The dock

Roger asked me on our own boat. He said he wanted Dave. He said he wanted to hear me tell Dave what to do with my cunt, in that low voice, and he wanted to watch it land. I do not do hints when I mean a yes. I told Roger to bring him to the dock after the fuel window closed. Roger kissed me like a man who had been brave.

I stood on the wood in a plain navy polo, no mark on it, sun-bleached bob, jeans, the heels still back in the office. Dave came down the ramp with Roger and stopped at a respectful distance. I said Roger had asked, and that I wanted to fuck, and that if Dave wanted it he should say so with words. Dave said he wanted my cunt. He said he would follow my voice. Roger said that was the hope.

We did not fuck on the open dock. I took them as far as the shadowed end, behind the closed snack shutter, where the water showed and people did not. I told Dave to kiss me. He did, careful, then deeper when I said more. I told Roger to stand at my shoulder and put his hand on my waist so I could feel both of them. I unbuttoned the polo myself and put Dave's hand on my breast. I said, quiet, thumb, then mouth, and he obeyed. Roger groaned. I told Roger to tell me if his cock was hard. He said yes. I said good, stay.

Dave got my jeans open because I told him to, and he rubbed my cunt with the heel of his hand while I talked him through the pressure. I kept it low. Circles on my clit. Slower. Now your mouth on my cunt, and look up once, so Roger can see you mean it. Dave knelt on the boards and licked my cunt until my knees loosened and my hand landed in his hair. I came against his mouth, biting back a shout, telling him not to stop yet. Roger held me up. I turned and opened Roger's trousers and stroked his cock while I told Dave to stay kneeling and watch. Roger came in my fist with his face in my neck, whispering thanks. I kissed him, then Dave. I said the office had a lock and a desk and that my stockings were in the bag, and that Dave would fuck me there if I still said so. They followed.