Much too badly for her finger-fucking of herself, here in the darkness and privacy of her own bedroom, to have any real impact on her.
Oh, she will get herself off all right, in a manner of speaking.
A short, mild series of twinges, the faintest shadow of the multiple orgasms she would like to invoke from deep within herself, the kind that send her to another world, a private sexual paradise.
The biggest high.
The ultimate pleasure.
That, she reminds herself, as though needing to reorient herself to her actual requirements, that is what she really needs.
But that is unavailable to her.
Not at this hour of the night.
Not with her parents asleep just down the hallway, here in this large house which has been her home lo these past eighteen years.
And such unavailability is indeed frustrating to her.
There's Brad and Steve and Tim and a couple of other studs from her high school graduating class who could more than satisfy this burning need, this imperative urge which is the constant companion of her leisure hours.
Especially now, in this magic time, this summer between high school and college, this time of absolute leisure, of unadulterated freedom.
Or so it was intended to be.
Until her parents had a better idea.
All excited, they were.
Not for themselves, but for her.
As these friends of theirs, mere acquaintances, actually, happened to mention at a cocktail party that they were taking a cruise to the Mediterranean this summer and would be only too happy to have Cindy accompany them.
Her parents were overwhelmed.
They jumped at the chance.
And killed Cindy's dream of a hot, steamy, writhing, squirming summer, with one muscle stud after another, the jocks of her choice, days, nights, weekends, engaged in one long orgy, giving her that feeling that was like no other, again and again.
One last, long party it was to be, before going off to college.
Where, her parents constantly reminded her, she would be expected to get top marks, would be required to really buckle down, to study, to work, to comprehend as she had never before studied, worked, comprehended.
And it was perhaps for this very reason, in order to compensate her for the stringent requirements, this burden they were putting on her spoiled brat shoulders, that they saw fit to reward her ahead of time with this fabulous cruise on the Steeles' motor yacht.
Because, wealthy as her parents are, there is no way they were in the Steeles' league.
A financial wizard, is Birmingham ("call me Brim") Steele.
And the motor yacht is partly for business, as he explained to Cindy's parents, for entertaining those with whom he intended to invest and such.
In some ingenious fashion, Brim actually made money with the fabulous ship, something to do with tax write-offs or depreciation, things parenthetically mentioned to Cindy by her father, lest she think her own old man some kind of underachiever.
Actually, Cindy could have cared less.
And secretly, she was horrified by the news that her summer was to be thus interfered with, quite possibly even ruined.
Because the Steeles are old, for heaven's sake!
That Brim is fifty if he's a day, and Samantha is in her early forties.
And probably their idea of a good time is merely sailing the high seas on their ocean-going vessel, where they dress for dinner every evening and live the elegant life.
Which is not at all where Cindy's interests lie.
She knows what she wants.
And certainly, she knows where to get it.
And she surely won't get it at sea with the stodgy old Steeles.
She has only met them once, at some charity black tie wing ding she was forced to attend with her parents last summer.
And sure this Brim Steele might have been a hell of a stud once, with his large frame, his deep tan, and thick, curly, steel-grey hair, but he had to be over the hill by now.
Besides, his wife was certainly amply equipped, almost too much so, to handle his remaining requirements in the sack.
With her cow-like udders swelling above the top of her low-cut evening gown, her d�colletage almost the equal of Cindy's own.
Except, as Cindy recalls thinking, those balloons of hers had to be held in place by a chain hoist, whereas Cindy's own boobs were naturally high, all by themselves.
But that was her first and only meeting with the Steeles, who did not strike her as being particularly fun people, probably because they aren't.
And now, she is stuck with this moronic cruise.
And there was no reprieve.
Her parents went out of their way to ensure that there would be no last-minute hangups, and this to the point of getting her excused from the waning days of school for half a day in order to get her passport taken care of.
And it's really a bummer, Cindy thinks, as her body climaxes, vaginal convulsions milking two fingers of the meager pleasure they can afford for one, two ... there, three mild spasms.
All this really great cock she is going to be missing out on.
As her parents act like they have managed the greatest thing in the whole world just for her, and isn't she simply the luckiest girl alive to be off on this great adventure?
And wasn't it just super of the Steeles to invite her?
Yeah, right.
Cindy wipes her fingers on a tissue from the box on her night stand.
Get used to this, she tells herself. It's all the thrills you'll be getting for the next two months.
And then, she will have to return to face the mad scramble of preparation for college away from home.
The shopping, the trying on, the packing and then, the incarceration, the imprisonment behind a wall of books and lectures and study, study, study.
If only, she thinks.
If only they hadn't gone to that stupid cocktail party, her parents.
If only they hadn't run into the Steeles there.
If only Samantha Steele hadn't remembered their "charming and lovely" daughter.
And Cindy forces a resounding fart, there in the darkness.
How does that grab ya for charming and lovely, Samantha-baby? she thinks.
But that is mere impotent, childish defiance.
Because she is going on that fucking yacht.
No way she can get out of it.
No way she could have posted the least misgiving about it, either.
Because then she would have to explain why.
She would have to tell her parents some bullshit story.
Because she could never, never tell them the truth.
Which is that she really needs her steady supply of cock.
Because all other experience pales by comparison.
She gets no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill her at all.
But she gets a kick out of cock.
Yes, that is the only genuine thrill in her existence, if they must know.
Which they must not.
The truth is that that feeling, that is the ultimate, the only truth.
The rest of the world-its history, its artifacts, its sights to see, its knowledge-all that is empty bullshit.
Big deal, who did this, who built that.
Who gives a shit, all right?
The real thing, the only thing that counts in this life, in this world is that feeling.
Going for the multiple, as one of her girlfriends calls it.
Compared to that, what is all this other stuff, if not the flotsam and jetsam of reality, the excess, the waste from it?
Because the kernel, the core, the essence of meaningful existence, of the meaning of her being here at all, is right down there between her legs.
There, and in her mind when it is in its right mode, that is, appreciating, savoring, wallowing in the sensations the body is generating for its delectation.
A cruise.
What the fuck does she want with a mother-fucking cruise?
What is so great about an empty ocean?
What is so fantastic about the Mediterranean?
And, as for this fabulous ship, in plain words, who the fuck cares?
Okay, Brim, so you're a fucking financial genius.
So you got it made.
And the ship proves it, proves that you are head and shoulders, even torso and groin, above all the rest of us.
Big fucking deal, Brim!
You're still old, you're still boring.
And I will outlive you.
And Cindy is unabashed in her spite.
How dare this pompous ass inflict her with the evidence of his wealth?
How dare he foist his chosen lifestyle upon her, making her an involuntary part of it?
Live your life and let me live mine, dammit! she thinks.
But then, she thinks this quite often.
As when her parents attempt to force their outlook and values upon her.
So that, quite often, seated at the supper table, she looks at them and thinks, I don't wanna know these people!
Because, actually, what can they do for her?
Nothing.
That's the truth of it.
They could stay out of her way and not always be making suggestions or giving her orders or, as now, presenting her with unsolicited and sudden re-programming of part of her life.
And yet, she has known how to be careful, to proceed with caution, to be charming and tactful and even accepting all of the time.
With one major exception.
Decent girls don't need the pill, Mother?
Okay, fine.
But whatever happens, it'll be your fault.
Because I tried to be reasonable, to be realistic.
And that isn't working, obviously.
So fine.
You don't want to get me a doctor's prescription, to let me guarantee my own health and safety, fine.
Just be prepared to explain a big belly under my cocktail dress at one of those little soirees of yours down the line, okay?
And her mother backed down.
She understood just enough to know that she would have to allow Cindy to take care of at least this aspect of her own life.
And consoled herself with actual relief that her daughter should be thus concerned.
Because accidents happen, accidents in the form of moments of weakness, so why take chances?
Thus her mother reasoned, allowing Cindy to change her thinking on the subject, to cave in at least this much to the fact that her daughter is now a woman rather than a little girl.
But of course, her mother has no inkling of the fact that she is much, much more than merely preparing herself against a possible but unlikely eventuality.
Her parents have no idea of what a hot number she actually is. Or do they?
Not to get paranoid, here in the darkness, when she should be fast asleep, but could this cruise thing actually have, as its underlying, its real motivation, getting her away from her friends, separating, isolating her between now and college?
So that nothing can happen to upset their plans for her?
So that she will be absolutely guaranteed ready and in position for college?
If that is the case, then this trip is doubly a waste.
Because it was going to happen anyway, college.
She knows that she needs a college education.
She is no fool.
Her parents' fortune is not hers, after all.
And she will need to know how to do something to make her own way, to earn the money which is the only rescue device from concerns and preoccupation with mundane existence, a thing which is double bullshit.
Because she must be free, free, free to pursue her own lifestyle.
She must be absolutely unrestricted in her taking advantage of what the world has to offer to this fabulous, sexy body of hers.
Only thus can she know true happiness.
Or so she tells herself.
But it does make sense, at least to her.
And what is this, what is happening to her now, if not a prime example of financial dependency.
If she had a million dollars of her own, if she had an adequate, steady income, if she had a place of her own, would she have to put up with this stupid, fucking bullshit for one second?
Clearly, she would not.
Who knows?
Maybe something good will come out of this trip after all.
Maybe, at one of their formal candlelight dinners on deck in a calm sea, Brim will pontificate to her in a loud voice the secret of eternal wealth.
Yeah, right.
Fat chance.
She is not only not going to be able to do anything on this trip, she will not even learn anything from it.
Just enjoy yourself, dear, it's your last chance to relax.
Yeah, right on, Mom, Dad.
Because the only thing that she finds relaxing is a good, healthy fuck.
And the fun and games which precede it and the contentment of the aftermath which follows it.
And the promise of more, more, more.
Because, dammit, when all is said and done, that is, that has to be, what life-real life, and not life as some philosopher would have us believe-is all about.
And if her parents, if the rest of the world are too dumb to see that, tough shit.
But of course, she will have to play along, will have to go along with them for a while, for the next four years, at least.
But then, ah then!
She will live life as it was meant to be.
A continuous and delightful physical experience.
And she will be able to openly proclaim what she must now carry within herself as a secret but revealed truth.
The rest is bullshit.
Anything outside herself and her own physical pleasure is excess, is untrue, is garbage and is to be used in furtherance of her lifestyle or ignored as she sees fit.
And if the rest of the world doesn't like it, tough shit, is all she can say.
Assuming, that is, that she will be in a position of having to say anything.
Because she intends having as little contact as possible with losers.
Yes, she tells herself, my future looks great.
Even if my now happens to suck.
But there is nothing she is going to be able to do about this tonight.
And thus, her temporary impotence confirmed and accepted, she sleeps.
* * *
"Lovely party, Samantha!"
"Thank you so much Evelyn!"
"Oh, not at all!
"It is we who should thank you for inviting us, and above all for this absolutely fantastic thing you're doing for Cindy, taking her along and all."
"Brim and I are only too happy to do so.
"After all, we never had any children of our own.
"We've missed out on a lot, I imagine, and we'd just like to enjoy the company of a well turned out youngster.
"You know, one of those what might have been type things."
"Yes, well, I hope you won't be too terribly disappointed, Samantha.
"Lovely girl and all, don't get me wrong."
"And we're certainly very proud of her, Harold and I, let that be well understood."
"But. Up here," pointing to her head, "nothing, you know?"
"Well, it isn't exactly her fault.
"Or anyone else's for that matter, Evelyn.
"At that age, they haven't been anywhere, haven't seen anything, so of course they don't know what it's all about."
"My only regret is that this trip won't be more educational for her."
"Oh, don't worry. She has enough of that ahead of her before she returns."
"This is to be her one last fling before the reality of university life hits her."
"I'm sure she'll do just fine, Evelyn."
"Harold and I have every confidence, but thanks for your vote, anyway."
Cindy floats among the guests.
She is the youngest one here, she notes.
And she is to be the only passenger other than the Steeles on the voyage.
Truly amazing, she thinks, how she got herself roped into a deal like this.
If only, she thinks. If only this were the background, the window dressing to a truly wonderful affair with some handsome stud.
Then it would be perfect.
Because she can see this, she really can, for herself, for her hypothetical lover.
It's like a set for a James Bond movie, full of opulence and luxury, exotic and bespeaking untold wealth and nefarious, elaborate plots behind it, sustaining it.
Even though she knows that Brim Steele is no Ernst Stavro Blofeld.
Nor does she see anyone around who could possibly be the superhero superspy himself.
And that's what makes all this such bullshit.
Given one good stud, it would all make sense.
But she sees no real candidates even for that.
There is nobody about with whom she could sneak off, closeting herself with him in a secured cabin for a fast fuck.
And, in the process, giving the facilities real meaning.
That is what makes them bullshit, she tells herself, their lack of appropriate function for what really matters.
I am ready, dammit! she tells herself, smiling prettily at the guests as she sweeps through them in her lilac cocktail dress, champagne glass in hand.
As she carries it for appearance.
She does not care for champagne, really.
She does not appreciate its cidery taste, its sour aftermath in her mouth.
She would actually prefer beer and pizza.
But nothing could be farther from the spirit of this place, this happening.
Or rather, this non-happening, this non-event.
"Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?"
Brim Steele, looking massive in his white jacket with red carnation and cummerbund, is smiling down at her.
"Oh, very much so, Mr. Steele," she replies.
"Please. Call me Brim. Everyone does, and we shall be travelling together for a very long time, as two months must seem, at your age."
"They say time flies when you're enjoying yourself," Cindy observes.
"Ah, do I hear a challenge?"
"I didn't mean-"
"No, no, no, not at all, my dear."
"Permit me to accept it as such."
"And allow me the opportunity to rise to the occasion."
"I shall do my utmost to make your vacation memorable."
"Just being here is-"
"Is boring, tedious, frustrating.
"Is missing your friends and the things you were going to do together.
"Is the turning of what was to have been a magic time, a time apart, a time between, a time of utter freedom into a dead space, a void in your life."
Cindy is speechless.
What is he doing, reading her mind.
And the truth of his words must show in her eyes, because-
"I see I have hit the nail on the head."
"Please, it is not a trick of some kind."
"Your age, your attributes, your obvious capacity for the real, the physical side of life-all bespeak interests which must lie elsewhere."
"And that champagne must be quite flat by now."
"No, it's fine."
Said abstractly, her gaze affixed to his.
Because he has said it all.
Most of it, anyway.
And if he knows that much-no.
This yacht, the formal attire, the mature company, all militate against this.
Because his world is far, far from even that of her parents, let alone herself.
So that he couldn't possibly-never mind.
That is just her hominess leading her astray.
That is just her desire, her sense of loss at what might have been and now can never be, creating fantasies of the situation overcome, of fulfillment achieved.
And besides, far from being the solution to her needs, he is the author of their denial, of their frustration.
But for him and his money and his stupid boat here, she could even now be in some motel room, her own young, agile body writhing voluptuously in sweaty embrace with some young stud as his hips pound his stomach against the cheeks of her ass as his prick pistons wetly in and out of her hot, juicy, sucking cunt.
No, most likely, this is just more bullshit.
Perhaps the cook has developed a brandy and pepper sauce for the lobster to excite her palate.
Big fucking deal.
Or he will conduct her on a tour of this wondrous vessel.
Another big deal.
Being young and impressionable as she appears to be, Brim has every right to assume that she will be overwhelmed by his ostentatiousness and wealth, as symbolized by the ship.
Surely these are the devices he will use to attempt to combat her ennui.
Enough money, enough of the things that money can buy, and voil, thrilled young lady.
Except that she is no lady, she is a woman in the full, the biological sense, desiring, requiring only a woman's pleasure, the pleasure that lies within, the pleasure which is of and in and from and by the body.
And which can be obtained in only one way.
And they, all of them-her parents the Steeles, the world-have conspired to separate her from the source of her only true happiness.
And they will not get away with it.
No, retribution will surely seek them out.
If there's anything akin to justice in the world.
Chapter Two
Underway, at last, Cindy thinks.
And she is glad, for the simple reason that as soon as they begin, just that much sooner will her ordeal come to an end.
Her cabin is luxurious, much more so than her room at home.
And the food is out of this world, if the bon voyage party is any indication, as she is sure that it is.
Still, these things are absurd.
That is, they bear no relationship to her interests, her desires.
As accoutrements, supporting elements to an atmosphere in which she and a lover-any lover- would be the centerpiece, they would be ideal, of course.
But as things now stand, they are merely the bars of a gilded cagen in which she now finds herself trapped.
So that she cannot take any joy in them, indeed feels a resentment beginning to smolder within herself.
Fate has not been kind to her.
She is not a happy camper.
And will not be, she suspects, until she is safely back at home.
Not that she misses the house or her parents; on the contrary, home is her base of operations, her central dispatching point for herself.
Indeed, under her original plan, she would very seldom have been actually found at home.
Bummer, she thinks.
Meaning this whole scene.
Still, she managed to put up a good front, resisting the temptation to ask her mother, who was actually crying as she embraced her farewell, that if she missed her so much, why in the hell is she making her take this stupid trip?
When her parents finally left the party, she was relieved, without exactly knowing why.
Perhaps it was being on her own, just as she wanted to be most of the summer, if only for a few hours.
Just until the rest of the guests left, in accordance with the schedule of sailing on the tide, lest the ship end up requiring tug service, as was explained in the invitations.
Telling his guests that yes, the Steele vessel is that big.
Classed as a pleasure craft for tax purposes, the motor yacht has an engine one step removed from that of an ocean liner, a fact Brim was quick to point out to an inquiring guest, who made an appropriately impressed face.
Good for you Brim.
Hooray for you Samantha.
But what about me?
Face it, kiddo, she tells herself, you are on hold.
Sad but true, babe, and not a damn thing you can do about it.
Except, she reflects, to go to bed.
And wake up in the morning surrounded by the ocean.
And goes to sleep.
And does not feel the motion of the vessel as it plows through the calm water.
And does not hear the horns sounding, warning or replying or both, as the ship wends its way down the river and into the open ocean.
She sleeps soundly, subconsciously aware of the futility of doing anything else.
* * *
Morning.
And Cindy showers.
And her shampoo seems to have difficulty lathering up.
And the water stings her eyes when she accidentally opens them too soon.
And she tastes the water on her lips.
Salt.
So, she thinks, for all its luxurious appointments, this is not exactly the QEII.
And she wonders if the master bedroom is similarly served.
She dresses in short shorts, a halter, and deck shoes.
It's very early in the morning, even though they are sailing against the clock.
She goes down the carpeted corridor and up onto the deck.
Nobody about, apparently, although undoubtedly one of the ship's four officers is up on the bridge, manning the wheel.
The bridge, she thinks. Now, just where would that be?
And she climbs higher, going up a metal stairwell onto the next level.
Where she hears voices, laughter, coming from the stern.
Curious, she walks back that way.
It could only be the crew and this is the direction of the crew's quarters.
And sure enough, there they are, three of them.
Naked, on the deck, under three shower heads.
Which, unlike her own, with its adjustable temperature, has only cold water, pumped, apparently, directly from the ocean.
And it must be very cold.
Because that is what the laughter is about, the humor of cold water shock administered by themselves to themselves by pulling a chain attached to a lever which releases the thick stream from coarsely pierced shower heads which splashes at their feet against an open aluminum grille work pad, then rolls over the side, back into the ocean from whence it came.
Young, they are.
And handsome and muscular and very, very hung, as they dance around beneath the water, alternately gasping for breath and soaping themselves up.
Cindy is one flight up from them, looking down at them, across the expanse of the ship's swimming pool.
Not a very large pool, to be sure, but nonetheless qualifying as one in which it is possible to swim six or seven body lengths.
Undoubtedly, none of the Steeles' many friends and acquaintances have a similarly located pool, Cindy thinks, which is probably the whole idea.
And these shower heads actually serve the pool area.
The crew members don't see Cynthia standing there.
But she cannot take her eyes off of them.
Not one, not two, but three, count them, three examples of exactly that equipment for which she so longs.
But now, even as she watches, the first one finishes, drying himself vigorously with his towel and padding, naked, to the ladder which will take him back to the crew's quarters.
The second one follows suit.
And even now, the third one dries himself.
Alarmed, feeling an urgent sense of loss somehow, Cindy cannot resist.
"Hello!"
The sailor looks up.
And grins at the sight of her, making no attempt to cover himself.
"Hello yourself!" he says.
"Can I-talk to you?" she asks, looking about for the way down and spotting it.
"Talk," he replies, draping his towel around his waist, to Cindy's disappointment.
"You work on the ship?" she asks. "I mean, of course I know you work on the ship."
"What I meant is, what is it you do on the ship?"
"Maintenance, uh ... ma'am."
Adding this last reluctantly.
"You can call me Cindy," Cindy says. "I'm nobody around here. Just a guest."
"My parents are friends of the Steeles."
"Well, not exactly friends. More like acquaintances, actually."
"You can't really be friends with somebody in this league-" looking around her, indicating the ship, "-unless you have one of these yourself."
"Or could have, if you wanted one," the sailor adds. "By the way, I'm Bill."
"Barnacle Bill the sailor?"
"Right. I'm way too good looking to be Popeye."
They laugh.
"So, Bill, what brings you out on such a cold morning?"
"Not going out, actually. Just coming in off my watch."
"Watching what?"
"The gauges and machinery of the engine compartment."
"Coming off watch."
"Does that mean you're off duty now?"
"For the next twelve hours, yes. Why?"
"Wanna take in a movie or go to Burger King?"
"Yeah, right," she says, wondering if he knows how badly she would like to do just that.
And this her first day at sea.
"No, but uh, maybe I could offer you a warm shower, in place of the cold one you just had."
"Sounds good to me, Cindy, but uh, we're really not allowed in the guests' quarters, except for cleaning and repairs."
"I don't think you've all that much to worry about at this hour, Bill."
And he looks her up and down.
"Me neither. Let's go."
* * *
She covers his mouth with her own as she falls with him onto the bed, sideways.
There is no other way to do this, she thinks.
Why bother with still more bullshit?
Been too much of that already, so far as she is concerned.
He loses his towel in the process, ignoring it, fumbling for her breasts, freeing them from below with both hands.
And he feels the coldness from his shower, leaving his body, dissipating like the morning mist under a bright sun.
As he squeezes and fondles her large, firm breasts.
As he slides down on top of her, so that his mouth can reach the doorbells of her nipples.
And now, he continues to suck and manipulate them, mouth going from one to the other and back again, her nipples becoming firm and rubbery, the glands behind them engorging as well.
As her face and upper body turn red with the engorged blood of her mounting passion.
And he redoubles his efforts, encouraged by her moaning and heavy breathing.
As he realizes that this is not just somebody's jaded, spoiled brat on an outing, taking advantage of the situation, but rather a young woman of genuine lust.
Who is not doing this just for the record, just so that she could say that she got laid by some sailor in the middle of the ocean.
Rather, hers is a genuine, if impersonal desire.
Oh, he does not deceive himself, handsome as he is, hung as he is, even talented as he is showing himself to be, that it was love at first sight or anything like that, on her part.
Because, had it been either of the others or, for that matter, any other sailor subject, he would like to believe, to certain minimum standards, why, the result would still have been the same.
Luck of the draw, this is.
Still, where would we be, any of us, without the occasional stroke of good luck, if only to compensate, in part, for all the bad luck we must inevitably encounter.
Such is the human condition.
So that he does not resent in the least her arbitrary picking of him.
Which, in the event, may have been arbitrary but is certainly not casual.
No, there is a genuine deep feeling, perhaps merely for her own lascivious desires, for the sexual sensations which even now begin illuminating her entire body through the beacons of her nipples, but true, deeply felt emotion nonetheless.
And he, alongside herself, an immediate beneficiary of her desire, her reactions.
So that now, enthused and thoroughly aroused by her, he slides down her body, helping himself to mouthfuls of her young, firm flesh, the salt water tang of her sexual sweat now greater than that of the residue from her shower or his.
As he works his way closer and closer to her bush.
He circles her deep navel with his tongue, feels the beginning of her pubic hairs, and now plunges into her snatch, wallowing, mouth open.
So that he chews her whole twat, hair, lips and all.
As his tongue seeks her smooth, drooling slit.
And finds it.
And travels up, up, up to the nub of her joy buzzer.
And strums it with his tongue, vibrating against it, feeling it too engorge.
And he warms to his task, staying right there, on target.
As he shafts his tongue in and out, in and out of her hot, juicy cunt.
As he stays in contact with her clit the whole time, whether entering or retracting, his taste and desire for her as genuine as is hers for him.
Meaning that feeling, at once calming and exciting, which tells her that she is on the threshold of once again experiencing the ultimate pleasure.
So that all that leads up to it becomes, in turn, more intense, anticipatory as it is of still greater pleasure to come.
Because this stud will not let her down; she knows this.
His own lust is too forceful, too ardent.
And his equipment too virile, too potent, too much in working order to admit of that possibility.
No he is with her, now and through what is to come, all the way.
No question.
So that she can relax.
But not as a corpse or as one asleep. .
Rather, it is her mind, the tension, the incessant scheming, the restless wandering of it that she is now free to abandon.
Yes, she is free to surrender to her body, free to let it respond freely.
And she does so now, clearing her mind of all but the flood of sexual arousal which is even now welling up from within herself, her clit broadcasting it, radiating it in all directions, so that it fills her to her outermost extremities.
And continues to pulse through her, surge after surge, each a separate and distinct thrill of sexual electricity.
As each builds upon the one before.
And now, they are coming faster and faster, the rushes, the waves of exhilaration.
And this, this, this! is what it is all about.
And now, she misses nothing.
Not home, not the guys, not even the game plan, now abandoned, for her magic summer.
Because this is precisely what all that was designed to lead to.
And now, she has arrived.
She has overcome, she has triumphed, in the face of overwhelming odds.
And yet, such is the intensity of her sexual drive, such the strength of her lust, that she does not even savor, does not even consider this a victory.
Things like victory and defeat elude her consciousness at the moment.
As do things like left and right, up and down.
Or her own name.
No, there is nothing, nothing, nothing in evidence here to tie her in with her surroundings, be they opulent or utter trash.
Because time stands still for her now.
And there is only her now, and no past, no future.
Because she is on her own tangent, in a parallel universe, a universe which has been generated within herself by the ardent attentions of her sailor lover of the moment.
Because she has imbued him with supreme importance, appointing him sole citizen and co-occupant of the universe which they have created together for themselves, for each other.
And outside them, outside the two of them, there is nothing.
It is all revealed for what it is, mere illusion, excess, the detritus, the residue of the senses, serving only to create the preamble to the situation, to engender its frame of reference for the sole purpose of establishing a new one.
So that the fabric of reality is merely the first stage of a rocket which, having done its task, an important one at the time, perhaps, has now outlived its usefulness.
And so can be safely, conveniently discarded, its value a thing of the past, a past which no longer exists.
So that now, there is only him and her. And the turgid, vibrant connection between them, uniting them.
And the sensations, the envelope of raw sexuality of pure sexual pleasure which surrounds them, cocoon-like.
Oh yes, this is where it's at, all right!
And her philosophy of life, if such it can be called, is once again confirmed.
Here is truth.
Which is the truth of the body.
Which is the only absolute truth she knows, has ever known.
Her body does not lie to her, does not attempt to delude her.
Rather, it receives true, accurate sensation, to which it truly, accurately reacts.
And thus is generated more feeling, more sensation, better, stronger, hotter, building on the feelings, the sensations already present.
And she rises higher and higher, propelled effortlessly on the wings of her own ever-mounting passion.
Until, at last, there is nothing but pleasure residing within her.
Strong it is, all-powerful and invincible.
And becoming stronger, still more powerful, more overwhelming by the second.
With every lunge, every withdrawal of Bill's powerful prick, his mighty monolith of monster meat.
Which moves in and out, in and out, piston-like, resembling one of those pieces of machinery for which he is responsible, so mechanical, so steady and dependable is its functioning.
And he has turned her cunt into a hot, drooling, hungry mouth.
Which sucks his cock, from base to head with each lunge, each withdrawal.
And his balls, big and ovoid, locked tightly to the base of his big baton, seem to drive the shaft in and out, in and out with ever greater speed, force, intensity.
So that now, he is going all out.
As the pressure of his pleasure builds and builds within him.
So that he is rising, right along with her, toward their private, shared sexual paradise.
Lost within each other and within their own pleasure, they are.
Not knowing and not caring where they are.
Able only to feel the tingling, electric current of their ever-increasing arousal.
As delight becomes ecstasy.
As ecstasy gives birth to rapture.
As their rapture carries them away, whirling in the eddies of raw sexual sensation which inundate and permeate them.
Onward and upward they soar, borne aloft on the wings of their ever-increasing pleasure.
Whose pressure builds and builds within them.
And Bill has set his delaying mechanism.
Locking his nuts, as it is called.
But that is a lock whose key lies in the degree, the intensity of his arousal, the depth and breadth of his passion.
For that is a lock which must be forced, and which will be.
As the pressure within him, within the two of them, the pressure of their pleasure, the forerunner of the pleasure beyond pleasure flexes and expands within them to the maximum of their capacity to contain it.
So that now, the both of them are hovering on the brink, standing at the summit of their own lust, feeling the push from within, the attraction from above.
And now, yielding to it.
So that here, here! is the series of multiple orgasms which she knew resided within herself, crying out desperately for release, and for the actions leading to such release.
Even as he meets her, spasm for spasm, with the bursts of his thick, hot jism as he injects them in and in and into her, again and again.
So that now, they are climaxing together, matching spurt for spasm.
As the powerful contractions of her snapping pussy seem to milk him of his load.
As he continues the action, his humping furious, relentless, not in the least affected by his reaching his climax, not as long as he continues to shoot and shoot, discharging his mighty sex cannon into her, again and again.
Even as orgasm after orgasm seizes her, jerking her now this way, now that.
So that only the pressure of his body, the action of his prick are able to restrain her, to hold her in place.
And they zoom and soar through the rosy empyrean of their sexual paradise.
As he and she, lost in each other, live, truly live this precious and isolated recess in the stream of time which stands still for them.
Until, at last, the series of spasms, his and hers, subsides, then ceases altogether.
And they collapse together, a couple of limp rag dolls.
As the sudden relaxation, the sapping of their drive, sweeps over them like a wave of weakness.
So that awareness of reality returns to them, but not freedom of movement.
Because they are drained, dissipated, at the moment.
And cannot move.
And have no desire to do so.
Although he has become but a lump of attractive, if useless flesh to her.
Although she has become the mere receptacle of the discharge of his passion to him.
Although they are now completely separate entities, no part of him in her, and vice versa.
But time passes and duty and discretion press for attention.
And must be given their do.
Because she must not be indiscrete.
Although she has no intention of letting him get away without servicing her again.
And again and again, as often as required.
Why not?
It's to be a long cruise.
And she does not know what Brim was alluding to, with his undefined promises of making things interesting for her.
But that doesn't matter now.
Not anymore.
Not now, now that she has Bill here. Whose schedule she will find a way to accommodate.
Whose cock she will have in her, as desired.
Because, dammit, she will not be cheated of the object of her lust!
Perhaps, she tells herself, she will flatter Brim, will appeal to his vanity and pride.
And take a genuine interest in the operation of the ship, becoming oriented to the routine and duties of the crew which so ably services it.
So that she is not anxious to prolong this present visit.
She will see him again.
But for now, he must hurry and take the hot shower she promised, and then be on his way, lest he be missed.
And he does so, managing at last to bestir himself, forcing himself to move into the shower, there to revive.
"I will-be with you again, won't I?" he asks.
"Count on it!"
Chapter Three
Cindy dozes off, truly relaxed for the first time since her parents hit her with the "good news" about the trip.
So that the soft ringing of the telephone on the night stand beside her bed awakens her.
She opens her eyes, not comprehending what that steady ringing could possibly be, here in a ship's cabin.
But the light on the telephone housing blinking in time to the ring alerts her.
Incredulous, she sits up, looking at it.
Then, she reaches over and picks it up.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Cindy."
"This is Brim."
"Did I awaken you?"
"No, I was, I mean yes, I guess you did."
"Come join me on the deck for breakfast, won't you?"
"Oh uh, certainly ... Brim. I'll be there very shortly."
* * *
And she is.
There is Brim, seated on deck before a massively spread table, spread buffet style, and containing everything one could possibly want for breakfast, in warmers or iced trays, as appropriate.
It reminds Cindy of similar tables at a resort hotel in the Poconos at which she stayed with her parents when she was little.
Roughing it, they jokingly termed it, meaning that the guests were required to serve themselves.
"Ah, there you are!" Brim says, rising. "I trust that you found the, ah, the amenities ... satisfactory?"
She looks at him oddly.
What a strange way to refer to her accommodations- if that is in fact all he is referencing.
"Uh, yes, they were, are ... excellent."
"Good, good!
"Well, you just help yourself here. As you can see, there's plenty."
"Indeed there is! Cooking for a crowd, we'd call it at home."
"Expecting others?"
"Oh, the ship's officers will breakfast later, after we're through."
"Where is Samantha?"
"She's still in our cabin, getting a massage."
"One of the crew is quite adept at it."
"But then, we do have a very talented ship's roster."
And he looks at her meaningfully. And Cindy pauses as she dishes up eggs and sausages for herself.
And then continues.
If he knows, he knows.
So what?
She's an adult and can do as she pleases.
Not that her parents would understand.
What do they know of her drives, her needs?
How could she ever explain to them the world as it is for her on this beautiful morning and the world as it would have been, viewed through the shit-colored glasses of her unquenched lust, her unslaked desire?
How could she tell them that what she had earlier with Bill is as necessary to her as food and water, rest and sunlight?
They would call her perverted and blame themselves for having brought her up badly.
They would castigate themselves first and then her.
And, unable to live with the guilt, would no doubt banish her to some far-flung outpost of higher learning, never to darken their doorway again.
Or something equally melodramatic.
So that this could be, in that sense, trouble for her.
Except.
This is Brim's ship and he is absolutely responsible for anything and everything that happens on board.
So that, even if he knows, he is hardly in a position to blow the whistle on her.
That would be stupid.
And, while she doesn't know Brim very well, doesn't really know him at all, her impression is that he is anything but stupid.
"What would you be doing this morning, Cindy, if not for this trip?"
He makes it a casual question, but his gaze is intense.
"I would be with my friends."
Letting him know that he has isolated her, taking her away from people her own age and shared background.
"I would be going to the beach with them, I suppose."
Telling him that he has interfered with her casual good times, her social schedule.
"And, uh, having a good time."
Being blunt, telling him that she is not having one here.
"It's more than that though, isn't it, my dear?" he asks.
"What do you mean, Brim?"
And Brim stops eating, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.
"Do you really think I've forgotten how it was at your age?" he asks. "Or let me be even more specific."
"Do you think that I don't know about that magic time between high school and college, that time of carefree, thoughtless, even mindless casualness?"
"Because if you do, let me assure you, you're wrong.
"I recall only too well those balmy days during the only time in my early life that didn't count."
"That didn't ... count?"
"Exactly, my dear."
"The time that doesn't matter, that you don't have to account for, not to yourself, not to anyone else."
"The time when you are free to do exactly as you please, for perhaps the last, the only time in your life."
Cindy looks at him, amazed.
"So then, if you know all that, then why did you, uh-"
And she gestures all around her.
"To show you a better way, my dear."
"I don't understand, Brim."
"How is this a better way?
"And why should you care, one way or the other?"
"I've-cared, as you put it, ever since the first time I saw you at some ridiculous and boring affair or other."
"Charity dinner," Cindy says, abstractly, staring at him.
"But-"
"Now, now, my dear," Brim says, patting the back of her hand reassuringly, "you mustn't think me a person of some sinister design upon you.
"But."
"I am an excellent judge of character, Cindy.
"It is one of the secrets of my success.
"Or was, back in my early days, when I was first starting out, before the amassing of wealth became impersonal, automatic, practically self-perpetuating."
"And uh, what did you see in my ... character that caused-this?"
"One who deserved ... better."
"Better?"
"Better than that trite, that mundane, that limited good time among your chronies before they go their separate ways.
"Some of them will come to bad ends, some will disappear in mediocrity, most will have to admit that their lives have been failures.
"So that this is both a sad and a magic time for them, Cindy.
"This is the high point in their lives, this time of nothingness."
"It's all downhill from here for them, and they don't even realize it."
"Because that realization will come later, much later for them."
"For now, they are free to use society and their parents' resources as a trampoline for their own amusement, ignoring for the moment the grim world burning down around them, beyond the pale of this amusement park of a few months."
"What's that got to do with-"
"Cindy, you deserve better."
"So do many of your friends."
"Unfortunately, I can do nothing for them."
"But for you, I offer a better time between, a truly magic time, a time that absolutely does not count."
"I have removed you from the context of the mundane, the ordinary."
"I have rescued you, whisking you away to a separate world, here to enjoy to the fullest the magic time, the time between, the time that doesn't count."
"And do what, Brim?" she asks, allowing some of her anger, her resentment to surface in her look, her tone.
"I'd say that this morning wasn't a bad start, Cindy," he replies drily, looking at her, eye to eye, as he resumes eating.
"You, you ... were spying on me?"
"Let us say I had to confirm my suspicions concerning you."
"I had to know, Cindy, if what I thought I saw at our initial encounter was in fact there."
"Then Bill was just a-"
"Oh, please, Cindy!
"Bill is one of my men, doing his job."
"Look around at my crew, Cindy."
"Do you see one among them you'd turn down?"
"Do you think they were picked by accident?"
"Cindy, if there is one thing on which I pride myself, it is being an impeccable host."
"You are not my first guest, nor will you be my last."
"That is the other message for you, Cindy."
"This ship can be, is many things."
"With its elaborate communications system, it is my office away from the office."
"With its guest rooms, staff and facilities, it is a floating resort and palace."
"But it is more than that."
"It is that same time out, that time out of time, that time that doesn't count, that world unto itself of which your intended summer is but the palest of shadows."
"But Bill was a plant?"
"Not at all, my dear, except in a general, preplanned way, in which I try to see to it that my personnel are fully capable of satisfying my guests' every possible whim."
"What happened between you and him was entirely spontaneous, within the context of this ship, I can assure you."
"And observed," Cindy adds.
"Yes, but only in order to assure myself that I had read the indicators in you correctly."
"But why?"
"Oh, come now, Cindy, I should think that would be more than obvious, to one of your obvious intelligence."
"So then, I'm to work my way over to the Med and back, is that it?"
"Nothing could be farther from the truth, Cindy, and I think you also know that."
"All I ask for is a fair chance."
"If you do not enjoy me, why, we need never be together again."
"And I am not a man who is hurting for, for ... what you have to offer."
"That much should also be obvious to you."
"Nor will I insist that we get together more often than is your desire."
"And in fact, I will even go out of my way to see to it that you have what is indeed a magic time, using the ship's full facilities."
"You see, I have sufficient confidence in myself that I fear no competition."
"We are two of a kind, you and I, Cindy, whether or not you can recognize that fact."
"And certainly, considering the evident disparity of our persons, I can see where that might be difficult to do."
"But believe me, Cindy, underneath, I know it, the hunger, the urge."
Cindy says nothing, but continues to eat.
Brim is smart.
Too smart, maybe.
She is being manipulated.
But still, to what end, if not that of the satisfaction of a hunger which she herself understands only too well?
And, as for his targeting her, well, why not?
Why not go with the best, if you can afford to do whatever is necessary to obtain it?
And, wanting her, how else could he have possibly managed to get at her?
He is not, after all, some twenty year old hunk on the prowl, able to whisper to her at a cocktail party, say, to meet him at such and such a time and place.
Nor is she the kind who would ever consider playing for pay.
So then, what is left to him, if not exactly what he has done?
And if his appetite, his drive is truly as strong, as compelling as her own, then definitely this was the way to go-from his point of view.
As for herself, well, it might prove interesting.
They say variety is the spice of life, she tells herself, and thus far, she has limited herself to her contemporaries.
And in fact, Bill is the oldest guy who ever laid her.
And obviously, Brim thinks he has something to offer in the physical sense, or he would not be pursuing this course of action.
It would be stupid and ridiculous to go to all this trouble and then not be able to do something in the way of performance.
So that now, she is curious and intrigued.
"Then I take it that you would like to, uh, do the deed," she says, adding, "as soon as possible."
Because she has no wish to appear stupid in front of him by saying the obvious, hence must add this last as qualifier.
"That's usually the way appetites such as ours work, isn't it?" he replies. "Why put off until five minutes from now what you can do this very instant, right?"
"Ordinarily.
"It's just that I thought, perhaps, a certain time of day might be better for you."
He chuckles.
"My dear Cindy, I am not some ancient lecher whose candle of lust flickers intermittently."
"You will find in me-never mind."
"Actions speak louder than words, so let us get on with it."
"We'll use one of the spare cabins."
"When you've finished eating, of course."
"Done," she says at once.
"So soon?"
"There are appetites and then there are appetites," she replies, "some more urgent than others."
And he laughs, offering her his arm.
* * *
Brim has a deep sun tan, interrupted in the middle by the outline of the briefest of bikinis in front, the g-string lines in the rear, around the waist and up the center barely discernible.
He is a large man, his skin firm on his slightly overweight body.
But he has a very large cock, its flaccid state at the moment serving only to emphasize its hugeness as it hangs, long and thick and heavy, the massive head with its thick, flared flange at the rear staring at the carpeting.
He is what she supposes would be termed a fine figure of a man, heroically proportioned if not particularly well developed.
She looks him up and down appreciatively.
He has what it takes, she thinks. Now let's see if he knows how to use it.
He begins with his tongue.
And that, he certainly uses to advantage.
As he brings her from curiosity, from the faint tingle of anticipation, to instant arousal.
Because, if his equipment is truly heavy, his tongue proves no less so.
Large, long and thick it is.
And Brim uses it energetically, avidly, expertly.
As he tongue fucks her, the wriggling appendage seeming to have a life of its own, jamming in and out of her, stimulating her joy buzzer each way, sending thrill after thrill of sexual electricity surging through her body, from the center of attention to her farthest extremities.
And only when he has her pussy hot and drooling with her clear juices does he relent, sliding up, up, up her body, between her raised and spread legs.
Until he reaches her breasts, which he cups in both hands, feeding himself first one, then the other, alternating, back and forth, bringing her nipples to erect, rubbery peaks.
And now, he is sucking and sucking her breasts, as though he is a starving infant.
And his cock comes up to full erection, rugged and enormous.
She has only the briefest glimpse of it as, twisting to one side, supporting himself on one hand, with the other, he guides the monster toward its target.
And shafts in, in, into the depths of her hot, juicy pussy.
Stretching and filling it, he is.
And he does not weigh her down with his bulk, either, supporting himself on his elbows and knees, leaving only enough of himself bearing down on her to rub lasciviously against her as he moves.
As move he does.
So that the piston action of his huge prong is smooth, strong and steady.
In and out, in and out he goes, the clinging cylinder of her cunt lubricated with saliva and pussy juice.
So that the action is even and unhindered.
So that there is only the feeling of sexual pleasure, intimate and tingling, as his mighty shaft activates a million points of light within her.
And she does the same for him, activating the entire surface of his prodigious prod, from battering ram head to big balls banging against her buttocks at the base.
As he fucks her, on and on.
And yes, he is good at this, very good.
Good at using the heavy equipment with which nature has so generously endowed him.
So that yes, he is giving her what she wants, what she needs.
He is indeed satisfying her, filling her fulfilling her.
He is bringing her right along, up, up, up the rainbow.
Higher and higher he is boosting her.
As she transcends level after level of her ever-mounting arousal.
So that now, she can relax.
Her mind has done its work.
It has made all the correct decisions, has brought her here, has surrendered her body to him.
So that now, it is all right to go ahead and surrender her mind to her body.
Because the mind, the seat of her appetites, the recognizer of her needs, has no further active role to play at this point.
Rather, its function has become that of mere spectator.
Because the body alone is capable of generating and receiving those sensations which she craves with the innermost depths, with the essence of her very being.
Yes, the body alone can speak the language of sexual arousal, of stimulation, of the complex of sensations which is the erotic communication, the language of cock and cunt, of body to body, of that most intimate of contacts.
And hers does it so very well indeed.
As does his.
So that now, they are rising together toward sexual paradise.
His face is red and so is hers.
His body's flush is slowly spreading, as is hers, with the engorged blood of their heightened passion.
His breathing is labored, hers likewise.
But they are not aware of expending any energy, of exerting any effort at all.
Rather, they are on automatic now, their movements reflexive, instinctive, primordial, those of the ancient beast within them.
Because surely this urge of theirs, this all encompassing, overwhelming lust is that very drive which began the chain of procreation itself, at the dawn of life.
So powerful, so urgent, so compelling is the connection between them, is the grinding and writhing of their bodies that nothing could separate them now, one from the other.
Because this is a fused unity here.
This is that which no man can put asunder.
This is the closed circuit functioning of a hermetically sealed entity, an intimately, furiously, perfectly operating machine of living flesh.
As Brim shows her a part of what he has to offer.
A part.
And not even the tip of the iceberg.
But of course all such thoughts, all such reflections and considerations are deferred until later.
As, right now, they feel the pressure of the pleasure beyond pleasure building and building within themselves.
And they are not stopping to wait for it.
Rather, they continue to grasp for that next level of erotic sensation, that next plateau of shared arousal.
And the next and the next.
Until the pressure of the pleasure within them becomes too much for their bodies to contain and they blow their safety valves.
And they are coming and coming together.
As, once again, the proof of the truth of the ultimate sensation drives itself home inside Cindy, using those arguments of raw sexual pleasure which obviate all philosophy, all discussion.
As the convulsions of her vagina suck and milk and actively caress his discharging cannon again and again, extracting from him jet after jet of jism, gushing uncontrollably into her innermost depths.
As orgasm after orgasm seizes her, transporting her, jerking her this way and that.
As he pounds into her all the way, even through his climax.
Until, at last, they are both finished, the last spasm passing softly through the two of them.
And Brim raises an eyebrow by way of inquiry, looking down at her.
"You were terrific!" she says, enthusiastically.
"And so, my dear, were you."
"Shall we have ourselves a shower?"
And the two of them crowd into the shower stall of the cabin, filling the narrow space with their bodies, which slide and slip deliciously against each other as they clean themselves up.
And Cindy cannot take her eyes off of Brim's heavy equipment, slowly detumescing from its recent ultimate arousal.
He is huge! she thinks.
And she looks forward to doing more with the marvelous tool she sees before her.
So that now, as they dry off and she sees his beef swinging heavily from side to side, she says, "I take it that I can look forward to many happy returns?"
"Indeed you may, my dear," he replies, "and much else besides.
"You have opened the gates to your own private sexual paradise, if Samantha and I have anything to say about it."
"Samantha?"
"Oh dear," he smiles, "I seem to have let the cat out of the bag."
"No matter, though. You would have found out soon enough."
Chapter Four
"So there you are, you two!" Samantha exclaims, at the sight of Brim and Cindy, appearing on the sun deck.
Samantha is already topless, Cindy cannot help but notice, as she sits up, removing her sunglasses as though she must take them off in order to be able to speak.
And, apparently such a state of undress is quite usual with her, judging by the deep tan on her mammoth mammaries, quite in keeping with the tone of the rest of her.
Below, she wears the skimpiest of string bikinis, like Cindy's own.
Or, for that matter, Brim's.
Before them, the pool beckons, its waters crystal clear, inviting instant relief from the heat of the sun.
Cindy knows that it will not be long before she avails herself of its relief.
Because this sun beating down on them is fierce, even at this early hour, as it floats in a cloudless, azure sky.
"Take off your top, my dear, why don't you?" Samantha suggests. "Makes for a much more even sun tan."
Cynthia does so.
"Here, best put this on," Samantha says, handing Cindy a tube of sunscreen.
Cindy liberally smears her breasts first, since they have had almost no sun this season.
Almost, as opposed to none, because she did manage one visit to the nude beach with her friends before this trip came up.
Brim seats himself on the opposite side of Cindy, so that he can be near the bulkhead on which another telephone, plentiful throughout the ship, hangs.
"While you have the tube," Samantha says, "would you mind doing my back?"
"The front has gotten quite enough sun for one day, I should think." And Cindy complies.
As she smears the gel carefully over shoulders and back, working lower and lower, until she reaches Samantha's rounded, ample buttocks, bisected by the string of her bikini.
And Cindy does not hesitate, lingering with her slippery hands and fingers on the prominent twin mounds.
Even when Samantha reaches a hand in back of herself and suddenly pulls the waist string of her bikini down below the cheeks of her ass.
As Brim, reclining on his side, watches the action intently through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
And the wall phone rings, apparently as expected.
"Yes ... Put him through ... Hello, Lon! amarche, alors, tout nos affaires Paris? ... Oui ... Oui ... Mais Lon, je vous ai dj dit que-merde, alors! Cinq minute, s'ils vous plait, pour me permettre d'obtenir les papiers. Un moment."
Brim clicks the receiver.
"Hold this call. Transfer it to the master cabin. I'm going there now."
He hangs up.
"If you ladies will excuse me, my friend in Paris seems to have wandered off the beaten path.
"I must guide him back safely, so carry on."
And Brim, towel in hand, leaves them quickly.
"Nothing serious, I hope," Cindy says.
"Oh, not at all, not at all, I shouldn't think."
"Happens all the time."
"Brim has this ability to switch from business to pleasure and vice versa on a moment's notice.
"One of the keys to his success.
"He's never fully at work, never fully at play.
"Gives him a rather detached view of both, I should think."
"How very clever of him, to manage always to live in both worlds," Cindy observes."
"Oh, not at all."
"I mean he is clever, but actually, work is a form of play to him, a kind of board game."
"You know-Monopoly, Parcheesi, that sort of thing."
"Except that the prizes and the money are real."
"As, of course, are the decisions behind them."
"Still, he doesn't take any of it all that seriously."
"Leon seems to have him fairly upset, though."
"The only real danger, the only real threat to the smooth flow of successful business."
"A man with a better idea, apparently."
"But I thought that was what business is all about, Samantha, better ideas."
"Sometimes, sometimes not."
"Better ideas are a two-edged sword."
"On the one hand, one cannot succeed without them; on the other, it's the better ideas that kill you."
"Words to live by," Cynthia says, continuing to play with the cheeks of Samantha's now bared buttocks.
"Not for you though, my dear," Samantha says, twisting over in her sturdy deck chair, reaching up her hands, pulling Cindy to herself.
"At least not yet. You've a few years to go yet, before you have to start worrying about the so-called better ideas and what to do about them."
And their big jugs, slippery now with sweat and sunscreen, balloon against each other.
"Meanwhile, I think you'll find this a much more interesting game."
And Samantha hugs Cindy to herself with one arm, even as, with the other, she reaches down and inserts a hand between the waist string of Cindy's bikini and Cindy's snatch.
And quickly locates slit and clit.
And now, she is rubbing Cindy's joy buzzer with her finger.
As Cindy lets herself relax, going with the flow of sudden inner warmth.
As her active arousal takes hold.
As she once again finds herself on the right, the true path.
Fulfillment.
That's the name of the game.
To scratch that innermost itch.
To satisfy that most fundamental need.
And now, now the surroundings make sense, have meaning for Cindy.
Because this is righteous, is the swimming pool, the sun deck, the sky above, the ocean all around them.
Because this is the conversion of the world to the supreme cause, to the only true cause, the only one worth striving for.
And yes, it is all, all! a part of that now.
A dozen or so crew to keep the thing running.
Them, and the millions of dollars supporting the entire operation.
Just so that she and Samantha can be doing this right now.
And Cynthia sits up, removing herself momentarily from Samantha's embrace and attentions, but only so that she can remove the bottom of her bikini.
Grinning, Samantha raises her legs and slips her own bottoms off. Why not?
They have converted the whole world to their own use.
And this, they confirm to themselves and each other, as Cindy once again lies down in Samantha's waiting embrace, is the use to which they choose to put it.
Their private world.
A world for just the two of them to do exactly as they please, to please themselves by pleasing each other.
And now, it is Samantha's turn to break the clinch.
But only in order to adjust the sturdy wooden deck chair to the flat position.
And this time, when she lies back down, Cindy bridges her body with her own, knees planted firmly in the pad on both sides of Samantha's body, her face hovering over Samantha's snatch.
Even as her own twat hovers above Samantha's head.
So that Samantha can see cunt and ass hole, their outline blocking the sunlight as she removes her sunglasses, tossing them onto the deck chair vacated by Cindy.
And now, the view moves even closer to Samantha's face.
As Cindy settles her snatch down on Samantha's waiting lips, ass hole inches from her nose.
Even as Cindy's mouth covers Samantha's big, hairy snatch.
And now, the women begin slowly, gently eating each other.
And not in the confines, the privacy of some darkened cabin down below.
Rather, this is done in broad daylight, their heat, their desire not sequestered from the world but a part of it.
That, and more.
Because they are using the world as mere background.
Yes, they are in the foreground of this modified universe they have created, forming it of their own lascivious wills, their own sensual desires.
And now, it is theirs, all theirs.
And there is no part of it which is left out, which is not.
The hierarchical structure of all that is has been re-formed, with themselves at the very pinnacle of existence itself.
And Cindy thinks, the world is not all bullshit after all; that is merely the use most people try to make of it.
Used properly, the world can be a fine and beautiful place.
Cindy knows that now.
As witness-this.
And on that thought, she is flickering her tongue against Samantha's big clit, making it bigger, firmer than ever, even as Samantha's clear, hot pussy juices begin to flow with her incipient arousal.
And Samantha engages in similar efforts on Cindy's equipment.
So that quickly, very quickly, that special magic of two similar creatures doing similar things to one another is formed.
Mirror imaging.
In which what one does to the other, the other returns, tit for tat.
So that no sooner does Samantha make a side trip with her tongue to Cindy's ass hole than Cindy is rimming Samantha.
What one does, the other does.
Until neither can say who is doing the initiating, who the following.
Until neither can say who is doing what to whom.
Because it seems to both of them that they are actually causing what happens to happen within themselves merely by making it happen to the other.
So that a flicker of the tongue here, a lunge into the depths there plays on themselves, on their own bodies exactly, undiminished.
Yes, they have actually found a way to eat themselves.
And so it goes.
As both of them get hotter and hotter, the double action of sex and sun inflicting itself upon them with a vengeance.
So that they are actually becoming light-headed, dizzy and disoriented.
Doubly so, from the combined heat of their own actions and the relentless sun.
As they force each other higher and higher up the rainbow of their shared arousal.
As even now, they feel it within them.
It.
The presence of the pleasure beyond pleasure, a mere pinpoint of intense heat deep within their abdomens.
Which even now begins to expand, each stroke of the tongue seeming to fan its flame, making it glow to incandescence, then begin to expand outward in all directions.
So that now the pressure of the pleasure drives them up, up, up the rainbow, higher and higher, piercing and transcending level after level of arousal.
Until the surges of sexual electricity which pulsate within them become a steady hum.
Which grows louder and louder within them, the blood pulsing at their temples, roaring in their ears.
And still they rise, through ecstasy, through rapture, until they are carried away on the crest of the tidal wave of the pleasure beyond pleasure.
And they share their series of multiple orgasms, twinge after twinge, exquisite and irresistible, of the ultimate pleasure, Cindy's only objective, the centerpiece of her existence.
So that once again she is confirmed.
It doesn't get any better than this.
The problem being that "this" doesn't last.
Not very long, anyway.
True, while she is "there", it's great, fantastic, everything she could have wanted it to be and more.
But.
Sooner or later, she must descend, must float back down to earth, there to linger in the aftermath of passion spent, savoring it, remembering it- above all, missing it, even though it was within her only seconds before.
It is, she supposes, a kind of addiction.
But addiction to what?
Can one be said to be addicted to a fundamental truth?
Are enlightenment and addiction one and the same, in her case?
Because she regrets nothing, feels no sense of waste, feels, on the contrary a sensation of having accomplished something very, very positive, of having once again done the only thing on earth really worth doing.
And if this be addiction, then all she can do is to make the most of it.
As, even now, she lands back on earth with Samantha.
And peels off of her at once.
And plunges into the middle of the pool in the middle of the deck in the middle of the ocean.
And knows, beyond all question, that she is at the center of her chosen world.
And, if there is a lot here, was a lot here already, it nonetheless requires her presence to give it meaning, to complete it.
Because only thus does it have any real function at all, in the absolute sense.
It is not just the plunge.
It is not just the plunge into this particular pool at this specific moment in time that counts.
Rather, it is the plunge in celebration of the truth she has once more experienced with her body, her mind looking on to savor, to appreciate, to receive the impression of what has occurred.
And not, as is the usual practice with minds, to attempt to control, or to interpret with a conceit and a pseudo-sophistication and an utter boob-like self delusion which is what all the wise men, all the philosophers so love to do, from the Marquis de Sade, wallowing in the filthy dregs, the nightmare of his own sickness, to Saint Augustine, apologizing for his past misdeeds.
Yes, she has taken the overview of philosophy course in preparation for college.
And that will be, perhaps, her most difficult subject.
Because she will be studying the ravings of maniacs.
She has her way of life, which she refuses to imbue with the false dignity of calling it a philosophy.
It is what it is.
Her life; nothing more, nothing less.
To be lived meaningfully.
Meaning to reach within herself, under proper stimulation, and there to achieve true happiness and ultimate pleasure by methods known very well to her.
And the rest is, well, not bullshit.
This experience has shown her that, she realizes, as she does naked laps in the small pool, steadily, lazily swimming as Samantha lies there in the chaise, still recovering her body temperature and breathing.
Really turned you on, didn't I, big Sam? Cindy thinks.
And she is glad of it.
Because the reverse can also be said.
And whether this was merely a privilege in which Samantha was, is indulging, a prerogative of her lifestyle or whether she too believes in the fundamental necessity of sexual activity, the result was the same for Cindy.
Who has not Samantha's experience, who may not have all of Samantha's tastes, but who nevertheless got off in a big way and helped Cindy to do the same.
Brim understands.
Or says that he does.
And again, the result is the same to Cindy.
What difference does it make, in reality, if she is in fact being manipulated?
Really, there is no sense, no sense at all in erecting defenses against that which she most desires, that which is to herself a vital necessity, merely because it comes to her as part of a plot, a scheme to gain access to her bod.
Better, far better, infinitely better that things should be this way than that she should be forced into the senseless journey she had anticipated with such revulsion.
And in fact, there seems to have been a world of possibilities deliberately created here on the ship.
Because, if what Brim says is true about the sailors he has recruited, then each and every one of them is a walking source of that which she most requires.
And, this being the case, she need lack for none of what she was going to get from her cronies this summer.
And in fact, as Brim says, this could very well prove to be the far better way.
Why not?
Why not take on men instead of boys, not to mention the inimitable-and inimitably horny-Samantha?
Who is all the woman she for one could ever desire.
Who is Brim's very understanding wife, even if that understanding proceeds from self-interest.
And who even now gets up, strutting her voluptuous curves over to the edge of the pool, sticking a toe into it, and recoiling.
"Come on in, Samantha," Cindy invites, hooking her elbows into the gutter of the pool, "the water's fine."
"I am afraid, my dear, that my athletic endeavors are confined to the bed, or equivalent thereof.
"I find that sufficient indulgence in sex keeps me in excellent condition."
And Cindy certainly is not about to dispute that point.
Because she would not mind looking that well in her late thirties or early forties.
Cindy's breasts are very large, firm and well formed.
But she feels that, although she has an hourglass figure, her ass could be bigger, her hips wider, her thighs heavier.
True, most men would prefer her to Samantha, but what do they know?
What do they know of the satisfaction of knowing that one is ample, without being overdone, in one's own flesh.
"Tell you what, my dear," Samantha says, "why don't you come to my room for a decent shower, instead of the salt water?"
"Now that," Cindy says, "that I would really love."
And she hoists herself deftly out of the pool, her bare ass slapping on the lip.
And she stands.
"Better put on your bikini bottoms, dear, just in case we should encounter one of the crew."
"But I thought that they-never mind."
"Been talking to Brim, have we?
"Well, he has his version of how thinks should be run, and Henry-that's the captain-has his.
"Henry claims that it is necessary to discipline that we maintain some minimal semblance of decorum, at least during the day and in fact at all times other than those to which selected members of the crew are specifically invited."
"Then some of them feel-left out?"
Cynthia throws her head back, laughing, as they proceed to the master cabin.
"This time around, they probably do."
"Or will, those who, for one reason or another, usually because of duty rosters, don't get selected."
"At other times, however, I can assure you that they are only too glad to be left out of the action."
"Why is that?"
"You haven't seen some of the people we have as guests, my dear."
"Believe me, were you a member of the crew, you would indeed be hard put to accommodate them."
"They're that ugly, you mean?"
Samantha shrugs.
"That ugly, that perverted, that demanding, that insatiable-take your pick."
"We've even had complaints."
"Brim and I are at pains to sympathize with the offended guest, naturally, but nothing ever happens to the crew member over it, I can assure you."
"Basically, you can't fake a hard-on."
"True, some of the crew know how to force one, but still, there are limits."
"And Brim and I understand that."
They arrive at the master cabin.
Where Brim is seated at his desk, over against the outer bulkhead, still talking on the telephone, his back to them.
"Lon, soyez rassur que je comprends."
"Mais d'abord, faut tudier de longue en large ce monnaie, mon vieux."
"Autrement, notre position vis-vis la situation franc-yen sera compromettre at nous n'oserons pas faire des grands coups sur la bourse, comprenez-vous? ... Bon, Lon. Et, au futur, quand vous vous trouvez avec des brillantes ides, simplement tlphonez-moi en avant, oui? ... Lon, pour vous, je suis toujours prsent, n'importe point quel heure du jour ou nuit, okay, babe? ... Oui, a va ... A bientt, kid, take it easy."
And he hangs up.
"Seems that idiot boy in Paris decided to do something with florins."
"What's a florin?" Samantha asks.
"My position exactly, my dear."
"Until we've had a chance to study it thoroughly, we do nothing with it, no matter how good it looks, even if we miss the boat the first time round."
"Tomorrow is another day."
"Well. So much for business, unless somebody else comes up with something too brilliant for words and too good to pass up and doesn't want to bother me for fear I might be sleeping."
"Did you two-never mind."
"I can tell by looking."
"Yech! Get thee to a shower, the two of you!"
And they comply.
* * *
"Why don't all the rooms have fresh water showers, Samantha?"
"In order to support the swimming pool, the ship is designed to operate on sea water when at sea."
"In port, we hitch up to fresh water lines and you will be able to have a normal shower then, whenever you like."
"Aha!"
"Yes, you have discovered one of the many limitations of our mini-ocean liner, I fear."
"No interior ball room is another."
"Still, all in all, as yachts this size go, it isn't too shabby."
"Certain middle eastern potentates we visit from time to time do much better, of course."
"Still, one shouldn't complain, I suppose."
"Seems perfectly fine to me," Cindy says.
"How very kind of you to say so, my dear."
And Samantha actually sounds serious.
Chapter Five
"Pull!" Brim shouts, loudly.
And a clay pigeon appears suddenly on the horizon.
As Bill, operating the machine on the deck below, out of sight, obeys Brim's signal.
Pow!
And the clay pigeon disintegrates over the water.
"Here," Brim says, loading a shell into the chamber and closing the gun, "you try it, Cindy."
He hands her the gun.
"Remember, the butt firmly against your shoulder but your grip on the trigger light."
"Both eyes open, sighting down the barrel, pointing it as you would a finger, leading the pigeon by about ten yards."
"I'm supposed to remember all that?"
Brim laughs.
"Don't worry, you'll soon get the feel of it."
"That's right, that's the correct stance."
"You ready?"
"Can you do the yelling for me?"
"The what? Oh. Of course."
"Pull!"
Pow!
And the clay pigeon disintegrates, looking like shrapnel in an old war film.
"Bravo!" Brim says.
"Beginner's luck," Cindy replies.
"Right. And from the deck of a ship, too," Brim says. "You've a real talent for this, young lady, and don't put yourself down on that score."
"In fact-"
And he leans over the side. "Rig for doubles, Bill!"
"Aye aye, Mister Steele!"
"I'll show you how this works."
"You ready down there, Bill?"
"Whenever you are, sir!"
And Brim selects a different gun from the mobile gun rack, loading it carefully with two shells.
"Pull!"
Pow! Pow!
And both pigeons explode in the sky.
"This is called an over and under shotgun," Brim explains. "And you don't have to worry which barrel fires first.
"The gun is designed to deliver the load to the same spot at the same distance."
"The trick here is to catch the second bird before it starts dropping, the secret being to fire your second shot as though there had not been a first."
"The sequence to think is fire, ignore, fire."
"This is why I prefer the over and under to the double-barreled model."
"Let the gun worry about which load it's discharging."
"With a double-barreled gun, you have to switch triggers."
"Unless you fire fast enough."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, it wouldn't work at just any angle, I don't think, but the birds here aren't separating that quickly, because Bill has to launch them away from the ship, rather than across our field of vision."
"Load the double-barrel and I'll show you what I mean."
"Okay, but I hope you know what you're doing, Cindy."
He prepares the double barrel for her.
"Here you are, my dear."
Then, "Pull!"
Ka-blam!
And the two pigeons disintegrate as Cindy pulls both triggers at once.
"Brilliantly observed, my girl!" Brim says, applauding.
"Tell that to my shoulder," Cindy replies, handing him the gun and rubbing it where the double force of the recoil has exerted itself, even through the pad on the canvas shooting vest with which Brim provided her.
"Well done anyway," Brim says, chuckling.
And reloads the double-barreled shotgun.
"Pull!"
Ba-boom!
"That certainly works, all right," he concedes, turning his back on the still falling clay shards which pepper the surface of the water to ask, "Shoulder okay?"
"I think so."
"I was just so determined to prove my point that I forgot all about the double recoil."
"Stupid, really."
"Ah, but what a brilliant deductive mind you have, Cindy!"
"And a helluva lot less stupid than Ben Franklin and his kite during the lightning storm."
"I think that's quite enough of this."
"When the pupil starts teaching the master new tricks, it's time for both to move on to new and better things."
He leans over the side.
"That's all for now, Bill. Thanks."
"Oh, and uh, all three of the guns will have to be cleaned before you put them away."
"Yes sir!"
"Well. What say we get ready for supper, Annie Oakley?"
"Fine with me."
And she goes to her cabin.
* * *
Skeet shooting.
Expensive, ridiculous, meaningless.
That is how she would have thought of it before.
But no longer.
Because that too is a part of the ambiance of this world in which she finds herself, this world which, whether by chance or design, has been handed to her for her own use.
And she was good at it.
Meaning that she is able to interface with reality here, with a reality made possible by vast wealth being expended in an ostentatious manner.
Yes, the Steeles have the money and they are proud of it.
Not because it makes them rich, but because it allows them, in fact authorizes them, to live as they do.
The yacht.
It is the symbol of their world within the world.
Or rather, above it.
Yes, they are definitely above it all.
Because they are beyond where most people would like to be.
The practical, the realistic person will set his or her sights on an attainable goal.
And yes, some of her classmates could well end up being millionaires.
Why not?
In her own case, that would not be difficult; she will inherit enough to qualify.
Perhaps even two times over that much.
But.
We are probably talking billions here when we are looking at the Steeles, she reflects.
It is one of those fortunes which increases all by itself.
It is merely necessary to avoid taking unnecessary risks, as this Leon in Paris evidently did.
Other than that, it will take care of itself.
And they can do things like having this fabulous ship.
And on the fabulous ship, they can have their times out, their magic times, their times that don't count.
And Brim was right, is right.
This is the better way.
Because hers, as originally planned, happens only once.
A few short months, and then it's over.
Back to reality.
Back to one of several grindstones.
Not the worst of all possible fates, of course; far from it.
But what is that, compared to all this?
Nothing.
Less than nothing.
Life, not as it is lived, but rather as it is endured.
Before, she could not wait for this journey to end.
Now, she is not so sure but that she wants to end herself when it's over.
Bottom line: Why bother?
Why bother, if her best efforts will not begin to approach this?
Why bother, if the best she will be able to manage, to do for herself and for whoever happens to be her sex partner at the moment is to arrange for a few minutes of escape to her private sexual paradise, only to have to return to face the inevitable?
And her parents are rich and they treat her well and they even spoil her and she will never want for anything and she has never faced a more dismal future.
And the only thing she regrets about this voyage is ever having begun it in the first place.
Yes, she was really better off not knowing.
She knows this now.
Eighteen years old, and her life, other than her sex life, is over.
Still, she supposes, there is a kind of justice in this.
She always believed, indeed still believes that her only happiness lies in having sex.
And, if that were not true before, it is certainly true now.
Except.
Now she sees that there is more to sex than just sex.
Sex has to take place somewhere, with somebody, in some real world context, if it is to be real sex, and not a figment of the imagination, not some hot, floating image to masturbate by.
And here, in the case of the Steeles, that context has been luxuriously, extravagantly established.
Because, far from sex being merely a part of this scene, this whole thing is one big sex scene.
From the selection of the crew to the way the Steeles parade around ninety to one hundred percent naked in the sun whenever the occasion suits or the mood seizes them-that is all part of this sexy, their sexy lifestyle.
This ship has become their world where they reign supreme.
Cindy considers it a floating paradise, a floating sexual paradise, in fact.
While Samantha is genuinely displeased with certain limitations which Cindy would consider so minor as to be scarcely worth mentioning beyond simple explanation, let alone complaining about.
And a shocking possibility strikes Cindy.
What if?
What if Samantha is already exerting pressure on Brim to come up with something bigger, something better, more luxurious?
An Olympic-sized pool on the deck.
Fresh water systems full time, even if the ship must carry sea water conversion technology in order to guarantee an unlimited supply.
Indoor space sufficient for any activity.
And a lump of jealousy and frustration comes into Cindy's throat, as she realizes that Samantha is in fact pushing for bigger and better.
When Cindy can never hope to approach even this level of opulence.
Unless, like Samantha, she marries it.
Even then, what are the guarantees?
Who is to say if, given this stage of wealth, her husband's interests will lead him to see the importance of creating their own private magic kingdom?
No, wealth alone will not bring this to her.
There must be temperament, a predisposition, a sense of values similar to her own.
Because, otherwise, there will be only money.
Sitting around, growing as it feeds on itself, and not doing anybody any good.
Just another piece of the bullshit, it would be, in that case.
Useless, meaningless, as useless, as meaningless as Cindy thought this ship, this voyage, the Steeles were, when she started.
It's a problem, she thinks, to put it quite mildly.
Because now, suddenly, her own lifestyle is unacceptable, may even have become unlivable.
How can I? she asks herself. How can I possibly consider, even for a moment, returning home to face the whole scene of college, a job, the constant struggle?
And struggle for what, for heaven's sake?
For the right to go to bed with some fairly decent hunk every now and again, there to enjoy several hours of happiness out of context?
Marrying well is no guarantee that it-all that she sees here-will happen.
Not marrying well is a guarantee that it will not.
Lovely!
A puzzle for which there are no solutions, only dead ends, compromises, contradictions.
Such is the human condition.
Especially when one wishes to rise above humanity.
And to think, she tells herself, before I started this trip, all I wanted to do was get laid as much, as often as possible.
And now, that seems one step above masturbation.
This, this! is sex, dammit!
Anything less, well, that is only a pale imitation.
Of course, she says that having only recently experienced two completely satisfactory sessions with the Steeles, Mister and Mrs., consecutively.
So that her appetite, while always sharply honed, is picky.
Hunger remains the best sauce.
And her hunger is quiescent now, ever present, of course, but able to contain itself, reassured of an abundant supply, both in quantity and quality.
And something tells her that Brim is not about to let her appetite go unassuaged for very long.
After all, what is the point to all his scheming to get her aboard if he is not going to take full advantage of her?
Yes, Samantha, you're right, she thinks, taking a shower before getting dressed for supper, these salt water showers really suck.
Brim will definitely have to do something about it.
And soon, dammit!
How much longer do you expect us to float around on this fucking garbage scow?
Yes, Cindy chuckles to herself, that's how she can picture Samantha talking to Brim.
As Brim, realizing that she is correct, reaches for one of his ubiquitous telephones and places a call to some naval architect to get the ball rolling.
And suddenly, a wave of depression sweeps over Cindy.
Because, even if such plans are underway, what is that to her?
Unless-no.
That is thinking way, way too far ahead.
Although, certainly, she is not above devising some scheme to manipulate Brim or, for that matter, Samantha.
Still, the best she can probably manage is something for next summer.
And that is a very long time away.
And anything can happen in the interim.
No, best to play this present scene to the hilt, doing and being all that can possibly be expected of her.
And then, well, we'll see.
She cannot expect miracles, after all.
But now, as she puts on white slacks and a skimpy, dark halter and slips into white platform sandals, as she brushes her hair to a luster in the mirror, she thinks, Why not?
Why not expect a miracle, as one of those charlatans on TV is so fond of saying?
Because there is no justice, no discernible pattern of checks and balances, no system of equity or compensation in this world.
So that it is not a question of deserving, of earning, what happens to a person.
It happens because it happens.
The innocent may be punished, the evil, the guilty rewarded.
Thus is it written on the record of history.
Lately, the good guys have not been winning, even on the battlefield.
Not every time, anyway.
We lost Vietnam and barely handled Grenada.
And this with an arsenal that could destroy the world fifty times over.
Go figure.
So then, what's left, if not the individual, left to his or her fate?
So why not?
Why not try to influence it in some fashion favorable, or at least acceptable to herself?
Would it not, in fact, be wrong not to try?
She thinks so.
And, thinking thus, is more determined than ever to do something about cutting herself in on a piece of this action-somehow.
Later for this, she tells herself.
Because right now, it's time for supper with the Steeles, after which Brim or Samantha, or perhaps both, will have something on the program for this evening, no doubt.
* * *
"That was really delicious!" Cindy exclaims, when they have finished eating.
"You sound surprised, my dear," Samantha says.
"Well, it's just that, with the qualifications of the crew being what they are-"
"Ah, but the cook is the cook," Brim says. "I got that idea from the works of the Marquis de Sade, of all people."
And Cindy looks slightly alarmed.
"Oh, you need not worry, Cindy. That's the only idea I got from him."
"A sick, miserable, frustrated individual in real life, you know."
"He never had wealth, never had power, spent much of his life on the run, either in trouble with the authorities or actually in prison."
"Hell, it took the French Revolution to get his ass out of the slammer."
"No, the marquis is hardly an individual worthy of emulation, except in this one regard."
"In the midst of his villains' unspeakable acts, the cook alone remained unmolested, free to do his thing."
"And so it is with ours, a cordon bleu and chapeau noir and one whose only joys, for reasons incomprehensible to me, are culinary."
"Takes all kinds, I suppose."
And he lapses into silence as the three of them go to the rail, looking out at the calm depths, the moon reflecting brightly in the water, the stars twinkling in the infinity of the sky.
And Cindy knows, she just knows, that the view is not the same from, say, the Jersey shore.
The moon is not as bright, the stars not as scintillating, the whole scene not as calm, not as grand as this.
"Well, my dear," Samantha says, "Brim and I were thinking that perhaps you might not wish to spend yet another night alone in your cabin."
"So you're perfectly welcome to spend it with us in ours."
"We can assure you of a most interesting evening."
"I'd be delighted," she replies. "That, I can practically guarantee," Samantha states.
They laugh.
And retire to the Steeles' cabin.
* * *
Cindy lies between them as their hands lightly caress her body, up and down. It's all very casual.
At one point, Samantha, propping herself up on one elbow, runs a lacquered fingernail down the center line of Cindy's body and asks, "How do you feel about ass fucking, my dear?"
"Well," Cindy replies, "I've done it before, of course."
"But uh, with something that size-" referring to Brim's massive monster of a prong, "I'm not at all sure that I could handle it."
"All in the preparation, I assure you, Cindy," Samantha says. "Unless and until you're ready, Brim will do nothing.
"The farthest thing from our minds is to cause you even the slightest discomfort, let alone pain."
"Then in that case," Cindy replies, "I'm all yours."
And she promptly turns over, going at once to knees and elbows, ass thrust as high and as far back as it will go.
And it is Samantha rather than Brim who crouches behind her, spreading the cheeks of her ass still wider.
And wallowing in the crack of her ass, mouth opened.
And now, sucking her big, round bung into her mouth.
And chewing it gently between her teeth.
And continues sucking on it.
As her tongue goes round and round over the segments.
And now, Samantha pauses.
And, hands grasping the belled flare of Cindy's hips to hold her steady, stiffens her tongue.
And forces it in, in, into the center of Cindy's nether star.
So that Cindy can feel the live, wet, insistently probing appendage invading the heat of her rectum.
And touching the rectal walls which yield before it.
Even as the ring of muscle relaxes, welcoming it.
So that Samantha is able to go still deeper.
And she does.
And wiggles her powerful tongue back and forth, widening the entrance, stretching it still further than its natural, relaxed state.
And now, Brim takes over from her, his even larger, more powerful tongue rimming and stretching her, going still deeper into the moist, yielding heat of her interior.
And he lingers there, making a meal of her ass.
And now, he sticks two fingers into her ass hole.
And rotates them round and round, stretching her still more, making absolutely sure she will be big enough back there to accommodate him.
"You see, my dear, if one has patience, if one takes his time, there's no problem," Samantha explains, face to face with Cindy, watching her facial expression as she gets her finger wave.
Cindy says nothing, content to close her eyes, smiling faintly.
And now, satisfied, Brim pulls back from her, sitting on his heels as he rests on his knees, polishing his knob with a bit of saliva.
And now, he stands on his knees.
And, thumb and fingers of one hand encircling her ass hole, thus spreading the cheeks of her ass wider than ever, isolating her slackened, saliva-lubricated ass hole, turning it into a target, with his other hand, he guides his monster of an erection closer and closer-
And buttons his knob inside her ass hole, pausing there to allow her body to welcome its turgid visitor.
And it does, as Cindy feels the alien presence, stretching and filling the vestibule of her nether entrance.
And now, Brim places a hand on each of her hips, grasping them gently but firmly.
As he rotates his hips slowly, pushing forward a little at a time, drilling in, in, into the depths of her rectum, the battering ram of his cock head parting the channel before it, going deeper and deeper, the long, thick, hot hard, vibrant shaft behind it keeping Cindy stretched and filled.
As Samantha continues to watch her face closely, observing as it turns red with the heat of her mounting passion.
And now, Brim is fully seated within her.
And again, he pauses.
As Cindy, her ass stretched and filled completely, feels the tingling sexual excitement permeating the entire length of her rectum.
Chapter Six
And now, Brim begins fucking her in the ass.
Slowly at first, the movement within her the faintest rhythmic stirrings of the huge monster, she feels those initial tinglings of arousal, every nerve ending in her rectum stimulated by the slight motion, so stretched, so filled is she.
And now, as Brim begins to lengthen his stroke, just so do the feelings within her intensify.
And here is a completeness and a lascivious intimacy she had not thought possible in this situation.
Not at all the sheer physical feat, the minor accomplishment of a bedroom athlete, this.
Like her previous experience in this particular sexual activity.
Rather, it seems to her natural and without strain.
As though her ass hole is truly an alternative sexual organ.
As though it is of equal rank and importance to her sex life as her cunt.
So that here then is yet another aspect of that truth which her body is so expert at seeking out and reconfirming.
Of course, the boys with whom she did it did not have all that much experience.
But Brim obviously does.
As he continues to lengthen his stroke.
Until soon, very soon, he is ass fucking her full bore.
And Cindy is loving every minute of it.
She is riding high, Brim's anal onslaught propelling her onward and upward.
And now, Samantha gets on her back and deftly insinuates herself between Brim's legs, from behind.
So that now she is looking up at Cindy's cunt, the joy buzzer pushed forward by the pressure of Brim's mighty thruster from within.
And Samantha's tongue reaches up, out of her mouth, the tip of it making contact with the protruding clit, already being stimulated from within by Brim's action.
So that now, they are all three involved in the scene.
As Cindy continues to receive her double stimulation.
As Brim gets his balls licked, Samantha alternating between them and Cindy's clit.
And now, Brim's piston action redoubles.
He is going all out, slamming into her ass again and again, only his hands on her hips preventing her going off balance and collapsing forward.
Yes, yes, yes! Cindy is shouting within herself.
This is it!
This is as good as it gets, no question!
And yet, even as she thinks this, it gets better and better.
As sensation builds upon sensation under the double stimulation of the Steeles.
As she rises through level after level of lascivious, thorough arousal.
Because the emotion is not tenuous, is not intermittent or forced.
Rather, it is there within her, there to excess, and growing by the moment.
So that she is getting hotter and hotter.
So that she is continuing to rise toward her peak, faster and faster.
As Samantha continues to service her from below, now twiddling her joy buzzer with the tip of her tongue, now tongue fucking her.
So that Cindy has never been so well, so thoroughly attended.
This is her first experience of two on one and a delightful one indeed she finds it.
And where else, when else would such a combination as this be possible?
So that Brim has not lied to her, has not oversold what he has to offer her.
This is indeed better than things could possibly have been for her back home.
And her parents were right and she was wrong, although in a way they would never have understood.
And concerning which she has no intention of enlightening them.
None whatsoever.
For one thing, that would be literally impossible.
Because you sort of have to be here.
Only the Steeles can be said to understand.
And even then, their understanding is done, naturally enough, in their terms rather than hers.
Because, to them, this may very well be optional.
Sure, Brim has talked about his hunger being similar to hers.
But she doubts that this is the case.
Because, if it were, then he would have many more sex partners available to him than is presently the case.
She would if she were in his shoes, she knows. Unless.
Unless Brim is in fact feeling the effects of his age.
So that he is forced to substitute a bit of quality for the quantity which, in his youth, he was no doubt accustomed to having available.
And to servicing as ably as even now he is servicing Samantha and herself.
She would like to believe that Brim understands and somehow respects her sex drive.
She would like to believe that Samantha is similarly driven as well.
So that there should be this bond between them, they being kindred spirits and all.
And perhaps they really are.
At least, at the moment this is certainly true.
Although it could be that this whole thing is merely an elaborate diversion for them, a time apart, and not the centerpiece of their lifestyle, as they would have her believe.
So that she will not feel like a tag-along.
Taking care of the neighbor's kid, that sort of thing.
But she detects no condescension here, no mere tolerance.
Rather, there is an obvious, one might say a blatant desire, an eagerness to serve her in this most important of ways.
And she believes that it is sincere.
But is it, despite Samantha's earlier indications, merely a matter of playing hard in order that they, or at least Brim, can work all the harder, his mind clear, his body satisfied?
But then, there was that call from Paris.
And Brim certainly did not treat it lightly or hastily, did not see fit to brush it off, cutting to the chase, straightening Leon's ass out and slamming the phone down.
Rather, he seemed to give it the same deep-seated attention, the same intensity and care he is even now giving Cindy.
In and out, in and out he shafts, looking down as he leans back.
So that he can see the action of his cock, as the long, thick meat piston shafts steadily in and out of Cindy's ass hole, now become a smooth, perfectly rounded mouth which sucks his cock as he withdraws, which devours it as he lunges forward.
As Samantha continues her attentions down below.
So that Cindy is being doubly serviced, doubly stimulated, all the way.
All the way, she realizes, is where they are headed.
Because there will be no sudden let-up, no shifting of positions to break up the action, to prolong it, to interrupt her steady rise up the rainbow of her arousal.
No, just as they are, so shall they be, all the way home.
And this realization causes Cindy to relax her mind completely.
So that she deliberately allows herself to become dizzy, disoriented.
Because Brim will support her, will not let her fall.
And Samantha beneath them will keep her at just the right level, her hands on Cindy's thighs, as she eats her cunt.
As Brim redoubles his efforts, going faster and faster.
And she can feel his heat, the intensity of it, the dampness of it over her, behind her, as he breaks his sex sweat.
And still he plows on and on, a man driven, a man exquisitely, irresistibly compelled to fuck on and on, his movements effortless, even though he pants with his unheeded exertion.
Yes, there is nothing he cannot do with her.
He could go on and on like this forever, he tells himself.
He could give her some kind of record ride, in both quality and duration.
The quality is assured by his superb equipment.
And, as to the duration, well, since he is expending no energy, why not?
Except that he is.
Except that it is his lust which shields him from the realization that his body is actually working quite hard.
But the body knows.
It knows how to convince the brain that it is time to leave go, to allow the body to complete its natural function.
It knows how-and when.
Because, at a certain point in his arousal, the body forces the brain's surrender, forces it with just that extra increment of lascivious sensation to give way.
And to sit back, relax, and enjoy the remainder of the ride.
As the body seeks its own level of activity, in response to the flood of sexual feelings which have inundated it, permeated it, swept it away on the crest of the tidal wave of pleasure.
So that now, Brim is suddenly coming, before even he himself is aware of it.
As that next wave of pleasure reveals itself for what it really is.
The pleasure beyond pleasure.
The ultimate pleasure the best feeling the body is capable of experiencing, that pleasure which overwhelms the senses and transports the body.
And Cindy too feels the same complex of sensations.
Because the injection of his thick, hot jism into her bowels has combined with Samantha's relentless attentions to create that slight increment of pleasure which is sufficient to push her off from the summit of her capacity for pleasure.
So that here, now, with Brim's cock, with Samantha's tongue, she is being transported once more to the realm of her private sexual paradise.
As the intimate communication between cock and cunt and tongue reaches new heights of mutual, if strictly physical understanding.
As Cindy and Brim come and come, her multiple orgasms seeming to have taken on a new dimension.
As her rectum joins her vagina in the spasms of her climaxes, one after another, in counterpoint to Brim's injections.
So that her ass is milking Brim's cock of all the pleasure it holds for her, even as her cunt clings to and squeezes Samantha's tongue.
Until, at last, her orgasms quiet down in intensity, then subside.
And she floats slowly back down to earth.
As Samantha slides out from under them.
So that Cindy is free to go flat.
And Brim is free to ride her, all the way down, cock fully inserted, still fully charged with the blood of his passion, not yet begun to revert whence it came in response to that call which must be answered.
So that now, Brim is atop her, is up her ass, is sweating on her as, suddenly drained, his body resists all desire for further movement.
So that he lies there, panting and sweating, recovering breath and temperature, as his cock slowly detumesces in her rectum.
Until the peristaltic action of her bowels expels him.
And now, he gets up off of her.
And says, "You ladies may have the shower first."
They accept.
"Well, tell me the truth, Cindy," Samantha says, "how was he?"
"Fabulous."
"But then, you both were-are."
"How very kind of you."
"So tell me: Ever done it with more than one person at the same time before?"
"Never."
"Think it's something that you could go for in a big way?"
"Definitely!"
"Then in that case, I can promise you a most interesting day tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it, Samantha."
"You'll not be disappointed."
And they complete their showers, emerging to find Brim fast asleep in the middle of the bed.
"You seem to have done a great job relaxing him," Samantha comments.
"Too great, apparently," Cindy qualifies.
"Oh, no. He's been like that more and more lately. Superman before and afterward limp as a wet rag."
"And not with just you and I, with-everybody."
"Everybody?"
"Other voyages, other cities, other times and places, other people, my dear."
"Oh."
But, inwardly, Cindy is disturbed.
And she wonders if her trip with them is not, after all, a mere interlude, a sideshow, and one which they will scarcely remember, once it's over.
That is certainly not what she wants, but what can she do about it, if that is the case?
She doesn't know at the moment, but she feels compelled to work on it.
For now-
"Let's not disturb him, dear," Samantha continues. "We can sleep together in your cabin."
"Fine with me."
And Samantha puts on a bathrobe, while Cindy puts on her slacks, carrying the rest of her ensemble du soir with her, boobs exposed, as she and Samantha go to her room, where they promptly strip and get into bed.
And fall asleep in each others' arms, their big jugs intertwined, pressing voluptuously against one another.
* * *
They wake up in the same position.
"Well," Samantha says, "I had best be getting back to my own cabin and see how Brim is doing."
"I shall have to chide him for pooping out on us, too."
"Oh, I don't think you have to do that, Samantha."
"After all, his performance was greater than most of the others I've been with, and his equipment definitely outclasses theirs."
"Yes, well, nevertheless, I feel that he should have stayed awake at least long enough to clean himself up so that the three of us could have slept together."
Cindy shrugs.
"There'll be other nights, Samantha."
"Ah yes. But that one is gone forever."
Cindy can't fight logic like that.
"You see, my dear, we live moment by moment."
"And a moment once past can never be recalled."
"And Brim blew a whole night, did he not?"
"Well, most of it, I suppose."
"Exactly. Unforgivable, really."
"Well. Must dash. See you for breakfast up on deck."
And, whirling her bathrobe around as she dons it over her voluptuous curves, Samantha leaves the cabin.
And Cindy wonders if Samantha is as critical of Brim to his face as she is behind his back.
And if such criticism is sincere, genuine, or merely for effect, done in order to see if Cindy will say anything or what her reaction will be.
Or both.
Because, surely, on some level of awareness and sensitivity, there is a point at which she must view Cindy as a kind of rival.
The fact that Brim sees fit to look elsewhere, other than to Samantha exclusively for the satisfaction, the fulfillment of his sexual needs must bring with it a sense of incompleteness or inadequacy on the part of Samantha.
Or must it?
Is there marriage as genuinely open as it seems, or not?
Perhaps it really is.
Not for himself has Brim engaged all these hunks for crew.
And certainly, based on last night, Samantha is, by any standard, more woman than he requires, all by herself.
Brim is many things, but in his prime is not one of them.
So that there is the question of Samantha's satisfaction as well as Brim's.
What if?
What if Samantha's appetite requires the constant attentions of more than one man?
Perhaps that is why she was so diligent in sounding out Cindy on how she feels about sex with more than one person at a time.
That could very well be standard fare for Samantha.
So that she is in search of a kindred spirit on that specific score.
And if so, Cindy tells herself, she need look no further.
Because Cindy is up for it.
At least, she thinks she is.
And, if she enjoys cock up her ass and down her throat as well as in her pussy, which is clearly the case with her, then it follows that she should enjoy having it all three ways at once, if that is what Samantha has in mind.
And taking a salami the size of Brim's up the ass has given her heightened sexual confidence in herself.
So that she feels as though she is ready for anything.
Especially while she is a part of this world within and above the rest of the world.
Because it's magic time, the time between, the time that doesn't count.
Except that, right now, it counts very much to Cindy.
And the loss of it would be, frankly, devastating.
Because how much is a person supposed to be able to be at risk to lose before she says, "Enough! I can't, I won't let this happen!"
No, this is definitely the life for her.
Not to flaunt in front of others, at least not the sexual aspect of it, but to have, to live.
Because any other pales by comparison with it.
This is the better way, the better life, the only life for herself, if she has anything to say about it.
Mom, Dad, she thinks, this is all your fault!
They should never, never! have let her get this much of a taste of the Steeles and their lifestyle.
Still, how could they know?
Stupid, really, of them to have accepted the Steeles' invitation on her behalf without knowing more about them.
But here again, what's there to know?
That they are fabulously wealthy, that they have this fantastic vessel, and that they have plenty of room to accommodate a guest.
What parent wouldn't jump at the chance to have their only child receive that which they are unable to give her themselves?
So that, in a way, they were asserting their adequacy by practically forcing her to make this trip.
Because this is their way of telling her that, okay, so they did not reach the top rung of the socio-economic ladder. So what?
They at least managed to come close enough to those who are to arranges something like this.
Which means that, with only a slight broadening of the category, upper crust, a teensy weensy lowering of the standards for qualifying, they actually have arrived.
Because, surely, using Cindy as a link, this will bring them closer to the Steeles.
And face it, Cindy tells herself, the old homestead is certainly enough of a mansion that they don't have to be ashamed to have the Steeles over for the old thank you cocktails and dinner.
Cook may not be a cordon bleu, but she does have some inimitable specialties, designed to impress the most discerning palates.
And now, joining them for breakfast, she greets them, telling Brim, "I trust you slept well."
"Oh please," he says, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin, "not you too!"
"Really, I must apologize."
"Believe me, it wasn't the company."
"Well, in a way it was, I suppose, but strictly in a complimentary mode."
"A lesser person would have been less satisfying, right?"
"Very well put, Brim dearest," Samantha says.
"Thank you, my dear, I thought so myself, with all due modesty."
"Modesty has never been one of your faults, dear," Samantha says. "But then, who can blame you?
"After all, we have so little to be modest about."
And the three of them chuckle.
And Cindy thinks, a few days ago, she would have sneered inwardly at such complacency.
And now, she sees how wrong she would have been to have done so.
Because this is the ultimate degree of achievement.
The Steeles have arrived where the overwhelming bulk of humanity can never hope to go, to be.
And they have every right to feel and think as they do, and to be as they are.
And Cindy only wishes she were qualified to be just like them.
The Steeles have just gained a fan club of one, so far as Cindy is concerned.
And she sees how immature, how overly simplified were her former views of her own needs.
To get laid, and thereby satisfy that obsessive inner hunger.
But she sees very clearly now that she has mistaken a part for the whole.
And it is, admittedly, a very essential part.
But a part nonetheless.
She cannot believe the flea-bag motels she has been in.
This vessel doesn't belong on the same planet with them.
And yet, back then, she thought she was having the greatest good time ever.
That's right, she tells herself, and just think how much simpler life would be if you still felt that way.
But she doesn't.
And probably can't, not ever again.
Because it is one thing to realize in the abstract that there is an elite, a select happy few who lead a paradisiacal life here on earth.
But it is quite another to see it work in the real world, with the real world, and above the real world, all at one and the same time.
Because, face it, she tells herself, you are no longer able to dismiss the Steeles as effete snobs.
For one thing, they have gone beyond even snobbery.
To the point that they are not only free to look down on the rest of the world, they are free to ignore it completely, if they so desire.
And there are very few indeed who have such an option available to themselves.
So that Cindy, seeing wealth and status in action, experiences a lump of longing in her throat at the sight.
Because she knows that, as of right now, she is not, never can or will be a part of all this, except here and now, her presence the result, not of any designs on her part, but rather that of Brim's consummate lechery.
Chapter Seven
"I promised Cindy a special treat today," Samantha informs Brim. "I rather thought the two of us could sit back and relax while the child disports herself in a manner most suited to her nature."
"Give you a chance to recover still further, at the same time."
"Ah, but what if I should find myself becoming inspired at the goings on, m'dear?" Brim asks, raising and lowering his eyebrows lecherously.
"Then, my dear, I would suggest that you put a sock in it or tie a knot in it, depending on which orifice or organ you are drooling from at the moment," Samantha replies drily.
And Cindy thinks, she has gone too far this time.
But Brim finds this casually amusing, laughing lightly at her remark.
"I leave it to you, my dear," Brim says, turning to Cindy, placing a hand on her wrist, "if I should find myself suddenly inspired at the sight of your activities, should I not be free to break in and snatch you away to my bed, there to have my way with you?"
"Uf!" Samantha says, waving a deprecating hand at Brim, as though finding the suggestion utterly disgusting.
"You could do that," Cindy says, "but the very fact that you would be inspired implies that whatever is going on is well worth seeing."
"If and when you interrupt, you could very well be cheating yourself out of something you wouldn't really want to miss."
"And, while it's true that I'm available to you at any time, for that very reason, it seems to me, you wouldn't want to interfere, if what's happening is truly ... inspiring."
Brim looks from one to the other.
And bursts out laughing.
"This is amazing, you know?" he says. "With, with, well never mind with what I have at my disposal, but with all that I have available to me, my absolute freedom of action unconditionally guaranteed, I still can be manipulated by the likes of you two."
"Well, it does seem to make perfect sense to me, dear," Samantha says.
"Of course it does!" Brim responds. "That's just the problem, don't cha see?
"If the logic were flawed, I'd see right through it.
"No question.
"But it obviously is not flawed, is, au contraire, air tight, as they say."
"And therefore, what's a guy supposed to do, except go along and watch, even if it drives him crazy, just watching?"
"Alas, poor Brim," Samantha says, mocking. "The lecher's lament.
"Can't watch and do at the same time."
"Poor baby."
"Ah well," Brim sighs, resignedly, "you accept these things and you live with them."
They laugh.
But inwardly, Cindy is not laughing.
Because Brim is obviously just kidding.
The Steeles are the last who have to live with, have to accept anything not to their liking.
Ridiculous, it would be, in their position, to tolerate for one second even that which they find merely annoying.
"Well," Samantha says, "shall we get ready for pool side?"
And they go to their cabin, Cindy to hers.
Where she changes into her string bikini.
Not, she tells herself, not that she will end up wearing even that, if what she thinks is about to happen does in fact ensue.
And now, wearing only the bikini, platform sandals and sunglasses, towel in hand, she heads for the pool deck.
Where the Steeles are already waiting, reclining in their deck chairs, Samantha topless, both their bronzed bodies gleaming with sunscreen, smiling balefully at her, their appearance somehow sinister, behind their dark glasses.
And they lean back in their chairs, obviously waiting for something.
And Cindy notices a mat spread on the deck, thickly quilted beneath its waterproof fabric covering.
The water in the pool looks most inviting.
So Cindy takes advantage of it, depositing her towel on the chair beside Samantha's, along with her sunglasses, kicking out of her sandals and diving in at once.
And now she does laps, her stroke smooth and even, cleaving the water evenly up the middle, in solitary splendor.
Which does not last long.
Because three burly crew members suddenly appear on deck, naked, their big cocks flopping heavily as they walk.
And Cindy, seeing them, is glad that Bill is among them.
As, one after the other, they join her in the pool.
And Bill is the first to touch her, coming up behind her, cupping her ample breasts in both hands, kneading and fondling them as he whispers in her ear, "Glad we could get together again so soon."
"Me too," she replies.
And Bill removes her skimpy halter and throws it onto the edge of the pool.
And now, a second sailor swims up behind them, submerging, removing her bikini bottoms and tossing them onto the deck as he comes up for air.
Only to go under again.
So that he can swim behind her, spread the cheeks of her ass and quickly rim her ass hole under the water, the tip of his tongue probing briefly inside her.
And now, the third man also plunges beneath the surface, focusing his oral attentions on her pussy, which he probes deeply with his thrusting tongue.
So that Cindy finds herself being aroused three ways, right there in the pool.
And Bill continues to knead her breasts, thumbing the nipples to full, rubbery erection, as the other two circle them like sharks, submerging again and again in order to service her briefly with their tongues, fore and aft.
As the Steeles watch through opaque lenses, smiling faintly.
As Cindy's face and breasts begin to flush with the engorgement of incipient arousal.
The three sailors seem quite good at this.
As Bill's attentions become more and more intimate, so that now he too circles around in order to suck on the doorbells of her nipples as well as continue to manipulate her big boobs, wet and slippery now, but all the more thrilling to handle for that very reason.
So that now, he too is becoming aroused, along with the other two, his big hard-on fucking the water as he moves.
As are the other two, their shark-like circumnavigations becoming faster and faster, their pauses to "feed" longer, more intense.
And now, they lead her slowly to the shallow end of the pool.
And Bill, standing sideways on the steps, offers her a hand out of the water.
But she reaches down and uses his erection as a handle.
They all laugh.
And Cindy and the three studs, huge ramrods hobbling stiffly before them, advance to the large pad which is so conveniently spread before the Steeles.
And Cindy, not bothering to dry herself, lies down on her back.
At once, Bill is straddling her body, his prick in her face, as one of the other studs dives onto her muff, there to continue the work so ardently begun in the water.
Except that now he need not come up for air.
As he twiddles her joy buzzer with his flickering tongue.
As he shafts his tongue in and out of her hot, drooling cunt.
As he fucks her with his tongue now, repeatedly thrusting and retracting the talented, muscular appendage.
So that now, her clit is being stimulated both ways, even as she sucks Bill's cock.
And suck it she is.
Except that she need not do very much of the work.
Because Bill is literally fucking her in the face now.
As his hips pump steadily, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of her mouth.
So that she need only vacuum her cheeks as he pulls back and receive him as he thrusts forward, in regular sequence.
But this does not continue for very long.
Because suddenly, Bill dismounts.
And lies beside her on the mat.
And she, understanding at once what is expected, gently shoves her cunt lapper's face away from her twat.
And straddles Bill's waiting body, he holding his prick erect, thus confirming the correctness of her action.
And now, she squats above his rampant pole, taking it away from him with one hand, feeding it into herself, up, up, up into her eager pussy.
As she settles down on him, knees resting on the thick pad on either side of him.
And the one who, moments before, had been eating her pussy now switches his attentions to her ass hole as he crouches behind her, between Bill's flatly spread legs.
And begins rimming her at once, her big ass hole protruding farther than ever, thanks to the pressure of Bill's big boinker inside her vagina.
So that he has an excellent target to suck and chew.
And he takes full advantage of this as Cindy leans foreward over Bill, breasts hanging, huge and pendulous in his face.
So that Bill can easily reach up with both hands and feed himself the big glands, one at a time, while continuing to knead both of them.
Yes! Cindy cries out to herself, in her exhilaration. Yes, yes, yes!
This is the thrill, the feeling she needs, the one she constantly craves!
And it is more than Bill's fucking and the other guy rimming her.
They are at the heart of it, of course, but there is more, much more.
Above and beyond this action and the stimulation it is generating, there is the ship and the sunny sky above and the blue sea all around them.
It is all, all! a part of it.
It is all what she was looking for, what she has been hungering for, without even realizing it until now.
She thought she was complete before.
She thought that all she had to do was fuck and the rest would come to her all by itself-the contentment, the relief, the inner peace.
This is what she thought.
She was wrong.
Because now she knows that there was so much missing, so much that she was missing.
And yes, it did bother her, without her understanding what it was, this uneasiness that lurked constantly in the background, that abated only during actual climax, only to return at once with the return of the mind's control, surrendered back from the body, once she was finished.
So that, in the midst of the deepest contentment, it was there, the vague, nameless dissatisfaction, that faint comer of the itch that did not get scratched.
And now, the sailor behind her is inserting a saliva-lubed finger up her ass.
And it goes ever so much easier if she ceases the rotating motion of her hips and raises them slightly, using knees and hands for leverage.
And letting him delve in, in, into her, all the way to the last knuckle, before she settles back down on Bill, all the way.
And resumes this rotary motion.
Which reams her pussy with his rigid ramrod again and again, each rotation a fresh thrill of sexual electricity, sweeping over her, surging through her, adding to the thrill, the excitement of the previous rotation.
So that now, her arousal is building and building within her, ever novel, ever familiar.
But this new context, this having a whole glorious, sunshine-filled world, the open, bracing sea air, the ocean itself with her, a part of it all, seems to add a tingle within the tingle, a thrill on top of the thrill.
How beautiful, how complete it all is! Cindy thinks.
Because a whole world has been turned into a sexual playground for her.
And now, the sailor behind her pulls his finger out, wetting his knob with saliva as he rests his buttocks on his heels, his cock springing, huge and hard, from his lap.
And he leans forward, guiding his knob toward its target, his dry hand encircling Cindy's ass hole, thus clearly announcing his intentions.
And Cindy, just as she did before to accommodate the finger, raises her hips.
And Bill can feel the bottom of his buddy's erection, inch for inch, as it enters her, on the bottom of his underside of his own cock, through the narrow membrane of body tissues which separate the two rampant invaders.
So that now, as she settles back down on Bill's shaft, Cindy has never felt so completely filled in her whole life.
And now, she tries a few tentative rotations.
It works!
Fully filled she is, fore and aft, with vibrant cock.
So that the voice which cries out its need within her is answered for the first time with a chorus.
Or at least a duet.
And only one thing is needed to make it a trio.
And-there it is!
As the third sailor is on his knees in front of her, above Bill's head.
And she takes the head of his magnificent monster into her mouth at once.
And yes and yes and yes to cock and cock and cock! she thinks.
In her cunt, in her ass, in her mouth, it fills her, long and thick and vibrant.
She can feel it, she can taste and see it, she can suck it with every orifice of her body.
Because it's here, it's there, it's everywhere now, for her.
In this most perfect of worlds, she knows at last what it is to get a perfect fuck.
And she sees that she was wrong to limit herself in her thinking to a single cock at a time.
It will do well enough, she supposes, especially if it is big like Brim's, but why should she be so restricted, except out of practical necessity?
And to think, she didn't want to go on this cruise!
Really, she should start listening to her parents more often.
Yeah, right.
Like they know what's going on.
Her parents know nothing, not even what they think they do.
About anything, she adds.
Because this is not their world.
This is not any world they could even imagine.
Rather, this is the world as it should be, at least for Cindy.
Anything less is, well-less.
And now, she deliberately makes herself dizzy and disoriented, taking herself out of focus.
So that there is only here and now.
And it will last forever and ever, world without end, amen.
Because there is nothing, nothing, nothing she lacks, at the moment.
All is complete, all is fulfilled for her and with her and in her.
She reigns supreme here, and of her kingdom she wants no end.
So that she could be free to go on and on, just like this.
As the man behind her begins to hump, even as she continues to rotate.
So that she slows down her circulating hips.
So that she can feel the fucking motion up her ass growing stronger and stronger.
As the man servicing her ass picks up speed.
Which makes her hotter and hotter.
So that now she sucks the cock in her mouth more and more ardently.
And now, she picks up her speed of rotation again.
So that all four of them are becoming more and more aroused, building toward climax.
And now, like skyrockets within her, the men begin to come.
And the man in her ass starts it.
Which is exactly the additional stimulation that Bill needs to go over the top himself.
Which in turn generates still more pleasure within Cindy, the spurts of Bill's discharge alternating with that of the man behind her.
Which inspires her to redouble her cocksucking of the man before her.
Which in turn sets him off.
And the three-way sperm injection is just what Cindy needed.
As her series of multiple orgasms comes over her full force.
As she comes and comes, seeming to match all three cocks, spurt for spurt.
So that all four of them share the same sexual paradise.
So that they zoom and soar together through a rosy empyrean of absolute pleasure, of pleasure beyond pleasure, of the ultimate pleasure.
Here, beneath the azure dome of the real sky of the real world, itself put to an unreal use by Cindy's need.
And yes, it is her need which has created this situation, that and that alone.
She has requisitioned, has commandeered from the world that which she needed.
The Steeles?
This ship?
These sailors?
And the sky and the sea and the sun?
All, all! are here for her use.
And beside her, outside her, without her, they have no function!
They become pieces of an absurdity, useless, meaningless.
They become part of the bullshit world, of the excess of that which is and has no reason for being, no function in reality beyond that of its own perpetuation.
Because, Cindy tells herself, she, she! is the center of this universe, its driving force.
She is that which sustains it.
And without her, whatever else they may think they are, other than a part of this world, her world, they are nothing, nothing, nothing.
But these thoughts are all a part of the dizzy whirl of a mind disconnected from its body, able only to realize the experiences, the sensations which the body is undergoing.
As twinge after twinge of sexual transport wipes out even these megalomaniacal, ejaculatory assertions.
As her need is fulfilled, her craving satisfied, and this in depth.
Because now, as she floats back down to earth, surrounded by prime but flagging male beef, their sexual sweat intermingling, Cindy does not know that dull throbbing of dissatisfaction, of incompleteness, of vague depression which customarily accompanies her aftermaths.
No, there is only that sense of accomplishment she usually has, but unadulterated, having no shadows clouding the sunshine of her contentment.
She has done it in stereo and three dimensions, as they say at the movies.
And she sees the Steeles' sunglassed visages, grinning in the background, reminding her of nothing so much as the audience at a 3D movie which has only just ended.
So that they still have their special glasses on.
And she would not be surprised to see them applaud.
And yet, even in the midst of all three men, Bill and her ass fucker still connected, only the one she was sucking having fallen to one side, she sees the cod-piece of Brim's string bikini tenting massively, tufts of pubic hair showing in the gaps at the sides now.
And she comes to a decision.
Which is also part of the solution to the problem of keeping her hooks in this situation when the cruise has ended.
She will simply make herself indispensable to Brim.
She will see to it that she is just too good for him to live without, on a permanent basis.
And she doubts that Samantha will cause any difficulty for her in this regard.
Because Samantha has certainly shown herself to be a far from disinterested party when it comes to Cindy's sexual favors.
And an absent Cindy is unavailable to her, whereas one who is present will obviously be amenable to whatever Samantha desires.
Why not?
Perhaps Samantha isn't the exact same model of hot number as Cindy, but nevertheless, she is still hot, hot, hot.
And hot needs hot.
Otherwise, all that heat has no place to go.
And Cindy certainly knows the feeling.
And now, Cindy lies collapsed, in a heap, Bill on the bottom, the other man, the one in her ass, on top.
Both of them are fully inserted still, but now, as Bill detumesces, his cock oozes easily out of Cindy's cunt.
And the release of this internal pressure seems to soften the other man's prick rapidly, so that Cindy shits him out very quickly.
And rolls off of Bill.
Bill and the other two stand up, sweating and panting, their muscular bodies glistening in the sun, their cocks long, flaccid, wet.
"Well done, gentlemen," Brim tells them.
And they leave, disappearing one at a time down the ladder that leads to the crew's quarters.
And Brim suddenly gets out of his chair and plunges into the pool, obviously in order to cool his aroused passion.
Surprised, Cindy looks over her shoulder as he surfaces, sweeping his iron-grey hair back with a single stroke of both hands.
"Less painful than tying a knot in it," he explains.
And the women laugh.
As Cindy realizes that, for all Brim's ardor, the practical side of him has decided against approaching her triple-fucked, sweaty, messy body at this particular moment, regardless of the fact that he has been, as he put it, inspired.
So that the veneer of civilization has tempered even his sexual desire.
And that is all to the good, Cindy reflects.
Because she does not care to think of herself as a mere animal, despite her desire to give free rein to what are often referred to as animal passions.
And Brim may be many things, but an animal is clearly not one of them.
But now, she is only too aware of what a mess she is.
And this can hardly be doing her image any good.
Quickly, she finds the pieces to her bikini and puts them on, not without some difficulty, over her sweaty body.
And, a towel around her as she dons sunglasses and sandals, she excuses herself.
Chapter Eight
"Well, my dear," Samantha says, "what can I say except-bravo!"
And Samantha applauds, the sound of a single pair of hands clapping slowly resembling rifle shots, beneath the awning under which Cindy has joined them for lunch.
As Brim looks at Samantha disapprovingly.
Such sarcasm and condescension ill become her, he thinks.
And surely it will not be lost on so intelligent a person as Cindy.
Who very obviously was not doing what she did as a performance, as one eager to please, for mere approval of her hosts.
And yet, Cindy sees very well the purpose behind Samantha's comment and actions.
They are a message.
Do not, for whatever reason, no matter how tempted you may be, try to ingratiate yourself with us by putting on a show.
A word to the wise.
Message received and understood.
Performances will be perceived as shows, even when not intended as such.
And Samantha certainly knows that Cindy wasn't playing at cute tricks this morning.
For one thing, she had asked her the previous day how she felt about sex with more than one person and so knows Cindy's true feelings concerning that.
For another, this was not something that Cindy planned, but rather an activity planned by Brim and Samantha for her, her-what?
Her delight and satisfaction, or theirs?
Because, face it, Cindy tells herself, the whole time, they were watching and you knew that they were, so what was it, if not a performance, at least in that sense?
And in retrospect, it is obvious to Cindy that she did not rule that world, not even when she was climaxing.
Rather, she was in roughly the same status as her three sailor studs.
The Steeles used her to amuse, to entertain themselves.
Her and the three sailors.
But they, at least, were, are on the payroll.
Whereas she is merely a guest.
And suddenly, the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for her.
And now, she knows exactly what she must do in order to assure herself a berth on this vessel next year, come hell or high water.
But first things first.
So-
"I take it, Samantha, that you have not yet availed yourself of the same, ah, shall we say ... facilities?" Cindy asks.
"Not uh, not to that extent, no, my dear."
"Why do you ask?"
"Because, if you haven't, I really would recommend it highly."
"I shall take it under advisement," Samantha replies, "and thank you for your interest and concern."
"Oh, not at all."
"It's merely that, as a spectator sport, it leaves much to be desired."
"A ... sport? Funny, I have never thought of sex that way."
"Well, there you are then, you see?"
"When you, uh, take it under advisement, consider it from that angle."
"Viewed as a sport, it becomes an excellent workout."
"You know, you're right?"
"Look at all that it brings into play!"
"How terribly insightful of the child, don't you think, Brim?"
"Terribly."
Adding, to himself, Touch, my dear Cindy.
Because, while not contradicting her hostess, Cindy has managed to very deftly turn the contention that this was a performance into a perfectly honorable, perfectly acceptable kind of performance, that of the athlete rather than the actress.
Because the athlete performs for him or herself.
And the audience is incidental.
They are there, are watching for their own benefit, even as the athlete does what needs to be done for and in the sport itself.
And seeks nothing, requires nothing from any superfluous onlookers.
So that Cindy is telling Samantha that, far from trying to ingratiate herself in their eyes, their very presence was a matter of total indifference.
And Brim doubts that Samantha will try that again.
Samantha is also highly intelligent, and thus can be relied upon to learn from experience.
Samantha smiles enigmatically, continuing to eat her lunch.
And her silence can only be taken as new respect for Cindy.
Because the other message to Samantha is the old; If you haven't tried it, don't knock it, because you really don't know what you were looking at, much less talking about.
But Cindy wonders if she has not, after all, out-clevered herself.
Because, for what she has in mind, that would hardly do.
Unless-later for that.
First, she wants to get Brim alone, if possible.
"If you two will excuse me," Cindy says, when they are done eating, "I think I'd like to go to my cabin and lie down for awhile."
"This morning's ... exertions seem to have taken their toll."
"Quite all right, my dear," Brim says. "I have to get on the phone to Paris this afternoon and see what the wild and crazy Leon has been up to, other than licking his wounds."
"Uh, Samantha, my dear, would you care to have me send the same team to you by the pool to while away the hours?"
"Oh, that won't be necessary, dear, but thanks for thinking of me."
"I may visit the kitchen this afternoon, perhaps learn a few culinary secrets from the chef."
"Fascinating to watch, actually, genius at work, that sort of thing."
And they go their separate ways.
But not for long, Cindy suspects.
Because Brim is hardly the kind to ignore the sort of erection he had earlier today.
If what Cindy was doing could be termed a sport, then he is a definite aficionado.
And one who is in a unique position not to be forced to deny himself any of the fruits of his inspiration.
So that Cindy undresses and lies naked atop her bed, waiting.
But not for long.
Because the knock comes, soft and rapid.
"Come in."
And of course, it's Brim.
And the fact that she is naked shows that she was expecting him.
"Leon can wait," Brim says.
"I had a feeling he could," Cindy replies.
"So I see."
"Well now. What shall we do?"
"Something we haven't done before."
"From that ever-narrowing list of possibilities, what is your pleasure, my dear?"
"Get naked and I'll show you."
Quickly, Brim strips, a process facilitated by the fact that he wears no underwear.
"I was hoping you'd ask," he explains.
"How very chivalrous of you to wait to be asked."
"Oh, not at all."
"If I am no longer sufficiently inspiring, then perhaps the game is over for me."
"And an excellent rule, carried over from business, is that bad news should be received as soon as possible."
"A rather dangerous head game to play with yourself, Brim," Cindy murmurs, reaching for his big, heavy balls, pulling them-and him-over to the bed, where he climbs on. "And one having more to do with me than yourself."
"How so?" he asks, lying down beside her.
"Because you could draw a false and horrible conclusion, based on the actions or non-actions of an eighteen year old girl, just out of high school."
"In which case, my dear, the game would indeed be over for me, in more ways than one."
"My success, in boardroom or bed, is built on my ability to read people."
"And if I have read you wrongly, then I am in more than one variety of deep shit."
"My, my," Cindy says, "I shall have to learn to walk on eggs."
"Oh, not at all."
"Just be your own true self and all will be well with you. And me."
"How very reassuring, Brim."
"And now, there's something I've wanted to do, ever since the first time I saw it."
"It?"
Then, "Aah."
As Cindy slides down in the bed beside Brim, her hand cupping his balls all the while.
And now, she crouches between his legs.
And takes the head of his massive prong between her lips, the saliva already starting to flow with the activation of her sexual arousal.
And now, she sucks it like a lollipop.
Her tongue explores it intimately, completely.
She examines the large indentation of the eye with the tip of her tongue.
Then, she travels all over the taut, warm, rounded surface.
Then, she explores the flared flange at the rear, rubbery and thick, going round and round, now on top, now on the bottom, where the fish head joins to the shaft.
She cannot seem to get enough of his huge knob, actually drooling over it, her sucking becoming wetter and wetter.
And now, she descends beyond the head, her lips wetly embracing part of the shaft as her cheeks form a slight vacuum.
And now, she is bobbing her head up and down, sucking his cock.
And now, she is rolling her head around, reaming her mouth with it.
And sending thrill after thrill of sexual arousal coursing through Brim's whole large frame with each rotation.
So that Brim very quickly goes to monstrously full erection.
And still Cindy does not let up.
Lower and lower she goes on the massive prong.
So that now, Brim can quite clearly feel the battering ram head of his monster against the back of her throat at each descent.
And each withdrawal brings him higher up the rainbow of his arousal, as she sucks him, her tongue caressing his hot, hard shaft, licking and flickering.
And now, because she cannot get all of him into her head, Cindy opens the back of her throat, suppressing her gag reflex, relaxing all of her neck except the connection of the trapeziums at the base of her skull, and-
Admits him.
And yes, she is lowering and lowering her head now, the great plum of his knob going beyond the soft palate, in, in, into her neck.
Slowly, surely, she goes down, down, down on him until her upper lip is in his ample bush, her lower lip touching the sack of his balls and the balls themselves, locked tightly to the base of his rampant invader now, with his full arousal.
And now, she pulls back all the way.
And goes down again, testing the angle and the action.
Satisfied, she tries it again, only faster.
It works.
So that now, she is free to bob up and down with the same confidence, the same proficiency with which she was sucking his cock before.
And still is.
Sucking, that is.
Except that now, there is more to it than just sucking.
Because this is deep throat.
And more than deep throat, this is deep throat at the bottom, then sucking at the top.
As Cindy activates the whole of her upper body's interior in Brim's behalf.
And Brim, for all his jaded experience, has never felt anything quite like this.
Which is exactly as Cindy intended.
Okay, Samantha-baby, she says, inwardly, you wanna talk about your great performances, try this one on for size, kid.
Because she knows that Brim doesn't care at the moment what this is called, other than deep throat.
And a super kind of deep throat at that.
This, he cannot get just anywhere.
This, money can't buy.
This is a unique experience, and one which he would be hard put to duplicate.
He needs, he must have ... this.
Okay, so he was shining her on somewhat before, with his talk of having the same intensity, the same hunger, the same needs as herself.
He is never out of control, all right?
But here, now, this is something which he would as soon not do without, which is therefore, in that sense, necessary to him.
And Brim is one in a position to define his necessity.
And I just have, he tells himself.
He needs this, no question.
He thought he had it all, but he was wrong.
He thought of Cindy as being just another adventure for him, but she has suddenly become more, much more than that.
As she works him into a frenzy.
So that his hands and arms are flopping about, his head rolling from side to side, his face and upper body turning florid, his breath coming in deep, hoarse gasps.
As Cindy works away on him flawlessly.
As she too becomes aroused, both from the feedback of his reactions and from the presence, within herself, inside her head and throat, of the ultimate symbol to herself of the ultimate pleasure.
The real thing, and a superb example thereof.
She has blown others before, indeed has deep throated others before this.
But nothing this size.
Nothing of such noble proportion, such ardent response.
Yes, this is special, very special indeed.
So special, in fact, that it is able to overcome these opulent surroundings which have taken on such importance to Cindy.
So that there is no question now of her needing, requiring as an integral part of her sexual satisfaction, this exotic and fabulous background.
How ironic that this should be the case, that the one cock which is perfectly acceptable without all this should be the very one which has all this, the one in whose name all this was acquired.
Because there is no doubt at all in Cindy's mind that this vessel and all who sail in her are, at the core, the foundation of their reason for being here, sexual.
And Samantha may be a hot number, but there is only one sex drive that could have produced all this, and that is Brim's.
And she is touch right now with his foundation, his core, his essence.
And she is in close communication with that drive itself.
Which is, at the moment, realizing-making real- what simply has to be its fondest hopes and imaginings.
Because yes, it can feel like this, can feel this good, this great.
No question.
Not anymore.
What you feel is what you get.
And it absolutely doesn't get any better than this.
Because, if the sensations were any more intense, any more exciting, Brim does not think he would survive them.
Yes, he would literally give up the ghost, out of sheer happiness.
And Cindy is doing this for him.
And he wishes it could go on forever.
But he has been around long enough to know that it can't.
And he does not put up a very gallant struggle to fight the feeling, to delay it.
Because the pleasure is too exquisite, too irresistible.
And too much of him wants more and more, wants to feel that next level and the next and the next of this out-of-this-world experience.
So that he very quickly finds himself coming and coming.
As Cindy pulls back her head, confining herself to sucking, in order to receive his load in her mouth, on her tongue.
As wad after wad of his hot, thick, copious jism shoots into her face, creaming tongue and roof, palate and cheeks.
As Cindy swallows again and again, savoring the very essence of the essential.
Until, at last, his spasms subside and he relaxes completely.
And Cindy goes to the bathroom, preparing two washcloths, the one soaped, the other for rinsing.
And returns to him, servicing his still tumescent organ.
And goes back and forth to the bathroom, this time returning with a towel, with which she dries him off as he begins to soften.
And stays right beside him, her body against his.
And Brim cannot say whether it is the result of what he has just experienced, whether it is Cindy's youth and beauty, or the whole atmosphere of the voyage itself.
But, whatever the case, it takes no more than ten minutes of his lying there, holding her in his arms, before-
And he tries not to let Cindy think it is anything at all out of the ordinary.
But there it is.
And he knows that, although the action before aroused Cindy, it did not get her off.
But he knows exactly what to do about that.
Except that, before he can move, she is above him, straddling him.
Then, one hand guiding the newly-awakened monster, she impales herself on it, just as she did with Bill earlier.
And rotates her hips, around and around, reaming her pussy with his huge prong.
And leans forward, brushing her nipples across his face.
And pumps up and down, her pussy sucking his cock as her mouth did earlier.
And varies her motion.
And becomes visibly excited.
So that Brim, looking up at her face, sees her color go ruddy, as it had earlier today.
Which Samantha ass hole apparently failed to observe.
Performance indeed!
Samantha has a lot to learn from this bright young lady, Brim thinks.
Just before he stops thinking altogether, surrendering his mind to the sensations of pleasure which are being generated in his body, miraculous because of their taking place so soon after his last climax.
He has not been this fast, has not been this hard, has not had this short a refractory period in fifteen years!
And this delicious creature is making it all happen to and fro and within him.
And he will not soon forget.
Which, of course, is the whole idea.
Because Cindy knows exactly what she is doing-to, for, within him.
And it is true that she is aroused.
And it is also true that right now, she too is letting go in her mind, wallowing in the lascivious sensations which are flooding through her as Brim's big baton boffs her bounteously, responding to her every move.
So that now, together, they rise higher and higher, until-
They are coming and coming, her multiple orgasms interspersed with his discharge, more muscular action than product this time around, but who cares?
Until, at last, their spasms subside, then cease.
And Brim clasps her to himself.
And Cindy knows.
She knows that she can "work" on this ship next summer.
She knows that she can have a part time job at Brim's main office.
She knows that he will see her as often as possible.
She knows that Samantha will not have jack shit to say about any of this.
When Samantha can do for Brim what Cindy can, Cindy tells herself, then she can have her say in what he does with her, in what they do together.
Confident in this, she snuggles up to Brim and together, they fall asleep.
* * *
The voyage is over.
They have cruised the Mediterranean, stopping frequently, seeing the sights, from Marseilles to Trieste on the Adriatic.
Cindy has procured all the necessary promises from Brim, of course.
And she is willing to let Samantha do her damnedest, for all the good it will do her, to foil Cindy's-and Brim's-plans.
Her parents have been effusive in their thanks to the Steeles.
And now, there is all that shopping to do for school.
And all this unpacking, as her mother marvels over the expensive gifts the Steeles have procured for Cindy along the way.
Cindy says nothing to her folks about her plans for next summer, or about her internship with Brim's firm.
Too soon, she tells herself. First, do well in school.
She takes it easy her first few days back home, other than for the shopping, which is intense.
She lets nobody know she's back.
But then, one day, the phone rings.
One of the boys from school, it is.
And his voice touches a chord within herself that she thought was now reserved for sex with young sailors and horny broads and aging men with big cocks on luxury ships.
And she realizes that she is going to have to accommodate herself.
Because she still has this need, this itch which must be scratched.
And here is Phil, on the line, waiting and, she is sure, ready.
And sure, it'll be Burger King and not Crab Louis.
And a cheap motel room and not the master cabin of an ocean-going motor yacht.
And it'll be an ordinary, healthy young cock and not that of some lusty sailor or gracefully maturing giant of a tycoon.
But when the need is as acute, as obsessive as Cindy's, one learns to adjust, to adapt.
"I'd love to see you, Phil ... Tonight? Why not? ... Okay, see ya in fifteen. Ciao."
She will have a good time with Phil and vice versa.
And try not to think about a huge yacht, lit up like an ocean liner, wending its way majestically down the coast to Miami, where the Steeles will be staying for a short while, before heading back this way.
