3 Blondes, 3 Men, 1 Boat, Hedonism & Me
A South Pacific Sex-capade
My husband had finally forgiven me for a host of sins in our fifth year of marriage, so I decided it was an ideal time to try to destroy what we had between us once again. I didn’t set out to do that, but my impulsiveness and sense of adventure got the better of me. I don’t blame myself, naturally. I never do. The people who bear that guilt are the people who egged me on.
It all started as a two-week trip to New Zealand with a new boyfriend. He was rich, English, tall and good looking but he wasn’t much fun to be with and that’s a deal-breaker for me. But I wanted to get away from London for a bit and he paid for first-class seats, so I went along for the ride. I ditched him about three days after we landed in Auckland when I ran into Jade and Susan, two blonde Australian girls who were hell-bent on having fun.
I moved into their small apartment they had rented in Ponsonby, a kind of hipster neighborhood in Auckland. I was just going to hang out with them for a few days until I went back to London, but I was having a lot of fun and didn’t really want to rush back.
Jade and Susan had an admirable desire to hang out with rich men, something I can relate to. They weren’t married, like me. They were on the hunt which is why we ended up talking to three handsome Kiwis at the Royal New Zealand Yacht Club one evening and I ended up in bed with one of them later that night. His name was Ryan, which was convenient because my husband’s name is Brian.
I don’t remember what the first night with him was like because we were both pretty pissed when he took me back to his house in Parnell, a suburb in Auckland. I remember the morning, though. He woke me up by going down on me and brought me to a really intense orgasm and then he fucked me like a porno star. He was relentless, flipping me around from position to position and making me cum repeatedly and then, in porno style fashion, he came all over my face. It was fun, which is how I like my sex to be. And his cock more than filled me.
Ryan had the look of a surfer. He had dreamy blue eyes, a great body and sun-bleached hair. As he seemed to have no visible means of support, I assumed he had inherited money. The house in Parnell was modern and expensively furnished, with original art on the walls. He read and he had an interest in the greater world, but he was no genius. However, sex was great, and he had a wonderful cock to play with.
Over breakfast he asked me if I wanted to sail with him and his friends to Papeete, mentioning that we would be stopping in Suva on the way. I figured a couple of days on a boat might be fun, so I said yes. I had no idea where either of the destinations were, but I wasn’t inclined to display my ignorance.
Ryan was in his late twenties and I mistakenly gave him the impression I was a few years younger than him. I often have difficulty remembering my exact age. That allows me to tailor it around the men who are interested in me.
Fortunately for me, Jade and Susan had also spent the night fucking Ryan’s two other friends, but they were more imaginative than me and had a foursome which gave them a chance to judge their future partners against one another. They had also accepted invitations to go on the trip.
We met up in the apartment in Ponsonby and Jade gave me an education in packing for a sailing trip. She made me go buy a canvas bag and the best electric razor I could find. Shaving your legs and underarms with a normal razor at sea is kind of difficult. Shaving your pussy on the rocky seas is downright dangerous. She also had me get short and long sleeve t-shirts and shorts and cotton knickers. Since I had my boob job, I don’t really have to wear a bra.
We also made a pact between us that there would be no jealousy because it was highly likely we would all be fucking all three of the men. I didn’t realize it at the time just how often we would be doing that. Susan had hooked up with Mac, a Kiwi who was built like a rugby player. Jade had paired herself with Richard, who was quiet and a little intellectual. That’s all relative, of course, because we were in the antipodes after all.
We created nicknames for the men that stuck throughout the voyage. Ryan was forever known as ‘Faceboy’ for his fondness for cumming on our faces. Mac’s handle was ‘The Thickster’ due to the thickness of his cock. I was particularly fond of that feature. Richard’s moniker was ‘Kinkster’ because he was really into spanking, both on the giving and receiving end. Little did we know it at the time, but we were simply referred to as Slut One, Slut Two and Slut Three. I took it as a compliment that I was number one on that list. Our nicknames were quickly shortened to just our numbers and I grew quite used to being called ‘one’ throughout the trip.
Little did we know at the time that the three men were on a daily course of Cialis, which made them interested in fucking virtually all the time. They just took it as a performance-enhancing pharmaceutical. I’m hypersexual so that worked for me but sluts two and three began looking fucked out after about a week. They had that vacant stare that some men have after days of combat.
Faceboy and I shared the forward cabin. He owned the 58-foot schooner so we got the biggest room. Our V-shaped bed was ideal for sex, particularly when the boat was on a close haul or close reach and the bow was pounding into the waves. Sleeping was another matter, unless the boat was going downwind, and that didn’t happen very often on the first leg of the trip.
I had a few freak outs on the first couple of days of the trip. What I assumed was going to be a couple of days on a boat to Suva and Papeete was actually going to be a month-long expedition. When my phone lost reception, I couldn’t quite believe it. Then a realization hit me. My slutty mother was going to use my absence, once again, to move right in on my husband in London and I had no way of keeping track of either of them. After we lost sight of land, I got scared for the first time. I realized that we were really on our own in a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Faceboy assured me that the boat had the best possible electronics and could basically sail itself. He demonstrated it all to me with an air of confidence that reassured me. Until everything broke down. We had a way to keep track of where we were, but the boat definitely did not sail itself. We had to break up into three shifts to take the helm.
By the third day at sea, I had been fucked by all three of the men as had sluts two and three. I particularly enjoyed being fucked by the Thickster because his cock filled my pussy like few men can. The Kinkster never spanked me like he did with sluts two and three. He just loved going down on me which I was very happy to allow him to do. When he finally got around to fucking me, his face was slick with my juices. He really got into going down on me during my period. A lot of men have that kink which is, once again, perfectly OK with me.
No matter how luxurious a yacht is, it’s still a boat. It’s cramped and uncomfortable and never steady. Sailing in the ocean is like learning how to live day-to-day on a roller coaster. The showers are crap because they are saltwater and that isn’t the greatest beauty treatment. After we landed and docked in Suva, I made Faceboy get us a hotel room in the most expensive resort. I slept over 12 hours a night for that week and had porno sex, culminating in a climax on my face. about four times a day.
I didn’t quite realize Suva was the capital of Fiji until about the third day I was there. I was so exhausted at first, I didn’t really care where I was, I was just happy to be off the boat. I did venture out and explore around on my own. It was interesting but, to be honest, I wouldn’t bother going back.
The next leg of the journey was to the Cook Islands. Once again, we were against the wind the entire time, so our forward cabin was bouncing against the waves constantly. I took to doing the night shift on the helm with the Thickster. I spent most of the evening either sucking his cock or riding on it. He had a knack for making me cum with his cockhead and when he did climax, it was inside me instead of on my face.
I wanted to avoid the daytime sun as much as possible. Even under an awning, the glare was tremendous. I slept through the morning and only came up on the deck in the late afternoon. The food was all packaged and tedious to eat so I basically lived on biscuits and water for the entire second leg of the trip.
The weather was bad the entire time, so it took us 14 days to dock at Rarotonga, at a resort outside of the main city. Once again, I forced Faceboy to book us a room and I slept for 12 hours straight the first night we were there.
Sluts two and three bailed on us in the Cook Islands. They had enough of life on a boat and being fucked 24/7. I used my husband’s card to take out enough money for them to pay for a flight back to Auckland.
My phone also died. It was a complete and total death brought about by inadvertently submerging it in saltwater. The memory was irretrievable which meant I had no way of finding out my husband’s phone number. I had never memorized it. I just relied on my phone to always work.
I was sure, by this point, my mother had a smug smile on her face as my husband took her out shopping in London and as she seduced him later in the evening. I was burning with jealousy and half inclined to bail out on the trip myself. The matter that I was now fucking three men daily did not assuage the rage I felt.
My mother is annoyingly confident in herself. She’s arrogant to a degree that I have never seen in any other woman. She’s also intelligent, funny and flirty and she can wrap a man around her little finger with almost no effort on her part. The fact that she was doing that to my husband made my blood boil. She had been sneaking into our marriage every time I had run off to do something stupid.
I spent the evenings in the resort pool with Faceboy sipping wine. I had little to no interest in exploring the rest of the island. I just wanted to rest before the final leg of the journey.
Thankfully, the final stretch of the trip to Tahiti wasn’t against the wind and the weather was nice. I limited each man to sex only twice a day each with me. That’s still getting fucked a lot, but it was fun. I bought some fresh fruit and vegetables before we departed so, for some of the trip, I did eat some healthy food.
Since our conversations were either around sex or whether or not we would actually survive the trip, we never got to know each other that well. You can talk an awful lot about the weather if it really is a life or death issue.
On the final leg, all our electronics went out so we had to use an old-fashioned sextant to find our position as well as radio transmission positioning, which isn’t incredibly accurate. The automatic winches started to go out so hauling up the sails had to be done manually. Even the stove blew a fuse, and we didn’t have a replacement. The bilge had to be pumped manually as well.
We had all lost weight during the trip. I am skinny anyway, but I was beginning to look worrisomely thin. I was also as tan as I had ever been in my life. I looked like a brown stick girl with big tits. Interestingly, the men got even more turned on by that.
Extraordinarily enough, we did make it to Papeete and docked the yacht at a local marina. I grabbed my bag and booked myself into Tahiti Nui Hotel, alone this time. I wanted to be away from the Kinkster, Faceboy and the Thickster for a few days. I also wanted to get a new phone and find out what my mother and husband were up to.
I ordered room service for three days and just stayed inside and watched television. I ignored the ringing from my room phone because I knew the calls were from the three men I had just spent a month with. I needed some privacy for a change. Finally, I went outside and shopped for some clothes and went to a phone shop and bought a new iPhone.
I did meet up with Faceboy for lunch on the fourth day and he confessed his love for me and asked if I would come back and live with him in Auckland. I was touched but I said no.
By calling friends in New York, whose numbers I could recall, I was finally able to get someone to ask someone else what my husband’s phone number was. I would have emailed him, but he has never bought a smartphone and seldom looks at his email account, except the one he uses for business and I don’t know that address.
I called dozens of times over the next few days and there was no answer. That’s when I really started to panic because each time I push the envelope of our marriage a little too far, I’m always conscious that I could cross the finish line. Competing with my mother for my husband’s affections is unreal, but that’s the result of deserting someone you love a little too often.
I made the decision to call my mother, who did answer. The conversation was short and bitter, but I felt much better at the end of it. I knew she was angry that I had the temerity to want to come back, once again, into my husband’s life and her anger was borne out of the recognition that he would welcome me back.
My mind at ease, I then began to look with interest at the young Tahitian men. A few days later I let one of them woo me into their bed. I spent another week in Tahiti enjoying it immensely. I would go back in a second and I would recommend Tahitian men to any sex-starved women out there with one caveat: get them while they are young. They tend to develop beer bellies later in life.
