We weren’t planning to fuck anyone that day. Just get sunburnt, day-drunk, and maybe edge together in our apartment in Split while the fan wheezed above our sweat-slick bodies.
But when you travel with a fellow goonette, especially one you’ve trained yourself, you don’t plan filth. You attract it. Like bait. Like wet, panting bait.
Her name’s Pix. Nineteen, blonde, and English as they come. A porn-obsessed little brat from somewhere up north with big tits, soft everything, and a face like she’d never swear, until she’s got four fingers in her cunt and someone else’s in her mouth.
She found me on Whoreuro, of course. A long, trembling DM about edging to my posts in the back of her dad’s car, begging for guidance, for discipline, for a way out of her vanilla life.
Now she travels with me. My student. My toy. My little public-use prodigy.
Table of Contents
The Approach: Two Husbands, One Offer We Couldn’t Refuse
We were strolling along the Croatian marina in cheap dresses, tits bouncing, thighs chafing, eyes smeared in sweat and mascara. Hungover. Horny. Sun-struck. We’d barely made it to the harbour without stopping to edge behind some toilets.
”Suddenly, I wasn’t the centre of the room anymore. I was the seasoned slut watching the new girl take her first real dose of public cock. So I did what any good whore does when the spotlight starts to drift: I offered my arsehole.”
That’s when they found us, two older Croatian men, early 50s, tanned leather skin and cheap sunglasses, calling out from beside a boat like we were fresh catch at the market.
“Hey, ladies! Want private boat ride? Islands? Wine? Swimming? Adventure?”
They clocked the tits. They clocked the smirks. They knew. They didn’t care what we said; they’d already decided we were going on that boat, and so had I. I opened my bag to hand over the cash and let them see my portable vibrator and lube bottle inside as I did.
Out to Sea, Out of Control
We didn’t even pretend to be shy. Bought bottles of cheap wine at the nearest shop, clambered on board, and let them steer us into the open blue. Fuck me, it was beautiful!
Pix was already sweating through her dress. No knickers, obviously. I caught the younger one staring at her inner thighs while she fake-dozed on a sun cushion, her tits rising and falling under a scrap of linen. I leaned over to the older one, handed him the bottle, and said:
“She gets very friendly when she drinks.”
His smile? Wolfish.
After an hour, we stopped by an empty cove with nobody in sight; just rock, sea, and the blazing sun.
Pix looked at me. I nodded once. She stood, undressed slowly, and dove in completely naked. Her pale body sliced through the water, her big tits bobbing like bait, her arse glinting just beneath the surface.
The air changed. Thickened. The boat rocked. The younger man shifted uncomfortably. The older one openly adjusted his cock under his shorts. I sauntered to the front deck and stretched out like a smug madam, pulled the straps of my dress down, and let my tits bake in the sun.
I could feel the older Croatian guy lingering behind me and watching me with lust in his eyes. “She gets very excited in the water,” I said, acknowledging he was there. “Especially when she’s being watched.”
Frenzy on the Fibreglass
It started with fingers grazing my thigh. Then a hand in my hair. Then, suddenly, Pix was laughing loudly while being hauled up from the sea by the younger one, water cascading down her soft belly as he shoved her face into his crotch.
No words. Just animal need.
I was already on my back, dress bunched up, legs spread wide as the older one mounted me like I was territory. His cock was thick, salty, ravenous. No condom. No questions. Just spit, a grunt, and a slow, brutal stretch that made me moan so loud birds scattered from the cliffs.
Pix was gagging already. Crying and drooling and giggling, trying to suck and jerk and breathe at the same time while her fat little body trembled against the deck.
They swapped us. I mounted the younger one, grinding my clit into his pubic bone while he sucked my tits like he’d been starved for a decade. Pix got bent over the edge of the boat, arse in the air, hair in the sea, while the older one fucked her like she was a fucking curse.
There’s something about the heat. The sun cooking our skin. The glare off the water. It frenzied us. We fucked like wild things. Bit. Scratched. Moaned like sirens. There was no pretending. No seduction. Just raw, panting, pornographic surrender.
I kissed Pix between thrusts. Licked salt off her nipples. Swapped spit and cum and wine. I watched her get filled and filled and filled, tears streaking down her cheeks, her porn-fuelled eyes glazed in submission.
“Thank her,” I told the men.
They did. With their mouths. With their cocks. With their hands gripping her soft, soaked flesh like it belonged to them. And for that hour? It did.
Tight Competition
I was on my back, legs parted, still feeling the last sloppy thrusts leaking out of me when I looked up and saw Pix getting absolutely pounded over the railing, face pressed to the deck, arse high, hands gripping the wet wood like she was riding out a storm.
The older one was behind her, soaked in sweat, thrusting hard enough that the boat actually rocked beneath them.
He groaned something in Croatian, but the words didn’t matter. His face said everything: worship, disbelief, possession.
I crawled closer, grinning, and shouted over the wind, “I bet your wife isn’t as tight as her, is she?”
He didn’t even blink. Just barked back, “No. She’s not.” And kept going. That hit me harder than I expected.
Pix was younger, plumper, untouched in all the ways I wasn’t. She was still new. Still tight. Still pure, even while her arse jiggled under the weight of a stranger’s cock. And he felt that. Worshipped it.
Suddenly, I wasn’t the centre of the room anymore. I was the seasoned slut watching the new girl take her first real dose of public cock. So I did what any good whore does when the spotlight starts to drift: I offered my arsehole.
I turned around, got on all fours beside them, spread my cheeks, and looked the other boatman straight in the eye.
“Let’s see if she can do this, shall we?”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. I was already well used, loose, open from years of sauna floors and cinema booth gloryholes, but nothing lights a fire in you like needing to prove you’re still the star fuck.
He pushed in deep. Brutal. No hesitation. No lube beyond sweat and seawater. I cried out loud enough to startle a flock of gulls off a nearby rock. My face smashed into the deck. My ego leaked out of me with every thrust.
Pix looked over her shoulder mid-fuck and grinned at me, Croatian cock still buried in her sloppy cunt, mascara running down her cheeks.
“You okay back there, Cath?”
Bitch. I moaned through gritted teeth.
“Just making sure I stay competitive.”
We came in sync minutes later; I with a scream, she with a gasp, both of us being emptied like public bins. And in that moment, I loved her. And I hated her.
The Return: Red-Faced and Raw
We got back to Split marina at sunset, hair tangled, thighs sticky, dresses damp with salt and sex. We looked like we’d been wrecked in every way. They kissed us both on the cheeks and asked if we were free tomorrow.
Pix could barely speak.
I said, “We’ll see how sore she is.”
Back in the flat, we drank straight from the bottle, edged through a brutal PMV loop I made for her, and she came so hard she blacked out for ten seconds on the tile. As her cunt gushed, it pushed out the sperm of those sleazy fuckers on the boat. It was just as beautiful as the sea we’d been playing around in.
When she woke up, she whispered:
“That was better than I ever fantasised.”
I smiled. “It’s only day two, sweetheart.”
Hey, 19yr old and every time I read your articles it makes me so wet I have to get my holes filled I get so motivated by you cathy, would love it if you could goon me to your male and female friends, been absolutely craving you for 2 years now
Hi daisy I’m always horny to
get a room