Chapter 8: Ride on the canal
The morning was clear and cool, the sky a sharp, faultless blue that seemed to mock the complexity of human arrangements. They were early, the city still rubbing sleep from its eyes, the canal water glassy and dark. Anne was already waiting, a silhouette against the wooden cabin of a small, elegant sloop. She wore impossibly tight denim shorts, a white shirt unbuttoned dangerously low with obviously nothing beneath it, and a ridiculous, perfect captain’s hat tilted at a jaunty angle, her blond hair in two lose pigtails. She looked like a meme of a fantasy, and the reality was a punch to Mark’s gut.
“All aboard,” Anne said, her smile sharp and knowing. They jumped the narrow gap onto the deck, the boat rocking gently under their weight. The engine puttered to life, a quiet chug that shattered the morning silence. Anne took the helm, guiding them out into the network of canals, showing them the main spot in the city. As they slid past gabled house fronts and under arched stone bridges, the tourist crowds still thin, Julie and Mark couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. It was a quiet, desperate fumbling. Julie’s hand rested on his thigh, her fingers walking inward with deliberate slowness. He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, tasting kiss that was more about claiming a moment of stability than passion. Julie broke the kiss, her lips swollen, her eyes on Anne’s back.
“Go, Touch her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the engine and the water. Mark stared at her. “What?” “While she drives. Go on. She’s part of this. Touch her.” His heart hammered against his ribs. He stood, unsteady on the gently moving deck, and moved to stand beside Anne at the wheel. She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the waterway ahead, a faint smile playing on her lips. He reached out, his hand hovering for a second before he laid it on her thigh, one finger rising slowly up until he reached the warm, denim-clad curve of her ass. The fabric was strained taut. He squeezed. The muscle beneath was firm, resilient.
Anne let out a soft, breathy sigh. “Steady, sailor,” she murmured, but she pushed back slightly into his hand. He glanced back at Julie. She was watching, one hand slipped inside the front of her opened up jeans, her expression one of intense, focused hunger. He moved his hand, sliding it around Anne’s hip, under the loose tail of her shirt. His palm found the flat plane of her stomach, then rose to cup the bare, heavy weight of her breast. Her skin was shockingly warm. Her nipple pebbled instantly against his palm. He rolled it between his fingers, and this time her gasp was louder, a hitch in her professional composure. The boat veered slightly before she corrected it. “Eyes on the road,” Julie called out, "hands on the captain" a dark laugh in her voice.
Mark lowered his hand and slide it in her short. She started to moan and she knew she had to guide them away from the main arteries, into a quieter, residential canal where willow branches trailed in the water and the houses sat back behind private gardens. She killed the engine, letting momentum carry them to a vacant stretch of moss-slick wall. Silence flooded back, broken only by the lapping of water and the distant cry of gulls.
“Inside,” Anne said, her voice husky. She led Mark by the hand through a small doorway into the cabin. It was a cozy, dim sanctuary, paneled in dark, polished wood that smelled of lemon oil and aged leather. Low benches ran along both sides, and brass railings were fixed to the walls for stability. The light filtered through small, round portholes, dappling everything in moving, liquid gold.
Julie followed, the heavy metal handcuffs from the previous night’s bag gleaming in her hand. “You know the drill,” she said, her voice not unkind. Mark offered his wrist. The cold brass clicked shut around it, the other end secured to a stout railing. He was anchored, sitting on the bench, his back to the plush cushions. The vulnerability was immediate, thrilling, and terrifying.
Julie went back outside, to watch them from the deck and resume pleasuring herself. Anne didn’t hesitate. She sank to her knees on the wooden floor between his spread legs. Her hands went to his belt, his button, his zipper, working with swift, clinical efficiency. She freed his cock, already thick and eager. She didn’t go straight for it. Instead, she leaned forward, her breath hot, and began to lick. She licked long, flat stripes from the base to the tip, then swirled her tongue around the head, collecting the bead of moisture that had already gathered. She traced the thick vein on the underside with the very tip of her tongue, a detailed cartography. Her eyes were open, locked on his, as she took him into her mouth, inch by devastating inch.
On the deck outside, Julie unzipped her jeans fully. From the cabin, Mark heard the wet sound as her fingers found her own flesh. He turned his head to see her working herself with two fingers, her hips lifting off the cushion, her other hand holding the bulwark. Her eyes were fixed on Anne’s bobbing head. “She’s good, isn’t she?” Julie panted. “A fucking goddess . Look at her.” He looked. Anne was taking him deeper, her lips stretching around his girth. She relaxed her jaw, and he felt the incredible, tight slide as she took him all the way, until his pubic bone pressed against her nose. Her throat convulsed around the head of his cock, a series of fluttering, involuntary swallows that made him see stars.
The boat rocked suddenly, a wake from some distant passing vessel. The motion shoved him deeper into Anne’s throat. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes, but she didn’t pull back. She held him there, drowning on him, as the cabin swayed around them. Julie said from the deck "This is just the warm-up,” her voice filthy and low. “Where she’s taking us next…mmm Mark... They’re expecting us. They’re expecting to watch you finally take my ass like I promised humm While I rides her face... Still Think you can handle that, Mark?
Her words were a psychic gut-punch, a wave of shameful, blinding arousal. He groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily into Anne’s mouth. She pulled back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lip to his shining cock. Then, with a fluid grace, Anne removed her short and climbed onto his lap. She faced Julie and settled over him, sliding his dick inside her white lace thong. He felt the hot, soaked silk of her cunt lips against the shaft of his cock. She began to grind, a slow, torturous rotation that coated him in her slickness.
Julie moved in. Her hands went to Anne’s shirt, pulling it fully open. Anne’s breasts swung free, in his face, full and heavy with tight, pink nipples. Julie didn’t kiss them. She lowered her head and bit one, sharp and sudden. Anne cried out, her back arching, her grinding becoming more frantic.
“Yes! Harder!” Julie complied, biting and sucking, her hands pinching and twisting the other nipple until it was red and furled. The boat, agitated by their movements and the residual wake, began to rock more violently. Through the porthole, Mark glimpsed the blurry faces of people on a tourist boat passing in the adjacent canal.
“Switch,” Julie commanded, her voice guttural. Anne lifted herself off him, and Julie slid to the floor between his legs. She took his cock into her mouth, but not like Anne had. This was possessive, savage. She sucked him with a frantic, hungry rhythm, her hand working his base, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she were consuming something vital. Meanwhile, Julie’s other hand hooked into the waistband of Anne’s thong. She yanked it down Anne’s long legs, exposing her completely. Anne stepped out of it, kicking them aside.
Mark surprised himself, wishing she had put it in his mouth again. Then he heard his own voice begging for it. "Can you put it in my mouth again? Please?" Julie stopped and laughed, victorious. She nodded to Anne, granting her approbation. Now naked from the waist down, her shirt hanging open, she slide her fingers inside her. She made him lick them, and with the same fingers, retrieved her wet thong to slide it in his mouth.
“Now,” Julie said, pulling her mouth off him with a pop. “Get on him. I want to watch him fill you up.” Anne needed no further instruction. She sat on him again, against his back this time like he was the bench, skin to skin. Julie reached between them, guiding his slick cock to her entrance. She was dripping, her folds swollen and open. She sank down slowly, a low, ragged moan tearing from her throat as she impaled herself on him, taking him all the way until she was seated fully in his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. “Fuck,” Mark gasped. The feeling was unbearable. The tight, hot clutch of her, the exposed, public reality of it, the look on Julie’s face.
Julie didn’t just watch. As Anne began to move, lifting herself almost off him before slamming back down, Julie moved closer, her face level with their joined bodies. As Anne rode him, Julie’s tongue came out, and she began to lick. She licked Anne’s clit in firm, circling strokes, timing it with Anne’s downward movements. She licked the stretched place where Mark’s cock disappeared into Anne’s body, tasting the mix of their fluids. She was a frenzied participant, her fingers digging into Anne’s thighs, her moans vibrating against Anne’s skin. Anne’s movements became jerky, uncontrolled. She was sobbing with each descent, her breasts swaying, her head thrown back, her pig tails dancing on his face. “I’m gonna come,” she chanted. “Oh god, I’m gonna come on his fucking dick while you lick my pussy.”
The boat was a chaos of motion, wood creaking, water slapping the hull, their bodies slapping together. Julie’s relentless tongue pushed Anne over the edge. Anne’s body seized, her inner muscles clamping around Mark’s cock in a series of violent, rhythmic spasms. Her cry was long and loud, echoing in the wooden cabin. He thrust up into Anne’s convulsing heat, as Julie sat back on the bench facing them. Suddenly Anne slumped forward between her own legs, stopping her own pursuit of pleasure and pushing her plump ass against him sweaty and breathing in ragged gulps.
"You can't cum in her" Julie announced. Mark was looking at her in disbelief. She was fingering her own pussy again, slowly, watching him, dead serious. She sat back further, lifted a knee on the bench.
"Actually you can't cum at all - Humm Mark - Today you only get one final shot". Pushing her waist forward she revealed the glimmering pink gem. "In my ass Mark" she continued, her chin glistening, a look of savage, triumphant satisfaction on her face.
Anne giggled as she lift up her head. She knew all along. She didn't stop for herself, she already had an orgasm from the ride and Julie's mouth. She stopped for his sake. She extended her arm to reach for Julie. In a slow motion, she resumed moving her hips up and down, one hand on the floor, on hand on Julie's clit, jerking him off with her tight cunt. Her waist was rocking up and down with the rhythm of the boat as her fingers entered Julie.
The boat slowly steadied with their motions cooling down. The only sound on top of their heaving breath, was the mixing of the wave rocking the boats with the wet sound of the girls fingers in Julie's pussy. Mark was terrorized by what he just heard. Not that he wouldn't mind a break after two days. But he knew she would keep him up hard and denied all day. As Anne was twerking on his cock, the memories of Julie masturbating on camera for him came back, the fresh vision of her in front off him doing the same thing but still out of reach was too hard to handle.
As Anne was twerking on his cock, spooning him from behind, the memories of Julie masturbating on camera for him came back. Involuntary contractions struggling inside his gut, the fresh image he was making from this morning of her in front off him doing the same thing again but still out of reach was just the first stage of a torment that hollowed him out now. Anne’s hips kept moving, a slow, circular grind that milked him relentlessly, while her arm stretched forward. Her fingers, glistening with her own juices, found Julie’s and pushed the plug further inside, a deep, possessive invasion. Julie gasped, her spine arching off the bench, her eyes rolling back before fixing on Mark with a predatory gleam.
“You remember, don’t you?” Julie hissed, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. “All those nights. My parents’ house or my appartment. The grainy video. I’d say it… I’d whisper it into that shitty microphone.” She let her head fall back, embracing the dual sensations. “Mark, I want your dick,” she moaned, the words a perfect, filthy echo from twenty years ago, looping directly into the present. “I want to feel you in me. Take me, right there.” Each phrase was a phantom limb, a ghost of a youthful ache now made thrummingly real in this swaying cabin.
Anne emphasized the words with her body, sinking down onto him with a wet, suffocating completeness that made his vision blur. “She talked about you for an hour straight during her interview,” Anne breathed, her own voice strained with effort. “Said you had the most beautiful brain she’d ever known. But an even more beautiful cock. She wanted both all along” She punctuated the sentence with a hard, downward slam of her hips. "She said you just had one night together but she just didn’t know how to ask for it without breaking". Another one, harder "She told me when she pulled you out, that night, she gasped and her jaw dropped 'So big' she said” The confession, delivered amidst the lewd, rhythmic slapping of skin, was a brutal kind of surgery.
“I’m asking now.” Julie pulled herself up using a ceiling beam. She put a foot on their bench and with the other foot, she pushed back onto Anne chest, flattening her against Mark's. A bully foot forcing Anne to accept her. She positioned herself over their two faces, side by side, looking up to her soaked in anticipation. "Hmmm Mark, I want your dick to fill me now".
“Then take it,” Mark growled, the words scraping out of him. His wrists strained against the cold metal cuff, the railing groaning in its mount. Julie’s eyes flashed with victory. She didn’t lower herself onto him. She turned, presenting the jeweled plug glinting between her ass cheeks to his face, and lowered herself onto Anne.
Anne’s hands, slick and sure, rose to grip Julie’s ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. She pulled her down. Julie’s wet cunt met Anne’s waiting mouth with a soft sigh of contact. Anne’s tongue delved deep immediately, a hungry, probing stroke that made Julie cry out. Anne’s nose pressed against Julie’s clit as she ate her with a relentless, focused rhythm.
Beneath them, Anne kept moving. Her hips continued their slow, circular grind on Mark’s trapped cock. The dual sensation for Mark was maddening. The tight, hot clutch of Anne’s pussy milking him, combined with the violent, visual shock of Julie’s pleasure mere inches from his face. He could smell Julie’s musk, could see Anne’s throat working as she swallowed, could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of her feasting, could feel the plug from her ass on his face. Julie rode Anne’s face with increasing abandon, her hands braced on the ceiling beams. “Humm Mark, what are you waiting for, fuck me.” she commanded, her voice guttural and raw.
Anne moaned in response, the vibration against Julie’s flesh making her shudder. Anne’s hands kneaded Julie’s ass, spreading her wider, pressing her down harder against her mouth. Julie was smothering her, and Anne was devouring it, her own hips never ceasing their slow, torturous rotation on Mark’s shaft. The boat seemed to list with their concentrated weight, the water outside slapping a frantic counter-rhythm against the hull.
Mark was drowning in sensation. The visual was overwhelming, but the physical claim was absolute. Anne’s cunt was a slick, demanding fist around him. He was a tool, an anchor point in this circuit of female pleasure. Julie’s ecstasy was the focus, the engine. “I’m gonna come for you Mark” Julie panted, her words slurred.
Anne’s response was to intensify her licking, her tongue fluttering rapidly against Julie’s exposed, swollen nub. Julie’s body went rigid. A sharp, broken cry was torn from her throat, different from her earlier sounds—this was pure, unadulterated release. She ground herself down against Anne’s face, her thighs trembling violently. Mark watched, hypnotized, as the waves of her orgasm claimed her, as Anne’s throat moved in steady, gulping swallows beneath her.
As Julie’s spasms subsided, she slumped forward, breathing raggedly. Anne gently guided her off, Julie collapsing onto the bench facing them, spent and glistening. Anne, her mouth and chin slick, turned her full attention to Mark. She lifted herself off him with a final, wet slide. The sudden cold air on his wet cock was a shock. She stood up, releasing him and leaned over, her breasts brushing his chest, and put her lips to his ear.
“Your turn,” she whispered, her breath hot. “But not now. Soon.” She unfastened the cuff from the railing with a practiced click but didn’t remove it. “Bring him,” Julie said to Anne, after she already pulled her jeans back up, her movements languid, sated.
Julie took the chain between the cuffs. She stroke Mark full hard on." So big" she whispered. "So full". And Mark, still naked from the waist down, was begging her with his eyes to finish him.
Anne put back her shorts, and with her chest exposed walked up to the sun-warmed teak deck. She found her hat on the floor and tightened it back on her head. She brushes off her shirt still on her shoulder and declared: "Let's go, they are waiting".