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If there was one thing that 30 years of loving marriage taught me, it was that, very quickly, even the most loved up couple sleep with a respectful distance between them even if they have just shared the most mind blowing sex. I have no doubt Liddy's first marriage worked the same way. Given what she suffered, I can't talk for Amy, but a loving full night embrace certainly wasn't part of it.
Something went wrong in the formation of our polygamous relationships in relation to that rule.
Maybe it harked back to initially sharing a yacht bunk never made for a threesome, let alone more than that. Maybe it had something to do with the competitive nature of the demand for sexual favours when there were up to four Screw Girls wanting my attention on the yacht. Maybe it has something to do with Amy's history and her need for love. Or maybe it was all if the above.
Whatever the reason based in history might be, sleeping in full body contact has become the norm and indeed was so from the day Issie and Amy first came to my bed.
Over the years we've got used to the art of tossing and turning at night in a packed, cuddled up and often rocking bed. And at least the sort of sex I'd just shared with Amy leaves you ready for a sound sleep.
I awoke before dawn to find myself lying on my back, each of Liddy and Amy cuddled up facing me with an arm across my body. Liddy had her leg across my thigh, leaving the hand I had laying along her side of my body resting in her crease. Amy's hand was softly wrapped around my morning glory.
Lifting my head enough to see the clock, it confirmed my internal body clock had done its job. It was time for me to get up and get this show on the road.
To undock and motor down Pittwater, I only needed one helper and Adam had agreed to be that person. That meant all the girls could have a bit of a sleep in.
I gently unravelled my hand from where it lay in Liddy's crease and unwrapped Amy's hand from around my manhood and put her arm up on her thigh. Then I slid up from between their bodies to the head of the bed; almost crawling out onto the floor to minimise my disturbance of them.
It may have been late winter, but cold is a relative thing. Amy tells me a nice winter day in Sydney is equivalent to a good summer day in England. The night had been cool, but the temperature inside the boat was moderated by the warmer temperature of the water it rested in and the heat of the seven bodies slumbering in the closed down cabin.
I slipped on a pair of speedo style swim briefs I'd left handy for the purpose and pulled the waistband up over the hardness of my morning glory, leaving it sheathed in the tightly stretched material. It had been more than a little sensitised by Amy's hand around it and wasn't anything like ready to give up its hardness yet. But that was nothing new. With Amy frequently playing with it during the night and surrounded as I often am by naked or semi naked women, most mornings it takes fifteen minutes to go down.
As for putting on speedos, that's a habit as old as my sailing history. Swimwear has always been the base layer of any sailing outfit for the simple reason you never know when you're going to need to get wet; like going over the side to untangle a propeller wrap.
Compounded by the fact the Screw Girls, for their own pervy reasons, had made them and their fuck me bikinis the compulsory uniform for rigging and unrigging the boat on anything but the most miserable weather. It was going to be interesting to see how that went down in the Hamilton Island marina.
I'd left a polar fleece track suit in the main cabin to let me put it on without disturbing the girls by trying to do it in the limited floor space of the cabin.
Exiting the master cabin, I fumbled across the main cabin to the switchboard over the navigation table to turn on the master switch for the main cabin lights, then fumbled across the cabin roof to find the nearest light fitting with its integral individual switch. My hand circled the round base of the light, looking for the switch and when I found it, took care to turn it in the direction which would turn on the red night light, rather than ruin my night vision with the bright white one.
Then I crossed the cabin to perform the critical task of putting the kettle on. Coffee always comes first.
I was just filling it when Adam exited the forward cabin. Adam was still sleepy and facing straight towards me. I can't say I wasn't shocked by the sight, however much warning I'd got from the girls.
Neither 'hung like a horse' nor Ellen's more extreme 'hung like an elephant' were as hyperbolic as I'd assumed. Amy's two drink cans stacked one on top of the other was closest to the mark in both length and girth.
Adam too was also dressed only in a pair of the blue speedo like swimwear the girls insist as being part of the boat uniform; his, for the reason he needs a tight fitting pair to keep his flaccid manhood contained within the leg elastic on his slim, athletic swimmer's figure, being a smaller size escort izmir than might otherwise be the case.
Towering out of the waistband was what I had to guess was his full erection; he too not yet having settled his morning glory after a night spent, I can only guess, cuddled up with Shelley.
There was no point making a competition out of it. He won hands down.
Mine I think is fairly standard. At full hardness like it was now, it stretched up to just under my navel and the fingers of Liddy's hand can fully circle it; Amy's more delicate fingers just falling short of the task.
Adam's towered well over his navel; it being pointless him even trying to stretch the front of his swimmers to cover it. And there was no hand on earth that could circle that monster.
As I asked if he wanted a coffee, he seemed remarkably unconcerned by his exposure.
"I've got some tea Shelley and I like."
Walking half way down the cabin towards me, he stopped at a small roof level cabinet and pulled out a tea packet, closing the rest of the distance to deposit it on the galley bench and in the process giving me an even closer view of it both in profile and straight on.
His nonchalance about it was probably explainable by the fact he's had a couple of years of having girls teasing it to exposure.
Amy tells me that the girls in his competitive swimming training squad regularly tease him up into a full exposed boner. Standing in a line waiting for their turn, dressed only in their wet bathing suits, the one behind him will stand her ground while the one in front backs up on him, then finds some reason to get excited about what's happening in the pool as an excuse to basically rub her butt against him.
He was only 18 when it first happened. The result was inevitable.
Amy say's the first time it happened he was mortified. Once he realised the girls were aiming for that result, it was more a shrug of the shoulders. After that, and his girlfriend at the time told the others his cum shot can have up to a two meter projection, I'm told the games they played with him at their Christmas pool parties were definitely x rated, even if none of them wanted that thing actually in their bodies.
Amy and the Screw Girls aren't innocent of doing the same. I've seen them, when doing a difficult heavy team job like lifting a sail bag or feeding a jib up the forestay, crowd in on him and by a combination of breast exposures and, so called, accidental or incidental to the job, manhandling, tease him up.
It's just that, back at the helm, I'd never been close enough before to see the result.
We both decided to ignore our respective morning arousals; acting as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. After last night's performances, neither of us had anything to be feeling inadequate about.
Having undertaken the critical task of putting the kettle on, I turned to put my tracksuit on...
"I'm just going out to take in the non-critical mooring lines. Can you pour my coffee when the kettle boils?"
A light wind was blowing from the aft port quarter. With the boat moored against the jetty on the starboard side that meant the forward spring line and dockside bow line were both redundant and I could save time on our final undocking by bringing them aboard now.
Unlike a normal undocking where we leave the lines on the dock, for this trip we needed to take them with us. During the course of the previous day I'd reversed all the lines; putting the loop on the dock and the tie off on the boat for a quick undocking. All I had to do was loosen the lines and throw them aboard.
While on the dock I also uncoupled the shore power and wound up the cord for storage in the stern locker, joined by the now redundant mooring lines; two less lines to foul things up as we undocked.
As I came back down the companionway, I turned the engine on to let it warm up as I drank my coffee. Adam was by now dressed in his own equivalent of a tracksuit.
With about a third of my coffee drunk, I said to Adam...
"OK let's go."
Taking my coffee up the companionway and putting it on the cockpit table, I waited until Adam was on the dock, then turned the rudder blade hard to port and put the engine into forward. The effect was to push the boat forward, hard against the aft spring holding it back, but also onto dock with the prop wash across the rudder stopping the boat's spring line from turning the bow into the dock.
Now we could go about calmly removing and rolling up every other dock line.
With only the spring line remaining, I took the boat out of gear, which took the pressure off it and let Adam cast off it too. Then putting the boat into reverse, we backed out of the dock and down the length of the marina.
We turned North, heading down Pittwater, my eyes slowly adjusting to the pitch blackness, only the navigation marks, our chart plotter, the ink black shadows of the surrounding landmasses and our intimate knowledge of the waterway guiding our path.
The eastern sky was only izmir escort bayan just starting to lighten as we exited the heads and turned North up the coast. Rather than hugging the coast, Ellen had planned us a course taking a giant arc to seaward, for a number of reasons.
Safety wise, sailing at night as we often would be is much riskier closer to the coast, where other boats and coastal trading ships will often be encountered. Plus it was the whale migration season. They might be lovely to spot during the day, but if you're sailing at night, often neither yacht nor whale will be aware of each other until there's a collision; a very undesirable outcome.
But even from the point of view of the speed of passage, there's some advantage on a seaward course. There's a current called the East Coast Current that runs southward along the east coast of Australia (fans of the movie Finding Nemo will recognise it as being central to the story), something to be avoided if you're going North.
If you're racing you'll often see yachts tacking right into the breakers along the beachlines to minimise its effect; but that's hardly safe at night.
The current's effect and how far out from the coast it goes varies over time. Ellen's research indicated it was presently close into the coast and indeed we might even find reverse eddies on the course she'd mapped for us. So a big arch course it was.
With the low early light, I had Adam up on bow, trying to give some warning of any lurking whale as we motored along, when Ellen emerged from the cabin and joined me at the wheel.
To an outside observer, it is a strange relationship we now share. There are certain habits carried over from our previously intimate one that Ellen has chosen to continue; usually in full sight of her husband.
The first was to greet me with a kiss on the lips.
The second, as she came around the wheel, was to wrap an arm around my hips to hold me in a static embrace. In a quiet voice, obviously not intended for Adam's consumption, she commented...
"That was quite a performance you and Amy put on last night. Was going the animal on her the best way of going about it."
"How did you know it was going the animal? Anyway, my original intention was that would satisfy her the quickest and quietest of any of our usual approaches. It just didn't work out that way."
"You don't say. Really, after all the times I've watched you do it to Amy and had you do it to me, you don't think I'd recognise the sound of a go the animal?"
"I suppose so. Still, we weren't the only ones making noise. My ears told me you were the only one that didn't climax on the boat last night."
"Yours ears are wrong. The mental picture of you going the animal on me or Amy, or any of the other Screw Girls is so fixed in my brain, I only need the slightest sound of it for the sensation of it to flood my body. I had a giant, demanding lady boner from the moment you started up. Add Shelley and Adam moaning a few feet from my head on the other side of the bulkhead and Issie squirming about and moaning on the bunk right above me as she fingered herself then I was going to explode if I didn't do something about it. You forget I had a lot of practice doing it quietly on the boat I came from to join yours."
Ellen seemingly pondered for a moment...
"This is going to be one weird trip. I wish Harry could have come."
Adding...
"Buurrr, it's still a bit chilly..."
Ellen went from standing alongside me, to moving around behind me, wrapping both arms around me to pull herself in tightly to my body as if to find warmth there.
There are times Ellen pushes the limits of what's appropriate for a married woman; a limit that is already only so high because she, I and her husband all know there's nothing going to happen whatever flirtations passes between us.
As she pushed her mons firmly against my buttock and let the rocking of the boat provide cover for herself rubbing up and down against it, this was one of those times; all the more so as her arms around me drifted downwards until they sat on my lower stomach dangerously close to an area where she probably shouldn't go.
I let it pass, well understanding, given our history, the depth of her frustrations as she heard me banging away at Amy.
As the day came to life, one by one the rest of the women on board appeared from below. By mid-morning the SW following wind was well up and the sails were set and engine off as we surfed the waves north at much more than our planned hull speed.
By constantly checking the water temperature and the difference between the speed through the water shown on the log and the GPS speed over the ground, Ellen monitored any adverse effect of the East Coast Current, least that called for a change of course. To her credit, she managed to keep us in a strong eddy for most of the daylight hours, pushing us north even faster.
As part of the trip plan, the crew had been divided into two watches; Amy, Shelley and Adam in one, Ellen, Issie izmir escortlar and Liddy in the other with Amy and Ellen as the watch captains. That left me as skipper floating, able to be on deck at any time the need arose.
While Ellen and Amy were my most trusted watch captains, there was some other planning in my allocation of crews that wasn't entirely related to sailing the boat.
I knew when she was off watch, and especially at night, Amy would be seeking sex from me and, as had already been demonstrated, it wouldn't be quiet. I thought if Shelley and Adam shared the same off watch, they might find a noise cover for their own activities. Plus by putting Amy and Liddy on different watches, Liddy might get a decent go at some intimacy with me instead of getting crowded out by Amy.
In theory, the watch below should be resting, but on the first day, after a good night's sleep, that's hard to do. So on the first day I tend to not push the issue until the 4 pm watch changeover, when I think it's prudent for the off watch to go below and get some rest for their impending night watch.
By 11 am on the bright sunny day it turned out to be, the day was almost warm; or at least not cold. The speed of the boat reduced the apparent wind, and therefore also the wind chill factor.
With additional wind protection forward of the cockpit spray dodger, Amy laid out her usual cushions in front at the aft end of the cabin top, stripped down to one of the tiny bikinis which the girls have adopted as part of the boat uniform and laid herself out to enjoy some winter sun; soon joined by Shelley next to her.
Because it was so much fun on the helm surfing the waves, there was a degree of competition to be the helmsman (or helmsperson in modern parlance, especially since most of them were women). Nobly, I stood aside to give the others a turn.
But as one of only two males aboard, that did leave me with something of a conundrum. Anywhere you sat in the cockpit pretty well left the laid out and very distracting bodies of Amy and Shelley square in your field of vision.
You basically had a choice. Sitting one side, where I first placed myself, you were left looking up between their legs at the narrow gusset of their bikini pants and the underboob displayed by their bikini tops. The view was exaggerated by the fact that, to brace themselves against the roll and movement of the boat, there was a moderately wide spread of their legs. And compounded by the fact the gusset of their bikinis nowhere near bridged the gap between their thighs, indeed, barely covered their labia, leaving two very distracting strips of flesh between their inner thighs and the leg elastic of their bikini pants.
On the other side, you were staring down at the deep cleavage display and bikini bridge on the waistband of their pants. Neither was easy to turn away from.
Adam had solved the problem by sitting alongside and forward of Shelley where he could chat with her; fully justifying looking down at her -- and I don't doubt Amy, as he did. Although even he was asked to sit a bit further back so he didn't cast a sun shadow on Shelley.
I had no such easy option. While surfing the waves, we didn't want weight any further forward than necessary, so I couldn't even go and sit by the mast or up the bow.
If it had just been Amy it wasn't really a problem, even if Liddy, Issie and Ellen would be sitting there judging me (or just as often in the old days, and still sometimes now, setting themselves up to get equal exposure to my own pervy eyes). Amy deliberately lays herself out for me to lust over her as part of ensuring I can perform to her demands.
But Shelley's presence was a bit more problematic, if only because she was the only woman on the boat I didn't have specific permission to perv at. Plus she's much younger than the others.
It wasn't helped that Shelley's features weren't that dissimilar to Amy's; a slender body capped by breasts disproportionate to their other features.
Indeed, when Amy and Ellen chose Shelley as an additional crew member after a trial day with her, Adam and another woman, they admitted she'd been chosen by them for her looks -- to keep the vibe of the boat up -- nearly (although they assured me, not quite) as much as her sailing ability.
With her very prominent mound and puffier nipples, Amy's body was probably more sexualised. And spending the first 28 years of her life in sunless England, much of it wrapped in frumpy, hide all clothing, meant her golden olive skin was still flawlessly youthful.
But while Shelley might have had -- in my eyes, although frankly it was still a lovely light golden colour -- less perfect skin, she was slightly taller and had maybe even bigger breasts relative to her body mass than Amy; and very youthful ones at that.
But from where I was sitting, one thing made it really hard to satisfy myself with just innocently staring at Amy instead of taking in the vista of Shelley as well. Through Amy's crotch, as it always does, ran a dimpled line which, as the sun warms her pussy or she indulged in erotic thoughts as she lay there, spread into two distinct dimpled lines with a hollow between. Seductive and sexualised, but at least subtle. Aroused to a degree, but not fully.