Among the factors distinguishing our society from others less complex has always been the high proportion of reformers to be found among us. No sooner do we create a system, a machine, an organism, than we must improve it, eliminate its faults, amend it to conform better with the changing structure of its environment. The anarchy of primitive man is replaced by the paternalism of the feudal system; the xenophobia of tribal castes eventually gives way to universal franchise and integration; the abacus develops into the computer; the Tin Lizzie evolves into the Cadillac. But the process itself too often beats within it the seeds of its own destruction: the horticulturist who metamorphoses the wild briar into the hybrid tea rose has to contend with the contrary forces of nature.
The pioneer in this field must forever be looking over his shoulder lest his work be menaced by the mutant among the carefully planned genes, the rogue male in the herd.
Especially is this true of the reformers in our own time, for unlike their predecessors they postulate the broader, rather than the narrower view; the permissive rather than the restrictive and ascetic approach. The chances of "something going wrong" are thus proportionately increased as the spectrum of accepted change widens. And the danger inherent in the syndrome is this: that such destructive elements are self-propagating while those of o more benign temper continually hove to be renewed from without. The old simile of the rotten apple in-the barrel is not inapposite, for the perverting effects of one degenerate in o climate of sexual permissiveness, however timely and well-intentioned its beginnings, could conceivably snowball in such o way that the whole of society would find itself threatened.
We are grateful to Author Grant Roberts for his challenging illustration of this somber theme in this forthright and penetrating novel. With masterly insight, he shows how the young American couple, Robert and Joanna Grant, themselves unaware, their marriage in need of the brooder horizons that only the new freedoms con bring, react when they encounter one such "rotten apple." Len Bonner and his wife Harriet are rich, bored, and degenerate. When their evil talents combine with those of the rascally steward Alfred Maddon aboard the cruise ship Arcadia, the combination is hard to withstand.
The Grants, typical enough of thousands of decent young Americans, are inhibited and immature. Through the Bonners they become aware of -- and come-to terms with -- the deeper sexual drives hidden within them. On o superficial level they are better off. But there is, however, the price to pay: their standards, stuffy perhaps but undeniably "correct," hove become debased to the level of the Bonners. Through the agency of Len Bonner, their futures seem assured, but they hove lost their innocence. Worse, in illustration of our thesis, they are about to spread the disreputable gospel according to Len Bonner. . and there is no guarantee that those whom they contaminate will not themselves disseminate the bad seed on ground more fertile still!
-The Publisher
Chapter One
Joanna Grant gazed at the reflection of her breasts in the stateroom mirror. They were full, firm and high-set. Standing naked as she was in front of the make-up shelf, the thin strip of glass screwed to the paneled wall showed her only the image of her body from shoulder to waist. But the close-up view served to emphasize the taut, voluptuous outlines of her most photogenic feature and the wide separation between them. She stared a few seconds more at the twin mounds of ripely swelling flesh and the rose-pink nipples at their tips, and then she stepped across the cabin and opened the closet door beyond the bed.
In the full-length minor fixed to its inner side, she could see the whole of herself: the slender, tapering legs, the flat curve of her belly with its triangle of fair pubic hair, the soft hollow of her waist, her head with the blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders . . . and of course those breasts. Her face wasn't bad, she supposed, with its wide blue eyes, straight nose and generous mouth. But it wasn't for that that she was so much in demand by the advertising agencies in Southern California: it was the contours she gave to sweaters and shirts and swimsuits that made her one of the most popular photographic models in the state.
Joanna cupped her hands under her breasts and scrutinized them again. She was lucky --- no matter what she did, they never lost their firmness or their shape. People had tried to persuade her to pose for different kinds of pictures, of course. Girlie magazines and calendars for tired businessmen. But she wasn't going to allow her body to be lusted over by every lecher on the coast. Bob would never stand for it anyway.
They had only been married a year, and he was already getting uptight about her posing for photographers at all. But his salary as a commercial artist just wasn't enough to support them both. They were still a long way off the deposit they needed for that dream house in the plush Hollywood suburb they had decided on, So for the moment Joanna was still working. As soon as he was earning enough, though, her husband had warned her, it had to stop.
Bob was just great. He was tall, dark and athletic. He couldn't be more tender or considerate. Just occasionally though, she thought wistfully, running the palms of her hands over the swell of her hips -- she wished he was a little more . . . well, adventurous . . . in bed. Last night, for instance, if he had just gone on a little longer, or tried something a little different . . .
She sighed, her eyes looking still at the reflection in the mirror, noting the pink nipples that had suddenly become stiff and erect. Her fingers moved slowly across the smooth curve of her belly, brushing against the soft hairs mantling her pussy. As the familiar electric sensation tingled through her loins, she glanced momentarily over her shoulder at the bed. Could she do it now? Was there time before . . .?
No. She was due on deck in five minutes to partner Bob in the third round of the deck-tennis tournament. And Bob was a stickler for punctuality. It would be too awful if he came down to look for her and found her like that!
Closing the closet door, she pulled open a drawer and took out bikini panties, a white ribbed cotton shirt, and a pair of white leather hot-pants. But which brassiere should she wear? The thin shirt clung to her like a second skin: should she play safe and put on the boned lace one that held her so firmly, or dare she try the new lightweight sling brassiere she had bought in New York before the cruise -- the one with the points cut away so that her nipples poked through?
For a moment she hesitated. There were always rows of older passengers sitting in deck chairs watching the games. She knew the men among them watched with lustful eyes -- and the women tutted disapprovingly -- every time a girl appeared in anything remotely revealing.
And then suddenly she shrugged. What the hell! Why should she care what a lot of dirty old men thought . . . or their dried up, frustrated wives?
But supposing Bob thought the brassiere was -- what would he call it? -- immodest! He'd been excited enough when she tried it on in the hotel room, but he might not be so happy for other men to see the exciting effect.
She tossed d her head. He told her often enough that she had a lovely body: she was 22 years old, and if he expected her to hide it, that was just his bad luck!
Rummaging in the drawer, she found the new brassiere and shrugged into it, reaching up behind her back to snap the fastener and then pinching the tips of her breasts through the gaps in the cups so that the thin garment fitted snugly against her voluptuously swelling curves. The touch of her fingers erected the nipples again, and the twin points showed clearly against the ribbed material of the shirt when she pulled it on.
Never mind, she mused. If people wanted to think dirty thoughts, that was their business! Drawing the tight leather hot pants up over her shapely thighs and hips, she thrust her feet into a pair of sneakers and hurried out of the cabin.
On the games deck ten minutes later, Len Bonner turned to his wife and said softly: "Jeez, honey! Would you look at the tits on that kid!"
Harriet Bonner shifted her own well-upholstered body in the deck chair and stretched her long brown legs in the sun. She had known ever since the S. S. Arcadia had passed through the Straits of Gibraltar that Len was interested in Joanna Grant and her husband. The cruise had been her idea. Len was a big wheel in advertising back home in California, and the pressures of business were exhausting, but she had finally persuaded him that he must take a vacation or crack up. Now that they were in the Eastern Mediterranean and nearing the return leg of their voyage, however, he was becoming bored. The Bonnets were leading lights in a wife-swap syndicate in Beverly Hills and Len missed the excitement and the challenge that this provided.
Harriet shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun and squinted sideways at her husband. He was leaning forward in the low canvas chair, his eyes riveted on the nubile figure of Joanna Grant as she capered to and fro behind the shoulder-high deck-tennis net. "Just dig them bouncing tits, honey!" he breathed again. "Man, I wouldn't mind wading barefoot through that little lot!"
His wife smiled indulgently. "If you could only make first base, lover," she said teasingly, "I'm not saying I wouldn't play. The boy's got a good body: he could interest me if he wasn't so Goddamn square.
Len scowled as Bob Grant retrieved an impossible return and skimmed the quoit back over the net to win a point. "That punk!" he grunted. "Why, I bet he hasn't got two cents to rub together. If you ask me, his old man -- or hers -- coughed up the loot to pay for this trip. Yet he acts as though he knew it all! Toffee-nosed kids like that make me puke!"
Harriet smiled again. "That's my boy!" she said. She knew the sign's. Len was a self-made man. He had worked his way up from messenger boy through copywriter to account executive -- and now that he was director of one of the biggest advertising agencies on the Coast. He found it hard to swallow the airs and graces of these college boys who thought they could get in half way up the ladder. He had been angry when the Grants had cold-shouldered his back-slapping attempts to make friends at the beginning of the cruise, and so he was determined to break them down now, whatever the cost.
That was what she liked about her husband, Harriet reflected, eyeing his powerful shoulders and lean body: Len was a fighter and he never gave up. She let her gaze rove languidly over his intent figure . . . the outthrust head with its determined chin, the deep chest and muscled thighs stretching the thin material of his sharkskin pants, the strong, tanned hands with their blue-veined backs.
She was pretty lucky on the whole, she thought. They had been married nearly ten yearn. She was 32 and he was 37, and they had the perfect relationship. He was a boisterous drinking man, crude and ribald, coarse and sometimes brutal with his women, laying whoever he could get wherever he could get her -- a typical super-salesman, in fact. But he looked after her well. And if he had his own sexual adventures on the side, at least he allowed her to do the same. Nothing was barred providing each partner told the other all about it. It was probably this which made their marriage more exciting than anything else -- and since neither of them let their affairs progress beyond the physical stage, it drew them closer together than ever. Len was pretty good in bed, too. She shivered reminiscently, remembering his hands on her body the previous night.
The quoit landed on the deck near her feet, and Joanna Grant bent down to pick it up. A tiny curl of blonde pubic hair protruded from the legband of the leather hot pants stretched tightly over the rounded cheeks on her buttocks. "You know what," Len murmured as he watched her run back onto the court, "I'll bet she isn't even wearing a bra under that top!" He fingered a fat cigar from a crocodile case and stuck it between his lips, watching the gentle bouncing of Joanna's breasts under the light cotton as she spring-heeled back to the baseline, caught a hot serve low down, and lobbed the rubber ring gently back over the net to confound her opponents and win another point.
"Don't you believe it," Harriet said comfortably. "With tits that big she has to have a bra. Nobody's got a figure that good! She probably picked up one of those sexy sling affairs that leave the nipples free. Say -- maybe that's an idea at that! With one of those and no panties, I could have my fun without having to undress, even on a stuffy cruise ship like this!"
Len wasn't listening. He was staring fascinated at the moving network of creases wrinkling the taut leather of Joanna's hot pants where they plunged between the tight spheres of her buttocks. Man, he thought to himself again, I'd give a whole stack of greenbacks to get me a basinful of that stuff! And he was sure he could do it, if it wasn't for that punk of a husband. He'd gotten himself quite a friendly smile from the girl back in the bar at lunchtime, when he'd made some damn fool crack as he ordered his drinks. But the kid had cut him out, moved her coolly away down the bar to talk with some highfalutin' East Coast slickers who owned a place in Bermuda and drank nothing but sherry.
Sherry! he thought disgustedly, scowling at Bob Grant as the boy flicked his wrist and sent an ace service spinning over the net. That was all they were fit to drink, these college kids! Show `em a man's drink and they folded up after the third round!
He knew the type too well. He'd seen hundreds like this punk, fresh in the big, bad world of business and knowing it all. He could spot them a mile off, with their button-down shirts and their Ivy League suits, their carefully cultivated Boston accents and their hair just long enough to be fashionable. They hadn't had to fight to get ahead the way he had. Their parents had put them through school and then conned some business friend into giving them a break, and now they thought they could run the world. Well, he'd learned a thing or two about life and living that would make their longhair toes curl! They figured they'd change everything with their endless demonstrations against this and that setup that they hadn't enough experience to understand. Maybe he didn't understand these things too well either -- but he sure knew about people. And one of the things he knew best was that there was nothing people wouldn't do, given the right circumstances. By God, he'd make certain those circumstances were right for the couple he was watching now!
It would be a change from the old wife-swap routine they'd gotten into back home, a genuine seduction. It was always fun taking a couple, especially an innocent, prim young couple like this. You chatted them up and you fed them liquor; you played on their childish notions of freedom and you worked on their vanity, easing them into a social life that they thought was modern and liberal -- and then suddenly, before they knew what was happening, they were watching each other get screwed silly by someone they hardly knew!
This little doll in the white leather pants was really something, though; and apart from the fact that he really wanted to give it to her, he'd enjoy seeing the expression on that young punk's prissy face the first time he saw his wife getting a fuck thrown to her by some other man! It would be great to bring him down a peg or two. But it might take a little more work and planning than some of them did; things might need . . . well, fixing a little. Len grinned to himself in anticipation. He was a good fixer.
He turned and looked at his own wife. Harriet was staring out over the sea. Beyond the shimmering blue of the Mediterranean, a dark smudge on the horizon marked the coastline of Israel. In 24 hours the Arcadia would be stopping off at Iskenderun. After that it was Istanbul, Pieracus, Naples, and Cannes before they headed for the Atlantic and home. There was plenty of time and the weather was good. Len always found that helped.
He studied his wife's profile. She'd worn pretty well, he figured, since he'd picked her out of a nightclub in downtown San Francisco where she'd acted as a hat check girl and sold cigarettes from a tray slung around her naked shoulders. The wings of dark hair drawn back into the chignon at the nape of her slender neck were still glossy and soft. Her sensually full lips still held the promise of infinite delight. And the swelling mounds of her breasts thrusting up the thin flowered material of her blouse as she lay in the deck chair were as full and firm as they ever were. When it came to the crunch, Len thought, he didn't have much to complain of: really there was nobody like Harriet. Especially in bed.
He looked up suddenly as a patter of applause echoed around the games deck. Bob and Joanna Grant had won their match. As the couple, flushed and smiling, walked off the court with their arms around one another's shoulders, Len flashed them a friendly grin and called out: "Congratulations! You two sure showed them how it should be done!"
Joanna looked up into her husband's eyes and then smiled at Len. "Why thank you," she said. "We enjoyed the pine." Bob Grant nodded coolly and moved her away towards a group of passengers waiting for them near the companionway leading down to "B" Deck.
Harriet yawned and stretched her arms above her head, tilting her breasts provocatively as she stretched out in the deck chair. "I guess I'll go on down and get ready for dinner," she said. "you coming, lover?"
Her husband shook his head. "Think I'll stick around for awhile," he said. `There's - uh . . . a couple things I'd like to attend to, and there's still a half hour or so of sunlight, so maybe I should --"
"Okay, okay," Harriet interrupted with a conspiratorial smile. `I get it. Like gentlemen prefer blondes! Just play it cool, baby, that's all."
"Now see here Harriet . . ." Len began. But his wife had waved her hand and gone. He shrugged and strolled up towards the group of passengers clustered around the far end of the deck-tennis court, flicking a gold lighter and holding the flame to his still unlit cigar as he went.
The Grants were just breaking away from their admiring friends as the advertising man approached. Behind them a ventilator cast a long bar of shadow across the deck in the setting sun.
"Like I say, "Len Bonner opened breezily, "that was a great game you two played! In fact I think this calls for a celebration. How's about joining me for a drink down in the saloon?" He blew out a cloud of cigar smoke and fanned it away from his face with one hand.
"Well that's real kind of you . . ." Joanna Grant started to say, but her husband cut her short. "Nice of you, Bonner," he said curtly, "but I'm afraid we already promised to have an aperitif with someone else. Another time perhaps."
"Sure, Bob," Len said easily. "Some other time." But the muscles around his mouth and nose, as he turned away to flick the ash from his cigar, were pinched and white with anger.
Alfred Maddon soft-footed down the passageway on the starboard side of "B" Deck humming quietly to himself. There were twelve staterooms in his section to attend to, including the Bonners' and the Grants', and part of his duties as cabin steward was to turn down the beds before he retired to his galley to await the inevitable calls for drinks, fresh towels and soap, and other attentions demanded by the passengers as they dressed for dinner.
Maddon was a Cockney, a lithe, tanned man with a lined face and rogue's eyes glinting above the hairline mustache on his upper lip. He had been working the Arcadia for five years now, and there was little he didn't know about passengers and their wants -- or how to turn these to his own advantage.
He knew where the most risqu' nightclubs were at every port of call. He could advise on the best curio shops and souvenir stalls; he would give introductions to the floorwalkers at the better stores and he had an in with cab drivers and even customs men. Exotic restaurants and worthwhile sightseeing tours were his specialty . . . and he received a kickback from every one of them.
He radiated a cocky, confident assurance and there was a certain charm and animal virility about him that made him especially successful with unattached female passengers -- and sometimes attached ones as well. Maddon was a man, in fact, with fingers in many pies, most of them lucrative. Among other sidelines he smuggled contraband ashore and on board -- and he was not above a spot of gentle blackmail to swell his own private treasury if his conquests happened to have money.
He paused now outside the door of Stateroom 12 and straightened his white mess jacket. He had done half a dozen cabins and there were still six more to attend to before he was free to go back to the galley and watch for the call-lights flickering on his indicator board. This one wouldn't take him a minute: he had seen the Bonners sitting out on the games deck twenty minutes ago, and there was no point in turning over their stuff before they came back. Len Dormer was far too much of a tightwad to leave any dollar bills lying around in his dresser drawer. Maddon turned the handle and went in.
Walking straight across to the far side of the stateroom, he pulled the curtains across the porthole, turned around, and froze.
Mrs. Bonner was lying on the bed in a filmy negligee, an open book face downwards on the covers by her outstretched hand. Her dark hair was undone and spread around her head on the pillow in a soft cloud. Above the loosely tied belt the voluptuous swelling of her breasts showed through the opened "vee" of the garment. Maddon caught his breath. He could see that she was wearing nothing underneath it. Two dark circles of flesh around the upthrust nipples and a shadow of pubic hair below the smooth curve of her belly were clearly visible through the semi-transparent material.
"Oh," he stammered. "I . . . I . . . I beg pardon, ma'am. I didn't realize you was here. Sorry, I'm sure. I'll come back later."
"That's all right, Alfred," Harriet said lazily, looking up at him from under her long lashes. "Do you want to do the bed? Would you like me to move?" She shifted her body slightly on the wide bunk, causing the tantalizingly mounded breasts to quiver beneath the folds of diaphanous material. The open "vee" at the top of the robe gaped wider, revealing more of the tender curves swelling upwards and outwards towards Harriet's still-covered nipples. At one side, a half moon of darkly puckered skin slid lasciviously into view.
The steward swallowed. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the deep cleft between those seductively rounded mounds of flesh. "N-n-no thanks," he mumbled. "That's quite all right,
Mrs. Bonnet. I'll come back later when you're . . . when you're dressed."
Harriet smiled. "Would you rather see me dressed, Alfred?" she asked softly. "Or do you prefer me like this?" She moved one of her long tapered legs and the two halves of the flimsy garment fell apart below the waist, exposing a smoothly sculptured thigh.
Maddon didn't quite know what to say. He was familiar enough with the scene, it was no news to him to be alone in a cabin before dinner with a sex-starved woman. Why, only last night he'd stuffed it up that 20-year-old redhead in B-9 whose parents seemed to think she was still in third grade. A piece of cake, that had been! But there was usually a very good reason why his conquests didn't have a man: either they were old, or they were ugly, or they were inexperienced. A well-stacked dish like this brunette on the bunk -- that was something else! Sexy pieces like that -- and, God, she was a sexy looking bitch all right! -- didn't lie too thick on the pound in the world of Alfred Maddon.
This one was lying right here on the bed, though. And -- surely he couldn't be mistaken? -- she was giving him the old come-on as clearly ever he'd got the green light! He could see practically the whole of those luscious breasts. Every curve of her belly was visible through that filmy nightdress thing. And -- yes! -- there was a tiny curl of pubic hair showing where it had fallen open at the top of her thigh.
But what could her angle be? Why would a woman like that be propositioning him? Was that great bull of a husband a secret fairy? Or was it just that she was a nympho and he couldn't give her enough? Mentally, the steward shrugged. He should worry? If it was being offered to him on a plate, he'd take it -- with both hands!
"I think you're very beautiful, Mrs. Bonner," he said boldly. "Dressed or undressed."
"Why that's mighty nice of you, Alfred," Harriet said softly. "And mighty flattering too. But then of course you haven't seen me undressed, have you?"
Not yet I haven't, Maddon thought to himself. But it won't belong now, will it? Under the tight gabardine of his pants, he felt his penis flex and then jerk slightly as it lengthened and stiffened into erection. And I know where that's going to be in a few minutes too, he thought. But all he said aloud was: "No, ma'am, of course I haven't."
Harriet reached back over her head for a pack of cigarettes lying on a shelf behind the bunk. The movement lifted one of her breasts so that the tautly swelling mound thrust away the thin material of the negligee and now he could see, in the shadow under the edge of the garment, the whole dark circle of the aureole and the bud-like nipple at its center. The still little button of flesh was tantalizingly hard and erect.
The voluptuous brunette tapped a cigarette from the pack and put it between her lips. "Do you have a light on you?" she drawled.
Maddon fished a Ronson from the pocket of his white mess jacket and thumbed it into flame. As he leaned forward, Harriet rolled over onto one elbow and guided the hand holding the lighter towards the end of the cigarette with her fingertips. Her coolly exciting touch on his skin sent flickers of desire racing through the Cockney's veins. Deep down in his testicles he felt the familiar ache begin, and the pressure on his burgeoning cock was becoming unbearable.
"Thank you," Harriet said, blowing a lungfull of smoke towards him and watching him quizzically through its gently wreathing layers. "Tell me, Alfred," she went on conversationally . . . "would you like to see me undressed?" One of her breasts was completely naked now, lewdly and obscenely exposed to his lustful gaze.
"You know I would," the steward replied hoarsely.
Harriet smiled demurely and pulled the edges of the negligee together. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a most interesting face yourself?" she asked. She was staring deliberately and openly at the tightly bulging crotch of his dark mess pants. Beneath the hem of the white jacket, a spreading patch of moisture gleamed darker still against the out-thrust material.
Maddon said nothing. For a moment there was no sound in the cabin but the distant pounding of the Arcadia's engines as she steamed northwards into the gathering dusk.
"Well, have they?" the American girl insisted.
"Yes, ma'am . . . I mean no, ma `am."
Harriet laughed. "If they haven't, it's time they did! You're a very attractive man, Alfred"
"Thank you, ma'am."
She was still staring at the growing patch on his pants marking the progress of the wetly seeping head of his expanding penis. "My, you're well stacked in there!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you?"
"I don't know, ma'am" the steward said woodenly.
"You don't know?"
Maddon decided that the time was ripe. It was now or never. He'd take the risk and jump in with both feet. His manner became at once less deferential and more assured. "Well I mean, it's not for me to say, is it?" he replied.
Harriet transferred her gaze to his face and raised her eyebrows.
"I mean to say," the Cockney pursued, "it's the kind of thing you have to find out for yourself, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's the kind of thing I have to find out for myself, is it?" the brunette repeated, her sensuous lips twisting into a slow smile.
"Course it is. Matter of personal opinion. You want to find out for yourself? Would you like to have a look"" Maddon leered.
Harriet sat up suddenly on the bunk and swung her legs to the floor. "Yes," she said briskly. "I would. Take out your cock and let me have a look!"
For a fraction of a second the steward's eyes opened wide with astonishment. He hadn't expected it would be this easy. Then his hands dived for his pants. In a moment he had unzipped his fly and dragged aside his shirt and shorts.
Len Bonner's wife stifled a cry of surprise as Maddon's massively upstanding cock sprang free of the confining garments. She bad known from the size of the bulge at his crotch that he must be well endowed -- but she was not prepared for anything like this! The thick, fleshy rod stood out from the sparse and wiry hairs of his loins like the trunk of a giant tree. Above the pulsating veins marbling the sides of its quivering shaft, the purplish, blood-engorged head was emerging from the foreskin like a slavering animal in search of its prey. From the wetly glistening slit at its bulbous tip, a tiny thread of clear seminal fluid swayed downwards on its way to the carpet beneath the bed. Harriet licked her lips in lewd anticipation. "I said you were a good-looking man," she murmured breathlessly, reaching across and stubbing out her cigarette in an ashtray on the shelf.
She leaned forward from her position at the edge of the bed, crooning softly with obscene pleasure as she stretched out her hands towards the steward's gently bobbing penis. Plunging her left hand into the gaping fly of his pants, she felt for the soft hair-covered pouch of his testicles and eased it out into the air as she seized his cock in the fingers of her other hand.
The steward was already grasping his rigidly extended rod of flesh between the fingers and thumb of his right hand. As Harriet's cool fingertips brushed seductively against his own over the blood-knotted veins on the shaft, he threw back his head and uttered a strangled cry.
He could feel her breath playing warmly over the sensitive cock-head. The moist tender flesh was pulsing wildly as though a separate heart beat within its blood-swollen tip. Grinding his teeth, Maddon arched his aching loins and thrust himself nearer her lewdly pursed lips.
Abruptly, the voluptuous brunette lowered her face a fraction and began to kiss the satiny skin of the huge bulbous head. The steward jerked involuntarily at the searing contact of her mouth. More blood surged into the iron-hard shaft, inflating it to even greater hardness as she sucked and nibbled moistly at the sensitive flesh.
She curled her fingers and thumb around the hotly pulsating member, massaging the loose foreskin up and down its rigid length until the warm droplets of male pre-cum seeping from its tip had moistened the whole of Maddon's throbbing cock.
"Ooooooooh!" he groaned, twitching convulsively beneath her expert touch. "That's so goooooood!"
For a moment Harriet withdrew her dark head and gazed in lewd fascination at the wetly gleaming rod she was holding. And then, cradling the steward's balls in one hand, she guided the pulsing tip with the other, and her honey-soft mouth came down over the smooth rubbery head, her ovalled lips enclosing the sensitive flesh with scalding moistness.
Maddon moaned in ecstasy. His cock jerked massively in her mouth and the tingling ache in his balls increased until it was almost unbearable. He took his own fingers away from his penis and put the palms of both trembling hands on the top of Harriet's head as she began to suck at his wildly throbbing rod.
Inside her mouth, she flicked her tongue, twirling it in licking circles around the madly pulsing glans, probing with the tip at the tiny slit that now gaped widely in the blood-engorged head.
The Cockney steward was in a trance of sensual enjoyment. The very thought of what this beautiful American passenger was doing to him, the lewd salaciousness of the act itself, aroused him erotically almost as much as the actual sensations she produced with her lips and tongue. Gasping aloud with the intensity of his emotion, he pressed his hands hard down on the crown of her head, forcing the thick pole of flesh forward into her slavering mouth.
Tensing his loins as he thrust, he could feel his cock plunge deeper and deeper into the back of her throat. As he looked down, he saw with rising excitement that almost the whole glistening length of it had disappeared between Harriet's tightly locked lips.
She could feel the bulbous cock-head sliding wetly along the length of her tongue now, the tiny droplets of seminal fluid oozing from the tip filling the warm cavern of her mouth with their pungent masculine taste. Slowly, she began a steady rhythmic movement of her head up and down on him. Maddon groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair to guide her slavishly bobbing head as it pistoned back and forth along his gleaming rod. In all of his experience he had never before enjoyed such intense sexual gratification as this, and he abandoned himself to the lewd ministrations of the brunette's voraciously sucking mouth.
He felt an increase in the speed of her moving head and in the pressure exerted on him by her lips, which seemed to make his pulsating cock expanded to an even greater hardness. Her tongue was still swirling in a caressing lick of his painfully sensitive cock-head on every outstroke.
Blimey! he thought to himself. This is it! This is the bleedin' works, this is! And aloud he moaned: "Go on . . . go on . . . faster! Suck it harder, darlin'. Oh, you darling . . . Ooooooh!"
Cradling his soft smooth testicles gently between her two hands, Harriet grazed her fingernails tantalizingly over the lust-inflated flesh.
Maddon squirmed with licentious desire and began a slow undulation of his hips beside the bed, his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth with a lewd wet sluicing sound. His fingers clenched more tightly in her long dark hair as he forced her head down on him, and a triumphant grin spread over his artful face as he looked down again and saw the rigidly glistening shaft of his cock ramming brutally into her contorted face. As he thrust himself ever more forcefully into her mouth and throat, he watched in fascination as a little of the soft pink flesh from the inside of the brunette's lips was pulled out on each of the upstrokes and then stuffed back into her mouth as she absorbed him on the downstrokes. Her cheeks were hollowing in and out as she sucked hungrily on his now angry red rod of flesh -- Christ, but it was good! He wanted it to go on forever . . . but as the thought came to him he knew it wouldn't, couldn't; already he could feel the trembling, searing birth of his approaching orgasm.
Incoherent, strangling sounds forced themselves out from far down in his throat. He could feel the wave beginning to surge up from deep in his loins. Soon he would shoot his load, spurting his streaming white sperm full into Harriet Bonner's greedily working throat. The sweet agony of the pent-up sensations within him seemed to concentrate in the lust-bloated head of his rigid cock. He could feel it pulsing -- expanding and inflating even more with every throbbing jerk as her maddeningly expert tongue caressed it on every single stroke.
With lust-dimmed eyes, the ship steward stared at the face of the half naked woman working over him. She seemed to be in a sexual rapture all of her own, with her eyes closed and her breath laboring through flared nostrils. Then, as he looked beyond, down past the gaping edges of the negligee beneath which her firmly rounded breasts were dancing lewdly, he saw that one of her hands was now working rhythmically at the darkly hair-covered triangle of her own loins.
God! he thought. She's finger-fucking herself while she sucks me! If she's as crazy to cum as that, why don't we make a twosome of it? I'm only getting half the perishing fun standing here and I could do with a basinful of that hot little pussy she's got down there!
But it was now or never: if her lasciviously clinging lips continued their madly exciting travel up and down his bursting cock, he'd cum himself at any moment! He must stop himself . . . now . . . ! before it was too late and he spurted his scalding load into her throat. More than anything else in the world he wanted to go down on that seething pussy and stuff his tongue up into her cunt!
Clenching his teeth, the lust-inflamed steward acted. Pushing Harriet's head violently away from him, he drew back his hips with a sharp jerking motion and withdrew his huge, pulsating cock from between her lips.
The gleaming cudgel sprang free with an obscene wet sucking sound and stood thickly erect above his sperm-bloated balls, --still joined to her glistening lips with a swaying thread of saliva. For a moment she stared wide-eyed at its pulsating length, now scarlet and throbbing from the ministrations of her lips and tongue . . . and then, before she could utter a word, Maddon had seized her shoulders and thrust her roughly back on the bed.
With an inarticulate cry of passion, he ripped the flimsy negligee from her voluptuous body and threw himself face downwards across the swelling curves of softly pulsing female flesh on the cabin bunk.
Planting his knees on either side of her shoulders, he grasped the insides of her sensuously rounded thighs and wrenched them wide apart as he sank his head towards the dark triangle of curling pubic hair at her loins, and the layered pink edges of the moist vaginal slit at its center.
Almost instinctively, Harriet reached for the massive cock swaying obscenely above her passion-contorted face and guided its lust-bloated head back towards her mouth. As her lips closed hungrily over the seeping tip, Maddon groaned in ecstasy and ground his hips savagely down on her so that the whole rigid length of his throbbing shaft plunged straight into her throat.
Half suffocated by the stifling weight of his body, Harriet gave a muffled groan and squirmed frenziedly beneath him. His shoulders crushed her pelvis hard down onto the bunk, her stomach was squashed by his chest, her voluptuous breasts were pressed flat by his belly, and her nose was thrust up into the soft hairiness of his scrotal sac. Gasping for breath, she eased the palms of her hands under his hips and levered him slightly upwards so that the rough cloth of his pants was lifted from her face and the iron-hard shaft of his penis withdrew a little from her lewdly stretched lips. Even then, the thick rubbery cock-head was grinding against the back of her throat and her jaws were forced so widely apart that she could scarcely breathe. Straining to lift his weight still farther, she began trying to curl her tongue around the quivering rod of flesh that was filling her mouth.
At the same time, the Cockney steward raised himself slightly on his elbows and moved his hands to the swollen, hair-lined lips of her cunt. His fingers hooked into the desire-moistened folds of the hotly throbbing slit, splaying them wide apart to reveal the trembling inner flesh of Harriet's pussy and the swollen little bud of her clitoris nestling inside.
The American girl shivered, clasping her mouth more firmly still around the rigid mass of Maddon's cock. And then, with an animal-like groan of passion, he had buried his face between her legs.
She jerked and trembled as he flicked out his tongue, licking gently at the smooth wet flesh creased within the narrow slit of her vagina. Dropping his mouth to the wide-stretched entrance to her cunt, he sucked and nibbled at the hotly throbbing bud of her clitoris, pressing his thumbs up into her cuntal flesh and pulling his fingers farther apart so that the hair-fringed slit gaped wider still. Then he traced a lewd path with his tongue up and down the entire length of the hot moist furrow, probing obscenely the secret hidden crevice up between her thighs. Harriet gasped aloud around the gagging weight of his penis, a slave to the wild sensations whirling excitedly through her blood.
She arched her hips up off the bunk, crushing her softly trembling belly into his chest as he sucked furiously at her widespread cunt, spearing his tongue far down into the ridged and seeping depths of her vagina.
At that same time the lusty brunette began a steady rhythmic movement with her hands, forcing the steward's hips up and away from her, and then letting them down again so that the blood-engorged rod of flesh piercing his open fly plunged in and out of her slavering mouth and the mouth itself became a second hotly clinging cunt.
Maddon slid his hands around the outside of her thighs and cupped them under the smoothly rounded globes of her buttocks, pulling her seething joins tighter into his face. He nipped gently with his teeth into the soft fleshy folds surrounding her just-ravaged cunt, reveling in the muffled squeals it brought from under his thrashing pelvis. He was suddenly enjoying the power he possessed over the voluptuous brunette and redoubled his efforts to display his complete domination over her every breath. His tongue slavered on and on into the moistness of her loins, increasing little by little in speed and depth until he had brought her to the point of absolute subjugation to the whims of his madly sucking lips.
Faster and faster they flailed together on the bed -- the steward's pistoning cock fucking wildly into her contorted mouth as the girl's hips thrust frenziedly up against his face, skewering her cunt up onto his spearing tongue.
Suddenly Maddon's forehead was glistening with tiny droplets of perspiration. He could feel the remorseless pressure mounting deep in his sperm-bloated balls. He knew it couldn't be long now. His cock felt like a balloon blown up to its tightest stretch . . . and then inflated agonizingly still further, ready to explode at any moment and spew its life-giving contents to the ends of the universe. He hurled his loins savagely against Harriet's face, ignoring her protesting mumble as he strove for the final release of this unbearable tension that was mounting . . . mounting . . . mounting . . . and then abruptly every fiber of his being quivered and all his sensations drained away to his loins as he felt the white-hot current surge deep in his swollen testicles and race steam-like the length of his madly plunging cock.
He uttered a strangled cry into the hotly slavering lips of Harriet's pussy as his penis began a furious staccato jerking that flooded her avidly sucking mouth with squirt after scalding squirt of thick male cum, bloating her cheeks with each jack-hammer spurt until she had to swallow to keep from choking, gasping and mewling through gagged lips at his insanely thrusting loins.
And then suddenly, sucking frantically as he went on shooting his lust-incited sperm far back into her slender throat, the brunette tensed her body all over. The muscles of her belly began to quiver and the cords of her neck tightened in the unmistakable signs of a coming orgasm.
Wrenching her semen-filled mouth away from Maddon's now softening cock, she bared her teeth and gave a shuddering cry.
"Aaaaaaaagh! I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum! I'm . . . I'm cuuuuuming! Euuuugh!"
Her head thrashed wildly beneath his passive hips, and her eyes rolled in unseeing passion. Her loins arched up off the bed and began to quake convulsively as her hands darted to the ship steward's pumping head, forcing his mouth still harder down on her flaming cunt.
Pulling him in maniacal frenzy deeper and deeper into her obscenely splayed loins, she felt her orgasmic secretions flow wetly out around his still spearing tongue, streaming down the narrow crease of her buttocks and stickily flooding his fingers as they clenched in the trembling flesh of her writhing ass-cheeks.
The deep bray of the Arcadia's siren shivered the evening air as Harriet continued to groan out her soul-shattering climax, the juices still flowing in galvanic spurts down the full quivering cheeks of her buttocks.
And then, as Maddon slowly withdrew his head and laid it wetly on her thigh, the two spent bodies collapsed inertly on the bunk and for a time there was no sound in the cabin but the gasping of breath as they strove to recover from the shattering effects of their lust. Maddon stared unseeingly at the pearls of moisture threaded on the limp hairs fringing the inflamed pink flesh of Harriet's pussy. The girl lay with her eyes closed, her face upturned between his thighs, her softly mounded breasts rising and falling beneath the crushing weight of his hips. A lewd dribble of sperm oozed from the side of her mouth, coursed down her cheek, and fell with the tiniest of sounds to the coverlet below.
The silence was broken by the sound of solitary applause.
Clapping his hands together, Len Bonner sauntered out from behind the half-open bathroom door, an unlit cigar clamped between his ginning lips.
Dragging a chair out from beneath the make-up shelf, he straddled the seat and sat down with his arms folded across the back. "That was -- uh -- a most satisfying performance," he said amiably. "Maybe when you get your breath back we could talk About it a little . . . ."
Chapter Two
Alfred Maddon pushed himself up on to his hands and knees and scrambled guiltily from the bunk as he stuffed his now limp wet penis back into his open fly and zippered up his pants. His dark hair was tousled and his face was flushed. For once the crafty steward was at a loss for words.
"I . . . I . . . I didn't . . . he stammered. "Mr. Bonner, I'd no idea you were . . . that is, I didn't mean . . ."
"That's all right, Alfred," Len Bonnet said genially. "It was a great show. I enjoyed it." He produced the gold lighter and set fire to his cigar. "It's just too bad that it happened to be with a passenger's wife, that's all," he added.
Maddon stared at him. "I'm not quite sure that I . . . he began. "I mean, I thought you said --"
Bonnet puffed out a lungfull of smoke and gazed at him levelly through the blue cloud. "I mean," he sad quietly, "that I always dig seeing an expert at work. I really go for that. But it just so happens that I don't fancy seeing my wife screwed silly by a cabin steward."
"I didn't screw her," Maddon said sullenly. "You know that."
"Ah, come on. Let's not -- shall we say? -- split hairs," Len said with a chuckle at his own joke. "You were laying her, is all. Just where you put your prick and what you had your tongue stuffed up is a matter of detail. The point is, you forced yourself on a female passenger and made her submit to your sexual demands. Depraved sexual demands, I guess the captain would say."
"You heard. The captain. And sure I would. A man has a right to expect that his wife can rest up in her cabin unmolested on a luxury cruise like this, for God's sakes! I never heard of such a thing!"
"But-but-but," the dumbfounded steward shuttered, "but you know bloody well it wasn't like that! Christ -- you were right there behind that bleedin' door! You saw it all!"
"All I know," Len Bonner said calmly, "is I come straight into my bathroom through the door that leads to the corridor outside and when I walk into the cabin, I see my wife struggling on the bed underneath some maniac who has his fly open and his cock out." He glanced across at the bunk and added: "With her clothes torn to shreds for good measure."
"But it wasn't like that!" Maddon raved.
"What d'you mean, forced myself on her? What are you talkin' about? If anyone made demands it was her! She begged me! Ask her yourself . . . go on ask her!" He swung around accusingly and flung out his hand towards the girl on the bunk.
Harriet was sitting up now, the tattered remnants of her negligee wrapped across her swelling breasts, her head modestly bowed. "I'm sorry, Len," she said in a small voice. "I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong for me.
"Too strong!" the steward shouted angrily. "She practically swallowed me! She asked me to show her my prick and then she . . . Why, you fuckin' bitch," he seethed, turning on the girl, "I ought to bash your bleedin' face in! You cheap little . . ."
"All, right, all right," Len cut in. "Let's not add threats and menaces to rape, eh? As to what happened, I guess we should let the captain decide."
"There you go again!" the steward stormed. "The captain! Do you really think he'd believe all that stuff?"
"I don't see why not. There's two of us, for one thing. Paying customers at that. And a ripped negligee. And I guess there may have been complaints before, judging from what I've seen of you."
"You want I should scream, Len?" Harriet asked demurely. "We could set this whole scene a few minutes forward if you liked. It would kinda give it an extra flavor of drama, don't you think?"
Maddon stared from one to the other of them. He was breathing heavily and his fingers were clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I don't get it," he said hoarsely. "What's your angle? I don't get the play! What good would it do you to fix a frame-up like that?"
"I don't know what you mean by frame-up, Alfred," Len said. "You want to add slander to your other crimes?"
"You couldn't make that stick either."
Len rose to his feet. "Let's have the captain decide, eh?" He made as though to move towards the door.
"What do you get out of it?" the steward repeated furiously. "Okay, so you can fix it so it looks like I raped your wife. So I get fired maybe. But I don't see the point. What's in it for you? What's the percentage playing peeping-tom on your wife in the first place? Is that the way you get your kicks maybe? Are you kinky or something? Are you some kind of a faggot?"
Len had paused by the door. He turned and smiled enigmatically. He said nothing.
The steward sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll buy it. There's some kind of a catch in it, obviously. You can't have fixed this kind of a setup for nothing. As you Yanks say -- what's the pitch?"
Bonner walked back to the chair and sat down again. "That's better" he said. "Now wait'll I tell you. Here's the pitch, as you say. I catch you forcing yourself on my wife . . ." He raised a hand as the Englishman was about to interrupt, and went on: "By rights I ought to report you to your superior officers. But it just so happens you may be able to do a little service for me."
"Ah!" The steward nodded. This was a language he understood. "Here it comes! What do you want me to do?"
"And if you decide to help me out," Len continued smoothly, "I might -- I just might -- forget all about this unfortunate little incident tonight. And my wife might be persuaded to forget it too."
Maddon laughed. "I'll say she might! Okay -you fixed it fine and now you got me by the short and curlies. Both of you. So what do I do?"
Bonner swung around and tipped the ash from his cigar carefully into an ashtray on the make-up shelf. "sit down, Alfred," he said, gesturing towards the bunk. Glancing dubiously at Harriet, the steward lowered himself gingerly to the rumpled bed covers and stared expectantly at her husband. His world had been turned upside down. Making the girl had been a piece of cake. Far easier than he had expected. He had been hoping to put the screws on her a little afterwards. The bedridden mother in Liverpool, and the urgently needed operation for which his pay was inadequate, would have been one routine. Or perhaps the old one about the kid with polio -- Americans were suckers for that kind of thing. Maybe he could even have tried on that chestnut about wanting to put a talented son through college. Or simply asked for money if she didn't want her husband to know that she had -- ha-ha! -- transgressed. Whichever he chose, it would have had to be delicately played. But he could have done it.
But now he found the shoe was on the other foot. For once, he himself was on the receiving end! Not only had the bastard husband been in on the deal, he had proved himself a shrewder operator than Maddon himself. He held all the cards and now it was up to the steward to take his medicine. Okay, he would take it -- but his turn would come later, he thought viciously, staring at Len Bonner through half-closed eyes.
"I been watching you ever since we stopped off at Tangier on the outward journey," Bonner said conversationally. "I'd say you have an interesting life here on board, Alfred."
Maddon said nothing.
"There's the briberies," Len continued pleasantly, "the little bits of smuggling, the kickbacks from night spots and restaurants, the odds and ends you pick up from people's cabins when they're having meals . . ."
"Ere, what are you insinuatin' ?" Maddon protested, but the American raised his hand again and went on: . . . to say nothing of all those broads you lay and pitch a hard luck story to afterwards. That little redhead down the hallway, last night, for instance."
"You can't prove nothing," the steward said sullenly.
"I've a tape recording right here in this cabin says I can. You sure took a hell of a time serving that kid her tomato juice before dinner!"
"I don't believe you," Maddon said hoarsely. "You couldn't have a tape of that!"
"Didn't you ever hear of that attachment for recording phone conversations? You just stick a mike in a suction cup on the base of the instrument and everything on the wire goes down on that tape. It works just as well on a door . . . or a cabin porthole, for example."
The Cockney stared at him, open mouthed.
"But never mind all that," Len continued . . . "it's something else I want to talk about tonight. I noticed you smuggled aboard a certain package when we called at Tangier."
"So what?" Maddon said uneasily. His fingers were nervously pleating and unpleating a corner of the blanket.
"So I believe -- Tangier being what it is -- that this package probably contained a quantity of hash."
"Hash?"
"Yeah, hash. Grass, pot, hashish, call it what you will. It's still spelled m-a-r-i-j-u-a-n-a. And I guess the penalties for pushing it are pretty severe wherever you peddle it."
"I don't know what you mean," Maddon blustered.
"My guess is that you take on a load of grass at one or two main ports of call -- and then sell it off in small quantities to connections at the other stopover points, whenever you go ashore. You must have worked up quite a nice little business there, Alfred!"
"So what if I have? Just because I happen to oblige a few friends, do I have to . . ."
"There aren't too many places you can pick it up, though," Bonner interrupted.. "Tangier is one. But you must have got shot of most of that in Port Said and Haifa. I followed you to a dozen different joints in each of those dumps."
"I suppose you think you're clever," the steward sneered.
"Clever enough to realize that you're due to pick up another consignment any day . . . like when we call at Iskenderun tomorrow."
"Say, where the hell is Iskenderun anyway?" Harriet put in suddenly. "I never heard of the place."
"It used to be called Alexandretta," her husband explained. "It's a one-horse town, but it happens to be at the end of one of the main caravan routes bringing hash -- and other drugs -- from Persia and Afghanistan. It's in Turkey, not far from Adana."
"Oh, you!" Harriet said petulantly. "You know everything!"
"Well, Alfred?" Len demanded. "Do you pick up some more there -- or don't you?"
"What if I do?" the steward asked suspiciously. "You want me to fix you up with a few joints, is that it?"
Len shook his head smiling. "Never touch the stuff. And if I did, I wouldn't need to come to you.
"You want to cut yourself in on the deal? There isn't enough in it for two, I swear. By the time I've paid off my contacts and dropped the customs boys, there's hardly a cent to spare, honest."
"I'm not trying to horn in on your business,"
Bonner said. "Like I told you, I just want you to do me a little service, that's all." "Well, I'm listening."
"First off -- are you or aren't you picking up some stuff in Iskenderun?"
The steward gazed at him warily, "Suppose I am?" he said cautiously.
"Okay. So you are. Do you know the Grants? young American couple with a stateroom just along the corridor?"
"`Course I do. They're in my section."
"Right. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Grant will be going ashore tomorrow. All you have to do is make up a small package of hash and hide it somehow in Mrs. Grant's purse just before she comes back aboard."
"Hide a package of hash in her bag?" Maddon echoed. "Look, I tell you I can't afford to -- For Christ's sake!" Len interrupted angrily. "You'll get it back! I don't want your fuckin' grass. I told you already! I just want you to fix it so she brings it aboard without knowing it, that's all."
Maddon's face suddenly cleared. All at once he was on familiar ground. "Oh, I get it!" he exclaimed. "It's another frame. You want the stuff planted on her so she'll smuggle it aboard unknowingly . . . and then you can walk on in and discover it -- and you'll have a hold on her, too!"
"Now we're getting some place!" Len said. "Can't say I blame you," The steward said, with a sidelong glance at Harriet. "She's a smashing bird all right!"
Len got up and patted him on the shoulder.
"Think you can fix it, Alfred?"
"Course I can. Piece of cake . . . just you leave it to me, Mr. Bonner."
"That's my boy," Len said. "You do that, and I might even give you back that tape! In the meantime, how's about fixing us a couple of dry martinis? If you bring `em back quick enough, seeing Mrs. Bonner is kinda prepared, you might be in time to catch the second show and see how it should be done!"
Maddon jumped to his feet as the two men exchanged meaning glances. "Yes sir, Mr. Bonner," he said. "Right away, sir. I'll be with you in just one minute . . . Harriet giggled as the steward left the cabin. "Len, you are awful!" she said. "Just how long were you behind that bathroom door anyway?" Her husband grinned as he stripped off his shirt. "Long enough," he said. "Now move over on that bed, honey, and let a real man in. C'rnon now, get hustlin'. . . don't forget we got guests coming!"
The brunette stared at him with her torn negligee half off her shoulders. "You don't mean . . . ? You aren't really going to let him watch us, are you?"
"Why not, baby?" Len rasped down his zipper and stepped out of his pants. "You heard the dialogue. Alfred and me, we're partners, ain't we?"
He moved across to the bunk, his long thick penis lengthening and rising until it stood up ramrod stiff, with the glistening, bulbous head emerging from the sheath of foreskin around the rigid shaft.
"Mmmmmmm!" Harriet crooned. "I like!" Looking up at the muscled thighs, the iron-gray hair curling between the nipples on his chest, the wetly seeping cock with its sperm-bloated pouch of testicles beneath, she thought for the thousandth time: this is my man! However many others I have and enjoy, when it comes right down to it, there's nobody like my Len! Seizing the hot throbbing cudgel of flesh with one hand, she spread her legs and parted the warm moist lips of her cunt with the other as she drew him down on top of her.
Len groaned in anticipation as he allowed her to plunge the lust-inflated rod smoothly up into the clinging warmth of her pussy. Crushing down on to her voluptuously swelling breasts, he began driving his cock up into her belly with savage thrusts as the steward's knuckles rapped on the outside of the door.
Beneath his plunging body, Harriet turned her head and giggled, "Come on in," she called throatily. "The waiter's fine!"
Chapter Three
Joanna Grant opened her eyes and rolled over on to her back. The early morning sun was slanting in through a crack in the curtains masking the porthole; probing the gloom of the cabin and striking fugitive gleams from the sequins decorating the neck of the cocktail dress -- now thrown carelessly over the back of a chair -- that she had worn last night. She allowed herself to waken gradually, stretching luxuriously between the soft sheets as the stateroom assembled itself in the dim half light. One by one she became aware of the sounds and sensations around her: the distant pulse of the Arcadia's turbines, the lazy rise and fall of the bunk as the ship rode the Mediterranean swell, the quiet, even breathing of her young husband beside her, a subdued clatter from the far end of the companionway as Alfred Maddon prepared the early morning tea and coffee trays.
Soon the steward would be rapping on their door with black coffee and orange juice. He was an odd man, Joanna reflected, attractive in a creepy way too -- but there was something about him that made her nervous. It was his eyes, she thought. They almost made you feel . . . yes That was it! -- as though he were undressing you in his mind! She was always glad to have Bob near her when Maddon was around. She was glad to have Bob near her anyway. She loved him very much and they had a lot of fun together. Yesterday had been great. They had spent the morning in the pool, kidding about with some other young folks. It had been nice, too, to win another round of the deck-tennis tournament. It made her feel good to see Bob's athletic figure darting about the court, and proud that she was his wife. It was too bad that he had gotten a little drunk after dinner.
There had been a ship's concert and they had all gathered afterwards in the saloon for a nightcap. It was a merry party . . . they had been drinking champagne with their dinner; now, after the performance, a couple of brandies raised their spirits still farther.
Then, just as they were about to go to bed, the Bonners had joined the group and insisted on buying another round. Joanna had wanted to leave after that, but Bob had mulishly urged her to stay. He wasn't going to be patronized by any jumped-up ad man, he said. He'd damned well stay until it was his turn again and see the thing out!
He'd gotten more and more tipsy, falling into a sullen silence after Len Bonner had made some quite innocent remark about younger men not favoring hard liquor as much as their fathers had. And when they had at last staggered to bed they'd had some stupid dispute that almost ended in a quarrel -- just because the Bonners had invited them to make up a party and go ashore today and Bob hadn't wanted to go. Finally he had started to make love . . . and then fallen asleep on her!
Joanna sighed, turning her blonde head on the pillow. It was too bad Bob wasn't a little more . . . flexible.
It was true, as he said, that the Bonners weren't their kind of people. Perhaps they were a bit ostentatious and uncultured. But even if Mrs. Bonner was a trifle flashy with her gold lame dress and her plunging necklines, she seemed a nice warm person. Certainly she had been most pleasant last night.
As for her husband, he might be coarse and bumptious as Bob said, but surely it was shortsighted -- especially in their position -- to ignore the fact that he was a very important man back home in California! He could certainly be of great use to Joanna, heading one of the biggest advertising agencies on the Coast. And he could put a lot of work Bob's way too, if only Bob weren't so stiff-necked about wanting to do it all on his own. Why, for God's sakes then, had Bob seemed to go out of his way to offend Mr. Bonner? There were two or three occasions, not long before they'd gone to bed, when he had been downright rude!
Joanna sighed again, turning onto her side. Although it was a lot of fun, marriage could be real difficult, too, sometimes!
The finger of sunlight had moved away from the chair. Now it was silvering the mirror above the make-up shelf, casting a wavering reflection on the cabin wall. But why should it be moving like that? She guessed it must be something to do with the motion of the sea. The motion of the ocean! She liked that! Smiling to herself, she let her eyes wander from the crescent of brightness dancing on the white paneling . . . and then tensed suddenly as she found herself staring straight into the open brown eyes of her husband. She'd thought he had been still asleep, but he had been watching her secretly all the time! It was a good thing he couldn't read her thoughts!
The flesh beneath the stubble blurring his upper lips and chin creased open and his white teeth gleamed in a smile. "Hey, baby!" he said lazily. "I guess I must have passed out on you last night. I must have been stinking!"
"You can say that again!" Joanna said severely. "You were terrible!"
"Ah, c'mon honey -- don't be mad! I'm sorry, really I am," Bob Grant cajoled. He turned to face her and Joanna suddenly drew in her breath as she felt the hem of her nightdress ride up to her hips and his fingers came into startling contact with her naked flesh. An electrifying shock rippled through her loins as she felt him stroke gently up towards the tender flesh of her sensitive inner thighs. A moment later he raised himself on one elbow and leaned across her to cup the full mound of one breast through the thin material of her flimsy nightgown.
"Bob . . . ?" she murmured questioningly. "Surely you can't be . . ."
He grinned at her in the dim light of the stateroom. "Can't be what? Can't be getting hot pants for you this early in the morning? Just try me!"
Removing his fingers from her thighs, he reached for one of her hands under the bed clothes and guided it over toward his own loins. She felt the hard rubbery head of his penis nosing wetly against her palm. As the heated shaft grazed rigidly against her, she gasped and said: "But darling we can't . . . not now! The steward will be bringing our coffee at any moment . . ."
"He can wait," Bob said tersely. "We'll tell him to come back later." He moved the palm of his hand softly over the ripely shifting mound of her breast, teasing the thin material of the nightdress against the nipple so that the tender bud of flesh hardened and stood up stiffly erect under his exciting caress. At the same time he released his wife's hand and began to stroke her thigh again. She uttered a small moan of pleasure as the tip of one roving finger found the narrow sensitive slit of her vagina, hesitated, and then gently thrust into it. Her hips arched involuntarily up from the mattress as the lewdly probing finger parted the soft blonde pubic hair and made sudden delicious contact with the quivering button of her clitoris.
It was already wet and slippery from the unexpected and unbidden desire that now coursed through her veins, and she sucked in her breath to hold back the groan of helpless ecstasy she felt building deep in her rapidly heaving chest.
Bob shifted the hand he held on her breast slipping the fingers inside the low neck of her nightgown to roll and tweak the erected nipple as he massaged the whole hair-lined slit of her pussy with the other. Tantalizingly, he caressed the throbbing inner flanges of her cunt, circling his middle finger around the swelling head of her clitoris as she squirmed and writhed beneath him.
Almost unconsciously, her own fingers clasped themselves around the hardened shaft of his cock, roiling the loose sheath of the foreskin slowly up and down the desire-engorged rod of flesh.
"God that feels good!" Bob panted. "Oooooooh, darling! Oh, Joanna!"
Suddenly he moved again. Raising his head, he took his hand away from her breast, reached behind him, and tore the covers off the bed. Then, dragging the length of his body up over her until he was staring directly into her passion-widened eyes, he eased his hips across her pelvis so that her fingers, and the hot rigidity of his penis within them, were jammed in the -- narrow crease of her thigh.
His cock felt enormous this morning, as though her slender fingers could only just meet around the ridged, sinewy hardness of the throbbing shaft. The bulbous head was now pressed wetly in her clenched hand, seeping its warm seminal fluid between her fingers to glide lasciviously across her naked belly. Automatically, she smoothed the viscous moisture around the glans, into the stretched folds of the foreskin and up and down the long, blue-veined member until the whole lust-stiffened length of it was as slippery as a well-oiled piston.
Above her, Bob groaned softly and crushed his mouth down on her open lips, plunging the heated wetness of his tongue deep into Joanna's throat. He forced his hands down between her shoulders and the mattress and ran them over the soft pliant curves of her back and hips, feeling the raised ridges of her spine oscillate almost imperceptibly as she undulated her voluptuous body up against him in a dazed hypnotic motion. Like the legs of a puppet pulled on invisible wires, her thighs spread of their own accord and he sank in between them, feeling the tautness of the tendons firm against the outside of his hips. He knew how they would feel later, when he had buried the excruciating hardness of his cock deep in her quivering white belly.
He shoved his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her buttocks in the palms of his hands and pulling her willingly opened loins up tighter against him. Slowly, he moved up and down, sliding his lubricated shaft in and out of her clutching fingers, feeling it grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. Warm trickles of moisture coursed along down the sensitive skin of his balls to mingle with the dampness of her now impatiently waiting cunt.
Joanna's buttocks began a more urgent rotating movement, grinding hotly against his loins -- and then suddenly her legs, snaking out wide on either side of him, locked him to her. Her heels hooked over the backs of his knees and her calves pinioned his shuddering thighs, pulling him tighter up against her.
"Ooooooooh, Bob! Do it to me now, darling!
Put it in now!" she gasped into his open mouth, her eyes tightly shut and her pelvis writhing uncontrollably.
Moaning with desire, her husband began to shift his hips, dragging a hand out from under her writhing ass cheeks to reach for his wetly throbbing penis. But Joanna was too quick for him, thrusting the slippery shaft across her belly and rolling the rigid cock of male flesh toward her aching cuntal opening. Their fingers met stickily around the iron-hard member, sending wild shivers of excitement surging through each of them as together they guided the pulsating cock-head between the lips of her lust-moistened cunt. Bob panted heavily as he felt her teasing it up and down between her legs, grazing it damply against the drenched hairs of her vagina, forcing the blood-engorged cudgel into even greater hardness until it pounded unbearably from the agonizing pressure within the veins.
He couldn't hold back another second. Ramming his hips forward with a sudden cruel thrust, he drove the tip of his cock with a flesh-splitting surge into the widespread mouth of her pussy.
"Aaaaaaaaagh!" she whimpered beneath him as he felt the wide elastic-like sheath slide wetly over his sensitive naked flesh. "Ooooooh!"
He lunged farther and she moaned again. "Aaaaaagh!"
Then Bob levered himself up on his hands over his lovely blonde wife to give greater purchasing power to his loins and thrust again. The relentlessly invading rod drove inward another inch.
"Ooooooooh! Ohhhhh, darling!"
And another excruciating inch . . . "Ah, Bob darling! Aaaaaaalh!"
And then abruptly it stopped. His swollen cock had bored into her cunt, tight and hot at first, aching the full length of his rigidly pulsing shaft, then more easily as the wetness of the passage lubricated the way; now the huge rubbery head nosed jarringly against the tender hardness of her cervix as his sperm-inflated balls slapped wetly into the wide-split crevice of her buttocks.
Joanna gave a low animal cry. She was skewered good and her husband lay for a moment with his penis imbedded to the hilt in her moistly clasping vagina, waiting for the shock of his entry to subside. Then, far up in her soft white belly, he flexed the blood-filled cock-head, and she groaned, her teeth clenching behind her drawn back lips. He flexed once more . . . and Joanna groaned again, more soothingly this time as her thickly invaded vagina grew accustomed to the alien length within it.
The young commercial artist began a slow revolving motion of his pelvis, grinding his massive cock firmly into her naked cuntal flesh, expanding the ridged and gasping walls of her vagina until they fitted the pulsating shaft like a warm, tight fitting glove. She squirmed from side to side as she strained under her husband's weight, arching her loins up, lifting them both momentarily off the bunk. Mewling ceaselessly beneath his pounding body, she began to open and close her legs around his hips as she thrust upwards to meet him on every spearing plunge.
Her mouth gaped wide, and her blonde hair flailed from side to side on the pillow in wild abandon. As he drove his cock rhythmically into the lust-heated wetness of her vagina, a stream of warm moisture ran down the widespread cuntal crevice to saturate his fingers where they still held her hair-fringed pussy-lips wide for his flesh-splitting attack.
Bob sensed his cock growing and expanding still farther inside her until it felt as though it would burst from the exquisite pleasure mounting in his balls as they slapped wetly against her buttocks below. It wouldn't be long now he hoped. He knew he could do it this time. He had to! He had got to hold back until she had cum!
He began ramming it into her with long hard strokes, striving to excite her to completion. Their bodies were steamy with perspiration as they ground frenziedly into each other. Her swelling breasts rose and fell voluptuously under his pounding chest; their bellies slapped nakedly together in the airless cabin; their thighs were gliding one over the other as easily as the greased shaft of his penis raging in and out of her seething cuntal passage.
He could tell she was near her climax as she gripped him with her ankles and knees, opening and closing them around him in lewd rhythm with his long hard thrusts into her wetly clasping pussy. She gurgled softly beneath him, the sounds bubbling up from deep in her throat as though she had no conscious control over them. He knew it couldn't be long now and he continued the merciless thrusting up between her legs with all his strength.
"Aaaaaaah! Do it to me, darling! Do it to me hard!" Joanna chanted, spurring her young husband on with the pounding of her heels high on his muscular back. She had jackknifed her legs up high, pulling her knees back savagely towards her shoulders to offer him the widest opening of her upraised loins. Her body was white-hot. She clasped him with the backs of her calves, winding her tapered legs around his pumping body as her eyes rolled uncontrollably in her head. Her ankles were locked tightly together behind his shoulder blades now, spiraling her ravenous cunt up the full length of his hard plunging shaft.
Her face was contorted and straining for the final explosion of exquisite sensation that was so near . . . so near . . . so near . . . just a fraction of a second away.
And then it happened.
The accelerated friction of the moist elastic cuntal sheath sucking at his throbbing cock was too much for Bob! An irresistible flood of feeling built up in the nerve ends deep in his balls and surged relentlessly outwards -- a towering wave of passion that hurled him forward on its seething crest and then broke thunderously about his ears!
He was too young and too inexperienced to control it. He gasped, and his mouth clamped down desperately on hers as he uttered a long groan that swelled to a cry of despair. His penis began jerking uncontrollably and he spewed his lust-heated sperm far up into her wildly dilating cuntal passage. She could feel it jetting against the tip of her cervix in great gushing torrents, deflating his cock with each scalding spurt . . . and she was still tenths of a second away from her own orgasm!
"Bob!" she was panting. "No, darling, no! Not yet! Please not yet, my love! Wait for me . . . wait for me!"
She squeezed the cheeks of her buttocks up hard against his already softening penis in a desperate attempt to keep it within her. Her naked heels pounded into his spent body as she sobbed her frustration into his widely gaping mouth. Her seething belly ground frantically against his suddenly slack loins, but it was no use. With a long sigh, he rolled from between her frantically gyrating thighs to lie exhausted beside her on the bunk, his head turned away from her and his lower lips clamped ashamedly between his teeth.
Joanna was crying with disappointment and rage. To have been unfulfilled the night before last . . . to have had her husband fall into a drunken sleep just when she had become inflamed with desire last night . . . and now to have been aroused when she had been perfectly happy lying here thinking -- only to be left high and dry once more! It was intolerable!
She kicked her legs out wide and dropped her own hands to her unsatisfied cunt, manipulating ineffectually the hair-lined slit up between her thighs. Greedily, desperately, she thrust two fingers into the cum-drenched cuntal passage, attempting to reach the impossible depths of the vanquished penis that had just slipped wetly from her cunt to betray her to the demons of unfulfillment.
And it was then that Alfred Maddon knocked on the cabin door and threw it open in a single brisk movement.
Bob Grant only just had time to scramble the sheet over himself and his wife before the steward was walking springily across the cabin to lay the steaming coffee tray on the table beneath the porthole. "Good morning, good morning," Maddon said breezily. "And a very good morning it is too! Sun's up, sea's blue. . and we'll be ashore again today, thank goodness!"
He tweaked the curtains aside to let the sunlight flood the cabin and turned to face them.
His crafty Cockney's eyes took in the scene at a glance -- and interpreted it correctly. The hurried movements as he opened the door, the odor of sex in the airless room, young Grant's sullen, handsome face turned away from the girl, Joanna's big eyes, red with crying, staring flintily at the ceiling . . . they all meant one thing to him, and one thing only. The young couple had been having a bash before breakfast, and the kid had buggered it up! Come off before the skirt was ready, by the look of things, clumsy young bastard! Maybe she'd be better off with Len Bonner at that! At least the advertising man knew what he was doing, and good luck to him! Come to that, the steward thought lustfully, he wouldn't mind having a go at that blonde bird himself! Those tits of hers were out of this world!
If ever he did get the chance to lay his hands on that luscious piece of stuff, he'd shove his bloody cock so far up her cunt she'd be able to suck him off from the inside! God, he'd like to grab her right now and throw it to her as she lay on that bunk, whether her pussyfoot husband was watching or not! There'd be something in it for the boy too, come to think of it, he reflected: that little scene they'd worked up in the Bonnets' cabin after he'd been tricked was very interesting! Very interesting indeed!
He poured two cups of coffee and carried them over to the bed. "We drop anchor at ten," he said, "and the tenders will be alongside from ten thirty. So you'd better look slippy if you want to get up and get a good breakfast inside you before you go ashore."
"Thank you, steward," Bob Grant said distantly. His wife was still staring expressionlessly at the ceiling. With an inward smile, Maddon bowed slightly and left the cabin.
For some time after he had left, neither of them spoke or moved. And then Joanna said tonelessly, "We'd better get a move on as he says. Do you want to use the tub first, Bob or shall I?"
"Don't forget your coffee, darling," Bob said.
"I guess I don't want any coffee this morning, thank you."
"No coffee? But you always say you don't feel half way human until you've had your coffee, honey. What gives?"
"Maybe I am only half human . . . this morning," Joanna said coldly."
"Then drink your coffee for God's sakes! What's the matter?"
"Matter?" Joanna repeated, as though it was the first time she had heard the word. "What do you mean, what's the matter?"
`Swell I mean . . . like something's up, isn't it?
Don't you feel good or something?"
"I feel fine," Joanna said. "There's nothing the matter with me . . . I feel fine."
"Then why . . . ?" Bob scratched his head in bewilderment. "I don't get it. You act as though you were mad or something. Look . . . if it's about last night . . ."
"It's not about last night." "Then what is it about, baby?"
"It isn't about anything. There's no `it' for there to be anything about."
"Aw, honey. Quit talking in riddles will you?" Bob gulped down his coffee, grimaced wryly, and turned towards his wife. "Did I say something? Did I do something?"
"You didn't do anything," Joanna said pointedly. "And sometimes you say too much." "Hell! All I did, I asked you what was the matter and . . . ."
"And I said nothing. End of conversation. Period."
"But you just said . . ."
"Oh God, do you have to go on and on and on?" Joanna interrupted irritably. "Sometimes you're just a little boy! As Alfred said, it's time we got moving, Robert. Go take a shower or we shall be late."
"Late for what?" her husband asked sharply. The nucleus of an idea was taking shape in his mind. It was something Joanna had said a moment ago . . . something about his not doing anything. He was sure he must be wrong, but if he was right and she'd meant that . . . The thought sent a flush of humiliation sweeping across his face.
The blonde on the bunk sighed patiently.
"You can't have been that drunk," she said. "Have you forgotten we promised to make up a party with the Bonners to go ashore . . . at . . . wherever it is."
"We did not!" Did she think he'd failed her somehow? The unwelcome idea was becoming clearer in his mind. If he was right, maybe that was why she was so irritable! He'd heard men say often enough that women were pretty damned screwball that way! But the thought was so unwelcome that he refused to accept it. If it was true but it couldn't be true! . . . then it meant that, at least in part, he would be to blame. And since his subconscious mind couldn't permit him to be at fault he transferred the blame elsewhere.
"We did too," Joanna was saying. "You know perfectly well they asked us and we accepted . . . not with a very good grace on your part, I must say."
"They're dreadful people," Bob said. "Flashy and coarse and vulgar."
"Ten thirty at the gangway," his wife said. "On the first tender away."
"We don't want to get mixed up with that class of person. He's a boor -- a crude, uncultured, semiliterate boor. As for the woman, she's not much better than a cheap hustler."
"Robert Grant! How can you sit there and say such things! I thought Harriet was a very nice person," Joanna said warmly.
"Oh, so it's Harriet now, is it? Getting very intimate all of a sudden, aren't we?" the young man sneered. "Well, I don't want you to associate with them. I told you before, the kind of people you meet in that job of yours are going to do us no good at all."
"I happened to meet these particular people on board this ship -- on a cruise paid for by your father."
"Oh, don't drag the old man into it again! Please! Just because I'm lucky enough to have a generous family, you have to keep on beefing about it, on and on and on! I should have thought you'd have been glad enough to take advantage of their generosity. I don't see any cruise tickets in the mail from your family!"
"That's a mean thing to say!" the girl cried angrily. "You know perfectly well that all my folks are out in Iowa, and they're in no position to . . ."
"So you make do with your . . . friends . . . in the ad man's world. Well they're not good enough, that's all. The sooner you give up that modeling crap the better. Making an exhibition of yourself for every dirty old man on the Coast to see!"
"I don't notice any complaints from you when I deposit the money I earn in our account!" Joanna flashed.
He was breathing heavily, his face flushed -- with anger now. "I see. Now my job's not good enough for Madam! It's the men with the money she likes. Men like the charming Mr. Bonner, I suppose?"
"He's a big man in my business back home. And in yours too, if only you were intelligent enough to see it."
"So we have to crawl up his ass on our vacation, in the hope that we can pick up some crumbs from the rich man's table? No thank you! I'd sooner get the work on my own account and stay poor."
"Well your wish has been granted so far, hasn't it?" the girl said sarcastically. "Without the money I earn, we'd still be living in a rented room on the wrong side of town!"
"But I want you to give it up. I just told you."
"That's exactly what I mean, Robert. You don't give a damn what I feel or what I want. Just so long as your ego isn't tarnished, that's all you care! All right, let's go back to that rented room -- then at least you can say: `I did it all myself."
They stared at each other, scarlet with rage. Finally Bob said stubbornly: "Okay. So I'm wrong again. I guess I always am. I'll listened to you, I'd sure begin to believe it! But that doesn't alter the fact: we're not going ashore with the Bonnets today . . . or any other day. And that's final."
"You're so hipped up on manners and politeness," Joanna said frostily. "How d'you think these uncultured boors, as you call them, will take it if we back out on a date we made only last night? Is that cultured? Is that polite?"
"I don't give a shit what they think. We're not going, is all."
"What a nice way to talk to your wife! These college boys are so cultured, don't you think?"
"Fuck the college boys. Fuck the culture. And fuck you too, for that matter," Bob shouted rudely. "I say we're not going, and that's that!"
"But we agreed to go."
"You may have done. I didn't."
"Well okay . . . if I agreed to go, then I'm going on out and going."
"I'm not," the young man snapped -- and he lay down on the bunk and pulled the covers up to his chin.
Joanna glared at him and then leaped from the bed and headed for the bathroom door. "Robert Grant," she said accusingly, "do you mean to tell me that you'd let me go ashore in a strange city with strange people . . . and stay right here on the boat and do nothing about it?"
"Oh, shut. up, Jo, for Pete's sake!" her husband groaned.
She was furious now, her nostrils pinched and white, the corners of her mouth turned down. "You're just selfish," she cried. "That's what's the matter with you . . . you're plain selfish. You're selfish in bed and selfish out of it, and that's the truth! . . . Well all right, I will go ashore with Mr. and Mrs. Bonner. You can stay here and sulk if you want; I intend to go into that town and have a whale of a time, so there!"
As she whisked into the bathroom and slammed the door, he turned his face to the wall and closed his eyes.
An hour later, after they had dressed in silence and he had walked up on deck alone, he stood watching the gangway from behind a ventilator as the tender nosed alongside and the Purser prepared to shepherd the passengers ashore. Across the harbor, a range of hills blue with distance serrated the skyline behind the jumbled roofs and narrow shuttered facades of the waterfront. The shore party crowding into the long slim launch were chattering excitedly. For a moment Bob caught sight of Joanna, wearing a white linen suit and a bright forced smile, talking to Len Bonner, florid and perspiring in a yellow shantung jacket. Then they were lost to sight under the awning sheltering the fore-deck from the beating sun.
The tender's rudders thrashed and she circled away from the Arcadia and headed across the sparkling sea for a jetty in the center of the port.
"So exhausting, don't you think?" a voice murmured beside him. "It's the only time you can really take advantage of the amenities aboard -- when everyone else has gone ashore!"
He swung around. Harriet Bonner, provocatively attired in very short yellow shorts and a revealing halter top, was standing with a seductive smile at his side.
Chapter Four
Damn it, Bob Grant thought furiously . . . first he had a bust-up with his wife and now he found one of the two people the quarrel had been about was still on the ship and not, as he had thought, ashore with Joanna and her own husband!
That meant that Joanna would spend the whole day in the company of Len Bonner! She would be surrounded by his oily, overdone charm wherever she went in the strange city across the water; his crude insinuations would follow her through the markets and bazaars; every time she crossed a street, his thick-fingered yokel's hands would be pawing her, touching her up between her elbow and breast as he pretended to guide her through the traffic! Well it served her damned well right, Bob thought irritably, anger submerging the sudden flare of jealousy he had felt. Maybe a whole day in that coarse and vulgar bastard's company would be good for her! It would show her just what kind of people she was getting in with; she would see for herself the sort of crowd she seemed so keen for them to join!
In the meantime he was faced with the unwelcome presence of Bonner's flashy and underdressed wife. Why in hell had the woman not gone ashore as planned? Didn't she think the Turks would appreciate her lewdly displayed charms? In any event, he must make some excuse and get rid of her as soon as possible. He rather fancied a book and a deck chair in the sun on the promenade deck -- on the side away from the waterfront. Maybe he could get a hit of peace that way!
"Why - uh Mrs. Bonner!" he said with false heartiness." I sure didn't expect to see you here! What happened? I thought you were going ashore with your husband and . . . and my wife."
Harriet smiled winningly. "And I thought you were," she said. "What happened to you?"
"I `er . . . well I guess I didn't feel too good this morning. And what with the hot sun and the rich food . . . well, I guess I figured I'd be better off staying aboard. So I -- um -- I persuaded Joanna to go right on without me, Bob said weakly.
"But that's my story exactly!" the brunette exclaimed gaily. "My tummy was so upset when I woke, I couldn't leave the cabin until ten. I said to Len, I said, honey, if I come with you I'll not dare move a single foot beyond the pierhead toilets! You go on, I said, and tell me all about it later! I'll stay aboard and rest up a little. Is that what happened to you, too, Bob? Did you get an attack of the trots, too?"
"Well not exactly that is to say I . . . well, yes in a way," young Grant lied valiantly, flustered by this intimate account of Mrs. Bonner's alimentary details. He wasn't used to-women -- especially women he hardly knew -vouchsafing such private information in public.
"It must have been something we ate last night," Harriet said. "I told Len at the time: I suspect that crab salad, I said. I swear that crab meat's canned and not even deep-frozen! But he wouldn't listen. He went right ahead and ate the salad, and I had the fish soup. So what happens? He's okay today and I'm sick! Isn't that just like the world!"
"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bonner. In fact I thought I'd rest up myself today and take it easy, too. So maybe if you'll excuse me . . ."
"Oh but my dear boy that's exactly what you shouldn't do!" Harriet cried, forgetting that she had herself said she was going to do this a moment before. "It's the worst thing possible! All that happens if you do that, you mope around all day and think how sick you feel . . . and you end up feeling worse than ever. Keep out of the sun, yes. Leave off the pilafs and the kebabs and those cute pastries with honey and nuts and all. Stay away from that delicious halva! But otherwise you should forget it. Keep active and live an ordinary life, that's the only way, believe me!"
"Yes, but . . ."
"In any case, we shouldn't be standing out here in this hot sun, a couple of invalids like us!" Harriet said with mock severity. "I tell you what . . . why don't we go on down in the saloon, where it's nice and cool, and have us a glass of something to fix us up right now? Come on: it's my invitation -- besides, I'm much older than you and I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind."
"I'm sure she wouldn't," Bob began dubiously, "but I don't think . . ."
"Come on! It'll do you a world of good, I promise you. Toni, the barman, has a special recipe that works wonders with an upset tummy!" She put a soft hand through his arm and walked him unresistingly towards the companionway.
"Isn't it rather early?" Bob protested. "I mean . . . well, it's not eleven yet."
"Not a bit of it! Mediterranean tummy's just like a king-size hangover: the sooner you catch `em the better! Believe me, I know!"
Five minutes later, with a rather bad grace, Bob found himself sitting next to her on a leather-covered seat in a shadowy corner of the bar on "A" Deck, gazing at two glasses of dark-amber liquid which the barman had just placed on the table in front of them. At the far end of the big, oak-beamed saloon a trio of piano, drums and electric guitar played quietly in an alcove. Through the open windows, beyond the handful of drinkers seated on high stools behind the brass rails of the bar, the pale towers of modern apartment buildings gleamed in the blinding sunlight beside the swollen white domes of mosques. There was a forest of masts and rigging festooning the waterfront, and between the harbor and the ship the graceful terra cotta sail of a felucca scythed across the brilliant blue water.
"That's better!" Harriet said, raising her glass. "Get that down inside of you and you'll feel a new man. Good health!"
Feeling a complete fraud, Bob did the same and then took a suspicious sip of his drink. It was unexpectedly warm and mellow, with a delicious fruity under-flavor, leaving a dark velvety glow in his throat after he had swallowed it. "Mmmmmmm! That's good!" he said. "I expected one of those damned bitter concoctions. What is this?"
The brunette laughed. "Simple," she said. "It's just port and brandy in equal proportions, with a tiny dash of Angostura. It's the best thing in the world for settling the stomach."
"Port and brandy!" Bob echoed. "But isn't that rather . . . well, rather alcoholic? I mean it's mixing drinks, too, isn't it? I thought . . ."
"The only things you mustn't mix are the grain and the grape," Harriet said. "Like whiskey and sherry, or gin and wine. But both of these are made from grapes. Anyway, the important thing is -- it works!"
He took another gulp, a larger one this time. It sure was good! It went down just like warm silk. If he'd really been sick, he was sure it would have made him feel better!
Mrs. Bonner was tipping her glass to her lips. She took a deep swallow of the smooth dark liquid, her eyes sparkling at him over the rim of the glass. He became uncomfortably aware of her proximity . . . and of how little clothing there was covering her ripely voluptuous body. She was sitting with her legs crossed. They weren't as long as Joanna's legs, but they were firm and tanned and shapely, and the ankles above the high-heeled white sandals were graceful and slender. He tried not to look at the swell of her hips as they bulged out the tightly-stretched material of her yellow hot pants. There were fan-shaped creases splayed out from the point where they plunged down between her shapely thighs, and the crotch was so tight that the seam had sunk slightly into her vaginal slit and outlined the round fleshy lips of her pussy.
Bob swallowed the rest of his drink hastily and set the glass back on the table. Beyond the miniature brass rail circling its edge, he could see a tiny trail of dark hairs shadowing the tautly muscled plane of Mrs. Bonner's stomach on its way up to her navel. Above her bronzed midriff, the plunge-neck halter top jutted away from her chest in two ripely swelling mounds between which a deep, soft cleft was visible.
She was a pretty good-looking woman really, he supposed. She certainly had a well-stacked figure in there! He looked away and out the window towards the glittering minarets of the city. Somewhere in the narrow streets below those sugar-cake towers Joanna was laughing and chattering with this woman's oafish husband, while he was stuck here drinking with a superannuated sex-symbol on this Goddamn ship! Well maybe he was being a little unfair: Mrs. Bonner wasn't so old really. In fact she couldn't be more than two or three years older than he was, when you came down to it. It was just that, somehow, she seemed older.
Damn Joanna anyway, he thought with a flash of anger. If she hadn't gone and made some damnfool arrangement with these people, they would never have quarreled. They would have gone ashore together as they planned, and he wouldn't be here trying to find some excuse to get away from the overpowering Mrs. Bonner. If Joanna hadn't behaved like such a bitch this morning, the whole thing need never have happened.
"Another drink for your thoughts!" Mrs. Bonner had finished her own drink and she was smiling at him over the table. Her sensuous lower lip gleamed wetly beneath a sparkle of white teeth.
Bob stumbled to his feet, knocking his glass over on the table. "N-n-no, please. Let me," he stammered. "I insist."
Harriet sat watching his angular, muscled figure stride to the bar with the same faint confident smile on her lips. He really was a good-looking boy! She had been through this time and time again and it never ceased to excite her. She was looking forward to the next moves in the game and she was going to enjoy seeing this stiffnecked greenhorn squirm when she turned on the heat! If only she could get him to her cabin, she'd really put him through his paces; she'd make it a fuck like nothing he'd ever had before, she told herself. It wasn't often that she got the chance to lay her hands on someone this young and this naive; it was a long time since she'd had the opportunity to break in a kid this innocent! Why, she guessed those two didn't even know how to begin once they got into the sack! It would be like that old salesman's gag about the three greyhounds that Len used to tell -- Whippet-in, Whippet-out and Wipe-it! Her smile broadened at the memory.
Bob Grant was back at the table with two glasses. "I got the same again, Mrs. Bonner," he said. "I guess that's the safest thing to do, eh?"
"That's fine, Bob. Just fine." Harriet said. "But look -- we're all together on this boat for another couple of weeks. Why don't we put an end to these formalities? I'd sure like for you to call me Harriet. Okay?"
"Uh -- why sure, Harriet. That's just great. I'd be glad to," the young man said awkwardly. Flushing slightly, he picked up his glass and swallowed half the contents in a single gulp. Perhaps Joanna had been right after all. Mrs. Bonner . . . Harriet . . . did seem to be quite a nice person, warm and friendly and uncomplicated as his wife had said. Not at all flashy really, when you came to think of it. Hell, with a body like that, you could hardly blame her for dressing to show it off! He drained his glass and put it carefully back on the table. It certainly was a good mixture: his whole body was permeated with a mellow glow and the self-consciousness he had felt before seemed magically to have vanished!
Harriet lifted her glass to her lips and smiled inwardly. She was going to enjoy playing mama to this kid. In just a little while now. A tinge of anticipation rippled between her thighs as she pictured him naked before her. "Why don't you ask me to dance, Bob?" she asked softly.
`They're playing one of the good old ones and it gives me kind of an itch in the feet!"
He glanced across the saloon. A few of the passengers who had not gone ashore were swaying in front of the trio. They were playing Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.
"Why sure," the boy said hastily, rising to his feet. "I'd be happy to, if you'd care to. Excuse me, Harriet."
He led her out to the tiny dance floor with one hand proprietarily under her elbow. She took him a little by surprise, the way she curled herself warmly in his arms, making certain he could feel the taut, full tips of her breasts pushing ripely into his chest. This girl was really built! He must be very careful, he told himself: it would never do if he found himself getting hot pants for the voluptuous Mrs. Bonner -especially just after he had quarreled with his wife! He tried to pull back a little and she smiled up into his face.
"Don't be afraid of me," she murmured. "I won't bite!" Her hand, which had been resting on his shoulder, curled round his collar and cradled the back of his neck.
His face flushed again as the touch of her cool fingers sent a tremor of excitement quivering down his spine. He felt her push forward harder, spreading her legs slightly as she danced so that the swollen mound of her pussy ground softly against the top of his thigh. Her own thigh was pressing tightly between his legs as they moved slowly in time to the music. He caught his breath as she made contact with the soft bulge of his penis and, breathing into his ear, began to gyrate her legs slowly and methodically against it.
"I think I like dancing with you," she whispered as she felt the first slight stirrings of his cock beneath his tightly stretched pants.
Bob was aghast. Joanna was ashore with this woman's husband, and here he was in full view of the other passengers, getting a hard-on as Harriet Bonner draped herself more and more closely around him on the dance floor. The more she continued the maddening oscillations of her thigh against his loins, the more his cock jerked and quivered and the harder it got! And the worst thing of all was that he was enjoying it! He was having a ball!
His head was beginning to swim from the effects of the two large drinks he had downed so rashly. But he knew he had to get off that dance floor somehow or other. Fast! Already he could feel a cold wetness at the top of his thigh as the seminal fluid from the damply seeping head of his cock moistened the thin material of his pants. God -- and he was wearing those light tan pants that showed every mark! People would notice!
"I wonder what it's like over there . . . I mean what kind of town it is," he babbled desperately, swinging her round so that they were looking out the window at the shimmering sea and the pool beyond.
Harriet had been watching the changing expressions on his face with inward amusement. It was time to put Phase Two of the operation into action. "I can show you pictures," she said with a smile. "Len's got a set of color photos -almost as good as going ashore! Come on, let's go back to the table and I'll go get them from our cabin."
Thankfully, he piloted her off the floor and sat down. There was a wet patch on his pants, a dark circle of moisture staining the pale material over the long lewd bulge of his penis. Drawing his chair up as near the table as he could, he thrust his knees out of sight.
"I'll be with you in one minute," Harriet said.
"Excuse me, please." She picked up her glass and drained it and then walked away. Bob watched her go with his senses reeling. The drink was really getting to him now. Hell, though -that baby sure knew how to walk! With the tight little moons of that ass rolling and those tits bouncing under that skimpy halter top, she looks as sexy as all get-out. And she knows it! Reluctantly, he tore his mind away from Len Bonner's wife and stared blearily out the window on the other side of the saloon. There were gulls circling the ship. Otherwise only the white triangle of a sailboat tacking towards the harbor broke the blue monotony of the sea.
Before she left the saloon, Harriet returned to the table with two more drinks. Bob half rose to his feet, remembered the patch on his pants, and slumped down again with an embarrassed laugh. "Gee," he stammered. "Mrs. Bonner Harriet . . . No, really, I guess I've had enough. I don't think . . ."
"Nonsense!" the curvaceous brunette chided. "Drink it up. It'll do you good! Make a new man of you. Why, you're looking better already!"
Smiling conspiratorially, she spring-heeled away. Now completely befuddled, Bob Grant stared at the rich brown fluid in the glass. After a moment, twirling the stem between his finger and thumb, he raised the glass to his lips and began absent-mindedly to sip the contents.
Harriet Bonner was back at the table in two minutes. There was a puzzled frown creasing her brow beneath the frame of dark hair. "I can't seem to open the door of our cabin," she said worriedly. "I guess it probably jammed, but they say it's the favorite time for sneak thieves, when they think everyone's ashore. On the other hand, I don't want to raise hell if the damned thing is simply stuck. I wonder would you mind taking a look at it? A man's so much better at this kind of thing, I always say."
"Why of course . . . I'd be glad to." Bob gulped down the rest of his drink and rose to his feet.
When they got to the door of the stateroom, Harriet handed him the key and stood aside. After a couple of bungled attempts, he fitted it in the lock and turned it.
The key revolved easily, the tongue of the lock slid smoothly back, and the door swung open.
"Why silly me!" Harriet giggled. "It was okay all the time! Fancy making a stupid mistake like that . . ."
Standing just inside the cabin, Bob felt suddenly tongue-tied and overpowered by the intimacy of the situation. The ship was silent all around them. Between the opened drapes, a shaft of midday sunshine slanted into the stateroom to spotlight two pairs of lace-edged panties lying on top of one of Len Bonner's jackets over the back of a chair. A lacy pink brassier hanging from a hook on the wall was just visible through the half-opened bathroom door.
He swallowed. "Well, if there's nothing else I can do," he began, "I guess I'd better be getting along . . . If there's nothing missing, that is. Is there anything missing? Did you check?"
"There's nothing missing," Harriet said without looking around. She was staring at the wet patch on his pants in a meaningful way that made him blush to the roots of his hair. `There never was anything missing . . . except you."
"M-m-me?" Bob was thunderstruck and his voice rose almost to a squeak.
"Yes, you," Harriet said calmly, shutting the door and leaning her back against it. "It was the only way I could think of to get you in here. I've had my eye on you ever since the trip started. You know you're a very handsome and desirable young man."
He stared at her with his mouth open. Finally he said into the stunned silence. "B-b-b-but I'm a married man. And you're married too!"
"That always makes it just that little bit more exciting, don't you think?"
Through the swirling fog of alcohol that was clouding his brain, Bob gazed at her in stupefaction. He was so dumbfounded by her sudden brazen revelation that he was totally at a loss for words. "You do find me attractive don't you?" Harriet whispered . . . and suddenly she reached behind her, unsnapped the fasteners of the yellow halter top, and allowed it to drop to the floor. Her tautly swelling breasts sprang free, lewdly white against the golden tan of her body. The nipples centered on the dark and slightly puckered aureoles were stiff and erect. She walked up to him and stood with the two of them lightly pressing against his chest.
"Harriet, you've got to be kidding," he said desperately, at the same time sensing with a despairing inevitability that his cock was once more jerking into hardness. Christ, he'd got to get out of here!
"I was never more serious in my life, darling." "But . . . but what about your . . . what about Len?"
"Len goes along with anything I want, lover. And I mean anything."
"But suppose he . . ."
"Look, I can handle Len," she interrupted with a seductive smile. All you have to do is handle me!"
"But Harriet we can't . . . we mustn't . . ."
I mean I don't dare . . ." Bob broke off with a gasp as her hands snaked suddenly down to his loins and unzipped his fly with a single practiced movement. The next moment, her cool fingers were dragging down the waistband of his shorts, groping across his abdomen for his rapidly hardening cock.
He gave a strangled cry, half fear and half ecstasy, as her hand clenched around the rigid shaft and pulled it free of the encumbering garments into the open air.
"My!" she said, eyeing the gently pulsating organ. "You're quite a man aren't you?"
The third drink was hitting Bob now. With three double shots inside of him, and no breakfast, he was possessed of a sudden recklessness, a courage and -- a confidence he would never have believed himself capable of. His doubts and his fears had slipped magically away; he felt all at once, through the alcoholic haze surrounding him, in total command of the situation.
"I'm sure glad there's somebody who thinks so," he said.
"How could anyone think otherwise?" She was still staring hungrily at his massively upstanding rod, massaging the foreskin up and down its rigid length with her finger and thumb. "Why, isn't it right with you and your wife in bed?"
"I guess it's because she's inexperienced," he blurted out. "She thinks it's me that's no good because I always seem to shoot off before she's ready. But if only she'd . . . I mean I think it's because it's all too quick and sudden. If we could build up slowly; if only she'd play around a little, or let me . . . but all she seems to want is to stuff it straight in and off we go! It's almost as though she wanted to get it over with -- and then she gets mad because she hasn't cum!"
He stared at her miserably, unconsciously undulating his hips back and forth in time with the excitingly erotic movements of her expert hand. It was great to be able to talk to someone at last. He had to admit, he'd been all wrong about Harriet Bonner. She was a regular person all right; the sort of woman a man could confide in. And, God, she was exciting!
"I'll teach you a few tricks you can take back to her," Harriet promised softly. "Come on . . . let's get naked!"
The suddenness of the approach took his breath away. Of course he'd known ever since he got into her cabin that something was going to happen, but it had been an idea right at the back of his mind . . . he'd pushed it out of sight. Now here it was right out in the open, in technicolor and in close-up . . . he, Bob Grant, was going to lie with his naked body next to the naked body of the bare breasted woman who was fondling his penis! Now!
Seeing him hesitate, Harriet let go of his cock and pressed the whole softly lascivious length of herself against him, twining both her arms round his neck as she leaned her head forward and nibbled at the lobe of his ear. "You do want to fuck me, don't you?" she breathed warmly.
"Yes, I do. Christ, yes, I want to!" he muttered hoarsely. His naked cock, rammed hard against the rough material of her yellow hot pants, felt as though it would burst at any moment. There were tremors of unbearable excitement rippling up and down his spine beneath his shirt.
"Then tell me so!" she murmured, rotating her soft belly invitingly against his pelvis.
"I want to fuck you," he groaned. The obscene phrase coming from her mouth had sent a shiver of joy coursing through his veins. Now that he was repeating it the excitement was intensified even further.
"How?" she demanded. "How?"
"Hard! I want to fuck you to death!"
"Oh God," Harriet moaned, pushing him away from her squirming body. "Get those clothes off you before I die! I want to feel that thing inside of me!"
Despairingly, he thrust all thought of Joanna from his mind and began stripping his jacket and shirt from his body. It was too late to think of his wife now, too late to back out . . . and by Christ he was going to throw it to her, the sexy bitch!
Half turning away from him, Harriet unclasped the narrow waistband of her hot pants and slid them seductively down over her smooth flaring hips. As the full-rounded cheeks of her buttocks came into view the young husband marveled at the unselfconsciously erotic significance with which she invested every tantalizing movement. The woman dripped sex and nothing else!
She was bending over now, stepping out of the brief hot pants . . . and presenting him with a completely unimpeded rear view of the narrow nylon strip of her panties between her firm full thighs. As the flesh tightened, the pale blue material slipped teasingly into the crevice of her buttocks . . . and then remained bunched up in the soft, hidden furrow up between her legs when she straightened up and dropped the pants on the chair. Turning and looking him full in the eye, she lowered herself gently to the bunk, spread her legs slightly, and said: "Take off my panties for me, will you?"
Bob had felt a slight tinge of embarrassment as he lowered his own pants and shorts to stand with his swollen cock pointing lustfully at the ceiling. But now he dropped to his knees and reached for the flimsy nylon waistband of her panties with excitedly trembling fingers.
She lifted her legs and rested her feet on his shoulder as his knuckles came into lust-inciting contact with the warm satin smoothness of her belly. He could feel the cold pressure of the leather as her high-heeled white sandals dug into his flesh. The pressure increased as she flexed her slender ankles to lever her hips off the bed so that he could pull the panties down to her thighs.
Slowly he drew the frail blue nylon down the voluptuously tapering length of her legs. As the inverted triangle of darkly curling pubic hair slid into view he exclaimed aloud: "God, but you're beautiful!"
Harriet leaned back on her elbows and smiled a lazy seductive smile, writhing her loins slightly to expose the thin hair-lined slit of her pussy up between her parted legs. He could see that she to was aroused. The first tiny dewdrops of moisture were faintly visible, glistening wetly in the tight narrow cuntal slit, and the thin crotch band of the panties was damp.
It was all he could do to keep from leaning forward and locking his lips to the obscenely exposed softness of her flesh at that very moment. But he held himself back. He sensed that she needed more titillation. She knew what making love was all about; she wasn't the kind of woman you simply rammed it into without preparing her well for it first. The reward would be well worth the torture of waiting!
Abruptly she lifted her feet from his shoulders and, reaching forward, whisked the panties over her sandals and dropped them beside the bunk. He hoped that she would keep the sandals on just the same. Their high-heeled elegance, and the way the white straps crisscrossed her slender ankles, stimulated him visually. He'd like to take her like that, he thought . . . naked in high heels. He'd never had a woman like that, though he had sometimes tried playfully to pull Joanna down on the bed while she was half dressed. But she had always, in a kind of puritanical way, pushed him off and continued her preparations for bed in the bathroom. Come to think of it, he hardly ever did see her undressing or only partly dressed. She seemed to have a thing about it that he could not understand. He'd tried in his inarticulate way to explain that a man needed a little preparation just as much as a woman did: it was too much to expect him just to crawl into bed with a woman already between the covers and go at it without some kind of prior arousal. They'd even discussed it in an offhanded way once or twice, but they never seemed to get any place.
But God, this Harriet Bonner knew about these things! She knew what a woman's body was for and he bet she knew how to use it in the sack too! She'd teach him a few tricks, she's said he could hardly wait for class to begin!
The sensuous brunette swung her legs up onto the bed and lay back with her head on the pillow. "Why don't you join me, lover?" she cooed.
With his heart pounding in his chest, Bob Grant rose to his feet, leaned over, and pressed his lips tightly down on hers. She reached up, curled her arms around his neck, and pulled him down on top of her, and one of his legs fell tightly between her open thighs. She was astonishingly supple and soft and her body glued itself to his as though it belonged there. She ground her thigh rhythmically up into his loins, bringing his cock to even more painful hardness and he could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping from the glans on the blood-engorged tip smearing against his skin.
She continued massaging his burgeoning loins with a practiced thoroughness until he thought his painfully swollen cock-head would explode. It was jerking now as though he would cum at the slightest extra pressure: he could feel it building deep in his sperm-bloated testicles below, he thrust his tongue far into her mouth as she sucked greedily on it, nibbling with tiny sharp nips of her teeth that sent chills running the length of his spine. Pulling his head away to escape the agonizing teasing, he laid his cheek against her soft dark hair, thinking guiltily for a moment of his wife and the shock she would get if she could see him now . . . stretched over the lustfully naked body of her escort's wife. Joanna'll blow her stack! In her girlish innocence she wouldn't believe it: she didn't know infidelity existed.
"I want you to fuck me," Harriet said hoarsely. "I want to feel that big cock. It's going to feel good going inside of me and twisting around deep in my cunt. Oh God, I want you to screw me good with it!"
Panting, Bob moved his hands down under the fleshy smoothness of her buttocks and cupped them gently. They were firm and full, but beautifully shaped as he had expected. Her body was warm and soft against him as she locked her mouth tightly to his and one hand searched down between their excitedly pressed bodies for the hardness of his penis. He gasped aloud as the coolness of her fingers closed once more around his throbbing rigidity. Pressing his head forward, he kissed her moistly back, her full lips yielding before the harsher pressure of his teeth with a moist rubbery softness that sent flickers of excitement racing over his skin. She crushed the full length of her sensitive woman's body up against him and ground her pelvis tightly into him before suddenly twisting aside and pulling him over on top of her, opening her legs wide to take him up between them.
His cock was resting hard against her thighs now, pressed into the narrow hair-lined slit of her cunt. She arched up momentarily, levering them both off the bed with the strength of her back -- and then, reaching under her buttocks with both hands, she pulled her vaginal lips slowly apart, giving his penis greater contact with the wetly sensitive flesh as it lay the moist full length of the pulsating furrow. Then she relaxed, easing her body back to the bunk with his rigid member trapped tightly between her thighs.
But Bob couldn't hold back another second. Drawing back his hips, he maneuvered the painfully throbbing head of his penis into the opening of her cuntal passage and then plunged forward with a sudden cruel thrust that drove it with a flesh-rending surge up into the gaping mouth of her pussy.
Len Bonner's wife gave a low animalistic moan as she felt the lust-heated shaft of his hardness slide relentlessly up into the elastic-like sheath of her cunt. His long thick cock raced up her passion-drenched vagina to the full depths of her quivering belly as his balls slapped hard against the rounded cheeks of her buttocks.
Harriet gasped and squirmed beneath him, twisting frenziedly to escape the sudden unexpected pain. But he thrust harder, screwing his pelvis tighter into her loins with long fierce strokes. He was proud that he could hurt her in this way because it meant that at last he had gained the upper hand -- he could hurt her but she couldn't hurt him back!
Reveling for a moment in the sexual power he possessed over another man's wife, he flexed the bloated head of his cock far up inside her cunt to bring another low moan from between Harriet's tightly clenched teeth.
She was straining back under him now, arching her loins up at him, lifting them both off the mattress with the strength of her matching upward thrusts. Mewling ceaselessly beneath Bob's hard pounding body, opening and closing her legs around his hips, she skewered herself up and down the hotly raging length of his impaling cock.
"Ooooo God! It's so good, so goooood!" she moaned. "Go on, Bob, hurt me again! Make me scream! Shove your finger up my ass, damn it . . . make me scream!"
"W-w-what did you say?" For a moment the lewd request astonished the young husband so much that it put him off his stroke.
"Stick your finger in my ass!" the brunette cried. "Put it in now!"
He reached dazedly under her and between her driving buttocks as he began once more to rhythmically plunge his cock into the heated wetness of her widespread pussy. He stretched the crevice of her buttocks wide, searching with the tip of his middle finger for her tiny puckered anus. Suddenly he found it.
A rivulet of warm moisture was running down the widespread cleft from where he could feel his own hard rod of flesh sawing into her. It greased the tightly clenched little opening, lubricating it slightly as he probed experimentally with his fingertip. He pushed hard, feeling it give a little -- and then suddenly the elastically interfolded nether ring gave way and his middle finger slid in up to the first knuckle joint. Harriet started, almost crawling on her back across the bed to escape the first sudden pain.
"Aaaaaagh! Oh Christ -- it hurts!" she screamed. He thrust again, sinking the finger in to the second knuckle.
"Aaaaagh! Ooooooh, yes! Yes, hurt me more. Go on, hurt me!"
And all at once she was screwing her buttocks back on his finger until it was sunk up inside her to the palm of his hand. His mind exploding
with excitement at the thought of the lewdly obscene thing he was doing, he rotated it inside, exploring the soft rubbery depths of her rectum. He could feel with a wild tingle of erotic sensation the ridged underside of his own cock sliding in and out of her through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages.
As he began skewering her between penis and finger, maintaining the same rhythm for both, she threw her legs wide out over the bunk to give him greater access to the wanton ravishing of her steaming loins.
Bob could feel his cock still growing and expanding inside her until it felt as though it was going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his testicles as they slapped heavily into the moistened crevice of her ass-cheeks. It wouldn't be long now, he hoped; she had to cum soon! But he was still perfectly confident that he could hold it back. He began ramming it into her with longer and harder strokes to excite her even more.
She gurgled and groaned beneath him, the animal sounds bursting out from deep within her throat. "Oooooh, fuck it! Fuck it hard! Ram it into me! Fuck it haarrrrrdddd!" she chanted, panting out all the obscene words and phrases she knew as she jackknifed her legs up tight and pressed her knees back hard into her breasts, offering him the full wet opening of her upraised pussy while Bob continued to thrust mercilessly into her with all his strength. He knew she must be almost there -- her eyes were rolling uncontrollably in her head and her face was contorted and straining for the final explosion that was so near.
And then suddenly she drew in her breath sharply and her whole body tensed. "I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, she whispered frantically, almost as though she was afraid to say the words. And then, with a low-pitched whine, "I'm cumming!"
She pulled back her thighs still tighter until the whole of her stretched pink vaginal slit was presented up to him to batter and use as he willed. Her ankles locked over his shoulders, her heels drummed frenziedly on his sweating back and her cunt squirmed beneath his pounding loins. Her entire body shuddered and spasmed in abandoned ecstasy as her mouth hung open and her eyes gazed wide and unseeing at the ceiling. At the same time, whimpering softly into the still quiet air of the cabin, her nostrils flared open and she screwed herself up on his relentlessly driving cock and locked herself to him with all the strength of her thighs while her loins continued their spasmodic jerking against his naked belly.
For an interminable moment she held her breath . . . and then expelled it as though she had been hit in the stomach by an iron fist. Her body fell back limply to the mattress and she lay still except for the uncontrollable quivering of her pussy still clamped tightly around his tortured cock. He thrust deep into her and then lay quiet, allowing her to rest.
It was all he could do to keep from screwing on into her. God, he had never in his life seen anything like it! He had never felt anything like it either! He flexed the muscles at the head of his lust-maddened penis far up in her quivering belly, hoping to arouse her again.
Harriet gave a deeply satisfied sigh and stretched her body under him. "Christ, that was good!" she murmured. "I haven't had a ride like that in a long time!"
"You're not finished yet," Bob Grant gasped, supremely confident in the miracle that he had wrought.
She put up a hand and ruffled his hair. "You sure held back a long time," she said admiringly.
"But not for much longer. I'm almost there." He was breathing hard and there was a dew of perspiration on his upper lip.
Harriet shifted her position and smiled salaciously up into his face. "Roll over darling," she whispered, nibbling at the lobe of his ear. "I'm going to give you a special reward for being so patient!"
Reluctantly, the adulterous young husband pulled back, sliding his aching hardness wetly out of the passion-drenched warmth of her pussy. He hated to withdraw it: he was so near cumming in her belly That he didn't want to stop. But he had to let her do it her way . . . it would be better that way until he had learned more about making love to her. He had never done anything with his own wife but climb on top of her and shoot it off after a few quick strokes and that was it! Joanna didn't like to play -- yet. Well maybe he'd learn some things here that she might like after all, if only he could get her to cooperate. In the meantime, he'd just let Bonner's wife handle it until he learned a little more about really pleasing a woman!
Pleased with his performance so far and panting eagerly for the next phase, Bob Grant eased away from the womanly softness of Harriet Bonner's naked flesh, and rolled over on his back. His heart was hammering under his ribs as he lay tense with his hotly pulsing rigidity pointed straight at the ceiling, the blood-engorged head throbbing painfully at the top of the glistening shaft.
She turned on her side toward him, reaching out with her hand to stroke the sensitive flesh of his foreskin up and down the iron-hard rod in a slow, magical rhythm that increased the ache in his semen-bloated balls almost beyond endurance. Then she rose to her knees and hovered over him on all fours with her face only inches away from the moistly trembling head of his cock. Holding it tightly between both hands, she rolled and stroked it between her palms in a teasing up and down motion that compelled him to undulate his loins in time to the maddening rhythm.
Slowly her head lowered itself towards his throbbing hardness -- and then suddenly her tongue flickered forward, the tip boring teasingly into the wetness of the tiny slit on the end. He sucked in his breath at the unexpected contact, groaning far back in his throat. Chills rippled along his spine as she brought her mouth gently down all the way, enclosing the whole of the sensitive cock-head in a moist warm pressure. Her lips tightened like an elastic band around the thickly distended shaft just below
the glans, trapping it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth.
"Christ!" moaned Bob, lifting his head to stare down the naked length of his own body at her cock-filled face. The sight of his desire-hardened cudgel of flesh sunk halfway into her roundly ovalled lips increased the sensation a thousand-fold! Still wet from the secretions of her orgasm, the angry red shaft gleamed lewdly in the soft cabin where it projected from her mouth. Gently she massaged the soft hairiness of his testicles with one hand and stroked the base of his cock between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck rhythmically up and down. He could feel the muscled softness of her tongue twirling madly around the bulbous head at the apex of her withdrawal. He flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, gazing in erotic fascination at the top of her obscenely bobbing head.
Harriet sensed the increasing tension of his reaction and began to suck him a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard resisting flesh of his penis. She shifted her position over his thigh without disengaging her mouth, and kneeled on all fours up between his open legs. Reaching under his buttocks, she cupped them in her palms and pulled his loins up tighter into her face, all the while swaying her head from side to side and pulling the aching rigidity of his shaft this way as she swiped her tongue around and around the pulsating head. Bob felt the unbearably inflated flesh swell almost to bursting point as she increased the speed of her maddening sucking, sinking the whole of the rigid shaft deep into the back of her throat.
Great swirls of shuddering heat were building deep, deep in his lust-tightened balls as he watched her face slavering over his tormented loins. He could see tiny streams of perspiration rolling in thin droplets from the sides of her body as she bucked over him like a demon gone mad. The muscles of his stomach tensed and tensed again as he arched his back up off the bed, pushing himself even farther into the moistness of her wildly sucking lips. Thin pink ridges of flesh pulled out from her mouth on each outstroke, clinging hungrily to his hard-thrusting cock.
Bob's lips were working crazily as a stream of incoherent murmurs forced themselves between his clenched teeth. And suddenly he gasped.
The moment was here!
A low guttural sound moaned deep in his throat as he felt the scalding sperm jet forward from deep in his balls and begin spewing in hot thin streams into her insanely sucking mouth. Fish-like, her cheeks expanded and hollowed as she swallowed the warmly flooding gushes to keep from choking. She went on sucking greedily as he emptied his white-hot sperm endlessly into the wetness of her mouth. His hands tangled cruelly in her dark hair, holding her head forcibly down on the throbbing of his loins as he pushed his squirting rod of male flesh all the way back to her throat.
Harriet coughed and swallowed to regain her breath as he moaned and jerked . . . and then at last he grunted in complete fulfillment. Slowly, the massive cock deflated in her mouth as she continued her gentle sucking, drawing every last tiny drop of the warn sticky sperm from the pulsing head.
And then it was over. She had sucked him dry and with a final groan he collapsed, arms widespread, across the bed. She nibbled gently at him for awhile, her head resting on his shuddering thigh, and then crawled up over his body to cradle his head against her still heaving breasts. She bent down and kissed him on the lips.
"Nice?" she said softly after a moment.
"Mmmmmmm!" he murmured sleepily, flicking out his tongue to lick caressingly at the tautly swelling curve on the underside of one breast.
"I know more."
"Can there be more?" He half sat up, staring at her in amazement.
Her soft lips parted in an infinitely erotic smile; her eyes danced mischievously in the soft light of the cabin. Rolling suddenly over on to her back, she pulled her knees up to her chest, reached both hands around behind her buttocks, and splayed open the wetly glistening lips of her hair-lined cunt with her fingertips. "Kiss me darling," she said.
Chapter Five
The Arcadia pulled up her anchors and steamed north and west for Istanbul at midnight. Before she left Iskenderun several things happened that were to have profound effects on the lives of some of her passengers and crew.
The shore parties had to be back aboard by 10 p.m. but crew members were due an hour earlier. Alfred Maddon climbed jauntily up the ladder from the tender, whistling softly to himself. The day had gone well. He had made contact with his usual connection and picked up a quantity of hashish and a number of flat, oiled silk sachets containing heroin and cocaine, which he had concealed in special pockets sewn below the knee inside his wide steward's pants. He had finally managed to meet -- and bribe -an area police captain whose cooperation would help him a great deal in the future. He had left the usual presents with his friends in the Customs, he had successfully carried out the little assignment demanded of him by Len Bonner, and last but by no means least there had been Fatima!
His lips curled into a reminiscent smile as he recalled the gymnastic contortions the dusky-skinned Arabian dancer had gone through to please him in the hired bedroom above the waterfront bar. Yes, it had been a good day! And what that little tart could do with her tits!
One of the first calls he received after he had secreted his small stash of contraband narcotics was from Stateroom B-7 -- the Grants' cabin. Shrugging himself hastily into his white mess jacket, he hurried along the passage and tapped on the door.
Bob Grant was alone in the cabin. Maddon . . . who had heard the best part of the young man's quarrel with his wife that morning from the other side of the door, had expected him to be drunk, maudlin, or at the very least sullen. But he appeared to be in very good spirits. He was humming gaily to himself, a razor in one hand, as he wiped the dried lather from his cheeks with a towel held in the other. Judging from the state of the bed, he had just woken up from a long sleep. That was a very odd way for a man to behave, Maddon thought, when his wife had spent the whole day ashore with someone else. Especially when that someone else was Len Bonner! If it had been his wife, he would have been hopping mad, pacing the bloody cabin until she got back!
"Evenin' Mr. Grant," Maddon said. "Can I get you something?"
"Good evening, good evening, good evening," Bob caroled happily. "Yes you can indeed. The thought just came to me that what I need is a drink. A king-size, power-packing, large and lovely drink!"
"A drink, sir. Yes sir. Did you have something special in mind?"
"I sure did, Alfred my boy! Something very special! You can bring me a large port and brandy."
"A port and brandy, sir?" Maddon permitted his eyebrows to scale two of the ridges creasing his brow. "Excuse my asking, Mr. Grant, but have you an upset stomach, sir?"
"Upset? Why certainly not! It's just that I think it's a great drink. In fact while you're about it, you'd better bring me two: I may need another later!"
"Just as you say, sir." "And Alfred . . ."
"Sir?"
"I don't suppose you could get me something to eat, could you? I was . . . er . . . kinda busy earlier, and then I fell asleep, and I guess it's too late to dine now, eh?"
"I'm afraid they stop serving dinner in the dining saloon at nine thirty," Maddon said. "And it's almost that now. I could get you a chicken sandwich or something like that. Or there's always the snack bar on "D" Deck -- it's kind of a cafeteria and it's open all night."
"A chicken sandwich it shall be. Two chicken sandwiches! I don't want to get dressed and go on out: there's . . . it . . . there's a couple of things I have to attend to right here; later on."
I'll bet there are, you randy sod! Maddon thought to himself as he bowed and left the cabin.
After he had ordered the sandwiches from the kitchen he began to prepare the two drinks. When they were ready he fished a small gelatin capsule from an inner pocket, carefully unscrewed the two halves, and emptied the fine white powder it had contained into one of the glasses.
Young Grant might protest that he had nothing wrong with his guts right now . . . but he sure would have before the night was out!
* * *
Joanna Grant and Len Bonner came aboard with a crowd of other passengers from the last tender at ten o'clock. To the girl's astonishment, the day hadn't been too bad after all. As if to disprove both her own fears and Bob's insinuations, the advertising man hadn't been the slightest bit difficult. He hadn't made a pass at her; he hadn't propositioned her or made lewdly indecent suggestions; in fact he hadn't laid a finger on her all day except for such necessary attentions as pulling out her chair in a restaurant, helping her on or off with her linen jacket, or taking her arm to pilot her across a busy street.
More than that, he had actually been an amusing companion. It seemed that he had been to Iskenderun before, once when he was handling a big account for an oil company. At any rate, he knew the town well and he was an interesting and informative guide, taking her to places off the tourist track, waiting patiently while she explored the bazaars, and insisting on buying her lunch and dinner. She had bought some souvenir trinkets for her folks and she had got hold of some real cute things for the home. They had dined in the open air, sitting under a fig tree in a patio restaurant outside the town while a band of strange stringed instruments played softly among the fireflies. Over the coffee, Len Bonner had become almost fatherly, advising her about her modeling career and . . . this was exciting! . . . promising to give her introductions to the bosses of two photographic agencies who worked for him. All in all -- she had to admit it -- she had enjoyed her day with him! Of course she had been a bit worried that morning when Mrs. Bonner had turned out to be sick, suspecting some kind of a setup and expecting the worst. But the husband couldn't have been more attentive . . . or less of a wolf. Naturally it would have been even better if Bob had been there too, but . . .
Climbing the ship's ladder with her arms laden with packages, she sighed as she thought of the quarrel that still had to be resolved. If she enthused and told him what a good time she'd had, he'd become sullen and angry again. But if she said nothing, he'd think she was holding back something disreputable and he'd get jealous and bad tempered! Oh dear, she could see she was in for a difficult time!
And if only Bob would listen, if only he'd be a little reasonable and not think he could conquer the world all on his own, she was sure Mr. Bonner could help him too. He'd spoken very kindly of Bob during lunch, which was big of him considering how rude Bob had been with them. She hoped not, or that would mean another row. He'd probably accuse her of having fixed it deliberately!
"Mr. Bonner I have to thank you for a wonderful day," she said as they walked along the promenade deck towards the companionway.
"Why, gee, that's okay Joanna," Len Bonner said. "It was a real pleasure. It was just too bad that Mrs. Bonner and your husband couldn't come along too."
"Those bazaars!" Joanna laughed. "And those cute little stalls in the markets with the merchants sitting outside among all their pots and pans! And fancy running into Alfred, the steward . . . right there in the middle of the old quarter! That was funny, don't you think?"
"Not really. I expect he has a girl tucked away there some place," Len Bonner said comfortably. "They're supposed to have one in every port. Sailors."
"So they are. But I never think of him as a sailor somehow. More like a waiter really. You don't think he was drunk, do you?"
"Drunk? Why do you say that?"
"Well, because he stumbled and fell against me. And the sidewalk was really quite wide just there. He had to grab hold of me to save himself from falling down"
"I guess he just slipped or something," Len said. "They get into pretty hot water if they misbehave on shore. And quite right too!"
They had just turned a corner one section away from their own corridor on "B" Deck when Len himself appeared to miss his step. Cannoning into the girl, he inadvertently knocked two of the packages from her arms and shot her purse out from under her elbow onto the floor.
Apologizing profusely, he stooped to retrieve the purse, handed it back to her with the packages, and then began to collect the contents of the white patent handbag which lay strewn over the deck . . . a lipstick, a handful of coins, a gold flapjack, a comb, a packet of tissues, and a small parcel wrapped in grey waxed paper.
"Thank you . . . it's quite all right . . . really . . . thank you . . . why, whatever's that?" Joanna exclaimed.
Len was rising slowly to his feet staring at the package. It was about five inches long by three inches wide and an inch deep. A corner of the waxed paper seemed to have got torn in the fall and through the gash a greenish brown substance that looked like unripe tea-leaves was trickling.
He tipped some of it into the palm of his hand and sniffed. It had a curious aromatic odor. As he raised his eyes to her face his expression was somber. "Joanna," he said severely, "I'm disappointed in you."
She was frowning in bewilderment. "I don't know what you mean."
"I know some of us older folks seem pretty square to the younger generation," he said heavily. "I understand all that stuff about freedom and liberalism and doing your own thing that you keep ramming down our throats. I don't go along with all of it, but I understand. There has to be a limit, though. You have to draw the line some place, and when it comes to smuggling dope . . ."
"Dope!" Joanna squealed. "Smuggling? whatever do you mean?"
"You're not trying to tell me you didn't know there was a package of marijuana in your purse? Look, this stuffs poison, Joanna. If you don't care about your own health, you should think of other people. It's when kids get stoned on this stuff that they experiment with the hard drugs. You should be ashamed of yourself peddling such filth!"
"But I didn't . . . I wasn't . . . I mean I didn't know," the poor girl stammered, absolutely aghast at what she was hearing.
"I suppose you picked it up from your connection when you made that excuse to leave me in the old town," Len said sadly.
"I didn't make an excuse. I wanted some things for my folks . . . I went to a curio shop. And since you'd said you had to spend ten minutes in that office with your colleagues, I thought . . . look, I swear I know nothing about that package. I've never set eyes on it before. You've got to believe me!" "I wish I could believe you," he said, shaking his head and sighing. "Look, this is a very serious offense, Joanna. Smuggling's bad enough, but smuggling hash -- that's an automatic jail sentence wherever you are.
"Mr. Bonner . . . Len. . . How can I make you understand: I didn't know!"
"It walked into your purse all on its own maybe? It's you, that doesn't understand: I have connections with the Narcotics Bureau in New York City. It's my duty to report this right away to the Captain. I'm sorry but I don't see what else I can do."
Joanna had begun to cry. "Please, please," she sobbed. "There has to be some mistake . . . somebody must have picked up my purse . . ."
"When? Where?"
"I don't know! Can't you see I know nothing about that awful package . . .? Oh please don't tell the Captain! Don't tell my husband: he'd never understand. He'd never forgive me -- he's so strait laced! I mean I . . . "You should have thought of that first," Len said sternly.
"But I haven't done anything! How can I convince you? You've got to believe me, you've just got to . . . please!"
The advertising man held a silence for an unbearable half minute, searching her tear-stained face with his eyes. Then he said dubiously: "I don't know. I just don't know. I'd sure hate for a promising young career to finish up in a women's jail. But there is the moral side to it too. I'll have to think it over."
"Oh please give me a break, Mr. Bonner," Joanna implored.
"I'll tell you my decision tomorrow morning," Len said stiffly. "In the meantime, I guess I'd better take charge of this disgusting stuff." Slipping the package into his pocket, he stalked away along the corridor.
* * *
Bob Grant was sitting with two glasses and an empty plate in front of him when Joanna, the ravages to her face partly repaired in the ladies' powder room, entered the cabin a half hour later. "Darling!" he cried. "Did you eat? How did it all go? Did you have a good time?"
"It was fine," Joanna said dully. "Just fine."
"You didn't suffer too much from the attentions of Mr. B? He didn't try to make you on the tender? He didn't proposition you in the bazaars?"
"Don't be absurd, Robert. Of course he didn't. He . . . he was very nice really; not a bit what you thought. Quite proper in fact."
A damned sight too proper, unfortunately, she mused, remembering the scene in the corridor. Of all people to find . . . but how in heaven did that incriminating packet get into her purse? How could it possibly have done so without her knowledge? And whatever was she going to do? She dare not confide in Bob . . . he was even more moral than Mr. Bonner! She was completely in the hands of her companion for the day. "In End, Mrs. Bonner didn't come with us," she said, trying to sound casual. "It seems she was sick or something."
"I know. I -- er -- I caught sight of her on deck. What have you got in all those packages?"
"Oh nothing. A few things for the apartment. Some souvenirs for my folks."
"Did you eat, honey? Or did I ask you that before?"
"Sure I ate. Twice." Joanna began listlessly stowing the packages in the closet. Her face, she saw in the looking glass, was very pale. What the hell could she do but wait for Len Bonner's "decision" tomorrow morning? God, how difficult -- and how frightening! -- life could be.
Bob was on his feet, his face covered with a huge grin. "If you already ate then, there's nothing to stop us going to bed, eh?"
Joanna looked at him. "Nothing at all, Bob.
It's a good idea. I am rather tired as it happens. I guess I'll go on in and get undressed."
She made for the bathroom door but he blocked her way. The grin on his face was wider than ever. "Oh no you don't!" he chortled.
"You undress right here in front of me! I just decided . . . there's going to be some changes made." He was standing very near to her and she could smell the heavy fumes of brandy and port on his breath.
"Robert Grant, you're drunk!" she said accusingly. "A fine thing . . . your wife goes ashore for one day to do a little marketing, and comes back to find you stinking! Now you let me past this minute or I shall--"
She broke off with a gasp as he swept her into his arms and planted a moist kiss full on her lips. She struggled to turn away her head. "Bob! Please! You smell horrible! . . . Look, if this is your way of trying to make up for that silly quarrel this morning--"
"Quarrel?" he interrupted boisterously. "I don't remember any quarrel, baby. Forget it. Just I love you, is all. And so I want to kiss you. Is that bad?" His arms tightened around her and he sought her mouth again.
She drew back her head and looked him in the eyes. "You do love me . . . and you're not angry still about my going ashore with . . . with Mr. Bonner?"
"Yes . . . and no."
"Then will you please let me go to the bathroom to get ready for bed?"
Suddenly releasing her, he moved to the door and leaned his back against it. "No," he said.
Joanna's eyebrows flew up. "What do you mean . . . no?"
"What I say. I want you to get ready . . . I want you to undress right here, in front of me."
"Now I know you're drunk!" his wife said indignantly. "What an idea! You know perfectly well that I always-"
"Yes I know you always," he interrupted again. "And I always let you. But now it's going to stop. Hell, you have a beautiful body, darling . . . is it so wrong that I should want to see it? After all, every other goddamn man on the Coast does, in magazine ads and TV commercials and I don't know what else."
"Oh let's not start going into all that again," Joanna said impatiently.
"I'm not going into anything again. I want to do something for the first time . . . like see you undressing."
For a moment longer she stared at his flushed face, and then she compressed her lips. "Very well then," she said coldly.
Angrily, she tore off her jacket and hung it in the closet. She pulled her blouse over her head and dropped it on a chair. Then she sat down and drew off her white pumps, stood up and unzipped her skirt, stepped out of that and reached up behind her to unclasp the hooks of her brassiere.
Bob watched her, fascinated. Of course the performance was hardly comparable with anything Harriet Bonner could do -- but then firstly Joanna was angry, and Number Two, she was trying deliberately not to please. All the same, he had to agree that the risk had been well worth it! He marveled afresh at the subtle curves of her hips as they contoured into the tautly flat plane of her stomach. He took delight in the firmness of her swelling thighs and the grace with which they tapered down through knee and calf to her slender ankles. He was bewitched by the modeling of her back, with its just visible arrow of blonde down pointing at the cleft between her ripely rounded buttocks.
But his greatest pleasure naturally came when she removed her bra and panties. She was unable to hide from his avidly appreciative gaze the pale triangle of softly curling pubic hair mantling her loins . . . and when, seeing his lustful look, she turned away, she afforded him an uninterrupted view of the hairy furrow between her legs as she bent over to twitch the legbands of the brief garment over her feet. Her breasts, hanging in nippled bulges from the angled plane of her chest, aroused him more then than they ever had. Inside the leg of his pants, he felt his cock jerk slowly into hardness.
When she was completely naked, she turned to face him defiantly. Her face was slightly pink and her chin was held high. "I trust you're satisfied?" she said icily.
"Why sure I am, honey. You're just beautiful. I think you're the most-"
"Then perhaps I may be permitted to go to the bathroom now?" Joanna said. "Or would you maybe like to see me take my douche? Do you want to watch me pee?"
Flushing, he opened the door and stood aside to let her pass.
Later, when they were in bed, he turned to her and said: "I just don't get it, honey. You seem to take a perfectly normal and honest pleasure in your body professionally, when you're in the studio. You get mad at me when I object to your showing it off that way. You're proud of it and I guess you're right to be proud. But when it comes to me, your own husband dammit -- then you come over all puritanical and want to hide it! Hell, sex is just as important as anything else in marriage! Maybe more so."
Joanna sighed. "Of course it's important," she said. "It's good and healthy to have sex. But there's a difference between love and lust, Bob."
He laughed a little bitterly. "Healthy!" he repeated. "It might be more important still if it could be fun as well!"
Later still, when he had kneaded and stroked and massaged her breasts and stimulated the nipples to agonized hardness, he began to caress the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt. As soon as the fleshy folds grew moist, and his fingers were sliding wetly in and out of her trembling vaginal opening, his head disappeared beneath the covers and he started shifting himself down the voluptuous length of her body. His mouth trailed damply across the softly quivering curve of her belly and his fingers clenched around her lower hips, the thumbs reaching down to splay apart her warmly throbbing cuntal lips.
"Bob!" she exclaimed sharply. "Whatever are you doing?"
"I'm only going to . . . I want to.. . use my mouth on you. I want to kiss you . . . to lick you down there!" the muffled reply came from beneath the covers.
"You are drunk!" Joanna cried. "You'll do no such thing! It's disgusting! It's . . . you come right back up here this minute!" And she tangled her fingers in his hair and hauled his head back up on the pillow.
There was no going back for Bob now. "Well if you won't let me do it to you," he said sullenly, "then you must do it to me."
"Do it to you? What are you talking about? What's come over you tonight, Bob?"
"I'll put it simply for you. I want you to suck my cock," he said brutally.
"Robert Grant! Have you gone out of your mind? I never heard of such an idea! I certainly will not. It's filthy, it's degrading, it's . . . oh, how could you suggest such a thing!"
"You've hinted more than once that I'm not . . . adventurous enough, I think you said . . . in bed." He was getting mad now. "But as soon as I do try and bring a little variety into our lovemaking, you act like a prudish old school teacher!"
"There's a difference between being adventurous and being perverted. What you're suggesting is unnatural. It isn't right. It's . . . oh, darling. I do want you to make love to me though! Come on, let's do it our usual, normal way." She snuggled her body close to him and reached for his pajama cord, sliding her hand down inside the waistband to search for what she expected would be his already hardened cock, but she was disappointed.
Bob's penis lay soft and flaccid down along his thigh. The double rebuff he had just suffered, coupled with his excesses earlier in the day in Harriet Bonner's cabin, had left him now totally without desire for normal sex!
With frantic fingers, Joanna massaged the length of the limp shaft, attempting desperately to bring it to vibrant, throbbing life in her hands. Nothing happened: the lifeless rod of flesh remained obstinately soft.
"If you were a real woman," Bob muttered angrily from the depths of his humiliation, "you'd know damned well that I was talking sense . . . and you wouldn't have any trouble seeing that I had a hard-on!"
For a moment Joanna lay in frozen silence. And then, with a muffled sob, she abruptly turned her back on him and stared into the darkness with tear-filled eyes. After her shattering experience with Len, this was just too much!
There could be only one explanation. She'd heard that some men forced their wives to indulge in these filthy and perverted practices. But Bob -- apart from a couple of half-hearted attempts to push her head down towards his loins soon after they were married had never suggested such a thing before. This sudden and unexpected interest in unnatural acts, added to the undeniable fact of his impotence, could only mean one thing . . . he must have been with another woman!
He had probably staged the quarrel deliberately to give himself an excuse to get away from her. Then he had taken a later tender and gone ashore alone when she was safely out of the way . . . to spend the day with some dirty little whore that he picked up in a waterfront bar!
Crying silently into the night, Joanna heard the Arcadia's anchors rattle up and the engines start churning as she contemplated a future that held nothing for her but the threats of the divorce court and jail!
At three o'clock in the morning, Bob Grant woke up with agonizing stomach cramps and an attack of diarrhea and vomiting. The ship's doctor diagnosed infectious enteritis and he was moved to the sick bay at once. Half an hour later Alfred Maddon gave a treble knock at the door of the Bonnets' stateroom to signal the success of the second phase of their combined operation.
Chapter Six
Len Bonner knocked on the door of the Grants' stateroom just before eleven o'clock the following morning, having allowed Joanna a nicely judged space of time in which to reflect on the illness of her husband, his extraordinary behavior in bed preceding it, and the enormity of the plight in which she found herself with regard to the smuggled package of marijuana. Bob was still feverish and under sedation in the sickroom, and by the time Len arrived, his poor wife was almost hysterical with worry and fear.
She let the door slide unresisting from her hands as he pushed past her into the cabin, and then stared at him with wide and anguished eyes. "Did you. . . what did you . . . what have you decided?" she quavered.
He turned with his back to the porthole and faced her. "I thought about it a lot, Joanna," he said gravely. "And finally I decided that, in view of your youth and apparent innocence, I would be justified in taking the most lenient standpoint possible."
"Oh thank God," she began, the tears spurting from her eyes and coursing down her cheeks. "And thank you too. I can't tell you how much I --"
"At a price," he interrupted, raising one hand. "And since then I have come into possession of information even more disturbing. Something which I may say shocks me to the core and makes me wonder whether I may not be wrong in giving you the benefit of the doubt."
"Something . . . more disturbing?" the luscious blonde repeated fearfully. "Why whatever can you mean?"
He dived his hand into the pocket of his jacket and produced a brown manila envelope and a small flat package. "This contains the consignment of dope I found in your purse," he said, holding up the latter. "Plus a covering letter to the Captain explaining how I discovered it and where. I had decided not to forward it to him . . . . until I saw this." He held up the envelope and compressed his lips. He was looking very angry.
"But . . . what is it?"
"I think you'd better see," Len Bonner said.
"And I warn you, it may be a shock to you. With trembling fingers. Joanna took the envelope as she looked at him with widely questioning eyes. Inside, there was a single 10" x 8" photographic print. "Do you recognize the woman in that picture?" he demanded.
She lowered her eyes . . . and gasped aloud. The photo showed a view of a stateroom exactly like her own. On the bed, a naked woman lay extended with her legs flung wide in an attitude of lewd abandon. There was an expression of raw animal lust on her contorted face, but the likeness was unmistakable. It was Len Bonner's wife, Harriet..
"And do you recognize the man with her?" the advertising man pursued.
Joanna burst into tears. Crouched obscenely over the woman's exposed loins, his wetly shining lips parted in a simper of depraved sexuality, was a man who had obviously just been sucking her widely-splayed and glistening pussy-flesh. His head was in profile but again there could be no mistake; it was her own husband Bob!
"Oh," she cried, "how dreadful! But there must . . . there must be some mistake! I can't believe it!"
"Your husband in bed with my wife," Len said grimly. "While we were innocently enjoying ourselves ashore -- this is what happens!"
"I can't believe it!" Joanna repeated tearfully. "How could they! What . . . how did you get that photograph?"
"Never mind that now. Naturally I questioned Harriet. It seems your husband discovered she was still on the ship, plied her with drink, and then -- when she hardly knew what she was doing -- followed her to our cabin and forced himself upon her. As you see.
"She doesn't exactly look as though she's being forced," Joanna said primly. "But even so I can't believe Bob would do such a thing. I can't."
"You only have to believe your eyes," Len said. "Look at the photo. The point is . . . . what are you going to do?"
"Yes, you. Or rather what are we going to do about keeping this disgraceful piece of information . . . and what I found out yesterday as well from the Captain?"
"F-f-from the Captain?" Joanna quavered.
"Certainly. I could file this with him as evidence in a divorce case. I certainly feel like doing so right now. And then there's the other matter. I'm not at all sure I feel as leniently disposed towards you now as I did."
"Oh, please," the poor girl entreated. "Please can't we do something? I don't want to go to jail. I don't want my marriage ruined, I don't want to be dragged through the divorce courts. Please I'll do anything."
Her mind was in a whirl, incapable of reasoning because of the successive, shattering blows dealt to her by a cruel fortune. She didn't know which way to turn. For although her lips repeated endlessly that she did not, could not believe what she saw on the photo, in fact she could believe it only too well . . . this was the reason why Bob had been impotent last night; this explained his sudden and unexpected interest in the more perverse forms of love; it was here, aboard the Arcadia, that he had been unfaithful . . . and not with some anonymous floozy in the port! Through the emotional pain that was wracking her mind, tearing her to pieces inside, she saw only one thing clearly: whatever he had done, she loved Bob. However despicably he had behaved, she still wanted him. At whatever cost, she had to save their marriage . . . and to this resolve too was added the determination to hide from Bob, whatever happened, the awful disaster with the mysterious package of marijuana that had appeared in her purse last night.
Len Bonner was breathing heavily. His face was slightly flushed. "It's all very well to say you'll do anything," he said. "But the fact remains, your husband has raped my wife."
Has he indeed? I wonder, Joanna thought to herself. It couldn't be, I suppose, that the boot was on the other foot? But the evidence was in her hand. There was nothing she could say.
Len Bonner watched with an inward and sadistic satisfaction the horrified and helpless expressions chase themselves over the girl's face. By God, he'd like to grab her now and throw it to her right here on her own bunk while she still had the picture between her fingers! But he knew women well enough to realize that the time was not yet ripe. She was still in shock and she had to be allowed time for the anger to set in. There was nothing a wronged woman wouldn't do to revenge herself on an errant husband, he figured, not matter how strait-laced she might be under normal circumstances . . . . and when that impulse was coupled with the desire to avoid discovery in the commission of a crime . . . well, he could hardly lose, could he?
"So what are we going to do about it?" he repeated.
"Oh God, oh God, I don't know," Joanna blurted out, dropping her head into her hands and sobbing like a child. "I . . . I just didn't think Bob . . . could . . . could ever do such a thing to me!"
Len watched the voluptuous quivering of her breasts as she sobbed into her hands. He could feel small beads of perspiration breaking out on his upper lips as he studied their ripely swelling fullness beneath her flowered cotton dress. It was all he could do not to tear the thin garment away from those deliciously taut mounds of flesh right now. Obscene thoughts of how tight her wet little pussy would be flickered through his mind. But no -- he must not spoil it now; what he had in mind for later would be even better.
"I . . . I guess you think I'm a complete idiot carrying on this way, Mr. Bonner." Joanna stuttered after a moment.
"Why certainly not," he said with an assumed solicitousness. "Nobody could blame you for being upset . . . and angry . . . after what you just saw. I feel the same way."
"Oh God, of course. I feel so stupid," she said in a voice hoarse from crying. "I was so shocked, I didn't even stop to think how you must feel.
After all, it was your wife he was . . . was . . . doing it to."
"Exactly. You can imagine that I feel equally angry and upset."
"But w-w-what are you going to do about it?" the distressed blonde asked hesitantly. She could feel her composure returning now that the initial shock had worn off a little and her humiliation was gradually turning into a slow, seething anger.
For a moment Len Bonner paused. This was where he had to play it real cool. This was where he had to change identities -- from the paternal, more-in-sorrow-than-anger older man to the vengeful wronged husband, determined to get his own back at all costs. Or to put it another way, he was about to stop play acting and do it for real!
"This may shock you again," he said brusquely, "but I believe in an eye for an eye.
"I'm not sure that I know what you mean," the girl faltered.
"I mean, to put it brutally, that you are a very attractive woman -- and the only thing that would salve my pride as a husband would be for you to come to my cabin this afternoon." There! He had said it!
He watched her through half-closed eyes as she paled visibly. "What! Do you . . . do you . . . but you can't mean what I think you mean!" she gasped.
"If you do," he went on, pressing his advantage remorselessly, "then of course we would be in a kind of way conspirators together. And in that case naturally I could hardly take any steps in this other matter." He picked up the package containing marijuana and his letter to the captain.
For a moment Joanna stared at him unbelievingly. Her mouth had dropped open and her eyes were wide with consternation. Before the idea had time to sink in he added: "If you don't, I see no alternative And he held up the package and plucked the envelope and the photograph from her nerveless fingers. Then, before the luckless girl had time to protest, he had turned and walked to the cabin door. "I'll give you until three o'clock to make up your mind," he said harshly. "If you haven't appeared by then, then I'm afraid these two communications will be on their way up to the bridge."
Jerking open the door, he left the stateroom without another look.
* * *
At two minutes to three, Joanna Grant hesitated outside Stateroom B- 2. Her mind was in a whirl. She had been to visit Bob again in the sick bay at lunch time . . . but he was still tossing and turning, groaning with fever and in no state to talk. The dreadful decision confronting her had to be made all on her own. Horrified by the inexplicable mystery of the incriminating package in her purse, her fears for her future and Bob's already compromised by the proof of his infidelity, she felt in her anguish that she had no choice. If she wished to save her marriage, she had no alternative but to yield to Len Bonner's blackmailing demands -- whatever they might be.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she raised a tremulous hand and knocked.
The door opened at once. Len was dressed in a loose toweling robe lightly tied about his waist. There was a cigar between his lips.
"Ah!" he exclaimed- "So you decided to play it my way! That's a sensible girl! I'm sure you won't be sorry . . . and this way there's a chance we'll both get a bit of fun out of it, too!"
"Mr. Bonnet . . . Len I'm not sure that I quite understand what you want me to do . . . Joanna began tearfully as he closed the door behind her.
He laid his smoking cigar in an ashtray and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh no? Don't try to kid me, Joanna -- I think you know very well . . !"
"I-I-I don't know what you mean," she faltered.
"I guess you better have a drink, honey," Len said. He walked across to the table beneath the porthole and picked up two glasses of a milky, greenish liquid. Through the half-closed drapes she could see the bright blue sea gliding past as the Arcadia steamed along parallel with the distant coastline.
"What is it?" Joanna asked curiously, her fears for the moment forgotten as she stared at the opaque fluid in the half light of the cabin.
"It's Pernod. It won't do you any harm in fact it'll do you a lot of good," Len said.
She gulped down the cold, aromatic drink almost in a single swallow. It tasted faintly of licorice, and it left a mellow glow in her throat. But it didn't seem very strong.
That was good! I was thirsty!" she "Mmmmmmm! said. "Could I . . . could I have another?"
"Sure thing, baby. I'll fix you one right away He poured half a tumbler of pale, clear liquid from a bottle with a blue and white label and added a dash of water to turn it cloudy.
Joanna took another big swallow and turned to face him. "Just what do you have in mind?" she asked, her confidence returning slightly. It was soon to be dashed.
"Your husband's been fucking my wife," he said coarsely. "I told you I believed in an eye for an eye. I'm going to fuck you, that's all."
Joanna gazed at him petrified. Nervously she drained her glass and set it down with a shaking hand. "You can't be serious!" she quavered.
"I was never more serious in my life, baby."
"Oh God," she whimpered. "No . . . we can't, we can't."
Reaching for her, he pulled her roughly towards him and crushed her hard against his body. He ground his pelvis hard into hem, sliding his hand down to the soft smooth roundness of her buttocks and pulled her loins tight up against him. She tried to squirm away from him but his strength was too much for her and his wet lips clamped firmly over her mouth. She twisted her head violently away to sob, "Please, please . . .
"Why not?" Len demanded. "Like I said, your husband's laying my wife . . . why shouldn't I even the score and lay his, by God?"
"Oh please don't do it to me," the frightened young blonde pleaded, tears welling into her eyes once more. He had her in a position where she couldn't fight back and he knew it. If she resisted too strongly, both Bob and the captain would be brought into the affair and all her chances of future happiness would be mined forever. Oh, why had she insisted on that damned trip ashore when Bob had asked her not to go? Why hadn't she been satisfied to please her husband instead of selfishly demanding that she must have her own way?
Her body stiffened as she felt Len begin massaging the softly rounded cheeks of her buttocks through the thin material of her dress. He ground against her again, his mouth still locked wetly to hers, and she gasped and held her breath as she felt the rising hardness beneath his terrycloth robe pressing into her own unwillingly moistening loins. The sweet licorice flavor of the Pernod wafted lazily through her bloodstream, intensifying the sudden uncontrolled sensations flickering unbidden through her captive flesh. Clenching her eyes tightly shut she fought against them with all her strength, but the muscled fingers of his hand tweaking suddenly against her nipple, and the hardness of his penis grinding into her awakening pussy, combined to bring the low moans of helpless submission tumbling from her lips. Her very helplessness and the thought of her own husband making love to this man's wife on that bunk only a few feet away from her were too much for the tortured girl's mind.
"God, but you're built, baby," Len breathed moistly. "I'm sure going to enjoy this particular little swap!"
"Oh don't, please don't," Joanna cried as she felt the lewdly exciting feelings ripple over her reluctant skin: "N-n-no one but my husband has ever done it to me before."
"There's got to be a first time for everything, doll," he chuckled, insinuating his hand between their tightly merged bodies to the trembling flatness of her belly.
"Don't touch me there! Please don't!" the girl almost screamed. "No, no, you've got to stop it! I can't be unfaithful to my husband . . ." Her body jerked slightly as she felt Len's fingers lifting the material of her dress up the front of her thighs. She moaned and tried again to pull away, using all her will power to overcome the strange sensations building up against her will deep in the pit of her stomach.
"Baby, I'm gonna fuck you and fuck you good," Len was saying. "that'll maybe teach that husband of yours to keep his prick in his pants around my wife." He grinned at her evilly. "You ain't ever going to be satisfied with what you're getting at home again!"
Joanna held her breath as she felt the hem of her dress reach the top of her thighs and his fingers came into contact with the tender softness of her naked flesh. An electrifying shock seared through her weakening legs as he slipped his middle finger slowly under the tight elastic legband of her panties. She arched back a little, whining helplessly, as his probing fingertip found the narrow sensitive slit of her moistening vagina and thrust gently into it, parting the soft pubic hair and making sudden electrifying contact with the tiny throbbing head of her clitoris. It was wet and slippery from the unwanted desire that now permeated her loins and she sucked in her breath tightly to hold back the groan of pleasure she felt building deep in her chest.
Something . . . something absolutely impossible was happening inside of her! She was actually experiencing wild tremors of excitement in contrast with her deep feelings of shame and revulsion at his lewd assault on her helpless flesh! There was nothing she could do and tears of humiliation cascaded warmly down her face as she found herself thus reacting involuntarily to the maddening caresses of her breasts and vagina. She was wet there between her legs and she found to her horror that her hips were unconsciously undulating in response to the light teasing of his finger rummaging between her thighs.
"Spread `em a little, baby," Len breathed harshly into her mouth. "Daddy wants it opened wide."
As his tongue smashed lustfully between her lips and against her teeth, he played the throbbing bulge of his cock hard into the quivering softness of her belly . . . and suddenly she could bear it no longer. Tearing herself out of his obscene embrace she dashed wildly for the door, grabbed the knob, and tried with all her strength to pull it open.
But the door was locked.
Len Bonner laughed behind her as she struggled vainly, desperately, with the unyielding handle. Finally, realizing the futility of her efforts, she sagged forward against the panels sobbing helplessly. "Oh, please let me out! Please!" she whimpered. "I'll do anything . . . anything but this. I-I can't go through with it. I just can't."
"Too late now, baby," he said with a cruelly triumphant grin. "An eye for an eye, remember. Besides, what the hell are you complaining about? Don't you think we ought to get even with those two?"
"Yes, yes . . . but not like this. Couldn't we sit down with them and talk it out later?" she pleaded tearfully.
"Not on your sweet life! Old Len don't play that way. Besides, I've been looking forward to this ever since I saw you up on the deck-tennis court in those tight assed little shorts of yours! Man, what a picture you made in those!"
She stared at him in horror. "Y-y-you mean . . . you thought about this . . . before?"
"Hell, yes," he gloated. "You gotta be an opportunist in this life! You don't really think I give a shit whether or not you peddle hash, do you?" It was not part of the ad man's plan to reveal that the whole affair of the package of marijuana was an elaborate plant just now. That could come later when the girl and her husband were both fully initiated! For the moment he had to keep a hold over her. "But I'd turn you in to the captain just the same," he added menacingly, to make sure the little bitch got the point.
Untying the belt around his waist, he shrugged out of the robe and allowed it to fall to the ground, standing before her completely naked, his thick hard cock standing out lewdly from beneath the slight paunch he was beginning to develop like the threatening shaft of a heavy blunt spear.
Joanna pressed herself tightly back against the door as he turned towards her and with an obscene smile on his lips began stroking the heavy uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the huge bulbous head.
She wanted to close her eyes to shut out the honor, but she was frightened that he would approach her without her knowing it. He was still grinning, gloating, evidently enjoying the brutal torment he was subjecting her to. He was a sadist, and like a trapped animal she watched the faint glint of cruelty in his eye as it brightened to a glow.
"Like the look of it?" he leered, continuing to stroke his massive organ. "I bet your husband never had anything like that to stuff up you!"
Joanna tried to speak but no words came from her stiff lips. She was completely frozen against the door, paralyzed with fear as she stared at the lewd man obscenely playing with himself. Against her will, her eyes dropped again to the hard fleshy instrument he was holding in his hand.
My God, it was thick!
Despite her fear she found herself wondering how a woman could take such a thing up inside of her without being completely split apart.
With his barrel chest and his muscled thighs and his huge cock, Len Bonner was built and he knew it! For a moment longer he stood reveling in the fear induced in the poor girl by the size of his penis -- and then he started slowly towards her. "Are you gonna take those clothes off?" he demanded. "Or do I have to do it for you?"
"D-d-d-don't touch me!" Joanna squealed.
She knew there was no escape now. He was going to ravish her helpless body no matter how hard she pleaded for mercy. I-I-I'll scream for help!" she cried desperately.
"Go right ahead! Everyone's up on deck watching the deck-tennis semifinals. There ain't nobody down here but the steward -- and he's a buddy of mine."
It was only too true. She and Bob should have been in those semifinals right now. She'd scratched their names from the list on account of his illness only half an hour ago. As for Alfred Maddon . . . well, she'd always known there was something screwy about that man! No -- there was no hope left. There was nothing she could do against Len Bonner's strength. She was alone and completely at his mercy.
He reached out with his thick meaty hands and with a sudden grab he spun her around so that her back was towards him. The next moment, the zipper at the back of her dress was jerked open down to the top of her buttocks. She could feel the cool rush of air from a ventilator against her skin as he pulled the garment from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a soft heap around her ankles. The snaps of her brassiere came next. She heard him mutter a faint sigh of lustful appreciation as he dropped it to the floor beside the dress and her firm full breasts burst into the open air. Then he dropped to his knees behind her as she swayed above him, and hooked his fingers roughly in the elastic waistband of her white nylon panties to pull them down over the softness of her taut round buttocks and then let them fall among the other clothes at her feet.
There was nothing left, She stood before him totally naked, almost losing her balance as he placed his hands on the fleshy swell of her hips and spun her round to face him again. Abruptly she felt the pressure of his lips nibbling damply at the naked flesh of her belly. The sudden wet contact sent a chill racing the length of her spine and she automatically reached forward with her hands, locking them into his hair to keep from falling. Mistaking this for unconditional surrender, he dropped his mouth to the blonde-covered "vee" of her crotch, spreading the softly curling pubic hair with his thumbs and darting his tongue lizard-like up into the flowering slit of her vagina.
Joanna jumped from the sudden electrifying contact with the tiny swollen bud of her clitoris, losing her balance completely this time and falling backwards towards the bunk. The edge of the frame caught her behind the knees and she sprawled flat on her back, her legs opening wide as she landed on the covers.
Len Bonner leaped forward and trapped her in that position as she kicked out to close her legs. He clamped his sweating palms against the soft inner flesh of her thighs and held them spread apart, his thumbs resting on the hair-lined folds of her cunt. The moist pink flesh of her naked vagina was offered up to his leering gaze in defenseless sacrifice as the young blonde wife lay frozen to the mattress, her humiliation complete, watching with abject terror on her face as the advertising executive's tongue circled his lips in preparation for the ravishment about to take place.
With a slow torturing outward movement of the thumbs, Bonner drew the glistening pink pussy-lips apart, exposing the hot wet cuntal slit to his lustful eyes. He stared at it greedily for a moment and then with an animal groan, dropped his head and buried the full length of his long slippery tongue into the wanly throbbing walls of her pussy.
Joanna jerked, a soul-searing moan tearing itself from her lips. Her buttocks ground down into the mattress, trying to escape the maddening assault on her most secret flesh. Her head was up off the bunk, watching in horrified disbelief as his head rocked up and down in greedy feast between her legs.
"It can't be! It can't!" she whimpered before his depraved attack, her head falling back onto the mattress and flailing from side to side as his tongue speared in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her cunt.
And yet, in spite of her terror and revulsion at the degrading things being done to her defenseless loins, those tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure began again to ripple deep in her belly. Her arms lay tensed at her sides as her firmly rounded breasts quivered from the buffeting her body was undergoing. Len's hands reached up over the smooth white flatness of her trembling belly and dug harshly into the fleshy softness of her breasts, his fingers rolling the hardening nipples between them in relentless fury. As his mouth and tongue worked in obscene ravishment at the widespread tightness of Joanna's cunt, his eyes remained open -watching in arrogant delight the contortions of her face up through the shuddering white mounds of her breasts. He was waiting, waiting for the first signs of surrender that he knew must come.
The naked blonde lay frozen in abject submission with great tears of shame and humiliation welling from her light blue eyes. Random images of her unfaithful husband flickered through her mind as she listened to the lewd wet sucking noises Len Bonner was making down there between her helplessly trapped legs. Oh God, how could she ever face Bob again after allowing herself to be subjected to the depraved attacks of this cruel inhuman man? Whatever Bob had done himself, at least he had done it of his own free will. But she was being humiliated beyond her wildest imagination and there was nothing she could do but lie back and suffer it. Oh God, why did Bob have to make love to this monster's wife! Why did he have to deceive her and leave her at the mercy of this lust-crazed beast! Joanna had never felt so alone and defenseless in her whole life.
Bonner's eyes remained locked on Joanna Grant's face as he continued the torturing thrusts of his tongue into her wide-held vagina. With cruel satisfaction he watched the tears flowing down her cheeks, the goddamn little bitch . . . she and her husband thought they were too good for Len Bonner, did they? Well, the young punk had already gotten his from Harriet. Now he was going to show the girl! Before he'd finished with her, she'd be crawling on her knees begging for more! And by God he'd see that she got it! Chuckling to himself, he brought his hands down and pushed them under the backs of the knees splayed out wide on either side of him. He lifted and pushed them up and over her body so that her shapely thighs ground into her breasts and exposed the whole flat plane of her hair-fringed cunt to his lustful stare. This would get her, he grinned . . . and he flicked the tip of his tongue into the tightly puckered hole of her anus nestled just below the opening of her vagina.
The unexpected contact with the sensitive rubbery orifice brought a long low moan of anguish from the young girl's lips. "Oooooooooh, God! No! No! Please don't!" she whimpered, trying desperately to screw her buttocks back down from the hotly probing tongue licking mercilessly at her anus. His only answer was a lewd chuckle -- and a further stab into the tight fleshy nether ring.
Joanna sobbed in desperation before his depraved attack . . . and then suddenly, in spite of the humiliation, in spite of the horror and revulsion, she felt her body begin to desert her. Her buttocks jerked back involuntarily toward the darting tongue sending helpless spasms of erotic sensations throbbing through her raw nerve ends.
"Oh no! I can't! I can't!" she cried aloud. The full realization of her loss of control suddenly hit her with its full impact, bringing further moans of misery and humiliation at the thought, not only of the obscene and perverted adultery she was committing with another man, but more frightening and shaming still -- of the fact that her body was beginning to enjoy it! Clenching her teeth she fought with all her will against the tiny little licking flames of pleasure that threatened to burst into sudden uncontrollable flame and devour her in her helplessness. But with Len Bonner slavering ceaselessly over her naked loins below, it was a losing battle.
After a desperate and confused struggle in her tortured mind, the dam burst.
Her shamelessly aroused body jerked spasmodically and then began a slow abandoned movement up against his thrusting tongue. Her hands curled down into his hair and her fingers clenched there. Forgotten were the thoughts of Bob, forgotten the humiliation: all that mattered now were the delicious shafts of forbidden desire piercing through her flesh like tiny pricking needles of fire.
She lay locked fast in an alcoholic haze, squirming and bucking under the maddening teasing of Len's tongue until she thought the pounding of her heart would break through her chest. The effect of the two huge glasses of Pernod she had swallowed so quickly was dazing and relaxing her, and she raised her head again to watch his face, her hands laced behind his head to pull the punishing lash of his tongue deeper and deeper into her. It seemed as though the delicious sucking of her anus and vagina had gone on forever when suddenly Len forced his head free of the restraining grasp of her hands and kneeled up between her open thighs. There was a triumphant smile on his lips.
"Now I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he breathed. "Just like your husband did my wife . . . only better!"
Joanna lay suddenly still, her softly trembling thighs splayed wide, her breath coming so fast she was afraid her lungs would burst. Her belly was heaving as though he already had the long thick cock jutting from his loins sunk deep up inside her.
His eyes were still hard and cruel in the greed of his desire. "I'm gonna screw you like you've never been screwed before," he snarled. "I'm gonna fuck you until you scream! I want to see you twist and squirm when this cock of mine sinks into your belly. I want to hear you beg and pray for it!" Grinning in triumph, he raised himself above her and added: "Spread your legs wide, baby. I'm comm'in now!"
Quivering half in fear and half in anticipation, Joanna obeyed his lewd order as Len levered up over her, his arms stiff, his hands resting on her shoulders. Then he dropped one hand down between their panting bodies to take the rigidly throbbing cock between his fingers and guide it forward, using the thick rubbery head to part the fleshy lips of her cunt. She rolled her head to one side with a shudder as she felt its softly thrilling contact against the moist sensitive edges of her wet pussy. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity, lying motionless in utter subjugation beneath him, and then, "Ooooooooooh!" she breathed as she felt the first hard pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vagina.
Flexing his hips, he pushed hard.
"Aaaaaaaagh!" she coughed as the blood-swollen tip forced its way through, cruelly stretching the tight rubbery opening until Joanna felt as though her thighs were splitting apart from the relentless pressure.
Suddenly the grin on his face faded and a contorted expression of sheer raw lust replaced it. He could stand it no more, watching this helpless, innocent young wife spread-eagled beneath him as he teased her with the head of his cock disappearing into the hair of her pussy.
He had to fuck her . . . and he had to fuck her now!
He fell forward, his full weight smashing her warmly swelling breasts back tight against her chest. He thrust his hips forward at the same time and his long thick penis slid pulsatingly up into her cunt, pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it until his balls smacked heavily into the upturned cheeks of her buttocks.
"Oh God! Oh God," she screamed beneath him. "You're hurting me!" She had never been so filled in her life and his cock felt as though it had ripped her vagina into a thousand shreds as he speared mercilessly into her. And now, now it lay deep inside her belly filling every part of her tender insides. There was not one tiny ridge of flesh, not a throbbing vein on its thick shaft that she could not feel as it stretched the fear-constricted flesh of her cunt, enclosed in the moist warm sheath like a sword slicing into its victim's belly.
"Like it?" he grinned in lewd delight, reveling in the agonized expression on her face. "I said, `Like it, baby'?" he repeated. Far up inside her vagina he flexed the cruel cock-head.
"Ooooooh! Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now to offend him. The pain was just too unbearable.
"Beg me, then," he hissed contemptuously.
"W-w-what do you mean?"
"Beg me to fuck you! Now!" Again he flexed the huge member deep in her quivering belly.
"Oh God, don't! Don't! I can't-" Joanna fought with all her strength and courage to escape this one final humiliation. This, she knew, would be the ultimate surrender. It was the only thing she had left. He had taken everything else . . . her pride, her fidelity to her husband, her self respect, her hope, everything was gone. She couldn't let him have the pleasure of hearing her beg as well, She just couldn't.
He throbbed his cock deeper, digging his fingers savagely into the softness of her shoulders at the same time. "Do it," he commanded fiercely. "Beg me, you bitch!"
"Oooooh God," she sobbed, her resistance broken by the pain and the helplessness of her position. "All right . . . do it to me; do it to me."
"Not like that! Say, fuck me," he demanded.
"Oh, fuck me!" she hissed through clenched teeth, tears gushing from her eyes as she spat out the lewd, obscene words. Her degradation was complete. She would never be the same again. She had allowed herself to lose control over all the things she knew were right and now she wished she were dead. She could never face Bob again with the innocence she had before, no matter what he had done himself. There was no hope for her anymore. She was a whore now . . . she was a whore!
The bitter words bored into her mind. She was lost! Lost! This cruelly scheming man had taken everything that was good and right away from her. There was nothing left for her now, nothing but the huge fleshy instrument buried deep inside her burning vagina.
Len Bonner sensed the evaporation of the last remaining dregs of resistance in her, and clamping his wet lips suddenly down over her mouth he began a slow rocking motion in between her thighs. He could feel the narrow cuntal passage widening slightly with each measured stroke as she groaned in helpless defeat beneath him. It wouldn't take long to turn this prim, soft-bodied young blonde into a raw, squealing mass of frantic desire. He had felt it by the way in which, loosened a little by the liquor he had fed her, she had reacted to his earlier ploys. Even though she had resisted him and was convinced in her own mind that she was a sweet conservative wife, true to her husband in all respects, lie could detect a latent hot streak in her that had just never been turned on. Well, he'd make sure she got turned on today all right!
Joanna's body had involuntarily begun to react again. There was really no longer any reason to fight the lewdly flaming fires of desire consuming her. She had lost the battle against the obscenely exciting feelings; now even the thought of her own total surrender sent chills of perverse delight up her spine as she felt the slow rhythm of Len Bonner's cock begin skewering wetly into her.
Her whole body twitched and writhed traitorously beneath him and she groaned incessantly up into the wetness of his mouth, thrusting her tongue with a sudden complete abandon hard against his. Her face was contorted with servile passion, mouth working, neck straining, nostrils flared, a light perspiration breaking out on her forehead under the disheveled blonde hair. The pain in her loins was forgotten now and her legs on either side of his rigidly impaling rod were jerking and shuddering with increasingly uncontrolled desire. She no longer thought of anything but the delicious erotic sensation of lying beneath this man who was fucking her against her will, and of giving back to him what he was giving her.
Len slaved above her, moving now into longer, smoother strokes that brought his lust-inflamed cock almost all the way out of her clasping pussy-flesh on the backstroke and then plunging forward harshly into her upraised loins again until she could feel the heavy slap of his balls against the unprotected crevice of her anus.
He fondled and stroked the contracting lips of her vagina where he entered her, feeling the moist hair-lined folds clasp tightly to his rampaging cock, flowering open in greedy desire to swallow the whole of it and then closing around it. Then he jerked his hips violently back, pulling his massive penis out of her now protesting cunt with an obscene wet sluicing sound.
Joanna, brought abruptly back to reality from the transports of erotic delight in which she had been soaring, raised her head with a gasp of surprise. He was standing beside the bunk, his bluntly inflamed cock swaying above his sperm-bloated testicles, a thinly glistening thread of seminal fluid still joining the blood-gorged head to the gaping wet cavern of her ravaged cunt.
"Get your legs up on the bed and roll over on your tits," he commanded harshly.
"W-w-w-what do you mean?" She stared at him in blank incomprehension.
"Do as I say. You could do with a little exercise some place else. I'm coming in the back way, baby."
"Oh no! Not that!" she whimpered as the full realization of the horrible, indecent ravishment he was proposing burst in her mind. "Please don't do it to me there! Not like that! You can't . . . it's . . .it's inhuman!"
He bent down and seized her legs, yanking them roughly up and over the bed, at the same time twisting her around so that she was flung face-downwards on the mattress with her buttocks waving high in the air behind her. As she sobbed helplessly into the pillow, he kneeled up between her widespread thighs and forced them ruthlessly apart with his knees. "Reach back behind you and spread the cheeks of your ass," he snarled.
"I can't . . . You can't do this to me! Please, please-" She broke off with a squeal of pain as he brought his open hand cracking viciously down across her buttocks, leaving the red welts of fingermarks flaming on the trembling milk-white flesh.
"Do what you're told, you bitch!"
Her chest racked with heaving sobs, the defenseless girl moved her shaking hands back over the softly fleshed mounds and reluctantly dragged them apart, exposing the tiny puckered hole of her anus nestling in its narrow furrow. She couldn't believe that he would really do such a bestial thing to her! It was monstrous! It was the ultimate depth of degradation! Surely he was just trying to intimidate her, to make her crawl and plead with him! It couldn't be true that he wanted to make love to her . . . there!
She felt his finger poking obscenely at her unprotected anus and jerked automatically away from the sudden pain. "Relax!" he hissed threateningly. "And keep that ass spread out!"
Joanna felt the tip of his finger again at the nakedly exposed entrance to her rectum and she desperately clenched the tiny puckered ring tight in an attempt to delay the brutal penetration she knew must be coming. Len probed for a moment at the outer edges of the small elastic circle and then, with a grunt, he shoved his middle finger hard into the warm velvety passage.
Moans of futile protest forced their way through the helpless blonde's clenched teeth as he forced his finger deeper and deeper, expanding the tightness of her nether passage until she thought she would faint from the cruel invasion. He began to move the finger around and around deep inside her, sawing it in and out to stretch the tiny anus in preparation for the greater entry to follow.
A flicker of surprised pleasure passed suddenly over Joanna's face as the pain gradually faded and a strangely enjoyable sensation took its place. She couldn't believe that it could feel so good, but it did, sending wild thrills of perverse pleasure rocketing through her loins. Her mouth opened and she began to pant and mewl as the advertising man's finger worked around and round deep inside her wide-stretched rectum.
As suddenly as he had plunged the finger in, Len Bonner dragged it out again. Forcing his hand down between Joanna's belly and the mattress he stroked his fingers back along the warm slippery length of her vaginal furrow and smeared the moisture up and around her plundered anus to lubricate the cringing orifice. An instant later she felt the hard rubbery tip of his cock pressing against the tight, hairless opening of her anus.
The lewdly kneeling young wife held her breath as she felt it begin to thrust. Oh God, it was huge! She would never be able to take it in her rectum without her belly being torn apart!
The muscles on Len Bonner's stomach tensed visibly as he strained forward, and Joanna felt the soft probing between her buttocks grow into a hard unresistable pressure against the tight rubbery nether ring. "Ooooooooh! God, no! Pleeeeeease! Aaaaaaaagh!" she pleaded as the interfolded circle of flesh suddenly gave way and the huge bulbous cock-head surged inside with a plunging rush. A spasm of pain so unbearable shot through her that she twisted and screamed again and again, trying with all her strength to evade the bestial impalement. She was writhing like an animal caught in a trap, thrashing about to escape, but her movements only served to wedge the thickly distended penis more securely in her tortured back passage.
Len seized the edges of the pillow and pulled it forcibly up against her contorted face to muffle her cries. At the same time his pounding thighs forced the lust-swollen cock another inch -- and then another -- up into her helplessly impaled anus. Joanna could scarcely think. Everything she did brought pain and more pain. It was as though a monstrous battering ram was being relentlessly shoved into the tiny opening of her virginal rectum.
Suddenly the advertising man's loins smacked heavily into the softness of her hand-spread buttocks. The punishing instrument of his penis was buried to the hilt in her almost split anus. She was hopelessly skewered on the cruel thickness of Len Bonner's cock.
Panting hoarsely behind her, he began to saw rhythmically deep into the soft rubbery depths of her back passage as she groaned in anguish and continued to fight with wild desperation against the horror and degradation of the depraved attack on her defenseless rectum. Then with a final moan of surrender her strength failed and her voluptuous white body subsided limply onto the bunk, impaled on the stone-hard penis like a pinned insect. As soon as she collapsed, Len seized her elbows and, still keeping his hotly throbbing cock buried deep in her rectum, rolled onto his back, pulling her over on top of him. She was now lying lewdly spread-eagled, face upward, her shoulders resting on his hairy chest, his cock thrusting up into her anus from underneath. His hands snaked around to cup the softly swelling mounds of her breasts above him, and his knees came up slightly between her legs to keep her thighs spread.
It was while they were lying like this on the bunk that Harriet Bonner in her turn emerged from her hiding place behind the crack in the half-open bathroom door and came into the room.
She was completely naked and her eyes were glistening with excitement. She had watched the entire scene of debauchery with her fingers rubbing frenziedly at the swollen clitoris pulsing wildly between her parted legs. Now, with nipples darkly erect in the center of her voluptuous breasts, she was coming in for the kill! She gazed for an electrifying moment at the erotic tableau on the bed. Joanna's head had fallen backward over Len Bonner's shoulder. Her mouth opened and shut as the mewling sounds of pleasure and pain forced their way out through her trembling lips. Her full, firmly-set breasts rose and fell spasmodically under his imprisoning fingers. And between her spread legs, the thickly gleaming stump of his vast cock disappeared into her stretched anus below the still gaping aperture of her ravaged and glistening cunt.
Harriet stared greedily at the defenselessly splayed pussy-flesh with its wet blonde hair-lined lips, at the rigidly pulsing shaft of her husband's penis buried below it, and at the cum-bloated pouch of his balls resting on the covers between his thighs. Then, with a soft inarticulate cry, she hurled herself down on the bunk and advanced her lustful lips towards the pair of steaming loins spread obscenely wide before her.
Taking Len's testicles in her mouth, she rolled the sperm-swollen glands softly around her tongue and then licked slowly up the bulging thickness of his throbbing stump, on through the moistly folded pink flanges of Joanna's cunt, and up to the inflamed and swollen bud of the young girl's clitoris.
Seeing her come in, Len had briefly raised his head to grin and wink at his wife. But for Joanna, the searing contact of the older woman's tongue was the first evidence the captive blonde had that a third person had joined them. She jerked violently, her loins arching up with an unbearable tingle of unwanted erotic excitement as the depraved brunette's tongue licked forcefully up and down the whole passion-moistened furrow of her pussy, on to the huge penis fucking into her anus, and then back up to her quivering clitoris again.
At the same time Len began a slow and ruthless plunging into her cruelly stretched anal passage, pulling tiny pink ridges of clasping flesh back out with the base of his cock each time he withdrew for another vicious lunge inside.
Between them, the husband and wife worked in slavering rhythm over the whole sensitive area of Joanna's obscenely exposed loins. Harriet sucked and licked and mewled and nibbled at the berserk girl's hotly shuddering cunt. Len rammed his iron-hard cudgel deeper and deeper up into her bowels, the throbbing head feeling as though it was about to burst apart in the vise-like grip of the ravished blonde's tight rubbery rectum.
Joanna suddenly began grinding her skewered buttocks savagely back against his pounding thrusts. There was no longer any pain, no shame, no humiliation . . . only the unbidden and delicious shafts of soul-destroying erotic passion that flamed through and through her quivering body begging for more and more and more . . .
Harriet was wildly fingering her own cunt as she speared her tongue far up into the hot depths of Joanna's vaginal passage. And suddenly, over the fierce grinding of her husband's loins, she felt the young blonde tense and quiver uncontrollably. Joanna's hands darted down to cradle Harriet's face as she sucked furiously at her pussy. Her back arched up off Len's hips and she cried frenziedly: "Oh God! Oh God! I'm cumming! . . . I'm cumming! . . . Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
The older woman felt Joanna's cunt flaring open still wider around her sucking lips and warm gushes of hot sticky liquid flooded into her mouth and down over the pistoning cock below it. Simultaneously Len uttered a hoarse cry and his hands began clawing Joanna's breasts in wild abandon as his penis jerked convulsively and the first powerful wave of his hot, thick cum squirted far up into the velvet depths of her rectum.
Hearing the twin groans of ecstasy above her and feeling the urgent shudders of the two straining bodies as they reached the shattering pinnacle of their orgasms cream-like cum flowed back out of Joanna's savaged anus and down around her mouth, Harriet too began to quiver and thresh between their thighs, groaning out the spasms of her climax deep into the heated wetness of their wildly jerking loins.
Joanna lifted her head and gave a long shuddering cry of fulfillment. She had never known that such a transport of passion and joy could exist.
And at that moment, beyond the half-drawn drapes outside the porthole, a bright light flashed and the shutter of a camera clicked.
Chapter Seven
Alfred Maddon knocked gently on the door of Stateroom B-7 and entered with the tray of coffee and orange juice, "Morning Mrs. Grant!" he cried cheerfully. "Another dry, sunny day! Touch of breeze in the air, perhaps -- there's a bit of a swell running today . . . but we'll be round the corner and heading up the Bosphorus for Istanbul by this evenin'."
Joanna raised herself sleepily on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. Over the sound of the Arcadia's engines, wood was creaking somewhere. The drapes leaned away from the wall into the cabin and then subsided back to the paneling as the horizon rose and fell beyond the porthole. "Good morning," she yawned. "Have you been to the sick bay? Do you know how my husband is?"
"Taken a turn for the better, he has, Mrs. C. Fever down and he had a bit of broth for his breakfast, the nurse told me. He'll be right as rain again in no time, you'll see. Gets `em that way sometimes, the old Mediterranean turn." He laid the tray on the table beside the bunk and added with a pert familiarity: "Strewth! Looking pretty sexy this morning, ain't we, with the old man gone and all!" His eyes dwelled lustfully on the tautly out-thrust curves of the American girl's nightdress at either side of the deep cleft between her breasts.
Joanna pulled the edges of the garment closer together and reddened slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh come on, Mrs. G!" Maddon said. "Who are you trying to kid? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the bleedin' gander, eh?" He winked knowingly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Joanna demanded frostily. And then, catching sight of a brown manila envelope lying on the tray beside the coffee cup: "W-w-what's this?"
"A little bird brought it," the steward said.
"Or at any rate somebody watched the birdie! You bein' in the photographical business and all, you might be interested to see what's in there. Very fine definition, I believe you and it's a perishin' good likeness, you'll have to agree!"
The girl gaped at him over the bedclothes. Alarmed by the coarse familiarity of his words, her mind was in a whirl. What new disaster could this be? Surely the steward too could not have come into possession of one of those dreadful pictures of Bob and . . . that madman? Satiated and exhausted after her session with Len Bonner and his wife the previous day, she had not thought to say anything more about the incriminating documents with which the advertising man had threatened her. She had been far too upset by the realization of Bob's infidelity and, worse still, her own unwilling and abandoned enjoyment of the debauch that followed it. Now though, after a night of self-doubt and reflection, she was beset by fresh terrors and qualms. What kind of a mess had she gotten herself into now?
"Go on, open it," the Cockney urged. "Make believe it's your birthday or something. At least everyone's in their birthday suits!"
With trembling fingers, the voluptuous young blonde tore open the flap and drew out the contents of the envelope. It was a photograph . . . but it wasn't the one Len had showed her yesterday. The scene was the same but the actors were different. A nude woman crouched with her back to the camera on the bunk in the Bonnets' stateroom. She was licking greedily at the nakedly splayed pussy of another girl who was herself anally impaled on the thick cock of a man lying on his back on the bed. The photographer had caught the ravished girl just as she raised her head and shoulders with an expression of raw lust contorting her beautiful features.
Joanna gasped aloud with horror. The lips were drawn back from the teeth. The nostrils were flared. The eyes were wildly staring. But there could be no question about the identity of the subject. She was staring at an abandoned and passion-crazed photograph of herself!
Maddon was chuckling lewdly as he watched the expressions of outraged disbelief and shame chase across Joanna's face. "Bit of all right, eh?" he leered. "Very entertainin' and all. There's more like it, too. We was thinkin' of puttin' them up in packets of five and selling `em for a couple of dollars apiece on the waterfront at Istanbul."
"You . . . you . . . you wouldn't dare!" Joanna choked. "W-w-where did you get this . . . this disgusting picture?"
"Ah! That'd be tellin'," the steward said with another wink. "As to their bein' disgustin' . . . well, that's a matter of opinion, isn't it? There are those who'd say what you were doin' was disgustin'. Me, I'm broadminded. It's all in the mind, that's what I say. I wonder if your husband would agree.
"Oh no! You wouldn't . . . you couldn't . . . show this to him?"
"Oh come, Mrs. G! Fair's fair! it's only right he should get first crack at such a choice work of art innit? You bein' his wife and all. He might even like to buy the whole shoot." Maddon paused and then added meaning fully: "And the negatives . . ."
Joanna was breathing heavily. "I see," she said tightly. "How much?"
"That's better," the steward approved. "Tell you what I'll do. There's a bit of a do on tonight in the crew's quarters. What we call a drag concert. You know . . . sailors dressed as women and all that. Very talented, some of me shipmates! Quite a few of the passengers come over to have a shufti . . . see how the other half lives, and all. You come to my cabin when the concert's over and we'll talk terms, eh?"
"Come to . . . to your . . . cabin?" Joanna repeated faintly. "What . . ."
"Nobody'll notice you," Maddon urged. "There'll be passengers driftin' about, crew members in drag, everybody. Come to my cabin at midnight, your hubby'll still be in sick bay, so nobody'll miss you and we'll see what we can do."
"But . . . but how do I get there?"
"Piece of cake, dear! It's in the after-castle, just aft of the games deck, where you was playin' your deck-tennis. What they used to call the poop in the old days. The concert's in the mess hall. There's two corridors behind it. My cabin's No. 15 on the starboard side. I'll be waitin' for you."
"I can't!" Joanna said with a last desperate attempt to preserve her dignity. "I never heard of such a thing! You must be crazy!"
"I'll wait until half past," the steward said threateningly. "I may be a bit bush after that. Got a few calls to pay and that. There's a mate in the sick bay I may have to see, for example . . . " He left the sentence unfinished and walked out of the stateroom without a backward glance, leaving the distressed blonde staring in consternation at the revealing photograph.
* * *
Bob Grant gazed at the white ceiling of the sick bay in some embarrassment. The young nurse giving him his blanket-wash was everyone's idea of the all-American girl -- trim-figured, healthy, tall -- a pair of frank gray eyes under a mop of mousey hair; large white teeth in a wide and generous mouth; a snub nose that wrinkled into a network of creases when she smiled. Even freckles. But although her manner was so cool and matter-of-fact, he still found himself blushing inwardly when he had to submit to her ministrations. The cramping pains in his guts had gone now, and the sweat that had been pouring from his body for nearly twenty-four hours had at last dried out. But he was still pretty weak and he found it somehow wounding to his male pride to let this athletic young woman, with her deft and practiced hands, manipulate his ailing limbs as though he were a puppet.
He was lying naked on his back, and she was swabbing his clammy flesh with a sponge and warm water. Her name, she had told him, was Nina Hammond.
He closed his eyes and allowed the moistly refreshing caress of the sponge to trail damply over his chest, under his arms and across the sensitive, aching plane of his belly. He heard the stiff rustle of the nurse's starched white uniform as she stretched her arm and began to work over the muscled hardness of his thighs. There was a tinkle of water falling as she squeezed the sponge into a basin at the side of the bed. A wet swishing sound -- and then the soothing warmth circling over the soft surface of his lower belly.
Cool fingers impersonally lifted the heavy, limp shaft of his penis and laid it on his thigh. The sponge swabbed a little more heavily over the wiry hairs of his loins . . . and then his cock was lifted again and she was dabbing at the soft flesh of his inner thighs and gently over the pouched hairiness of his testicles. Bob opened his eyes momentarily and reddened as he felt his cock quiver and harden imperceptibly-- She was still softly sponging his balls, rolling the sensitive creased skin and the delicate glands inside against his thighs, cupping the throbbing sac in the watery porousness of the sponge. Surely she was spending more time than was absolutely necessary on this part of his body? He clenched his teeth and tried to think of something else as the swabbing moved to his penis, smoothly massaging the flaccid shaft up and down while the cool fingers held the organ away from his belly. Despite himself, he sensed his cock jerk and expand further.
After a few more strokes, the nurse shifted her grip, holding the shaft in such a way that the loose foreskin was pulled back and the sponge was moistly rubbing around the blunt, blood-engorged head. The touch of her fingers strengthened as the rod stiffened into full rigidity, throbbing against the pressure of her hand.
Bob was so embarrassed that he did not know where to look. His agonized eyes met the coolly amused gaze of Nina Hammond. "Would you like me to get rid of that for you?" she asked matter-of-factly.
The young man could only nod feebly. His cock was beginning to ache uncomfortably and tiny shivers of desire were flaming through his loins.
The nurse nodded too as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The pressure of her fingers tightened again, and she began massaging his rigidly erected cock with her hand. "I can do it better like this," she said . . . and the next moment she had scrambled up on to the sick bed and straddled his body with her knees on either side of his shoulders and the starched skids of her uniform falling over his face.
Bob was dumbfounded. In the half light of the cotton-bounded world between her thighs, he saw that she was wearing no panties. The pinkish edges of her vaginal lips glistened moistly in the dark hair-lined furrow between her legs only an inch above his face. Softly curling hairs grazed his forehead and the full fleshy lips of her cunt rested damply on the bridge of his nose.
As she began to pull and jerk his turgid penis with long hard strokes of her hand, the new expanded universe of sexuality opened up to him by Harriet Bonner only the day before flowered lustfully around him. Almost instinctively, his hands rose up to grasp the uniformed starchiness of the nurse's ripely swelling hips, pulling her loins down toward him his tongue stole out from between his lips and buried itself between the hotly throbbing flanges of her pussy.
The girl tensed, her loins quivered, as Bob's tongue slavered up and down the warmly moistening length of her vaginal furrow, and she lowered herself along the muscular plane of his naked body so that her full firm breasts were smashed against his hips and he could feel the soft weight of her belly resting on his chest.
Pulling her hard down against him, he thrust his tongue suddenly far up into the hotly ridged passage of her vagina. She gasped aloud, squirming her belly down on him as she clamped her cool thighs firmly on either side of his head. Moving his arms slowly back and forth, Bob began rocking her hips to and fro, sliding the widespread hair-lined slit of her steaming pussy up and down his flickering tongue.
Nina was panting now. He could feel her breath playing warmly over the sensitive tip of his penis. She was cradling his desire-bloated balls with one hand and massaging the viscous seminal fluid from the wetly seeping cock-head up and down his slippery rod with the other.
Bob arched his loins fiercely upwards from the bed as his tongue found the tightly swollen bud of her clitoris and began teasing at the inflamed and hotly throbbing nubbin of flesh. Great swirls of unbearable sensation were building deep in his balls -- The lewd and exciting flickers of lust that had been darting through his veins were draining electrifyingly down to his loins now.
As he felt the nurse's body tense and shudder with the impetus of her coming orgasm, the white-hot stream began searing upward from his testicles and he groaned his ecstasy into the wetness of her wide-held cunt. She heaved convulsively and the warm rubbery ring of her ovaled lips closed tightly over the pulsating head of his cock just as the shaft began a wild staccato jerking and he pumped squirt after squirt of boiling hot sperm into her greedily sucking mouth.
* * *
Joanna Grant was lost in a world of wild sensation. She had lost all count of time. It seemed hours and hours since she had raised a trembling hand to knock on the door of Alfred Maddon's cabin in the crew's quarters in the after-castle. The narrow corridors had been jammed with laughing passengers and prancing sailors with heavily made-up faces simpering over padded female clothing. The drag concert had just ended and she had been jostled in a gay throng of feminine males and masculine females, chattering and joking as they surged towards the bars. After the dreamlike phantasmagoria of this unnatural crowd, the cramped quietude of Maddon's cabin had seemed a haven of rest -but the dream was to be replaced all too soon by a nightmare!
The steward had given her a drink and a cigarette. The drink had had an odd flavor, though it had soothed her hammering nerves, and the taste of the cigarette had been curiously aromatic. She didn't know whether it was the result of these or the dizzying effect of the swell that was making the Arcadia roll so heavily, but soon afterwards her head had begun to swim . . . and then there was a complete blank in her memory.
Dimly, she recalled her horror when Maddon had suggested . . . what? She couldn't remember now. She knew that she had somehow found herself naked on his bunk and that he had been hunched equally naked over her, commanding her in a threatening voice to do something from which her whole mind recoiled. He had wanted her to suck his cock! She had never touched a man's penis with her lips in her life. Not even her husband Bob's. It was vicious and perverted and degrading and . . . wrong! Yet she must have sucked Maddon's . . . she could clearly recollect the hard ridged mass of it throbbing in her mouth, forcing her jaws apart, and the hot pungent taste of . . . Oh God! He must have cum in her mouth, spewing his lewd semen deep in her throat, climaxing between her unwillingly captive lips!
But in the drug-dimmed depths of her mind there were memories only of pleasure! Could it be that she had actually enjoyed such a degraded performance? And what had happened afterwards? She tried desperately to collect her thoughts . . . but there were only confused images and sounds and impressions shifting and fading through her bewildered brain. Maddon had fucked her, she thought -- the obscene word floating easily to the surface of her consciousness . . . yet when she tried to reconstruct her memory of the event it was a different face, a face with a beard, that she saw leering evilly down at her! She remembered flames of desire raging through her loins; remembered pain and pleasure and ecstasy; she remembered sitting up and choking as somebody forced a burning liquid down her throat. There was a door opening and closing too. And the steward's jocular voice . . . she could almost hear it now! -- calling: "All right shipmates! No more than three at a time please! Roll up, roll up . . . ten bucks a throw and cheap at the price!" Could that mean . . .? No surely not! It couldn't!
Suddenly she was back in the present. Her consciousness returned with a jolt. She was lying on Maddon's bunk and her whole body was afire with a strange sensation of tingling joy. There was a man on top of her but she couldn't see his face: it was buried in the pillow beneath her shoulder as he plunged his cock in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt.
It was a huge cock, stretching unbearably the trembling lips of her vagina as the man's sperm-bloated balls thumped heavily against the crevice of her buttocks. There were other men there too. Some of them obscenely painted, holding oversize women's skirts above their hips as they stroked their turgid penises to the wild beat of her fucking. She gazed around her in blurred ecstasy. There were cocks everywhere . . . large ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones . . . she was in a cock paradise, but the biggest and best of all was the cock that was pistoning in and out of her greedily clasping cunt!
There were hands in the cabin too. From either side, eager fingers tugged cruelly at the fleshy hair-covered lips sucking this mammoth penis thrusting so fiercely into her belly. She felt a fingertip probe beneath the dangling, bull-like sac at her defenseless anus. It flirted teasingly with the tiny puckered hole, suddenly popping inside to roll around, enlarging the rubbery elastic opening until the very palm of the invading hand lay flat against her rounded buttocks, the entire finger buried securely within the tiny pulsating hole. Strange masochistic delights surged through her veins as the cock and the finger began fucking into her with a slow and agonizing rhythm. She was a prisoner, a helpless victim who could do nothing against the delicious assault on her cunt and asshole . . . strapped between their pounding lust like an ensnared animal . . . and she was loving it!
A woman's voice was hoarsely chanting, "Oooooooh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh shit yes . . . fuck me this way! Do it to me! . . . And she realized with faint surprise that the voice was her own.
The man on top of her gasped and groaned as his heavily swollen balls forced gush after gush of hot thick sperm deep into her nakedly constricting belly . . . then the others were pulling him off her still writhing body, his white sticky semen stringing across her thigh from the head of his deflated cock as another cradled himself on top of her, plunging his lust-stiffened cudgel into her squirming, straining cunt like a jack-hammer.
Somebody seized her hand and placed a cock in it, pressing her fingers snugly around the throbbing shaft . . . and now she had one in each hand, jerking them frenziedly in time to the anonymous penis and finger drubbing up into her writhing belly. Her head flailed wildly from side to side as she screwed her hips pleadingly up into the penis of the sailor on top of her.
"Jeez! Look at that bitch fuck!" a voice exclaimed lewdly, the words registering only faintly in her passion-crazed mind.
"Didn't I tell you, mate!" the self-satisfied tones of Maddon leered in the background.
"Goddamn, what a hot and hungry pussy!"
A shudder of wanton delight surged through the young blonde's raw, nerve-tingling flesh at their obscene words and her own abject helplessness. Her ripely mounded breasts heaved and quivered up against the pressure of the faceless man's chest, and she went on fucking insanely until . . . at last! . . . it came over her like a breathtaking tidal wave . . . a searing, indescribable gush of elation roaring through her madly aroused loins as the lips of her cunt sucked and grasped at his hard plunging cock. "Oh God! Oh God! I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming!" she wailed as both the cocks in her hands began to spew forth their jets of viscid white fluid, spurting hotly against her naked breasts and ribs. At the same time, the shaft of flesh inside her throbbed and heaved, squirting its lust-driven secretions into her hotly trembling womb.
Then another man mounted her, and yet another, as she wallowed lewdly in the sticky pools of their sperm, chastising and debasing herself in her drug-inspired and near-maniacal arousal, her mind a drug-induced haze of erotic delight.
Later, they ordered her to get on her knees, grasping impatiently at her shuddering hips to help. Her head reeled with the effort as she struggled on to all fours . . . and then the blunt head of a cock was rammed into the now sperm-soaked gash of her cunt as another was shoved violently into her gaping mouth. She gagged as the wetly gleaming rod sawed viciously into her face, her ovalled lips brushing the short wiry hairs of the sailor's pubic hair.
Oh God! Oh God! the tattered remnants of her conscious mind groaned inwardly as the two men pummeled her lust-crazed body back and forth between them . . . and then once more the mental vision of her very helplessness incited her. The desire flaming deep inside her belly consumed her again. She began to roll the cheeks of her buttocks high up behind her in a lewd circulatory movement, tightening her ravaged cunt muscles on the hot fleshy rod burrowing into her. She wanted to exploit it to the limit, to drench her naked flesh with its hotly gushing sperm until it seeped from her flooded cunt to dribble down her already wetly covered thighs. She wanted to grovel in it again. She sucked wildly, insatiably at the stubby cock in her mouth, wanting it to shoot into her throat, wanting to swallow it and swallow it until her stomach was as full as her cunt! She wanted to saturate her body in sperm inside and out.
Her drug-boosted wish was to be granted! As her own second climax began shuddering deep down in her cock-filled loins, the turgid hardness flicking into her from the rear bulged and jerked, spurting its searing hot charge up her quaking cunt. It splashed violently against the tip of her cervix and oozed back out of her, dripping from the cum-drenched lips of her hair-covered pussy, onto her quivering white thighs. As she jerked wildly forward, submerging the penis in her mouth to the hilt, it too convulsed, flooding her throat with the pungent male liquid. Her cheeks bloated outwards as she greedily gulped down the sticky sperm, clasping her lips excitedly about the spurting cock so as not to lose a single drop! It dribbled down to her chin from the corners of her lewdly slavering mouth and she swept her tongue avidly around her lips to wipe the viscous moisture back inside as the softening rod of flesh pulled free with a wet sucking sound.
Joanna skewered her buttocks savagely back onto the still squirting penis in her cunt and screamed her ecstasy aloud as she felt herself explode in a great burst of showering stars, racking her entire body with such an agonizing joy that she fell forward on to her face and merciful oblivion enveloped her once again.
* * *
"Christ! That was the hottest piece of pussy I've seen in years!" Alfred Maddon said to Nina Hammond the following morning as they sat over a pot of coffee in his galley.
The sickbay nurse giggled sexily. Despite the fresh-picked innocence of her appearance, she was in fact a girl of considerable experience and her amoral character, coupled with that naive expression, had proved of great value to the steward in his nefarious activities more than once. The husband wasn't too bad either," she said reminiscently. "Once I got him going!"
"Bugger that," Maddon said. "Did you get the picture?"
"Sure I got the picture. I fixed the automatic shutter release -- I'd hidden my miniature Japanese camera among the sickroom stuff and I whipped myself off him just as he was cumming. You can see my pussy and you can see his face in close-up. It's a beaut!"
"Good girl! Bring it along before you go on duty and I'll set the stage for the final act of Mister Len Bleedin' Bonner's little scheme."
"What do you have to do exactly?" the girl asked curiously.
"Piece of perishin' cake, love. Little Mrs. Grant already seen your candid camera shots of her hubby with Mrs. B and herself with both of `em. What with that and the hash I planted in her purse, we got a hold on her she can't break. All I have to do now is put the screws on her sweet young husband."
"By showing him the photos of himself with me and with Mrs. Bonnet I guess?"
"Right. He don't know his wife's already seen one of `em. I'll threaten to show her both if he don't do what we say. I'll nobble him just before he's discharged from sick bay this morning. But first, I'll put the bite on the girl, before he gets back to the cabin, see.
"Yes, Alf but what are you going to make them do?"
The steward chuckled. "According to Bonner's instructions, I have to approach `em separately and tell each of `em to make an excuse to get away from the other when we go ashore at Istanbul tomorrow. She's to go with me and Bonner; he's to escort Mrs. B and you."
"And then?"
"There's a certain nightclub I know. Kind of a special place with special attractions. Very special if you want to know! Each party is to make their way there unknown to the other . . . and then well see what happens!" He laughed again. "It should be quite a night!" he said.
Chapter Eight
The nightclub was in the basement of a hotel overlooking the Bosphorus, not far from Taxim Square. The hillside was so steep that the entrance hall was on the top floor of the building and the elevators, having plunged past the restaurant floor and six stories of bedrooms, could still decant their passengers at street level on the opposite side of the hotel. Below it again, the onion-shaped dome of a minaret belonging to a mosque on the waterfront rose just above the balustrade marking the edge of the narrow cobbled roadway. Across the dark water, lights on the Asian side of the city cast long streamers of reflected radiance among the ripples washing outwards from ferryboats plying between the densely packed shipping thronging the channel. There were loudspeakers amplifying the voice of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer from the minaret and until the band struck up an interminable selection of Turkish caz music, the dimly-lit alcoves of the underground club throbbed eerily with the recorded quarter-tones of his chant.
Joanna Grant relaxed against the soft cushions of the banquette and sighed. It had been a long day. They had seen the Blue Mosque and Santa Sophia; they had taken the ferry to Sariyer and marveled at the complexities of the wedding-cake villas standing in their groves of fig trees along the Sea of Mannara; they had toiled up and down the terraced slopes of the Seraglio ("That's where they shot that film, Topkapi," Maddon had said). But the most exhausting thing of all -- and the most incomprehensible -- had been the quarrel with Bob before they started.
It had been inexplicable. She had expected some difficulty carrying out the steward's blackmailing demands that she should once again come ashore without her husband -- but far from raising objections, Bob had seemed to be only too willing to let her go alone. In fact at one time she had thought he had been about to make some excuse to do the same thing himself! And then of course she had become suspicious . . . already shattered by the knowledge of his infidelity, shocked beyond measure by the revelation the previous night of her own depraved sensuality, she had leaped to the conclusion that he wanted her out of the way so that he could be free to indulge his own lustful passion for Harriet Bonner. Seeing her marriage plunging downhill to ruin, she had reacted too forcefully; there had been an exchange of bitter words, words had led to recriminations and recriminations to insults. Then finally Bob had rushed from the cabin and slammed the door and she had not seen him since. The discovery that Harriet was not in the party had made her more depressed still, and it had been a gloomy and dejected Joanna who had steadfastly refused to respond to the jocularities of Bonner and the steward throughout the long sightseeing day.
Now however, in the softly-lit luxury of the club, after delicious rice-filled dolmades wrapped in vine leaves followed by savory stuffed peppers served with a kebab of flaming sheep's kidneys in wine, she was beginning at last to unwind. Almost without thinking, she accepted a sweetish aromatic cigarette from Len and sipped a glass of pungent raid as she watched the lights dim in preparation for the floorshow.
There had been an air of suppressed excitement about the two men ever since they came in. Their eyes were glistening and their breathing was fast. Soon she was to know the reason why.
There was a clash of cymbals and the lights went out altogether. Into the blackness a single bright spot fingered a wandering beam that finally searched out the figure of a girl standing at one side of the tiny dance floor. She was tan and fleshy and dusky-skinned, and she wore nothing but a tiny sequined apron and two silver tassels gummed to the prune-dark nipples of her ripely swelling uptilted breasts.
As the band jangled into an up-tempo Turkish tune loud with the twanging of stringed instruments and the clashing of tambourines, she moved slowly to the middle of the floor and stood there motionless, her hands, palms together, raised above her darkly shining head. There was a patter of applause and a murmur of expectancy in the darkened room. Evidently the girl was a favorite with the clientele.
The tempo of the music increased . . . and slowly the girl's voluptuous body began to quiver. Her calves shuddered, tremors ran up and down the smooth swell of her thighs, the sequins trembled and glittered in the vivid light. Very slowly, the soft ripe swell of her belly began to rotate in half time to the rhythm -- and then the pectoral muscles above her breasts tensed and all at once the breasts themselves were moving . . . gyrating at twice the speed of the music as the silver tassels swung out and then began to whirl in shining arcs in the spotlight beam.
Faster and faster they spun as the tempo increased again, until they were flashing in glittering circles almost like airplane propellers. The applause broke out again as the girl abruptly halted the circular heaving of her left breast and then reversed its direction so that it was revolving in a contrary direction to the other. A moment later she repeated the process with the right one, and the tassels were spinning together again . . . and now it was the grinding of her belly that was arrested, only to restart in the opposite direction to the fleshy mounds above, heaving and pulsing between the bony hollows of her hips as the sequined apron threshed from side to side and the rest of her body remained absolutely immobile except for the shuddering quivers trembling through her flesh.
The band modulated into a different key and suddenly she ripped away the apron and glided, with the tassels still spinning, towards the tables around the floor. An excited murmur ran around the packed room. "What's she going to do now?" Joanna whispered to Alfred Maddon . . . surprised at herself that after all the degradations and indignities she had suffered at the hands of these two men she was still able to talk with them in a friendly fashion.
"You'll see, love!" the steward chortled. "Just watch the birdie now." And he pushed a silver coin to the edge of their table as the spotlight swung towards them and the dancer approached.
In the harsh brilliance of the light, Joanna could see every speck of the dark stubble shadowing the girl's nakedly shaven crotch above the muscular fleshy lips of her cunt as she undulated her hips lasciviously towards the table. There were tiny droplets of perspiration dewing the dark sin of her heaving belly as she flexed her knees and lowered her pussy over the shining coin. The cords on the inside of her thighs tensed, the muscles of her lower abdomen contracted . . . and when she whirled away to another burst of clapping the coin had disappeared, securely clasped within the prehensile lips of her cunt! "That's muscular control, that is!" Len Bonner laughed. "You could do with a spot of that yourself, baby . . . Hey! Look at the way she spins them tits!"
Obscurely excited by the oblique secularity of the act, Joanna drained her glass of raki and leaned back against the cushions. The fiery spirit was beginning to hit her now, and the potent fumes of the hashish she was unwittingly smoking were making her head swim and destroying her sense of time. There were other attractions after the belly dancer, but she could not clearly remember what order they came in or exactly what they did. There was a big-breasted black girl from Ethiopia who had simply stood in the center of the floor with a small-radius spot trained on her pelvis and contracted and expanded the fleshy lips of her shaven cunt against the purplish erectile bud of her clitoris until she had induced a teeth-flashing, eye-rolling, head-flailing orgasm in herself that had the audience applauding wildly. There had been a Danish blonde who had lain on a bed in the middle of the floor and fucked herself wildly with vibrators and rubber penises and even a trained snake until every lewdly trembling bulge of her voluptuous body had been shuddering with the force of her obscenely prolonged orgasms. There had been an Arab woman who circled the tables on all fours while the wetly throbbing black-skinned cock of an erotically stimulated donkey nudged in and out of her widely-splayed cunt from behind. And to all of them, shocked as she was at the beginning, blurred though her impressions were, Joanna found herself responding with undeniable twinges of secret forbidden excitement . . .
In a darkly shadowed alcove on the opposite side of the floor, completely unaware of his wife's presence in the club, Bob Grant had sat between Harriet and the freckled nurse, Nina Hammond, watching the lewd displays with increasing disbelief . . . and increasingly lustful arousal. Harriet's expert fingers had been tracing discreet arabesques on the material of his pants just over the tightly throbbing bulge at his crotch, sending delicious tingles of erotic excitement flickering through the loins, while the nurse's gentle grasp of his hand communicated, by an infinity of subtle pressures, a whole universe of sensuous joy that was entirely outside his experience. When Harriet suggested after the floorshow that there were even more intriguing things to see upstairs, therefore, be was in no mood to argue: Hell! Why should he worry? If Joanna had better things to do than accompany her husband ashore, why shouldn't he have himself a ball as well? A quantity of heavy red Hungarian wine with dinner, followed by several glasses of raki, had induced in the young man a sense of euphoria which chose completely to ignore the fact that be was in the club under duress! His anger and rage and frustration at the cheap trick with which the goddamn steward, Maddon, had blackmailed him into two-timing his wife were forgotten. He had two of the sexiest, most salacious bitches he had ever met on either side of him. Why In hell shouldn't he cash in? And fuck the goddamn consequences!
They went upstairs in a lift hidden behind the bandstand. The room they were showed into was small but luxurious: Persian rugs glowed softly on the floor and walls in the dim red lighting. There was a huge low divan covered in white bearskin -- and facing it one entire wall of minor glass.
An olive-skinned servant brought in a tray carrying a bottle of raki, three glasses and a sandalwood box containing long brown cigarettes with golden tips.
Harriet poured the drinks, lit a cigarette, and handed it to Bob. He took a puff, coughed slightly, and raised inquiring eyebrows at her. "What kind of tobacco's that?" he asked.
She grinned, placing two more in her mouth and lighting them too. "Specialty of the house," she said, handing one to Nina and taking a deep drag on the other herself. "Drink up and let's get comfortable for the show."
Yeah, what exactly is this show?" Bob demanded, inhaling a lungfull of smoke. It tasted sweetish and aromatic . . . and curiously it seemed to have an immediate and soothing effect on him. With each slow ingestion, the worries and indignations and tensions that had been besetting him all day receded further and further away. He took a long swig of the raki. Christ, he felt good!
Nina was smiling at him. "The show?" she repeated softly. "You'll see in a minute! Let's just say it's the kind of show you want to be comfortable for when you see it. "And she began shamelessly pulling her short-skirted silk dress over her tousled head. Harriet was already undressed, lying nakedly spread-eagled on the white bearskin, her voluptuous thighs parted to show the pinkly glistening vaginal slit gashing the hair-lined furrow at her loins.
Bob Grant stared lustfully at the ripely swelling contours of the brunette on the bed and then switched his gaze to the firm limbs and tautly bulged breasts of the girl beside him as they emerged from the cups and swathes of nylon and elastic and rubber in which they had been confined. Almost automatically he began to divest himself of his own clothing, his hardening cock swaying free and then jerking slowly rigid as he slid his shorts down his thighs.
When the three of them were completely naked, Harriet poured more raki into the glasses and reached for a panel at the head of the bed on which there were three buttons. She pressed the one in the center.
Bob sucked in his breath with surprise. The image in the mirror was slowly blurring, fading into obscurity. But the vanishing reflection of himself and the two nude women was being replaced by another gradually sharpening picture: that of a precisely similar room with the sole exception that the tableau on the bed was composed of different personnel! Evidently the glass was one of those two-way mirrors he had heard about . . . and now they were spying on the occupants of the adjoining room. As the thought came to him, the amplified gasps of a woman in the throes of passion were relayed through two speakers set high up in the corners of the wall beside the mirror.
But it was when the image focused sharply enough for him to recognize the protagonists that Bob really gasped aloud himself!
There was a girl lying on the bed in the other room, slumped down in a befuddled daze between two men who were stark naked. Her dress was pulled up to the top of her thighs and the flimsy whiteness of her bikini panties showed where softly curling strands of silken pubic hair sprouted damply from the tight elastic leg bands barring the way to her hidden pussy.
The men, with penises stiffly erect and faces red with drink, were Len Bonner and the steward, Alfred Maddon. The girl was his own wife Joanna!
He choked off a cry of rage as four soft hands pulled Him back on the bed and thrust another glass into his hand. His mouth gaping in disbelief, he watched Len Bonner kneel up on the bed and grab Joanna's legs, forcing them sharply apart to bring a whimper of protest from the girl's trembling lips and expose the deep cleft of her loins with the pale band of the panties disappearing up between the clenched cheeks of her buttocks. At the same time the steward leaned over to hook his fingers in the waistband of the frail garment and rip it away with a single sweep of his arm. An unheard cry of protest came tumbling from Joanna's lips as the moistly glistening flesh of her vaginal slit came into full view.
Bob stared at the obscene humiliation of his wife with mixed emotions. His hands clenched and unclenched by his naked sides as rage and anger and jealousy flamed through his veins . . . yet at the same time the effects of the drink and the hashish cigarette lent the event a curious kind of distance: it was almost as though it was happening to someone else, and anyway it was too far away to bother about. Besides which . . . he was ashamed to admit, even to himself . . . the sight was exciting him. Christ, how it was exciting him! He felt his cock expand to an iron-hand rigidity as two pairs of hands began to gently fondle it.
He began squirming his buttocks down against the warmly curling hairs of the bearskin as his burgeoning testicles were kneaded and cradled, the wetly throbbing shaft of his cock caressed, and the loose foreskin massaged expertly up and around the bulbous head with its moistly seeping tip. Gaping wordlessly at the indecently displayed image of his wife, lying there with her legs apart between two men, he thought that probably she was feeling more ashamed, more naked than she ever had in her life. She wasn't even trying to check the tears rolling down her cheeks. She was forced to lie there with her wet loins exposed to those two hulking drunks . . . but how in hell did she come to be there in the first place? And why was she lying like that if she didn't enjoy it? It was too much for his muddled brain to work out. Serve her damned well right, he thought hazily. If she hadn't been such a goddamn prude, she'd have known about things like this!
In the next room, Alfred Maddon was peering over between Joanna's legs where Len Bonner held them apart. He reached forward and ran his middle finger up the tightly closed furrow of her cunt, parting the soft vaginal hairs and feeling the smooth damp lips beneath jerk slightly against the sudden contact. He pressed his finger into the glistening slit and the girl shuddered convulsively.
Bob could sense the tremors of excitement raging through his loins at the lewd spectacle before him. He hardly noticed the quickened breath of the two erotically aroused woman manipulating his cock and testicles, allowing himself to be rolled over on to his back as he craned his neck to keep his eyes glued on the obscene positioning of his wife's helpless body next door.
Nina straddled the young man's hips as she watched the four male hands working over the blonde girl's quivering thighs, and she guided the hardness of his hugely pulsating cock until she felt it nudging against the moistly parted lips of her own cunt. Then, without taking her eyes off Len and the steward on the other side of the mirror, she grasped the rigid rod of flesh and lowered her pelvis slowly until she felt the hotly throbbing head insinuate itself up between the ridges of tender flesh on either side of her pussy. Bob groaned suddenly and arched his hips off the bed to slide it with one easy stroke all the way up into her heaving cunt. Dropping her hips until she was sitting hard on his pelvis, the voluptuous nurse drew in her breath sharply as she felt the rubbery glans batter softly up against her cervix, buried as far up in her belly as it would go. Her mouth hung open and her eyes glazed as she began undulating against his loins to make the head grind tantalizingly against the hidden walls of her womb in a sweetly magical rhythm that brought low mewls of pleasure from deep within her throat.
Bob felt the pressure in his cock and balls mounting agonizingly as he stared panting at Joanna's body still held tightly by the two men on the far side of the two-way glass. And then suddenly the image was blotted out as Harriet Bonner in her turn straddled his head and lowered the wetly tangled hairs of her pussy to his mouth. He jerked and thrust his tongue far up into the darkly heated depths of her vagina . . . writhing in an ecstasy of erotic bliss between the two sets of wetly grinding female loins.
In the adjoining room, Len and Maddon had stripped off all Joanna's clothes now. She was completely naked and defenseless before the rummaging hands exploring her thighs and breasts and loins. Half drunk, half drugged, and indifferent to the degrading assault on her body, she allowed the steward to draw one of her legs up over his hips on one side and Len to do the same on the other, so that she was lying with her knees up in the air and her thighs obscenely spread, the whole flat plane of her loins exposed to their view . . . and to that of the lustfully excited girls straddling her husband Bob on the other side of the mirror.
Maddon was working at the young blonde wife's vagina now, insinuating two of his fingers into the hot wet cavern of her cunt, smoothing them around inside and then sliding his other hand up under her buttocks so that they were drawn up tight against the invading fingers in her cunt. "She's gettin' wet!" he announced hoarsely.
Len had dropped his head to the girl's nipples and was roiling and nibbling first one and then the other between his teeth. This was what he had been waiting for! This was the culmination of his plan! Soon the little bitch would be begging him to screw her . . . and the pleasure was all the more intense because he knew that Harriet would have turned the knob by now and that Goddamn stuck-up punk of a husband would be watching from the other side of the glass! He looked up and grinned. "Great!" he said loudly. "I'll fuck her now then!"
The Cockney scowled. " `Old on, mate!" he said. "I get first go, for Chris sake! It was me got her ready!"
"Bullshit! Whose idea was it in the first place?"
"Fuck that! You couldn't of done it at all without bloody me!"
It was Len's turn to scowl, He lifted his lips from Joanna's swollen and inflamed nipple, and then suddenly his face cleared. "I gotta better idea," he said, and there was a strange sadistic undertone to his voice. Let her Goddamn husband hear this through the speakers! "Well both do it at once!"
"Both? Do me a perishin' favor, mate! How can we do that?"
"You in the front and me in the back," Len said triumphantly.
On the bed in the other room, muffled though it was by the pressure of Harriet's thighs over his ears, Bob Grant heard the obscene suggestion unbelievingly. Christ! Those two drunken bastards were going to sodomize Joanna and fuck her at the same time! And she was too high, too stoned to put up any resistance. He'd been all for broadening her sexual experience, but this was just a bit too much! Nevertheless, the lewd thought of the depraved, unnatural ravishment about to take place just a few feet away on the other side of the glass caused him to groan in guilty excitement as he continued undulating his pelvis up against Nina's widely spread thighs, ramming his hotly throbbing cock up into her belly as his tongue slavered up and down the older woman's cunt.
In the adjoining room, Len suddenly relinquished his hold on Joanna's breasts and got off the bed. "Turn her over," he hissed to Maddon, who still held her tightly down on the mattress, finger-fucking the poor girl's vagina, stretching it wider and wider with each rotation of his lewdly probing fingers.
The steward obediently moved up and caught her by the shoulders, twisting her roughly around so that she was lying face downwards on the bed. She slumped there without struggling now, uttering small gasps of shame and desperation, her buttocks quivering slightly each time her frame was racked by another tearing sob.
Len waited for a moment, staring at the long line of the blonde's body, her bulging breasts squashed into the mattress by the pressure of Maddon's hands, the two rounded moons of her ass quivering palely in fear and anticipation. His cock stood out, long and thick and dark, with the purplish veins marbling the underside, like the trunk of some forest tree. The nurse's eyes beyond the two-way mirror widened in horrified wonder. God, he would kill the girl! She could never take a thing like that in her rectum: it would split her in half!
Suddenly Len stooped and grabbed hold of both Joanna's ankles, pressuring out harshly so that her legs were hauled wide apart and her feet projected over the sides of the bed. She gave a strangled scream. "Oh no! Please no!" she sobbed as she felt the cool rush of air between her thighs. "I can't ... I can't! Not that way!" And she jerked convulsively and tried to rise.
"Hold her!" Len yelled to Maddon ... and the steward slammed his hand hard into the small of her back, pressing her down tightly on the bed. For a moment longer, Joanna struggled vainly and then she lay still, her body shaking from the violent emotions warring within her breast.
Len dropped to his knees between the girl's splayed thighs, and thrust his finger cruelly into the tightly puckered ring of her anus as he stroked and prepared his thickly veined penis for the final and ultimate humiliation of the defenseless blonde spread-eagled on her belly beneath him. Opening her softly trembling buttocks wide with his thumbs he leaned forward to allow a large pool of saliva from his lips to fall on the desperately clenched nether ring and help lubricate his entry. He pulled back the thick foreskin of his cock, exposing the wetly bulbous head, and aimed it directly at the tiny wrinkled opening now stretched wide from the rummaging of his finger. Then, withdrawing the invading finger with a moist hissing noise, he bent over and pressed the whole of his sweating body into her back, the thick length of his cock lying directly rammed into the crevice of her ass-cheeks. Stretching the softly quaking white moons apart, he levered himself up on his elbows, pressed slightly with his hips, and directed his rock-hard instrument straight into the tightly clenched orifice of her anus.
The two girls straddling Joanna's husband in the other room crooned with excitement as they saw the relentless staff plunge suddenly through the tightly restricting ring of nether flesh. They thrust their lustfully throbbing cunts harder down on the thrashing young man as they saw Joanna's tiny stretched asshole slip over and clasp the tip of the ad-man's cock like a rubber band. And they heard Joanna gasp with pain and utter a moaning cry as Bonner grinned above her, exulting in his final triumph over the snot-nosed bitch and her husband. She cried again as he thrust down and sank his lust-thickened cock halfway to the hilt, the sound muffled by the bearskin bedspread pressing into her face as her legs flailed wildly on either side of him, struggling hopelessly to escape the inhuman impalement.
Her buttocks jerked and twisted beneath him, trying to throw off his weight, but her desperation only worsened her position . . . every time she bucked and writhed, she skewered herself further up the cock driving inch by inch into her tightly resisting anus. Finally she gave a long howling moan as Len's thickly throbbing cudgel slipped unimpeded into the rubbery depths of her rectum and his hairy balls slapped viciously against her moistened cunt. For a moment she jerked spasmodically and then she lay still to ease the pain of the cruel and complete occupation of her anus. It was useless to resist further: each throb of her tortured body served only to widen and stretch the tiny cavern to greater and more agonizing dimensions.
"Jesus, but it's tight in there!" Len panted, resting for a moment despite his raging desire to begin fucking into her ass immediately.
Alfred Maddon, trembling with lust beside the obscenely coupled pair, was going out of his mind. His fingers were plucking lewdly at her breasts and belly, scrabbling wildly over the soft female flesh until he could stand it no longer. "For Chris sake turn `her over! Turn `er over and let me in!" he gasped.
Len locked his hands tightly to Joanna's hips and rolled to one side, pulling her backwards on top of him. His immensely throbbing cock was still imbedded deep inside her anus as she lay full length on her back, tight against his stomach and chest. Her legs splayed out limply on each side of his as a low pleading mewl sobbed out of her saliva-flecked lips.
The steward leaped onto the bed. Straddling the ad-man's knees, he pushed the girl's thighs further apart still and then, grasping his rock-hard, aching cock with both hands, he stuffed it straight into the moistly gaping cavern of Joanna's cunt. "Ooooooh!" she moaned as it slithered deep inside her quaking belly, joining Len's staff already buried there deep in her rectum. She lay there, groaning and sobbing with shame and pain, sandwiched so lewdly between them, impaled between their penises with only the thin wall of flesh between her rectum and vagina separating the two viciously throbbing poles.
Already inflamed to fever pitch by the sight of Len's cruel rape of the girl's anus, Maddon began to fuck furiously into her hot wet pussy while the ad-man beneath him started thrusting up with long hard strokes into the cringing depths of her rectum. For a moment they shafted at odds but soon they hit a natural rhythm, buffeting Joanna between them like a helpless ragdoll.
The unseen watchers in the next room gazed mesmerized as the two lust-driven shafts . . . gleaming wetly their fun lengths . . . skewered into Joanna's wide-stretched loins like twin battering-rams. They could see the soft pink edges of her cunt drawing back with Maddon's cock on the outstroke only to be stuffed back inside as he plunged it home again deep in her quivering young belly. And the same thing was happening with the tightly clasped opening of her distended anus as Len screwed in and out of it with demonic fury.
On and on it went, faster and faster grew the tempo . . . and abruptly Joanna reared up convulsively between them, her mouth opening to emit a long wailing cry of subservience and shame.
It was at this precise moment that Harriet, in the next room, leaned over to press the second button.
The lights flickered, dimmed and then brightened again . . . and suddenly the tableaux were reversed: for Harriet, Nina and Bob, the two-way mirror became a wall of glass again; and for Joanna and the two men it was all at once transparent, revealing the lewd spectacle of the young man writhing beneath the pounding loins of the two lustfully naked women on the bearskin.
As Joanna's eyes widened in astonishment, the wildly excited girls . . . as though they were puppets pulled on a single wire -- rose at the same time from Bob's squirming body just as he gave a shuddering animal cry and his cock, sluicing wetly from the hot clasp of Nina's cunt, began a furious jerking that pumped a stream of white-hot sperm high into the air in glistening spurts.
And then the unbelievable happened.
The sudden realization that it was her own husband thrashing about in the throes of his orgasm before the two sex-crazed naked girls in the next room wrought an astonishing change in Joanna! The wild twinges of unadmitted desire ravaging her nerves took over. The low whining moans coming from her mouth altered subtly to whimpers of passionate pleading. She felt all at once free to exult in the ravishment of her body.
It was a strange kind of exultation, a masochistic exultation, engendered by the very helplessness of her position, by the lewdly obscene thought that she was being fucked half to death by two men at once while her husband was adulterously coupled with two nude, lascivious girls only a few feet away. But whatever it was, it was exciting her beyond her wildest imagination! God, it was the most incredible thing that had ever happened!
Her hips began to thrust backwards to meet the plunging strokes of Len's cock crammed into her rectum and then forward again to swallow the whole wet length of Maddon's pistoning penis in her suddenly scalding pussy. Her whole body undulated wildly between the two men and her buttocks began a salacious rhythm of their own, squirming in desperate abandoned circles.
"Oooooooh! Aaaaagh! Oooooh!" she chanted . . . on and on in time to their crushing thrusts into her cunt and asshole. Wilder and wilder they became, heaving and groaning and plunging with ever-increasing fury as their animal groans of desire mingled with the suck and slap of flesh on flesh in a mounting crescendo of abandon.
Joanna was the first to cum.
"Aaaaah!" And then a longer, louder cry: "Eeeeeeeeeeugh! I'm cumming! Christ, I'm cumming! Keep on! Fuck me! Bugger me! Screw me! Oh Christ! Keep on . . . keep on!
She was out of her mind with desire now, sobbing out an orgasm that seemed as though it would never end, begging and pleading with them to go on and on. This was the moment Len had been waiting for! This was the culmination of his plan! He and the steward, sensing their total conquest of Joanna's body and mind, both plunged savagely forward at the same time, imbedding their suddenly wildly ejaculating cocks deep in her cunt and anus, pumping their hot thick sperm far up into her heaving belly.
As the three of them collapsed in a spent and satiated tangle of limbs, Harriet -- wildly excited by the lewd sounds relayed through the speakers above the minor . . . moved to the head of the bed and pressed the third button. There was a discreet rumble and the two-way glass divided in the center and slid slowly out of sight into cavities concealed in the walls, leaving the six of them on two beds in one huge double room.
Trembling with unsatisfied lust, the ad-man's voluptuous wife and the freckle-faced nurse repositioned themselves at opposite ends of the young man spread-eagled on the bearskin between them . . . so that now it was Nina who squatted over his head to lower the wetly gaping lips of her cunt to his mouth and Harriet who jerked wildly at his already reviving penis, stiffening it into gleaming erection as she stuffed the lust-inflamed head into the greedily clasping maw of her own steaming pussy.
The sight of the two girls haunched over the squirming Bob, their hands lasciviously fondling each other's breasts, their tongues buried deep in each other's mouths, was too much for the two men on the other bed. With one accord they rose and hurried through the space that had been occupied by the two-way glass, their cocks already expanding again into lustfully throbbing rigidity. A moment later, they were seizing the quivering buttocks of the two girls crouched over Bob and plunging their moistly glistening rods fiercely into the tightly clenched dilating rings of their assholes.
Nor was the newly aroused Joanna to be left out! The sight of the panting, heaving, groaning quintet on the other bed . . . the two skewered girls, one being sucked and the other being fucked by her own husband! . . . inflamed her erotic desire to such a degree that she literally hurled herself across the intervening space and cast herself down on the rumpled bearskin with her thighs drawn tightly up against her breasts and her wetly quivering pussy splayed wide for anyone to use. As the plunging complex of sweating buttocks and balls and breasts and bellies subsided slowly on to its side on the bed, she grasped the heads of the two girls and forced them down towards her obscenely open loins so that almost automatically the two hotly flickering tongues began licking and slavering at the hair-lined flanges of her own passionately trembling cunt.
And so they continued, constantly changing position, fucking and sodomizing, sucking and licking and fondling and jerking, the wildly gasping cries of ecstasy from their six slavering mouths intermingling in a symphony of insane sexual abandon, until it was time for them to stagger out into the dawn and make their way, giggling together, to the waterfront and the launch that would carry them back to the Arcadia.
End
EPILOGUE
Bob Grant pulled expansively on his cigar and nudged Len Bonner in the ribs with his elbow. "Jesus!" he muttered. "Would you look at the tits on that redhead coming up the gangway there!"
Len shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun and squinted along the promenade deck. The Arcadia was anchored in the bay of Naples and the tall shuttered houses clustered along the waterfront rose tier upon tier toward the majestic cone of Vesuvius rearing up into the cloudless blue sky. "Not bad!" he approved. "American too, judging by the guy she's with."
"Mmmm-hmmm!" Joanna Grant enthused throatily at his side. "I always did go for those tall blonde types! Think you could make it with the girl, lovey, if I got kind of interested in the guy?"
"I'll say!" her husband breathed. "The purser told me there were a couple of extra passengers boarding the old ship here for the long voyage home. I guess that must be them. Looks like we got an added interest to brighten the Atlantic crossing, eh?"
"Just a minute, you two! Just a minute!" Harriet Bonner protested. "There's six people in this school! Fair's fair, after all. Don't forget your old friends when it comes to sharing out the loot now!"
Bob Grant laughed. "I'm sure there's plenty for everybody," he said. "What do you say our chances are of making them before `ye get to Cannes, Len?"
The advertising man tipped the ash from his own cigar and chuckled. "No takers," he said. "Besides, I'm gonna leave this operation to you, boy. If you and Joanna want to work with me back home, you better join the wife-swap syndicate we run on the Coast. And you know the conditions of entry -- one new couple to swell the ranks every three months. Here's your admission fee handed to you on a plate! With Nina's little camera and her steward boyfriend's bag o'tricks it should be what our buddy calls a piece of cake!"
He turned to stare after the handsome, tanned young American boy and his curvaceous wife as they stepped off the gangplank and walked towards the companionway leading down to "B" Deck. "Just dig that tight little ass!" he said, pursing his lips in a soundless whistle.
Joanna Grant slipped her arm through Harriet's. "That poor gal looks kinda lost to me," she said. "Maybe you and I should go ask her if there's anything we can do to put her wise to the way things are run around here The brunette's wide mouth curved into a knowing smile and she nodded approvingly as they moved away.
Bob had turned his back on the glittering crescent of azure sea and the colorful coastline beyond. He was signaling to a white-coated steward with a lined face and crafty eyes as the gangplank rattled aboard and the heavy pulse of the Arcadia's turbines throbbed through the ship.
"Alfie," he called. "Could you come over here a minute, please? There's a little job you could do for me . . .
