Alan Bryant emerged from the cabin of his boat to see Joseph, the local lad who he employed part -time, turning his charm on another teenage tourist. Alan smiled to himself, while restraining a twinge of envy; Joseph was thirty-five years his junior, but that wasn’t the only reason why the kid was so good at getting into the skimpy bikinis of young female holiday-makers.
Joseph had an athletic physique, lean but muscular, but more importantly, he had an easy smile and a quiet, seemingly diffident charm that made every casual chat with a woman or a girl into a seduction that the target didn’t even recognize as such.
So far as Alan could tell, Joseph also delivered the pleasure that his smile promised, too. At least, the girls generally came back for more. He didn’t even have to promise much beyond simple fun; many of the girls knew that Joseph was working his way along the beach, often keeping multiple affairs on the go simultaneously, but they didn’t complain. And when their holidays ended, they went home with many longing smiles but few tears. Joseph even had a knack for making them think that these short flings were their own ideas.
Joseph’s latest target looked to be in her late teens, wearing a slightly less skimpy bikini than some and a gauzy sarong. She had dark hair falling below her shoulders, and her eyes were fixed on Joseph’s face as she talked. Alan idly wondered what her name was…
Well, that almost answered the question. One of those names had to belong to the dark-haired girl; the other had to fit the second girl who Alan had barely noticed, sitting on a nearby bollard with the air of patience of a plainer sister who had learned to live with this situation. Joseph was the first to look around, though, redirecting his smile – only to have it bounce right off a sour middle-aged maternal scowl.
Alan recognised this situation, too. Impressively, when Joseph’s conquests came with parents attached, around half of those parents tolerated, even liked him; some were sensible enough to recognise that holiday romances were inevitable, to see that Joseph was polite and thoughtful, and to trust their daughters to show just enough sense, while some mothers simply fell for his sexual charm. In fact, some mothers had taken him to their own beds.
This one, on the other hand, was clearly in the other fifty percent – the half of parents who guessed correctly what he was up to, and responded with hostility. If she felt a twinge of desire, it doubtless just made her bitterly jealous of her daughter. She was a little too heavily dressed for the Caribbean sunshine, with a floppy-brimmed hat which kept the sun off her face but which contrived to make her look ridiculous, and she was bearing down on the three youngsters at a fast walk.
Then Alan saw who was trailing behind her, and winced for himself; he suddenly realised that lunch might be even more boring than he’d feared. He clambered onto the jetty and strolled over to where the woman was now quietly berating the girl about nothing in particular, while Joseph retired from the scene without a word. Sometimes, in these situations, he continued the chase; sometimes he didn’t bother. There were always plenty more fish in the sea.
Alan caught the name “Caroline” several times – so that was the long-haired girl’s name, so her sister, with the practical page-boy bob and the slightly plumper figure must be Margaret – and then the girls’ father, the woman’s husband, finally arrived on the scene.
“Hello Alan. Nice to see you.”
“Hello, George. Good flight?”
Alan Bryant had known George Peterson as a business contact for twenty years, and somewhere along the line, they’d started exchanging Christmas cards as a courtesy. Then Alan had retired, bought his dreamed-of boat, and moved to the island – but twenty years of habit died hard, although he’d never considered George a close friend, and the exchange of cards had continued, now by air mail. Then, George had sent a letter announcing that he “and the family” had booked a holiday on the same island, and Alan, on reflex, had suggested lunch.
“Who was that boy?”
Alan turned to the woman. “You’ll be Irene? Please to meet you; George has told me all about you. That was Joseph. He’s a nice lad…”
“Local, I take it. He looked like trouble to me. He was… he smirked.”
Alan recognised this situation, too. Few parents, even of an older generation, would be so crass as to mention Joseph’s skin colour outright, but the families who were wealthy enough to book into the grander tourist hotels were generally also conservative by nature, and the thought of their daughters becoming friendly with Joseph reduced the worst of them to seething panic. Alan couldn’t think of any way to handle this that wouldn’t lead to him becoming angry, so he changed the subject.
“Lunch, then? There’s a very good restaurant just down here.”
The meal wasn’t quite as boring as Alan expected, as it turned out, but that was mostly thanks to the girls. While Irene remained largely wordless and George rambled about old colleagues who Alan had been happy to escape, their daughters at least seemed bright and interested in the world around them; both tried local seafood dishes at Alan’s recommendation, while their parents stuck to chicken and chips and Irene dropped dark hints about food poisoning. Margaret – who winced twice when her father addressed her as “Maggie” – had finished school the year before and had been working at short-term jobs to make some money before starting at university, Alan learned, while Caroline had just finished her final year at school and was prevaricating about what to do next. Both, in fact, were fully old enough to holiday alone, but as with many others in the hotels, the chance to have parents pay for such a trip was enough to make them put up with having those parents along.
Over coffee, Alan remembered his politeness again, and decided that the girls at least deserved a good holiday, and suggested that they spend the afternoon on his boat, sailing around the island.
“Well, I’m not sure…” murmured George.
“We both get seasick” snapped his wife. “That’s why we’re not taking a cruise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps the girls feel up to a little sailing?” See how you feel about that, Alan thought; being older than George, he felt safely categorised as a father figure, so there’d be few excuses to veto the suggestion.
As it turned out, the girls liked the idea a lot – Alan had no doubt that they were anxious to get away from their parents for a few hours – and despite some further grumbles from their mother, they accepted the offer. Then, as George was, to his credit in Alan’s eyes, insisting on paying the bill, a couple of thoughts struck Alan. Some people would have called the second malicious; he, on the other hand, thought that it was kindly.
“I’ll just nip back to the boat,” he said, “make sure it’s all fuelled up. You can catch me up.”
He reached his vessel with a few minutes in hand, and ducked into the engine compartment for a moment. Then he emerged smiling calmly as the Peterson family arrived. “All good to go” he announced. The girls climbed aboard amidst final stern commands to take care from their parents, and Alan cast off, trying not to look hasty.
He steered away from the jetty, and then, as the boat moved beyond earshot and almost out of sight of George and Irene Peterson, he turned to Caroline. “You might want to look back there” he said, indicating the engine compartment. With a puzzled look, Caroline obeyed, then issued a squeal of sheer glee as she came face to face with Joseph, who had remained quietly hidden where he’d been working, at Alan’s suggestion. Caroline instantly flung her arms around Joseph, and Alan felt another twinge of envy at the sheer speed of Joseph’s effect on the opposite sex. He continued to steer for a moment, then looked back to see the pair still embracing – and Margaret Peterson looking bemused.
“You two might want to move to the cabin” Alan said, with the jetty now safely out of sight, and Caroline and Joseph quick obeyed. Alan was slightly startled to see Caroline leave her sarong draped over one of the outside seats, and as Joseph began to push the cabin door shut, he glimpsed her reaching up to unfasten her bikini top.
“She’s impossible.” Alan glanced round to see Margaret now sitting beside him.
“I must admit – I was just thinking – Joseph is a charming boy, but he’s not normally that fast…” Alan trailed off as it occurred to him that this might be more than Margaret wanted to hear. She smiled, though, albeit a little darkly.
“Let me guess – he’s the local Casanova?” she said. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not surprised. Caroline can always find them. And he may have met his match this time.”
“Oh.” Alan wasn’t sure what to say. “Look, I hope that you don’t think that I’m some kind of dirty old man.” Though maybe I am, a bit, he admitted to himself. “I just thought that both of you two probably deserved a break from your parents, and Joseph is generally, well, good company.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve just saved Caroline from an hour or two of scheming and waiting, and yes, it’s a nice day for a sail. I would like to see…”
At that moment, the cabin door, which hadn’t been properly latched, burst open, and the naked Joseph staggered a pace or two out of it backwards. Caroline, on hands and knees, still wearing her bikini bottom, crawled after him, her gaze fixed on his rigid cock.
“Sorry!” Joseph yelped. Caroline seemed too distracted to even notice the situation, but she rose to her feet and grabbed Joseph. Her breasts, Alan noticed, were relatively small but pertly superb.
“No problem” Alan said, “I must get that latch fixed. Er, Joseph knows where the things are in there…”
The cabin door slammed more firmly behind the couple, Caroline leaving he bikini bottom behind her on the deck.
“Things?” Margaret asked.
“Er… condoms” Alan admitted. He glanced round, expecting to see Margaret looking shocked or long-suffering, but instead saw her break up in a fit of giggles.
“Sorry” she said after a moment, and suddenly she was all brisk practicality again, “but it’s been like this for months now. Some time, I suppose her hormones will settle down. Anyway, you were going to show us the island.”
Alan steered on, but sensible conversation proved difficult. He’d not had reason to test the point this much before, but the cabin was proving inadequately soundproofed, at least against the torrent of grunts and cries that were now emerging from it. After a moment, Margaret noticed that a narrow walkway led forward and around the cabin, which had portholes, and with a gesture to Alan for quiet, she slipped forward. After a few moments, as she continued peering into the cabin, Alan checked that the boat was safely set on a fixed course, and moved to join her.
He was just in time to see Caroline Peterson lowering herself onto Joseph’s upright and now neatly-wrapped cock as he lay back on one of the cabin couches. Caroline gasped in delight, and Joseph reached up, taking one of those pert breasts in each hand, tracing his thumbs around her nipples as she began to move. Then Joseph sat up, applying his tongue to Caroline’s massively erect left nipple…
“You are a dirty old man!”
Margaret sounded disapproving now, and Alan, aware of the growing tension in his groin, felt embarrassed. He returned to the wheel without comment as the cries and grunts from the cabin continued.
“Look,” he said, “either we listen to them for the next…”
“…couple of hours…” Margaret muttered.
“Or we give them a bit more privacy. There’s a landing-stage on that small island up ahead with a quiet beach – it’s not inhabited, the stage is just a place for a few fishermen to stop off at times. So let’s just moor there a while, take a walk on the beach. It’s pleasant enough.”
Margaret agreed with a shrug, and leant a useful hand with the process of mooring. She and Alan made a careful way along the rickety stage, and looked around the island. There was no one about, but Alan realised that the only snag with his suggestion was that there was nowhere much to walk. Still, there was white sand and a dazzling blue sea, and after a few minutes, the pair sat side by side.
“Sorry if I seem like a dirty old man” Alan said after a few wordless minutes.
“S’Okay. I guess I did look first.”
“I’d guess that you have to put some effort into stopping your parents finding out about your sister. That’s rather noble of you.”
“I’ve had the practice… Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Alan glanced where Margaret was looking, to see that her sister and Joseph had emerged from the cabin. But they were still naked, and it was clear that they simply wanted to fuck in the open air. Caroline bent forward, supporting herself on the side of the boat, while Joseph entered her from behind; then she threw her head back, and Alan heard a distant yes-yes-yes-yes. Alan assumed that the pair were aware that they were being watched, but just didn’t care.
Margaret shifted so that her back was to a convenient tree, and she was facing away from the sight. Alan shifted nearer to her, facing the same way.
“You were saying – you must have had a lot of practice keeping her secrets.”
“Hers and mine.” Alan blinked and swallowed, and Margaret scowled at him. “Oh, look, really. Just because I’m not Caroline, doesn’t mean I haven’t had a few boyfriends.”
No longer distracted by the fucking couple or by dealings with her parents or the boat, Alan realised that he was now looking at Margaret properly for the first time. She was, he decided, entirely pleasant on the eyes – if her figure was a little fuller than Caroline’s, it could as easily be called more voluptuous, even if her one-piece swimsuit and less flimsy sarong did it few favours. Likewise, looking at her face without makeup, Alan realised that she didn’t need any; with her, “strong personality” would be a simple description, not a euphemism for “plain”…
He broke that line of thought. A little accidental voyeurism was one thing, leering at a younger woman who had apparently decided to treat him as a friend would be quite another.
“Okay,” he said, then paused. “Actually, if you want to know, Joseph isn’t the only boy on the island. When he’s finished back there, I’m sure he’ll be happy to show both of you around. If you’re interested, of course.”
The reply had an intensity of irritation that surprised Alan, and he looked hard at Margaret. Then, “Oh yes, I remember,” he said, “girls do grow up a bit faster in some ways. And I’m guessing you want to be taken seriously, too. Forget the suggestion. Sorry.”
“There’s more than that. If I go anywhere with Caroline, she gets the attention – and she loves it. She’s not really selfish, just boy mad. And I don’t want her cast-offs and rejects. I’ve seen the look in their eyes when they’re trying to pretend that I’m her.”
“You’re a worrying shrewd young woman, you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” For a moment, Margaret stared along the beach, but then she softened. “Thanks for trying, anyway.”
“You’ll be fine, once you’re away at university.”
“That’ll be months.” Alan raised an eyebrow. “Well, weeks. And just because I’m not Caroline, doesn’t mean I’m a bloody nun.”
“So go looking for someone who does suit you. I mean it. There’ll be other people at the hotel, and around the beaches, and you’re evidently quite capable of getting away from your parents for long enough.”
“So that’s your suggestion, then? Find something – someone – I want to try, and grab?”
“You’re young. That’s what being young is about.”
“Right. Right.” Margaret’s tone was odd, and Alan glanced at her just as she twisted round to kneel next to him. Then she jammed her mouth against his, her hand supporting the back of his head. For a moment, he resisted the pressure, but her tongue was so insistent against his lips that he seriously feared that she would hurt herself – and so he allowed it into his mouth, where it moved, exploring languorously.
Eventually, Margaret broke away, and Alan gasped. “Look,” he said quickly, “that’s not what I meant.”
“No – it’s what I meant.” Alan suddenly realised that Margaret was throwing her sarong aside. Then she reached up with both hands, hooked her thumbs under the shoulder straps of her swimsuit, and pulled the top down. “Don’t worry, I could see you were being polite. But I’ve decided that, if boys are going to be such a pain in the arse, maybe I ought to be one of those teenagers with a dangerous thing about older men.”
“You’re it, Mr Bryant.” Margaret stood up, and Alan realised that voluptuous was indeed the word for her breasts, and yet they also had some of her sister’s youthful perkiness. As he was considering this, she pushed her swimsuit down her (excellent, now he looked) legs and off altogether, revealing a dense but neatly-trimmed pubic bush, and then stepped forward, pushing her crotch into his face.
He could resist, he decided. He was old enough to control himself when he had to. He just wasn’t bloody well going to. It was too long since he got laid, and this young woman clearly knew exactly what she was doing.
He reached up around her thighs, clasping a buttock in each hand, holding her to him. She bent slightly at the knees, opening her cunt to his gaze, and then to his tongue. He found her clitoris, large and, it seemed to him, eager, and he set to work, applying skills that returned to him from some time since. She grasped his head with both hands, holding him to her as he applied himself to pleasuring her. He in return applied firm caresses to her buttocks.
After perhaps a minute, by which time she was wet and very ready, she pushed his head gently away and then stepped back. He hastily pulled his shirt over his head, and then clambered to his feet, undoing his belt as Margaret reached down to open his flies. His trousers and underpants hit the sand together, and Margaret gazed with an exaggerated show of admiration at his erect cock.
“Older men have got what it takes, then” she said.
“We do,” he said, and then a small remaining fragment of sense kicked in, and he rummaged amidst his discarded clothes for his wallet. He produced a condom from that, and looked up in time to see Margaret produce one from a compartment of her purse. They both laughed. “Right,” he said, “we’re both…”
“…Sensible people.” Margaret completed the thought, ripped the packet open, and applied the condom where it was wanted. Then, pushing shirt and sarong into place to act as a blanket of sorts beneath her buttocks, she lay down and opened her thighs wide. “So now fuck me, Mr Sensible.”
Alan knealt between her legs, holding his cock and guiding it towards her cunt lips with her aid. Then he pushed, and Margaret gasped, and clamped her legs around his thighs as he snug but well-lubricated cunt gripped his erection. He began to move, and it came to him that he had the good name of older men to uphold; he needed to give Margaret as much pleasure as he could manage before he lost control.
So he was slow, and methodical, and careful – to begin with. But he also accelerated, responding to her increasing moans of delight, until those moans turned into a wordless orgasmic yaaaaaa!
At which point, Alan remembered how long it had been since he’d fucked, and how good it felt to have a woman respond so enthusiastically. His accelerated thrusting continued, now out of control, pounding her buttocks into the soft sand of the beach. Within seconds, his balls tensed and pulsed, and he felt himself come, gasping softly at the release.
He lay on top of Margaret, then rolled off and lay on the sand, contemplating the blue sky and the feeling of sheer fucked-out bliss. “God” he said.
“Yeah” Margaret agreed, rolling over to lie on her front beside him. Then she giggled, and he realised that she was looking at something. He twisted to look the same way.
Caroline and Joseph had moved to the deck on top of the boat’s cabin, but hadn’t stopped their fun. They were lying in a sixty-nine position, although they’d evidently fucked themselves out enough to be slow and meticulous about this stage.
“They’re impossible” muttered Margaret.
“They’re young” replied Alan, then laughed. “God, listen to me. I used to say that whenever anyone younger than me was fucking – but look at me just now.” He paused. “I envy Joseph his stamina, though.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.” Alan glanced at Margaret as she reached down and grasped his cock – which, he suddenly realised, was far from limp even now. Then she frowned. “Oh god, you’re being inspired by the sight of my little sister” she said.
“Inspired by her, and by Joseph, and by you. Definitely by you.”
“That’ll do for the right answer.” Margaret squirmed down until her face was next to his cock, and then began running her tongue along its length. It reacted nicely; hers was a deft tongue.
When he was hard, Margaret pushed him onto his back with a muttered “my turn on top”, applied another condom, and then threw a leg over him and lowered herself onto him. Then she began to move slowly as he reached up.
“You have superb tits” he said.
“And you’re a real gentleman” she replied.
“No worries” she said. “Just so long as you carry on being – ohh – yes, that nice to them.” She evidently realised that she could draw this fuck out much longer if she was careful, and he didn’t want to stop her doing so. So he allowed himself to talk as her nipples grew hard.
“So how long have you had this idea about older men?” he asked.
Margaret frowned. “It’s been growing for a while. But a lot of it’s your fault.”
“But we only met this morning!”
“True. But you should hear daddy talk about you. The way he talked, whenever you and him went out for a drink or on a business trip, you’d have another woman with you. He’d say ‘tart’ or ‘trollop’ if he didn’t realise I was listening, mind you.”
Alan grunted in annoyance. “No professionals involved, I promise.”
“I didn’t think that there would have been. Especially not after I saw that picture you sent with yourself and the boat – the one with the Christmas card a couple of years ago. There was a man who wouldn’t have to pay for it, I reckoned.”
Alan grunted, mostly because his cock was throbbing deep inside Margaret, but said little. As he recalled, George Peterson had found out the hard way that at least one of Alan’s girlfriend’s wasn’t a professional, getting his face slapped hard – and had slipped off to use professional services after one or two business dinners. Still, telling a girl unprepossessing truths about her father is hardly polite when she’s fucking you.
“And the more he tried to make you sound like a womanising sleazebag, the more you sounded to me like somebody who must be a really good fuck.” Margaret smirked. “Hell, I was young and silly, I know, but you – okay, you became my fantasy man for a while.” But then Margaret became distracted, gasping and grinding her way to another orgasm.
“So you came all this way hoping to seduce your father’s old business contact?” Alan asked as she got her breath back.
“I crossed my mind. Especially when I met you, and you looked just like the photo. Now, excuse me, but I have something I need to do.” She bent forward, putting her lips to his ear. “I need to make you fuck me deeper and harder because I’m a greedy little tart myself and my cunt is hungry and suck on my tits and drain those big beautiful balls into me me me me me!”
Then she sat back up – leant back, grabbing his hands to clamp them to the much-discussed tits, and then threw her arms out and screamed Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck until he exploded into another orgasm. Then she smirked.
“So older men like girls who talk dirty” she commented as she clambered off him.
“Yes” he admitted. “But come on, we’d better get you home, or your parents will be worried.”
She laughed and threw his own underpants at him.
As they walked back towards the boat, Alan saw Joseph and Caroline, staring at them with startled expressions, and realised that Margaret’s vocal performance would have been hard to miss. “I think that we’ve shocked your sister” he said.
Margaret snorted. “I’ll shock her some more when I tell her what she’s been missing, sticking to boys. Fuck her.”
“I could do that, honestly. If you insist. She is quite pretty, in a skinny sort of way.”
It was a joke, but Margaret suddenly looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you should. Broaden her education.”
“That’s generous of you.” Alan wasn’t quite sure how much she was now joking herself.
“And I could distract myself with distracting Joseph. If you tell him what he’s been missing.”
“God, you’re not joking, are you?” Margaret shook her head with a filthy smirk. “I thought that you despised boys.”
“Oh, some of them are fun. If you don’t take them too seriously.” They’d reached the boat, and Margaret clambered aboard and looked around, her smile now sweetly innocent. “You know, I think that I might just enjoy this holiday.”