Ferry Ride

Ferry Ride
Callie witnesses searing public sex on a morning commuter ferry and gets the invitation to join in….

I wasn’t enjoying the harbour crossing this particular Wednesday morning. I was regretting my decision to avoid the ferry commuter rush from Manley to the Quay by taking the ‘early bird’. Yes I had some personnel space but it was winter chilly and as the ferry crossed The Heads, it was uncomfortably choppy and rough. I knew I had to get outside to the rails and risk the sea spray or end up barfing over my recently acquired Burberry coat. The full trench was very fetching on me, classic iconic beige. I was an upwardly mobile woman at twenty-three, at an international finance house; yeah, but I was too junior for inner city parking space privileges. Hence the ferry.

The salt spray into the headwind had that harsh whippy edge but the deep lung filling breathes were making sure I avoided stomach heaving mayhem. Though I had struggled to steady myself in the troughs and wave crests as the ferry rammed itself towards the city, currently caught in the turbulence where the exiting harbour swell was meeting the incoming ocean surge. I realised I was white knuckle gripping the guard rail. Well the aging craft was taking a buffeting.

It was when I looked astern, to get my face out of the wind, rather than forward or straight out as I had initially been doing that I saw them. Well to begin with it was a blurry frenzy of movement. I took in a male form and a female. And a very high raised female leg, held male hip high, with a short winter dress yanked up, no knickers, the tart, revealing a shaved pink slit being pummelled by a stiff cock. Well pussy buffeting came to mind. Really intense thrusting. Speed fucking basically. The pair was so totally self absorbed in base humping I actually had time to linger and rove over the whole salacious scene taking place in the alcove of the ferry.

I think their dirty momentum held against the ferry’s swaying because it was actually a counter force to the boats grim rocking. The tart also had a Burberry coat, pale blueberry, scrunched behind her, stopping her arse from being battered against the cold riveted metal panel behind her. Her head too was luckily strategically saved by a well positioned ferry lifebuoy. Mmm life-boy, she had one; she was having the life fucked out of her by more than a boy, alright.

I mean the guy was well presented, in a tailor cut suit, tall, clean shaven, well groomed, chiselled masculine, late twenties I guessed and the woman, about my age: randy, opportunistic, sexually needy early twenties, long brunette hair, tied back, and her eyes closed, swooning in sexual satisfaction. God the dude was pumping into her. My was her pussy in the receptive cock zone. I could see their combined glistening wetness. The wind and spray, the ferry’s unsteadiness were all unimportant to the fucking pair. They were fucking. I was jealous. They were fucking like we all want to fuck; hard, fast and risky. I was witnessing a perfect lust moment. My eyes drawn to the piston throbbing pecker drilling. I was suddenly pussy wet. I was swiftly cunt warm. I realised I was sexually flushed. I wanted to fuck immediately too.

My fingers were through my coat. I hitched my thick skirt in a crumpled ungainly way up, my goddamn pantyhose wriggled and stretched uncomfortably down, my fingers under my knickers, my slit pleased and instantly excited as I assuaged then assaulted my incredibly sodden girly hole. I had never got so moist between my legs so quickly. I was a grubby voyeur and enjoying it. Though I was fingering myself frantically imagining that gorgeous cock currently pounding the brunette was filling me. My pussy was happy under my fingers pressing delight. However, my mind was aching for that cock. I wanted to suck it, covered with her current fem-juices. I wanted it in my pussy. I wanted it in my arse as that woman fingered my clit. I was having my first bi- masturbatory experience and I was going to cum fast. Quicker than the pair fucking nearby and boy were they at it, at a fair rate of knots.

It was woman who turned slightly and saw me. Her eyes were riveting, sexually searing, full sparking Titian blue and then a flick of her head invited me to join them. Her tongue was sliding over her red lipstick smeared lips. I had been cock mesmerised but now I was female attracted, lured into her web of sticky pulsating sex; and the four metre space melted away, as I hurriedly hitched my underwear and I was kissing a girl as a guy fucked her. I was kissing a girl deeply for the first time as she was being rooted senseless.

Still I equally needed this guy’s hot stiff rod in me and knew what to do. I shamelessly and without hesitation worked the young woman’s clit as the brazen prick drilled her. She was really moaning now. I felt her body sort of stiffen. I felt her slight upward rise. I felt the wavy quivery uncontrollable pulsations warble from her thighs. Christ she was having an orgasm to remember. Her skin so warm to touch, yet the harbour surroundings were so wintry blustery cold.

Her lips were still trembly as I again kissed her. She really liked the added attention. She was fully into the extra body present. She liked the feminine touch as the topping to a hard masculine sensation.

“Oh God” I mouthed as the guy’s cock nuzzled around and into my pussy from behind me. He had quickly spread my legs, got under my coat, hitched my skirt, ripped my pantyhose from behind and yanked my knickers across my rump and was giving me what I craved, cock.

Oh, he was good, too frickin good. Still so stiff. Still so capable. So full of bloody energy too. Energy for me and his impending, impelling release. I selfishly wanted him to last till I ‘came’ too.

The young woman had a finger and thumb plying my needy clit. She knew I had to cum fast. This was all about the speed. The need was in the speed and the location.

“Oh shit” I added as she rimmed my arsehole with a finger of her other hand. A long tapered elegant finger entering my sensitive butthole and crooking around for extra sexual bliss. I entered a moment of complete womanly sexual definition. I was the body play thing of a man and a woman at the same time.

My pussy was sopping with absolute girly happiness. I was being fucked well. There are shags that are great. Roots that are memorable, but this was a slut fuck and I knew it. I embraced my public whore moment and amazingly it got better.
The confident bastard worked his cock into my relaxed arsehole courtesy of the girl’s second finger delving.

“Oh yes…oh Yes…deeper” I assured him, enjoying my arse’s intense moment of initial pleasure.

“Orrgh…Mmm…Ah…ah…Yes…Yes” from me as my tight rear crack got the buggering of my still tender years. I was being butt fucked like the skank I was in the moment. I thought I was going to burst open, and then there was this delicious rhythm of constriction and gratification. I was absorbed in my arsehole’s happiness.

The girl was finger fucking me at the same time now, while massaging my ready to explode clitty with her expert thumb work. I felt my craved, self-assured climax as the dudes cock jerked nicely in my tight arse. I experienced a full surging orgasm. Body tidal, forwards, backwards, in and upwards. Powerfully swelling around my mind and rolling back to my relieved pussy and sated puckered creamed arsehole. My mind only full of sex and then blasts of windy air.

However, I was hot and flushed. My hair mussed and my clothing crumpled, creased and untidy. The young woman took my hand and guided me back though into the lower deck, to the ladies loo, conveniently close by for us both to squeeze into and straighten up. I realised trench coats were more than a fashion item for girls, they were ideal for public sex and the covered up aftermath.

Some tissue wiping where we both needed it and smoothing out of bodily dressed forms and we were both ready to face the world as the community expected to see us: horny sexual beings under control. The ferry I noticed had steadied too in the calmer inner harbour waters.

“Diana” she said introducing herself, “like the Roman huntress.”

“Callie” I responded and her stunning blue eyes got that intrigued raunch look.

“Well” she said, “You know perhaps that it is a short form of Callisto, Diana’s slut” and she smirked.

I understood enough, but still had to ask, “You stalked the guy?” I was open mouthed incredulous. Of course I had stereotype assumed the guy was the sexual predator. Then I remembered her absence of knickers and pantyhose. She was a nympho huntress. She gave me the filthiest of inviting complicit leers.

We went back outside, ready to disembark at The Quay. We didn’t need the guy and he was gone anyway. No regrets from either of us. The ‘sensational’ still lingered hidden under our clothes.

We were on the gangplank. We were through the terminal. We gave each other a knowing guileful farewell, having briefly discussed the prospect of tomorrow morning, even if we never saw that particular handy guy again. We were in the ‘hunt’ together now. I made a mental note to self: NO knickers, NO pantyhose.