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It was only three minutes later that Amy came back out of the bathroom to find me still lying flat on my back on the bed, a hand under my head watching her.

In the moments it took her to cross the room, I was overcome with pride in and love for her. Amy had blossomed from the Zeta female who had joined the boat – beaten down by ten years of domination and abuse by Frank – into the Alpha female she always deserved to be. Her posture had always been upright by birth, but even under the shapeless clothes she had joined the boat in, you could detect the round shoulders and pulled in head of someone whose life consisted of staying out of the way of trouble. Now she walked tall and confident; her nakedness fully displaying her swept back shoulders and the way her head stood tall and upright. She showed the confident gait of a woman who knew her worth and strength as it conveyed her across the room.

It was her own internal strength that delivered the change, but I felt for myself at least the role of a catalyst in that. What she had needed was true love and support; it was what she sought from me and what I had given her, even if it was in the context of the polygamous relationships that had developed on the boat.

In a way, and for all its emotional upheaval, Issie’s departure had been good for Amy. She had always found comfort in knowing that I was obsessed by her physical beauty above all the others; however uncomfortable I had been in revealing that too her and reaffirming it to her so often. But now she correctly sensed that she had inherited much of the emotional attachment that Issie had previously attracted. Yes, Ellen, with her incredible navigational and yachting skills, had somewhat taken over the running of the boat and I was in absolute awe of her, but Amy had taken over much of that part of my heart that Issie had previously dominated.

She had been on the yacht much longer than the others and we had shared so much of her own personal development during that time that the bond between us was almost unavoidable. She knew it and while I was never scared of admitting my love for her, we had never needed to explicitly discuss that inherited affection.

She came to a stop at the end of the bed, her flawlessly Mediterranean skinned body in all its female, sexualised, fecund, perfection standing tall over my feet.

“I thought you’d be up by now.”

“Give me a break. We only finished having sex five minutes ago. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

She knelt on the bed straddling me; lowering herself down on top of me then wiggling about to align my flaccid manhood over my pubis and snuggle it down between the lips of her crease. Then she elevated her head on her elbows, looking down at me; teasing me with the breasts that left hanging just under my field if vision.

“I was talking about you getting up for our swim.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t talking about that too?”

“Yea, sure… Do we really have to get dressed to jump off the deck? Are you sure you won’t skinny dip?”

“I don’t want other resort guests being put off their afternoon margaritas by bare arse trauma syndrome.”

“So you’re suggesting my bare arse is going to traumatise people.”

“No. There’s not a man in the resort wouldn’t give his eye teeth to get a good look at your extraordinary cute bare arse. The only trauma he’s likely to suffer is the hiding he’ll get from his wife or girlfriend for perving at you. But no one wants to see my pale, pasty white, slightly hairy, old man arse.”

“You underestimate yourself. But if you insist, we’ll wear swimwear then.”

For a moment Amy hesitated on top of me. Did she want something other than a swim?

I didn’t really intend this ‘date’ to just be one long orgy of sexual activity. It was a way of getting to deepen my relationship with each of the girls; to just spend time talking to them and indulging their relationship wishes. Doing things like holding hands as we walked, talking intimately and generally doing things that you can’t do while living on a yacht full of polygamous sex. But if sex was what they wanted in satisfaction of that, nor did I want to deny them, at least within my mature age abilities.

Her nipples, projecting and hardened by the cool blast of the air-conditioning, were clearly visible to me and within easy reach. Because they were so sensitive, I knew it would only take five minutes of playing with them to have her writhing in the course of an orgasm. I didn’t need a hard cock for that; but was that what she wanted?

I waited mutely, letting her take the lead.

“OK then, let’s do it.”

Amy got off me, found her bikini and started tying it on; releasing me to get up too. Before I had even found my swimmers, she’d playfully run out the door and done a bomb off the deck; treading water in the tepid lagoon until I joined her.

Girls can have a hard time of getting it right in the eyes of guys. If they’re not standoffish then they run a very fine line between being needy and clingy on the one hand and tactile and touchy ataköy anal yapan escort on the other. The former is supposedly bad, the latter good; at least as far as guys see it.

Amy is nothing if not tactile. She likes physical contact and is not afraid to make it blatantly sexual. After we stretched our muscles with a few laps of the water outside our bungalow, I rolled over onto my back and did a lazy half sunken float, half tread water stationary survey of the lagoon from the water level. I suspected it was just as well we got dressed for swimming. The neighbours were a bit close for us to have been skinny dipping and getting out would have been almost impossible without a lot of exposure.

Amy swam over to me, wrapped her thighs around mine and her arms over my shoulders leaving us locked together while treading water, our legs and, when not wrapped around each other, our arms like eight flagellum flapping about propelling us to the surface. The effect of her bringing her crotch tightly against my lower stomach, her breasts into my chests and her tongue into the depths of my mouth was predictable. Fairly quickly my Lycra sheathed erection was pushing firmly into the gusset of her bikini; moving around a lot with the action of treading water, something that only hardened the erection even further.

If I had any doubts that Amy was using it to arouse herself too they were dispelled as she repeatedly brushed her chest across mine as she writhed in my arms; the occasional grope of her breast with my hand confirming she had raised her sensitive nipples to hardened peaks pushing out the thin material of her bikini top.

As her breathing became heavier, her crotch started to squirm about more determinedly as if looking for specific contact and stimulation instead of the general provocation of such intimate contact. Increasingly she was moaning gently into my mouth as we kissed.

It left me wondering if her desire to go skinny dipping was motivated by more than a moment of naughtiness. Still, if it was water sex she wanted, we’ve done it before by pulling aside inconvenient placed swimwear and I still had doubts about whether this was an appropriate place for it.

After five minutes of passionate embrace, she whispered into my ear…

“Let’s go upstairs.”

She broke off contact and swam towards the steel ladder up to our bungalow’s platform, leaving me to follow in her wake. As I climbed the ladder I desperately tried to position my arms to hide my erection from any watching guests, its prominent hardness not being helped from the fact my face was right in Amy’s butt as we climbed the ladder.

As I looked up at it, I could see the gossamer thin gusset of her tightly drawn up bikini pants had been pushed deeply into the line of her crease by my erection; its swollen labia forming two ridges between which ran a wide aroused valley of sexual delight.

As she got the top, Amy crossed the platform and turned on the external freshwater shower provided for guests to wash off the salt after a swim. There she waited under it until I joined her; leaving me no choice but to stand in close face to face contact with her if I wasn’t going to display the erection to the world. She knew it too; making sure we were in full body contact and my erection wasn’t going away any time soon.

Her hands brushed the fresh water down my body, washing off the salt. First my back, then down my chest between our bodies until her slender fingers wrapped themselves around my sheathed erection moving up and down as if that tower of my raging manhood needed a special wash. She turned her head from side to side under the cascade of water, letting it run through her hair and down her face while again brushing her breasts across my chest. As the water surged on down between our bodies, it flooded across those glorious orbs of female perfection and down to where she held my erection in her grasp.

Now I could see the affects her movements were having on her nipples. Volcanic cones of aroused hardness stretched out the triangles of her bikini top, their slightly darker pigment showing through the unlined, stressed, translucent, wet material. I stroked all over her body, washing it with the refreshing tumbling flow of water until my hand too ended up between her legs, gently moving back and forwards along the line of her crease.

Turning off the tap without turning away from me, she sloughed the excess water from my back, encouraging me to do the same to her. Then she reached for both our towels on a nearby hook and gave one to me.

Passing the towel she retained behind my back, one corner in each hand, she started drying my back with a side to side action. As I reciprocated, our bodies moved against each other, rocking my extended shaft against her lower stomach like an inverted grandfather clock pendulum and stimulating it to the point of bursting.

By now her carnal intentions were more than clear. I’d long since surrendered any pretensions this was just a bit of an idle ataköy bdsm escort tease and recognised it was in fact an extended foreplay. Once my back was dry, she did a cursory drying of my side by passing the towel up and down the length of each before bunching it to dry so much of my upper chest as wasn’t joined to hers.

Finally she took half a step back so, for the first time, separating our lower torsos, even if the outward push of my erection in my swimmers left the tip resting against her stomach. She teasingly ran the towel down the length of my body, drying it with a gentle side to side movement until the towel brushed against the now pre-cum weeping tip of my manhood. All pretence of subtly lost, Amy wrapped a corner of the towel around my still sheathed erection and her hand around that, to dry up and down its length; occasionally extending the towel between my legs to dry the crotch and material covering my ball sack.

I wasn’t the only one being touched up in the process of being dried.

I’d already had a fun time drying her bikini top; teasing those perpertually jutting peaks of her nipples in the process and was matching her rub for rub as I dried the gusset of her bikini pants.

“I think we’d better go inside.”

Amy grabbed my erection and dragged me through the door. We didn’t make it to the bed. Nowhere close. As soon as we were through the door, she pushed me against the wall, undid the drawstring on my pants and pulled my erection out of it, bending it down and using the tip of it to drag the waist band of her bikini pants low enough to slip my hardened manhood into her crease.

As she rubbed the tip back and forward on her clit, I was being stimulated not just by that, but by the rubbing of the waistbands of both our pants where they crossed the shaft. In the hot passion of the moment, it was too much.

The prolonged foreplay had taken its toll on my endurance. From towards the end of when Amy was playing the tip of my cock against her clit as we trod water, little tendrils of sensitivity had been shooting along its length. The pendulum action of its full length brushing across her lower stomach as we played under the shower had been particularly pleasurable. Far from protecting me from it, the tight sheathing of my stretched swimwear had compounded the effect; the micro movement of the material spreading the location of every sensitive touch across a wider area while perhaps imitating the warm embrace of a vagina, especially as hot water flooded across it.

Now those tendrils of pleasure were escaping the narrow confines of the point of contact and infecting all the way up to my brain. If I didn’t stop the extra stimulation of those waist bands, I was in for an early discharge.

Frantically I pulled her pants down; pushing it down her thighs as far as I could until gravity could take effect and drop it to the floor. Then I pulled my own ones down; jiggling my thighs until they slipped down my legs and I could step out of them. That dealt with I could focus more on her. Two quick pulls of the bows and her bikini top came away, exposing the towering peaks of her nipples. One went in my mouth, the other between my fingers as Amy started moaning in response to the extra stimulation.

We really needed to close the bungalow’s doors. As the curtains blew intermittently up with the wind, they exposed us to the outside and the sound of Amy’s rising excitement would soon be released unfiltered into the world around us. But it was too late for that. We were both preoccupied.

My hips were moving back and forwards as I slipped my erection through Amy’s crease; its length held firmly against her clit by the hand she had wrapped around it. The dampness from our swim was soon displaced by Amy’s own juices, letting it move effortless across her swollen bud. With each push in I jerked my hips upward; not just putting more pressure on her bud, but imitating a massive penetrative thrust in a way I knew drove her crazy with this sort of sex.

Amy’s a renowned screamer during sex; but how much so depends on what she’s up to. If I’m thrusting against her g spot you can hear her across a nautical mile of water. At the other end of the spectrum, if I’m just fingering her – or in this case doing it with my cock – she’s just loud. But in the confines of a resort, even one with individual overwater bungalows, loud is still too loud when the doors are open. Half the resort was going to know a 30 year old woman was being banged by a man twice her age.

As she got more excited, she really started up…

“Ohhh…oooooohh…ahhhhhh…oohh…ohh…oohhh”

I lightly put my hand over her mouth while mouthing a silent… “Sshhh.”

But as she let out another ooohhh, all that did was send us both into a torrent of laughter. Somehow the laughter broke the dam and a moment later the resort was disturbed by the sound of Amy’s orgasm.

“Oh my god… oh shit…aaahhhhhhh.”

It was too late to do anything about it. I’ve found I can prolong Amy’s orgasms ataköy elit escort when we’re having this sort of sex by keeping up the sliding and pressuring of her clit until it’s obvious she wants me to stop. But she quickly pulled my shaft down towards the opening of her sex, standing on her toes to let me penetrate her. As I easily slipped into her I could feel her contractions pushing against my hardness.

The fires of my own passions had long been ignited. I eagerly bent my knees to angle myself to achieve full penetration. Grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around my hips, I lifted her feet off the ground and pulled her tightly against me, turning quickly around and pushing her back against the wall. I didn’t have long. The earlier sensitivity was taking its toll. I wanted to make the best use of what was left to me.

Rocking my hips back and forwards, I went from full penetration to half and back to full again in rapid succession; loving the feeling of the tight embrace of her warm slippery sex around my shaft as it moved easily within her. Soon those tendrils of pleasure came back, running up and down my shaft with every thrust.

The wall of a timber bangalow built on a light pile framework over the water is probably not the place to have spirited sex against the wall. The whole building was rocking with every passionate thrust; building its own momentum. If the noise hadn’t attracted attention, the slight of one of the buildings rapidly vibrating at the pace of a male’s pounding of a woman certainly would.

I was carrying Amy’s whole weight and realised I too was grunting, for all my effort to suppress it. I wasn’t really trying to stimulate Amy any more, but once she’s gone once, her orgasms seem to develop a mind of their own. Suddenly the sound of her second one drowned out my grunting…

“OOOOhhhh…oh Ned…oh yes…ooooooooohhh.”

That did it for me. Whether it was her contractions or just a tightening of her sex, a little more pressure from her sent me over the top and I was suddenly blowing my load into her with a series of energetic grunting thrusts.

As I finished and eased her feet back onto the ground, it was as if we’d suddenly become aware of the spectacle we’d made of ourselves as we both burst into peals of laughter that eventually had us actually rolling on the ground; our naked bodies groping for each other as if that would somehow bring our madness to an end. Instead each time we looked at each other we just burst out again.

I realised afterwards it had been decades since I’d done that, reminding me how lucky I was to be able to share this part of my life with those younger than me. It was like their youth was contagious.

Eventually we calmed down and I lay on my back on the floor with Amy’s head on my chest as I stroked her hair. When I’d first thought about bringing the girls here, there had been an additional aspect to my plan that I figured it was time to tell her about.

“When you’re ready, I’d like to take you up to the resort shop to buy one of those dresses you were all admiring when we came her with Liddy.”

Amy rolled over, put her elbows on my chest and looked at me.

“You don’t have to do that Ned.”

“I know. But I’d like to. I saw how much you liked them and I’d like you to have one. You can wear it to dinner tonight if you’d like.”

“Don’t you like my new dress?”

“I love it. It looks stunning on you. But I came up with this idea before you bought it and Ellen didn’t buy one. So I still want to be able to buy you both one.”

“But aren’t they too dear?”

“Not really. They’re just the price of a nice dress. Not a high fashion one. I’ve never bought you guys a present and I think it’s time I did. I’d enjoy being able to.”

As she came to accept the idea, Amy beamed at me.

“Wow. Can we go now?”

“Yep. That’s what I was going to suggest.”

Amy stood up and offered me a hand to help me up off my back. She quickly donned a dry bikini and covered the bottom part with a small pair of hotpants. Leaving me to put on shorts and a polo shirt. As we ambled up to the main building of the resort, Amy slipped her hand into mine and snuggled in close to me. Not for the first time I wondered how it looked to others to see one so young in a loving embrace with someone my age.

I admired and loved her for being willing to be open about our feelings and not hide behind some facade of being my daughter or some other more innocent excuse.

When we got to the shop Amy tried on about 8 dresses; most of which she’d seen and admired last time we were here. She insisted I comment on each one as she tried it on and presented it to me; not even being willing to let me sit and judge them but insisting I stand and review them from normal eye height.

Four of them were just not right. It wasn’t that they weren’t sexy enough or anything like that. They just didn’t hang nicely on her. And Amy agreed. One was borderline, but Amy didn’t like it anyway. Of the remaining three, I definitely had a favourite, but didn’t want to impose it on her. They all looked nice and my motives for preferring it may have been somewhat impure. No, they were definitely impure. I danced around a lot, trying to not be judgmental as to the final choice and wanting her to choose the one she liked and wanted to wear; eventually at her insistence, merely hinting at my favourite.

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