Sail to Despair

It was another fine day for sailing, with fourteen knots on the beam, slight seas, and the warm tropical air with just a hint of the heady humidity of the approaching Wet season, SV Interlude, a Mottle 33, was reaching along with a comfortable six and a half knots on the log. They were now approximately halfway to the archipelago – still some three hundred nautical miles away – perhaps another three days if the projected forecast of weather conditions remained stable.

And it would be almost perfect too for Interlude's skipper, Ross, and his crew of one, Angela (who was also Ross's lovely wife of over fifteen years) - except for their recent act of mercy...

Ross was at the helm once more, the time at the wheel gave him some solace – always had actually – but now even more so. He knew he probably didn't really need to hand-steer – the auto-helm in these favourable conditions used little power – but helming was one of the fine pleasures of sailing – not to mention that his other favourite past-time whilst at sea, relaxing with a good book, was anything but 'relaxing' with their present company in close proximity.

"She's a good-looking sort, matie..."

Here we go again, Ross thought, as he feigned a smile in the direction of the older man who was leaning back against the stainless-steel lifelines nearby, eating yet more of Interlude's limited provisions – a can of tuna this time.

"Yep... I'm a lucky man alright, Nat... lucky indeed," Ross said, almost gritting his teeth.

It must have been close to the tenth time in a little over 24 hours that Nat had commented on Angela's attractiveness – and it was starting to wear thin.

"She's got really nice hair, matie... really nice...Nice the way it's all blowin' back in the wind an' all... Kinda free-lookin'... Yeah, you two are real lucky ta do this sorta thing when ya's both young enough..." Nat scooped out some more tuna with his calloused fingers and dropped it into his gaping mouth. He chewed noisily for a moment as if in thought, and then he continued, "Wish I'd been lucky enough when I was younger... but nah... work commitments... Some of us have ta work, hey matie?"

Ross looked in the direction of Nat's gaze once more. And regardless of the uncouth man's almost lascivious comments, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Angela as she lay facing the bow with her back against the starboard shrouds. She'd been there for a couple of hours now – holding a particular pose – head almost thrown back, allowing her long blonde hair to flow without its usual well-banded ponytail that normally restrained it all from knotting in the breeze.

Angela looked quite relaxed, resting partly on her elbows, and partly against the shrouds, her tanned legs were bare and open slightly, with one knee raised and positioned quite casually against Interlude's cabin.

For a woman in her early forties, Ross could not fault how nice she looked in her black bikinis. It was the first time he had seen her wear them too – and although they looked fantastic on her, Ross thought they were quite cheeky in their present company.

At a glance, her bikini top looked to be a fairly basic triangular affair – except the bottom edges of the cups were not fixed to the back-strap in the usual manner, but free move – a bit like a drawstring on a bag or pyjama bottoms. The beauty of this was it allowed the wearer to bunch-up the material of the cups until they were mere strips if she so desired, or she could position them so they fitted her shape better...

Angela had them bunched-up about half way so they looked like little more than strips of single-layer lycra only a few centimetres wide – Ross had to admit that worn as such the top seemed to suit her smallish breasts quite perfectly – even if minimalist.

The bikini bottoms were of a low-waisted Brazilian cut with rakish curves that exposed a generous portion of her firm round buttocks. The cut in itself was daring to say the least, but the highlight of the garment's design was the seam stitched into the fine material that ran from a vee in the waist-band at the front, to the middle of the band at the back – in effect, it looked like the bikini had been cut in half and then the left half restitched to the right half. When worn, the seam rode up neatly between Angela's buttocks and if she wasn't too careful, it also gave her an impressive camel-toe at the front – no doubt, something they were designed to do.

"The young fella's doin' a good job, I reckon, matie... I might go forward again... That's what you sailors like ta call it, in'it? Forward?" Nat tossed the empty tuna can over the side, oblivious once again to Ross's insistence in not doing so with their rubbish, "Yep, the lad's a bloody good artist is all I can say... Gunna be a great portrait! Lucky coincidence your wife had all her arty stuff on board, hey!"

Lucky indeed – Angela was a total novice artist – something she'd only recently taken up. She'd brought her 'arty stuff' along as a first – determined to try a few seascapes along the way as a rewarding pastime during their passage north.

Ross took a deep breath and grimaced as he watched the shirtless-back of the heavily-tattooed wiry old man working his way forward toward where Angela lay posing for the young artist. Interlude was not a large vessel by any means and within a few steps Nat had come along side of Angela.

Ross gritted his teeth as he watched the old man rest a gnarly hand upon Angela's bare shoulder in an all too familiar way like a caring friend might do – something Nat had now done several times since recovering sufficiently from his recent ordeal at sea.

The old man looked back at Ross briefly and smiled – and Ross shot him back a look as if to say, 'Get your hand off my wife!'

Now if Ross's look was meant as a sign of his disapproval, it appeared to have had absolutely nil effect upon the recalcitrant Nat. The old man now hesitated from stepping past Angela – and with his hand still resting upon her shoulder; he stooped over so his weathered face was quite close to hers and spoke softly to her as he began to draw small circles with the tips of his fingers over the front of her shoulder. Angela giggled a couple of times and shrugged her shoulders coyly as if he was tickling her – but he continued to talk to her whilst caressing her shoulder regardless... until the palm of his hand was resting on the lovely soft swelling of flesh, that in essence, was the upper part of her right breast.

Ross was beginning to fume with the older man's familiarity and he watched his wife's bikini-clad breasts heave slightly as she took a couple of deep breaths. As if it was a signal of compliance, Nat's hand crept downward another centimetre or two – and then Angela giggled again and wriggled side to side as if attempting to shake his adventurous hand off. Her misguided efforts appeared to have a contrary effect, making her pert little breasts jut out even more as her bikini top slipped to one side.

Seconds ticked by as Ross stood tensely behind the wheel – he was ready to make a scene – he didn't care at that moment how close the old bugger had been to dying a couple of days ago, he was stepping over the line!

And then as if almost on purpose, Angela raised her head once again to let her long hair flow back over her shoulders - effectively obscuring Ross's view of what Nat was doing! Angela seemed to be looking down her body as she lent back on her elbows – while the old man, still leaning over her, continued to chat softly.

Ross could not see what he was doing, but in his mind's eye he was almost certain the old man's fingertips were working her top to one side – possibly drinking in the sight of one of her nipples... Perhaps he was flicking it with the tips of his fingers to draw it to erection... Perhaps!

Ross swallowed hard as he thought of his wife's nipples – she had lovely nipples, without a doubt one of her best features, long and plump when hard and quite dark in colour...Almost as large as cherries and possibly twice as sweet...

Then Ross told himself he was being bloody-minded – as if his wife would allow such a thing to happen! Maybe he was getting paranoid; maybe it was the tropical sun and he needed some more water... Or maybe his long-dormant over-possessiveness was resurfacing after all these years?

Suddenly, as if to set his mind racing further, Angela let out a squeal and laughed, "Hey!"

Nat chuckled – a shrewd look on his face. As he straightened back up, Angela looked up at the old man pensively. Had Ross been a few metres closer, he would have detected an unspoken exchange between his wife and Nat, and wondered as to its significance.

Slipping his hand back up to Angela's shoulder for support, Nat proceeded to make his way forward to where his young friend sat sketching. Nat took a small step just as the yacht lurched over the crest of a small wave and slightly off-balance, his bare foot came down between Angela's partly opened thighs – almost without thinking, the brief contact caused her to open her legs wider so as to allow Nat a firmer foothold...

Once again, the old man took her reaction as some sort of compliance and he shuffled his foot backward until his heel made brief, but solid contact with the thin black-lycra covering her pudenda – slowly, he lifted his foot to continue forward, rubbing her momentarily as if his heel had an itch...

Angela felt herself blush at the man's lewd contact – she wanted to believe that the initial contact had been accidental – but it was blatantly obvious to her that what followed was less than accidental. She wondered if she should have said something – you know, let him know that it was totally unacceptable behaviour – but his boldness had surprised her so much that her chance to react had passed – besides, she didn't think anyone else noticed, so she decided to ignore it this time. If anything like it happened again, she was going to be ready!

Ross watched the old man sit next to Callum by the mast and pick up the sketch pad from the young man's lap. The old man nodded appreciatively and looked back toward Ross.

"I'll be fucked! You orta see this, ol' matie," Nat called back to Ross, "The kid's brilliant! Amazing likeness of your gorgeous wife... she looks like a fuckin' centrefold!"

Nat looked from Ross and back down to Angela – she avoided his scrutiny and let her head loll backwards, once again with her eyes closed, and she smiled wryly, as if somewhat embarrassed by his coarse compliment.

Nat noticed that her bikini top seemed to be slightly askew now and was only barely covering her otherwise perfectly erect nipples...

Whistling softly in appreciation, he savoured the sight of her near-nakedness – her slim waist was tanned and flat-looking and her thighs, smooth and firm, if anything, now lay open even more invitingly than moments ago...

Nat's gaze drifted to her tiny black bikini bottoms that his heel had rubbed against momentarily – the seam of the narrow strip of material was now wedged partway into her cleft and he noticed that a portion of her smooth outer-labia was quite visible on either side!

He could feel his cock harden at the sight of her – if Angela was aware of how wanton she looked to him at that moment, she feigned indifference to perfection!

It had been a long time since he'd had the pleasure of lying between the thighs of a woman – any woman! Angela was like a dream come true – and seven years in jail had done little to abate his lust for women!

Nat looked briefly at his young friend – a crooked smile upon his face – poor young kid shouldn't have been in jail at all – culpable driving had given him a five year sentence – once the old hands in jail had started to hit on the handsome young man, it hadn't taken much to convince him to escape with him during an afternoon of "privileged" road maintenance on one of the highways.

After being on the run for several days, they'd stolen a large boat from an unguarded marina. They'd planned on making it to the Spice Islands – only thing was, neither of them knew jack-shit about boats, and even less about navigation! Two days out they'd run aground on a reef and they'd taken to the dinghy – three days later – both nearly dead from dehydration, they'd been rescued by Interlude...

Their recovery had been nothing short of amazing – of course, neither Ross nor Angela knew the pair of them were escaped prisoners – but they did think the pair's lack of seamanship was rather odd to say the least.

Nat now looked back at the partially completed portrait – Callum actually had two he was working on – one was a full portrait of Angela as she lay in-situ; outlines and shading almost complete and quite accurate, but with one exception – Callum had taken some artistic licence and had completely omitted her bikini!

The second portrait was a far more detailed image of her from the waist up – here he'd captured her true essence magnificently; her long blonde ringlets framed her features perfectly; her eyes looked serene and her full lips appeared to have a beckoning gloss to them. And his careful shading accentuated the finely muscled definition of her neck and shoulders – the effect was so lifelike that it could have been a black and white photographic image!

But once again there was an exception – Callum had completely omitted her bikini top – even as small as it was! Instead, he had only partially completed her breasts – the shape and size looked quite right of course, but the detail compared to the rest of the image was sadly lacking – his impression of her nipples and areoles were represented by no more than a few very faint outlines...

Of course, the missing detail wasn't lost on Nat and he was keen to see if he could help rectify the problem.

"Hey matie, I hope ya don't mind me sayin' so... But it looks ta me that Angie 'ere needs ta show her titties proper for young Callum 'ere to capture her full beauty for real!" Nat stated, while smiling sardonically.

Nat looked back down at Angela and although she appeared to be oblivious to his ribald remark, with her eyes still closed – he noticed her smile briefly. For fuck'sake she was a horny-looking bitch, he thought to himself.

"Unlikely, Nat, very unlikely!" Ross called back, trying to act blasé.

"Hey, don'cha go all Capt'n Bligh on us now! 'Ave a bit a fun matie! Be a ball-tearer of a portrait then, hey," Nat sniffed, "An' I reckon she wouldn't mind too much... Hey, Angie, ya keen for it?"

Ross gripped the wheel firmly – the old man was testing his patience once again! But he didn't want to show him that his comments were really bugging him – he didn't want to appear that he was a stick-in-the-mud – but most of all, he didn't want to let his jealous, possessive side rear its ugly head to his wife once again! God knows their early years together were fraught with one fight after another because of his sometimes extreme jealousy over her if she had so much as talked to another man at a party – or worse – if she had actually danced with one!

"Well, Angie, my little blonde-bombshell?" Nat pushed again, "Whaddayareckon? 'Ave a look at Callum's effort 'ere," he said as he carefully held up the second sketch for her to look at.

Angela lifted her head slowly and blinked a few times as she focused on the portrait held not more than half a metre from her, "Wow! It's fantastic, Callum, you are a truly gifted young man! I only wish I could draw half as good!"

"Yeah, but what's missin?" Nat asked.

"Umm... Well... Let me see... I'd say my bikini top?"

"Some've the detail, Angie, the detail!" Nat shot back, "Let 'im get the fuckin' detail finished properly an' you'll have a portrait worth framin' me love."

"Oh... I don't know," Angela said dreamily, running her tongue over her plump lips.

She continued to admire the partially finished portrait – it was exceptional, and to think the young man managed it all while perched on a yacht as it pitched and rolled as they sailed along at six knots or so. With every other aspect of the portrait so incredibly accurate, it was somewhat unfortunate that the missing detail of her breasts made the image look quite unfinished.

"Um... Callum, just how long do you think you'd need to... you know... to finish the missing bits?" Angela asked pensively.

Vanity prevailed!

Callum pondered for a moment, "Orr... I reckon 'bout half an hour or so, I guess."

"Half an hour? Um... well... okay, I guess. I don't mind too much... But I think the final call is up to Ross..."

"Hey Roscoe, your call, matie, your call?"

Ross gritted his teeth and exhaled – Angela often sunbaked topless when they sailed alone and he had to admit that he loved it then. And then there'd been a couple of rare occasions on holidays that it had happened too, like over in Thailand recently she'd gone topless a few times. Of course, there were other couples there that were just as uninhibited, so he hadn't minded too much – not even when the handsome young pool boys brought their drinks over and smiled down at her and cheekily offered to "give pretty lady nice massage".

So was this any different, he asked himself? He tried to be cool about it...

"Up to you, Ange, up to you really... It's your body..." Ross said, effectively capitulating.

Angela looked back over her shoulder to her husband and smiled, "They're only boobs, Ross... Not like I'm going to be completely naked or anything."

Turning back to Nat she looked him in the eye, "Now if I do this, no blatant ogling, you old bugger, okay?"

Nat raised his bushy eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'who me? I'm innocent.'

"This is for 'arts sake' okay? Not for your personal viewing pleasure, Nat," she stated, "And I don't think you should hang around watching either... I don't think I can trust you!" she said to him as she pursed her lips and pulled a face in mock admonition.

"Aw Angie, they're 'only boobs' aren't they?" Nat said sarcastically, "No matter... I'll go back if ya don't want me admirin' ya beauty a little longer."

Looking a bit slighted, Nat went to step past her again just as Angela reached for one of the shrouds to help pull herself up into a sitting position...

"Hang on a second," she said as she reached behind her neck and pulled on the thin ties to her bikini top, undoing the bow easily, "Take this back for me so it doesn't blow away."

Nat stood looking down at her, his right hand also gripping the shroud for support, and his foot once again planted neatly between her parted thighs, "Yeah, sure."

A puff caused the yacht to heel over a few degrees briefly just as Angela let the ties slip from her fingertips and the small garment clung tenaciously to her breasts for a few moments – the breeze holding it in place...

Nat watched her as she ran her hands behind her back to undo the other strap – her actions were perfunctory to say the least, like she'd done it a million times before. Then with one hand gripping the bikini top from the front, Angela successfully slipped the bow and pulled the tiny garment free and held it out for Nat to take from her.

Nat couldn't help but chuckle when her breasts came into view – lovely as they were – almost as tanned as the rest of her, with barely a noticeable tan line anywhere – and her brown nipples looked to be growing larger by the second! He would only have to move his knee about ten or fifteen centimetres and he would be able to test their mettle...

"There ya go me boy... see if you can capture the beauty of those two tasty-looking mounds of flesh now hey," Nat said, as he pocketed her bikini top 'for safe keeping'.

"Okay Nat... Off you go please," Angela said, as she looked up at the older man.

Nat stole another glance – and he felt his throat go dry – he had a sudden urge to grab the woman from behind her head and pull her face into his crotch! His cock was hard and he wanted her to feel it – he wanted to twist her long hair in his fingers and force his cock in past her sweet lips – and he wanted to fuck the horny-looking bitch's face until his load shot down her throat!