The guy himself looked more like an Aussie to me than the various Eton-Cambridge types who I have known in my past. He was somewhere in his early 50s ...nd he looked fit and tough. Paul told me that the two of them had met in some sort of spook situation during Desert Storm and that was definitely plausible given what I was seeing. In fact this guy was somebody I found very attractive, in a “married lady” attraction way.His wife was one of those lifeless blue-bloods who clutter up the social. Evening.Just after everyone had left the office around 5:30, I made good use of my private facilities and took a good shower, shaved and put on a fresh set of casual clothes. I turned out the ugly fluorescent lighting and used the incandescent in my office to create a very nice mood, put on some good music, poured a drink from the bar and settled into the leather sofa to read some trade mags while awaiting Dori. At about 6:50, the buzzer rang, I looked out the small curtained window by my door. The rest were wide mouthed and mesmerised. What could I do but bow my head slowly and smile at them before returning my attention to you. I laughed out loud as the colour gradually returned to your cheeks. “Why didn’t you stop me?” I ask you just as soon as I’ve gulped down the wine in my glass. “Because that was the horniest fucking thing I have ever seen.” You say and I mentally conclude that it was definitely worth the moment of shame. “Does that mean I can suck your cock now? I ask though I. I didn’t know what would happen this time. I’d like it if she’d shed some clothing, but I was fairly sure she’d stay clothed. I knew from experience, however, that I genuinely enjoyed being naked on the boat. I feel a certain erotic charge out of the confluence of being nude while she’s clothed, and while sailing. I also was thrilled by the casualness of it mixed with an outright exhibitionism of it. So, with nervous excitement, I pulled off my shorts, put on a floppy, wide-brim hat and headed.