Misc. Erotica A Hotwife Adventure in the Indian Ocean

[samcuck2]

4: A NEW SKIPPER
“Mr. Sharma?” My stomach dropped through my groin as I looked at the man standing on the deck, who I knew, without introduction, was “Sahil” Khan. Neha had quickly contacted the crew who would come to assist us, and they were going to be there the next morning.
And here he was: Sahil.
He had his hand up over his eyes to shade them. Bulky muscle in the arms and calves on an athletic build, the stance of a seafarer, legs apart slightly, ready to move quickly. He was tall, impeccably dressed in an immaculately white sleeveless   tshirt and white shorts.
His body, beneath the tshirt, it seems like he was a fitness freak.
I dropped onto the dock, and he towered about a head over me. I’m a fairly tall guy – 6’0 – so this very, very handsome gentleman must have been about 6’6.”



I extended my hand. “I’m Piyush,” I said.
My hand was in his grip – a strong grip, one solid shake, and no weird shenanigans – as he pressed his lips together and then said, in a very light Arabian accent, “I’m Sahil Khan. Mr. Wasim sent me to get the boat back to Male.”
“Great,” I said.
In reality, my insides were doing catapults and cartwheels, and I couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything but the man’s enormous hands and his long, muscular limbs.
And what they would look like next to my wife’s skin.
But I kept it together.
“I thought you had -” “One more crew member, yes sir.” He pointed to the marina, where a man was approaching with a heavy container on his shoulder. This man was dark-skinned he was of my height, he was coal black , and he was dressed in the Black shirt and white shorts. “That’s Mr. Junaid Ansari.”



Sahil squinted at the boat. “May I come aboard?” he said. His English was fairly unnatural-sounding, so I suspected he didn’t actually speak it.
“Uh... yeah, yes, of course, let me just...” I hopped onto the boat. “Let me just tell my wife you’re here.”
I was looking at him as I said this, and maybe hoping to see some flicker of interest in his face.
But his countenance remained professional, scowling slightly into the bright sun. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said.
I nodded and dropped down through the hatchway, my heart pounding. “Shweta,” I said, hurrying to the state room, where Shweta was stepping into her bikini. “Baby, the crew is here.”
She pulled the bikini bottom up quickly over her hips, and looked up at the sunroof in alarm.
“They’re not on the boat yet,” I said. “They’re.. uh... just out there.”
Shweta was looking at me strangely. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.
“You okay?” she said. She squinted at me.
I scratched my head. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah... just...”
She made a strange face. “Okay... well...” she looked around and found a cover-up. She pulled it over head. “Let’s go... meet the new crew.”
I followed Shweta through the hatchway. Underneath my skin an excitement tingled, but there was also a strange nervousness, kind of like a first date.
I stood behind her as Shweta shook hands, first with Sahil, then with Junaid. I savored the sight of the man’s big paw enclosing her small hand, of the firm, veined muscle of his forearm, three times as thick as hers, as he gave her a gentle shake.
They were both wearing sunglasses, so it was impossible to see where their eyes were. But I noticed – or I thought I noticed – Shweta’s body shifting a little. She stood up straighter, she thrust out her breasts a little. She gave her hair a toss and she smiled brightly.
“Well… I… I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Can we… stay on the boat? Will I be in your way on the deck over there?”
Sahil paused for a moment, during which time I could only imagine that he was looking her up and down behind his sunglasses. “Oh,” he said. “Mr. Wasim told me you were going to be my first mate.”
And then a lick of his lips, and a smile.
Shweta opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t know how to sail, and then she got the joke and laughed appreciatively instead.
Arousal clawed at my lower abdomen. How appreciatively was she laughing? It seemed to me to be very appreciatively.
“Okay,” Shweta said. “Well… I’ll be over there if anyone needs me.”
And there was a pause, as the two of them looked at each other. A moment that was, deliciously, just a little too long.
My hopes soared.
My wife trotted away and stretched out on the striped lounge chair on the deck.
“You know what you’re doing, man?” Sahil said, turning to me.
Ah, the possibilities embedded in this question.
As much as I liked to pretend, Sahil really was just asking me about the boat. I nodded.
“Great, can you rig the sails? I’ve got to check the other things.”
He disappeared through the hatchway. Junaid was already at work on something aft. I looked at my wife on the deck, her lean body glowing in the sun. I wished I could ask her what she was thinking, or pry open her mind and find out if Sahil Khan had sent the kind of shivers through her body that I hoped he had.
In the beginning, though, it seemed like I was alone in my fantasy. Sahil was all business, and he was a solid sailor. In fact, he likely could have sailed the boat himself, and he certainly didn’t need both me and Junaid to run around trimming sails.
We sailed fastly, a short hop especially with the good wind. Shweta spent the day on the deck, flipping from her back to her stomach, reading a book and snoozing. She did not seem to be paying much attention to Sahil, and he didn’t seem to be paying her much attention either.
Disappointing.
I plopped down on the deck after a while.
Shweta lifted her sunglasses. “Hey there,” she said. “I thought you had to do sailor stuff all day.”
I squinted at the navigation area. “It’s all pretty automated. I’m just backup. I’m starting to think Wasim just wanted us to come along so we could finish our trip,” I said. “Anyway. You need sunscreen.”
I pressed on her leg and a white mark stained her thigh.
“Oh God,” she said. She dove under the lounge chair and retrieved a bottle of sunscreen.
She dumped it into her palm, and then she surprised me by letting out a sexual “Oh!” She fluttered her eyes up to me. “It’s so hot,”she said. “Feel it.”
I dipped my finger into the white cream, and indeed it was hot, which was very arousing for some reason I can’t explain.
Shweta started on her arms, rubbing the lotion over them. But then she made a real show of rubbing the creamy sunscreen into her chest. Her fingers dipped into her bikini, and she rubbed and rubbed the sunscreen into her skin.
Her hands were inside her bikini top, massaging her own tits, for far longer than it would have appeared to have taken her to rub the sunscreen in. She tilted her head back and ran one hand over her chest and up her throat.
She dropped her head and stretched her legs out. “Will you get my legs?” she said. “And my back? I really get so lazy about my legs.”
I stared at her. This was not, in any way, factually true. One, Shweta did not get lazy. Two, to my knowledge, she had never departed the planet of “Totally Insane and Anal Retentive About Sunscreen.”
Lastly, I had never been asked to “get her legs.”
So something was up.
She smeared the big glob of sunscreen into my palm, not waiting for my reply.
I started, happily, at her feet. I smeared the white cream along the length of her calf, and then I began massaging it in at the sole of her foot, then her ankle, then her calf. I moved up, my hands greasy and slippery on her toned thigh.
And all the while, I couldn’t help thinking – and hoping – that Sahil Khan was watching and enjoying the show. Hoping that the show was making him think about getting Shweta’s legs in his own hands.
And hoping that Shweta was thinking the same thing.
When my fingers reached the top of Shweta’s thigh, I slid my fingertips along the hem of the bikini, lightly enough that I gave her shivers. It was a little obscene for a semiprivate setting, but she didn’t move away.
I took it as an invitation to do more.
I didn’t look around to see where Sahil and Junaid were – I could only hope that they were watching.
My heart beat with the fear that any second, Shweta would jump or slap my hand away and tell me to stop. But as my fingers moved along the sweet, smooth inner crease of her thigh, she just parted her legs a little more, slowly.
I hooked my pointer finger under her suit, and tugged on it lightly. “I have to make sure I get under the straps,” I mumbled.
Shweta had to know that I was pulling her bikini away from her skin so much that someone would get a glimpse of her pussy if he was at the right angle. She had to know because I used my other hand to lewdly rub the sunscreen in all over her gash, my fingers moving all over her shaved cunt.
My cock was getting so hard thinking about how she was just lying there, letting me do this in full view of our crew, who were practically strangers.
Dark Strong and beautiful strangers.
I let her bikini snap back to her skin. She had a faint smile on her lips – faint and mysterious.
I traveled over her torso, rubbing the lotion in and under her bikini top the same way. My breath was shaking as I pictured the muscular captain looking out from the shaded navigation area to see my hands cupping my wife’s breasts in broad daylight. Under those white shorts, was his cock getting hard thinking about doing the same.
And how could I let him know it was okay by me?
Shweta’s nipples were hard under my palms, which only turned me on more.
Then she flipped over, and I began the whole delicious thing again. My fingers slipped through the crack of her bottom as I reached from both sides under the back of her bikini. I spent a great deal longer than necessary rubbing and rubbing the lotion into her skin, daydreaming that Sahil was watching.
Imagining that Shweta was hoping and dreaming about the same thing.
I slid my finger along her panties as I headed back down to her legs, and as I passed in the center of her bikini, I found that the center of her bottoms was damp. I brought my fingers to my nose to confirm that it wasn’t sunscreen. The sweet smell of Shweta’s excitement reached my nose long before my fingers got close.
“Hmm,” I said.
Ordinarily this was the kind of thing that would make Shweta roll her eyes at me or sit up suddenly and look around, scandalized.
Instead, she lifted her feet and kicked them playfully. “Hmm,” she said, imitating my tone. She turned her head away and rested it on her arms.
Hmm.
I looked around. It was a painfully bright day on the water: the sky was clear above us and the sun was strong and nearly above us in the sky. The white of Wasim’s spotless yacht glared. So it wasn’t difficult to find Sahil: his muscular body stood out against the mainsail. He was leaning against a shroud, his head turned slightly toward the nothingness in the water.
If he looked in our direction, he probably wouldn’t be able to see my hands, or anything but Shweta’s feet as they kicked back and forth.
Junaid doubtlessly had the wheel, which meant he wouldn’t see if…
I slid my fingers back up along the length of Shweta’s thigh. Under the fabric of her panties.
As my fingertips dipped into the hot moisture between her legs, exploring the softness of her pussy until I found her clit, I had to wonder what it was that had Shweta so hotted up.
I slid my finger along the face of her little button, and her kicking legs slowed, until finally she rested one heel nearly against her round bottom, and the other she extended behind her to the end of the chair.
I watched as her excitement built beneath her skin. Her pussy began to overflow onto my fingers, and her mouth opened with a little gasp. She raised her ass just a tiny bit as she neared her orgasm, but other than that she did not move.
When she came, she let out a little gasp and her whole body shook. The leg perched over her bottom jerked back and forth involuntarily, and I grabbed it and sucked her big toe into my mouth.
This was too much for her and she twisted beneath me, turning her head back and raising up on her arms. “Piyush!” she said.
As all of this was happening, I saw a shadow moving over the white edges of the deck, and then the teak deck area itself. Without looking up, I knew it was Sahil. I let Shweta’s toe go, and I very slowly slid my hand out from under her panties.
When I looked up, he was standing less than a few feet away, and he was looking right at us as though he had been looking all along. His face was calm and serious, and though I couldn’t be sure, I believed he had seen the very last of what I was doing to my wife.
So much the better.
Shweta whipped her head around when she became aware I was looking at something.
When she saw it was Sahil she sat up very quickly, pulling a towel up with her – looking, ultimately, much more guilty of doing something sexual than if she had just lain there.
“Sahil,” she said. “Hi. Are we… are we on track to get to the bay?”
I smiled beneath my calm expression. Was my wife… getting flustered? She was acting almost as though she had gotten caught.
“Everytin’ is on track. I’m coming to see if you want us to catch some fish for lunch.”
“Fish,” Shweta babbled. “Fish, yeah, fish sounds…” she turned her head to look at me, as though whether or not we should have fish was the most important question of the day. Sahil met my eye, and I couldn’t say what he was thinking, exactly. Shweta adjusted her towel again, laying it out on the lounge chair as if that’s what she had meant to do with it all along.
I could still smell her pussy. She had really soaked her bikini with her orgasm, and her scent was on my fingers.
“Fish sounds… good, I don’t know… what do you think?” She continued. She turned back to Sahil. “I.. do you have fishing poles, and stuff?”
Sahil smiled. “I’m going to catch them with my bare hands,” he said, swooping his big hands through the air and making a fist.
Shweta relaxed a little with the joke. “Right,” she said. She laughed at herself, and regained some of her composure. “Okay… well...”
“There’s a grill,” I offered helpfully, pointing at a storage box tucked under the seats on the deck.
“Great,” Sahil said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. His legs flexed as the boat heeled heavily, but he was such a seaman that he could reach casually for a shroud to steady himself. Shweta gripped the chair and I pushed against my feet.
Sahil called to Junaid and said something that sounded like Spanish, heading back to the cockpit.
I swatted Shweta playfully when the boat slowed and the heel subsided. “What was that?” I asked.
It’s important to note that my ordinary Shweta, the Shweta before this trip, would have been more embarrassed about herself (and probably wouldn’t have even acted like that).
But this Shweta spread her towel out and stretched out, face up, on the lounge chair, her sunglasses covering her eyes again. She had a little smile on her lips as she rolled her shoulders to get into a good place.
“I don’t know,” she said mysteriously.
There’s no point in explaining that I was hard as a rock at this point, and I wanted to take Shweta downstairs (or take Shweta right there on the lounge chair), but at the same time it was almost better having to sit there, unsatisfied, while Shweta sunbathed with that little smile on her face.
Sahil returned in about fifteen minutes and asked me if I was up for taking command of the boat while he took command of fishing.
“And what about you, Miss Shweta? You want to do some fishing?”
This was a no-brainer, but before he even finished his sentence, I could see where it was going. Shweta had flipped over onto her stomach again, and she was propped up on her arms now, her back arched so that she was a very statuesque succession of curves: round breasts against the lounge chair, sweeping back, the swell of her bottom. Her bikini, conveniently enough, had ridden up on one side, exposing nearly all of one of her buttocks, and there was no mistaking that Sahil’s eyes swept over it quickly.
Shweta, for the record, hates fishing and all sports, but fishing most of all. Or better stated, she had negative interest in fishing.
She slid her sunglasses from her eyes and let her feet kick playfully behind her as she “contemplated” the question.
“Yeah,” she said, and I felt a stab of pleasurable jealousy through my heart. “Sure, why not?”
Then she sat up, flipped her feet around in my direction, gave me a wink, and pulled her cover-up over her head.
Sahil gave me a smile. “Junaid is waiting for you to take over the boat,” he said.
And then he smiled broadly at my wife and they headed back to the aft deck, where he had some fishing poles set up.
I followed them to mid-deck, where the navigation area was. Junaid nodded at me, and handed me the wheel. He said something that I could not discern in Arabian but which I assumed was the standard line, which hardly mattered in a fully automated boat, and I nodded back.
Wasim’s boat was so automated – the sails could be operated from the navigation area – that really one person could, conceivably, pilot the ship himself, although it was inadvisable, with the various problems that could and almost always did arise with a sailboat. It wasn’t really my kind of sailing, any more than driving a huge automatic vehicle was my kind of driving, but it certainly was amazing.
My mind, though, was not on sailing for long. Before long, my neck began to itch just thinking of what was undoubtedly going on behind me, with my wife and Sahil.
I checked all the instruments and made sure we were well clear of any other boats. There were a few small boats portside, but they were motorized yachts and headed in the other direction as far as I could tell. We were a good distance from the shore of a small island.
I gave a glance behind me at the cockpit.
They had gotten right into it, and the sight was better than I expected: Shweta was holding a pole in one of the seats, between her legs, in a position that suggested exactly what I wanted it to suggest. She had both hands around it, and Sahil was close to her, one hand on her back, one hand on the pole with hers.
I savored the sight and looked back out the windscreen of the control room. I checked everything again: boats, heading, speed, depth of water. It wouldn’t do to wreck Wasim’s sailboat because I was watching a Arabian man go fishing with my wife.
When I turned back again, the scene had changed slightly.
To my delight, Sahil still had his hand on Shweta’s back. The other hand on the pole, and his mouth very close to her jawline as he explained something to her.
All in the name of sport.
Shweta was speaking now; I saw her jawline move and the profile of her face as she smiled.
They were remarkably close to each other, remarkably comfortable.
It would have been almost nothing for Sahil to take his hand and slide it up the pole between Shweta's legs. He could pretend his hand slipped, and slide it right up against the black triangle of bikini that covered her bare pussy.
He leaned closer to her. His muscled torso was against Shweta’s arm and part of her back now. She could surely feel the shape of his body against her, through his starched white tshirt.
I had to tear my eyes away to look back at what I was doing.
As I had been sitting there mesmerized by my wife and Sahil, a ship had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, starboard side. Another sailboat, coming closer.
I quickly made an announcement that we were tacking and started to set up the boat for a tack – no small feat with all the sails and the unfamiliar controls.
Junaid appeared at the starboard door. “Help?” he said. “And… Mr. Khan he say, you slow please.” He made the sign of a fishing rod being reeled.
“Uh...” I said. I beckoned Junaid into the control room to help me out.
I pretended to pay attention, while Junaid jabbered in Arabian about the controls, but I stood at an angle so that I could see out the back window of the room to what Sahil was doing with my wife.
Now they had a big fish, and the boat was slowing so they could reel it in. Sahil was standing behind Shweta, the full front of his body pressed against her backside, the whole length of my wife’s curves against him. His strong arms encircled her, and he was holding the pole with her, pulling it back, letting it out, so she could reel in whatever they had caught.
I saw the flapping fins of the fish, and then Sahil jerked it from the water. Shweta jumped, and he had to steady her as the big fish flopped onto the deck and she squealed and laughed and tried to get away from it.
In an epic display of masculinity, Sahil slid his arm around my wife, consoled her, and then pounced on the fish to hold it down as it flapped its huge body to its death out of water.
I watched, fascinated. My wife was definitely flirting with Sahil….



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The fish they had caught was a Wahoo, which didn’t mean a ton to me as I wasn’t much of a fisherman.
“It’s very good to eat,” Sahil assured us. “I can grill it up, and it will make a delicious meal.”
Shweta’s face was still flushed with excitement. “Oh, thank you, Sahil. I don’t.. have any idea how to.. you know, cook it.”
Within seconds Sahil had a knife out and he was slicing the fish up and tossing the guts into the water.
“Are we allowed to eat the fish here?” I said, and instantly regretted sounding like such a rule-abiding dork.
Sahil looked up at me, his big pocketknife embedded in the fish’s guts. He smiled. “This is the Maldives, Mr. Sharma. You can do whatever you want.” These final words weren’t necessarily sinister, but they were pregnant with possibility, and he looked over at Shweta with a smile after he said them. He grinned at the fish and continued to cut. “Go, you two, I’ll grill this up and bring it to you on the deck.”
“Thanks, Sahil,” Shweta gushed. She turned toward the deck, and then halted abruptly and, in a hum of nervous, adolescent-like activity, babbled: “Thanks again, that was, it is...that was so much fun!”
I started back toward the deck and Shweta followed me. When we were safely in the shadow of the control room I turned back to her. “So… that was some pretty athletic fishing,” I said.
“It was fun,” Shweta said, feigning innocence.
“Sahil is pretty strong,” I pressed.
Shweta slid onto a couch and stretched out. “He is,” she said, seductively.
She let this entrance me for a moment, but then she broke up into laughter. “Stop it,” she said. “That fish was really… strong.”
“I didn’t realize you were so into fishing.”
Shweta smiled and put a hand to her cheek. “I’m not into fishing,” she said coyly, and my cock twitched to life. Shweta smiled and put a scarf over her face as she relaxed in the sun, a few glistening drops of sweat between her breasts.
Sahil appeared with the grilled fish after about half an hour, making short work of gutting it and getting it grilled.
“Wait,” Shweta said, when he dropped off a steaming plate of the fish and Junaid deposited two plates and silverware on the table for us. “You’re not having some with us?” she said.
Sahil hooked his finger aft. “I thought we would eat in the cockpit,” he said. He smiled.
“Oh, no… you should eat with us,” Shweta said. “Yeah, yeah, have lunch with us, Sahil.”
Sahil looked unsure.
“I insist,” she said. She looked quickly to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “Please. Come and eat with us.”
“Okay,” Sahil said, still a little uncertain. “I’ll go and get some plates and our fish.”
Shweta and I exchanged looks once he left.
This was fun, this shared complicity with Shweta, but I couldn’t help feeling a little agonized by not knowing how seriously she was taking it. We’d had that conversation, after all, and so I knew Shweta was being game and flirting with Sahil to give me a little thrill.
But for some reason, this ached even more than if Shweta had outright rejected the idea. It was like I was going to have just a taste of what I wanted, and then have to endure the pain of never getting it.
Or was I? I couldn’t tell. Shweta was really taking things to a new level.
She looked over at me and arranged her hair, and then reached into her Bikini to arrange her breasts perfectly within the fabric. “How do I look?” she mouthed.
Sahil was already back, with the silent Junaid in tow. Shweta smiled at them – Sahil first, and scooted over on the couch and patted the seat. “Here, Sahil, you can sit by me.”
Sahil looked over at me for my reaction. The couch Shweta was on was a small two-seater, and this invite was definitely approaching the line of inappropriate.
I smiled at him and extended my hand in that direction. “Have a seat, man.”
He shrugged and did as we asked, and when he sat down Shweta made no effort to make more room for him. His heavy thigh was against her leg, and while his shorts came to mid-thigh, there was a large patch of his skin against hers. His muscled bicep was touching her arm.
It would have been so easy for him to put his hand on her knee. I imagined it there, covering her white thigh, slowly creeping up the length of her leg.
I leaned forward on my elbows to hide the mild erection I was getting.
“So, Sahil,” I said. “Do you do this kind of thing all the time?”
Fairly lame, but Sahil seemed to welcome the question. “You know, I make a very good living doing this? Mr. Wasim can sail his own boat but you’d be surprised how many guys come down here and have a boat they can’t sail, or they can’t sail in the bad weather. Sometimes I bring a boat from Europe, that kind of thing.”
“From Europe?” Shweta said, a little too breathlessly to be realistic. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
Sahil took this moment to break into Arabian, which he seemed to be very, very fluent in, to say something to Junaid, who laughed and made what sounded like a wry joke before digging into his fish. He was eating a bit like an animal, and now that he was seated next to me I was impressed by the full size of the man.
“Junaid says he only sailed hurricanes when he became a sailor,” Sahil said. “Crossing the ocean is nothing for him.”
“Still...” Shweta said. “Do you go to Europe while you’re there?”
“Oh yes,” Sahil said.
“I like the beaches,” he added with a smile.
“You have such an interesting life,” Shweta mused, either not picking up on or choosing to ignore the reference to topless beaches.
“How’d you become a sailor?” Shweta took a delicate nibble of her fish. “Oh wow,” she said, “this is so delicious.”
Sahil smiled at her. “Same way I became such a good cook.”
Shweta raised her eyes to get him to continue while she took another bite of fish, and I’m sure you may find it hard to believe that she was eating some grilled fish sexually, but that’s what she was doing.
Her white teeth were nibbling, bared, at the flesh of the fish like she wanted to tease it.
“I am a natural,” Sahil said, and he lowered his eyes just a little, along with his voice. Shweta’s chest rose and fell with her attempts to hide her excitement.
There was a very heavy moment between the two of them before he broke it up with a little laugh, and started in on his fish.
The two of them were done in almost no time, and Sahil clapped his hands together. “Well, we have to get sailing again if we want to get to port.”
I stood up.
“It’s all right, Mr. Sharma, you relax with your wife.”
There was a very short pause, while his eyes went back and forth from me to Shweta.
“Maybe take a nap,” he said, smiling.
But there was no doubt in my mind what he was insinuating.