Two competitions, a boat, and the Mediterranean Sea

Moscow.

That evening, two former department heads dropped by "for a coffee." The balding, dark-haired Boris with a budding paunch — foreign exchange department, and the rail-thin Sergey with an unruly, sticking-up light brown crew cut — securities.

They were definitely doing well. The severance pay they'd received literally oozed green prosperity from their eyes. Boris placed an espresso cup next to him, sat on the table proprietarily, and cleared his throat:

— Girls! We're going to sea for 5 months. Before we start new jobs. Igor bought a boat, and we intend to have a breathtaking journey across the Mediterranean. From May through September inclusive. We'll see all the exotic corners. And we're looking for female companions. Come with us! Why look for who-knows-who on dating sites? This way you know us… Shall we outline the terms?

Sveta and Larisa exchanged glances. Igor had been Sergey and Boris's boss, the supervising deputy chairman. Seemed reasonable. Sveta, a shapely brunette, as the most sensible one, nodded first.

Svetlana raised her eyebrows in surprise:

— Not expensive…

Boris wasn't fazed:

— Judge for yourself. One effective blowjob a day, five months, that's at least 3k euros in hand at the end. I could call it a bonus. But it's important for me to be honest.

— Student rates, just twenty bucks! — Larisa laughed, but it was impossible to tell if she was joking or outraged. Sveta's friend was a classic blonde with long hair; pretending to be the heroine of jokes was her shtick.

— We consciously don't want to set rates for other types of sex. We really want our journey to resemble prostitution less and an erotic holiday more. All other sex will be only by mutual consent. And I don't want to regulate it now.

Boris frowned, as if remembering something:

— Cunnilingus, of course, is free. We'll use condoms, but you'd better get IUDs. And naturally, we'll collect all health certificates. From everyone!

— You talk as if we've already agreed, — Lariska decided to switch to informal "you" with her former boss.

— Well, judge for yourselves. May holidays are ahead. You'll start sending out resumes and spend the whole summer eating through your severance. Even if everything goes great, you won't start work before autumn. You'll want a break yourselves, and your future bosses will postpone decisions until "after vacation." This way, you'll relax, have fun, and earn some money. You worked reception here, no guarantee they won't make indecent proposals at your new place. If it works out, we'll help you get jobs.

— The idea… — Sveta began to assess Boris's proposal but stopped and asked directly: — What's stopping us from just splitting into couples and not setting up a brothel on board?

Boris brightened up, apparently waiting for the question:

— There are three of us, two of you. Look for a third girl? Most likely, she'd be an outsider. Only five cabins. So, she'd have to be assigned to someone.

— Well, we could be together, — Larisa glanced at her friend.

— Not serious, — Boris cut her off, — We're not going for a week, but for five months. Five people in a confined space? Everyone needs a corner with their personal space. And besides. Couples? That means certain obligations. We can't assume they'll be stable in advance. Squabbles will start. Inevitably. And the "69" position can resolve any quarrel.

— It all comes down to oral sex! — Larisa proclaimed.

— We're former colleagues, that doesn't mean we can achieve sexual harmony right away. But oral sex is a guarantee of phenomenal sex. Sooner or later. Each of you will have a private head with a shower! — Boris laid his trump card on the table.

The girls were silent.

— Just think! The entire Mediterranean to the rhythm of the Brazilian carnival! Decide! Can I add more arguments? — Boris looked questioningly at Sergey, who had been silent until now. He nodded.

— Yes! — Lariska laughed hysterically.

— Yevgeny Ivanovich's office has a shower, — Boris nodded towards the dark corridor, — Go there, and we'll show you how gentle our tongues are.

Larisk immediately jumped up in the indicated direction, took a few steps, and looked back at her friend in bewilderment.

"You haven't had a man in a year!" her look said.

"Yes, a woman's life is short, once you pass thirty, there won't be offers like this anymore," Sveta thought and followed her friend. In the team of the defunct bank, divorced women predominated, languishing for years without a man, despite all the gyms and social networks.

"What am I getting into?" she asked herself, pressing her forehead against the wall while frivolous Lariska took a shower. In her head, Svetlana went over Boris's arguments. But any of her thoughts was interrupted by the remark: "There's going to be cunnilingus now!"

— I'll wait for you here, — the blonde declared, letting Sveta into the shower room. In the dark, her eyes gleamed with madness. "Larisk probably gives better blowjobs than me, look how confident she is!"

They returned to the reception desk, holding hands like children. Without stockings or panties. Boris grabbed Larisa and pulled her behind the desk. There, the boss's chair, retrieved from Yevgeny Ivanovich's office, already stood proudly. Larisk was surely familiar with that chair, though the girls never discussed it; Yevgeny Ivanovich had invited the blonde to his office to relax. "He never invited me," Sveta remembered. Sergey stood by the leather visitor's sofa. Understandingly, he glanced at the timid Svetlana and dimmed the lights. The girl saw that the giggling Boris and Larisa were hidden behind the desk, and she sat on the sofa. There was nowhere to put her purse with the wad of tights. Sergey knelt before her and spoke for the first time that evening.

— Spread your legs, please.

"This is a command I'll be listening to for five months!" Sveta thought and obeyed. Sergey's tongue touched right on the most cherished spot under her clitoris. "Let him never talk at all! — She declared to herself, — If his mouth is always busy with this!" This was her last coherent thought; Sergey's gentle tongue unleashed a stream of fragmented fantasies on her. One moment Sveta wanted to immediately see her partner's cock, then she wanted to suck it, then she wanted hard penetration, then she wanted Boris to drop Larisk and join in immediately.

When Sveta came, Sergey held his tongue right under her hole with his tongue blade, and she opened her eyes, Boris was kneeling nearby. He nudged his comrade with his shoulder and pressed his mouth to Sveta's pussy.

— Oh! — Sveta squealed, digging her fingers into Boris's hair. She saw Seryoga go behind the desk and closed her eyes again.

"Now, now, now! I'm going to suck!" — with this idea, Svetlana came again.

But she was wrong.

Boris restored the normal lighting, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and declared:

— You have a week to decide, get certificates and IUDs, and then to sea!

But the flight to Marseille, where Igor was to take delivery of a new beauty of a sailing yacht from the dealer, only happened three weeks later. And those three weeks passed in a daze. At night, Svetlana had trouble falling asleep, she dreamed of never-seen cocks of Boris, Igor, and Sergey, and she whispered into her pillow, "Yes! Yes! I agree!" She dreamed of conquering one of them. In the light of day, the idea of going on an erotic journey seemed idiotic to the girl. "Five months of sucking!" she was surprised and outraged, but obediently arranged visas, tickets, certificates. She got the IUD right away. "Boris is right, the '69' position means future harmony in bed." Svetlana sublimated her nightly erotic fantasies by buying DK guidebooks for Mediterranean countries and islands; she wanted to be more than a sex toy in the company and tried on the duties of a guide in advance.

**

Marseille.

When Sveta came out of the head, Boris was sitting in the far corner of the bunk, which took up the entire width of the cabin, naked with his legs spread wide.

— Come to me, — his voice rasped from the darkness.

Sveta dropped her towel and got on all fours into the space between her partner's legs. She wanted to meet gentle Borya's eyes, but he interpreted her hesitation in his own way:

— Suck! — he commanded with pleasure, and the girl realized she had indeed been waiting for this command for three weeks.

She took Boris's cock entirely into her mouth; it was washed, but his pubic area aromatically smelled of desire; she hesitated a little and became gentle. The cock obediently hardened.

"I can! He likes me! Hooray!" — Sveta tried hard. In the midst of the blowjob, someone entered the cabin and ran their tongue along her pussy all the way to her anus. "Sergey?" — but Borya didn't let her stop and turn around. The new partner firmly grabbed her hips with his palms and confidently penetrated her — just as firmly as Boris, close to ecstasy, held her by the ears, impaled Sveta on a cock of magnificent hardness to its full length. And he moved, moved, moved. The third unknown participant distracted the girl from her mouth work; now she dumbly held Boris's cock with her lips, gripping it as far and tightly as possible. She came at the moment when the stranger's cock erupted inside her, and he immediately pulled back, disappearing into the darkness of the saloon.

Sveta returned to the blowjob. The barely leaking semen dripped down to her knees, and Boris came too. Sveta hesitated but swallowed everything. She had decided from the start to swallow because she "read on the internet" that men don't like it when their partner spits.

"Now that's a start!" — the girl fell asleep with the firm intention of finding out in the morning who had anonymously fucked her?

**

Sveta woke up first, went out into the saloon. The cabin on the right was occupied by Larisk. The two cabins on either side of the companionway to the cockpit were occupied: the skipper's cabin by Igor, and the second? The girl peeked in there. Sergey was sleeping on his back. Without underwear, as expected. Silently, she leaned over him and took his cock into her mouth. The cock was clean, responded immediately. "Holy cow! I'm standing in the same pose as last night!" But no one woke up; Sveta silently sucked him to completion. Sergey gratefully ruffled her hair but still said nothing.

**

Sveta peeked into Igor's cabin. He was already making noise in the shower, so the girl sat on the floor. And when the giant — the boat's owner — appeared in the doorway wearing only a towel around his hips, she looked up at him with plea and submission. She had seen that look in some porn film. Igor correctly read her look and dropped the towel. Sveta knelt and began to suck. Meanwhile, the whole crew gathered in the saloon for breakfast, and she kept sucking and sucking. In public. "Probably, it was Igor last night," Svetlana decided, swallowing a new portion of semen. She rose from her knees, indifferently glanced over the faces of the pleased spectators, and noticed two five-liter water jars with the tops cut off. Into the jar labeled "Sveta," Igor dropped a third twenty-euro note. At the bottom of the "Larisa" jar, there were only two bills… And above the jars was attached a whiteboard on which a marker had drawn a table of two rows: Boris, Sergey, Igor on top and the number "1,000,000" written three times.

— What does this mean? — Sveta inquired.

— Restless Borya doesn't want to travel just for fun, — Igor explained, — He set up a competition.

— We're all stock speculators; I suggested they compete to see whose strategy is better.

Sergey nodded.

"We're here sucking for twenty bucks, and they're playing with millions!?" — Sveta wanted to be outraged, but Borya noticed the blush on her face.

— The million is conditional, to make competing more convenient, but we all got different severance packages.

— We don't want to peek into each other's pockets, — Igor confirmed, and Sergey simply nodded again. But his eyes gleamed with excitement at the sight of his virtual million.

Ibiza — Sardinia.

Wandering around the boat naked wasn't romantic. So Sveta wrapped herself in a translucent robe, took her special "oral pillow," and went out into the saloon. Today she had the sad right to wear panties, so Svetlana sighed and headed to the navigator's station. Igor was sitting there at the computer.

— What are you doing? — Sveta threw the pillow at his feet.

— Well, finally decided to work a bit, — Igor spread his legs, allowing the girl to move closer, — Otherwise, it's getting dull.

Sveta didn't need to look where the skipper pointed. Under his name on the board, the untouched million still shone. So, with a habitual gesture, she directed his cock into her mouth and closed her eyes.

A rustle came from behind. On Igor's boat, there was no "island" in the middle of the saloon where dishes, trash, and a second refrigerator are usually stored. Instead, the former deputy chairman had installed a specially ordered bench, a hybrid of an exercise machine and a motorcycle mockup. The bench was attached to the floor on two supports, each adjustable in height. The backrest reclined and locked at different angles. The backrest had handles, and between the bench supports hung rigid "pedals" that everyone constantly bumped their feet against.

Larisk had taken a liking to the bench. At every stop, she lay on it on her stomach, provocatively dangling her long, thin legs and licking her lips. The blonde adjusted the bench's height so that the cock of any man passing by ended up right opposite her mouth. And you could only pass through the saloon by the bench. And the men couldn't just pass by. Each time, Larisa carefully latched on for at least a minute. As a result, the male half of the crew was constantly "in good shape," listened distractedly to Sveta's stories about sights, and showed little interest in the investment competition. Boris was the only one showing drive, and only until the Balearic Islands. His account had grown by 10 percent.

Now Sveta was sucking and thinking about how cunning Larisk was. Borya once noticed her sharp glance at the blonde and quietly warned: "If you start quarreling, you'll get the 69 position. Let's see if it's true that girls agree to pink sex easier than men agree to blue?"

Igor interrupted her with a touch:

— And now, slower. The way I like.

Sveta looked back. A decent pile of twenties had accumulated in her jar, while Larisa's jar was empty. The blonde couldn't resist the shops of Ibiza, borrowed a fair amount of money from the partners, and was now working it off at the rate of 100 euros for a double. Sveta didn't know the exact figures, but Larisk's daily "sandwich" was going to last for more than a week.

Sergey was lying on the bench on his back, legs dangling on either side. Larisa was pretending to be a motorcyclist. Legs on the "pedals," hands on the "handlebars," but she was sitting on Sergey's cock. The silent one was kissing the blonde's nipples,