside me – I did! – but I wanted to taste it first.

‘I’m really close, Marianne,’ he said, withdrawing from me. I turned and got on my knees in front of him, continuing the strokes on his penis as I held it to my mouth, licked it, tasted myself on it. ‘I think… It’s now…’ And as I held the penis to my mouth lash after lash of sweet salty sperm shot from it onto my tongue, into my throat and onto my face. And there was a lot of it. Every time I thought I’d caught the last spurt, there was another one until Juan sort of crumpled, his penis still in my mouth as I squeezed the last droplets of that delicious spunk onto my tongue.

When we finished, I stood up, pulled my bathrobe back on and we both laughed in delight at what had just happened, him wiping his sperm from my face then holding out his finger for me to lick it off. He looked around for his briefs but I’d decided I was going to keep them as a souvenir, precum stains and all.

‘Well, that was… amazing,’ he said, as he zipped his trousers carefully over his naked penis. ‘Does that mean I got the job?’