I’d been island hopping in Greece for a few weeks and found myself in Skyros, which had a super chilled vibe, a few small galleries and the odd random hippy shop, whitewashed buildings clustered together. I’d been there for a few days, keeping to myself: reading books on the beach, writing in the afternoons, swimming, and eating out.
I’d found a preferred evening spot on the edge of the city centre in Chora, the island’s small capital. Not many tables, very few tourists, just low key and authentic. I’d been nearly every day since I found it; they knew what I drank (beer), and I’d been working my way through the small and seasonal menu.
I’d just ordered my lobster spaghetti, a local delicacy, when I heard Dimitrios, the waiter, apologising to another diner that they had run out of lobster.
“Hi, Dimitrios. Let him have mine. I don’t mind having something else,” I called out before turning to the man ordering and addiing “I’ve already had it, and I’d hate you to miss out. It’s really very good.”
“So kind of you,” came the reply. “Are you sure? It’s for my Maryse, my wife.” His French accent was immediately apparent. Maryse was medium height, with long, dark, curly hair past her shoulders. Her husband was stockier, his short side parting turning to grey. Both clearly spent a lot of time in the sun.
“Seriously, it’s my pleasure. Dimitrios, just replace mine with anything you like. Chef’s recommendation!”
“Thank you. I’m Maryse, this is Marin,” she replied. “Would you like to join us? It seems we’ve already started a conversation, so let’s continue it.”
I moved across to their table. They’d ordered wine and over the next few hours, and through our food (which we shared three ways) we got to know each other. Somehow we clicked, it felt like we’d known each other for years. I explained that I was on research leave, writing a book nobody would read, while they had both retired early from legal careers and lived on Corfu, but stayed on their yacht while cruising the Med through the summer. They were planning to head home soon and invited me to travel with them to get there. Other than chipping in for the food and drink supplies, I only had to bring myself and my luggage.
Little did I know that I wouldn’t need my clothes much at all over the coming ten days, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
*
I found myself at the marina two days later, stepping onto the deck of the Delphine. Designed in an old style but modern, she was a four-berth yacht in white with polished wood and chrome fittings. After stowing my stuff in my own cabin, which was small but had a double bed, Maryse showed me around while Marin took care of some paperwork with the harbour master. She was the more experienced sailor of the two, and she explained what was what. I’d not sailed before, but I felt I was in safe hands.
After Marin returned, we cast off, coiling the ropes as we unmoored ourselves from the dock and pulled out of the marina under petrol power before hauling sail. We were going to follow the coast where the waters were calmer, about two to three miles off shore – close enough to keep our bearings but not close enough to be seen from the shore.
I was near the bow, drinking in the sensations of the wind in my hair and the sun on my skin, getting my sea legs. Marin came to sit with me, bringing glasses of wine, and we chatted as Maryse navigated us along the coast. He’d taken his shirt off and was just in a pair of shorts so I followed suit, lounging in the shade of the foresail. He was brown all over – well, everything that I could see, at least – and aside from a little loosening of the skin on his torso, was in good shape.
After a few hours Maryse came to join us, and I was surprised to see she was wearing even less than her husband – white bikini bottoms and nothing else. I assumed this was normal for them, French folks in the Med, out at sea. I tried not to stare but I could see that she was also brown everywhere, with large boobs and dark nipples.
As she leaned across me for Marin to refill her glass, her left breast brushed against – and then rested on – my arm as she had her wine replenished. I didn’t move; I didn’t want to flinch as that would have been rude, but my mouth went dry (and I felt a small lurch in my loins) as I felt the weight and feel of her on my skin. I tried to think nothing of it. Surely it had been an accident, just a nothing, incidental?
I tried to retain the same train of thought through our conversation. Both Maryse and Marin were quite...touchy feely...and being English I’m not used to this at all. Maybe it’s just Frenchness. I started to relax a bit more as the wine flowed, and I leant into it, trying to reciprocate, which felt awkward at first but after a while I touched their hands and arms, and knees, as we gestured through our chat.
After a while Maryse said she was going to take the autopilot off and anchor up in a bay a few miles up the coast. Marin would prepare supper so I could do what I liked. I retreated to my cabin and had a nap, one of those ones where I fell asleep with an erection – thinking about touching Maryse’s body all over.
I was still hard when I was awoken by a knock. Marin poked his head around the door and said that we’d arrived, and maybe I was hungry? I’m sure he clocked my (still) hard cock, and it took me a few minutes for it to fade enough that I could leave my cabin.
Both were slightly more dressed than before, him in a shirt and her in a vest top. Food was grilled fish and salad, eaten out on the deck, of course with more wine. After we’d digested and Marin went to wash up, Maryse suggested we have a swim to cool off. I agreed, and before I could say anything else, she removed her shirt and her bottoms (no bikini lines) before diving gracefully over the side into the clear water.
“Come on, Rich. Live a little. Don’t be so...English!” she called out playfully when she resurfaced.
Taking a breath, I stripped and plunged in, swimming as far as I could on one breath before coming up for air. I couldn’t see clearly under the water, but was very aware of Maryse’s naked body to my left as I passed within about a metre of her.
“Wait for me, you two!” came Marin’s voice from the boat as he also dropped his clothes and launched himself over the side. He was also brown all over – I mean ALL over – but also shaved smooth and quite well hung. Maryse was a lucky lady. Mind you, Marin was lucky, too, she was a catch.
We swam for about half an hour, making our way to the shore to lie on the hot rocks before heading back to the boat. I tried not to stare at Maryse’s gorgeous body as she climbed the ladder back on board, and hoped I’d got away with it. Neither of them showed any intention of getting dressed again when we were back on board so neither did I. Maryse offered to make coffee, which we both accepted: the wine and swimming were in danger of sending me to sleep.
As we sat chatting, completely nude, on the wide couch on the deck, the casual touching continued but it began to feel a little different, with more lingering fingertip placement from both of them. I wasn’t sure what this was. Just friends, Continental Europe style, or an invitation for more?
“You seem uncertain of something, Richard,” (sexily pronounced Ree-shar) purred Meryse. “Pourquoi?”
“Well, we English people aren’t tactile, and we’re not usually naked, either, so this is a new experience for me,” I replied, laughing slightly nervously. “Is this how you are with all of your guests on board?”
“We’re not usually quite this tactile. We were hoping you’d...join us. No pressure, but after we met you that first night, we thought – we hoped – that maybe you’d be interested in enjoying us, and that we’d enjoy you,” explained Marin, a twinkle in his eye.
“We?” I croaked. “How do you mean ‘we’?”
“’Owever we feel, cheri,” continued Meryse. “Wherever it leads. No expectations, and no discomfort. Just pleasure, love, between friends.”
I couldn’t argue that there hadn’t been a chemistry at the outset, a comfort and a spark, and they were both attractive. I lean more into women but I’m open to exploration and mutual pleasure in the right circumstances. Being where we were – in the open air, on water, away from prying eyes and constrictive norms – suggested a greater freedom, a certain confidence, and a sense of adventure.
I took a deep breath and leaned back, smiling. “I’m all yours. Let’s see where the currents take us.”
“We were ‘oping you’d say that,” replied Marin, running his fingertips up the inside of my thigh. “Just relax.”
Maryse mirrored her husband’s action, stroking my other thigh, as they leant across my lap and kissed slowly, evidently relishing each other and the unfolding situation. God, this was so hot, and I felt my pulse, and my cock, rising. Then she turned and kissed me, her soft lips inviting me to open mine, her tongue teasing my teeth before persuading me to let her in. Kissing is my kryptonite; as soon as our tongues touched, I was lost.
We both moaned as we kissed and I felt hands on both sides exploring my body, opening my legs, cupping my balls, squeezing my cock, stroking my belly and chest. At this stage it was irrelevant whose hands were whose, and when Maryse pulled away from our kiss, her mouth was replaced immediately by Marin. His mouth felt different, firmer, more insistent, but still sensual, tasting of coffee, wine, and a little salt water.
I held his head as we kissed, and slowly he pressed against my chest, forcing me gently onto my back. I felt Maryse’s mouth on my nipples, biting them gently. Fireworks were going off in my body at this point. I was floating and yet grounded at the same time, becoming so turned on, my body screaming for attention. Hands parted my legs, leaving me being splayed open, and Maryse started sucking on my balls as her husband continued kissing me, slowly and gently, teasing my nipples with his fingertips.
Feeling my tumescent cock being taken into her mouth while gently having my balls pulled, combined with Marin’s kisses and nipple attention, sent me up another level. Things went even higher as I felt something cool and wet rubbed around my anus before something cold and metal pressed against my hole, stretching it, then entering me – a plug. At this point I could feel an orgasm fast approaching, and as good as I felt, I didn’t want to tip over yet. Calling out a strangled, “Stop,” I came up for air.
Maryse and Marin both disengaged, momentarily puzzled.
“Stop, Richard? As in stop-stop, or pause?” queried Maryse in her sing-song accent.
“Oh, definitely just a pause. I want to hold back for a while. You both need your pleasure and I want to really enjoy giving that, too.”
“A selfless lover. Perfect. And even sexier when you’re horny. Look at you!” she replied, pointing to my straining penis, shiny with her spit and my leakage.
“It’ll get colder soon. Let’s head below deck and continue,” observed Marin.
Looking over, I was almost surprised to see the sun setting over the sea as dusk fell. I’d almost forgotten where I was – all out at sea. Literally.
Standing carefully – I didn’t want the plug to fall out (or in!) – I followed them through the hatch into the generously appointed living quarters, closing the door behind me.
Marin and Maryse were standing in the small open space by the kitchen, kissing each other deeply, their bodies pressed hard together. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to stand behind her, sandwiching her tightly between us and kissing her neck and shoulders. Our hands roamed all over her, and I could feel Marin’s erection rubbing against her belly, which turned me on even more.
Marin stepped back, leaning against the edge of the table, and Maryse bent at the waist, taking her husband lovingly into her mouth. This presented me with her delectable derriere, so I knelt and kissed her from behind, sucking on her labia and teasing her entrance with my tongue. This elicited moans so I continued, loving her already wet pussy with my mouth as she sucked on her husband in earnest. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed in concentration and ecstasy.
Sliding two fingers from my left hand inside her from underneath allowed my thumb free to tease her clit, and I probed her deeply, searching for her soft g-spot as I rubbed her button in small circles. This left my mouth with nothing to so I licked her smooth arsehole exploratively. Maryse pushed back, she clearly liked it, so I licked harder, soaking her crack and hole with my spit while continuing to toy with her cunt.
After a few minutes her body started to tense and her moans grew louder. Emboldened, I pressed my spare thumb into her ass. After a brief moment of resistance it slid into her deliciously just at the moment when the orgasm overtook her. Disengaging from Marin’s penis, Maryse cried out with a colossal, “OUI! OUI! Putain!” followed by a series of gasps as it pulsed through her, both her holes squeezing my digits in concert.
“Superbe, my boys! Now, our young lover, it is your turn to be double pleasured. Follow me!” she ordered, leading me into the bedroom and onto their bed, which was generously sized given that we were on a boat.
I lay down in the middle, on my back, with Maryse on one side and Marin on the other. I kissed both of them in turn; while I was kissing one, the other was tending to my body. I received kisses, pinches, and light scratches all over: on my neck, across my chest, my nipples, down across my belly, my thighs, even the soles of my feet. Before long I was writhing, my body on fire, every inch of skin gasping for attention.
Guiding me up into a kneeling position, Maryse knelt in front of me, holding my eye contact while she teased my body with her nails. She grasped and stroked my cock as I played with her tits, pulling hard on her nipples, which she clearly loved. In that moment, it was just the two of us, drunk on lust, and a form of love, of mutual surrender.
Meanwhile, Marin was busy behind me. As Maryse bent at the waist and took my cock in her mouth, I placed my hands on her hips to hold myself almost upright. I felt Marin’s strong fingers between my cheeks, and with a quick pop, the plug was removed before more cool gloop was around my entrance. The fingers were replaced by something blunter, softer and yet still hard, pressed against my anus.
Kissing my neck, then gently biting my ear, I heard his voice whispering into my ear. “Breathe out, Richard, relax. Let me in.”
I did as instructed; for a minute I thought my efforts would be in vain, but before long I felt my sphincter spreading to accommodate him. It was tight but not painful, and Marin held for a moment, giving me time to acclimatize to his girth. Then, gently but firmly he pushed a little harder, withdrew, and pushed back again, repeatedly. After a few minutes I could take all of him; I felt so full, so wanted, somehow complete. I felt so tied to them both, not just physically but spiritually, surrendering to each other as vessels to shared pleasure and desire without barriers.
Maryse was generously loving my cock with her mouth and she steadily worked me as her husband fucked me in the arse. Time lost its meaning, and I have no idea how long we continued like this, me impaled on his meat and her. It was an otherworldly experience, my body singing with pleasure, with desire, with connection.
Inevitably I felt my orgasm building, deep and rumbling, stimulated from inside as well as out. I was helpless in the face of it, and as it broke the surface I cried out, wailing as it tore through my loins, my belly, and my chest. I was just aware enough to feel that Marin had arrived, triumphantly groaning and bucking as he emptied his seed into my rectum.
Maryse held my erupting penis in her mouth and received every drop before rising up and we all kissed, our lips and tongues slippery with spit, lust, and my semen.
We collapsed on the bed, now with Maryse in the middle, a mess of arms and legs tangled in post-coital bliss. As we drifted to sleep, sated, it crossed my mind that I was 'stuck’ on this boat for at least another week.
