My cucky hubby and I – he was already ‘unable’ due to his testicle operation – had been on a combined business and holiday excursion in Lisbon (Portugal). We stayed at our beloved Sheraton hotel downtown. In the evening at the bar, we met two guys from England who came in with their sailing yacht after a stormy crossing through the Bay of Biscay.
My husband, as a former navy officer and deep-sea sailor, got into conversation with them. We were asked if we could be of help to sail their yacht to Gibraltar, because one of them had to fly back to London for urgent business meetings and it was impossible to sail a 20m yacht with one hand.
We were offered the hotel costs on Gibraltar and also the flight fare back to Lisbon. My husband agreed, but I refused, for the weather forecast en route to Gibraltar was evil and I mostly suffered from seasickness if it gets too strong.
Therefore, my hubby got a rental car for me and I started my journey through Portugal when the yacht slipped the lines and set sail. Until then everything was ‘paletti’. We had arranged to meet at the ‘Eden Rock’ hotel in Gibraltar two days later. Well, I enjoyed the trip and after passing the Portugal-Spain border I arrived in La Linea (a small town and port in Spain) opposite Gibraltar.
But then the genie was out of the bottle: Namely – what I didn’t know – the Spanish border towards Gibraltar was closed for political reasons. Due to the never-ending struggle between Spain and England because of Gibraltar. There was no alternative; I had to drive back to Algeciras, the Spanish city on the other side of the Bay. What madness! A few miles away were the lights of Gibraltar, and I had to take a Spanish Ferry to Tangier and then a British ferry back to Gibraltar, my real destination. So what!
I got rid of the rental car, took a taxi to the harbor and tried to board the Moroccan ferry. This was easier said than done for I needed a valid visa for Morocco which I didn’t have in my passport. What now?
There was a group of American tourists in front of the gangway. I managed to join them and smuggle myself in without the bloody visa and without a ticket for the fare. Meanwhile, the ship was en route. I found an officer and explained my situation. Well, to cut this story short: When he saw me, he examined my breasts, my legs and so on, he was immediately keen on me and offered me his cabin when I, in return, promised to spent the night with him with all the pleasures like eating, drinking and lovemaking.
In addition, he told me that I would run in trouble in Morocco without a visa and that I could wind up in jail or – even worse – in an Arabian cathouse until totally worn out and destroyed by local guys with big cocks.
Holy mackerel, I had no choice and agreed, not knowing whether it was real or fake. I promised to stay in the cabin during the passage and he took my luggage and ushered me into his quarters. He showed up after our arrival in Tangier, about half an hour later with a few sandwiches and we had a few stiff drinks from his cooler in his cabin. Then he demanded his payment.
We both undressed and I could see his huge cock and what I was to expect. He had me sit on a big leather chair, unzipped his pants, took out his huge chocolate brown cock, took my head and forced his cock into my mouth. It was so big that I could hardly clasp my fingers around his shaft and take the throbbing head in my mouth.
After he reached his first climax, he shot a full load of hot cum in my mouth and had me swallow it. Then he threw me on the couch, took both of my ankles in his hands and spread my legs. His fully erect member groped its way into my now wet pussy and with one wild stroke he impaled me to the base and fucked the hell out of me. He was a repeater and screwed me several times.
It was about midnight when the door of his cabin opened and another guy came in. It proved to be the purser. The two officers were talking in an Arabic language and eventually decided to fuck me sandwich-style. It was, by the way, the first time in my life that I was taken anally. I moaned and shrieked like a stuck pig, but no chance to stop them, not that I wanted to. Both guys fucked me without mercy and one of them finally shot his seed into my virgin asshole.
They fucked me till morning. At about 8 o’clock my friendly host gave me my passport, took my luggage and brought me to the British ferry moored at the same pier. I arrived in Gibraltar on shaky legs and a sore pussy. I hired a taxi to our hotel. My hubby wasn’t there yet, but he had phoned from his yacht and announced a few hours delay due to bad weather conditions.
It gave me time to recover. My god, what a journey. But ever since, I have been an addict for ass fucking!
