I Went Up the Catamaran Alone and Came Down Belonging to Everyone

The sun still hadn’t finished rising when I got to the dock. The morning air was still cool, but it already smelled of salt, seaweed, of summer beginning. The catamaran waited there, white and gleaming, with its canvas pulled taut and a timid bit of music drifting from half-awake speakers. I boarded with a steady step, though inside my heart was racing faster than I wanted to admit. Something in me was asking for more than a ride around the bay.

I was wearing a bronze-colored bikini that barely covered the bare minimum. The string in back disappeared between my ass cheeks, and the top’s triangle did a lousy job of containing my breasts. I felt the stares as soon as I set foot on deck: men’s stares, women’s too, some disguised and others direct, shameless. I pretended not to notice them. I played with my loose hair, with the sunglasses hanging from my neckline, with my own smile, while I accepted the first tequila shot. It went down like fire and warmed my chest. Then came the rum and cola, dark and sweet, with the ice clinking and that effect that makes you believe anything is possible.

The engine roared and the music rose with it. Reggaeton, a deep bass, the beat thudding through the floor as the boat pulled away from the harbor. The sun started to heat up, sticky on my skin damp with sea spray. Another drink, another shot, and I already felt the warmth climbing, and it wasn’t just the alcohol or the reflection off the water.

When the host shouted into the microphone for all the girls to get up and dance, I didn’t think twice. I went up with my glass in hand, the sea shining behind me and the wind tangling my hair. There were several of us, bikinis in every color, barefoot on the hot deck, laughing, letting ourselves be carried by a bass line that made even the soles of our feet vibrate.

The water-pistol guy wasted no time aiming at us. The cold jets slid over my burning skin, plastered the fabric to me like a second layer, and made me arch my back without meaning to. The music, the rum, the sun and all those looks made me feel light, bold, capable of anything.

That’s when I saw her. Tanned skin, tiny red bikini, a smile that promised trouble. She came over dancing, her hips marking the beat. First she brushed my arm. Then my waist. I laughed, thinking it was part of the game, a dance between strangers to hype up the crowd. But when her hands slid down to my ass and squeezed without shame, I understood she had nothing innocent about her.

The crowd started chanting. Whistles, shouts, glasses held high. I couldn’t hear any of that anymore. I felt her hot breath on my neck, her fingers tangled in the bikini string, her chest brushing mine. And I let myself go, moving my hips against hers, letting her do as she pleased while I noticed my own nipples hardening under the fabric.

“Relax, the day’s long,” she whispered in my ear, laughing.

The water guy soaked me again and the icy spray tore a soft moan from me, lost under the music. The entire deck was applauding as if we were a rehearsed act.

Suddenly I felt a body behind me. One of the crew, tan, tall, his torso bare and shining with sweat, pressed up against us. His erection pressed against my ass while his hands held my waist. My heart hammered in my chest, the alcohol buzzed in my veins, and the sea seemed to sway harder than usual.

The girl in the red bikini turned toward him and, as if they’d practiced it, he lifted me into his arms with a ease that stole my breath. The deck erupted. I tried to cover myself, but she was quicker: she pulled the string of my bikini aside and the sun hit me where no one had looked before.

A murmur rippled through the boat, followed by laughter. And then I felt it: her tongue. A quick, wet, shameless lick that ripped a sound from me I couldn’t swallow back.

“No, wait!” I said, though even I didn’t fully believe it.

The crowd roared. In the middle of the commotion, the top knot gave way and one of my breasts came out into the open. Not even a second passed: another guy leaned in, caught it with his mouth, and tugged at the nipple until I gasped louder.

When they finally set me down, my legs were shaking. I tried to adjust the fabric with my hands, but there was no turning back inside me anymore. I went down the stairs toward the interior lounge looking for refuge, heat burning between my thighs.

Steps followed behind me. Laughter. Stares. Guys. Girls. All of them with the same idea written in their eyes.

***

The lounge smelled of sea, rum, and sweat. The dim lights flickered with each beat of the bass, painting the space in red and gold, shadows moving with the catamaran’s sway. I felt the change in my skin: hotter, heavier, denser with desire.

I hadn’t taken two steps when soft but firm hands grabbed my waist. My back hit a padded wall and a body pressed against mine. Her breath brushed my neck before I heard her rough voice.

“Don’t hide, gorgeous,” she whispered, and her lips barely touched my ear.

My knees trembled. She didn’t wait for an answer. Her hands slid to the knot of my bikini, yanked, and undid it in one motion. The fabric slipped down my wet skin to the floor. A collective moan rolled through the lounge, but I didn’t have time to think about it: her mouth closed over my right nipple, hungry, sucking until it hurt almost too much.

I felt another presence. A second girl, shorter, knelt at my feet and began to climb slowly up my legs, her lips brushing my thigh, her hands slow and dangerous. When she reached the bottom string she pulled it aside and, without warning, her hot tongue swept over me from end to end.

“Ahhh…” The sound slipped out of me on its own, sharp, impossible to stop.

The murmur in the lounge turned to panting. I opened my eyes and realized we weren’t alone: guys and girls surrounded us, glasses in hand, lips parted, watching everything.

A male body pressed against my back. Tall, broad, hard. I felt his chest against me, his breath in my ear, and his erection pushing into my ass.

“Stay still and enjoy it,” he said in a low voice, holding my hips while his fingers slid over my belly.

The tongue between my legs grew more insistent, playing with my clit, going deeper, while I arched helplessly. My hands searched for something to brace on and found only bodies, skin, heat.

The orgasm hit without warning. Brutal, electric. My knees gave way, my back arched, and a rough cry escaped me as I shook against that mouth that wouldn’t stop.

***

They didn’t let me rest. Two girls took me by the arms and guided me to the center of the lounge, where he was waiting seated. They called him Mateo, a tall guy with brown skin and a crooked smile, with an erection that seemed impossible.

“Come,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off me.

My heart was exploding, but my legs moved on their own. I sat on him and felt him open me centimeter by centimeter until he was all the way inside. I threw my head back and a long moan filled the lounge.

Two mouths leaned over me at once. One caught my right nipple with soft teeth; the other bit the left until it made me cry out. I moved on him like my life depended on it, my hands digging into his chest, while he set the rhythm from my hips, deep, slow, devastating.

“Like that… don’t stop,” I panted, lost, while the entire lounge watched us.

The second orgasm crashed over me like a wave. I trembled, arched, and he growled beneath me, finishing with a shudder that tore another moan from me and left my nails marked into his skin.

I had barely gotten off his lap when hands turned me around. I felt the sofa behind me and, suddenly, I was on all fours, my ass up, the bikini string hanging off to one side.

The first to come over was one of the youngest, already slick at the tip. He positioned himself behind me, gripped my hips, and drove into me with a thrust that made me scream.

“Oh God…” I panted, arching my back.

The sound of his skin slamming against mine filled the lounge. Each удар was deeper, wilder. My hair stuck to my sweaty face, my moans blending with everyone else’s.

To my left, one girl was riding another’s mouth, head thrown back. In the back, two men took turns with a woman, all shining with sweat. To my right, two girls were kissing hungrily while a guy moved toward them. The whole lounge was one single breathing body.

Every scene lit me up more. Every sound, every gasp, every slap of wet skin against wet skin.

“More, more…” I begged, pushing my hips back, offering myself without a shred of shame.

One hand grabbed my hair and pulled while the guy behind me sped up, coming in and out with perfect strokes. I felt the orgasm building again, slow and hot, until it broke me apart in a shudder that left me trembling.

***

Another body took the spot behind me. Thicker, hotter. In front of me, another girl was also on all fours, taking him the same way I was. Our eyes met through tears of pleasure, we leaned in and kissed deeply, hungrily, while our bodies were being driven at the same time. Our tongues tangled, our moans mingled.

The men behind us seemed synchronized. Every thrust made us scream at once. I clung to his shoulders, she to mine, and the lounge filled with wet sounds and broken breathing. Someone finished in another corner with a cry; the smell of sex was becoming suffocating. And I didn’t want it to stop. I couldn’t. My body belonged to everyone and I wanted it that way.

Two hands guided me again, this time to the big sofa. The kissing girl came with me. They positioned us shoulder to shoulder, both of us lifted, legs open, hair falling over our faces. I felt the hot tip pressing in, and a second later the thrust filling me completely. Beside me, she was moaning just as loudly. The sofa rocked with every удар.

“More…” she panted between kisses, and I just nodded, pushing back to take it all.

The heat was unbearable. The salty taste of sweat, the filthy murmur around us, it all mixed into something that made me lose control. When the orgasm came, it came violently: I arched, dug my nails into the sofa leather, and a rough scream burst from my throat as I clenched around him.

I didn’t have time to breathe. They took me to the floor, where the catamaran’s rocking made everything seem to move beneath my body. Two men came over, one in front and one behind. I felt their hands opening me, preparing me for something I was already asking for on my own.

The first entered from the front, slow at first, deep after that. The second pressed from behind until he sank in too. I screamed, an animal sound, while my nails scraped the floor and my body arched between the two of them.

The rhythm was savage and, even so, perfect. Every thrust ripped a filthy moan from me, tears of pure pleasure streaming down my cheeks. I felt every movement, every удар. My body burned, trembled, surrendered over and over, until the last orgasm split me in two.

It was brutal. Endless. I trembled all over, my voice broke in a muffled scream, and I collapsed onto my side, exhausted, while they kept panting over me until the end.

The whole lounge smelled of sex and sweat, of rum and salt. Exhausted bodies, ragged breathing, the sea roaring outside as if applauding all that chaos.

The catamaran kept rocking gently, keeping time with my shudders. I, naked, covered in sweat and other people’s handprints, could only smile with my heart racing.

I belonged to everyone. And I loved it.