The night was illuminated by a half-moon and a sky full of stars, so we could see pretty clearly. A warm, tropical breeze drifted lazily across the placid, inky surface of the water far down below. Krystal gripped my hand and covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle. I pressed a finger to my lips in warning, and we both stared at the lovers plumbing each other's sexual depths on the extreme edge of the giant ship.

The man I recognized as being one of the 'Captain's Assistants' who, during the day, were constantly asking us if we needed anything when we already had everything. He was a young guy, maybe twenty years old. The woman I also recognized - she was the First Officer. She had a good twenty-five years seniority on her deck hand, but that seemed of little importance now. Their uniforms were strewn all over the place, and the man was banging the mature babe in the stern like she was a kettle drum in the officers' lounge band.

She clung gamely to the railing, her upper body extending out over the deep, blue ocean, her big tits flapping around like the wings of an irate seagull.

She reminded me of one of those carved figures on the bowsprit of a 17th century sailing ship, minus the splinters. The smack, smack of the guy's body against the woman's big, bouncy ass was sharp and tangy in the soft, silent, night air, and I noticed that his cock was snugly stowed away in her pretty ass. Not her pussy, her ass.

I smiled when I felt Krystal's hot little hand slip out of mine and grab onto the upright anchor that was billowing my canvas shorts. The late-night flesh-dance by our salty crew had obviously gotten to her. She rubbed my roiling hard-on like she was swabbing the deck, so I quickly skinned my skivvies down to my ankles and let her really get a handle on my harpoon.

She gripped my arrow-straight, seven-inch spar and rapidly stroked it in time to the anal-plundering taking place right in front of us.

The guy battening down his boss's rear hatch had a lean, hard body - the tan, hairless body of a sea-monkey recently turned seaman - while his lover with the stuffed torpedo tube glistened white and soft in the moonlight, her slim, curvy body top-heavy with ballast. Her long, blonde tresses weren't tucked underneath a naval officer's cap anymore, but flowed down her back like shimmering seaweed on a mermaid.

As Krystal polished my plank with a practiced hand, her eyes glued to the carnal cruise fireworks, I took the opportunity to dive-bomb the back of her shorts with my hand, and quickly gaffed her big, bare, bold ass.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

I pinched her soft bottom to keep her quiet, but the two crewmates were too enthralled with their sexual deck chores to notice her, anyway. My hand sailed all over Krystal's round mounds, and then I sounded a finger down in between her plump ass cheeks. She leaned forward slightly, giving me better access to her rump, and I slipped my digit into her cute little starfish. I penetrated her porthole with my index finger and began pushing in and out of her tight opening. She saluted my handiwork by flailing away on my mast with ever-increasing speed, my balls starting to boil with semen as she buffed my binnacle.

All of a sudden, sailor boy threw back his head and let out a bellow that bounced off the coastline twenty knots to starboard, and his body spasmed with erupting orgasm. He was buffeted over and over and over again as he bailed white-hot cum into his lover's stretched-out hold. The shapely officer was ass-blasted to ecstasy by her cabin boy's joy, and she clutched at her huge tits with one hand as she hung on to the railing with the other, their mutual orgasms almost propelling the both of them head-over-ass into the briny depths below.

It was all too much for this land-lover, and I finger-fucked Krystal's ass furiously as she jerked thick ropes of gooey jism out of my spurting piss-cannon. I came as the sexed-up seafarers came, spraying salty semen all over the deck like a whale sprays water out of his blowhole. Krystal gave me the open-air hand-job of my life. And we never took our spying eyes off the ship-shape butt-buddies as they grappled with each other in the throes of sexual overload, he still grimly hammering away at her tight little bilge-hole.