Christina's Adventures Part 14 (Yacht Trip)
I woke up to the sharp morning light piercing through the windows. The spacious bed was empty; only the rumpled sheets and the faint scent of her perfume reminded me of the night that had passed.
My things lay neatly on the chair, folded with unexpected care, and on top was a white note with a phone number.
As I dressed, I caught the lingering sensations in my body—a slight ache in the stretched holes, a pleasant fatigue in my muscles, a warm pulsing somewhere low in my belly.
The house greeted me with silence—Mom wasn't there; apparently, she had also stayed out somewhere until morning. I went to the bathroom, undressed, and examined myself in the mirror:
— Bruises on my hips from her grip
—
Marks from the belt on my neck— A slight swelling between my legs
But instead of shame, I felt only a wave of arousal, remembering how she had commanded my body.
The door swung open silently, letting in Mom with a radiant face and an unusually light gait. Her full lips stretched into a satisfied smile, her hair was loose over her shoulders, and a fresh hickey was visible on her neck, like a silent witness to a wild night.
— Hi, sunshine! — she called out on the go, kicking off her shoes and disappearing into the bathroom. The scent of expensive perfume and something masculine hung in the air.
I slowly undressed, left alone with the mirror. The reflection seemed deceptive:
— The neat pussy had closed up, as if it hadn't taken monstrous sizes yesterday
— But the anal ring yielded, wrapping around a finger, habitually expanding
— The bruises on my thighs and the bite marks on my chest gave away the truth.
I kept my finger inside, remembering how it had stretched indecently yesterday. My body shuddered—not from pain, but from a treacherous excitement.
The sound of water from the shower mixed with Mom's humming. I caught myself wondering, would she know that I screamed with pleasure yesterday when she was fucked in both holes…
I put on tight denim shorts that barely covered the finger marks on my thighs and a semi-transparent tank top without a bra—my nipples clearly showed through the thin fabric. Mom stood by the stove, wrapped in a short towel, revealing long legs with fresh scratches on the inner thighs.
— I see you had a fun night! — her voice sounded playful, but her eyes analyzed my appearance, lingering on the bruise near my collarbone.
— Ye-e-e-es, — I deliberately drawled, running my tongue over my lips, — You, apparently, did too!
She nervously adjusted her hair, unsuccessfully trying to cover the purple hickey on her neck.
During breakfast, her fingers unconsciously stroked her own hickey when she was lost in thought. Our eyes met and instantly looked away, like two criminals hiding different crimes.
The next two days flew by in a whirlwind of shared fun with Mom. We explored the city, laughed until we cried in cozy cafes, took silly selfies in front of landmarks, and tried cocktails with exotic names that Mom chose with particular excitement.
We texted with Ama, exchanged Instagrams, and now I scrolled through her photos with a secret thrill. In the pictures, she was irresistible—elegant dresses, refined poses, not a hint of that surprise that was so impressively hidden under the silk. Ama wrote that she wanted to come to Moscow, and I kindly invited her to our place.
A message popped up on the screen, making my heart beat faster.
— Hey! I was thinking… We should go out on a yacht to the sea and be alone before I fly to Moscow!
— Hey! I'm in! — Butterflies in my stomach came alive; I imagined how we would spend time together and no one would disturb us.
— Then grab your swimsuit, I'll be at your place in an hour!
I ran to get ready; the burgundy swimsuit with white trim hugged my tanned bronze body, the thong dug deep between my buttocks, emphasizing every tempting curve. The bra with thin laces playfully cinched my breasts, leaving seductive half-tones under the fabric. The toned abs, sculpted thighs, and firm ass all screamed about how much I wanted his gaze to slide over me.
A light white dress completed the look—it was so transparent in the sun that it only hinted at what was hidden beneath.
Tossing suntan oil and condoms into my purse, I was ready for the sea trip. Outside, a topless jeep stopped, loud music playing from it.
Timur was dressed in a white polo, light shorts, and Maxims.
He leaned back in the seat, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but I knew he was already looking at me through the glass. A smile touched his lips when I came out, and the wind immediately played with my dress, hinting that this trip would be hot in every sense.
As soon as I settled into the leather seat of his jeep, my fingers intertwined in his hair, and my lips found his in a tender but passionate kiss. His lips tasted deliciously of mint gum and something warm, masculine—this sweet taste sent shivers down my spine.
The road wound along the shore, revealing dazzling views. Turquoise waves crashing against the rocks. Golden beaches, empty at this hour. The sun playing in his hair when he turned his head.
The pier amazed with its luxury—glossy yachts, expensive boats, an atmosphere of big money. But my eyes only caught our yacht—elegant, snow-white, like a swan on the water.
Timur held my hand firmly, and his fingers gently squeezed my thigh as he helped me board.
— And where is our captain? — I asked, looking around the yacht with a questioning glance.
He smiled slyly, his eyes sparkling mischievously
— Why do we need him? Today, I'll be your captain.
— Cool, my captain! — I laughed, settling next to him.
The engine rumbled, and we pulled away from the pier, leaving the shore behind. The yacht rocked gently on the waves as we sailed along the shore, surrounded by cliffs.
— Since I'm the captain today, you'll be my assistant! — his voice sounded commanding, but playful sparks danced in his eyes.
— Yes, my captain! What are your orders? — I giggled deliberately coquettishly, crossing my legs so that the thong flashed from under the dress.
— To start—fruit and a bottle of wine from the fridge. Take it to the bow of the yacht. — he gave me a daring look, clearly enjoying the sight of my legs in that position.
I carried out the order with exaggerated seriousness. The fruit was arranged on a plate with the elegance of a sommelier, the wine bottle chilled to just the degree where drops of condensation seductively roll down the glass.
Creeping up from behind, I wrapped my arms around him, my palms spreading on his chest, and my nails lightly scratching the fabric of the polo.
— It's like you read my mind… I dreamed so much of a yacht trip—my voice grew quieter as I rested my chin on the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his hair—sea salt and expensive perfume.
— What else does my captain desire? — my fingers began to slowly massage his neck, slipping under the fabric, massaging his chest, and lightly squeezing his nipples, making his breathing a little deeper.
— OOO, you give a good massage! — he breathed heavily.
— I do everything well! — my nails slowly began to slide up from his swollen nipples to his neck.
— Maybe the assistant can help me with the helm? — he patted his leg, inviting me.
I slowly walked around the chair, feeling his gaze slide over my legs, thighs, firm ass hugged by the thong. The dress slipped off my shoulders, revealing my tanned body in the revealing swimsuit.
With exaggerated grace, I lowered myself onto his lap, deliberately arching my back to show off all the curves. His hands immediately wrapped around my waist, and his hot breath burned my neck.
— Captain, do you really need help? — I deliberately bit my lip innocently, taking the helm. But my fingers trembled—not from fear, but from anticipation.
The yacht rocked slightly on a wave, making my body press tighter against him. His lips touched my shoulder blade, and his palm burned on my stomach, fingers digging into my skin as if trying to leave marks. My breathing quickened as his hand slowly crept down, to the edge of the thong, stopping a centimeter from the goal, tormenting me, making me arch toward him.
The yacht slowed, gently rocking on the azure waves, as if adjusting to the rhythm of our bodies. My hips involuntarily slid between his legs, feeling through the thin fabric of his shorts the hard ridge of his arousal.
The engine died down with a lazy rumble, the anchor splashed into the water, and suddenly we were enveloped in silence, broken only by the cries of a seagull and the whisper of waves breaking against the majestic cliffs on the horizon.
I slowly rose from his lap, lingering deliberately close to his face before leaning in and catching his lips in a tender but promising kiss. His taste mixed with the salty air, and his hands reflexively grabbed my hips, not wanting to let go.
— It's so hot… I want to swim! — my fingers slid over his chest before I pulled him along, smiling playfully as he tried to cover the bulge in his shorts.
At the stern, Timur lowered the ladder, but I was already rushing forward, executing a perfect dive into the turquoise depths. The water embraced me with cool arms, and the sun blinded through the thickness of the waves.
He jumped after me, surfacing a centimeter from my face.
— I know my captain will save me! — I wrapped my arms around his neck, deliberately innocent, but then my hand slid lower…
His eyes widened when my fingers encountered the rock-hard cock in his soaked shorts.
— O-o-oh, captain… What a big helm! — I playfully ran my palm over the bulge, feeling him tense under my touch.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I pushed him under with a sharp motion. He surfaced, spouting a stream of water from his mouth.
— What's this? A mutiny against the captain? — he said with a smile!
— Catch me, and I'll be yours! — turning my ass to him, I slapped myself.
— So it's war? — Timur laughed, his hands churning the water as he tried to catch me, but I deftly dodged, diving under him.
The game began; I clung to his shoulders, trying to dunk him with a splash of water. He lifted me above the waves, spinning me as if in a dance, before dropping me with a loud splash. Our laughter echoed between the cliffs, mixing with the cries of the seagull.
— Caught! — he locked me in an embrace from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder, and his hands pinning mine.
— Not fair! — I burst out laughing, helplessly writhing in his iron grip. But Timur only pressed me tighter against him, his chest like a hot slab against my back.
His palms slid forward, cupping my breasts through the wet swimsuit—fingers slowly squeezing, playing with my nipples, which immediately hardened from the touch.
— So you're taking me prisoner? — my voice trembled as his lips clung to my neck, leaving hot kisses on the salty skin. My eyes rolled back on their own, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
— Yeah… — he rasped, not letting go, and began slowly retreating toward the yacht, making me walk backward. The water kissed my thighs, and his hands continued to squeeze my breasts, as if afraid I would escape.
He abruptly threw me onto the swim platform, pressing my back against the warm wooden deck. Our lips merged in a kiss, tongues slowly rubbing against each other, twisting into a knot.
His hands slid over my waist, making my knees treacherously buckle. I responded in kind, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling drops of water roll off his back under my fingers.
— You're so salty… — he pulled away, his voice hoarse, and his gaze blazing as he slowly licked his lips, as if preserving my taste.
— Ye-e-es… — I breathed rapidly, my hands trembling from an overload of sensations. — We should wash off the sea…
I bit my lip, running my palm over his chest, leaving a wet trail.
— There's a shower below; go wash up, and I'll rinse off here with the hose…
The yacht's bathroom turned out to be a cozy capsule with transparent glass walls through which light filtered. I dropped the wet swimsuit, and it fell onto the tiles with a squelching sound.
Citrus-scented gel foamed in my palms and then spread over my body. The foam slid over my neck, washing away the salt. My fingers massaged tense shoulders. The water washed everything away, leaving only a light sheen on my skin.
A white terry robe hung nearby—it was a size too big, exposing my collarbones and part of my chest when I tied the belt. My hair smelled of the sea and shampoo, and my bare feet left wet prints on the wooden floor.
I lightly ran up the ladder to the bow of the yacht, where Timur was sprawled on soft cushions, sipping wine from a glass. The sunset gilded his hair, wet from the hose, and his gaze literally stuck to my chest, where the robe had shamelessly opened with my movement.
— Isn't the robe a bit big? — he swallowed, his voice sounding deliberately calm, but his fingers were already squeezing the glass until his knuckles turned white.
I slowly sat down next to him, deliberately leaning on my hands so that my back arched and the robe's neckline opened even wider, revealing the seductive curve of my breast.
— I think it's just right, — my lips stretched into a coquettish smile as I caught his gaze running over my skin. One careless move, and the robe could completely lose its purpose…
Timur handed me a glass of wine; the yacht rocked gently on the water, the beautiful view of the cliffs and the golden sunset playing on my chest added eroticism to the moment. Timur took a strawberry in his hand and brought it to my mouth; I smoothly wrapped my lips around it along with his fingers, his eyes burning with admiration.
— Delicious? — he asked with a subtle smile.
— Sweet… — I deliberately drew out the word.
I took the berry and put it halfway into my mouth, wrapping my lips around it, and moved closer to him; he smoothly approached me and pressed his lips, taking his half.
In the kiss, I pushed him onto his back, ending up on top of him; our tongues greedily rubbed against each other, our eyes met, making my stomach feel warm. Without breaking away from my lips, he lifted himself up, and I sat on his legs; his tongue slid over my lips as if trying to tickle them, then slid along the entire length of my tongue. His hands slipped under the robe and began stroking my tanned body; his cock through his shorts pressed against my bare pussy, making it clear he was ready for anything just to be inside her.
My hips began a measured rhythm, gently swaying over his tense cock, teasing him through the thin barrier of fabric. Every movement was artfully calculated to make him moan but not give full satisfaction; our breathing became heavy, our heartbeats transmitted through our tongues. His hands cupped my breasts, and his thumbs began pressing on my pink