Unexpected Threesome Ch. 23

But in some respects I'd found the whole process quite uncomfortable. Not because of anything Amy said or did, but because it suddenly occurred to me this fitted in with the whole sugar daddy thing and I was sure the assistant was judging me and, more importantly, Amy. In a way I shouldn't have cared. But I felt it slighted Amy for her to be regarded as some sort of gold digger attached to me for my money. If she was, she'd so far negotiated a very poor deal. I was well off enough I didn't need to charge the girls for their presence on the yacht and covered most of the expenses, but that was the limit of their benefits. Any one of them was beautiful and charming enough to have negotiated a much better financial deal with a much richer guy if that was their inclination. But it never was about that.

Still, since nothing was actually said, there was nothing I could do about it. Except for the fact Amy had put on such a display of affection that there could be no ambiguity as to our relationship, I would have been quite happy to infer she was my daughter or niece. But it was too late for that.

After I dropped the bag with the dress in it back to the room, we spent an hour and a half hanging around the main resort complex. A hit and giggle game of tennis – given we didn't have any sensible shoes – was followed by a session at the pool bar for nibbles and a couple of cocktails. Doing so was my suggestion. It might seem foolish to younger persons but it avoided the possibility the afternoon would simply turn into one long sex session. As I said, that was never my intention. The tennis was a nice diversion from what you can do on the yacht and I offered Amy the possibility of going for a walk along the beach, which she was less interested in.

Even the drinks got a bit steamy when Amy decided she wanted us to strip down to our swimwear and use the pool wet bar; sitting very close to me as we leaned over the bar and doing things with her spare hand under the water that left me with a giant boner and therefore unable to move until it settled back down.

But eventually it was time to head back to the bungalow to dress for dinner.

Still excited about her dress, Amy was keen to have the first shower; emerging naked from the bathroom with her hair and body washed; encouraging me to have my shower while she finished getting ready. When I came out she was wrapped in a resort dressing gown; her hair blow dried. As I vacated the room, she took it over, leaving me strict instructions not to enter until she said it was OK.

The creature that emerged from the bathroom took my breath away. I've never seen Amy like this before.

Washed, blow dried and styled, the front was plaited and pulled back around to frame the rest of her long hair which now seemed to float half way down her back. She looked straight out of a shampoo commercial, but better. For once her hair wasn't salt encrusted and damp, as all hair tends to be on the boat, and I could see how much its natural auburn colour had been sun and salt bleached; complimented by the blonde streaks she'd put in a week ago. As she did a couple of circles to show me the dress, one fast, one slow, her sensuous hair flew in a seductive arc around her.

Her beautiful complexion doesn't need makeup and she doesn't normally wear any. But this evening she was wearing an alluring lipstick; a pale red colour, which perfectly highlighted her full lips without overdoing it.

But her body in her new dress left me with my jaw on the floor. The one she wore to lunch might best be put in the category of sexy, hippie, bohemian. It was stunning in its casual display of her gorgeous figure.

This one would get any starlet at the Academy Awards the front page lead photograph in the next morning's tabloids.

Of an ice blue, shear, silky material, the halter neck plunged to below her navel; two strips of material dropped from her neck which were just wide enough to look elegantly ravishing rather than just slutty, but narrow enough to leave both side boob and cleavage boob. From the side you could see underboob as well; a tempting tunnel of revelation, which from the right angle, gave a window of vision straight through both falls of the top.

The unlined material made no effort to disguise her nipples which, in the cool air of the air-conditioned room, already broke the smooth fall of the cloth with towering, finely sculptured projections that left little to the imagination.

For the red carpet there would no doubt be some generous use of Hollywood tape to prevent accidents and hide the nipples. But Amy had allowed herself no such safety margin.

Those strips merged into a somewhat micro mini skirt (there wasn't really anything you could call a bodice) that provocatively circled her hips, in a way that was designed to be not quite tight enough to stay up of its own accord. As a result a fold of material dipped at the back to nearly reveal the base of her spine.

Frankly, the view of her back was nearly as arousingly sexy as that of her front. Amy's tall, straight, flawlessly fleshed back was delicately framed by the falls of the front pieces and a skirt which draped seductively over her shapely bottom.

In long white pants, a tucked in collared shirt and deck shoes, I felt like I was underdressed. Nothing but a full black tie dinner suit could possibly do justice to the privilege of accompanying this woman to dinner.

She turned around again.

"Do you like it?"

"You look stunningly beautiful. I love it."

"You know why I chose this one don't you?"

"Because you liked it best."

"Yes, that. But also because I saw the boner you grew in your pants when I tried it on. Just like the one you have now. Why do you think I made you stand up to look at each of the dresses?"

I was a bit taken aback. Yes, it had been my favourite because she looked so damned sexy in it. But I'd wanted her to pick something for her.

"But I hope it's the one you like too."

"Ned, never in my life have I felt as beautiful, as sexy and as confident about myself as I feel right now. In my life until now, I'd never been allowed to feel that way. I love the dress. I love the way it's inspired me to do my hair and make myself up to compliment it. I want people to see me in it and I want you to be on my arm as they do. Is it time to go?"

Amy offered me her arm and I slipped my own through it as I opened the door and let her go out first.

As we walked along the boardwalk towards the resort, I slipped my hand down to hold hers, whereupon she brought her second hand across, folded mine between hers and held it against her crotch.

"Have a feel of the panties I've got on."

As subtly as I could in the public sphere we were in, behind the camouflage of her own hands, I slipped two fingers under the hem of her dress and up against her crotch. I groped about for a moment but could find nothing but bare flesh; an impression confirmed when I found myself unintentionally penetrating between the lips of her crease.

"I can't feel any."

She turned towards me and grinned.

"Bingo. I've never gone commando before today. It's an interesting sensation. I could get to like it."

I grinned back and raised my eyebrows; uncertain whether to be alarmed or seduced by her brazenness. Going commando in the long dress she wore to lunch was one thing. In this mini, where bending over was bound to reveal whatever was or wasn't underneath was another level of boldness again. I was relieved I'd booked a table near the window where no one would have a view up between her legs from the other side of the room.

I realised I still had a lot to learn about Amy; not least of which is whether her desire to embrace her sexuality – and indulge so enthuasticly in it – is a temporary thing letting her make up for her years of repression or the real Amy that has been unleashed by her new found freedom.

Still the extra bit of provocation simply added to the sexual frission I felt just walking alongside her. To add to the prospect of nipple peaks, I now had the possibility of looking down the back of her dress and getting a view of her bare arse. I couldn't help but notice that everyone who walked past us did a double take from the moment we came into their view; the men trying not to be caught staring at Amy, the women no doubt judging us both, while being more brazen about their staring.

My own discomfort was compounded by the fact I had a half mongrel in my pants that just wouldn't settle down and that I was sure was discernible by those that chose to look; although with Amy next to me, who was going to be looking there?

As we walked into the dining room Amy slipped an arm around my back, her hand coming to rest on my butt. I reciprocated knowing full well it was likely Amy was making a statement to the head waitress we were approaching as to our relationship. If she was proud to be seen with me, then there was no reason I shouldn't be more than proud to be associated with her.

The young lady, with a heavy French accent, looked us up and down but managed to engage us with the usual pleasant and friendly greeting you expect from such a person. The poor young lad she called over to show us to the table had something more of a problem. When he saw Amy he turned into a stuttering, fumbling wreak; bumping into a table and nearly knocking over a chair as we weaved through the room towards our table. I could sympathise with him. Most young men have been there and Amy was well off the scale of women who make men feel inadequate as she was presented that evening.

I could even sympathise with his attempts to lead us at the same time as he tried to perve at Amy. You could see him trying to get an angle across her dress to see if he could get a nipple peak. He was trying to be subtle but completely failing and his distraction was at least partly to blame for his clumsiness.

Amy had taken my hand and was leading me as she followed him and I could see her positively enjoying having the young man melt in her hands. Not cruelly. Indeed she engaged him in small talk as he crossed the room. But trying to talk to her simply compounded his awkwardness.

The table I had booked was a small one at the front of the room where it looked out over the lagoon and what would soon be the setting sun. Instead of being square onto the window, it was positioned in a diamond format, so that by sitting side by side, instead of across the table from your partner, you could both have the view out the window.

I stood behind Amy as she sat down, pushing her chair in, even as I took my own opportunity to keep an eye out for any potential nipple peak. Then I took my chair next to her.

In due course we studied the menu and placed our orders including for a bottle of champagne. As the waitress walked away, there was a moment's silence. Then Amy delivered what was something of a bombshell.

"Do you know this is the first date I've ever been on?"

For a moment I was lost for words; especially as I realised I had to pick them carefully. I knew Frank had been her first and only boyfriend, so clearly any failure lay with him.

"Didn't Frank take you on some dates when you were first going out?"

"Not really. I met him when he and his mates used to go to dinner at the same pub as my family went to. So eventually I just sat with his group. Then when he knew he had me and I was living with him, there was this decision for his group of friends to change pubs, which isolated me from my family. Apart from that I got dragged to football matches with him and his mates so I could pretend I was enjoying the game and getting excited about it. I'm not sure I'd call any of that being on a date.

This is the first time I've gone out and sat alone at a table with a man. Well, I suppose lunch today was that. But you know what I mean."

She was looking at me somewhat reflectively. Again I gave my brain a moment to formulate what I thought was the right response.

I picked up her hand in mine and looked her in the eyes.

"You know Amy, you deserved much better than that. I just wish I was at least 20 years younger so I could really do justice to the privilege of being the first one to take you out."

"Why does age have anything to do with it? You easily do justice to whatever privilege it might be. Anyway, I'm the one who feels privileged that you're taking me out."

We just stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"Ned."

"Yes."

"Should being on a date make you feel aroused? I mean really, really aroused?"

I couldn't help but break into a broad smile; uncertain as to whether to give anything approaching a straight answer to the question.

"I sort of think that in a way is the whole purpose of the exercise. Maybe not fully aroused, but certainly aware of a sexual frission."

"No, it's way past frission."

She took her hand back, slipped it under the table and felt the front of my pants; judging the extent of my substantial state of arousal by squeezing my cock and feeling up and down its length.

"It's way past that too. You are going to get such a fucking when we get back to the room."

"Go easy on me. I'm an old man."

"Yea, sure. You've been up for it before. You'll survive; if only so I can do it again."

Our conversation was interrupted as the champagne arrived. We waited patiently as the waiter poured out a glass for each of us before leaving the bottle in an ice bucket on the corner of the table. I lift up my glass towards her.

"To us and to an extraordinarily beautiful woman."

"To us and you giving me a damn good fucking."

We'd downed two thirds of a glass before the entrees came out. I watched transfixed as Amy started eating. As she took each mouthful, she leaned forward over the plate. In the absence of Hollywood tape, it let the front piece of her dress – no longer tensioned by the weight of holding up the skirt - fall away from the orbs of her breasts. To say the result was a little distracting was like saying the pope's a little bit catholic.

There they hung, in exposed profile; her nipples jutting - whether in arousal or the cool of the air conditioning barely mattered – from the tip of their perky perfection. As she leant forward and then leant back, every mouthful was a tease: like the shutter of a camera opening and closing in slow motion on an erotic scene.

Mind you, even leaned back she was distracting as those towering nipples pushed out the silky material of her dress.

I quickly looked around to see if I was the only one with the right angle to see the display.

She noticed my attention.

"What are you looking at?"

"You."

"You mean this?"

She teasingly dropped the shoulder nearest me forward, exposing that breast.

"Maybe."

She put her knife down and reached under the table again. This time she found my erection hard and full.

"That's better. I'll be needing that soon."

We finished the entrée and waited, champagne glass now refreshed and back in hand, for the table to be cleared and the main course to arrive.

Amy grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

"Ned, I've never in my life felt anything like the love I feel for you. It overwhelms me sometimes."

"Didn't you start out loving Frank?"

"No. I certainly felt affection towards him and I might have mistaken that for love. I wanted to love him because I wanted him to love me. I wanted to be a better girlfriend because I wanted love from him and for him not to beat me. But it's not until I met you I had even the slightest concept of what real love was."

"Do you feel cheated that you don't have me for yourself?"

"It's funny, but no I don't. I suppose because of the way it all developed, I've never known love in any other context; so it feels normal. I don't often even feel jealous. It's like a family and I like that feeling. I know how much you love me and that's all that matters really. But this whole date thing has been really special."

"Well, we'll have to do it more often. It's been special for me too."

"Does love always make the sex so intense?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I was with Frank I didn't really think about sex very much except as a way to please him. You've long known I had never had an orgasm before I met you, but it was more than a lack of pleasure in it. It was more a lack of desire. Now I seem to have this obsessive need for sex with you. I nearly always feel aroused when you're around. I just love the sense of physical contact with you. Is that a normal reaction?"

"When you first fall in love it's generally accepted there's a heightened sexual response which becomes more subdued over time. Yours might just be at the outer end of the spectrum."

"Well I don't see it fading anytime soon."

The arrival of the main course interrupted the flow of such an intimate conversation. As we ate it, I went back to being distracted by the peep show happening next to me; exaggerated now Amy knew its effect.

By the time the main course was finished, we'd also emptied the bottle of champagne, with just enough in our glasses to nearly see us through to the arrival of dessert. I pondered whether to order another. Amy was becoming increasingly frisky and uninhibited; especially with her hands under the table and virtually asking me to finger her as we sat there. It was all very friendly and amusing in a very lovely sort of way. But sharing another bottle with her risked her crashing and given how noisy she is over sex, there was no way I could actually play with her the way she wanted in the dining room.

I was just conjugating such an important matter when Amy leaned across to me, her hand sliding up my thigh until it was against my cock.

"Do you think I'm oversexed?"

I looked at her, trying not to be distracted by the exposed breast her lean towards me had created.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I have an abnormally high sex drive?"

"You normally want sex about once a day; maybe a little bit more. That's probably at the upper end of the spectrum for women your age, but I don't see it as being anything thing other than normal. You're blessed with a body that gives you an enormously pleasurable response to sex; it's no wonder you like it."

"What about today, when I've want a lot more?"

"They don't call it a dirty weekend for nothing. It's meant to involve more sex, even if this isn't a weekend."

"I thought you were avoiding sex this afternoon."

I couldn't stop my face from breaking into a grin. I should never underestimate the intelligence or perceptiveness of Amy, or Ellen for that matter.

"Avoiding is overstating it. You know, us guys get a bad rap for making it all about sex and it's often an unfair rap. I wanted this date to be something more than one long romp in bed, unless the romp was really all you wanted. If we hung around the room, that tends to happen by default. I just wanted to offer you the opportunity for a more varied experience. I figured if you really just wanted sex you'd drag me back to the room anyway. Anyhow, I'm an old fart. I can't necessarily keep up with all the demands of a woman in her prime like you."

"You do pretty well at that you know Ned."

"If I do, that's just because you girls have us men worked out, what with your fuck me bikinis and everything. I don't think I'd be able to do it if you didn't know how to play me like a finely tuned guitar."

"I think the expression is 'fiddle'. You know Ned, it's not every man my body responds to. I could feel my body's reaction to you well before you even first touched me; indeed from the day I first came aboard the boat. Just your presence lit up something inside me I'd never felt before. Frank never had that effect, even in the earlier days and nor has any other guy."

"Well there's probably a bit of pop science in what I say but maybe that's not surprising. Women are designed to be fussy maters for good reason and your bodies are finely tuned to pick one that it judges to be a good genetic match. Yours might just make its choice known to you more obviously than that of other women. But I suppose I want you to keep in mind there are plenty of other men out there closer to your age that will have the same effect on you. It's just a matter of meeting them."