The Motion of the Ocean

5 min read

photo: MetArt

Riding the waves on a Viking’s cock

The small boat rocks alarmingly as he thrusts his hard cock into me, but he just lets out a wild roar of laughter, unable to contain the sheer joyful freedom of fucking on the waves with the sea breeze whipping around us. I feel it too; the cool water lapping around my knees in the bottom of the boat, the scorching sun and stinging sea spray making me as giddy with pleasure as the rhythmic pounding I’m getting from this burly Viking conqueror.

It’s exhilarating, being naked under the sun with nobody but the birds and fishes to see us, the slap of our bodies together echoing the slapping of the waves against the boat’s hull. I’m wet inside and out, seawater tangling my long hair, sweat and pussy juice trickling down my thighs. It’s the perfect crescendo to a personal adventure I’ll never forget…

They do say fear is an aphrodisiac. Maybe not genuine terror, but the adrenaline rush of nervous excitement and apprehension certainly gets my heart racing and my pussy wet in a way that’s barely distinguishable from extreme sexual arousal.

I was out on a friend’s canal boat last weekend, enjoying the unseasonably mild weather, and he reminded me that I used to be afraid of the water. Now I’m the opposite, jumping on board without a moment’s hesitation. He asked me what had changed; and having shared the story with him (below deck, in his gently rocking bed) I thought I would share it with you, too.

Some time ago, I was hanging out on one of Malaysia’s west coast islands with some friends who were very keen divers. Despite being at one of the world’s best diving sites, I had no interest in joining them, preferring to spend my days reading and writing and lazing on the white sands. The truth was, I felt petrified at the idea of being fully submerged in the water. I’m not a strong swimmer, and although happy enough snorkelling, I really struggled with the idea of sinking far below the surface.

After a while though, I got tired of their incessant nagging about what I was missing; and to be honest I was in need of a little adventure. Paradise can get boring. I didn’t tell anyone, I just crept over to the resort’s dive shop and booked my first dive with a friendly girl I’d hung out with once or twice. I knew she’d take care of me, and I put it out of my mind until the following day.

When I showed up for my dive though, I was disconcerted to be met by Tore, a hulking Norwegian love-god who announced with a devilish smile that he’d be my instructor. I knew he wasn’t scheduled to be working that day, and anyway he was a senior divemaster who usually led advanced training groups, not novice divers. And although we’d chatted at the bar a few times, I’d assumed he was only interested in the elite dive chicks; it’s kind of a cliquey scene. But damn, his laid-back charm was simultaneously calming me and making me shiver with something other than trepidation.

I forced myself to concentrate as he taught me to use the equipment; you will die if you mess this up, I told myself. Then we were on the speedboat, heading around the bay, and I had the opportunity to study this big tanned Viking stud and conclude that I would really, really like to get physical with him.

First the diving, though.

And you know what, it was amazing.

Once we were down deep, I surrendered to the simple truth of breathe or die, and relaxed enough to enjoy the mind-blowing beauty that surrounded us. Tore held my hand and led me around, pointing out the incredible sights. I saw small sharks, shoals of vibrant fish, bright coral, even a tiny octopus that squirted a cloud of black ink at me. I was high on adrenaline by the time we returned to the boat, after what felt like ten minutes but Tore told me was actually closer to an hour. Wow.

We took off our wetsuits and lay in the boat in the sun, chatting, high on life. I couldn’t stop laughing. And Tore knew that’s what would happen, of course, he’d planned the whole thing so he’d get me alone and euphoric… but I didn’t care because the presence of his hard, muscular body next to mine was just so good; and the touch of his lips on mine was delicious; and fucking on a boat floating on the ocean felt like the inevitable finale to such an adventure.

So, picture me getting kissed — really kissed — by this burly Norwegian hulk of manhood, tasting the salt from his lips and gazing into his pale blue eyes. Though named for the Norse god of thunder, he should really be Aegir, giant lord of the ocean and host of all the best parties.

He pulls me on top of him, holding me tight so I’m exquisitely aware of his erection pressing against me. Only my damp bikini bottoms and his swim shorts are between us. And then there’s nothing between us as we undress each other, and I can’t help giggling with happiness at the thought that I’m naked on a boat on the South China Sea with this sexy man.

I straddle him and slide down slowly on his arrow-straight cock, which is as bronzed as the rest of his body, rising from a cloud of sun-bleached blond hair. I am so slick with desire after the adrenaline rush of our dive that big as his dick is, it glides into me smoothly until it’s sheathed to the root in my hot, pulsing cunt. I give his girth an experimental squeeze with my sugar walls, and he groans, and grins; and so do I. Life is sweet.

I usually like to ride hard and fast in cowgirl, but every time I move, the boat moves too, so I stick to a deliciously slow, grinding pace at first, stirring his cock inside me, the heat and lust overwhelming. He licks his fingers and reaches up to pinch my nipples with one hand, while he jams the thumb of the other against my clit. The tension is exquisite, his rigid shaft rubbing my G-spot just right, while the throbbing of my clit sends my pressure gauge rising. Soon I can’t hold back and start rising up and slamming down on him faster, the boat rocking crazily. I feel so alive, moving to the ocean’s swell, surfing the crest until it breaks and my orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami.

I collapse down on him, and he holds me tight and whispers sweet words in my ear as my shudders and the boat’s rocking subside. But he’s still rock hard inside me — more so, from feeling me cum around him — and his dammed up urge to thrust can’t be contained now. I turn over onto my knees, leaning over a seat to brace myself as he feeds his cock back inside me.

Now I’ve cum once, my pussy feels more sensitive than ever, and I swear every pitch and roll of the boat is magnified a thousand times by the sublime drag and slide of his cock hammering into me. But the glorious thing is, my fear of the water has vanished entirely, chased out of me by the day’s tumult of emotions. Now the rocking motion just enhances the blissful sensations, and I know Tore is tuned in to it too as he matches the snap of his hips to the ebb and flow of the tide. I’m clinging to the seat with one hand as the other pushes between my thighs to rub my clit, my drenched cunt clutching at him each time he thrusts deep, anchoring my soaring spirit as I feel another climax spiralling up within me.

“I want to see you,” he groans, pulling out and flipping me and spearing me again all in one movement, without missing a beat. I’m leaning my shoulders back against the bench seat now, gripping on for dear life as he supports me with his hand grabbing my ass and my legs wrapped around him, and his cock pinioning me like a white-hot blade.

His aquamarine eyes hold mine, turbulent with lust now, his strokes growing rapid and choppy until with a yell of release he starts to cum. The hot spurts trigger my own orgasm, and we slide to the bottom of the boat together, a tangle of quaking limbs and gasping breaths. Gently, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, then pulls back a little and looks into my eyes, searchingly.

The euphoria bubbles up again, and I laugh and laugh, full of the joy of the sea and the sun and the intensity of our shared orgasm, the transcendent experience of exploring a new underwater world, until a sense of calm finally washes over me.

“You feel it,” he says with a satisfied smile, gesturing around at the infinite horizon.

“Yes, I feel it,” I reply.

I’ve never been diving again since that day; I just haven’t felt the need. That one perfect experience was unsurpassable. And that, dear readers, is why I’m not afraid of the water any more.

More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…

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