The rest of the crew were tricky to choose. I wanted guys who were hot – of course – and hot in different ways, to appeal to different tastes. And I wanted them to be open-minded but I didn’t want sex workers. Firstly, sex workers don’t know how to run a boat and secondly, it’s much more exciting to have regular guys whose horizons you feel you might be expanding, who are having fun and who are eager to please rather than someone with their eye on the dollar. Though there are dollars and plenty of them to be had.

By the end of the week, I had six crew sorted, the four I’ve already talked about – Juan, Sven, Tommy and José – and two others. There’s Kevin, a Manchester guy with cropped blonde-ish hair and very fine features, not that tall, slim enough that you can see his abs and with a very cheeky personality. When I mentioned in the interview I wasn’t sure about the uniform, he said, ‘Do you want me to try it on for you?’ and just stripped naked right there in front of me.

‘I love being naked,’ he said, when I showed my surprise. ‘I would be naked all the time if I could.’

‘I would love you to be naked all the time as well,’ I told him – well, the body was delicious, the penis lovely but not too big and his bottom so round and bouncy, you’d love to see it running around a boat – ‘but I think we’ll play it by ear.’ You couldn’t help but fall for the little imp and how I kept my hands – and mouth and other body parts – off him, I really don’t know.

The last member of the crew was almost the opposite of Kevin. Another English guy – Steve - but from quite a moneyed background, he’d been some sort of model, had the most extraordinarily perfect body with every ab and shoulder muscle exactly where it should be and a face that was every bit as flawless, with a square jaw and almost scientifically perfect stubble, clear blue eyes and hair that was short at the sides and blond on top. Personality-wise, he seemed shy, introverted even, which can be a problem with customer-facing roles but I thought I’d give him a try.

Kevin was obviously open-minded so I didn’t need to worry about him but Steve, I wasn’t so sure. I did my usual bold staring at his body – especially his crotch – and he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to like it, going by the wry smile. Then I asked him to take his top off so I could see his body – without any explanation why that was necessary – and he did it without missing a beat, which is why I can describe his physique to you. I suppose having been a model, that sort of thing is required all the time. But I left it there, with him shirtless, and didn’t push it any further. He’s the one I’ll have to keep my eye on, I thought.

The first time we all met up as a crew was on the day before the first charter. The captain and engineers, who I didn’t really have to have anything to do with, were already onboard and settled in, as was our cook, Shirley, the only other woman on the boat, a red-haired, 50-year-old English woman from the North somewhere: not great looking, slightly overweight but very good at what she did. I assigned us a cabin together.

The guys came on one by one, met each other, were given cabins and uniforms and were introduced to the captain, who would be giving them instructions on deck even though they would be reporting to me for anything to do with guests. When everyone was on board, we had our first meeting in the Star Lounge, the main salon for the guests.

The basic uniform I had decided on (the Lycra was just too explicit, especially with American Tommy) was a basic white gym short and T-shirt, which actually looked quite classy, especially against tanned skin. The material of the shorts was the same as the T-shirt so very light, which meant – you’re ahead of me – when they were on, you could make out all the shape of the guys’ penises only more subtly than with the Lycra. If anything, it was even sexier, especially since I had advised no underwear, making out it would be cooler, more comfortable and would create less laundry. No one seemed to mind.

Seeing the six of them sitting there in just their white shorts and T-shirts with bare feet – perfect for a foot fetishist like me - I was a little taken aback by how hot they all were when seen together. Different shapes and sizes and personalities but all beautiful with dazzling smiles and positive attitudes. And like me, I could tell Shirley was dazzled at the six pairs of brown thighs and the six visible bulges that sat facing us.

I think it’s always best to start off quite strict, to gain the crew’s respect, then you have the latitude to be a bit more informal when you have established that you are top dog and that they must do what you say. I explained the rules – obedience, mainly, and that if they felt uncomfortable doing anything they’d been asked to do then they should come and discuss it with me. José, Juan and Sven would be on deck, with Sven in charge, while cheeky little Kevin was head steward with Tommy and Steve also working on interiors.

‘Are there any questions?’ I asked, ready to dismiss them to getting the boat ready for tomorrow’s charter.

‘Oh, and I was wondering…’ said Steve, ‘erm, why there are no girls on the Stew team.’

‘It was just luck of the draw,’ I lied, seeing as I had only interviewed young men and not bothered with any of the applications I got from girls. ‘Besides, you’ll be able to focus on your jobs better, just all boys, don’t you think?’

There was a mutter of affirmation but, to be honest, no one seemed that bothered that, apart from me and Shirley, it was an all-male crew.

‘Anyway,’ I said, clapping my hands and standing, ‘I think we should get cracking then we won’t be up against it tomorrow before the first charter.’

The guys all stood up, rearranged their shorts and filed out. ‘Oh, Tommy,’ I said as they were heading for the door. ‘Could you stay behind a moment?’

‘Sure thing,’ he said, coming towards me, waiting until we were alone.

‘I just wondered about the uniform…’ I said. ‘The reason we didn’t go with the Lycra was that it looked a bit… pornographic on you.’ He laughed.

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘They were a bit explicit. Quite nice to wear though. But these are OK. They’re not too much, are they?’

We both looked down – I’d actually looked down before – to see that big American penis quite prominent in the shorts. ‘It’s OK if I don’t do this,’ he said, starting to move his hips backwards and forwards to make the head of the penis hit the front of the shorts. He laughed at how funny it looked. ‘Mind you, if I do that too much, I’ll get a semi and then we’re in trouble.’ He laughed again. Then looked worried. ‘Sorry, that was a bit crass.’

‘Not at all,’ I said, smiling, still looking at that monster penis in his shorts. ‘And what about if you sit down? Any risk of an accident?’

He sat back on the sofa and, sure enough, the tip of his penis appeared from the leg of his shorts. We both laughed. ‘But I can be careful,’ he said. ‘If I make sure to tuck it to the side before I sit down… Anyways, I’m on deck so there won’t be a whole lot of sitting down.’

‘Are you sure you’re comfortable wearing them though?’ I asked as he stood back up. ‘I don’t want you to feel self-conscious.’

‘They’re fine,’ he said. ‘Not wearing underwear is really nice, especially on deck, when you can feel the air circulate. Underwear always feels restrictive.’

‘I bet it does on that massive thing,’ I said, smiling.

‘Do you like massive things, Marianne?’ he asked, out of the blue, changing the atmosphere in the room instantly.

‘Who doesn’t?’ I shot back, with my most seductive smile.

‘Would you like to see it?’

‘Of course!’ I said. ‘But not here, in case someone comes in. Let’s go to the laundry, I know there’s no one in there because all the laundry is done.’

We headed out of the Sky Lounge, down the spiral staircase to crew quarters then, sneaking past the galley so Shirley didn’t see us, slipped into the laundry and shut the door. It felt so naughty and I could see that the naughtiness of it had already had an effect on Tommy, who was now tenting as far as the fabric of the shorts would let him.

And in the confined space, I realised just how big he was. Tall, almost to the point of needing to crouch through doors; broad with great shoulders and, looking down, all in proportion, even his feet, which were so big I had to be careful not to step on them.

‘Go on then,’ he said, a big white smile appearing in the middle of that thick beard.

I reached forward, lifted the T-shirt – though he had to take it off as he was too tall for me to reach – then, looking him in the eye, which really meant bending my head back – took the sides of the shorts and pulled them down, dragging his penis down with the fabric until it pinged back up. And being so much shorter than him, the penis was right there, almost at breast height.

Now, anyone will tell you that when penises get very big, they often get misshapen. Not Tommy. The penis was perfectly proportioned with a big head and a thick shaft just about twice the size of most penises or so it seemed. And the testicles were in proportion, by which I mean, huge. I just gazed in awe at the beautiful sight before me, at the bit of blondish pubic hair, the cock by now almost vertical, a droplet of precum at the tip, the hairless balls hanging beneath.

‘Go ahead and touch it if you want to,’ he said, his hands on his hips, enjoying the effect his penis was having on my expression, which I think looked almost hypnotised.

‘If you’re sure,’ I said, reaching out and gripping the shaft, which was so thick I could barely get my hand around it. ‘Fuck…’ I said, though it just slipped out, as I put my other hand around it and started to draw them up and down, the bead of precum squeezing out, down the underside of his penis and onto my top hand.

I pressed it against my breasts, rubbing the droplets of precum on the skin of my cleavage, feeling that thick shaft almost against my heart.

‘Feel free to taste it,’ he said, his hands still on his hips, a smile in the middle of that beard at the look on my face. I didn’t need telling twice. I licked the precum that was still oozing from the eye of his penis, then lowered my mouth over the head, which felt as big as an apple and filled my whole mouth. I felt his hands on my head, but there was no way I was going to get much more into my mouth; it was full. I heard him moaning as I ran my tongue over the head of his cock, his testicles in my hand, his hips rocking as if he were going to be able to fuck my head.

When I looked up at him, he was either throwing his head back or looking down at me, sort of smug at the idea of an old lady – his boss! – losing it over his beautiful cock. I’m sure it happened all the time.

‘Do you want to feel it inside you, ma’am?’ he asked as I frenziedly licked and sucked the head of his cock.

‘So much!’ I said, still holding it as I lifted my skirt, then letting it go to pull down my knickers.

‘Why don’t you lean over the washing machine?’ he suggested. It was a good idea as it was the right height and once I was there, I felt him kick my feet wider, then felt his breath on my pounding pussy lips, then his tongue as he tipped me back to get better access, feeding his saliva into my vagina to make it slippery for when he entered me. Then he stood, I felt his hands on my hips, and I braced myself for what was the biggest penis ever to enter me.

First, I felt the head against the lips of my vagina, then on my clitoris, which made me shudder. Then, holding me even harder by the hips, I felt that massive head inch into me. I thought I was going to come before he’d even got it all in, waves of euphoria were sweeping over me. Then slowly, gently, he pushed further until I could feel those great testicles pressing against me. It was only when it was fully in that he started slowly rocking, pushing his penis gently in and then out, each time pulling it further out of me so that I could feel it going in even deeper with every stroke.

Soon, he was hammering my vagina, drawing out to the head, then smashing the whole length of his penis back in. I felt myself pushing back into him, feeling his pubic hair between my buttocks all the while gasping with every stroke, trying not to scream out and alert the rest of the team that Marianne was already sampling the goods. My whole body was alive with this handsome young man’s penis ruining me. Wave after wave of pleasure broke over me as he quickened his strokes pulling me more brutally on his penis until I felt it thicken…

‘Inside is OK?’ he asked. I nodded and instantly felt the pumping of his sperm into me. It felt like it would never stop, like he would never stop, the cum dripping from me as he pumped more and more in. Then he slowed and stayed still inside me, his penis twitching out its last drops for my greedy vagina, which felt bruised and stretched but so happy. He withdrew, which seemed to take ages, there was so much penis to pull out and we stood smiling at each other, the sperm running down my thighs as his penis slowly deflated.

‘Here, let me take care of that for you,’ he said, lifting me onto the washer, opening my thighs with his huge hands and burying his face in my vagina to lick out the sperm he’d just pumped in. I could feel the beard against my inner thighs and thought I might actually come again as I felt his tongue probing and licking. When he came back up, he had a mixture of his sperm and my juice in his beard, which was glistening. I reached behind me for one of the clean towels and mopped his face, then used the same towel to dry between my legs.

I located my knickers as he pulled his shorts back on, his penis still inflated enough to make them stand out in front. I put my ear to the door of the laundry and, hearing nothing, decided it was safe to sneak out but not before having one last squeeze of that beautiful penis. I came out first, smoothing my skirt down and, seeing no one, beckoned for him to follow and to go the other way to me, which meant towards the kitchen. A moment later, I heard Shirley go, ‘Oh, my!’, clearly having seen Tommy go by with a half-inflated monster in his skimpy little shorts.

I went back to my cabin, still light-headed, washed myself, tasting a bit of the sperm that was still draining out of me, and changed my underwear, going back to the Sky Lounge to see that everyone was getting on with their duties. This being day one, everyone – except Tommy and myself – had been getting on with it. Tommy walked by the window and I heard Sven go, ‘Where do you think you’ve been?’ to which he answered, ‘Marianne just needed to see me about something. Now, where do you want me to start? Hosing down?’

I went out on deck to check on the progress of the endless washing down that goes on to get salt off the expensive yacht to find the three guys with hoses and window blades, the water having made their T-shirts and their shorts semi-transparent, meaning I could see Tommy’s huge member and Sven and Juan’s – all three of which I’d already enjoyed – through the material. What a summer it’s going to be, I thought.

By sunset, everyone was exhausted but the ship was looking in pretty good shape. I’d ordered in pizza and everyone sat around the crew mess – except for Shirley – tearing off triangles and getting to know each other. But as much as they wanted to bond, I could tell they were tired and at around 9.30pm they started to float off to their various cabins, knackered but slightly buzzing about tomorrow’s first charter.

I always like to be the first one up just so I don’t get any rude awakenings about something that’s happened – or not happened – overnight so I was on deck to watch the sun rise with a cup of coffee and my laptop, making sure provisions had arrived, charter guests were on their way, pick-up times had been arranged and all the thousand little things that nobody thinks of that make a charter go smoothly.

But I wasn’t the first one up. When I arrived on deck to watch the beautiful view, there was an even more beautiful view for me to feast my eyes on: Kevin naked doing yoga on deck as shameless as you like. He caught sight of me and smiled while I did a little pantomime to see if it was OK if I sat there and got on with my stuff while he did his practice. He gave me two thumbs up and went back to a downfacing dog that allowed me to take in the sight of his beautiful round arse cheeks slightly stretched, his perineum and his balls hanging between his legs.

My vagina was still tender from the pounding it had received the day before from Tommy but I still got a flutter at watching this cute young lad naked in front of me in the orange glow of the rising sun. And it may have been my imagination, but it seemed as if he was doing poses that showed himself off to me, especially his underneath with Downfacing Dogs and poses that stretched his arse right out. I know that young men, especially when they have great bodies, love to show them off so I assumed that that’s what this was and I was more than happy to watch.

After grabbing some breakfast, doing finishing touches, following Kevin around the boat (watching that bouncy arse in his shorts) to make sure all the guest suites were perfect, we all got changed into our whites – more formal clothes with long trousers and epaulettes – to impress the guests as they boarded. We gathered at the stern at the top of the steps, Kevin and his lads holding trays with glasses of champagne on – and watched as our first charter guests climbed the pasarelle, which is like the gangplank, towards us.

Our first charter was all-female, which the lads liked the sound of. The primary – the person who paid for the yacht, basically – was a successful sixty-something woman who had made her fortune in real estate. Sylvia was big and blousy and came on in an off-the-shoulder top with her sun-damaged chest and cleavage on display. I watched as she went down the line introducing herself to the young men and saw all of them take in the sight of the top of her breasts.

The other women were of a similar age, and similarly attired in trousers that were a little too tight, tops that were a little too low and clothes that were generally a little too see-through. Not that any of my crew seemed to mind about that.

‘Kevin…’ Kevin put his hand up and smiled, ‘will show you around the boat,’ I said to the ladies as they stood with their glasses of champagne, drinking in the sight of the line-up of beautiful young men before them. ‘And as soon as we have your luggage on the ship, we can get this party started.’ They whooped then followed Kevin, who took the stairs to the top deck as they all took in the sight of his bouncy buttocks leading the way.

When they had gone, I told the rest of the crew to change out of their whites and followed Shirley to the galley to make sure she had lunch under control, which, of course, she did. Then, as we pulled away, I went back to the aft deck to make sure the table had been set, which it had by Kevin, Tommy and Steve. Within minutes, the ladies started drifting back for drinks and for a look at the three young men now in their T-shirts and T-shirt material shorts, their beautiful penises swinging visibly.

The ladies were already pretty tipsy, what with the champagne they had been served as they got on and the cocktails the young men were now serving them and I could see them nudging each other, especially when Tommy came over to refresh their drinks, his huge penis obscenely swinging in their faces.

Usually on yachts, there are strict rules about interacting with the guests. It’s actually a sacking offense to have any sort of sexual contact, even kissing. But I had decided not to mention any of this to my crew. I thought I would just let them make their own decisions, set their own boundaries and enjoy themselves as they thought fit.

So, when Sylvia tentatively put her hand out to touch Tommy’s penis through the fabric of his shorts, I watched discreetly to see what his reaction would be. He laughed. ‘Be careful if you don’t want to wake the monster,’ he said cheerfully to Sylvia as he collected glasses.

‘But I do want to wake the monster,’ she cooed, looking from his cheerful beardy face to the huge penis that was already growing in his shorts.

‘Well, you’re going about it the right way,’ he said, not giving her any sense of discouragement. And so she carried on, rubbing it through the fabric, looking at her friends in delight and encouraging them to touch the huge bulge, which was already visibly leaking precum into the shorts, turning them transparent so the peachy colour of Tommy’s cockhead could be seen through them.

I saw Tommy looking around him, to see if anyone was watching this mass groping, and he caught sight of me watching. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth turned down as if to ask if this was OK. I responded with a shrug and a smile to indicate that it was up to him. With that confirmed with a wink, he turned back to the excitement around the front of his shorts.

‘And what if we got it out?’ said Sylvie.

‘Why don’t we find out?’ replied Tommy, at which Sylvie pulled up the leg of his shorts so that his penis and his prodigious balls came out. All the ladies gasped at the sheer naked size of it, which made Tommy smile. Having come this far, Sylvie assumed she was allowed to do exactly as she liked, which in Tommy’s case was clearly true, and so she took the shaft of the penis in her hand and started to ride that hand up and down it, while looking up at Tommy’s smiling face.

I watched as another hand took Tommy’s testicles and started to balance them while a second woman’s hand joined Sylvie’s on the shaft. Goodness knows, there’s was plenty of room for at least three hands on that thing and I loved the sight of these old ladies’ wrinkled but manicured hands with their expensive jewellery on Tommy’s beautiful penis, squeezing it and rubbing up and down it while the women they belonged to looked excitedly at each other, as if they couldn’t believe this was really happening.

I watched with a smirk on my face, knowing what was coming next: Sylvie leaned forward and, licking the precum from the head of Tommy’s penis, took the head of it into her mouth. Tommy groaned and instinctively put his hand on the back of Sylvie’s head to pull it further on, even though as I’d learned there was no getting much of that penis in a human mouth. The other women joined her, licking the shaft, licking the helmet ridge that wouldn’t fit into Sylvie’s mouth… one even got down on the floor and tried taking Tommy’s testicles into her mouth.

There was lipstick all over Tommy’s penis and balls and shorts, hands were exploring the heavy abs and the slightly hairy pecs and Sylvie was drooling, her eyes watering as she tried to take down as much as possible of probably the biggest penis she’d ever experienced… and I had a feeling this lady had experienced a few.

At one point, Kevin walked onto the deck with a tray full of glasses of champagne and, even though I could see he was taken aback at the sight of Tommy being devoured, set the tray down on a nearby table, watched for a moment, absent-mindedly stroking his own penis through the shorts, then walked away smiling at Tommy’s luck.

Then, just as Kevin left, I saw Tommy’s breathing start to deepen, one hand holding the back of Sylvie’s head a bit harder, the other pinching his own nipples hard, then… ‘Ladies, if you’re ready…’ They all pulled back to watch and saw the first huge lash of sperm release from the head of that huge penis, still in the grip of Sylvie and one of the other women. The sperm hit Sylvie in the forehead with a second, hitting the tongue that she had put out at the sight of Tommy exploding.

A few more lashes, and then the sperm started to ooze out more slowly. By this time, I had got my phone in my hand and caught some beautiful shots of five elderly ladies gazing at Tommy’s beautiful penis, the sperm running down onto their hands, as if it was a religious icon. And then the spell broke, and they started looking at each other with a look of ‘did that just happen?’ on their faces as they looked at the glistening sperm on their hands, putting it to their noses and then their mouths.

Tommy rearranged his shorts, but his penis was still engorged, and they literally barely contained it, the remnants of his sperm making the part that housed the end of his still leaking penis transparent. The ladies pulled themselves together, rearranged their hair, gave Tommy one last squeeze through his shorts and, noticing the tray of champagne, wandered towards it.

It was then that Sylvie caught sight of me watching and, taking a glass of champagne, walked over to me, pinching the sides of her mouth with her fingers to sort out the mix of lipstick and sperm that was still on her face.

‘Oh, Marianne,’ she said, with a half-smile, taking a sip. ‘Did you see that?’

‘I did,’ I said.

‘I hope we didn’t cross a line with your crew…’

‘As long as you are happy and my crew is happy, then I’m happy,’ I said. ‘And from the look of Tommy, he’s very happy.’