Unexpected Threesome Ch. 12

She put one of her hands between her legs and used its fingers to push her bikini bottoms back into her snatch as deeply as the material would allow, then grasped my erection, still sheathed in my flimsy swimwear and penetrated herself with it, sitting up to help her bear down on it.

Straddling me cowgirl style, she took the camera from my hands and laid it still running on my chest, then grasped both my hands and brought them against her nipples, leaving no doubt I was to stimulate them.

I could sense my penetration of her was only about half way; all that her bikini bottoms would allow. But it was still an incredible feeling; tighter because of the extra material forced in there, the feeling of a fold or two of her bikini pants running down the length of my shaft where it had puckered rather than just stretched, warm with her body heat in contrast to the tepid water, of course wet and a sense my own tightly stretched swimwear was somehow sensitising the nerves embedded in the unyielding skin of my shaft.

Again, I had this terrible sense I was just going to climax prematurely, like hot cum was filling my cock and just wanted to escape in a rush of warm pleasure. Amy brought a hand down, circled the exposed base of my shaft and started playing the tip against her g spot. Her other hand stood the camera upright on my chest so it was filming down along my torso towards where our bodies joined.

Tilting my head up to look over the camera, I could see that she was pulling the already stretched down waist band of her bottoms open to give the camera a view along her exposed crease to where this swimwear covered shaft disappeared into her snatch, moving slightly as she worked it against the sensitive part of her vagina. Then satisfied the camera had got the shot she wanted, she released the waistband and started rubbing her bikini pants against her clit.

For me this was kinky central; way outside the bounds of anything I'd done before, even in the threesomes. I'm on my back underwater playing with the way her beautiful jutting nipples are pushing out her bikini top while my cock and half a bikini bottom is shoved up her sex. In the process, I'm fighting this incredible desire to just cum.

Amy spent a few minutes rubbing the tip of my cock against her g spot before she decided something wasn't working for her the way she wanted. She withdrew me, pulled her bikini pants out of her snatch and pulled aside the leg hem of them to let her repenetrate herself with me. Now it was just the thin, tautly stretched unlined material of my own swimwear that separated the flesh of my cock from that of her vagina.

It seemed to be more satisfying to her because she started to rub the tip of my shaft against her shallowly located g spot with more vigour; and then more again, with increased pressure against her sensitive spot, the rubbing of her clit growing faster too.

With a face mask and regulator blocking any signals from her expressions and her usual almost deafening vocalisations, they were the only signs I had that her climax must be approaching until I could detect from the hands I had on her breasts what felt like a quivering running through her torso.

A moment later and there was no doubt she was in the throes of a powerful orgasm. She was bent over, a massive stream of bubbles flowing form her regulator while I was sure I could hear a sound transmitted by the water something similar to a mid tone whale call. Her thighs were pulled in tight against mine as she jabbed the tip of my cock against what I could only assume was her g spot.

Moments later I felt her push slowly down; immersing the length of my still sheathed cock deeply in her womanhood.

Any sailor understands the incompressibility of water. I didn't think it was wise to start thrusting away at her, even from underneath, for fear it may do terrible things to her. But nor did I need to. That sense that my cock was full of hot cum anxious to escape in a sudden pleasurable rush had never left me. It had taken all my concentration on distracting thoughts to last this long.

As soon as I was fully immersed in her I felt her squeeze her pelvic floor muscles against my hard shaft. It was the final straw. Released from any obligation to hold back, I let it go and was rewarded by the ecstatic feeling of my manhood pumping its load into Amy's body; or more correctly in this case into my already much abused swimwear.

Amy didn't muck about once she was sure my own climax had run its course. She lifted herself off me, peeled my swimwear away from my still hard rod and brushed my seed out of it, causing mini clouds and tadpoles of sperm to drift away on the current.

As I watched her sitting on my thighs intently focused on the task, it struck me it had been no accident these damaged, unlined pair of swimwear had been sitting at the top of my draw. Amy had put them there. This moment had been planned by her from the outset. I was bemused by the thought; attracted by the kinkiness of her sexual inclinations. But also flattered that she was starting to feel confident enough to unleash them on me.

The bikini pounding she'd sought out last night had been interesting enough, but what she'd just organised was at a whole new level. I had to wonder, had it worked for her? Was her rearrangement of things half way through a sign that it hadn't? Even, why she was attracted to that particular fetish? It might be an interesting conversation with her on the boat on the way back.

Satisfied that she cleaned out my swimwear to her satisfaction, she stretched them back over my extended manhood and ran her hand along the length of it, sheathing it closely in the straining cloth.

Personally I'd found the underwater sex quite a turn on. Sharing her snatch with our swimwear less so. An interesting experience, yes. One that had felt quite nice and brought on an early release, yes too. But not one I was in a hurry to repeat, although if she wanted to I would. I would have much preferred to feel the naked surface of her vagina against the skin of my swollen manhood.

Mind you, I was sure that moment would come; if not with Amy than the others. Amy's use of the camera was transporting irrefutable evidence of our activities back to the yacht. I don't know why she wanted the footage nor what she planned to do with it, but it was unlikely the others wouldn't become aware of it. There's a big difference between just not telling and acting secretively and with the film aboard we'd be deeply into the territory of the latter for them not to find out and I don't like doing that. Issie and Ellen were booked to do a dive course while we were here and given the competitive situation on the boat, it was likely that one or both of them would give it a try as a way of exercising their newly acquired skills.

Amy signalled for us to surface and let herself drift up the short distance. I followed to find her on the surface with her mask off and regulator out of her mouth, grinning widely. But her words disclosed no trace of what she'd just instigated.

"We haven't got everything that Issie wants yet!"

A short conversation followed about what we still needed to get, followed by another dive which produced that and a bit more.

So about an hour after we'd first entered the water we were back in the boat stripping ourselves of our dive gear and sorting it out for the trip home.

There was so much I wanted to talk about, so much I wanted to ask her and yet I wasn't even sure it was appropriate to do so. But as is my way, I let the fool rush in where the angel fears to tread approach govern my thinking, even if I started tangentially to the real issues.

I motored slowly, both so there was more time and so we could talk without being drowned out by the motor and slapping waves.

"Do you mind Issie asking to you put on an objectifying show for the social media pages like that?"

Amy grinned at me; that broad patronising, you poor old fella grin that was actually rather cute. Putting on her most pretentious British voice, she looked down her nose at me.

"Oh, we have grown very proper in our dotterage, haven't we? Mustn't let us young ladies let all those nasty men see our naked ankles least they go wild with uncontrollable desire."

But with a quick change of countenance to something lighter but more matter of fact, she continued.

"When Frank found me I was an innocent, naïve, privately educated English waif. He built a wall around me so he could keep me for his own selfish pleasure, which meant I was never allowed to feel beautiful, let alone look it if another man might see me.

When you helped me see the light I realised that, not just was I attractive, but I wanted other people to see me as such. I think objectifying is a pejorative used by some feminists to supress women and make us feel we should never display our sexuality, or even just our bodies least some male projects sexuality onto them and I don't agree with that.

At this moment in my life I'm not scared of other men admiring or even lusting over images of me. It actually makes me feel good to think they might and you make me feel safe from any consequences of that. We don't give real names on the boat's social media accounts, so I don't think it will necessarily follow me forever, but even if it does, I'm not sure it's a big issue for me; a bit like a model, but not as well paid.

Anyway, I enjoyed fooling around for the cameras like that today; even before we really started fooling around if you know what I mean.

Besides, Issie is willing to join me in that, so I feel a certain safety in numbers. It looks like even Ellen might be willing to put on a show sometimes."

"What made you want to film the sex too?"

"Don't worry, that's not going on social media. I don't know. You do these things and then they're all over and the memory fades to nothing. I just wanted something I could look at to get a view from the outside of it; something to turn me on and reinforce my memory. I deliberately didn't get anything that would identify you so you didn't have to worry about it, so I hope you don't mind if I keep the footage."

"Why was it so erotic?"

"That's hard to say. Why is anything erotic? A bikini makes me feel sexy and I suppose I've just wanted to be able to make it part of sex. You know I have a thing about sex so passionate there's not time to get undressed, but I also like lots of bare flesh and a bikini sort of offers an opportunity to have both. Anyhow, I know they drive you wild too."

"Did it work for you?"

"Yes and no. It really turned me on to try it and I liked the feel of it, but it didn't work so well to tickle up my g spot, even if I did like rubbing my clit with it. Maybe next time I'll try something different like a hole in the crotch of my bikini pants!"

It was an unusual experience to have a girl discuss her sexual fetishes with me so openly; more so when I was the one she'd be putting them into action with.

"Won't that ruin a good bikini?"

"I saw some nice but cheap ones at the markets in Papeete. I should be able to get some here too."

"What about my swimwear?"

Amy put on her minx face and sultry voice.

"Now that was a turn on. I want to do that again."

"Why"

"I don't know. I always thought those swim pants looked cool the way they stuck to your cock. And it feels sort of interesting to play with them like that. It certainly worked a treat when I rubbed it against me."

That sort of told me I hadn't seen the last of that particular performance. With most of the questions I had now answered, I left the conversation to lapse into a contemplative silence. When Amy didn't say anything more, I slowly upped the revs of the motor to take us home.

As we approached the yacht, I saw the paddle board anchored over at the snorkelling area. Issie and Ellen were laid out sunning themselves rather seductively on it. With a head at either end, their legs were interlocked at their thighs and dangling in the water so they could find room for their combined heights. As we approached the yacht they too got up and paddled themselves back to the transom.