An Indecent Invitation Pt. 10

The boat trip that Molly had suggested from the harbour became the agreed plan for the day. Not perhaps quite what she had originally had in mind. She had rather envisaged hiring a boat and going along the coast. Just the five of them. Phoebe, though, had seemed to have quite a different idea and, rather than hire, they joined something of a party boat. A large boat decked out as something of a pirate ship. Poor Oliver found himself surrounded by young people. Not bad, as such, but probably he was not so keen on the thumping disco music and the dancing. The girls, including Molly, had a whale of a time. There was dancing, laughter, beer, food and diving off the end of the boat into clear aquamarine water when moored further down the coast. It was a jolly day.

Lisa seemed to go down particularly well with the young men. It might have had something to do with her big 'tatas' swinging in her bikini as she danced.

The girls had loved it all, but Oliver, certainly, had said 'not again'. If they wanted another boat trip then he would hire a boat just for the five of them. They did, indeed, want to go again, so Oliver hired a boat the next day.

It was all a lot quieter. The boat much smaller. Still lovely to be pushing through the blue water along the coast, hear the water lapping and watch the land drifting past (without the music). It was all so much more Oliver's thing. Actually, it was more Molly's 'thing' as well.

"Do you think we might go topless?" asked Phoebe. Oliver thought so, unless we passed another boat.

"You don't want to frighten anyone," he said, looking at Lisa as she slid her bikini top off, revealing more than just the cleavage of those self-same big 'tatas' that had been such a feature of the previous day's trip. All out in the open, plenty, indeed, out in the open and in the sunshine.

"I can't, of course, compete," remarked Phoebe, undoing her top. She did not possess a lot more there than Oliver, who was, pleasingly, without 'man boobs' -- always a risk in the mature man. Not a lot more in terms of bulk for Phoebe than him, but the protruding nipples and large areolae were anything but manly. Molly slipped her own top off too. She could not beat Lisa in the voluptuous department, but her boobies were undoubtedly well-sized and pretty. Certainly, something to stick her chest out about. Nothing amiss with what Trish produced either. All four pairs, pleasing to the eye and interestingly varied. Undoubtedly a joy for Oliver to sweep his eyes around. The more so because the lucky man had them all to himself for the day. Not that he had not had his hands on Trish's the night before.

"Does the captain wear anything at all?" asked Phoebe.

"He does when passing other boats," replied Oliver.

"We aren't at present."

"Go on, Oliver," added Molly.

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Take them down then." he did not want to relinquish control of the wheel.

It was not having girls undoing the cord to his swimming shorts and lowering them that did it -- the delightful eight exposed boobs had done that. The 'captain' at the wheel was, all at once, not only naked but it was revealed he was strongly erect as well.

"You do look great like that, Oliver," said Phoebe.

"Thank you," a big smile from Oliver. The compliment genuine. So good to know the girls and not just him were having a good time and not just going along with their side of the bargain vis a vis the holiday. They seemed to be actually really enjoying the sex side of the holiday along with the sand and sea.

Perhaps a man standing at the wheel of a small boat naked and with his penis very much up in the air at a rakish angle does look rather good. Oliver had even put a nautical cap on -- on his head -- and he did look the part. 'Captain' Oliver and his crew. Across the blue water they went, the engine chugging away. All quite wonderful. It was another glorious day.

The girls did not just stick with being topless. It was not long before Phoebe was sunbathing naked. Was her lying there with legs rather open towards Oliver, her completely denuded pussy open and, frankly, inviting, just so deliberate?

Oliver wondered if he was going to find the girls somewhat competing for his attention that day. He was very happy with that idea. His little harem vying to be favoured by the sultan, sheik or whosoever might have a harem's attention. Who might indeed? A Robinson Crusoe character shipwrecked with many women, or perhaps shipwrecked with a party of schoolgirls (oh dear!); a tribal leader entitled to many women; a potentate of old, again entitled to many concubines; or, from the animal kingdom, the dominant male in a herd or flock, siring the group's offspring; or simply, Capt. Oliver and his all-female crew. Certainly, it was rather Oliver and his harem for a week. He liked the ideas. It did nothing to lessen his erection. And that was good too -- steering the boat, standing there with his cock so up.

He smiled as Molly too slipped her striped bikini bottoms down and off. Lots of dark curls all at once on show. What a pleasure they were, a pleasure to part those legs and see yet more curls. He would do that. Most certainly. His intention to take the girls ashore and copulate with all of them. And why not? They seemed willing.

"Boat coming," Oliver called. A sudden redressing with Molly wrapping a towel around him, pulling it tight so his erection was not too prominent. Of course a risk if she had not tied it tightly enough that, as they passed the other boat, the towel might unwind and present the occupants of the other boat with the rather surprising view of a man at the wheel both fully naked and sporting a very respectable (or rather not at all respectable) erection.

Molly, though, had been careful, but it was rather amusing to be promptly undressed again as soon as the other boat had passed.

"That is a good look, Oliver," said Trish, "our captain very much standing at the wheel."

"It does," added Lisa, "looks good enough to..."

"Yeah, let's all have a suck," butted in Phoebe. "Would you like that, Oliver?"

Of course he would. He would not mind that at all. What man would not like a bunch of girls asking to suck his cock? Not him asking them, but they asking him, even if he was at the wheel of a boat! A little bit like driving a car when the pretty girl in the passenger seat, casually reaches past the gear stick and unzips or unbuttons your fly, extracts and then proceeds to lean right over and fellate you as you try and concentrate on the road ahead of you. Not so difficult on an empty straight road in the country -- an interstate highway or something -- but in a busy town... And there is nothing you can do but protest and keep those hands clamped on the steering wheel, your eyes on the road and the rearview mirrors. Try not to think about that wet mouth, those stroking, so pretty lips or that naughty, wriggling so soft, so tickling tongue. And if she makes you cum -- you have no say in that, it is an involuntary action caused by over stimulation of the mind and the penis -- you have to keep your eyes open.

"Just a little snack," she says, "thank you." Why could she not simply have found the toffees or peppermints in the glove box? Isn't there a packet of biscuits in there? A can of Coke?

In a car you don't get four girls in succession. Unlikely they come clambering over the back seat to suck your cock! Oliver, though, was getting just that. Not enough to give any of them a 'little snack' but enough to keep him as upright and stiff as that gear stick in the car.

Oliver was still erect when he moored the boat a little offshore from a cove he knew. A pretty little cove not accessible, or not easily, from the land. He was pleased to find it deserted. It would have been a disappointment to find another boat or even canoes drawn up on the sand.

"We swim ashore," he announced.

"Naked," asked Molly.

"Oh, I think so. Would that be exciting? Leaving your modesty in the boat."

A giggle. "Look who's talking."

Oliver was standing there with his cock fully up, peeled and anything but modest. A mature and naked man with four girls.

"You'll be needing this," added Molly, tapping his knob, all wet from their mouths.

"I do hope so," said Oliver.

It was not something Molly had even contemplated. Not when in the Rose and Crown, not on the bus thinking about the possible holiday, or even when in bed -- still thinking about what might happen on the holiday, and worrying about it. She had not thought of leaving her clothes behind and swimming naked ashore to a secret cove. The idea of being so far from any modest covering was rather unnerving. Admittedly, her clothes or at least her bikini, would be not many yards off shore in the boat, but still...

And there she was, swimming with her friends and Oliver, none of them with anything more than hats on.

Molly's hands touched the sand and she stood. A naked girl on a new shore, the little cove with its rocks and sand there before her. She walked out of the water and turned to see the rest of them rising and walking onto the beach. Naked bodies dripping water, salty water falling from nipples and Oliver's now shrunken penis. Four rather pretty and naked girls and one older naked man. A man and his harem!

"Well," said Phoebe, "isn't this just perfect?"

They stood in a line looking out to sea, at their little boat bobbing in the water; the aquamarine sea with the little waves coming up the white sand; the almost perfect blue of the sky with just a hint of fluffy white clouds; the edges of the cove coming around to make it just that -- a secret cove.

"Back in the Rose and Crown or Gusto Da Gianni, could we even conceive how lovely this is. You know, if Gianni was here, I might just let him..."

"Not with his big pepper grinder, Phoebe! Not really!"

"Well, I was rather thinking of something else, Trish. I'm sure we could accommodate Gianni as well as our host, Oliver. There's enough of us. I wonder what Gianni would look like naked, fresh from the sea. I'd be happy to take him in hand."

And to show what she meant, Phoebe reached out and held Oliver's wet penis. And, presumably, just as the missing Giovanni Il Cazzo, 'Gianni', would have done, he erected. What a thing for a man of mature years to be doing. Out in lovely sunshine, naked with four equally bare young ladies, about to explore but with his cock up and erect.

"Shall we see what we can find?" asked Oliver. He knew he had been there before.

"Perhaps a cave," ventured Lisa.

"Cracks and crevices," added Molly, "I'm sure Oliver can find some that interest him!"

"I'm sure I can. I'm sure I can," said Oliver, patting Molly's bottom. Again, what a delight for the man. Not to have to ask if he wished to touch any of the four girls. They set off. Phoebe saw her role to keep Oliver stiff.

There was, indeed, a bit of a cave, a sea cave, which would be useful to provide shade.

"You've been here before?" asked Trish.

Oliver said he had, but alone.

"You thought it would be a good place to bring girls, did you?"

"It sort of occurred to me."

"Did you swim ashore naked?" asked Phoebe.

Oliver said he had not, he had wanted to see the lie of the land first, but finding the cove all deserted had soon dispensed with his trunks and left them to dry on a rock.

"Did you think of girls coming with you and placing their bikinis on the rock to dry as well? Did you have a little wank all by yourself at the thought?"

"It's not something I often talk about to ladies." Oliver shook his head. "Having a wank!"

Not usual at all. Hardly something talked about by men at all -- even amongst friends. Conceivably they might talk about a good and erotic dream but not mention it was wet one. Even if they mentioned the dream, they would not mention the ensuing creamy spasm in their pyjamas, the wet or stiff patch in the morning. They would not say that they had a wank on waking at the recollection, or talk about what they thought about whilst stroking, still less that a further spasm occurred. Men do not talk about wanking.

Not likely, coming into the office in the morning, coffee in hand, to just start talking about their last wank or receive a jolly, pleasant and well-meaning enquiry across the desk, 'did you have a good wank last night?" Not from a male colleague or a female colleague, not even from a good and close friend. Just not at all likely. No exchange of wanking stories, no chance of other ears pricking up and an interesting conversation and discussion ensuing from desk to desk. Work not getting done.

What would it be like disclosing just how long you wanked, how successful it was and precisely what you thought about -- revealing to, perhaps, a very pretty, young woman opposite your most private and not at all public thoughts. Perhaps the thoughts rather peculiar, perhaps socially unacceptable, or just really rather tame -- vanilla not exotic. What would it be like if the words to your pretty colleague were picked up by your boss or just the man who sits at the next desk?

Do your fantasy or fantasies get analyzed in front of you? Does the pretty girl go so far to say she might 'use' your fantasy herself that very night? Does she disclose -- of course she should, what with you being so frank -- details of what she does in her own in bed? Perhaps with a toy of some description -- and will you not, and your colleagues, want to hear more about that? Details indeed! Colour, size, shape, is it battery-powered (perhaps USB chargeable!)? Realistic or not? Perhaps she will bring it in to show! How good it will be to hear her fantasies? Will they be all romantic? Historical romances culminating in sweet little imagined bed scenes or rather more 'robust', like your own fantasies? Will you enjoy the surprise of hearing about kinky things - spanking, multiple men, black leather? Might you choke in your coffee when the pretty girl mentions her bukkake fetish?

Really? Could she elaborate? Is it a dream or a fantasy? Surely a dream, the girl sitting there, recalling for all the waiting ears a rather vivid and undoubtedly messy dream or fantasy. Your coffee mug frozen to your lips as you hear her talking about staring down the barrel of a 'gun', no, not one but two - twin barrels, the men in her dream together like a double-barrelled shotgun and cumming. It all so thick, creamy, white, and warm. Indeed, delivering for her perfect cum shots (whatever that might be), rope after gooey rope... The scene, described in enthusiastic and remarkable detail by her.

You quite amazed to hear the male delight in ejaculation seemingly coming from a female perspective - the other end of the 'gun'. How wild might she be in her thoughts or dreams? The pretty girl's lips talking of swimming in a pool of cum, perhaps a rather Lilliputian fantasy; having to wank three dozen cocks before midnight, a challenge; the idea of a cock which just will not stop cumming...

There they were on the beach. Oliver revealed to the girls he had been there before and what he had done. What would ensue this time, when he did not need to imagine girls removing bikinis? They were already there and bikinis had been left on the boat.