Kelly sighed and walked down the starboard gangway towards the bridge. "Bloody midnight, on bloody watch and practically everybody still ashore at the barbeque. Bugger!" she thought to herself. She reached the bridge and was about to enter when she paused for a moment to listen to the almost complete silence surrounding the boat as it rocked gently against the wharf. The only sound that could be heard, apart from the waves gently lapping against the hull, was a strange sort of liquid slurping, the source of which wasn't immediately obvious.
Until she noticed the shadows of two almost -- but not quite -- motionless figures through the opposite hatch of the bridge.
Paul, the first mate, was leaning back against the port taffrail, his uniform shorts puddled around his ankles. Kneeling in front of him, her head flashing backwards and forwards as she sucked on his cock, was Kate, the new stewardess, who had just joined the boat that morning.
Careful not to disturb the couple, she moved silently -- but swiftly, so as not to miss any of the action -- to the chartroom behind the bridge, from where she was pretty sure .... Yes, she had the perfect viewing angle.
Kate's cheeks hollowed whenever she moved her mouth down and forward onto Paul's rigid cock. She was sucking for all she was worth and it was evidently having the desired effect. Paul thrust his hips forward to meet every stroke of Kate's hot little mouth. His face bore a fixed grimace as he struggled not to give vent to the sounds bottling up inside him, along with what felt like a subterranean river of hot cum working its way up from his balls.
It was difficult for him, since Kate obviously held a PhD in fellatio. She varied the length and speed of every stroke, running her tongue -- with its piercing adding a whole new raft of sensation -- around the head of Paul's ample tool. Her close cropped dark brown hair, though moving with the motion of her head, did not obscure a clear view of Paul's length disappearing and reappearing every second.
