Margaret and I had been saving for several years for our honeymoon. We'd been engaged for almost four years. One thing and another had kept delaying our marriage. Now that we were approaching our thirtieth birthdays we were determined to take the plunge. We both had real good jobs at the same ad agency, so it wasn't a question of money. She spent every weekend at my place and I stopped up to see her a couple of times during the week so we were getting as much sex as though we were already married. It probably happens to a lot of couples whose court ship lasts too long, but we were getting a little bored with each other. As the months passed into years we became so used to being engaged that we secretly feared that the marriage ceremony would remove the pot of gold from the end of our long rainbow.
When I awakened this particular Sunday morning, it was raining. Rain always makes me sexy, but then so does snow and sunshine. Margaret's nude body was snuggled close to mine. My arm was around her and my right hand cupped her large left breast. I loved the feel of her body when it was all warm from sleep. It felt especially good this damp, chilly April morning. As I opened one eye to greet the gray day, I was aware of a slight throbbing in my head from all the champagne at the boss' annual dinner party last night. I soon forgot my hangover as I became aware of an even stronger throbbing in my swollen cock. I always wake up with a hard-on and this morning was no exception. The fact that I had balled the big redhead twice after we got home last night in no way affected my habitual morning erection.
I rolled the sleeping girl over onto her back and gently parted her thighs. She snored softly as I slipped between them and guided the knob of my burning prick between the delicate lips of that hot, wet snatch. I slid all the way in to my balls on the very first stroke. God, but I loved her cunt in the morning. It was feverishly hot and delightfully juicy from the two big loads of come I had pumped into it just five or six hours ago. I fucked her slowly and tenderly, wondering if I could go all the way without awakening her.
Even in her sleep she was responsive to my lovemaking, raising her crotch to meet my every stroke. My thrusts became more demanding now and her responses matched the increased tempo. Her mouth fell open and she emitted little animal noises that were neither moans nor words as she slowly opened her eyes and blinked away the sleep. When she realized that it was not a dream, she threw her legs around my hips and pulled me even deeper into her. Her arms reached up and urged me down to where our lips met and her tongue invaded my mouth in perfect unison with my prick's motions in and out of her creamy cunt.
Those big tits ground up into my chest and as we furiously approached the mutual climax that was rushing upon us, I could feel my balls slap into the cleft of her upraised ass. Her mouth was still pressed to mine as she mumbled the expected words. "Harder, darling, faster and harder. Oh yes, just like that. I'm coming. Any second now. Try to come with me. Let me feel that beautiful prick pour out its love deep inside my cunt. Now, now, now! Ahhhhh."
I felt new juices engulf the swollen head of my embedded cock accompanied by the rhythmic clutchings of her innermost series of muscles just as the skyrocket burst in my head and a million colored lights flashed behind my eyeballs as my personal depth bomb exploded in the lowest fathoms of her sweet channel and I flooded its depths with a huge load of my boiling white come. Every inch of her body enjoyed the gifts which her throbbing cunt was receiving. Her legs trembled, her torso shook, her tits heaved up tightly to my chest and her fingers gripped the cheeks of my ass like a dual vise. She held me all the way in her until a second orgasm swept through her body while her cunt grabbed and squeezed my spent cock so hard that I was afraid it would be black and blue when she finally let me take it out. We both damn near passed out from the sheer excitement of our well-timed climaxes.
When the "all clear" sounded from deep inside of her flooded chasm, we fell apart and collapsed onto the mattress, looking like a pair of worn-out rag dolls that had lost half of their stuffing. She was still gasping for breath and lolling her head from side to side on the pillow when I crawled limply from bed to plug in the coffee pot and bring in the Sunday paper.
Now the throbbing in my head was unbearable. Aspirin did no good at all for me and I couldn't seem to remember to buy Bromo-Seltzer. I went to the refrigerator and got an icy cold can of beer and carried it into the bath room. I caught a frightening glimpse of myself in the mirror. I appeared to be bleeding to death through the eyeballs. When I stuck out my tongue it was like unrolling a yellow flannel banner. I cursed the boss and his fucking champagne parties. That stuff is just not for me. The five or six glasses last night, on top of the four martinis I'd had here while waiting for Margaret to get dressed, had been nearly lethal. The cold beer helped a little.
In sheer desperation I thought of my old secret hangover cure which I had discovered quite by accident. I hopped in the shower and shampooed my hair, lathering three or four times. I don't know why this works, unless maybe the gentle fingertip massage of lathering gets the excess blood trapped in your head to circulating. I finished off with an ice cold rinse. As soon as I had toweled dry, I polished off the rest of the beer. Between the two I began to think my chances for survival were somewhat improved.
I had just slipped on my robe when Margaret came into the bathroom. I had not thought to take her a towel. Some of the excess come I had pumped into her had oozed out of her full cunt and ran in twin rivulets down her thighs almost to her knees. I always got a wild thrill at the sight of that big muff of copper-colored fur at the base of her belly. It left little doubt as to the authenticity of her bright auburn hair.
"Mind if I tinkle?" she asked brightly as she sat herself on the throne and immediately indicated that she had no intention of waiting for my answer. There is something very unsexy about listening to a woman pee, so I gave her a little privacy and went in to pour the coffee.
Once we had reviewed the comic section and ascertained that our friend Snoopy had not been shot down in flames by the Red Baron and that Andy Capp had not drunk himself to death, we went into our weekly ritual of poring over the cruise ads in the travel section and discussing their pros and cons for our honeymoon. We had already considered and rejected Hawaii as being too commercial and Tahiti as being too primitive.
Most of the ads were lavish half-page spreads depicting palatial ocean liners with six swimming pools and eleven bars. One small, very discreet ad attracted our attention by sheer contrast. There was a small photograph of a magnificent private yacht and the usual list of European and Mediterranean ports. What really piqued our curiosity was the wording of the brief text.
WANTED: Thirty congenial passengers for a guided tour of the major sex capitals of the world. Superb private yacht, chartered from internationally known playboy, sleeps thirty, lays sixty. Sexy singles and swinging couples only. No fags or dikes. Guest privileges at world's outstanding bordellos like the Fanny Hill Club of London and the House of All Nations in Paris. Tour directed by prominent sexologist. This trip should do for the boudoir what the famous Gordon Bleu tour does for the gourmet's kitchen. Your opportunity to live like a king for thirty days for three thousand dollars. For qualifying interview and get-acquainted party, call 652-2441.
We laughed over the ad and I went to the desk to get my scissors to cut it out. I doubted that any of my clients read the travel section of the paper and this would make a good conversation piece when I had lunch with them. When I got back to the table Margaret had already torn out the ad and was making a note of the phone number. She had that special look that redheads get when they make up their mind to something.
"What the hell are you up to? You planning to report them to the Better Business Bureau or do you intend to scuttle their boat?" I asked.
"Nothing could be farther from my mind. I have just reached a decision. If this ad is on the up and up and I'm quite sure that it is, I intend to see to it that you, my beloved fianc', take advantage of this rare educational opportunity. I'm even willing to pay half of your fare, under certain circumstances." As she spoke, those big green eyes of hers fixed me with a steady stare. I knew she was serious but I couldn't believe my ears.
"What! Look, either I'm still drunk from last night or you've finally flipped your pretty red wig. I haven't so much as kissed another girl since you offered me your 'pearl of great price' four years ago. Even before that, my experience was unbelievably limited. Now that we're about to get married, you tell me that you would want me to go off on this, this, this cooze-cruise thing where I would be expected to have sex with other women? I don't get it."
Instead of answering me she got up and came around the table. She held out her hands. She was still nude and that superb shape of hers was beginning to get to me again. She led me over to the big club chair. Once I was settled comfortably, she cuddled down at my feet. I knew she was trying to get her thoughts assembled into words. I learned a long time ago never to try to rush a thinking redhead. She unknotted the belt of my robe and threw it open. She cradled her head against my limp, but interested, pecker. Finally, when she had completed her mental rehearsal of what she had to say, she raised her head and looked up at me. Her eyes were puffy and she was near tears.
As though to keep her nerves in check she absently stroked and fondled my cock and balls as she spoke her little piece:
"Bob, the way we keep pushing back our wed ding date makes it look like we're trying to set some new endurance record for engagements. It's an open joke among our friends and I'm almost too embarrassed to even mention it in front of my family. I've thought about it a lot more than you realize. I even bought a couple of books on psychology to try to figure it out. I think I've come up with a few answers. I want to discuss them with you. I was going to broach the subject in some way. This cruise adjust kinda brought everything into focus. Will you promise not to jump all over me until I finish? Please."
My cock had been growing steadily as she toyed with it while she spoke. She looked at it now, as though aware of what she was doing for the first time. She bent down and gave it a little kiss. Then she looked up for my answer. "All right. I still think you're nuts, but I'll listen quietly and promise not to interrupt. I hope it doesn't take too long. Junior down there looks like he might grow a little impatient."
"You just be patient, little man," she spoke to it as she patted it in a way which had just the opposite effect than what her words asked for. "Mama has to talk to Daddy about something real important. When we're all finished, I have some very nice plans for you."
Looking back up at my face now she outlined her self-analysis in a way that I had to admire for its honesty and depth.
"Bob, we are very much in love and we should be married. Our big hang-up is that we're afraid of marriage because we're not really ready for it. Even though we're pushing thirty, we are both immature and very inexperienced. You're the only man I've ever been with and you told me of your few incomplete sex experiences before I came along. We cling to the semi-security of being engaged and going to bed three or four times a week. We don't feel trapped that way. We're like children that are happy and secure in toyland but know that when they leave they can never return again.
"Bob, my poor darling. You've never had a chance to sow your wild oats. It isn't fair. I want you to get it all out of your system before the wedding ceremony, not sneak around afterward, trying to recapture a youthful experience and phase of life that marriage cheated you out of. That's why I think you should have this trip."
"You're serious. You really want me to go. I still don't understand your logic."
"I want you to make that trip, yes. I want you to fuck every girl and woman aboard. Make them all give you head too. When you visit those fancy whorehouses, make sure you get the full treatment, whatever it may be. For those thirty days I want you to fuck and suck everything in sight. Then, when you come home, we will do one of two things. We will either never see each other again, or we'll get married immediately. If we get married and I ever catch you dunking that dickey into any other cunt, I'll bite it off at the roots." As if to emphasize the point, she swooped down and swept most of my now stiff cock into her mouth and gave it a real sharp bite at a point just a fraction of an inch above my balls.
"One thing more. I want you to learn all the tricks and then bring them home and use them on Mama alone. Is that a deal?" She smiled bravely and one tear managed to escape and roll down her cheek. She was taking a desperate chance and knew it, but it proved how very badly she wanted me for her very own permanent man.
"Oh, sure, it's a deal, but they probably won't accept me anyway. Even if they do, what are you going to be doing while I'm on this one month floating orgy?"
"Who knows, Bobby. I might even sow a few wild oats of my own." As if to describe what she had in mind she bent over me and slipped her cool, moist lips over the tip of my burning cock. Her tongue did a little devil dance all over it as she slid her lips farther and farther down the stiff shaft. Finally, when she had encased every bit of it, she stuck out her tongue and tickled my balls while all of my cock was deep in her throat. She cupped my swollen balls in both soft hands and pulled them up, as if to demand even more of that cock in her mouth. One fingertip found its way into my asshole while she started the long up and down strokes that shot me to the heights of ecstasy. Right now that educated mouth of hers seemed every bit as sensational as that hot, wet cunt had felt this morning. I had taught her everything she knew about sex and each little thing had been designed to provide me with the greatest degree of pleasure.
If, by some miracle, things did work out and I went on this wild sex cruise, then I could come home and teach my willing student every trick I had picked up. While most of the male passengers would have only thirty days and nights of sensuous delights, I would have a lifetime of them ahead of me. At the moment I was brought out of this happy reverie by the insistent demands of her mouth upon my entrapped organ as she Frenched it eagerly and expertly. I reached down between my legs and pressed her big, soft tits to my hot balls, just moments before that hot wet mouth and dancing tongue brought me to a level of sexual delight that is simply be yond the limits of human endurance. I almost caught her unprepared as I suddenly and without the usual warning symptoms, gushed out a huge measure of molten manhood into the sweet, warm and moist confines of her mouth and throat. It flooded into her so fast that she was hard pressed to keep swallowing hard enough and fast enough not to gag on it. I loved feeling her Adam's apple bob up and down against the very root of my staff as she swallowed my out pouring of come into her ruby mouth.
She stayed on it for several minutes until it got all soft and limp and she was satisfied that she had extracted every last drop of my nectar. Then she slipped off it and raised her mouth to mine and kissed me deeply. I enjoyed slipping my tongue deep inside her mouth into the very area that had so recently been filled to capacity by my swollen cock. I caught a vague flavor of my own come on her tongue and teeth. It was like pulverized pecan meats mixed in soft whipped cream.
Finally she scrambled to her feet and stood before me. Her hands were on her hips and those huge tits heaved with every breath. The big coppery muff seemed to shine with a radiance of its own as she stood above me like a huge Amazon warrior woman surveying some thoroughly defeated adversary. I could never help but admire that big, wonderful body.
Giving me a knowing little smile, she cooed seductively, "I took a nice, long, flavored douche while I was in the bathroom a while ago."
"Well then, it looks like this is just the end of the half ... time to change sides." I got up and helped her settle down into the big comfortable chair while I fell into an Indian peace pipe squat between her widespread thighs. I pressed my face into that ruby muff and just nuzzled around with my lips and nose, as my nostrils inhaled deeply of the sweet, fresh woman smell of that dense mound of titian cunthair.
She was squirming about now, anxious to get on with my return of her own sweet favors to my manhood. My tongue tenderly parted the inner lips of her vagina. It looked and tasted so inviting that I wanted to shove my whole head into it. Hooking two fingers inside each of these lovely lips, I spread her open as wide as I could and gazed into the very depths of her womanhood. I had never examined her quite this closely before. It was a beautiful thing to behold. It was like standing in the entrance of some beautiful crystal cave and gazing in through strata after strata of delicately hued, luminescent walls and caverns of pure pink quartz.
Even as I gazed enthralled deep into her insides, little beads of precoital fluids appeared like pearly dewdrops on the crystal walls. My tongue became jealous of my eyes at this point and I allowed it to explore the pearly pink tunnel in its own searching manner. My fingers ran playfully through the thick crimson forest above the pink tunnel into which my tongue was bur rowing so happily. I worked my way through the dense growth and across the arctic whiteness of her stomach to scale the ivory mounds of those heaving breasts. I massaged each nipple between a thumb and forefinger and felt them swell and harden to my touch as I plunged deeper and deeper into that velvet vulva. By the time I got up to her clitoris, it had become a pink and white erection resembling a tiny baby albino turtle cautiously sticking its soft head out of its shell. I fastened my lips upon it and licked a few times up and down while she ground her hips beneath me like a burlesque dancer in heat.
When I finally sucked that swollen little clit into my mouth and sucked it while I tongue massaged it, she really shifted into high gear. She bucked like a wild mustang. I would never have been able to maintain contact with her now pulsating cunt if she had not locked my head in a virtual death grip of thighs and hands and held my mouth tight to that burning cunt as she flowed forth the signs of her appreciation for several minutes.
I love the taste of her cunt. I guess it sounds pretty stupid to say this, but it is the most feminine flavor in the world. It is like mother's milk and angel's saliva mixed with rare spices into an elixir of the gods of love that is the sweetest aphrodisiac of Venus. It really blows my mind. It always gives me a crazy kind of lovers' fever that is like the cause and the cure all wrapped up in one.
Like always, Margaret came not just with her cunt, but with her whole body. Her eyes watered, her nose ran, her teeth chattered, her ears popped like in an airplane and she went into a sort of horizontal St. Vitus dance. I sometimes suspected during the throes of her emotional re lease that between her teeth and under her fingernails and toenails were thoroughly cleaned by ultrasonic vibrations like those television commercials show. Anyway, after the hot winds finally stopped blowing through the corridors and doorways of her searing body, she slowly got herself reassembled and volunteered to make us a husky lunch. The rain had let up into a light drizzle now and here and there were patches of light in the clouds. It looked as though it might clear off by evening.
From the tiny kitchen Margaret called out several alternative menus. Since I am one of those rare guys who thinks breakfast is the greatest meal of the day, I voted for a sort of brunch arrangement. She had brought in a bag of groceries Friday night but I hadn't paid too much attention when she put things away. I went out to the kitchen and opened another cold beer which I sipped on as I admired her efficiency. Unlike most women, she enjoyed hanging around the apartment in the nude. She even cooked in the nude. I prayed she would not permanently scar one of those wonderful tits in the electric skillet. At times they bounced dangerously close to the gas flames as she produced English muffins, Danish ham, poached four eggs and opened a can of hollandaise sauce.
For my contribution to our little house party, I whomped up a large pair of my famous Sunday morning Bloody Marys. I use V-8 instead of tomato juice. For a stir rod I use a long fresh celery stalk and just for good measure I put in a long quartered slice of peeled cucumber, like I had once in a Pimm's Cup. It was all I liked about the drink. Margaret says that with my Bloody Marys she doesn't have to serve a salad. I whip up the only drink in town that you have to chew.
It was after three in the afternoon when we finished brunch. I went to the bathroom to shave while she tidied up the kitchen. When I re turned to the little bar that separated the living room and kitchen, she was on the phone scribbling down addresses and instructions. I did the manly thing under the circumstances and built myself a martini.
"What was that all about?" I asked when she finally got off the phone.
"That, my dear boy, was about your trip. I got you, at least, over the first hurdle. The sexologist who is setting it up is a very charming man named Evans. The poor dear seems so sincere. He says he had been simply besieged by crank calls all day after the ad appeared. He has a certain series of tests and experiments he wants to conduct on the tour, but for the most part it sounds like a ball. Anyway, we are to come over and meet him and a few of the serious applicants this evening at seven."
I knew that I should make some sort of comment but I didn't dare. What in the name of almighty hell can a guy say when his fianc'e wants to take her own savings for her honeymoon and sponsor her groom to be on a wild, month long orgy in which he'll be up to his ass in boff and razzle with at least fifteen other chicks. I'll admit that I was pretty damn anxious for seven o'clock to roll around. I wanted to get a load of this guy and even more so, of some of the other potential passengers, especially the females. That appointment was almost two and a half hours away from now. I finally determined to kill two birds with one stone. I took Margaret back to bed and both killed time and expressed my gratitude to her by giving her a very thorough fucking that would have to last us until Tuesday or Wednesday now. Afterward, I rested for a while and then got up and dressed to go with her to meet Dr. Evans and some of the kooky members of his proposed crew.
CHAPTER TWO
At a few minutes after seven, we arrived at the address which Margaret had been given on the phone. It was an imposing-looking edifice; one of the old millionaire's townhouses which had been modernized and renovated to serve as both professional offices and deluxe residence. The polished brass plaque on the door announced that we were, indeed, at the right place.
REX EVANS, PhD
Strictly by Appointment
I didn't even hear the door chimes deep inside the house. They must have worked because, a few moments later, the large door was swung open by a butler in full uniform, like you usually only see in old TV movies these days. Something in his attitude led me to believe that he was far from being the only servant in this domicile.
"You would be Mr. Robert Robinson." He made it as an announcement, not a question. "Dr. Evans is expecting you. Please come this way."
He led us down a broad white and gray marble entry hall with magnificent sculptures in statuary recesses in the walls. Paintings filled the blank wall spaces between the niches for three dimensional art. All were on a single theme ... my favorite in the entire realm of art ... the nude female form. At least Dr. Evans and I agreed on our artistic taste.
We followed through a tremendous formal drawing room which contained enough Louis XIV furniture to have denuded an entire section of Versailles. I still wasn't sure exactly what a sexologist did. Whatever it was, it was obvious that Rex Evans, PhD, either did it damn well, or did damn well at it.
We were left to wait in a small (for this place) study with the most beautiful carved pine paneling I have ever seen. Any single panel would have been a museum piece representing a master piece of wood carver's art. The large desk with the tooled leather top had obviously been custom made for the room. The oxblood leather wing chair behind it was apparently the business throne of Dr. Evans. From an adjoining room we heard muffled voices and occasional laughter. I was beginning to feel a little apprehensive about the whole deal when a door behind us opened. I turned to see an outstandingly beautiful young woman approaching us.
"Good evening." She beamed her voice in such a way that her words seemed to be struggling with her body to gain attention. Her body won. "I'm Martha Marlowe, Dr. Evans' secretary. He will be with you in just a moment. May I bring you a drink?" There was something chesty about her voice, but then, that figured. I hoped for Dr. Evans' sake that she was more than just a secretary. If this was to be one of the "congenial passengers" on that cruise, I was ready to start swimming to the boat right now.
I hardly recognized my voice when I found it long enough to order two martinis. As she left to get them I was treated to the sight of her lovely derriere and well-rounded calves. She was prettier going away than most women are coming right at you.
Dr. Evans entered before she returned with the drinks. He was a charming little guy whom you liked at the first meeting. Something about his facial expression made me think of a lecherous cherub. If you can conjure up an image of Santa Claus thinking of a dirty joke, then you're got the picture. He took Margaret's hand, then mine, in an easy relaxed grasp as he introduced himself, then looked around as though wondering where he should sit. He seemed a little timid occupying his throne behind the big desk.
"I must confess that I have been more anxious to meet you than any of the others who phoned. Miss Wilson, may I call you Margaret?" His tone was one that put us completely at ease, as though we were talking with a very old and close friend.
"Please do." Margaret smiled, just as the lovely Marlowe body returned bearing two perfect martinis, among other things.
"As I understand it, you and Bob Robinson here are planning on getting married. You are even willing to help him financially to take this trip as a sort of final fling so that he will not enter marriage feeling that he has missed any of the thrills of his freedom. Is that essentially correct?"
"Yes, it is. Do you think I'm crazy?" Margaret asked, showing concern for the merit of her plan for the first time.
"Quite to the contrary. I think that you are embarking on one of the most highly intelligent approaches to marriage I have ever encountered. I would lay odds that your marriage will be a permanent and highly successful one. That is, provided that your swain here is as practical and broadminded as you are. I will be particularly interested in observing his reactions to some of the situations I intend to induce in the form of psychological experiments during this thirty-day study trip. How do you think you will feel during that month that you are here working and he is engaged in a series of sex affairs with countless other women?"
He gave her a long, serious look now and I had the feeling that her answer to this question would be the determining factor as to whether or not I would be accepted for the trip.
Margaret fixed him with a level stare from those big green eyes that gave her, at times, an almost catlike appearance. Her voice indicated that her answer to his question was no spur of the moment one. "I am quite sure that most of the time I will suffer the tortures of the damned. I would, however, prefer to do my suffering all at once and have it over with in thirty days be ore the wedding, rather than in dribs and drabs for thirty years afterward. Even as a child I preferred to gulp my castor oil down in one big, nasty portion, rather than drag it out laced into a pint of orange juice."
Dr. Evans seemed pleased with her answer. He did not bother to direct a single question to me. Perhaps my own thoughts on the trip were all too obvious to him by the way I kept looking at Martha Marlowe, He arose and suggested that we go in and join the others.
CHAPTER THREE
The large room into which he led us was starkly modern in contrast to the traditional formality of the others we had seen. Seven other guests were here, drinking and chatting, as at any proper cocktail party. At our host's insistence, we all remained nameless. Only when the final passenger list was selected would we be introduced.
There were two couples in their early forties, a man and wife in their mid-fifties, who looked strangely out of place in a group assembled for the avowed intention of embarking on a pro longed orgy. The odd member was a tall, willowy blonde who appeared to be about twenty three. She was sitting alone at a small bar behind which a quietly efficient uniformed house boy was preparing two more perfect martinis as we approached. He placed them in front of the two stools which flanked the lone woman. Margaret and I joined her. I had to fight back the natural inclination to introduce ourselves. Instead we simply smiled and exchanged greetings. When we had exhausted the usual cocktail party small talk, Margaret asked the girl, quite casually, what her interest was in embarking on the proposed junket.
"I have never been able to reach an orgasm. I hope that this trip can teach me how to achieve fantastic, explosive ones, like they describe in the books I've read." She had a deep, sexy voice and gave her answer as matter of factly as though she were commenting on the local weather. Margaret shot me a quick glance as I tried desperately to look uninterested in their topic of girl-talk while I struggled to keep from choking on the half-swallowed martini it caught me with, midway between my palate and Adam's apple.
"I enjoy sex all right, but then nothing really happens. I know from the expressions on my partners' faces that they enjoy an ecstatically thrilling climax and yet I'm just left hanging. I guess I'm not a very good lay. I feel that I am being cheated out of something and in a way, so are they. I am very much in love with a fine man and hope to marry him, if I can solve my problem. This trip will provide the answer, one way or another. I have no desire to tie him down to a frigid wife." Her candor and lack of embarrassment at discussing, with strangers, such an intimate subject was both amazing and refreshing. I found that I was beginning to like little Miss What's Her Name and knew that I would be more than happy to help her with her problem. That's the way I am ... all heart.
It seemed to have suddenly gotten very warm in the room and I gulped down the rest of my martini. That houseboy at the bar was a real gem. Before I placed the empty glass on the bar he had a fresh one in place to exchange for it.
Martha Marlowe approached us now and believe me, approached is the word. That gal had a body that kinda came at me in sections. I could have kissed Margaret when she asked Martha the question that had been foremost in my mind.
"Tell me, Miss Marlowe, will you be accompanying Dr. Evans and the group on this tour?"
"Oh, yes. You see, in addition to acting as his secretary I am also his research associate. I am in charge of some of the controlled studies we plan to report on." She had a delightful way of punctuating her phrases with that toothpaste ad smile of hers. Have you ever seen a set of teeth that gave you a hard-on? Well, this babe had 'em. If she had any laboratory studies in sex planned I'd volunteer to be her guinea pig any time.
Apparently Martha had been instructed to see that the guests mix. Before I realized it, she was leading us away from the little blonde orgasm seeker at the bar and guiding us to one of the other couples. I pegged him as probably being a successful accountant and his wife as coming from strictly a Junior League background. Martha did a superb job of the impossible task of performing nameless introductions. She outlined briefly the reasons why I was considering the trip and within minutes this staid-looking couple were chatting freely with us on the usually taboo subject of their personal sex lives.
"We've been married for fifteen years now. We have no children and are fascinated by all this talk about modern sex freedoms. We are basic ally old squares and thought, before it is too late, we should spread our wings and fly a little. This seemed like the perfect chance to learn how to do so."
Somehow they neither of them looked like latent sexpots to me but then they say that you can't judge books by covers. They were pleas ant and frank enough, heaven knows, but somehow I couldn't quite picture that little society type matron giving me head.
The next couple seemed a little bit more the type I might have expected. They freely admitted that theirs had been a marriage of family and business convenience when they had been quite young. She had gotten pregnant almost immediately and their only son had been lulled in a private plane crash a few months ago. They had never really been in love, but even a friendly separation or divorce now would be financially disastrous. They both felt a passionate desire to "swing" but they did not travel in that kind of a social group. The ad for this cruise had seemed to provide the perfect foil for their inner sex drives. He looked like a two-faced phony and a bit of a snob. She did most of the talking and I got the impression that it was her family that had the money. She had a full, soft body that looked comfortable and a little fire in her eyes led me to believe that, sexually, she was a dormant volcano. I had the feeling that this broad could be a real tiger between the sheets. I looked forward to the opportunity to check out my first impressions of her.
The final couple was the oldest of the group, in years but surely not in spirit. They frankly be moaned the fact that they had been born twenty five years too soon to enjoy the freedom of the so-called "sexual revolution." They had worked hard and amassed quite a bit of money. Just once, before their bodies got too old to execute the plans of their youthful minds, they wanted to go out and kick up their heels and accumulate memories to nurture them through their autumn years. Margaret and I felt an immediate compassion for this couple. In a way we had a lot in common. I was embarking on a last fling before starting our marriage; they were kicking up their heels for a final time before the end of their sex lives.
We were invited to return the following Sun day at seven, by which time more potential passengers would have been recruited and checked out. After saying good night to our new, nameless friends, we grabbed a cab to Margaret's apartment. Although I hadn't planned it, I found myself going up to spend the night with her.
By the time we turned down the covers and crawled into bed, it was pitch-black dark. I started playing with her tits and sucking and chewing on them, even though I knew that this always annoyed her. For some reason Margaret didn't like to have her boobs played with. I was about half drunk by now and wasn't thinking of Margaret. I was thinking of Martha Marlowe.
When I crawled over on top of her and found my way into the silken slit of her sex, it was still the image of the lovely Martha that was on my drunken mind as I wormed my cock deeper and deeper into my fiancee's soft, moist cunt. I could still picture those big tits of Martha's as they struggled against the thin fabric of her dress and the glorious buttocks rolling as she walked away from me. I drove my prick deeper and deeper into the substitute woman beneath me and dreamed of the day that the wondrous sex cruise would disembark.
When, at last, my hot juices burst forth into her soft, wet interior, I rolled over and fell into a deep sleep, filled with images of Martha and the orgasm-oriented blonde and the married women who were to be my playmates on the floating orgy that loomed only weeks away.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next Sunday and those that followed, became a torturously prolonged rehearsal to a long awaited performance. Slowly the cast was assembled. Dr. Evans was adamant on the subject that there must be no preliminary sexual hanky-panky among the members of his passenger list. As the bevy of beautiful females who were to be my traveling and bed companions grew, it became harder and harder to adhere to the rules of the game that he had established. Once or twice Margaret came dangerously close to chickening out when she saw the group of lovelies into which she was delivering her man. By early June I had obtained my passport and my fare had been paid in full.
On the final Sunday session before we were to leave, we all assembled for the last time in the big, modern salon. I caught Margaret peering around nervously at the fifteen attractive females, all of whom I would have possessed sexually before our upcoming wedding. While we had all been given generalized itineraries as to when we would be in what ports, so that we could receive our mail and emergency messages, the basic rules of procedure had not yet been outlined to us. Naturally, we were all pretty curious about the modus operandi which we were to follow in this game of a lifetime. The hubbub of nervous conversation ceased instantly and a funereal hush fell like a blanket over the large group as Dr. Evans arose and cleared his throat.
"My dear friends, it appears that the long period of anxiety and patience draws to an end. Within forty-eight hours, we shall jointly embark on what I am sure I can promise each and every one of you will be one of the most memorable experiences of a lifetime. For you, the period of fun and revelry begins. For Miss Marlowe and I, the hard work starts.
"Those of you who are present here tonight have been chosen because you are, in one way or another, typical of the various segments of our so-called modern society. It has been said that modern man and woman envies the freedom of the pagan society of the ancients, in which the uninhibited pursuit of the purely sensuous de lights of free sex were allowed to run rampant, unrestricted by social conventions. Many young people extol the merits of the wild and wanton sex orgies of the Romans of Caesar's day. Certain purportedly progressive groups, openly advocated free sex, try to elevate the orgy to a position of renewed social acceptance. A few militant segments of this new breed have tried to force their views upon the public in general and upon college campuses in particular.
"Several months ago a research grant was established by a combine of major universities to study the reactions of a typical cross-section of the American public to a complete relaxation of the socio-sexual laws and standards by which society regulates its conduct. I was selected, aided by my associate, Dr. Martha Marlowe, to con duct that study. Those of you who have been selected to go on this trip constitute that cross section of the public. Welcome aboard, social pilgrims!
"I beg of you, do not feel that you have been duped or that any misleading statements have been made to attract you. Announced clinical and scientific surveys attract a certain type of individual who is not fairly representative of the whole community. It was, therefore, deemed advisable to dangle the type of bait that would attract the average man and woman, such as yourselves. Rest assured that everything you have been promised on this trip will be provided ... and then some. Please take my word that you will not be spied upon or observed in action like so many white mice in a laboratory experiment.
"Like any important undertaking, we must establish certain ground rules. You have my word that we will abide by ours and I impress upon you that the success of the entire project depends upon your abiding by yours.
"First, let me say that we are interested only in your emotional, moral and social reactions to the various situations in which we will place you. You will each have a very brief interview every day with either Dr. Marlowe or myself. Questions will be minimal and names will not appear on the questionnaires. Our interest is only in the realm of sex for sex-sake alone. Any shipboard romances, emotional entanglements, or personal jealousies would negate our results. Therefore, selection of partners must be our sole prerogative. Dr. Marlowe will now explain how this will be handled."
Martha still looked mighty good to me when she stood up in front of all these people. I didn't give a damn if she was a doctor or a high priestess, I intended to get a little of that before this trip was over.
"Thank you, Dr. Evans. First, I have good news for you. Our itinerary has been extended from thirty to thirty-four days at no extra cost. Speaking of cost, I want to explain that the three thousand dollars fare each of you has paid covers only about half of your costs. We pay the other half. It was necessary that we set some sort of reasonable figure for fare. You can imagine what would have happened if we had advertised free sex! If the fare had been too low, we would have been besieged by the hippies and I doubt that they form a reasonable cross-section."
Her remarks were greeted by a few laughs and reserved applause. Everyone seemed considerably relaxed as the beautiful woman continued. "As you are aware, we have a passenger list of fifteen women and fifteen men. Aside from the public ... or orgy ... nights we can figure that each of you will have the opportunity to spend two nights with each member of the opposite sex aboard. Each of the women will be assigned to a private stateroom which she will occupy for the duration of the cruise. Every afternoon, at cocktails, each man will be given a sealed envelope telling him which of these staterooms to go for that night. There are to be no deviations from the assigned schedules."
Everyone seemed to go along with the simple rules so the formal portion of the meeting came to an end. We would all meet aboard the boat Tuesday at five-thirty. Most of the group hung around to drink and visit but Margaret seemed anxious to drag me away. Back at the apartment she made me a drink and gave me a real funny look. Her next words really came as a surprise to me.
"Oh, Bob, forgive me. I had no idea it would be anything like that. Why, I feel as though I'd sold you to the Turks."
"What in hell are you talking about now?" I asked, genuinely bewildered.
"Why, darling, I had visualized all sorts of moonlight romances and necking parties. Hell, they made it all sound about as romantic as a floating whorehouse where they spin a roulette wheel to select the partners for musical beds. I hope you won't feel too let down by it all."
She was close to tears again. I wondered if what she really wanted was for me to back out of the whole deal. After that, no amount of light conversation seemed to get her out of her mood. Finally she gave up and started to cry. Nothing I said seemed to help.
In four years with Margaret I have only found one way to handle a sobbing redhead. I pushed her back on the couch, turned up her skirt, yanked off her panties and then, unzipping my fly, I pulled out my prick and buried it in that mass of bright red cunthair. She wasn't as juicy as usual tonight so I went down and sucked her little box until it got very moist and hot indeed. Then I pulled up and rammed my cock into that hole like a desperate Dutch boy plugging his thumb in the leaking dike. I fucked away her tears and turned them all to smiles. Three more times that night she started sobbing and I gave her the same treatment. I suspect that she was faking it the last two times, though. Just the tears, I mean.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Tuesday arrived, Margaret and I both took off from work at noon. Everyone knew that I was going on a one-month leave of absence for educational purposes. Thank God that was all the details they asked for. We went to our favorite restaurant ... the one we save for celebrations and special occasions. We had more than our usual quota of drinks before lunch. The food seemed better than ever and Margaret had never looked more radiant. It was after three when I paid the check and we got a cab to my place. I had expected that she would want to come down and go aboard the yacht, but she steadfastly refused.
"I couldn't bear to go back down the gang plank and leave you on board with all those ... those ... cunts!" she sobbed.
I tried to make love to her but she would have no part of it. She was very adamant about it when she announced that the next time I made love to her we would be man and wife. Then she insisted that I go along alone. She wanted to stay there in my apartment for a few days. I knew that it would be pointless to argue with her. As I kissed her good-bye she pressed a small package into my hand explaining that it was a bon voyage gift but that I mustn't open it until I was well out at sea. I put it in my side coat pocket and hopped downstairs to hail a cab before I changed my mind about going at all.
The yacht was much larger and more beautiful that I had imagined. It was all decked out with flags and pennants and a general air of gaiety and excitement seemed to surround it. A lot or the passengers were already on board and a number of sightseers stood on the pier taking pictures of the big private boat. I wondered what they would think if they knew the purpose of the cruise.
Martha Marlowe greeted me at the head of the gangplank. I realized that I had never seen her in the daylight before. She looked more regal and statuesque than ever. She had gone very nautical for the occasion with a white skirt and a double-breasted blue flannel jacket whose brass buttons were hard pressed to hold back those mammoth tits that seemed always to be fighting for their freedom.
She greeted me warmly, if somewhat unprofessionally and after explaining that Dr. Evans was ashore on some last-minute arrangements, offered to show me around my floating home for the next month. When I asked what I should do with my suitcase, she gave me a little wink and led me to a large cabin in which several cases bearing the initials M.M. were already stowed.
"I didn't know that Marilyn Monroe was to be among us," I quipped.
"They also stand for Martha Marlowe, if you don't mind." She moved over close to me as she spoke. I don't think we either of us planned it. We just seemed to float into each other's arms. Suddenly her luscious lips were on mine while those huge tits pressed so hard to me that they threatened to collapse my ribcage. I wondered if she could feel my prick as it grew and hardened inside my pants.
She pressed her lips to my ear and whispered desperately, "Oh, Bob, please don't tell on me. I just couldn't help it. At least it all seemed so unfair. After all my talk Sunday about playing by the rules and all that stuff. This morning I was setting up the cards to assign men to women for the first night out. You came up with that skinny blonde that claims she can't come and I drew old fuzzy nuts whose wife swings but I doubt that he can even rock. I just couldn't bear for things to get off on a bad start that way, so I simply made a little mistake and put the cards in the wrong envelopes. Try not to be too disappointed when you draw me for a roommate tonight. I promise to keep it interesting but I doubt that you'll get any sleep. I have some very special plans in mind for us."
Once she had made her confession, she dragged me out of that stateroom like we were in the bank just before the vault was scheduled to blow. She took me on the grand tour now. Occasionally, in the narrow passageways, she'd rub those tits up against my arm and nearly drive me out of my skull. Later, going up a steep companionway, she almost lost her footing. I was behind her and grabbed her by those beautiful buttocks to steady her. My grip may have steadied her but it almost completely unglued me. I gave those twin beauties a little extra, unnecessary squeeze before releasing her to proceed to the upper deck.
By seven o'clock the last of the passengers was safely aboard. Some of the broads looked even better than I had remembered them. Perhaps it was because I wasn't inhibited now by Margaret's presence. I checked each one's figure and vital statistics frankly and openly now. After all their secrets wouldn't stay secrets for long. I had a hunch that I was really going to dig this nautical nooky game.
There was much toasting with champagne. Dr. Evans finally came aboard and went into a whispered conference with the captain. Then he made a brief announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would not for the world be inhospitable to our guests who have come aboard to wish us bon voyage, but, as you can see, it is a very hot night. The captain explained to me that our air conditioning will not work unless the turbines are running and this means we must be under way. Under the circumstances I beg your leave to sound the all-ashore bell in twenty minutes."
There were a few grumbles but most of the guests were gracious. As for me I didn't give a damn whether we went to sea or stayed tied up to the pier just so I got that Martha Marlowe between the sheets as soon as possible. You know it's funny but a beautiful woman that you've never had never looks better than when she's in a crowd of people and you watch them watching her and know that in a matter of hours you will have her alone.
The crew finally herded all of the guests ashore. The gangplank was raised and the hawsers thrown loose. Suddenly it started raining that ribbon confetti that is so much a part of every sailing. The deck shuddered and began to vibrate beneath my feet as the two large turbines started. With a blasting of whistles and the screaming of dozens of final farewell messages, we ground into motion and backed slowly out into the main channel. The great adventure had begun. The greatest floating orgy since Nero's barge sunk had begun ... and I was a part of it.
I looked around for Martha but she had disappeared somewhere with Dr. Evans. I ambled over to the rail and puffed on a cigarette as I watched the familiar landmarks shrink away in the distance. The captain was heading for the open sea with both turbines full ahead. He obviously wanted to get beyond the outer channel before the tide started coming in. This was some ship. We must have been doing better than twenty knots. Just as I was estimating how far out we were by now, I became aware that someone had joined me. It was the willowy blonde orgasm seeker. She might be interesting later on, but there was no ignoring the fact that she was a titless wonder. I thought of how different a start it would have been to spend the first night with her. I silently blessed the devious and well-endowed Martha. There was nothing like getting off to a strong start ... and that looked about as strong as I could handle.
The heavy churning of the fully revved-up turbines and the slapping of the waves in this top speed condition had driven most of my fellow passengers to their cabins, or at least to seats. Roaming forward into the main salon, I spotted Martha handing Dr. Evans the stack of envelopes which contained the secret pairing off for the first night out. She saw me enter and threw me a surreptitious little wink. I felt like an actor with advance information that, when the magic envelopes were opened, he would win the golden Oscar.
We had obviously reached the open water. I felt the powerful turbines cut back to their normal cruising speed of about one-fourth power. Other passengers wandered into the salon now. I enjoyed studying their faces. Most of the women looked nervous but anxious, while their men looked as frightened as a person who had just rung the doorbell at the local eat house.
A steward roamed through, striking a little set of hand chimes with a padded mallet and announcing that the dining salon would open in thirty minutes. Dr. Evans had word passed around that, due to the late hour, dinner would be informal tonight. As my eyes devoured Martha's curves, I determined that it couldn't be any too informal to suit me.
The dining salon had obviously been rear ranged for this cruise. The tables had been pulled into a square horseshoe like at a banquet. There was more champagne at first and then the captain was introduced. He suggested that every one eat a hearty meal to minimize the danger of seasickness. He went along with my own theory that a full belly leaves no room for anything to regurgitate. Personally, after a hitch in the Navy, I wasn't concerned with seasickness. I did however intend to put away a hearty meal to build up my strength for the rigorous exercises I had in mind for later on tonight. I had a hard time tearing my eyes off the buxom Martha, but when I could manage it I began a more careful appraisal of the other fourteen women with whom I would become most intimately acquainted during the next month. There really wasn't a pig in the lot. Each, in her own way, seemed to indicate an immense capacity for sex. Even the older girls were exciting. I might pick up a few new tricks from their wealth of experience.
After dessert and coffee, Dr. Evans suggested that the women retire to their staterooms and prepare to receive their surprise mate for the first night out. The girls weren't overly anxious because it took them almost fifteen seconds to vacate the salon. Once they had left us men alone, the steward served brandy and cigars; both of which I declined and Dr. Evans distributed the magical envelopes. Most of the guys ripped them open like they were looking for an overdue relief check. When he handed me mine, I slipped it, unopened, into my inner jacket pocket.
"Why, really, Mr. Robinson, aren't you interested in our little game or have you no curiosity in your nature?" he asked.
"On the contrary, sir, I am as curious and anxious as anyone, but in surveying the women assembled here tonight I figure I have a winner no matter what cabin I happen to draw. Perhaps I just want to prolong the agony of not knowing until I can open it in private. I still think of sex as a rather private matter." My tone seemed to satisfy him. I am sure that he had no suspicions that I already knew what I would find inside the envelope.
Within two minutes the fourteen reserved gentlemen around the large table had been reduced to a stampeding herd of wild young bulls. I sat quietly as they poured out. Soon the good doctor and I were alone at the cluttered table. He indicated my brandy. I took a sip and he raised his glass in a silent toast. I was inwardly content. When you know you are holding a big ticket on the winning daily-double longshot, you don't have to rush to the payoff window.
"You know, Bob, I think you're going through pangs of guilt over Margaret. She's quite a woman but remember, my boy, she wants you to have this experience. If you shoot square with her, what you get during the next thirty days will last you for a lifetime. I think you're afraid to open the envelope. Would you like for me to do it for you-" He said all this in that real kind, friend of the family since you were born, voice. He really was a great guy.
I had wondered from the beginning if Martha was his mistress as well as his secretary and assistant. This was my chance to find out. As much as I wanted her I didn't want to hurt this good man. I took the sealed envelope from my pocket and slid it across the table to him. He placed his cigar carefully in the ashtray and opened it with great flourish. When he slid out the card, his face burst into a broad and sincere smile, as he said, "My dear boy, you are a lucky man indeed. You drew my beloved little helpmate, Martha. I almost envy you. I'll let you in on a little secret. The thing that makes me a good sexologist is that I have a good memory. My own sex life is all behind me now ... has been ever since Mrs. Evans died four years ago. If I were a younger or more virile man, I'd- happily Indian wrestle you for that card. Martha is a fine girl. So is your Margaret. I think she would be happy to know that you drew my dear little Martha." His tone was as sincere as his words. They managed to dispel all of the crazy guilt feelings with which my conscience had been wrestling.
It's hard to figure what to say at a time like this. I got up quietly, placed my hand over his and squeezed gently. "Good night, Doctor. Pleasant dreams and by the way, thank you very much." That seemed to say it all, so I left and made my way to Martha's cabin.
CHAPTER SIX
When I stepped over into the luxurious ship's cabin, the Martha Marlowe my eyes beheld was a totally different woman than the one I had met in Dr. Evan's fancy offices. The huge mass of jet black hair that was generally done up so neatly on top of her regal head was down now. It was so long that she could have sat on it. She was in front of the mirror, brushing the full length of it ever so gently. She was so intent on her brushing that she was not immediately aware of my presence. To me there has never been a sexier sight than that of a woman brushing hip length hair.
When she finally realized that I had entered, she put down her brush and arose to greet me. That long hair made her look like Lady Godiva dismounting from her horse as she stood and approached me. She was wearing one of those near-transparent nylon robes. The huge tits greeted me like a pair of fat pigeons proudly pro claiming that they had finally escaped their cage. Fifteen inches beneath these proud beauties an ample triangle of the same jet black hair fenced the gates to her inner womanhood. When she moved close enough to embrace me, I was sucked to her body like it was a beautiful mass of sexy quicksand. Her full, soft lips sought mine and I melted into them as we kissed in a way that blot ted out the rest of the world and universe. My tongue penetrated the ruby lips and passed between the pearly teeth whose first sight had so aroused my lower sensitivities. I felt her huge soft tits flatten against my chest as my hands hastened to explore the delights of her lovely anatomy.
"Why don't you get comfortable, darling," she purred into my ear. "It's a long night we have ahead of us, but I don't want to waste a precious moment of it."
I was wearing the most expensive suit I had ever owned, but now I ripped it off and tossed it aside like discarded work clothes. Soon I was totally naked and then I took her into my arms again as my nervous hands fumbled to open her gossamer-thin robe. At long last I felt the satiny white smoothness of those great breasts press against the hairy hardness of my tight chest. Down below, the rapidly growing hardness of my stiff prick arose to charge through that black forest to seek out the lair of the red queen. Just as the tip of my turgid charger had battered through the bastions of her outer defenses and embedded itself in the moist area of the inner gates to her pleasure palace, she pressed me firmly away from her.
"No, Bob, not that way ... not now. I've waited too long for this moment to settle for fast firsts. My starving snatch has the patience now to wait for slow seconds. Will you bear with me, my dear, just this once, please?"
As she held me back at arm's length, she sank to her knees on the floor in front of me. Those tender hands that had been pushing, now clasped my tight buttocks and urged my swollen cock closer and closer to those luscious lips. When just the tip of it made contact with the ruby beauties, coated as it was with the clear fluid of my precoital juices of excitement, she extended a warm, moist tongue to caress the swollen mauve velvet of my throbbing knob. The precious soft wetness of that tantalizing tongue swabbed the decks of my sex submarine and prepared it for full-battle dive.
My fingers ran through those long, raven tresses and pressed that lovely head closer upon my swollen sex. Her full, soft lips parted and the tip of my trembling prick worked its way between them to enter the warm, wet cavity that lay behind the pearly gates of her perfect teeth. I've had a lot of head in my life, but the thrill of feeling my cock press into this beautiful woman's mouth was like a way-out, brand new sensation. It took all of the self-control I could muster to keep from crumbling my cookies right then and there with my first oral penetration of the marvelous Martha.
The vibrations of the throbbing turbines tick led my bare feet as they contacted the trembling deck. It was like being stimulated by the world's largest vibrator. Even my toenails tingled as she urged those soft lips deeper and deeper down the staff of my swollen sex. I could sense that she was not experienced at the so-called French version of the love act. The very amateurishness of her approach seemed to heighten the sensuous delights of her oral entrapment of my throbbing love machine. I wanted to say something but let my fingers in her sweet scalp express my sentiments of the moment in their own version of oral Braille.
A man, far wiser than me, once said, "They cannot last long ... our days of wine and roses." I realized what he had meant now as the wine of her saliva and the rosebud touch of her velvet tongue produced the type emotions which drive men to madness. I reached a peak of my sexual delight and tried to hold it there. It was like some wild, mad roller coaster ride that brings you slowly up to the heights. You want to stay there because you are afraid of the fearsome emotion that lies just over the crest of the slow rise. Then, beyond your control, the peak has passed and you plunge uncontrollably downward in a dizzying fall that threatens to blow your mind, emotions and heart in one huge burst, leaving you drained of everything inside.
Despite my best efforts to apply the emotional brakes to the mad roller coaster ride that her mouth was taking me on, I plummeted over the peak of the rise and nearly fainted in the emotions of free fall as I blew forth every final drop of my emotional stability into that all demanding, all consuming mouth of hers. My destruction had been rapid and complete. One moment I had been the huge proud master, like the giant airship Hindenburg, the next I was reduced to a smoldering heap, all in one instantly convulsive exhalation of every iota of strength and energy. So completely did she drain my strength and manhood that I had to muster all of my physical efforts to remain erect before her. I do not believe that she had ever before taken a man's full outpouring of sex into her mouth. When it happened I watched her eyes swell in surprise as she struggled to swallow and contain all of the semen I had delivered up unto her irresistible demands. She stayed on it though until it was deflated. She seemed almost reluctant to release the spent staff from her oral imprisonment of it.
She smiled up at me and those lovely teeth, even now, had the same effect upon me. "Well, I must say that for a fast first, that was quite a blast. If that's any indication of what I can expect from your slow second, I have a wonderful night ahead of me. You know, I have never taken a man's semen in my mouth before. I'll admit now that I was a little afraid of it. I must say that you are delicious. It sure doesn't taste like little boys are made of 'worms and snails and puppy dog tails.' You taste more like whipped egg whites and almonds. I'm afraid I could very easily get hooked on the flavor of you."
She pushed me gently back from where she knelt and then undid the snaps on her robe and let it drop from her shoulders. Then she struggled upward to a standing position, looking like Venus emerging from the half shell of mythology. Standing, fully nude, just two feet from me, I accepted the unspoken invitation to closely examine her charms. Her face looked softer and younger now, with her hair down. Beneath this, the huge breasts that had enflamed my desires from the moment I first saw her jutted out toward me in a perfection that was almost unreal. Ever since I became aware of them, I have been a devoted "tit man." It is the first thing I check on a woman. Heaven knows, my own dear Margaret is no slouch in that department. Even so, I have never seen such a superb pair of perfect chest mounds as now revealed themselves to my excited and delighted gaze. I would guess that her measurements must have been at least 42-E and yet they drooped not the slightest. They stood proud and erect, as though demanding the homage that I had every intention of be stowing upon them. The mammoth ivory half globes were tipped with silver dollar-sized aureoles of the most delicate rosebud pink. The delicate nipples in the center of these circles were the size of my pinkie, just back to the rear of the fingernail. They gave promise of swelling and hardening to thumb tip size when property aroused. Any vague doubts I might have had of my appraisal would be dispelled before this night grew much older.
Her little stomach was flat and white, making the huge boobs that topped it appear almost as lovely deformities. Her little navel would have delighted Michelangelo. Beneath it, the fully swollen Venus mound was covered with a natural merkin of thick, soft raven hair that plunged down between her soft thighs. The mere sight of it made me want to bury my face there to happily suffocate in that furry ferrule.
She sensed my close inspection and even seemed to enjoy the feel of my eyes on the secret beauty spots of her superbly formed body. She turned around very slowly and bent over, as though to retrieve an imaginary dropped earring, treating me to the most intimate views of the fully rounded cheeks of her gorgeous ass and the little secret area between them. Everything about this creature was sheer beauty.
Her cabin had been the bedroom of the owner's master suite. Dr. Evans was using the sitting room cabin of this suite for his cruise headquarters. Because of this she had a large double bed, rather than the wall bunks in most of the other cabins I'd peeked into. She moved over now and sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off the fluffy furred bedroom shoes that women, for some idiotic reason, call "mules." Even her feet were beautiful.
I moved over and sat beside her. Those full ripe lips that had just finished thrilling ma so welded themselves now to mine and our tongues did little expeditions into each other's mouth. My hand caressed and squeezed those wondrous tits and then hefted them, one at a time, as though trying to estimate their weight. They had to be a least five pounders ... a real watermelon rose, I had here.
As we kissed and I rubbed those beauties, we rolled back onto the mattress. Her breathing was becoming hard now and her breath was hot as she expelled it into my mouth as my lips glued to hers. The huge tits began to heave under my caresses and I felt her squirm a bit down below. I knew that she was getting as hot as a fire cracker but she had just drained me so beautifully that I would be able to do nothing for her for a time yet. Right now, even that "fast first" that she had so disdainfully scorned would have felt pretty good to that pulsating pussy of hers.
As reluctant as my free hand was to leave those luscious boobs, I lowered it across the smooth flat tummy and into the hairy triangle at its base. The hair was soft and smooth, like a silken tassel. At my slight touch, she pressed her mound up to meet my hand. As I returned the pressure, my middle finger slid into her sweetly moist vulva, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The feel of the damp warmth of her very insides around my finger thrilled me to the skies. If this sent me, what would it be like when I got my prick in there? What a woman she was!
She began moving her little clitoris up and down against my embedded finger. I felt that she was deserving of more than just a finger fuck after her lovely oral attentions to my own needs. For the first time in over five minutes I broke contact with her sweet lips. I tenderly kissed her fluttering eyelids and playfully darted the tip of my tongue into first one nostril, then the other. She wrinkled up her nose like a bunny rabbit as the sensation tickled her. I kissed her throat and across her shoulders to her armpits. Now I covered every square inch of those acres and acres of tits with my kisses. I remembered that I had dreamed of doing this as I tried to kiss Margaret's breasts, against her will, while I thought of Martha at the end of the very night we had first met. Now I didn't have to close my eyes and pretend. It was really her and really real.
I spiraled my way up to the sweet summits of those mammoth mounds like the highway up Pike's Peak. When I achieved the very pinnacle of my heavenly ascent, I flicked my tongue around those sweet pink nipples for long moments before drawing one into my mouth and sucking, licking and gently chewing on it as it grew to twice its size and hardness. I made sure to give each the same degree of attention until they both stood proudly erect like a matched pair of pink thimbles. Only then did I continue my southward journey toward the valley of the velvet vulva. When my mouth had explored her cute little navel and lip tickled the twin erogenous zones at the sides of her lower tummy where the edges turn from stomach into loins, I lowered myself to a sitting position on the deck.
"Bob, dear, you don't have to do that to me, just because I did it to you." Her voice was husky with passion now.
"Like hell I don't have to! I couldn't stop now if my life depended on it." As I spoke I ran the palms of my hands up between her thighs.
She didn't wait for any further convincing arguments. She opened her legs and raised them up over my shoulders as I buried my face in that milky moist muff. Oh, the sweetness of that cunt of hers! It had the intoxicating fragrance of blooming lily pads in the tropic moonlight. For long moments I held still with my lips pressed to her vaginal counterparts and just breathed in the glorious heady aroma of her wondrous womanhood. The very thought of my being in this most intimate contact with her dark secret area thrilled me to my very soul.
She was delightfully moist with a thin mist of angel tears warmed in moonbeams. My tongue carefully extracted every tiniest seed pearl of this precious nectar before diving deeper into the rosy satin sheath in search of the larger, heavier, pearls stored in the very depths of her treasure trove.
She pressed that sweet snatch so tightly to my mouth now that I could hardly breathe. Her demands for orgasmic relief of her long-stored passions were becoming desperate now. I tongued her vulva in long strokes from tip to base of the sweet slit as she ground into my face and moaned passionately. I looked up through the delicate grove of soft black cunthair to see the mammoth mammaries heaving like a pair of bellows. I rose above the north end of her vaginal valley and entered the temple of the queen of sex. Slowly and reverently I approached the throne of her clitoris and delicately kissed the crown of her womanhood that rested upon it. At this she went into a wild frenzy of passionate abandon. We bucked and ground together mouth to cunt, cunt to mouth as she clutched the back of my head and seemed to be trying to force my whole head into her inflamed hole. I sucked the swollen clitoris into my mouth now and nibbled gently with my lips as I stroked it with my tongue.
A loud sobbing moan, like that of a bird speared in flight, escaped her lips and fluttered around the cabin like a trapped butterfly as she went through the contortions of an orgasm of the mammoth proportions of her heroic breasts. She shuddered and trembled for over a minute as she kept my willing face pressed tight to her sweetly flowing cunt. I licked and sucked in all that I could of those sweet liqueurs delicately distilled in the very deepest inner reaches of a woman's love. Even after she released my head and fell back from my oral onslaught, I continued to seek out every final dreg of her sex nectars. Finally con tent that I had drained the well dry, I arose and crawled up next to her.
Poets say that a woman is at the height of her beauty when she is in love. The nude goddess beside me now had never looked lovelier. It must follow the poets' logic that woman achieves the very pinnacle of aesthetic attractiveness during the period of sweet relief following cunnilingus.
She took me in her arms and pulled me close. Her nipples were still like thimbles as her lips sought mine. She was sobbing softly as she snuggled her body close to mine and kissed me deeply and sweetly. Her tongue seemed to be searching for a trace of the flavor of her cunt still in my mouth.
"Oh, Bob, my dear, dear Bob. That was like heaven. I've never let a man do it to me before ... at least, not all the way. I loved having you go down on me. I hope it was that good when I did it to you."
I assured her that it had been. How could anything possibly be other than perfect with this fabulous female?
As if on a sudden inspiration, she asked me if I had a robe in my luggage. I said that I had and hastened to extract it. Meanwhile she produced a pure white terrycloth velour robe for herself that set off the raven hair and now slightly pinkish complexion beautifully. When we were both suitably robed, we left the cabin and ambled aft to the main salon. She slipped behind a small bar and emerged moments later with a double martini that was sheer perfection for me and a glass of light rose wine for herself. We took our drinks out to the fantail lounge and snuggled close together on one of the large chaises. The moonlight danced across the smooth waters and seemed to provide a perfect accompaniment to the soft purring of the turbines below decks.
No one else was up and about, although I seriously doubted that any of our fellow passengers were sleeping. We were alone in the moon light and to all intents and purposes this fantastic yacht might have been our very own. Oh, for the life of the idle rich. Even a Vanderbilt honeymooning with a movie queen never had it this good. I slipped my hands inside her robe as though to check on those great tits and make sure they hadn't gone away. Everything seemed to be there safe and sound. The nipples had gone down a little by now, but I had a feeling they wouldn't stay down for long. Come to think of it, I couldn't either. Just the touch of my hand on those lovely breasts had a definite arousal value on my re-awakening manhood. I felt it twitch and grow a little. To make sure it wasn't just my imagination, I slid my hand down and cupped that black-haired mound of her sex. Sure enough there was another twitch and he grew a bit more.
I drained my martini and placed the glass in the gimbal-rack provided for that purpose near each deck lounge. I signaled her to kill the wine. Then I got up and offered her my hands to assist her to her feet.
"Where are we going? It's so nice and comfortable out here."
"A little man just informed me that the time has come for the 'slow seconds' you mentioned earlier," I explained.
"What are we waiting for? I can't stand it out here on deck another instant," she teased, practically dragging me back through the salon to the privacy of her cabin.
Once inside, we loosened each other's robe and our eager bodies practically fused together into one. Those wonderful tits cushioned my chest like two down-filled pillows. She ground that hairy muff up against my now rapidly growing cock as I slid my hands behind her and cupped those beautiful cheeks of her ass and pulled her even closer to it. He was fighting his way through the dense brush now eager to drown his mounting fever in her well. I could feel the swollen, throbbing head of it trembling and quivering against that furry triangle that she shoved up to me.
We both wanted to go to bed, but were reluctant to break the delightful body contact we had established. As though by some wild pre-arranged plan we crawfished our way toward the bed, still pressed as tightly together as pages in a book. When, like Siamese twins, we reached the edge of the bed we collapsed upon the mattress in a wild heap. We clutched and grabbed at each other desperately now in our urgent need for a union of our sexes.
At last I was able to urge her over flat onto the mattress as I mounted her supine body. Her legs parted without assistance and my knees fell between them as the tip of my turgid cock found its own way through the black forest and into the pink valley of her femininity. The lips of her cunt seemed to suck him inside and with no direction from our hands he found his target and began penetrating it inch by delightful inch. The hot moisture of her interior, which had thrilled my finger, charmed and enthralled the skin and nerves of my swollen prick as it worked its way deeper and deeper into her very insides.
My hungry cockhead had never really been inside of any cunt other than Margaret's. While it found no fault with that familiar home ground, this felt even more exotically thrilling. Perhaps it was because this was new and previously unexplored territory, but it was indescribably different from anything I had known before. I wanted to penetrate this beautiful raven-haired cunt to the very core and dwell inside it forever.
She must have shared every emotion which swept through me because she thrust that sweet black-fringed box up to meet my every stroke until, at precious last, I was indeed in her to the very hilt. Oh God, the sweetness and softness of the inside of this beautiful woman was almost too much.
The sweetness of her warm, moist caress that surrounded my swollen, embedded love probe was so ecstatically thrilling that I would have been content to remain here, stroking in and out, forever, with no thought of ever coming to a climax as a result of the heavenly union. The feelings that simply being in her produced were so superbly thrilling that any thought of orgasming in that tender tunnel seemed almost anti climactic.
I managed to exercise sufficient self-control and restraint to make it last for nearly twenty minutes. She came twice during the prolonged insertion. They were shuddering, gasping moments of heaven for her, during which she bit my lip to where it drew blood and dug her nails into my buttocks which she clutched desperately. After each of her climaxes had passed, she would become sweetly passive, laying there quietly and submissively, allowing me to set the pace and use her cunt as best suited my immediate purposes. Slowly then, my probing prick was able to stir up the embers of her burned-out passions and fan them to flame again until they would build into another raging inferno of pure raw animal sex. My docile little sex kitten developed quickly into a snarling, aroused tigress. When she reached this plateau of passion, she would ram that seething cunt up hard onto the prick which held it impaled as though to demand just one mille meter more of the depth of the delicious stabbing wound. What started as a slow, sweet gentle intercourse, like a canoe drifting over placid waters by moonlight, soon ran into raging rap ids and the struggle to maintain control became harder and harder. I was exerting every iota of my strength now. I could almost hear, as well as feel, the thunderous roar of her flooding emotions. I knew that we were reaching the brink of our storm-tossed emotional voyage together. My efforts to fight it off were all exhausted. I abandoned the battle against the elements which had swept us away. She felt it too. Locked in the closest embrace that man and woman can achieve, we rushed through the bubbling waters just short of the brink and hurtled over the edge of love's waterfall together.
The flood of bubbling liquids was inside us now. I poured forth an almost endless flow into the very depths of her boiling cauldron cunt. It was like the mighty waters of Niagara pounding ceaselessly into the hollows of the Cave of the Winds at their base.
The ferocity of our emotional storm left us completely inert as we lay, deflated in happy exhaustion, in each other's arms. For long minutes we were too completely spent to even talk. I knew that I was heavy upon her, but, when I made an effort to move, she clutched me all the tighter.
"Don't take him away from me, Bob. Not yet, please. I've wanted to feel him inside me for so long. Ever since that first night you came to Dr. Evans' office."
"I know. I've wanted to be right in there ever since that night too." I started to tell her how I had taken Margaret home that night and fucked her, pretending that she was Martha. I decided that this was not the time for that confession. Women, I have found, take a dim view of a man talking about screwing another woman while his cock is deeply embedded in the listener's cunt.
My prick was shrinking rapidly now inside that flooded love hole, so filled with the mixed juices of our passionate feelings for one another. Soon, despite our mutual efforts, it slipped out and the long period of our first true intercourse came to an end.
I wanted to fuck her all night long but, unfortunately, the body is subject to limitations which the mind refuses to consider. The churning of the turbines and screws turned the bed into one of those vibrating massage mattresses. This, coupled with the gentle rocking motion of the cruising yacht, lulled us both off to sleep, despite our grandiose plans for this long-awaited night together.
Dawn comes earlier on the open sea than it does on land since there is nothing between you and the horizon to shield the rays of the rising sun. The pink light filtering through the small porthole and dancing on the overhead awakened me early. I glanced at my watch. It was just five-thirty. As always, I had my morning hard on. It would surely not go to waste this day.
Raising up on one elbow, I feasted my eyes on the lovely naked creature beside me. The huge breasts rose and fell like the swelling of the sea, as she breathed deeply in her sleep. The long jet black hair hung down framing and caressing those beautiful tits. I pushed the soft strands of hair aside, replacing its caresses with those of my hand. The little nipples twitched responsively as I grazed my touch lightly across them. I bent down and flicked them lightly with my tongue, while my hand stole down to that lovely patch of raven black pubic hair. The silken strands were pressed nearly flat and I fluffed them up with my fingers. Here and there was a matted area held tangled by traces of dried se men that she had allowed to escape from her overflowing cunt as she slept. My finger slid easily into the well-oiled channel. I let it get well coated with the sweet slime of sex, then slipped it out to gently massage her sensitive clitoris. My first touch of that little panic button began to awaken her and she thrust that mound of wet cunt up to meet my massage. Her hand reached over, seeking my sex. When she felt it hot, hard and ready, she came instantly awake.
I started to climb over onto her but she forced me back flat onto the mattress, explaining, "No, darling. I want to get on top this morning. You just lay back and relax and let Martha do the fucking. I want to slide up and down that stiff staff of yours and do all the work while you relax. Please let me do it that way. I've always wanted to see what it would feel like to be the dominant male setting the pace. Do you mind terribly?"
I could not bring myself to deny her request ... but then, like I say, I'm all heart when it comes to things like this.
She straddled my prone body then and guided the juicy lips of that creamy cunt onto the head of my swollen prick. They slipped over the purple glands and enveloped it in moist tenderness almost as though she were giving me head. Once the initial penetration had been made, she lowered that sweet slit inch by inch onto my erect and feverish cock. The soft sweetness of the walls of her vulva massaged it like a damp velvet glove as she made the torturously slow descent until she had swallowed it completely into that hot, wet snatch. As she lowered her body the final inch to where our pubic hairs intertwined, I had the feeling that she now possessed me completely. I was thoroughly twat trapped and completely at her mercy. My cock ached for the relief that was promised by that softly moist cunt that now rose and fell back upon it.
She leaned forward now and supported the weight of her torso on her hands which she placed on the mattress on each side of my head. Those wonderful big tits were hanging down directly above my face. I raised my hands and encompassed one of the huge beauties and guided its pink-ringed tip to my eager mouth. I sucked and chewed on that lovely nipple until it swelled and hardened in my mouth as she kept working her cunt up and down the length of my motionless prick. Then I switched over to her other tit and gave it the same tender treatment until its nipple threatened to burst out of its skin. Once I had them both fully erected, I alternated my mouth between them like a windshield wiper. I had a sudden inspiration and found that by pressing the huge orbs close together I could take both of those stiff swollen nipples into my mouth at the same time. I sucked and chewed on those twin tits as she heaved and bucked up and down the length of my cock from balls to glands and back again as she sucked at it with the lips of her cunt. Last night I had tried to hold back. This morning I wondered if I would be able to wait for her. I knew that the moment of truth was rushing upon me and hoped that I would not beat her to the punch.
"Darling, I can't hold off for much more than a few seconds with the treatment you are giving me. Are you about ready? I don't want to cheat you. Can you hurry and come with me?" I gasped the words out breathlessly to her as she hovered above me while that soft sweet cunt traveled up and down my cock like a yo-yo on a string.
"Just a moment more, Bob, please. I've almost got it now," she gasped back. Just as her voice trailed off I felt the clutching contortions as her palpitating pussy grappled with the embedded staff of me and I knew that I was coming with her.
Suddenly the rocket was ignited in the very depths of my balls. It screamed heavenward and burst into a million brilliant lights as the fire shower descended over us and slowly burned away, leaving only the aftereffects of its concussion. Now her spent body collapsed upon mine and I nearly suffocated under the smothering mass of breast flesh that crushed my face. The little muscles inside her juicy cunt kept hugging and squeezing at my deflated prick which was collapsing like a tall brick chimney whose base had been blasted from beneath it.
When we regained enough strength to stir ourselves from the bed, we took an invigorating salt-water shower, followed by a brief fresh water rinse. Even on a yacht like this, fresh water was in short supply. Just before we dressed, I kissed each of her lovely tits and gave her pussy a little smack before she encased these lovelies in a thin one-piece sunsuit that made her body look even greater than in the nude, if that was possible. Just as I was pulling up my own shorts to go on deck, she bent down and enclosed the end of my cock in the tender dampness of her mouth. Her tongue flicked at it in a way that said, "Until later."
CHAPTER SEVEN
About half of the other passengers were up and about when we entered the main salon. Some looked thoroughly happy while others looked equally dejected. We nodded greetings and went into the dining salon where three other couples sat, looking thoroughly drained, at the large horseshoe table. After a hearty breakfast, we went out on deck into the bright sunshine.
A number of passengers were spread out sun bathing on the broad decks. Three of the women were doing so topless, while two others had gone for complete nudity. All five had lovely tits but I scarcely noticed. At the moment I was still a little spoiled. At first I was a trifle shocked at their semi and complete nudity but then, considering the avowed purpose of our voyage, any display of false modesty would have bordered on the ludicrous. I was glad that Martha elected to keep her sunsuit on. I knew that before the cruise was over all of the men aboard would have had her as I had, last night, but for the moment she was all mine and I wanted to cling to that thought for as long as possible.
One at a time the passengers were summoned to Dr. Evans' cabin to go through the agreed brief questioning. I dreaded my turn at this highly personal inquisition. My mouth was dry and my palms moist when the deck steward approached me, a little before noon and said that Dr. Evans requested my presence in his cabin. The good doctor did his best to set me at ease, which was not an easy task at the moment. He explained that, for now, he had only a very few brief questions. He reminded me that the success of the study depended upon complete honesty and candor in the answers. I told him that I understood. Then we proceeded.
"Tell me, Bob, how went your first night with our dear Martha?" He had adopted a clinical, yet sincere attitude.
"Beautifully, sir," I replied with total honesty.
"I assume that you engaged in sex acts together."
"Indeed we did."
"And were these physically and emotionally satisfactory, from your viewpoint?"
"Completely so."
"That's fine, Bob. I am happy for you. There is just one final question and it is the most important. I want you to think carefully before answering. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I understand."
"Fine. Now, tell me, Bob. Having enjoyed her body for a full night, just what are your feelings toward Martha Marlowe?" He fixed me with a steady look that demanded a full and sincere answer. I gave it to him.
"I believe that I am in love with her, Dr. Evans."
"Ah, so? I would have been surprised had you have answered differently. It is entirely normal and proper. As I understand it, your sex life has been limited to your affair with your fianc'e, Margaret, with whom you are deeply in love. Your mind and conscience has, therefore, welded the physical emotion of sex and emotional sensation of sex into one entity. Ergo: sex means love. My dear boy, once you have had other women under your belt ... and I mean no pun by that remark ... you will see that it is possible to enjoy and appreciate one independently of the other. That is all for today. Thank you for your frankness, Bob."
I felt a little shaken and somehow debased as I joined the others back on deck. One by one they went in for their interviews. I wondered how many might express the same reactions. Later we had a buffet lunch on deck. The couples kept coming and going. There were several we never saw at all. Late in the afternoon Martha and I figured we had been in the sun long enough and she led me back to her cabin so that we could dress for cocktails. Four of the couples were engaged in bridge games in the salon, looking a bit sheepish and wan.
Once we were inside the cabin, Martha swung around to face me. She threw herself into my arms and kissed me passionately for a full minute. Then she backed off and demanded, "Un dress me and fuck me, Bob. It may be our last chance for a while. I did a little cheating to get you first. I intend to do still more to get in a few 'Lucky Strike Extras' with you, in spite of the precious schedule."
I didn't wait for a second invitation. The zip per of her suit offered little resistance and she offered even less. Soon it fell around her ankles and that Venus body of hers stood in glistening nudity before me. She unfastened my shorts and they too fell as we flew into each other's arms.
I turned her around and positioned her on her knees on the edge of the large bed. Spreading her legs, I stood between them and used my hand to guide the tip of my now fully erect cock into the fur-framed oval of her sex. I used my hands to spread those lovely cheeks so that nothing obstructed my view as I looked down and watched my stiff rod slowly disappear in that warm moist cleft. The blackness of her hair contrasted with the delicate pink of the tender membranes it surrounded as I drove deeper and deeper into that well of womanhood. There was a double thrill in watching as well as feeling what I was doing to her. She held the trunk of her body horizontal on extended arms as I got into her in what is crudely known as "dog fashion." Soon I had penetrated her to the very hilt. It was wonderful this way. The throbbing, swollen vein along the bottom of my cock was in constant contact with her sensitive little clitoris as I drove in and out of her from tip to balls.
I caught a sudden shift of reflected light out of the corner of my eye and this caused me to look to the left of the bed. I was delighted to discover that the full-length mirror on the door of the clothes locker provided a marvelous view of our action. I was fascinated at the sight of those ponderous tits, hanging like mammoth sausages, as they swung back and forth like twin fleshy pendulums while I drove in and out of her hot wet cunt from behind. My eyes darted back and forth from the mirror to the spread cheeks of her ass as I enjoyed first a wide angle and then a close-up view of the fucking I was bestowing upon this beautiful female.
I tapped her and pointed to the mirror. She turned her head and I could feel from her heightened responses that the sight of our actions thrilled her as much as it did me. Between the mixed sensations of sight and feel, the thunder that was rumbling in my hot balls soon erupted into flashes of lightning and I blew a load into her waiting quim with such force that it would have knocked her flat on her pretty face, had it not been that she came with me and her cunt got a tight grip on my spouting stem that served to support her.
When the flash storm passed, she collapsed onto the bed and I fell right along atop her. We were still in full and complete contact. It had to be a come to end all comes. How in hell could any other woman aboard possibly replace this born sex goddess tonight and all the nights that would follow? We were still together, as close as a man and woman can be and yet I felt myself beginning to miss her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
During cocktails that night I found myself suffering from a wild set of emotions that were like jealousy and letdown combined. Perhaps having the very best, Martha, that first night out would prove to be an ill omen, like winning the first hand in a long poker game. Any other woman tonight could not help but be a comedown. I examined them one after another. Each was extremely attractive. They came in an infinite variety of sizes, shapes and hair colors and yet, they weren't Martha. Suddenly I realized how far astray I had gone in just the first twenty four hours. It was Margaret I should be thinking of and yet my mind was filled with Martha and her abundant charms.
Dinner that night seemed somewhat of a drag. Dr. Evans made a comment to all of us that it was to be expected that we would go through a period of mental and emotional adjustment that might take three to four more nights. I forced myself to eat, out of deference to my partner for tonight, whoever she might be. I had no intentions of gaining the reputation aboard as being a starved, weak stud.
Last night, when the envelopes had been distributed, I had been very blas' about it all, since I knew what mine contained. Tonight I was as anxious as the others and ripped mine open the moment I got it. I was still more frustrated because the name Adele Ryan did not ring a bell. There were many of the passengers whom I had met only briefly. Perhaps the prolonged mystery made her more attractive as I tried to tie up a face to the name. I dawdled over a second brandy as I went down a mental checklist. Most of the other men had already left to join their playmate when I got up and made my way toward cabin 12. I had removed my bag from Martha's cabin and stowed it in the main salon. I retrieved it and made my way forward to the small door bearing the magic number for tonight.
The circumstances of the occasion seemed to make it a little silly to knock, so I simply turned the latch and stepped into the small cabin. At first I thought it was empty. There were no lights and no welcoming voice to greet me. I placed my bag on the deck just inside the door and snapped on the light switch. The cabin was not so luxurious as Martha's. There were over and under bunks against the forward bulkhead and the furnishings were more those of a tourist class cabin on a commercial liner. It was a few moments before I saw her, sitting demurely in the one upholstered chair in a far corner of the cabin. She was crying and trembling.
Adele Ryan was a petite ash blonde with enormous brown eyes. Tears had carried traces of mascara down her cheeks. She looked like an unwilling virgin on her wedding night. For long moments we just looked at each other, neither of us knowing what to say. I felt about as welcome as a dose of clap at a church picnic.
"Why don't you take a few minutes to com pose yourself, Adele? I'll go out and come in again. Meanwhile run a cool cloth over your face and rearrange your makeup. That should make you feel better and by the way, don't sweat it. If you decided you want to chicken out tonight, it's okay with me. I can sleep in that upper bunk and believe me, I'll never tell, so just relax."
Before she had a chance to reply, I backed out the door. I went back to the now deserted main salon. Scrounging behind the bar, I found the makings of a martini and assembled one for myself. I checked my watch and gave her fifteen minutes. If she was tucked into the lower bunk when I went back, I'd climb into the upper and to hell with it.
When I finished my martini I dug around behind the bar and located a small cold bottle of champagne and two chilled glasses. I put these on a small tray and made my way back to number 12. By now nearly twenty minutes had pass ed. When I entered she had gotten over the sobs. Her makeup was fresh and her hair had been brushed.
"I was afraid maybe you wouldn't come back," she said demurely.
"Where else would I go? All of the cabins are taken and I'm not the type to sleep on deck. I couldn't find you any flowers, so I brought champagne. Is that all right?"
She smiled now, looking almost human as I uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. I held one out to her but made her come get it. She arose slowly, bringing herself up to her full five feet. Her petite figure was covered with a thin nylon peignoir. I noted that her breasts were small but firm and in proportion to her body. I would figure them for 34-B. Anything larger would have made her appear top heavy. Checking the rest of her body through the near transparent robe, I noted that she cheated a little to pass for a blonde.
Those big brown eyes watched me checking out her figure but she made no attempt to conceal it as she approached and accepted the glass I held out to her. I made no move to touch her and she seemed to appreciate this. She even seemed to relax a little as she returned to her chair with the drink.
"I hope I'm not too much of a disappointment to you. I guess I'm just not really as brave as I thought I'd be about this whole thing. All day I've been considering jumping overboard and trying to swim back home. I thought this whole experience would be a good idea but, after that horrible man last night, I'm having misgivings. Please be patient with me. I will say that I'm glad it was you tonight. I've been watching you on deck all day, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Suppose for now we just have our drink and chat a bit? I promise you I have no intention of forcing myself upon you. What I said before still goes. In a way I guess I've had a few misgivings too. Dr. Evans said that was normal for this stage of the game."
We finished the small split of champagne and I asked if she would like me to go for more.
"That's not what we're here for is it, Mr. Robinson?" she inquired in a matter of fact tone.
"No, I suppose not, but if you have determined that you want to proceed, I suggest it would be more appropriate if you called me Bob."
All this time I had remained standing. Now she got up and came to me. She pressed her body close to mine and asked me if I would like to kiss her and make love to her. I assured her that I would.
After I had kissed her for several minutes, she pulled back and started unbuttoning my shirt.
"If you are going to spend the night with me, I think you might be a little less formal," she chided. I stood motionless while she removed my shirt, unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly and dropped my slacks down around my ankles. My cock was not exactly unmoved by these actions and now she stared at it like she had never really seen one before. She reached out a cool, timid hand and encircled the staff and squeezed it gently while he grew to twice his present size.
She led me over to the lower bunk and stood before me while I removed her thin negligee. She was small and firm and almost muscular but rounded where a girl should be rounded. For such a petite female she had a massive patch of pubic hair that was several shades darker than the hair of her head. She reached over to turn down the covers, revealing a lovely ass. By now I was fully aroused to action, if indeed there was going to be any.
I slid over to the inside of the narrow bunk and she crawled in close beside me. As she did, the tip of my stiff prick urged its way into that mass of hair seeking the entrance to the tunnel of love. Suddenly she pushed me away. I thought she had gone through another change of heart. She practically hung on the edge of the bunk as she pleaded, "No, Bob, not that way. Please, be patient with me. Promise me that you won't fuck me. Not tonight, anyway. Please!"
This seemed like a pretty crazy request, coming from a woman whose naked body was pressed close to mine between the sheets.
"Well, okay, Adele, if that's the way you want it. I'll go along, but what about him?" To indicate who I was talking about, I jammed the end of my stiff cock right into that mass of fur.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him, but not that way. Not just yet. Try to understand." She seemed close to tears again.
"Now look, honey, I'm a pretty patient guy, but what the hell is with you, anyway? First I tell you it's okay if we just pass the action. Then you undress me and pull me into bed. You shove your snatch up to me and then ask me not to do anything about it. I don't get it."
"God, you men are all so stupid. Do I have to draw pictures for you? Let me tell you why we're on this cruise. My husband, Harry, is a real square when it comes to sex. We've been married for six years now. All he ever wants to do is fuck ... fuck ... fuck. He has no other ideas about sex. I've read a lot of the books and talked to the other girls. There should be a lot more to sex than just being thrown down on your back and having a cock stuffed into your cunt. I don't need that. I get more than enough of that old stuff at home. Now do you understand, or do I have to spell it out more? What I want is for you to go down and suck my pussy and make me come in your mouth. And I want to take your prick in my mouth and work it over until I can taste every drop of your come. Then I want us to do it together. That's what I have been starving for, so is that so bad?"
I apologized for my apparent stupidity and kissed away the tears that were again near the surface. She didn't resist now when I held her close and let my cock feel the moist fur around her sweet slit. Then I moved down and began to work over those sweet little tits. By using both hands and a lot of suction I could almost get one entire boob into my mouth. The nipples were small and even when I had them hard and swollen, they were the size of pencil erasers. Al though they were small, her breasts were extremely sensitive and she squirmed and moaned as I kept mouthing them. Finally she became impatient with me and those strong little hands urged my head down between her spread thighs into that hairy valley. She had a large cunt for such a little girl and I went over every bit of it with my tongue and lips while she ground around beneath me and kept telling me how wonderful it was.
There was a strange flavor to her, like seaweed and something of her cunt reminded me of the sea that surrounded us. When I latched onto the nerve center of her swollen clitoris she shoved that huge hairy thing up to my mouth like life itself depended upon my sucking her dry. I reached my right hand beneath her raised but tocks and slid my middle finger deep into her juicy vulva as my ring finger worked its way into her tight little rear hole. My lips and tongue were glued to her clit as she bucked and heaved beneath my face until finally she gasped and trembled like a falling leaf as she let go into my mouth.
When I raised my mouth from that hot, wet slot she was breathing so heavily that I feared she was about to have a heart attack. I figured it was my turn now so I started to come up in the bunk, but she pressed me back down to that creamy quim.
"Do it again, dear. Suck me again. You didn't get it all the first time. Get back on it and suck out the rest. Please. I'll do it to you twice when you finish, I promise, only get the rest, right now."
I slurped my way back into it. I raised her legs so that my tongue traveled all the way back to her little asshole and urged its way into it, then I worked my way up the long, sodden valley to her clit and back down again. She was flowing so freely now that I had to keep swallowing to keep from drowning in her love juices. After five or six minutes of this, I latched my lips onto that clit and sucked and licked and chewed on it until she came to a shuddering climax which should hold her for a while. Her come was heavy on my lips and dripping off my chin as I pulled up from it. I wiped my face on the sheet and wiggled my way back up to where my overworked head could rest on the pillow.
One thing about this little doll, she had no patience with the usual preliminaries. She practically threw back the covers and leaped down between my thighs. She grabbed my balls in one hand and the base of my swollen cock in the other and without further ado swooped down until she had virtually swallowed my sex into her warm, wanton mouth. She licked, she sucked, she chewed and went up and down on it voraciously. Her attack was impatiently demanding. While she was gobbling me up with lips like the nozzle of a powerful vacuum cleaner, one of the fingers of her hand that gripped and squeezed my balls worked its way into my asshole and urged me even deeper into her hungry mouth. A man cannot take much of this type of action and within two minutes of the time she started, I felt the floodgates burst and I poured forth my hot come into her waiting mouth. She made little appreciative noises as she gulped and swallowed it, like a wine taster sipping at a sure winner.
Even when she had drained the final drop, she refused to release me from her oral grasp. When the feeling of ecstasy had passed, I felt I would go mad if she didn't stop what she was doing to my poor spent cock with her tongue and lips. I tried to force her head away, but she kept on it. I was amazed to sense that after several minutes it began to feel very exciting again and that five minutes later I was aroused to a roaring hard-on again and the sensation of her lips and tongue traveling up and down the entire length of it was virtually curling my toenails. She had promised that if I would give her a "double header" she would do the same for me and she was a woman of her word. After her first massive extraction of my semen I did not think that there could be a thimbleful remaining in my drained balls. She knew better. Five minutes later of her sweet oral massage and I poured forth another full load of hot white come into her hungry mouth. Only after she was satisfied that she had licked the very dregs from my keg did she release my poor exhausted cock from those wondrously demanding lips of hers. Jesus, what a cocksucker this little broad was!
When she came back up and kissed me, she remarked, "There now, isn't that better than just plain old fucking?"
I was almost too weak to answer but gave her a wan smile. I felt like a six-day bike racer being lifted off his wheels to collapse and die. Within minutes I was in a deep, dreamless sleep.
In the morning I awakened with my usual hard-on. Adele lay beside me, as spread-eagled as was possible in the narrow bunk. I ran my hand over her tight little tits and down to her loose big snatch. Goddamn, this little cunt had a grocket like Grand Canyon. What is it they say about not judging a book by its cover? From the size of her you'd have figured she'd be as tight as a drum. Just goes to show you how little we guys know about broads. My masculine pride was somewhat offended by the fact that she had not wanted me to fuck her. The fact that she didn't want it that way seemed to make it all the more attractive. I determined to show her who was boss. Stealthily, I moved over her and worked my knees between hers.
As I shifted my weight over her, she stirred in her sleep and started to snore like a horse. It detracted somewhat from the sexiness of the situation. Once I got into position I lowered my body over hers. No guidance was necessary for my erect cock to find her wet hole. It was about as hard as entering the greased southern end of the Lincoln Tunnel. I didn't penetrate her ... I fell into her. How could this tiny little broad have a cunt the size of all outdoors? Shoving my cock into her had all of the sensuous delights of dipping it in a pail of lard. Goddamn, I thought, if only they could design women's shoes on this principle, what a fortune could be made on her simple configurations ... tiny on the outside-huge on the inside.
I wondered just what kind of a horse cock her husband Harry must have in order to be able to stuff an olive that size. Anyway, she was too much for me. I slipped out of her snatch as stealthily and easily as I had slid in, then lay back beside her in the narrow bunk. My stiff, unsatisfied prick stood up as straight as the mast of the boat on which this action was taking place.
A few minutes later the ship's air conditioning, which was turned off for the night while the generators recharged the huge batteries, came on with a bang. The noise awakened her. She was up on one elbow looking around as though she didn't know where she was. The one thing she didn't have any trouble recognizing was that big stiff cock of mine. With one little gasp of sheer delight she moved so quickly I hardly knew what she was doing. Her knees straddled my head and she lowered that wet wide open cunt to my face while she swept down and slid my trembling cock into her mouth. I was almost smothering in her snatch. She was a real comer and much of the excess juices from last night were running down into my mouth. I slurped away at her cunt which was practically sitting on my face. I concentrated on her clitoris, hoping to make her crumble her cookies as quickly as possible so that I could catch a breath of fresh air.
Now she was pulling all the way off my cock, tickling the glands with her tongue for a few seconds, then sliding her soft damp lips down the shaft all the way until they tickled my balls. The very way she went at it indicated that this little broad would rather suck a cock than eat a steak. Then she added a little extra something. At the bottom of each stroke she'd do some crazy little milking movements with her lips and even her gums.
No man could stand up to much of that treatment and so I intensified my attack on her clit. I pulled it all into my mouth and not only tongued and sucked it but started chewing on it. This did it; she let go and as she did went down further than ever on me and after a second or so of milking action I blasted up into her mouth like a new oil well coming in. When we untangled from our sixty-nine position, our mouths were each dripping with the other's come.
Once we got dressed and went out to see who else was up, I shot behind the main salon bar and made myself a stiff martini. I am not a morning drinker but I swished it around in my mouth before swallowing it. If I hadn't have done this, everybody aboard would have smelled stale cunt on my breath all day.
CHAPTER NINE
The third day out everyone was beginning to get mentally adjusted to the purposes of the trip and the atmosphere was considerably more relaxed. A few members of the group were con fined with seasickness, but fortunately they were equally divided among men and women so as not to unbalance the game.
Dr. Evans seemed very pleased with my answers to his questions this morning. I reported that I had been physically and sexually satisfied but emotionally and aesthetically repulsed by the night's events.
"See, you are already learning to separate sex and love. That is good. I think you will gain much from this trip."
Even though she was technically my partner until the new assignments were made at dinner, I had no desire to have further sexual contact with Adele. The envelope I was dealt tonight contained the name Kay Anderson. She was the oldest woman aboard. I remembered her as the wife in the third couple I had met that first night. I did not anticipate any great thrill to this night. I had a feeling of guilt like I had just contracted to fuck my own mother. As a result I was in no rush to get to cabin number 9. I hung around the dining salon and had several brandies. Finally Dr. Evans and I were the only ones left in the salon. He was dawdling over his brandy and after-dinner cigar. He seemed to sense my apprehension so he reached over and looked at the card I had left face down in front of me.
"Never make prejudgments, Bob. At least, not where women are concerned. In the case of the female age and sexuality are not, of necessity, related, as they must be with the male. You may be in for a very pleasant surprise.
Kay Anderson was sitting on the edge of her bunk as I let myself into cabin 9. She had obviously applied fresh makeup and touched up her hairdo. She wore a long soft wool beige robe and greeted me with a relaxed smile. "I wondered how long it would be before I got lucky and drew you. I'll be free to admit that you have been my prime interest since the first night we met. It took you long enough to get up your nerve to try me. I've been ready for over a half hour. Well, you don't have to just stand there looking like the fly that's been invited into the spider's parlor. I don't bite, but on the other hand, I'll make no promises not to eat you up." She chuckled at her own little joke and I felt a bit more relaxed.
"I'm sorry, I was detained in a conversation with Dr. Evans. It wasn't a matter of getting up my nerve. I've looked forward to you, too," I lied gallantly. Not quite knowing what to do next, I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. She accepted one when I held them out to her and she studied my face carefully as I held the lighter for her.
I moved over to the only chair in the small stateroom and sat down. We smoked quietly for a few minutes as we sized each other up. Finally she broke the prolonged silence. "My dear boy, don't you think I know what's going through your mind. You feel funny about going to bed with a woman that you know is a grandmother." She got up and snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to my chair. Then, standing just in front of me she suddenly whipped open her robe. "Does my body look like your mental image of Granny?" she demanded.
I stared at her in disbelief as my cigarette fell from my mouth. This woman who was pushing sixty had the body of an eighteen-year-old girl. The large breasts were firm, without the slightest sign of a droop. Her tummy was flat and taut. The thighs were firm without a trace of flab, stretch marks, or old-looking flesh. The large patch of hair that hid her inner womanhood was a deep chestnut brown without a trace of gray. I could feel my cock twitching and swelling in appreciation of what my startled eyes beheld. When she moved in closer and brushed those firm tits against my face, I thought it would rip right through my pants.
As though to test my reactions to the sight of her body, she reached down and felt my rapidly swelling prick. She smiled broadly. "Well, at least he doesn't seem to think I'm too old for Aim," she announced proudly, as she stroked it with one hand and started unbuttoning my shirt with the other.
When I was stripped down, I took her in my arms. She sure didn't kiss like any grandmother I'd ever thought of. My hands slid inside her open robe and felt her buttocks. They were as smooth and firm as the rest of her. I grasped them and pulled her closer, grinding my ramrod into that chestnut muff as her firm tits pressed to my chest sent shivers all through me. I simply couldn't get over that body.
Later, when we crawled into the lower bunk, I was further surprised to discover that she was so tight and dry that I couldn't work even the tip of my prick into her. I determined to lubricate her with the only means at my disposal. I slid down in the bunk and sucked on that tight little cunt. Slowly, as my lips and tongue massaged her and my saliva lubricated her vulva lips, she began to loosen up to a point where penetration would be possible. I went up and tongued her little clitoris that was the size of a pea. She squirmed in delight at the contact. I sensed that she didn't get this oral treatment very often and wanted to have me go all the way with it. I was happy to oblige her. I was really warming to the action now and enjoying every stroke of my tongue as much as she was. My hands found and fondled her firm breasts as I sucked her to a perfect orgasm. When she came, the flavor of her cunt was a mixture of nutmeg and brandy. She was positively delicious. She was moist and ready now as I guided the knob of my cock into the trembling lips of her vagina. Even so, she was as tight as a virgin and I had to work it into her inch by inch. She worked with me to help it in every bit of the way.
Once we had effected full penetration, she whispered, "Don't move for a minute. Just let me feel it all the way in me. I want to squeeze it for a while before you start stroking it in and out."
It must have taken years of practice to perfect the muscular control that she had of her vaginal walls. She hugged and squeezed my buried staff with little ripples of muscular contortions that could have made me come without my moving a muscle. Keerist, what an educated cunt this gal had! When it got to where I could stand it no longer I started pulling out to really pump her. She was so tight that I had to take short strokes at first until I reamed her out to size, then gradually I gave her the full-length treatment. She was right in there with me, heaving and shoving it up to me while she kept those crazy muscles working on it all the time. What a wild piece of ass this old girl turned out to be!
Twice I got ready to come, but she felt it and squeezed my cock so tightly that I couldn't get it out into her. When it built up for the third time, she was ready to join me and so she relaxed the grip her inner muscles had on my swollen, tortured prick. I felt her inner juices flow onto the buried head of my cock as it swelled up and shot three separate bursts of hot come into that tight and exciting cunt of hers. Even then she kept milking me with those marvelous muscles to make sure that she had every drop of my manhood in her vault. I couldn't get over this broad! Never in my life had I had such a sensational fucking as she had given me. I wanted more of it right away but knew that I was drained dry for the present.
"Still disappointed with your assignment for tonight?" she asked while laughter danced in her eyes to taunt and tease me about my earlier reticence to go to bed with her.
"Good Lord, no! You're terrific. You must have found that Fountain of Youth that Ponce de Leon was searching for. You are absolutely unreal. I am amazed and delighted with you, my dear Kay."
"Well, now, I hope you are pleased enough with my performance to buy the old lady a drink," she suggested, hopping from the bunk and treating me to another full-length view of that unbelievable body.
We slipped into our robes and made our way aft to the main salon. Little animal noises came from some of the cabin doors we passed but we needn't have bothered with the robes. We had the ship all to ourselves. I remembered that she liked martinis too, so I slipped behind the bar and made a pitcher of my very best. We toasted each other silently and drank quietly for a while. Finally I got up my nerve to ask her the question that was foremost in my mind. "Kay, how in the hell do you do it? I know you're older than any other woman on this cruise and yet you have the youngest body aboard. What's the secret?"
"There's no secret, my dear boy. Every woman can maintain her youth. Most of them just give up. I am engaged in a never-ending battle with the forces of gravity which produce all the aging processes until they finally kill us and pull us right into the ground from whence they come. I have had my face lifted three times. My breasts and buttocks have been kept up with a series of silicone injections. I gobble Vitamin E capsules like most women munch bon-bons. Do you know I still menstruate? I take regular exercises and get frequent massages. Naturally, I dye my hair. When I do, I mix a little extra batch for a snatch to match. Most important of all, I refuse to have old thoughts. Youth isn't a fountain ... it is a state of mind. I work hard at maintaining that state of mind, that's all."
When we finished our drinks, we strolled out onto the deck and to the stern of the yacht. We held hands, like teenagers, as we admired the moonlight on the water and the twin white wakes of the propellers as they stretched out behind us to the horizon. I placed my arm around her loosely and let it slip down to caress those lovely buttocks. She slipped a hand beneath my robe and gently stroked my cock which gave definite signs of being ready to arise from its slumber.
Back in the cabin I gave my full attention to those terrific tits. They were almost too perfect to be real. This old gal could have gotten star billing in any topless bar in the country. She enjoyed having them played with too. When I sucked and chewed gently on the nipples, she squirmed so much you'd have thought I was sucking her pussy instead of her tits. It affected me down there too so I led her back to the bunk. I slid in first in order to give her the outside position. Instead of getting in beside me, she crawled on top of me. Hers was no squatting stance like Martha's, she lay flat on top of me, her legs down straight and just outside of mine. Reaching down between us, she guided my cock into the mouth of that tight channel. Even on this second round, well lubricated with both our coital juices, it was still a thrillingly tight fit. She worked it gradually down onto me like putting on a boot. At last our pubic hairs matted together and she encased my swollen prick clear down to my balls.
I expected her to start sliding up and down on it now but she had another treat in store for me. The full weight of her hips was on mine and her hairy mound ground down against me, holding me pinned to the mattress where I could not make a movement of my own. Holding me as deeply inside her as she could get it, she started working over my trapped cock with those crazy muscles of hers. She started with little gentle squeezings that ran up and down the length of my shaft like a pair of lips giving the most delicate of head. Ever so slowly, she increased the pressure and the tempo until I felt like my cock was caught in a runaway milking machine that was about to blow its fuse. Her body never moved an inch and mine couldn't. All of the movement was with those educated vaginal muscles of hers. They ran up and down me like artificial lightning along the giant electrodes in those science-fiction movies. Man, this was really way out, wild and weird.
The sensations that tight cunt of hers produced were unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life. It wasn't like being fucked, sucked, or masturbated. It combined the best elements of all three and then some. Every bit of my consciousness was directed to my cock. You could have given me a hot foot or pulled a tooth and I wouldn't have known it. The rest of my body just faded away and my entire being was just one torturously swollen prick that was caught up in the vortex of a tornado that was her pulsating cunt. I had never known such sheer heaven. It was blowing my mind. I wanted it to last forever and ever.
With every ounce of self-control I could muster, I tried to hold back and resist the demands that madly convulsing cunt was making upon my throbbing balls. She sensed my resistance and went after me even more voraciously. At last, with a roaring in my ears, my volcano erupted and spurted flame and love lava into that madly pulsating sex tube of hers. All of the flesh, bone and marrow of my body melted and ran out my spewing spout into her insatiable womb. When she finished with me, for the first time in my life, I fainted dead away.
It was morning when I came to. I reached out for her but the bunk was empty. I wondered if she had climbed into the upper bunk. Just as I was about to look, I heard the flushing sound of the electric head with which each cabin was equipped. I glued my eyes to the door of the small bathroom, waiting for her to emerge. A minute or so later the door opened and she came toward me. She had applied fresh makeup and her hair was neatly arranged. She was no slouch, this Kay Anderson. Her body looked just as great in the bright sunlight streaming through the porthole as it had the night before. The same golden rays that bathed her body in beauty blinded her temporarily as she approached the bunk. She was nearly upon me before she spotted Old Faithful standing erect to greet the dawn of a new day. The sight obviously delighted her.
"What a lovely way to say good morning. But this time it is my turn to provide the lubrication." She had a nice way of smiling while she talked. Sitting near the bottom edge of the bunk she bent over and flicked her tongue around the tip of my firm erection. Opening her lips into a large oval, she slipped them down to en case the top third of my staff. It twitched in de light at the gentle contact. Now she slid up and down it fully, keeping her tongue active on the sensitive underside of it.
She kept making little Ummmm noises as she swept up and down the length of it. I was happy to discover that her mouth was as talented as her cunt. It was getting very slippery now with the mixture of her saliva and my own precoital excretions. I knew I couldn't take much of this and wondered if she wanted to take it all the way in her mouth. As though she read my thoughts, she pulled off suddenly and lay down beside me. I mounted her quickly and we worked that slippery rod into her tight little box. She threw her legs around me and slipped a finger into my ass to pull me closer as I began to ram viciously into her like the goring of an enraged bull.
It was the mad, abandoned primitive fucking of two wild jungle animals that we gave to each other this morning. Five minutes later as we fused in perfect unison we were covered with sweat. We lay panting in each other's arms for several minutes before either of us could muster up strength to move.
"Bob, please don't be angry with me because I stopped sucking your cock when I did. I could tell that you wanted me to go all the way but I just had to have it inside me this morning. Try to understand. I know that I owe you one, down there, for last night. I won't renege. Right after lunch we'll come back here for a little siesta and then I promise to suck your cock until you yell 'uncle.' Is that a deal?"
"That's a deal. Right now how about a shower and some chow? I've never been so hungry in my life. You take quite a bit out of a man, you know."
Dr. Evans gave me a knowing look when I went in to his cabin for my daily interview. I could only describe my sex experiences with Kay Anderson as sensational and her as being a beautiful and wonderful woman. When he asked about my emotional reactions, I said that I felt nothing for her but respect and admiration. He seemed pleased that I had developed a taste for vintage wine and that I was rapidly learning the difference between love and just a good piece of ass.
After lunch Kay and I went forward to cabin 9 for our planned tryst. She seemed as anxious as I to get with it. As soon as we had stripped off our clothes, she took the pillows from the bunks and placed one in the back of the chair and the other on the deck in front of it. I sat back comfortably while she sat on the cushion between my spread legs. She patted and caressed and rubbed my genitals with her hand until I had a full and working erection. I noticed the way she watched it as it grew and expanded and then trembled at her touch. She had that little smile in her eyes as though she was proud of what she was doing to me. Only when it was as stiff as a ramrod did she even start to lower her face toward it. At first all she did was purse her lips and blow a stream of her warm breath up and down the length of it until it trembled at the slight breeze. She seemed especially to enjoy watching my hairs around my balls wave in the breeze as she blew her breath on them.
"Hey, lady, that isn't what they mean by the term 'blow-job' " I teased, urging her to get down to the business at hand.
"Young man, I can get along just fine without your helpful suggestions. I trust that it isn't necessary for me to remind you that I've been doing this since before you were born."
All of a sudden I felt about as close to incest as I had ever come. This beautiful woman who was preparing to suck my cock was older than my own mother. I shut up. She started now with her tongue. First she licked off all the clear fluid that was oozing up out of the slit in the head of my throbbing prick. Then she treated the entire glands to the tongue-tickling treatment and finally worked her way slowly down the big vein on the bottom of it until she reached my balls. Now she gave them the full treatment with her tongue. A million shivers went up and down my spine with her every contact. At last she lifted my balls and even worked the tip of her tongue into my strangely sensitive asshole. I was absolutely on fire now.
After several moments of the anal treatment she worked her way back up and then, without warning, sucked my balls into her mouth until she had orally contained my entire scrotum. Even with them in her warm moist mouth, her tongue kept working on them, teasing, caressing and massaging. It was the first time I had ever had my balls sucked this way and the very thought of it made me blow my brain. Goddamn, what a wild sensation. I thought I'd blow my load right into her neat hairdo while she sucked my tortured balls. At last she released them and working her way up the shaft of my big cock with that dancing tongue, she parted her lips and slipped them around the head of my throbbing prick. It was sheer heaven. She seemed in no hurry and I got the impression that, in some ways, this was thrilling her as much as it did me and that was saying a mouthful ... with no puns intended.
Slowly and tenderly she pressed those soft lips down farther and farther onto my swollen rod as I felt it being enveloped ever deeper into the hot wetness of her mouth. I felt a vague tickling sensation as her palate dragged over the head of my cock as she worked it all the way down into her throat. The whole heavenly experience was even greater than it had been this morning when she went down on me for the first time. Perhaps it was because I knew that this time she was going to go all the way.
Up and down the length of me she went, first slowly, then rapidly and demandingly. I felt the need of contact with her now so I worked my foot around to where I felt the furry patch and wiggled my big toe into the moist slit. I wiggled and twisted it to tickle her clit while she expertly sucked my cock up and down all the way. I loved looking down at my lap and watching that chestnut head bob up and down as my big hard prick disappeared completely into those ruby lips and I felt the ultimate thrill as her tongue reached all the way down it to my balls.
She felt that I was ready to come and pressed her tongue so tightly to my come tube that nothing could pass. I thought I would go mad and then she released the pressure and made one more long, slow trip all the way up and then back down again. This time when her lips reached the base of my manly staff I almost screamed in sheer relief as I let go with a bursting, bubbling outpouring of my hot come deep down in the wet tight confines of her throat. Even then she did little things with her throat, akin to what she did to me with her cunt until she had dredged up the very final pearl from the base of my sex harbor. It was a come to end all comes. I fell back on the cushion in the chair, utterly drained and supremely happy. Even then she didn't re lease me from my moist prison until what had been seven inches retracted back to two.
When she finally pulled her hungry lips from my thoroughly spent member, she looked up at me with the old laughter in her eyes and treated me to a broad grin. A little trickle of my come escaped from the corner of her mouth and worked its way down to her chin. Feeling it, she wiped it off with her finger and then licked her finger as though she had just cleaned out the cake-mixing bowl.
There are lots of guys who would shudder at the very thought of having sex with a broad twice their age. I used to agree with them but that was before last night ... and before Kay Anderson. I had always been brought up to have respect for my elders and that now applied to the field of sex too. I guess a perfect sex performance is something like a perfect piano recital ... nothing can take the place of years and years of practice.
CHAPTER TEN
My fourth drawing in our sea-going sex lottery was Joan Barker. I must say that I was rather pleased with my luck for tonight. In contrast to Kay, Joan was the youngest girl aboard. She had just passed her twenty-second birthday. She was a widow. Her husband, a well-known race-car driver, had been killed in a fiery crash at Daytona last year. Her reasons for joining a group like this were known only to herself and perhaps Dr. Evans.
Joan was a tall, willowy ash blonde. Her figure was thin, lithe and almost boyishly angular, except that she seemed to have a pretty fair pair of tits for a skinny broad. She had high cheek bones and sunken cheeks. Her lips, which were thin, were always made-up with that frosty light colored lipstick. She wore false eyelashes that seemed to dominate her entire face. She had the appearance of a high fashion model who could have fallen on board directly from the cover of Vogue or Harper's Bazaar. There was a certain haughtiness to her demeanor that made it difficult to picture her engaging in anything so mundane or plebian as a sex act.
Because of her aloof personality I tapped lightly on the door of cabin 6 when I came to join her. She called for me to come in, in one of those carefully cultivated society-type voices. When I pushed open the door and stepped in, she was posed leaning against the bureau with her hips thrust forward, the way models walk, as though they had a ballpoint pen shoved up their ass. She was wearing ice blue satin lounging pajamas with very full flared legs. It reflected the light nicely, especially around her tits, which seemed to be the only flesh on her. She gave me a painted smile and asked if I would join her in a glass of champagne. She had gotten the steward to bring in a bottle and two glasses for the occasion. Since this didn't look like it would be the type of affair that a guy could jump into with both feet, I accepted. What the hell, if I had to play it slow, I might as well drink while I waited.
Something about her seemed to build a plate glass wall of sheer ice between us. This felt like anything but an assignation. We exchanged small talk and sipped until the large bottle was empty. When the bottle was dry I would not have been surprised to hear her suggest a game of back gammon. She kept watching me with that "touch me not" look of hers. If I'd had another place to sleep tonight I think I'd have walked out and gone there. I finally decided that someone had to make a move and it looked like it was my play.
I walked over and swept her into my arms in my very best Errol Flynn manner. I pulled her close to me and kissed her. She accepted my kiss and my caress with all of the response of a department store dummy. I ran my hands lightly over her body and finally cupped those tits. There seemed to be nothing else to get a grip on. She pushed my hands away, as though in sheer disgust.
I thought to hell with this human iceberg. If I wasn't going to get laid, I'd get a good night's sleep. Perhaps tomorrow night would be better. I began to remove my clothes and hang them over the back of the chair. I thought she might melt a little at the sight of my manhood so I very slowly removed my shorts. Her eyes, which I was watching, never went below my shoulders. I was beginning to get annoyed now.
I walked over to her, stark naked. She seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact. I grab bed at the zipper slide, expecting her to push me away. She stood like a statue as I unzipped the outfit all the way down to the crotch. I shoved the pajamas off her shoulders and tugged it down until it fell around her ankles. She was wearing a bra and panties underneath. I bent down and lifted her feet out of the fallen garment, then hung it neatly over the chair on top of my clothes. Her face was utterly expression less. I didn't know whether she would scream, run, or just plain cold cock me with the champagne bottle. By now I didn't much give a shit.
I walked back to her and reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. I shoved the straps over her shoulders and tugged it off. To my dismay, her tits came off with it. She was as flat as I was. Well, what the hell, there was more to a woman than just tits. I leaned over and hooked my thumbs in the elastic of her panties and yanked them down. As they dropped my eyes watched for the patch of cunthair. There was none. She had shaved her pussy as clean as a billiard ball. With no tits and no cunthair I thought that I had either a statue or a very tall little girl on my hands.
I was so frustrated I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. For fully a minute I just stood there staring at her. Finally I found my tongue. "I don't get it. I thought we were all on this cruise for the purpose of having sex. Don't you want to have sex with me?"
"Oh, yes, I do. I want to desperately but I can't offer myself to any man. Not so soon after Jeff was killed. Don't you understand?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't. If you don't want to give yourself to another man, what the hell are you doing on board this boat?" I demanded. My patience was growing thin. Her very indifference to my manhood was giving me a hard-on now.
"Please try to understand, Bob. It is Bob, isn't it? Jeff and I were very young and very much in love. Now that he's gone I can't give myself to another man ... not yet. But, even though I look like a toothpick, underneath I am a very fully developed sensuous woman. I just don't look the part. I often wish I did. In any event, I really am sexy and I am in need of sexual attention. That's why I'm here. It's just that I still have this crazy feeling of guilt about offering myself to another man, so soon, I mean. Don't you see, Bob? What I'm trying to say is that I can't give it to you but I want you to force me to. I want you to knock me down and take it away from me. Some silly part of my conscience has to feel that I am still being true to Jeff's memory. However, I am a very frail girl. I can't offer much resistance, so there isn't really too much I can do about it if a man decides to rape me. I know it's childish, but that's how I am, right now, anyway. Please, Bob, play my little game with me. Push me, shove me, hit me, beat me up, knock me down, force me. Do anything you like. I promise not to scream or cause a fuss. I just have to feel that I'm not giving it to you but that you are taking it away from me. Don't you see? I do want you, really. I want you desperately. Rape me, Bob, please! Yes, dear, please rape me. Rape me now. I want it right now!"
I've heard of some pretty nutty broads in my life but this one took the cake. I wondered what a judge and jury would say if you testified, under oath, that the alleged victim begged and pleaded with you to rape her!
"Well, honey, for tonight it's just you and me. We drew the lucky cards and for better or worse we're stuck with each other. I think you're nuts, but if that's your bag, I'll play your game. Just remember that you called the shots."
I had never struck a broad in my life, although God knows there had been occasions when I had been sorely tempted. I tried to remember all of them now as I stepped up to her and backhanded her across the face so hard that she staggered to the floor. I was beginning to get in the mood now. I kicked her with my bare foot and sent her frail frame sprawling across the cabin floor. She never let out a peep.
I was beginning to warm up to the game now. I determined to add a few little extra innings of my own design. The first thing I was going to do was wipe that smug, haughty, better-than-you look off her pretty kisser.
I knew that she expected me to fall on top of her now and force her legs apart and shove it to her. That's what she wanted so that's what she wasn't going to get. Not yet, anyway. I straddled her flat chest and pinned her arms to the floor with my knees. I grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her up until her face was right on my cock.
"Eat it!" I ordered, shoving the tip of my prick against her tightly clenched lips.
"Oh, no, please. I don't do that. I never have. That isn't the way I want it," she whimpered.
"Well, for your information, dames that get raped very seldom are given the choice of how they want it. Now you gobble my cock or I'll knock your goddamn head off."
She must have thought I was just embellishing her little game because she turned her head to one side. I caught her in the side of one of those hollow cheeks with an openhanded slap that threw her head clear over the other way. Her eyes turned into saucers as she realized I was serious. She still tried to get her face away from my demanding prick which was shoved right into it. I grabbed her by the hair and lifted her up until her lips were right against the tip of my cock. Her lips were pressed together as tight as she could get them. I grabbed her nose between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed the nostrils closed. When she ran out of breath she opened her mouth for a gasp of air. The second she did, I shoved both thumbs in it and forced her teeth wide apart. I guided the tip of my now excited prick in between them as I threatened her. "You get any bright ideas about biting it and I'll tear your fucking head off. You understand?"
She emitted little grunting noises through her nostrils. I took my thumbs out of her mouth now and shoved my cock further in. She sputtered and gagged but she took it as I filled her mouth for fully five minutes. I could feel the muscles in her jaws relax and her head press closer. The little cunt was beginning to like it. The fact that she liked it and wanted it spoiled all my fun, so I pulled it out. She grabbed my ass and tried to pull me back to her mouth which was wide open now. To hell with her, she couldn't have any more.
I crawled down on top of her belly and forced her legs apart with my knees. She offered a little token resistance so I added a little flavor to the game by giving her a sound slap across the face. She sprang open like the Bastille gates. I had to grab the staff of my swollen cock and scrounge around to find the lips of her silken slit. With no hair to guide me in, it was like trying to dock a ferryboat with all the greased pilings removed. I finally located the proper slot and urged the knob into the juicy crack. Once or twice she tried to throw her hips aside to unseat me but each time I swatted her across the cheeks and soon she lay quietly as I plugged her hairless hole all the way. She started crying now but they weren't tears of outrage or pain ... they were tears of joy. Despite her look of utter disdain, she started to lift that bald mound up to me and soon we were fucking furiously as I drove her thin ass against the deck. Her hipbones bruised me as I drove it home but once I found her switch and turned her on, she was all woman. She threw her arms around me and kissed me with a passion I had not thought her capable of showing. Her ass thrashed around as she struggled to get all of my cock in that hairless cunt. God, but she got juicy.
Now the bitch was really enjoying this and since she was the one who wanted to play the rape game, this spoiled the whole action for me. I had only one course open to me. I pulled my prick out of that now soggy cunt while she heaved up madly to retrieve it. Grabbing her brusquely by the shoulders, I threw her over onto her stomach and attacked her from the rear. I had never fucked a girl in the ass. Never had any real desire to. But this dame wanted to be punished and this was the only way left to do it.
"Oh, my God, no. Not back there. You're much too big. You will rip me apart. Oh please, I'll do anything. Put it back in my mouth if you like, but not back there, you'll kill me!"
This time I really had to fight her to get tier legs apart but once they were spread I took the head of my juice-covered cock and pressed it tight against the little tan doughnut of her ass hole. I lunged at her fiercely and after several thrusts I felt the head of my throbbing cock force its way into her tight rectum. I had to rest a moment after the initial effort, but then I plugged her ass deeper and deeper while she moaned and begged and protested.
"Well, baby, you said you wanted to be raped. You should be happy now; you are getting the ultimate rape. So shut up and enjoy it."
I lunged unmercifully deeper and deeper into her rear until, at last, my balls came to rest on that flat little ass of hers. My God, but it was tight and good. She was much hotter in her ass than in her cunt. As I kept ramming it into her and then pulling it out, I thought at first that it would tear all the skin off my cock. At the moment I was mad and didn't care. Little by little she loosened up and became more moist. Before long it turned out to be lovely fucking and I was thoroughly enjoying this new experience. Some of this reaction must have been contagious because I could feel her begin to shove her ass back up to me to meet every stroke. Before long she was ass-fucking me with a passion.
"Oh, my God," she exclaimed suddenly. "I'm going to come! How can that be? How can I come with you in my ass? Here it is ... ooooh!"
She wasn't faking either. I could feel the muscles in her asshole contract around my buried cock much as Kay's had last night. I made just a few more deep strokes and blew my own full load of come deep down into her bowels.
When I plopped it out of her ass, I suddenly realized that she had spoiled even this aspect of the rape game for me by accepting and ultimately liking it. She was smiling her haughty smile as she rolled over and looked up at me. I had to wipe that smile off her arrogant face. I looked down at my poor shrunken cock. It was covered with the white froth of my come, tinged now with brownish streaks and little flecks. It didn't take any deep thinking to figure where they had come from or what they were.
I rolled over flat on my back and grabbed her brutally by the ears. I forced her down between my legs to where her face was right over the filthy mess her asshole had made of my proud prick. "Clean it off!" I demanded harshly. "Lick and suck it clean or I'll tear your goddamn ears off."
She tried to pull away but my steady pressure and tight grip on those ears told her I meant what I said. I enjoyed watching the repugnance on her pretty face as I forced her to take it into her mouth and lick and suck it clean. By the time she had sucked it clean, the damn thing was hard again so I made her keep sucking and licking. After about five minutes I let go of her ears. She made no effort to pull away, but kept going down sucking and licking on my cock until finally I shot a load into her mouth. Even then, she didn't back off. She swallowed and seemed to savor every drop of it. She kept right on it until I had to force her head off the poor spent thing before she drove me right up the walls.
Once it was over and things had sorta calmed down a bit, I thought she would surely order me out of her cabin, or threaten to raise hell with Dr. Evans, or something. Instead she snuggled up to me like a kitten, as she purred, "Oh, Bob, darling. That was the most wonderful rape a girl ever had. You do understand, don't you? Thank you, my dear sweet friend. Thank you so very much. I'll let you rest now, if you'll promise to force me to do it all again in the morning."
I've met some pretty kooky broads in my life but this lovely lithe little lady has to take the cake when it comes to real ding-dongs. I tried to figure her out for almost an hour, as she lay in my arms. Then I gave up and went to sleep. I had never realized before that insanity was contagious. It must be because when we woke up in the morning I went along with her crazy game and "forced" her to do the same scene all over again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dr. Evans could sense that I was pussyfooting when he asked, me to report on my night with Joan Barker. I wanted to be cooperative but I was embarrassed to tell him exactly what had happened. It finally helped when he told me that she had already made her report and that she thought I was the greatest. He may have violated professional confidences when he admitted that the first three men had merely gone through the motions and then given her up as a lost cause. When he asked me my emotional reactions to the experience, I admitted that I had enjoyed feeling that I was raping a woman, even though I knew it was all a game. Yes, she had been satisfying physically, but only as a diversion. I remarked that it was strange, Kay was so much older while Joan was younger than me; yet, of the two, I found Kay infinitely more satisfying and desirable.
When we came to the drawing after dinner that night my envelope contained the name Barbara Dillon, cabin number 3. I had gotten to know Barbara and her husband George while on board. They were a reasonably attractive couple in their early to mid-forties who had simply grown bored with each other, sexually. They wanted to swing, but because of their kids and the community in which they lived they couldn't. This cruise had been their chance.
Stepping into cabin 3, I saw Barbara wearing a sheer white nightie. The light was behind her and it showed her figure very clearly. Her body was completely feminine but in no way outstanding. I had no desire to repeat any of the torturous preliminaries of last night so I started to undress the moment I came in the door. After some fifteen years of marriage she seemed only vaguely aware of my presence and what I was doing. What I could see of her body fell somewhat short of electrifying me with passionate desire. When I was completely bare I walked over and embraced her. She put her arms around me and when I kissed her she opened her mouth to accept my tongue but in a perfunctory manner. I ran my hands over her body. Everything was a little too soft. Her nipples hung a little too low to burrow into my chest. The cheeks of her ass felt like all of the muscles had dissolved into fatty tissue. Her little round stomach that pressed against mine flattened out like a soft pillow at the contact.
When I helped her slip off the nightie, I could understand why her husband had gotten bored with her. Oh, everything was there that should be there. She had a pretty fair pair of tits, but that's all you could say for them. They drooped noticeably and there were definite stretch marks around the edges. The nipples were too large and too dark and the huge aureoles were almost a deep brown, rather than the "titty nipple pink" which I prefer. Her stomach and ass definitely sagged and the flesh had a middle-aged, too white, unhealthy look to it. Her legs were just legs. The nicest thing you could say about them was that they did reach from the floor clear up to her ass. Her face was pretty, but faded, like a rose that's been kept in the vase too long. All in all, she was a typical middle-aged, middle class housewife. She looked like her hair should be up in curlers and she should be pushing a shopping cart around the local supermarket while wearing a tired cotton print housedress.
Her only redeeming feature, as far as I was concerned, might not have impressed most men. It just happens to be a personal hang-up of mine. She had a tremendous forest of cunthair. It went damn near up to her belly button. Not only that, but it was long and thick. The sides of that fuzzy equilateral triangle must have measured a full seven or eight inches. The sight of all that hair was doubly welcome to me after the shaved snatch that I'd been assigned to last night.
After I examined her naked body for a moment, I went to her and felt of those flabby, droopy breasts. I had no burning desire to put the oversized brown nipples in my mouth. I reached down and ran my fingers through that mass of cunthair. She reached down and took my cock rather halfheartedly into her hand. I went down on my knees and tried to bury my face in that muff but she shoved me away disgustedly. When I tried to get her to go down and give Junior a little kiss of welcome she was repulsed at the thought. She made it perfectly clear that her interest in sex was limited to a plain, old-fashioned fuck. She had a curiosity to try out cocks other than her husband's but only in that way.
Since there was little else to do, I took her to bed and fucked her. She lay there and took it as though it were part of her wifely duties. She might as well have been asleep or dead. Even my very best efforts failed to arouse any response on her part. I was about to give up but figured, what the hell. I closed my eyes and tried to think of Martha or Kay or anybody. At last, with consummate efforts, I managed to blow a small load into that wet, dead snatch. It held all the erotic excitement of taking a pee when you don't really have to.
She went to sleep soon after that and snored like an old horse. I was unable to sleep what with the noise and a general feeling of frustration and utter disgust, not so much with this poor woman, but with myself. I needed a drink and some fresh air. I dug out my robe and slippers and sneaked quietly out of her cabin and made my way aft to the little bar I was becoming so familiar with.
I was deeply immersed in thoughts and martinis when I sensed that I was no longer alone. I looked up to see Martha standing very close to me. Her big tits seemed to be struggling, as usual, for escape from the terrycloth robe she wore. Without asking, I made her a drink.
"Well, Bob, how's everything in the 'wild oats' department?"
"It stinks," I commented honestly. "And how go things in the scientific whore department?"
She could have been insulted but she gave me that throaty little laugh instead. She reached over and patted me right on the cock. "I sup pose an honest question deserves an honest answer. Take tonight, for example. I got old man Anderson, Kay's husband. He's sixty-one, you know. He had a little too much brandy after dinner and fell asleep in the chair in my cabin. I had to undress him and tuck him into beddy bye. Last night I got soft-pecker Dillon. He tried for two hours to get a hard-on before giving up and going to sleep."
"I can understand that. It isn't you, dear, it's reflex action. I just left his wife. Dames like her could make the chastity belt popular with men."
She looked at me for a long time in that funny way she has. She never said a word but took my hand and led me out onto the fantail deck. We found one of those double chaises and she pressed me onto it. Then without a word she opened my robe and lowered her mouth onto my limp cock and swept it inside. It didn't stay limp for long. As soon as she had it good and hard I pulled her up to me and kissed her. Then I threw open her robe and crawled on top of her. That sweet soft, warm cunt of hers felt like heaven, especially when it raised up to me and willingly and wantonly worked with me to provide the sweetest of lovers' fucks. Old dead-ass Dillon hadn't drained much out of me, so I had a goodly supply of liquid pearls to deposit in her open oyster.
Neither of us had any desire to go back to our assigned mates so we spent all night on deck. Just after I heard eight bells sound on the ship's clock Martha slid down and took me into her soft lips. Her big tits scraped against my balls as she slid up and down on my cock. Believe me, you've never really had head until you've had it on the open deck of a private yacht in the middle of the ocean at four in the morning beneath a full moon. The inside of her mouth was the softest and sweetest thing my turgid cock had ever felt. Her long black hair fell down over my stomach so that I could hardly see her face as she worked it up and down my stiff staff. When I finally came in her lovely mouth, it started way down in the soles of my feet and rushed up to flood out in wave after wave inside those tender lips as she gulped and swallowed to take every drop of it inside herself.
Later I sucked her sweet cunt just as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the soft jet black hairs above the center of my attentions. Her lovely vulva tasted like honey straight from the comb and that clitoris of hers stood as erect as a tiny pecker when I licked it and swept it into my lips to finish her off. When she came in my mouth, it was no halfway measure. She shuddered from head to toe and moaned like a sinking ship. It was wonderful to have her precious cunt again.
When the sun was fully over the eastern horizon, I sneaked back to cabin 5, dressed and beat a hasty retreat before baggy Barbara awakened. I couldn't bear the thought of having to fuck that live corpse again after the real woman I had just been with.
When my interview turn came I gave Dr. Evans an honest opinion on my experience with the Dillon woman. He made no comment. I am sure he had had a similar report from each of her mates. I did not volunteer any information on Martha. He might have felt that she had violated the rules, so I just forgot it ... as far as the report was concerned.
Tonight I was assigned Mary Slade, aged forty-two, petite brunette, married twenty years, husband aboard. Mary was in cabin number 5. As I entered, she was bustling about, whistling softly to herself. She wore a plain beige silk robe with piping that seemed to have been dyed to match her medium-brown hair. She stood just about five foot nothing and might have tipped the scales at a hundred pounds if she held a heavy suitcase in her hand. At first she hadn't heard me enter. When she became aware of my presence, she grinned broadly and tripped on over to greet me properly for the occasion.
"Oh, hi. It's you. I'm glad. I've been kinda looking for you every night. You're sorta cute." She had a bubbling way of talking in little staccato sentences. She had thrown her arms up around my neck and I thought she was planning on swinging on me. Her face was down on my chest and I could feel a real nice pair of tits pressing into my belly. She obviously had nothing on beneath the robe.
"I just hope you don't have too big a prick," she exclaimed suddenly as she slipped one hand down to check on my equipment. At least there was nothing backward about this little lady.
"Oh, that's beautiful. Just right. As long as it doesn't get too terribly big when it's hard. You see that's been my main fear of this whole experience. I'm a very tiny woman, as you can see. What I mean is, I'm also tiny down there. When Jimmy, my husband, first began to get openly interested in swinging, or extra-curricular sex, or whatever you call it, he used to bring home books and magazines full of sexy pictures. I was willing to play. He's very fair, he wouldn't step out on me unless I had the same privilege. That's why this cruise is so perfect for us. There is no fear of embarrassment. We know everybody is here for the same thing. Well, anyway I used to look at those pictures. Some of the men in them were hung like Gargantua. Jimmy is just a nice, normal six inches. Some of these guys had twelve to fourteen inches and as big around as my ankle. Someone like that would kill me. I'm glad you're not one of them."
I hastened to assure her, even after her manual inspection, that while I had received a few complaints, being overly endowed in the pecker department was not one of them.
"Hey, you wanna drink? I swiped a bottle of brandy and two snifters from the liquor locker. Why don't you get out of those silly clothes while I pour us a shot?" Although she asked questions, she never waited for answers, just went bubbling merrily along like a mountain stream.
I took off my clothes and sat on the one chair. She was digging' in the wardrobe and returned with a nearly full bottle and the two glasses. She sat them on the small chair side table and poured a couple of healthy slugs. We clinked glasses and took a first sip. It was nice, like liquid fire.
"I have a surprise for you," she chuckled. "Brace yourself for a shock." As she spoke, she was untying the loose belt of her robe. She opened it slowly, holding one hand near her tummy so that the top came open first. She had a lovely pair of tits, just in perfect proportion to her small body. There was still plenty of pink and white meat there to keep any man happy for hours. I wasn't very surprised yet. Then she opened the lower part of her robe. I was sure that her medium-brown hair was natural since it had just a few strands of gray in it. I was not prepared for that bush she now revealed. It was as pure white as George Washington's wig. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I wondered if she bleached it or if it came from douching with Clorox. She must have read my thoughts.
"Oh, it's perfectly natural. When I was a young girl the doctors couldn't agree whether it was caused by a lack of pigmentation in my pubic region or by a slight strain of albino blood in my family background. It just grew in that color, or rather lack of color, when I was about twelve. I used to be embarrassed about it when I started heavy dating and for a long time I dyed it. One night some of the dye trickled down into my crack. It made me so sore inside that I couldn't see my then boyfriend for nearly a month. After that I said to hell with it. That's my surprise for you. Now stand up and let me see your surprise for me."
There was something appealing in her straight forward manner. I had an immediate strong liking for this little lady. The sight of those nice boobs and that crazy pure white snatch had given me about a half a hard-on so I stood up for inspection. She felt it now and stroked it lightly while it rapidly erected the rest of the way. She lifted my balls gently as if to check on their capacity. Then she bent down and planted a small, delicate kiss on the now swelling head of my cock.
"Ummmm, that's just right. Perfect. A little bigger than Jimmy's but not too much so. Yes, I think we're going to fit just beautifully. Unless ... " she blushed suddenly and dropped her eyes.
"Unless what?" I asked.
"Unless you're one of those guys that goes in for anal eroticism, as they call it in the books." She turned a deep crimson from her tits up, just mentioning it.
"I can take it or leave it," I told her, trying to be reassuring.
"Good. For tonight you're gonna leave it. Okay?"
"Okay," I agreed. Now that that was settled, I reached out and pulled her close. At least I tried to. I felt the tip of my cock pressing slightly into something. Looking down, I saw that it was right in her belly button. We both laughed at the crazy look of it. Something about her diminutive body made me feel ten feet tall and very swashbuckling. I swept her light body up into my arms and carried her over to the bunk. She looked so tiny there on the mattress. I'd have to be careful not to crush her.
I suspended myself above her and sucked on those lovely little tits. I could get almost the whole of them in my mouth. The nipples hardened rapidly and her every reaction showed that they were highly sensitive. She grabbed my cock now and guided it into position at the lips of that platinum pussy of hers. She hadn't been kidding about being small down there but fortunately she was very juicy. I couldn't help but think of the contrast between her and the other little one, Adele of the grandiose grocket. Mary here was little girl ... little cunt while Adele was little girl ... all cunt.
I found that I was handling her like a thin china teacup that I was afraid I'd break if I were clumsy. I had eased the head in ever so gently. Now I felt her shoving up to me to try to get more of it inside her. I took the hint and bore down stronger. Her cunt was as tight and hot as Joan Barker's asshole had been a couple of nights ago. This was one little girl you could bugger from the front, so to speak. The firm warm moist pressure that her vaginal walls applied to my swollen prick that was still only halfway in her little cunt felt so sensational that I was afraid I would come before I ever got it all the way in her. I tried to think of something else and hold back. I could feel that this was as great for her as it was for me and I surely didn't want her to be cheated or to feel slighted. It took another three or four minutes of our coordinated efforts before I struck bottom.
I could feel those crazy white cunt hairs tick ling my belly and balls as her firm full little mound ground into my stomach by the top of my fully buried cock. It was so damned tight that now I wondered if I could ever get it out now that we'd gotten it in. I felt a moment of panic as I had a vision of all the other passengers gathering about and turning a water hose on us to get us apart, like they do with dogs. Once it stayed embedded all the way for thirty seconds or so, she seemed to do something which dilated the whole tube so that I could begin to stroke in and out normally. It was still deliriously tight but not uncomfortably so. She wrapped her legs up around my ass and twisted upward so that I seemed to be able to work in even a little deeper now.
She had a sensational cunt. It was hard to think that her husband and others before him had been fucking this little dame for twenty-five years ... since I was four years old ... and yet she was still as tight as a virgin. She reminded me of Kay Anderson. They were the two oldest women I'd ever fucked and yet the tightest and the greatest. I was learning that there was a hell of a lot to be said for older women.
She was so much smaller than I that I was carefully supporting my weight above her on my knees and elbows. Her face came just to my chest. I felt a new experience as she began to lick and suck on my nipples. They hardened and swelled just like a woman's do. It was way out and speeded up the action down below. I was really shoving it to her now with strokes as long as her legs around my ass would allow. She let out a little wailing sound and I felt her tight cunt grasp me even tighter as the orgasm hit her.
I was all the way in and the head of my throbbing prick was buried in that tight sex thimble at the very bottom of her soft pink tunnel. I felt it swell in there now and burst after burst of my hot come spurted forth practically clear down in her uterus. I thought I would never stop coming. My cock felt like a tube of toothpaste that someone was squeezing with both hands until every bit of its contents were forced out of the slotted hole in the cap. I left it in for a long while after the last of my come had flowed. I waited for it to shrink to where it would be easier getting out. This tiny little mite had to be one of the greatest lays in the world. Her husband must be thoroughly spoiled after twenty years of this. I knew he'd love old Kay but I chuckled to think how he'd feel when he fell into that cavernous cunt of Adele's.
For the next hour or so we sat, sipping brandy and talking. She had a delightful sense of humor; seemed to see a funny point in just about everything. She was one of the most thoroughly enjoyable women I have ever visited with. I paid her the supreme compliment by telling her that I would be thoroughly happy spending a night with her even without sex. She was a regular little chatterbox but, unlike so many talkative women, everything she said was interesting.
I was fascinated watching her little cupid's bow mouth while she talked. I began to wonder if it would be as tight as her cunt or if she could even stretch her jaws enough to take my cock inside it. The thought built into an obsession and I finally developed a highly satisfactory erection just thinking about it. This fact did not escape her notice. Watching it twitch and expand held the same fascination for her that looking at her mouth held for me. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off it. Junior could almost feel her eyes on him and this made him swell with pride even more. It finally reached the point that we both realized something would have to be done about it.
"Do you think you could take him in your mouth?" I asked bluntly.
"I don't know. I'm not sure. I do it that way for Jimmy sometimes but you're a little bigger and I can hardly handle his. If you'll go in and wash it real good, I'll try."
"Hell, I can't do that. He shrinks in cold water. Hey, wait a minute, I've got an idea." I poured a little of the brandy in my hand and gave him a spit-bath with it. "There, clean as a whistle."
I grabbed a pillow from the bunk and threw it in front of the chair as I sat down. She curled up between my legs and started stroking it lightly with her fingers. She began licking it tentatively with her tongue, as though checking to see that the brandy had cleaned it enough to eat. Apparently satisfied, she began nibbling lightly on the very tip. She opened that tiny mouth as wide as she could and I felt the heavenly sensation of those soft lips sliding around the spongy mauve-colored head of my now throbbing cock. The inside of her mouth was cool and clean feeling. She kept her tongue darting around the part which she had encased with her lips. After a minute or so of this, she pulled off and turned her face sideways. She ran her tongue and lips up and down the length of the bulging come tube along the bottom side from tip to balls. It was fabulous. Hell, if she couldn't get more than the head of it in her mouth I was sure that she could make me come just doing this. Her finger tips gently tickled my balls as she kept up this sidesaddle ride of my charger. After a few minutes of this, she straightened her head and poised herself with her mouth just an inch above the trembling swollen head of my roaring hard-on. She seemed to be bracing herself to get up her nerve to do something which frightened her.
I watched her, fascinated, as she opened her mouth as wide as she could without splitting her lips. Her jawbones seemed to hinge wide like a snake's. She remained frozen in that attitude for several seconds, like the cliff divers at Acapulco just before leaping into a hundred feet of free fall to the rocky surf below. Now the dye was cast. She plunged down onto my prick, taking fully half its length into that wide stretched mouth on the very first stroke. She slid up and down it rapidly, as though to get in as many strokes as possible before having to come up for air. Her mouth and the entrance to her throat were as tight as her precious little cunt. Even as strained as she was, I could feel her teeth scraping me a bit but not painfully so.
After six or seven rapid strokes, each of which took in a little more than the last, she pulled off it gasping for breath. She took in and ex haled about four lung full, then poised herself again arid plunged down on me. This time she managed to take in about two-thirds of it and again the long fast strokes going just a little farther down the stiff staff each time. Again she came up for air, poised and dove. Now she had three-quarters of my swollen, trembling prick in that cool wet well. I knew that I couldn't take much more of this. It was the tightest blow job I've ever had and wildly thrilling. I did not want to come just as she had to come up for air so I exercised every bit of willpower I could muster to hold back and time it properly. She slid off again and took a few fast gulps of breath. This time she made it almost all the way down. On the second stroke I grabbed her head and forced it down to the very base as I blasted jet after jet of hot jism deep down in her tight throat. She gulped and swallowed and struggled against my grip to pull up but I held her hard down on it until the last drop had flowed. I knew she was about to gag and choke but she held it down like a real trooper and managed to swallow every drop I had given her. Then I released her head which she raised slowly off my spent shaft.
She looked up at me, still swallowing hard, with a breathless little smile. "There, I did it you you. For a couple of moments there I didn't think I could go through with it but I'm glad that I did. Once I got started I wanted to go the full route for you." She was obviously proud of her accomplishment and I lavished her with compliments on the artistry of her performance.
We decided to celebrate our mutual satisfaction now with yet another glass of brandy. Her conversation still stimulated me, even more so since the cute little cupid's bow mouth had just taken in my full load of manly fluids. We continued to drink and talk for another hour.
I began to feel a little guilty that she had gone to such lengths to satisfy my wants and I had not, as yet, reciprocated. I relinquished my chair to her and assumed her position in front of it on the pillow on the deck. Her legs were spread, as mine had been and for several minutes I feasted my eyes on the sight of that little open cunt surrounded with the pure white collar of hair. On close inspection it looked so ridiculously small for a woman of her age.
I dipped my fingers into the brandy and spit bathed her the same way I had myself, being careful not to let any of the burning fluid get into that silken slit of hers. Then I lowered my face to her sex and licked and sucked at the precious crevice of her womanhood. I found that my mouth could embrace all of that tiny cunt at one time and the mere difference between her and the other women I had known fascinated me. I licked at that velvet valley from clitoris to asshole as she squirmed and ground beneath my lips. I slid my tongue as deeply as I could into her vulva and extracted a nectar of pure ambrosia, mixed with the heavy flavor of the brandy with which I had bathed it. She warmed rapidly to my oral attentions and pressed it tightly to my mouth as I latched onto the ridiculously small clit and licked, sucked and chewed until she shuddered as I slid a finger into her soft wet cunt and felt it grasp around me as she went through the delightful agonies of a perfect orgasm.
We piled into the lower bunk a short time later and fell asleep in each other's arms. I felt like a child again, clutching at a small teddy bear, as I drifted off into dreamland.
We awakened at almost the same moment and discovered my trusty dawn patrol already flying high. She was as determined as I that my morning monument should not go to waste. I mounted her tiny form and slowly urged my way deeper into that tight tunnel of love of hers.
This morning there was none of the mad urgency that we had felt in possessing each other the night before so we went at it very slowly and gently. Now we were able to savor the sensuous thrill of each inch as I descended deeper and deeper into that warm, wet little compression chamber of hers.
We fucked slowly and sweetly for a full fifteen minutes before our emotional ears heard the whistles and horns that told us that the parade was nearly over. She came a few seconds before I did and I felt the juices ooze around my buried knob just before I exploded and burst in the very depths of her body. Oh God, what a come we had together. She had to be the greatest ever!
I was getting used to my daily reports to Dr. Evans now and they no longer embarrassed me. I found that I could talk quite freely. He was pleased to know that my thrills were all physical and erotically emotional but there was no remote connotation of love involved. He told me that I was becoming sexually mature.
Late that afternoon we all gathered on deck to catch the first glimpse of the shores of Eng land. The vibrations beneath decks increased as the powerful turbines were revved up to half speed to fight the currents of the North Sea and the English Channel flowing into the Atlantic as we approached the Thames Estuary.
Tomorrow we would spend in London, but there was still tonight ahead of us before disembarking on our first foreign soil. In the envelope pool that evening I drew the name of Lila Andrews. I knew that she was a divorcee, my own age, who had come aboard for reasons close to my own. She was a big, auburn-haired girl, about five foot nine and heavily endowed with all of the feminine equipment. I wasted no time after dinner getting to cabin number seven.
When I walked into her cabin, Lila stood before me wearing a gorgeous gold lame gown. The light reflected every exciting curve of her voluptuous form. Her cornflower blue eyes seemed to never stop smiling. She was a vision of loveliness indeed; and for tonight, she was all mine. I couldn't help but emit a low wolf whistle as I saw her in that outfit. She smiled broadly at the obvious compliment.
"The zipper is in the back," she taunted, "but you're first." She started to undress me almost before I had lowered my large suitcase to the deck of her cabin. Her long, tapering fingers did a silent concerto as they ran over my body, un buttoning buttons, unfastening my belt and un zipping zippers. Soon I stood naked before her while her eyes gave me a head-to-foot appraisal in that smiling way of theirs. At last she seemed to give me the final nod of approval. Turning around, she backed toward me. "Unzip me," she ordered.
I ran the zipper down through the shiny metallic material all the way from the nape of her neck to the crevice of her buttocks. When it reached the bottom, I urged the garment forward over her shoulders and helped her worm out of the tight sleeves. The garment fell around her feet and she stepped delicately out of it. Her back was still to me. She had the most beautiful ass I've ever seen. I got a hard-on just looking at it. Even her back was beautiful; the formation of her muscles and all of the other anterior features were perfect. She was in no hurry to turn around and face me. I guess she wanted to give me plenty of time to check out the rear view first.
When she finally turned and faced me, I couldn't help but take in a little gasp of air. During the last week I had been subjected to the sight of some rather attractive female bodies, but this had to be the most beautiful female form this side of the Louvre. She was not unaware of her bodily perfection. She stood, posing for several moments as my eyes ran up and down that gorgeous frame. She had tits that would have made the Venus de Milo hide her face ... if she had arms. Her legs put all of the Rockettes to shame and the reddish-brown venereal verdure at the base of her belly glistened in the cabin light like the reddish-brown autumn leaves of the giant maples in Vermont on a sunny October afternoon. The perfection of her form was un believable. I was awestruck by the vision of loveliness which my eyes beheld. I was so stunned by such a display of sheer feminine sexuality that I was unable to make a move. Junior was not so inhibited and arose rapidly to the occasion in a very physical expression of her abundant charms. She had the kind of a body that radioed only one message to a man; "Come and fuck me." I was not deaf to the message.
When I embraced her, the touch of her flesh inflamed mine like an induction furnace. I don't believe I've ever been so hot for a woman in my life, so anxious to possess her. She was well aware of her charms and there was a bit of the tease in her personality. She broke from my hungry grasp and did a little nymph dance around the small cabin. My turgid cock damn near shot its first load just watching her naked body waltz around before me.
I finally grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. I felt the thrilling contact of those tits against my chest and the head of my cock snuggled into that full muff of hers. My hands clutched at the beauteous cheeks of her ass and dragged her closer to me as my lips sought hers in a soul kiss that almost melted my toenails. Goddamn, but she was a hot piece of merchandise!
My hands reluctantly left those full, fleshy buttocks and rose to her ponderous tits. It was all they could do to encase them. I used both hands to cup one and raise it to where my mouth could encompass the rosy nipple and cover the circle of color that surrounded it. I was learning fast now and had discovered that tits, like cunts, can have a flavor of their own. Hers were in describably delicious. I wanted to suck and chew on them forever. They reminded me of a luscious pair of banana splits with cherries at the top.
I fell to my knees before this sex goddess and buried my face in that soft triangle of auburn hair. The sweet, feminine aroma of her sex as sailed my nostrils and I wanted to smother myself in that furry furrow. I used my fingers to part her outer vaginal lips enough to bestow a kiss of promise upon the soft sweetness that they enclosed.
We burrowed quickly between the cool sheets of the bunk and I was upon her in an instant; nor did she fight, for a moment, my manly assault upon the citadel of her womanhood. I urged the now swollen purple head of my aroused man hood between the soft lips of her vagina and bore down with a ferocity born of pure, unvarnished passion. Oh, my God, her insides were so hot and juicy. I tore into them like a tiger and within moments I felt my balls caress the lower vee of her slippery quim. Those tits dug into my hairy chest and it was like dunking my dickey into a warm, most slice of heaven. Keerist, what a cunt she had!
Lila and I fucked slowly and deliberately for some ten to twelve minutes before I realized that I could go not a step farther with her. I felt guilty because I was afraid that I was going to pop my cork before she did. Everything worked out just fine though and we came at the same time. It was like great and for those wondrous moments when I was pouring out my white juices inside of her, she became the only woman on the face of the earth to me.
Lila confessed to me later that she had divorced her husband because he was not content with her cunt alone. He wanted her mouth and her ass, but she couldn't see it that way. I could hardly blame him for wanting to cornhole that fantastic ass of hers but on the other hand, there was enough, just normally, to keep the average man happy. She was a great lay.
Later I tried to get her to go down on me but she would have none of it. I attempted a little muff-diving on her but she shoved me away in a "no-nonsense" manner. All she was interested in was straight fucking and with a body like hers, that was quite a bit to offer any man. When we finally went to sleep she shoved those beautiful buttocks up to my cock. During the night I tried to work my way between them but, even in her sleep, she resisted me violently. I finally gave up.
In the morning I made her get up and parade around the cabin to delight my eyes. My prick was already ready so this was just a mental exercise. Her body was like a statue of Venus brought to life. When she finally climbed back into the bunk I was delighted just to slip it to her and pump away in that sweet slit until we both exploded again in a frothing mutual orgasm. My limp cock was covered with it when I slid it from her creamy cunt. My God, but we were a juicy pair of lovers! I went to the little head and brought her back a towel. Then we took a salty shower and joined the others in. the dining salon.
Everyone aboard seemed to be up and in a high state of excitement. The throbbing of the decks beneath us had ceased now since the engines had been turned off, as we were tied up at India Wharf among the London docks. After breakfast the immigration men came aboard and after they had looked at our passports we all clambered down the gangplank and hopped aboard the large chartered bus that took us on a typical sightseeing trip of London. At noon it pulled up in front of Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese and we had lunch while the guides pointed out the booth in which Shakespeare had written much of his works. Once lunch was over we were driven over and dropped off for several free hours at Sheppards' Market. This, we were told, was the streetwalkers' headquarters in London. It was a bright sunny day but most of the young girls I encountered were wearing raincoats. I soon learned that this was the local version of a "For Sale" sign. The local shops featured porno graphic material of every type.
Just for laughs and a suitable souvenir, I bought a replica of a Victorian era sex whip and a large dildo with canvas straps. The local bulletin boards were something else. They held small cards advertising every type of debauchery that the human mind could dream of. A few of the local whores were good-looking lasses and I was tempted, but I was hardly starved for sex at this point. Also, I determined to save my strength for what had been scheduled for tonight. Instead I bought a fancy postcard, addressed it to Margaret and posted it with one of those huge British stamps.
At five-thirty we were all herded back onto the chartered bus, after spending some time locating a few errant male members of the group. A little after six we parked near a very nice pub-restaurant on the west side of London. We had cocktails and gorged ourselves on magnificent roast beef. I really loaded on the food, knowing what was planned for later. A little before eight the bus pulled up to a sedate residence about two miles from Piccadilly. There was no sign but I knew that this was the infamous Fanny Hill Club.
Martha and Lila were near me now and I explained that Fanny Hill was the heroine of an eighteenth-century novel which depicted a simple girl's entry into the field of prostitution of that era. Although there is not a single four letter or sexy word in the entire text, it is credited with being the first of the modern "dirty books."
The lovely old house into which we were escorted could, to all appearances, have been Number Ten Downing Street. Nothing could have appeared more staid or proper on the surface. We were led up a long, gracefully curved stairway that might have been the personal work of Sir Christopher Wren and escorted into a large room. It was undoubtedly once the main drawing room of the luxurious town house. Now it had been converted into a small theatre. A raised stage at the front of the room was draped with a red velvet curtain. We did not have long to wait. Five minutes later a young man, dressed in the velvets and frills of two centuries past, strode to the center of the small stage and announced that this small tableau would depict the sex life of medieval England.
The first act showed the various methods of torture inflicted upon the British maidens in the tenth century in order to force them to submit to the lustful desires of the conquering hordes. There were brief scenes of whipping posts and other forms of female flagellations and one young actress was forced, naked, into the dreaded iron maiden which was slowly forced closed while she pleaded with her tormentors to stop and use her body in any way that pleased them. There was a series of tableaux showing the captive women placed in torture racks and de vices which were designed to inflict unbearable physical pain while exposing their sex regions to the full use and satisfaction of their tormentors. There was even a bit of comic relief in a brief skit which depicted a returning Crusader, hornier than hell, who had lost the key to his maiden's chastity belt. His plight was relieved only when it developed that the girl had been carrying on a four-year affair with the local locksmith.
The second act of the little drama still showed a certain amount of physical torture and whip pings for the sake of achieving sex, but this depicted the wealthy lords and barons and land owners as the culprits and the scullery and chambermaids as the victims. Without exception, the villainous male achieved his evil purposes in the end.
The final act depicted sex during the gaslight era in a highly civilized London. The desires of the lecherous males were not much different from the Norman conquerors, but their approach to the same ends was somewhat different. Now the lure of money replaced the inducement of torture. Some of the things that happened beneath those flickering gaslights of an earlier age were quite astounding. Plural sex was much in vogue and the audience was treated to the sight of a young girl satisfying the sexual needs of three men at once. Even bestiality was not excluded from the complete program.
After the performance when the lights came up various members of our group had contracted for certain further entertainment. A few of the men wanted a shot at the girls in the house and most of the girls were escorted to comfortable seats behind one-way mirrors to watch the various patrons who were paying professional visits upon the females employed there. I wondered if any precautions had been taken to ascertain that the wife of one of our group was not behind the one-way mirror of a boudoir where her husband was being serviced.
Dr. Evans called me aside and took me in to meet a nameless middle-aged woman who acted as the madam. She escorted me to a large boudoir, strictly illuminated by gaslight and instructed me to remove my clothes while she fetched her number one girl. Ten minutes later, as I stood stupidly under the flickering lights of the gas chandelier, she returned leading a girl in a mid-eighteenth-century costume. Her ample bosom seemed to be supported on a shelf beneath a lace bodice. Her waist was nipped in to spider proportions while her bulbous buttocks protruded like some huge bustle. Her skirts trailed the floor and long sleeves buttoned tightly at her wrists. Only the top half of her tits were exposed, almost down to the tops of the nipple circles. She was introduced as Miss Fanny Hill. Looking her up and down, I had to admit that the Fanny part seemed genuine enough. As soon as the madam had left us alone, I approached her.
" 'Old it a sec, guvnor, don't do nothin' to hurt me costume. Madem'll kill me. Jest 'old yer 'orses a minute while I get the bloody thing off."
Getting out of the "bloody thing" turned out to be a major project. It had six petticoats and full-length pantaloons. There were buttons and snaps till hell wouldn't have them. The costume looked to me like an eighteenth-century birth control device. By the time she got out of it, I was on the verge of saying to hell with it all. Any charge of rape against the men of those days would have been utterly ludicrous. When she had finally shed it all, I wondered if it were worth the effort. Her body could most kindly be described as "ample." I have seen better-looking figures on snowmen. She was a compilation of globs of baby fat. I was about as anxious to fuck her as I was to trim my toenails.
Waddling over to a closet, she opened it and returned carrying two switches made of hickory sticks. She handed one to me. I looked at her fat little body like she was some kind of nut. I was on the verge of getting dressed and getting out of this funny farm before a little man in a white coat came around with a butterfly net. Before I could make up my mind to move, she swatted me across the ass with the hickory switch. It stung like the bites of a hundred ants.
It made me mad as Bell so I raised my switch and swacked her fat rump as hard as I could. She let out a little delighted scream and switched me again. We kept this up until it looked like somebody had sandpapered both of our asses raw.
The insanity of the situation must have been contagious, because, as angry as I was becoming at the stupidity of the little game this chubby broad wanted to play, I looked down and noticed that I was getting a hell of an erection. While my attention was distracted to this new development, she swatted me across the chest with her damned switch. What the hell was with this cunt anyway? She was really beginning to piss me off now. I slashed her across the bare tits with my switch, not once but three or four times. Little red crisscross lines came up on the milk white flesh like a roadmap. She sobbed a little but never cried out.
Looking down for the first time at my swelling cock, she lashed away at it with her stupid switch. It felt like a million crabs biting me at once. Instead of shrinking back to safety, the fool thing got even bigger and harder. She switched it again and then again. That did it! I started attacking her lower tummy and right in the middle of her hairy pussy with my switch. The little red lines came to the surface. She tripped over a low stool as she retreated from my attack and her legs went wide apart. I brought the switch down right between them not once, but in a series of blows. Regaining her balance she went back to work on my now fully erect cock with her hickory twigs. It was virtually on fire and I returned blow for blow.
At last she dropped the switch and crawled over to me on her hands and knees. She licked away the blood that was trickling here and there on and around my tortured cock. Then she slipped it into the cool and tender healing com fort of her mouth. When she pulled away I did the same thing to her and licked and sucked away the blood. Something about it all was wildly exciting. I had such a hard-on that I thought it would burst out of its skin like an overstuffed sausage. She pulled me to her and as I felt it slide into that moist cunt all of the hurt and the sting went away. I came in her cunt almost instantly but my hard-on stayed up until I fucked her and then came twice more. It was wild and nutty, but like wow!
Later I licked all of the little trickles of blood off her tits and kissed and sucked them. So this was the flagellation I'd heard so much about. Now I had tried it but I still viewed it with mixed emotions. After we had rested awhile, Fanny went back to the closet. This time she returned with a pair of small whips. By now I knew the rules and the prizes of the game so I went along with her as we went about whipping each other with increasing ferocity. I could hardly believe what was happening. I had just had a triple come but within minutes that damn whip across my butt and around my cock and balls had raised another raring to go erection.
I applied my whip to her snatch and forced her to spread her legs while I whipped her ass hole and the tender lips of her cunt. Each time the whip lashed her I found my cock getting harder and then, when she whipped it or my balls, it nearly burst. I grabbed her upraised whip hand now and forced her back onto a low couch and fucked the hell out of her. My poor prick was bleeding and throbbing with pain and this made the soft insides of her cunt seem even more tender and soothing. When I came it was not like the normal relief of sexual tensions; it was like the end of the world.
We did a number of other things to each other that night. Some involved leather straps, ropes and chemicals. They were all wildly insane but before I left Fanny Hill, I must have come twelve times and poured out a quart of semen. When she helped my tortured body back into my clothes, as dawn lighted the room better than the gaslight had, I was a bloody mess, but I had never felt so thoroughly sexually satiated in my life. I just hoped that she hadn't dry balled me to a point where I couldn't enjoy the rest of the cruise. All the rest of our party had left when I struggled down to the lobby. I sought out the madam and offered to pay my bill. She told me it had already been taken care of and then called me a cab to transport my scarred, bleeding body back to India Wharf and the comparative safety of the boat.
We set sail late that afternoon. Our big white yacht looked strangely out of place among the gray and rusty freighters that filled the Thames. I don't know about the other passengers, but I was glad to feel the vibration of the powerful turbines. For my part I had had a bellyful of British sex ... at least, eighteenth-century style. The discharges it produced were mammoth in deed, but I really wondered if the ends justified the means.
We were out in the open water of the English Channel by dinner time. I knew, of course, that we would play the envelope game again, but sexy a guy as I am, I was ready to pass for tonight.
Fanny Hill, as they called her, had taken a hell of a lot out of me in more ways than one.
Despite my personal thoughts, I was dealt one of the fatal little sealed-up cards. I stared at it for long minutes before I even picked it up. When I did I read the name Arline Magistrate in Number 11. I thought to myself that this was where I had come in. I knew by now that Arline Magistrate was the first of my fellow passengers I had met at the bar at Dr. Evans' that first night. She was the "orgasm seeker." I really didn't feel up to that tonight, so I stayed behind while the other men ran off to find their play mates. I drank a lot more brandy than is my usual capacity.
Dr. Evans was still at the head of the table. He kept surveying me over the top of his thick glasses, then reached over and looked at the name on the card. I thought I saw him shudder slightly as he read it. "May I offer a bit of un asked for advice, Bob?" he asked quietly.
"Of course, Doctor. Right now I feel like I could use all the advice I can get. I had one hell of a crazy night last night. I'm dead on my feet and drained dry. I don't know that I'm quite up to Miss Little Never Come tonight."
"Perhaps, as a result of last night, you are readier than anyone aboard. Do you remember the effects that the girl called Fanny had on you last night? Oh, you needn't look shocked. I watched you the whole time through one of those one-way mirrors. Nobody else did, just me.
"I shouldn't tell you this, but Arline still hasn't had an orgasm. Too bad ... she's really a wonderful girl. Most of the men have been too considerate of her. Perhaps you can apply some of the new techniques you picked up from Fanny last night. Just a suggestion, you understand."
"You mean that I should ... " I couldn't even say it, but I got the implication of his suggestion. For some reason I was mad at the world right now and the idea kinda grabbed me. I got up from the table, a bit unsteadily, I'll admit and strode purposefully forward to cabin number 11.
I didn't knock, I practically tore the door off the hinges getting in. Arline was sitting there looking demure and bored with it all in a pair of pajamas that might well have been a man's. I stood at the door, looking down on her. I knew what Dr. Evans had meant. Now she was the slave girl and I was the master. "Take those stupid things off immediately," I barked.
"Are you drunk, Bob?" she asked in that con descending tone of hers.
"Drunk or sober, either you take them off in the next five seconds or I'll rip them off your skinny frame." I tried to sound like Humphrey Bogart.
She stared at me for just a moment. She must have figured I was for real. She undid the buttons on the jacket and slipped it off. It sure as hell didn't reveal a whole hell of a lot, as far as a woman was concerned.
"The bottoms too and make it quick!" I growled it out like a Nazi major.
She untied the pajama string and let the pants fall to her ankles. Stepping out of one leg, she kicked with the other, tossing the pants over to the other side of the cabin, then stood before me, stark naked. She was a pretty sorry excuse for a female. My cock didn't even give a twitch of interest as I surveyed her thin frame.
"Now come over here and undress me, and make it snappy," I ordered. My eyes were like steel as I watched her. She moved over close and unbuttoned my shirt and slid it over my shoulders. She hesitated a little at my slacks, but I kept fixing her with that look and soon she got them off and my shorts after them. I kicked my shoes aside and glared at her.
"Have you found that perfect orgasm you were looking for yet?" I demanded. I knew the answer but wanted her to admit it.
"No, I haven't and I think you're mean to rub my nose in the fact."
"I'll rub more than your nose in it before this night is over," I warned her. "Do you still want to have an orgasm?"
"More than anything else in the world," she admitted quietly.
I walked over to my pants on the back of the chair and removed my wallet. I found a fifty dollar bill and let it float to the floor at her feet. She stared as it fell like an autumn leaf. "Fifty says I'll make you come. Provided you keep your yap shut and go along with me. You want to cover the bet?"
We stood there, stark naked, sizing each other up. She may have figured I was some kind of nut, but she patronized me. She found her purse and took out two twenties and a ten. She dropped them on the floor next to my fifty.
"Is it really that important to you to have an orgasm? Do you think it's worth that much? If I win, I'll keep your money, you know. But, re member, no matter what I do to you, you aren't to make a sound. Can you agree to that?"
She agreed. Then she stood there looking very thin and frail and cold. I looked at her, flat chested body with a mixture of disgust and pity, but she had agreed, so I was committed.
I walked back to the chair on which my clothes hung and slowly removed my leather belt from my slacks. She watched me with eyes like saucers. "Turn around and bend over," I ordered.
She responded like a robot. I raised the belt and brought it down hard across her thin but tocks. She winced but kept quiet. As I raised it for the second blow, the mark of the first rose red and clear on the soft cheeks of her ass. I lashed down again. I kept at it until her ass looked like a piece of raw meat. On the last strokes, she had begun to squirm and grind. I reached down to her and turned her around. She had to stand, her rear was hamburger meat. I slashed her across the stomach and the chest where her tits should have been, if she'd had any. I worked my way down slowly and slapped the leather right into her cunt. She winced and moaned but she didn't scream or cry out.
When I made her bend over and spread her legs and slapped right in between them she fin ally looked up at me and said, "That's enough. No more, please. I'm ready."
"All right then, crawl over here and suck my cock," I barked.
She did as I had ordered, obeying meekly. I would bet that she'd never had a cock in her mouth till then.
Finally I shoved her away and knocked her flat to the deck. My cock was hard and excited from the action and I drove it into her without the slightest consideration for her feelings. I rammed into her sore cunt like a bull. Within minutes I felt her thrusting back and responding to me. I knew now that I was going to win the bet. I reached under her and shoved a finger roughly up her ass. She was really raising it up to me now and I pumped that meat to her without mercy. After about five minutes of this torturous, abusive treatment she was lunging that ass up to me like life itself depended upon it. I bent down now and bit her hard on first one nipple, then the other. The nipples were about all she had on her chest. She was really with it now as I kept socking that meat to her as hard and rough as I could.
Finally her head fell to one side. Her eyes were way back in her skull and she let out a little scream that was almost silent. Her whole body shuddered and trembled like we were having a six-point earthquake, then I felt that dead little cunt of hers come to life as it clutched and grasped at my buried prick while she experienced her first real orgasm. She grabbed me and kissed me and kept fucking me wildly. After a minute or so, I came a little in her cunt. She felt it and hit her second orgasm. My God, she was like a woman possessed. At last she fell away from under me, gasping and sobbing, "Oh, good God, I did it ... I finally did it ... after all these years, I finally came!"
This, on top of Fanny's treatment last night damn near killed me. I crawled across the deck on my hands and knees and picked up the hundred dollars. I shoved it in my pants pocket. I had earned it the hard way. With the last strength I could muster, I crawled into the top bunk and fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
All the next day we cruised northward in the North Sea, heading for our second sex capital, Copenhagen, Denmark, the birthplace of modern free sex. But we would have another night before reaching port.
My card that night called for Helen Scott, number 4. Mrs. Scott was divorced, aged forty eight. She was a stately gray-haired woman whom one would think of as anything but sexy. She was rather a forbidding-looking woman and another one who was almost old enough to be my mother. To be honest, I was a little afraid of her. Perhaps I feared that she would put me across her knee and spank me.
When I walked in Helene was wearing a long black satin robe. Her silvery hair was neatly arranged and her makeup was fresh. It wasn't her nature to be the smiling type, but she greeted me pleasantly enough and immediately suggested that I strip. I had a funny feeling like I had been asked to take off all my clothes in front of a maiden aunt. She noticed my hesitation and asked, "Would it make you feel more comfortable if I took off this robe first?"
I nodded my head, dumbly, indicating that it would and she pulled off the heavy robe. The aging processes that had grayed her hair had not yet caught up with her luscious body. I stood there stupidly gaping at her. Her tits were large and fairly firm. The nipples and the aureoles that surrounded them were sort of a dusty rose color. Her tummy showed no signs of sagging flesh and the big muff of hair that covered her Venus mound was as black as the ace of spades. If you could have covered her gray head, you would have taken her for twenty-five to thirty. She had one hell of a body for an old broad. Once more I was learning to respect my elders in the female sex department.
I took off my clothes rather clumsily, while I stared at her body. When at last my cock came into view, she gave a little gasp of delight. We just looked at each other for a few moments like a pair of wrestlers wondering what hold to try first. When she spoke to me, it was like a school teacher addressing an errant child. There was a certain matter-of-fact tone to her voice that let you know that, no matter what, she was in control.
I knew that the overbearing attitude I had used to make Arline achieve her virgin orgasms last night would not work on this lovely iceberg. It was a very plain implication in her very attitude that she wanted sex with me but entirely on her terms. Her terms might be better than I bargained for, so I decided I might as well hear them. I had gotten all of the dominant male approach out of my system last night.
"Helene, you look like you have some pretty definite ideas. Perhaps they are not far afield from my own. Rather than grope around in the dark with each other don't you think it might be best if you were to tell me right here and now what you prefer to receive from me?"
"Robert, you appear to be wise beyond your years. It is not easy for a young man to ask an older woman what she wants sexually. I admire your guts, as they say today. In a way it is harder for me to answer your frank question than it was for you to ask it. You surely have a capacity for putting the shoe on the other foot, because now I'm the one who is embarrassed."
"Helene, I see no reason for either of us to be embarrassed by honesty. After all, look at the circumstances which have brought us together. If we can accept those circumstances, how can we possibly claim to be embarrassed by anything that goes along with them?"
"I think I like you, Robert. You have a nice way of getting rid of all the mish-mosh and looking the facts right in the eye. Okay, I will talk frankly to you about my personal needs. That's more than I've been able to do with any of the so-called men I've been thrown with on this crazy cruise so far."
"Thank you, Helene. I shall respect your confidences. Please talk frankly to me."
"You are a nice boy. I'll admit that I am a little embarrassed to talk about this in what I have always regarded as 'gutter language.' There does, however, come a time when basic English loses something in the translation, doesn't it?"
"Yes, I think I know what you mean. Please feel free to tell it to me the way you feel it."
"All right, you dear boy, if I falter in my de livery of my thoughts, please bear with me. Some of these words do not fall easily from my lips. Will you promise to be patient with me?"
"Of course, Helene. Your secrets are safe with me. If there is something special you want to tell me, please feel free to do so. After all, for the moment, I am here only for the purposes of your pleasure. Doesn't that relieve your mind?"
"Well, to put my feelings in the basic English that your generation seems to understand, I'll have to put it very crudely. You are a very attractive young man. The genitals you are revealing to my view now are superb. I am sure that your sex fluids are both plentiful and potent. We must not waste them. You may have intercourse with me in my vagina ... even in my rectum, if that is to your liking, but you must promise to withdraw before reaching your climax." From her manner of speech I perceived that she either was or had been a schoolteacher.
"You mean you want me to pull out before I come? If you're so afraid why not provide your men with condoms?" I was stunned by her suggestion, under the circumstances of our meeting.
"My dear, sweet boy, that is not the point at all. I am not the least bit worried about getting pregnant. I just cannot stand to think of your delicious semen being delivered into either of those unappreciative orifices. As soon as you withdraw, I intend to take your beautiful young penis in my mouth and extract its sweet juices so that I may revel in their intoxicating flavor and bouquet. Will you promise to humor me this way, my dear?"
A guy wouldn't be much of a gentleman if he refused a lady's request to suck off his cock, so I agreed. Then she came to me. The feel of those tits pressing my chest and that hairy mound grinding up against my cock got me off to an early start. Her lips were soft and sweet and her tongue was exploring my mouth like it was checking for cavities. Goddamn, if she could suck like she could kiss, I had a real winner tonight!
She kept grinding that pussy up against me and I was rapidly arising to the occasion. She never stopped kissing me for a second while she reached down and guided my prick between her thighs, which she spread slightly and then closed trapping me between the soft loins. She went into a little grinding, bumping dance then, like a burlesque stripper in slow motion. The tender flesh between her legs was rolling back and forth over my stiff cock and actually stroking him to even further expansion. When she seemed satisfied with her results, she reached down and opened her thighs again. Now she guided the hot purple knob into her furred slit. She rubbed it all the way up and down the moist trench and finally urged it between the tender lips of her vagina. Removing her hand now she pressed closer, working my cock into her warm, wet vulva. She placed her hands on my buttocks and pulled me firmly to her as she pressed up to me, belly to belly. This was no mere precoital loveplay for arousal purposes. This handsome-looking old broad with the hang up for head actually wanted to fuck standing up! Not even leaning against a wall, but right out in the middle of the floor. Oh, well, whatever's fair. To each his own and all that jazz. But chalk up another first for Robert Robinson, Esq.
I had it all the way in now. I could see a number of advantages to this standing fuck position. We were both completely free to move our hips and any other parts of our bodies. I ran my hands from her buttocks up her back and around to her lovely tits. I gently pinched and toyed with the nipples, then bent down and kissed and sucked on them without breaking or even straining our lower contact. I knew that she had a main purpose in mind also. She didn't know if she could trust me to pull out in time. This was the only position in which she could break the contact by merely taking a backward step.
On a sudden whim I took her hand in a dancing position and placed my arm on her back. We did a little waltz step around the small cabin as we kept my prick firmly embedded in her warm moist cunt. When we tired of this, we just stood still and I tried to see how long a stroke we could take without losing it. It was beginning to feel awfully good now and I guess it was to her too.
"Aren't you about ready?" she asked suddenly, hardly removing those wondrous lips from mine as she spoke.
"Yes, I guess I'd better stop fucking you right now ... while I still can stop." I pressed it in real tight once more and then very slowly with drew my saber from her velvet scabbard. It was one of the hardest things I had ever had to do.
The very second that the tip left the lips of her pussy, she fell to her knees and swooped it into her mouth. My swollen cock that was wet with her cunt juice wasn't exposed to the air for more than a second. She slipped her lips all the way down the shaft. She had no difficulty in sucking me into her mouth, ball deep. She ran those soft tender lips up and down the entire length of my staff while her tongue did an incessant little dance and seemed to home in on every nerve center I had. The cool dampness of her mouth and throat were a stimulating contrast to the hot wetness of her cunt. She was going at it hot and heavy now, giving me the greatest head I've ever had. You can always tell when a woman really wants to go down on you and enjoys sucking your cock, rather than feeling that she is per forming a duty or doing you a big favor.
I watched her down there at work on my prick, when I caught momentary glimpses of it as she pulled her head off to the very tip and then it disappeared inside her lips again. She was loving every moment of it. Her hands had been fondling my balls, but now she ran them back and grabbed the cheeks of my ass. She pulled me deeper and deeper into that lovely mouth and way down into her throat. Her tongue flicked out and tickled my swollen balls. She pulled back up the shaft ever so slowly while her tongue seemed to be painting barber-pole stripes so carefully around it. She came all the way off it this time and gave the glands and the entire length of my urethral tube a thorough tongue massage. Tongue tickling her way back up from my balls, she slipped the purplish spongy head in her mouth and chewed softly on it before sliding those delicate lips forward on their ecstatic journey to the very base of my root.
Her educated tongue checked the progress of my mounting fever as accurately as a thermometer. As I rapidly neared the crisis, she knew within a second when I was about to come. She did not want it deep in her throat, as most women do. She backed off until only the head and a little beyond was in her mouth. She tickled the frenum rhythmically with her tongue as the glands swelled inside her lips and I nearly lost my standing balance from dizziness as I blew a mammoth load of boiling come into the sweet tenderness of her damp mouth. Her tongue kept urging it on for more, while her hands patted me gently on the ass, as though to say, "There, there, that's a good boy."
This was no run-of-the-mill come that I poured forth inside her demanding lips ... it was a major flood! She loved every drop of it as she went after it like a glutinous gourmet. I could feel her tongue rubbing it in between her teeth and into her gums so that she could savor the taste of my come for hours. Only when I had gone completely limp in her mouth did she release me from the velvet trap of those soft lips.
This had to have been the head job of the century! It was sheer artistic perfection. From start to finish, there was not one single little de tail that could possibly have been improved upon. She got up and gave me a big hug. Her voice sounded like she had a mouthful of mush as she mumbled, "Here, see how delicious you are." With this she kissed me and her tongue pressed a small quantity of my unswallowed come into my mouth.
Never having had the slightest interest in homosexuality, this was my first contact with the flavor of male semen. It constituted another first in my sex-education program. The taste was by no means unpleasant. I had thought that there might be a urinelike taste to it, something like the kidney pie that the British seem so fond of, but there was none of this. It was rather bland and vaguely saline. There was a distinct flavor but unlike anything else. It reminded me somehow of seaweed and creamed almond meats. I studied the handsome woman before me who was so hooked on this delicacy that she considered it wasted on her cunt. She was highly intelligent and obviously well-bred. The taste must be an acquired one like oysters. I have friends that can eat four or five dozen of the slimy things. I gag on two. Like the feller says, "There's no accounting for taste."
Helene Scott did not seem disposed to talk at this point. She was too busy concentrating on her slow ingestion of the ball brandy I had distilled for her pleasure. I lit a cigarette and studied her. She had been nineteen years old when I was born. She had probably had several affairs by then. I suspected that she hadn't been an especially pretty girl. Maybe that's why she started sucking cocks; to insure her social popularity and acceptance. She looked to be the type of woman who had improved with age. You could not call her beautiful. Stately and handsome, that was it. For a forty-eight-year-old woman, her figure was superb. Bodywise, she could have passed for twenty-two. I knew that she was divorced. I wondered if her peculiar addiction to the male sperm could have had anything to do with the separation from her husband. It would have been ironic if a woman with her superb talent for fellatio had married one of those rare weirdos who object to having a female go down on them. Oh, well, it was no skin off my ass in any event. I snuffed out my cigarette.
She was seated on the edge of the bunk, leaning back supported by the palms of her hands extended behind her. The slight backstretch pulled and raised her chest, doing wonderful things for those uppermost regions of her pubic hairs were exposed to view. The expression on her face left no doubt that her mind was in her mouth.
It seemed terribly unfair that, after having taken me on such a fabulous flight of erotic de light, she had not experienced the needed emotional sedation of orgasmic relief. I walked over before her. Her eyes were closed to further concentrate on the ecstasy her palate was experiencing. I stood there looking down on her lovely form for long moments. I lifted the leg that was crossed over the other and lowered it to the deck. Spreading them gently apart, I sat between them and guided my mouth to the very apex of the hairy triangle right before my face. She neither resisted nor cooperated as my tongue and lips traveled over the expanses of her genital valley. From the lack of reaction I was getting I gathered that Helene Scott subscribed to the philosophy of life that it is more blessed to give than to receive.
I felt a little hurt that my efforts weren't producing any noticeable response. While rave re views may have been few and far between I have never received any complaints or even criticisms of my performance of cunnilingus. While I make no claims of being the world's greatest cunt lapper, my humble efforts have always proven adequate to produce the desired results.
Helene was proving to be somewhat of a challenge. Normally I might have adopted the attitude that "if at first you don't succeed, to hell with it," but I was determined to repay her to the best of my ability for the beautiful experience she had given me. I went at my chosen task with renewed vigor. Finally, deep in her womb, some living embryo of emotions that had long been asleep, stirred and showed signs of awakening. Encouraged by these hopeful signs, I sucked and licked and strained the muscle of my tongue, trying to shove it deep into her hot wet vulva. She was responding nicely now. I withdrew my tongue from her torrid tube and replaced it with my middle finger. With my other hand, I spread wide the upper area of her cunt and attacked her clitoral citadel. I could feel it erecting to my oral massage until it grew to the size of a titty nipple. I sucked it in and out of my mouth slowly as my tongue circled around it and flicked at it from all sides. She was a woman possessed now and I could feel the throbbing with my finger upon which she was impaled. I could hear her labored breathing now and occasional little moans of pure pleasure. At last a loud note of purest ecstasy escaped her lips as she spasmed through the throes of a full orgasm as her sweet juices flowed into my laboring mouth.
How different was the taste of her come from that of my own. The delicately sweet fluids she delivered into my lips were the purest distillation of rose petals and Easter lilies, aged in honeycombs. I kept at the flowing furrow until I extracted every last drop of the seeping sweetness of her cunt juices. Then I pulled my mouth away and got to my feet, she pulled me down on top of her and smothered me with kisses.
"Oh, thank you, my darling boy, thank you, thank you, thank you. How can I ever express the depths of my gratitude to you? Would you believe that this is the first time I have had an orgasm in over twenty years? Think of it! Twenty years. I thought that I was incapable of nor mal reactions. That is why I have learned to get my pleasure from the man's orgasm. I am not a frigid woman, after all. I can come? Do you realize what this means to me? You have brought back to life something I had thought was long dead and buried. You have miraculously brought about the reincarnation of the very heart and soul of my womanhood." The words had come swiftly and sincerely from the bottom of her heart. When she finished talking, she started to cry with deep, wretching sobs. I got up and left her alone while I smoked another cigarette. I knew that she needed no consoling, for they were tears of pure joy.
An occasion such as this surely called for a celebration. I put on my robe and made my way aft to the little bar. There were always a few chilled splits of champagne in the cooler. They kept the glasses there too, which was nice. I've always liked drinking out of a chilled glass. I found a small tray and removed two glasses and a bottle. On second thought, I reached in and took a second bottle. After all, twenty years is a hell of a long time between drinks, so to speak.
She was pleased with the gesture. By the time I returned, she had dried her eyes and freshened up her face. She gave me a big smile. I noticed that she wasn't just handsome anymore. A magi cal metamorphosis had taken place in the past half hour. A new and different Helene Scott stood before me now. Suddenly she was glowingly, radiantly beautiful. Even her voice had a new note, a more human quality. She was a woman reborn and I toasted her return to the human race.
Each time I refilled her glass, she kissed me and I squeezed her tits and patted her cunt. Each time I did, my own sleeping giant showed signs of awakening. As I poured the last of the second bottle into our two glasses, she reached inside my robe and grabbed my cock. At this he awakened fully and instantly. She opened my robe and holding my expanding prick in one hand and her glass in the other, she immersed the head of it into the bubbling wine. It was like I had been set upon by a thousand fireflies. Bending down, she slipped the champagne-dipped glands into her mouth and licked and sucked off the delicate wine. By the time she had repeated this operation four times, I had developed a formidable ramrod.
There remained only one way in which I had not yet possessed this wonderful woman and I intended to fill that void category right now. I bent her over the back of the low chair. Raising the skirts of her robe, I threw it up over her back, revealing the large firm buttocks. Spreading the soft cheeks wide to expose my target, I moved and brought the mauve marauder into direct confrontation with the tan starfish. I added spittle to the precoital juices that were already seeping from the meat us and pressed into the tight anal stricture. It squeezed tightly closed to bar my forceful entry at first, but slowly it fell beneath my continuously increasing pressure and dilated sufficiently for me to work the head of my cock into the tight ring of her asshole.
It took at least five minutes of our combined efforts to work it all the way up her ass. It was feverishly hot in there and as tight as shrunken rawhide around my swollen prick. Slowly it stretched and opened to me as I took long hard strokes in and out, ass fucking her to our mutual delight. She worked with me as I sawed all the way in and out of her soft hot rectal tunnel. I liked looking down and watching it disappear between her buttocks. When I increased my strokes so that part of the glands came into sight, I noticed a little ring of brown matter building up in the ridge where the head of my cock joined the staff like a mushroom on the stem. I was obviously reaming her out pretty thoroughly. Here and there along the shaft little flecks and streaks of brown laced the clear white fluids that coated it now. It was feeling awfully good now but she would not have to remind me to pull out in time. Nothing could deter me from the enjoyment of a second exposure to the fantastic head job she gave.
I could probably have stayed immersed back there for another minute or two, but that would only detract from the time that I would have to enjoy her mouth. Besides I had already proven my point and completed my round the world tour of her body. I withdrew it from her ass rapidly with a little plopping sound. I had expected that she would insist upon my going into the head and washing my stained cock thoroughly, or at least, she should want to wipe it off before taking it into her mouth. I had under estimated the degree of her oral ardor. She leaned me back against the chair and fell before me, swooping that swollen member into her soft, cool mouth instantly. She seemed not in the least concerned over the residue that its last recipient might have left on it. My mind raced back to her original statements when I had entered her cabin only hours earlier. I felt sure that it was not her initial experience at encountering the taste of her own shit on a man's prick.
In some ways her present oral assault upon my burgeoning manhood was even better than before; perhaps because now I knew what to expect. Her tongue and soft tender lips seemed to feel no repugnance at cleaning every speck of foreign matter from my throbbing rod. She began sliding sweetly again up and down the full length of the inflamed, near-bursting shaft. I felt her tongue graze against my swollen balls at the bottom of her strokes and then she ex posed the full, naked length of it to the cool night sea air as she slid her lips from their protective embrace while she attacked it with the gentle assault of her extended tongue. Taking it again into the protective custody of those sweet lips, she gently sucked it from tip to base eight or ten times until that trained tongue told her that the countdown was approaching zero. Again, as before, she slid out to encase only the head of it, which she tormented with that torrid tongue until I spurted forth a full measure of fluid floral offerings as a gift of appreciation to my hard-on's hostess.
She licked and sucked and gulped every last drop of my liquid offerings. Finally, at last con tent that she had drained each final dreg of my fleshy love casks, she released my shrunken cock from her lips and raised her face to where she looked down regarding me as a vanquished enemy. The last three nights had left me in a state of complete exhaustion. When Helene tucked me into her lower bunk I was fast asleep before she slid in beside me.
In the morning I was awakened in the most delightful way. It was like an alarm clock whose raucous buzzer had been replaced by a chorus of angels' voices. Helene was down between my legs, busily devouring my dick. What a way to start the day! I wondered what it would have been like if I hadn't awakened when I did but had remained asleep while she copped my joint. Would it have seemed like a wet dream, or would I have realized it for what it was. Perhaps I had just discovered the cause of wet dreams. Maybe the sandman is a cocksucker!
She was on it real good now, slurping my shaft in that superb way of hers. I knew that I would pop my nuts any moment now. Suddenly, to my complete dismay, she pulled off of it and looked up at me. "Bob, I want it in my pussy now. I've got to find out if I'm able to have an orgasm through normal intercourse again, after so very long. Do you mind terribly?" Her tone was almost pleading.
"Helene, my dear, I appreciate how important that is to you. That's the very reason I'm going to say no. At least for right now. I am too close to being ready to come, surely you could sense that. If I switched it from your mouth to your cunt, I would blow my wad just about the time you were really beginning to get worked up. I wouldn't enjoy that and neither would you. Here's what I suggest. You deserve a real opportunity to get your jollies off normally. That means you need a man to give you a real working over for at least fifteen or twenty minutes, not just a minute or two. You go back to what you were doing. Suck my balls dry. Give my ready prick the very best that your mouth has to offer and accept all that he has to offer in return. Then later, after we've had a good breakfast and some rest we'll come back to bed and I'll fuck you until you come, even if it takes all day."
Almost before I finished the sentence she was back down on it. It felt even greater after the intermission of conversation. She patted me with her soft hands as she swooped up and down the full length of my near-bursting cock. The inside of her mouth was warmer this morning ... still warm with sleep. Her tongue was almost hot now and it was everywhere at once, all over me. The size and ferocity of the load I shot into her talented mouth would have blown the head right off a lesser woman. Boy, how this old gal loved that ball brandy. She was rolling it around inside her mouth like a pig in his favorite mudhole.
I ate a mammoth breakfast. I might have a tougher job ahead of me than I had bargained for. Afterwards, I went on deck for a while and looked at the rugged Scandinavian shoreline as we continued northward. It was a forbidding looking terrain. I would not have been surprised to see a Viking ship emerge from one of the deep fjords bringing a load of horn-helmeted warriors to attack us. By mid afternoon we would be in Copenhagen.
Before returning to cabin 4 and Helene, I made my morning report to Dr. Evans. I stated that it had been supremely satisfactory. It came as no news to him, of course, that Helene was hooked on head. God knows I had no objections to this. I firmly believe that any artist who has become a consummate master of any one medium should abandon the others. I made no mention of having brought to her a rare orgasmic experience by cunnilingus nor that I was planning to see that she also got her jollies through a plain, good old-fashioned fucking. I left this part of the report for her.
Helene was waiting nervously. I had only kept her waiting for thirty minutes but some demon in her mind had stood her up for twenty years now. She had on a short plain Hopi coat with the big Japanese characters across the back. For years I've tried to find a Jap to tell me what they mean. You never see Orientals wearing these decorations. I strongly suspect that, liter ally translated, these characters say: "Fuck you, you white-skinned bastard." Nevertheless it was damned attractive on Helene. She had a hell of a pair of gams for an old broad. I had just begun to really admire them when I was reminded that I had a tough row to hoe in between them and I had best be getting to it.
I started out by giving her tits a thorough working-over. Perhaps I'd get lucky and find that she was one of those women who can be brought to a high state of arousal just by having their nipples nibbled. When the time came for the main event to begin, I went to the small head and soaked a washcloth in the coldest water I could get from the tap. I placed this cold, sopping wet cloth on a large dry towel and placed it out of the way on the inner edge of the bunk. Maybe I wouldn't even need it.
She had a nice cunt. Not tight, not loose ... just nice. When I had gotten into it last night, it had been in a standing position. Now, with her supine beneath me, I could really appreciate her inside plumbing. If there was just one word for this woman it would have to be "comfort able." I fed it to her slowly and gently at first; taking long strokes to caress and massage as many nerve endings as I could reach. Now and then I'd pull all the way out and guiding it with my hand, I'd rub the spongy head up and down over her clitoris to awaken that little panic but ton before slipping back into her soft sweet vulva. She was a slow starter, this one, but then I don't suppose Rip Van Winkle rose instantly after his long nap, either. I'd been stroking in and out of her for about ten minutes when I finally felt her begin to lift it up to me. I began socking it to her a little harder and faster then.
At first it did more for me than it did for her. I came dangerously close to crumbling my cookies before she was ready. I pulled out quickly, grabbed the cold wet cloth and slapped it to my burning balls. I effected quite a delaying action this way. I wrapped the cold cloth carefully around my nuts and held it in place with my compressed thighs as I slid my cock, enraged at this indignity, back into her hot little cunt. Now I could take my time. I alternated strokes and rhythm and within five minutes she was right in tempo with my every lead. She pulled my face down to hers and pressed those tender, talented lips to mine. She licked and sucked deeply on my tongue as though using it as a substitute for what she went slipping in and out of her lower lips ... the ones with the heavy moustache above them.
Her breath was getting very hot now and her fingers clutched at my hair and my back as she ground the hairy mound up to me so hard that it nearly fused our pubic bones into one. It would appear that victory was within sight. I didn't let up for a second but kept slamming my meat to her as ferociously as I could. She was an un chained lioness in heat now. She bit at my lips and my tongue and dug her sharp fingernails into my flesh as her arms and legs flailed around me like the tentacles of an octopus. I tried to drive even deeper into that throbbing cunt that was now close to the boiling point. With a loud gasp and a shudder that shook the whole bunk, she reached the peak and went hurtling over the precipice. Muscles that had lain long dormant clutched and grasped and squeezed demandingly at my feverish swollen prick inside her. Precious fluids, sealed too long in their buried flacons, flowed over and around my shaft, tightly pressed into the very depths of her trembling tube.
When the hot winds that raced through her body with hurricane force at last subsided, I urged her legs down and together as I lifted my knees over and placed them on the mattress just outside hers. Reaching down between my spread thighs, I yanked off the cold compress that had kept my balls from delivering their contents. Now it was like I had to start all over again. Her cunt was very juicy now, but placing her legs together had compressed the inner walls to where it was tight and deliciously slippery.
I felt that she had her inning. This was my time at bat so I went at it with no thought of anything but my own pleasure. When I got ready to hit, there would be no strike. After all my work, I was not willing to settle for any chicken shit base on balls. This baby was going to be a four-bagger. I was fucking her now as one would a whore, totally oblivious to any consideration other than to maximize my own erotic enjoyment of the use of her body. I was, therefore, not immediately conscious of the fact that she was responding, trying to make any movement, every stroke, just perfect for me. With her legs pressed together, inside of mine, her hot physically narrowed vulva felt exactly the way her sweet, tight asshole had felt last night just before I had withdrawn from it. It was actually several minutes before I realized the full implications of her movements. Not only was she exerting every conscious effort to make it a great lay for me, but she was striving desperately to see if she could reach another orgasm for herself. Now that I grasped the implications of the situation, I went along with it.
Without sacrificing any erogenous stimulation of my own sex parts, I tried to pace myself so that we might go down the chute-the-chute of sexual love together. Nor did I misjudge my timing. Almost without warning, the moment of truth burst upon us in perfect unison. As I pumped a double load of my molten pearls into the hot tight depths of her tender tunnel, I felt it convulse and spasm around me as her own hot juices flowed to mix with mine to concoct the sweetest and most potent version of the lovers' cocktail.
She was ecstatic with joy to learn that she had rediscovered her long-lost ability to make an even exchange for the most precious gifts her lover could bestow upon her.
Later, as we stood side by side at the railing, watching the now closer shoreline as we slipped through the smooth waters of the Baltic Sea to enter the Copenhagen harbor, I realized how much I had matured sexually while aboard this wonderful vessel. I vowed that never again would I feel sorry for a young man who was married to an older woman. My recent experiences at sex with more mature partners had been a revelation to me. If nothing else I had learned that these older gals were the greatest in the hay. Man, that was for sure!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Copenhagen turned out to be the happiest, liveliest city I had ever seen. Here, in the birth place of the blonde, the women were all beautiful. I couldn't believe the shops with their open displays of pure pornography and the pictures posted outside of the movie theatres were unbelievable. The local people didn't even stop to glance at them as they passed. I bought a whole stack of sex books and photographs for souvenirs. Just for laughs I bought a mammoth dildo that would have stuffed even that Adele's huge box.
We all had dinner at a delightful restaurant in the beautiful Tivoli gardens. Afterward, Dr. Evans had arranged for us to see an especially selected group of "blue films." The sound tracks weren't in English but we had little difficulty in getting the message. Even with my heavy experience of the past ten days or so, I still picked up a few ideas which I tucked away in my mind to try out as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
At eleven o'clock that night we were taken to Denmark's most famous bordello. We were taken into a large room which had been set up like a theatre in the round. All of the European whorehouses seemed to feature a floor show as a means of displaying their girls and giving appetizing little previews of their unique individual talents. Here we sat at little tables and drank aquavit, a clear Danish liqueur that tasted like melted Sterno that had been ignited just before you swallowed it. I think they made it by carefully squeezing one caraway seed into a gallon of pure grain alcohol.
Their collection of girls was unbelievable. They were the loveliest group of females ever gathered under one roof. Each looked like a Hollywood movie queen. They did various little acts, completely nude except for a thin chain around their necks which held a large numbered tag. The clients desiring their services later had merely to order their choice by number, like a sandwich at a Jewish delicatessen.
A trio of outstanding beauties went through a little lesbian act and then called for a volunteer from the audience. One of the married guys from our group, who had been hitting that aquavit a little too fast and heavy, weaved his way unsteadily onto the stage. The girls had him stripped bare in seconds. They did an erotic little dance around him as his erection grew at the sight of those fantastic bodies. Then they alternated at sucking his cock. After a few minutes, they went into a little mock fight scene as to which one would get to take his come in her mouth. Their timing, or signals turned out to be perfect.
After each one had gone down on him three times for a few strokes, a big blonde kneeled down arid grabbed him by the ass, forcing his huge prick into her mouth clear to his balls. The others screamed at her to stop, that it was their turn. They slapped and kicked at her but she stayed on it. Finally one grabbed her by the hair and the other by the tits and they pulled her off his cock just at the crucial moment as he spurted out a big load of come all over her lovely face. The others whooped with delight and fell, upon her to lick off every drop of it with their tongues, much to the delight of the mixed audience that applauded wildly and threw money onto the small stage. At a nearby table I caught a glimpse of my friend Helene Scott hungrily licking her lips.
By the time the show was ended, I had a roaring hard-on. I was torn between two blonde beauties, number four and number nine. Throwing caution to the wind I filled out the card and handed it to the topless waitress wearing the cellophane apron who attended my table. Five minutes later I was escorted upstairs to a medium-sized room containing nothing but a king size bed in the middle of the floor. The walls and ceiling were completely mirrored. I found a small dressing room and hung my clothes and then hopped onto the bed. Moments later the door opened and my two chosen lovelies entered. I soon discovered that they neither spoke nor understood English, but despite this we didn't seem to have the slightest problem with communications.
They were well versed in every conceivable variation of troilism. First I worked my cock into number four while number nine pressed her cunt to my mouth. After a few minutes they re versed their positions and I fucked number nine while I sucked number four's cunt. Next they came up with a real wild one. Number four laid crosswise on the bed on her back with her head at the edge of the mattress. Nine straddled her shoulders and leaned down to suck her friend's cunt as I fucked her dog fashion from behind. Four got into position and sucked my balls into her mouth and tongue and lip massaged them while I slid in and out of nine's nice little cunt.
I was amazed at how tight their pussies were for professional prostitutes. I surmised they they must mix alum into their douche powder to keep them this tight despite the heavy traffic of their trade. Now they traded places again. This time nine, beneath me, did not suck my balls but licked the part of my cock that was exposed when it pulled out of four's snatch. Four mean while had her face down between nine's legs and occasionally nine would let her tongue stray into four's slit and tickle her clit so were each getting a double treatment. Each time we tried a new threesome position, I checked the mirrors all around to admire our ingenuity from every possible angle.
At last they stretched me but flat in the middle of the bed and both of them went down on my root at the same time. It was if I were being blown by Medusa who had suddenly developed a forked tongue to go with her hair of snakes. No one would suck on the knob while her partner tongued the base of the staff. Finally one took in all of my burgeoning cock while the other encased my balls in her warm wet mouth, then they both sucked voraciously until I blew my balls and my mind at the same time. This double headed head job was really all the way out there!
Afterward I chewed on all four of their tits and sucked both of their little cunts. While I rested they treated me to a little private lesbian show as they assumed the classic sixty-nine position and licked each other's soft slit. I had read somewhere that most whores sooner or later become lesbians, but this was my first real close-up view of their action. It had a terrific erotic effect upon me and soon I had developed another usable erection. I did not want to break them up before they finished what they were doing to each other, so I knelt behind the girl on top and worked my cock into her ass while her play mate kept licking her slit from below. Occasionally my swinging balls got in her way, so she licked them too while I buggered her girl friend. Checking this crazy action in the mirrors was something else again and it didn't take long for me to reach the sexual point of no return. I felt the head of my cock swell deep inside her ass and through some miracle of fortunate timing we all came at the same moment as the bed shook from the trembling outpourings of three sex centers at once.
For the next ten days we continued our tour of European sex capitals by chartered plane as our yacht made its way southward to pick us up again in Naples. Our next stop was Hamburg where we visited the Mecca of the Twilight Men. The brothel we visited was a masculine one and we watched while the gay boys took each other orally and anally. What appeared to be beautiful frauleins strolling amongst our group and offering their wares were actually faggots in drag. A couple of the guys decided to give them a try but I passed this action. At this point I thought I could use a night's rest. Back at our hotel I was almost asleep when I heard a light tapping at my door. I started not to answer it since the whole town was literally crawling with queers. I am glad that I changed my mind because, when I opened it a crack and peeked out, there was luscious Martha in a thin robe that almost, but not quite, covered those terrific tits. She glanced furtively in both directions of the hallway, then slipped silently into the room and headed for my bed.
My recent overexposure to womanflesh had gotten me over my earlier ideas that I was in love with Martha, but this in no way dampened my ardor for her beautiful body. We fucked slowly and tenderly like a pair of reunited lovers after a long absence from each other. I lost count of how many times I came in her lovely cunt. Twice we didn't even take it out, but she just held me inside and squeezed on it until it got hard again and we resumed. She said in the morning that she had orgasmed six times. She might have been one up on me. The first rays of dawn were streaking the gray German skies when we finally gave up and fell asleep in each other's arms. It was almost ten o'clock when I awakened for the first time in my adult life without an erection. It was a damn good thing too because Martha had slipped out and back to her room while I slept.
In Berlin the girls were beautiful and put on a very heavy show for us. But when several of them stopped by the table and talked to us, I began to lose interest. They were a hard, calculating lot, totally lacking in either charm or humor. They were strictly business women out after the almighty buck, or in their case, mark. They followed a straight line 4-F approach to sex: find 'em, fleece 'em, fuck 'em and forget 'em. Last month, back home, any one of them would have looked great to me, but I had become hopelessly spoiled these past weeks. I had a couple of quiet drinks at the bar and enjoyed watching a number of normally proper middle-aged German businessmen making perfect asses of themselves over the play for pay frauleins.
I left early after paying only a nominal cover charge and for my drinks. I had a cab driver take me to an all-night camera shop. The money I had saved on sex I invested in a Leica camera, complete with electronic strobe light flash attachment and a large supply of color film. I also purchased several dozen small clear plastic envelopes intended to protect color slides and a large roll of American Scotch tape. For the balance of this venereal voyage I intended to maintain a complete photographic file of my conquests. If the wild oats I was sowing on this trip were to last me for a lifetime, I would want something to refresh my memory in my old age. My shopping completed, I returned to the hotel and spent hours carefully practicing how to operate my fine new camera outfit.
Our itinerary next called for three days and nights in Paris. I had saved a hundred dollars to buy presents here for Margaret. I spent the first day roaming in and out of shops along the Rue de Rivoli and around Place Vendome, picking up fine perfume and little lacy garments.
That night we were taken to the fabulous House of All Nations. Their show put the Follies Bergere to shame. This world-reknowned establishment lived up to its name. Here you could sample an Outer Mongolian, an Eskimo woman, or find out whether or not it's true what they say about Chinese girls. In their show, the master of ceremonies played up the international atmosphere that was the specialty of the house with corny little comments like: "My girl won't for a Swede but she will for a fin." I don't know whether a whorehouse has a personnel manager or a casting director, but whatever his title, the guy with that job here had done a magnificent job of assembling top talent in the form of outstanding beauties from every nation. I was hard pressed to settle on a choice. I felt like the little boy who was turned loose in F.A.O. Schwarz' Toy Store and told he could have anything, but one item only. I finally determined that since I would probably never get to the Orient, I would take advantage of this opportunity to sample sex, Nippon-style.
When I'd made my wishes known, I was ushered up to the third floor. Each door along the broad carpeted hallway bore the coat of arms of a different nation while the flag of that country hung from a short flagpole above the door. It looked like the United Nations of Nooky. When we reached the door bearing the symbol of the rising sun, I was ushered in. Crossing the threshold, I found myself in what might have been the finest house of prostitution in Tokyo. Every minute detail of decor, furniture and equipment was authentically Japanese. It was no wonder this place was so famous. They really went all out.
A few moments later, a door at the far end of the room opened and a real, live Kabuki doll entered. She was in full costume. She bowed low and introduced herself as Suziki. She took me in to an Oriental-style bath where she had already drawn warm water in the oversized sunk en tub. She bowed and scraped around me as though I were the emperor himself as she un dressed me and then removed her own kimona type robes and led me into the huge tub. I didn't feel that I was particularly dirty, but I was determined to get the full treatment. She soaped and sponged me and scrubbed me with soft brushes. What that soapy sponge and her small delicate hands did to my cock and balls made me fear that I would shoot my load right then and there in the bathtub instead of in her.
In London I had been amazed to discover that I enjoyed Fanny Hill's insane game so now I was determined to go along with Suziki's. I didn't know whether or not it was protocol, but I began to soap and sponge her dolllike body. She was surprisingly large-breasted for an Oriental and when I reached this area I dispensed with the sponge and the brushes and just used my hands.
When we got out of the tub we rubbed each other dry and then she placed me on a massage table, flat on my stomach. She rubbed me ex pertly with oil and alcohol and showed amazing strength in those small hands. When she finished with my back and I turned over, she went over my chest and arms, relaxing every tight muscle. She started with my toes and worked her way up my legs. By the time her hands were up to my inner thighs I had worked up an erection that was nearly splitting the skin. She grazed lightly over it with her fingertips and then helped me from the table and led me back into the large main room.
She showed me to a large mattresslike pad on a low platform near one end of the room. While I reclined on it, she closed the sliding shoji panels separating this area from the living room portion of the one room. She did an enticing little Oriental dance around the low bed. I did not mean to be impolite but I beckoned her over beside me before she had gone through her full routine. By now I'd had about all of the preliminaries I could take and was raring to go at the main event.
When she slid over beside me, I was on top of her in a flash. Her small hands guided my throbbing cock into the lips of a thrillingly tight little Nipponese nooky. I don't know how that tiny little mite managed to take all of it into her childlike cunt but she did. Then she did excruciatingly exciting things with her inner muscles. She was a fantastic piece of ass. She kept uttering little compliments in English and Japanese and in no time at all I let blast all the way down in that delightfully tight little cunt of hers. The bursting head of my prick must have been way up inside, even above her little belly button. She was too much, this little doll. She kept those muscles working and I thought I'd never stop coming. I had flooded her insides to where I wouldn't have been surprised to see it start running out of her ears.
When the flooding had ceased, I pulled out of her tight little box. She proceeded to clean me. This time, instead of sponges and brushes, she used only her tongue and her lips. Her mouth was so expert as it licked and sucked the residue of milky white slime from my shrunken staff that by the time she had it thoroughly clean it was swollen and ready to get dirty again. I thought of the Japanese expression "Ahzso!" and it made me wonder if the daughters of the rising sun liked to take it in their ahzsos. I arranged her on her knees with legs somewhat spread and her head down on the pad. I knelt behind her and spreading her cheeks apart, aimed at the small brown ring between the yellow-skinned mounds of her ass that gleamed like polished ivory. It was tight, but she was a game little girl and did all that she could to help me as, bit by bit, I worked it deep into her tightly stretched asshole.
The Yoga-like muscular control she had demonstrated in front was developed to an equal degree back here. At a certain point she seemed to will them to expand and they did, allowing me to slide in easily the rest of the way. Now she suggested that I just hold it still, all the way inside her rear, while she treated me to a madly erotic massage with her inner rectal muscles. I reached under her, grabbed those nice tits and fondled them as I began stroking in and out of her ass while she kept those muscles going the whole time. With all this going for me, it didn't take long until I shot three distinct jets of jism into her very bowels.
Again she cleaned me off. She seemed no more concerned over just what she was licking and sucking off of my drained dickey than a housecat licking its rear end clean. This time I was satisfied just to have her clean me. I did not arise again. I tried to tip her but she declined politely. She helped me to dress and bid me a fond say onara.
The next day I spent sightseeing, just as any typical American tourist. Some of our group planned to go night clubbing that night but I begged off. Around nine-thirty I found a cab driver who spoke English and told him that my trip to France would not be complete without getting "Frenched." He was most understanding and drove me, the long way around, to a place with the promising name, Maison de Tete. With a name like House of Head, this had to be the place. Inside it was immediately obvious that I was now out of the high-rent district. The madam took me to a small bar, shoved a brandy at me and began to extol the merits of one frowsy-looking old whore after another who had crawled out of the woodwork at the sound of the bell. She tried to tout me onto the specialty of the house: two girls at once. One would suck my cock while the other sucked my asshole. I really wanted to get the hell out of here but I was alone and in a strange country. I figured it would be safer to buy what I had come here for and then get away as quickly as possible.
I finally let her sell me a bill of goods on Marie, whom she described as "ze best cocksuckair in all of Parree." Marie was hardly what one would describe as a living doll. She wore a grimy sleeve less evening gown from some local second-hand shop. Huge clumps of black hair judded from her armpits and it was soon obvious that she had as great a disdain for deodorants as for a razor. When she moved close and spoke to me in broken English I wondered how long my poor prick would reek of the garlic on her breath. Unlike the better bordellos, this was strictly a cash in advance operation. After the usual French dickering a price, undoubtedly ten times what any Frenchman would have paid, was negotiated. I paid the madam and Marie led me up a flight of creaking stairs.
The bedroom was large and had a complete bath attached. As I undressed, Marie whipped off the sleazy dress. She wore nothing beneath it. Her figure was nondescript. She went to the bathroom and drew several inches of warm water into the bidet. Squatting over it, she took a cake of soap and went at that snatch like a doctor scrubbing for surgery. This was a regular ritual with French whores. Their cunt is the only part of their body that they make any effort to keep clean. She dried on a dirty towel and came in. She spread out on the bed and suggested we have a "leetle fock before ze French." I glanced between her legs and declined the offer. I lay down and told her to get on with it. She stroked and jerked at my cock to get it hard and practically squeezed my balls off. I think that she was used to servicing bulls. Finally she went down on me with a big production of smacking, slurping and slopping. It was the worst blow job I'd ever had. It was all I could do to maintain my hard-on but I was determined that the bitch was going to earn her fee. Based on what this cost in Paris, a night with Helene Scott was worth ten thousand dollars. Marie kept slobbering away over me and I made her gobble it, even though she had no talent for it, until I finally came somewhat halfheartedly in her garlicky mouth.
As soon as it was over she was up like a flash, squeezing back into the dirty dress and hurrying out, obviously afraid one of the other girls might beat her to the next American sucker. I was thoroughly disgusted. I got dressed and prepared to leave. Glancing in the bathroom, I decided to wash my cock as best I could. After I finished, I got a sudden inspiration. Lowering my pants and squatting low over it I left her the crowning insult that one can bestow upon a French whore. I shit in her bidet.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rome was far more to my liking than Paris. We visited a house called The Forum. Rather than a whorehouse per se, where one selected one or two girls, this place was a huge room filled with Roman couches and cushions around the floor. One paid a flat fee for admission. Once inside, it was one big, continuous orgy. It did not matter whether you took on one of the girls employed there, or another customer. It was a sexual free-for-all. Dr. Evans had arranged for all of us to spend three nights here. He was anxious to observe our attitude in plural sex and to see, firsthand, what we had learned thus far.
Since Rome is reputedly the birthplace of the orgy, this had been an appropriate choice. It was the first experience of this sort that any of us had ever had at this sort of thing. The effect of roaming around the spacious room, stark naked with a drink in your hand and stopping to ob serve countless couples engaged in every conceivable attitude of sex, was positively galvanizing. When the things that you saw in the continuous sex circus through which you roamed aroused you sufficiently, you simply looked around for a female that appealed to you and had at her in whatever way struck your fancy. There were no holds barred and the only limit placed upon the participants was that of their own physical capacity for performance.
I was amazed to notice how few of the couples performed the sex act in the attitude that most Americans firmly believe is the "normal" position. Here the "dog-fashion" position seemed to be most popular and there were an infinite number of variations on this popular theme. Women were bent over couches and chairs, straddling seated men or squatting over prone ones.
I watched, fascinated, as one sexually gluttonous young woman took in three penises at once. She was squatted over a guy on the floor, lowering her cunt onto his cock while another man knelt behind her and sawed in and out of her ass. The two men's balls banged together like cymbals at times. A third man stood straddling the guy on the floor while she took his cock in her mouth. She was a busy girl! I got a pretty good ramrod on just watching this performance. I made the sad mistake of trying to pass too close to the trio and she reached out and grabbed me by the ying-yang. I had no intention of settling for a hand-job when I was surrounded by acres and acres of tits, asses and cunts. I managed to escape her grip and roam farther through the room, preceded slightly by a rather major erection. I felt like the bow of a sailing ship plowing carefully through the waves, with its proud bowsprit going before it on an erect, upward angle.
Sitting quietly on a corner divan, I spied a beautiful young Italian girl who had the body of a sculptor's favorite model and the face of a photographer's dream girl. Walking straight up to her, I grasped her by those orblike boobs and buried my turgid tool between them. She smiled up at me and raised her hands to my balls, lifting my excited member to her face as she slowly treated the top third of it to her tender oral embrace. As I realized that a language barrier existed between us, I silently returned her compliment by falling to my knees and burying my face in the dark furrow of her Italian woman hood. She had the sweet aroma of a grove of ripe olive trees in the bright spring sunshine. I treated my tongue to the rare opportunity and dipped deeply into the vat of her ripe fruit. Kneeling before her on a cushion on the cool marble floor, I guided the dusty rose banner of the proud legions of my manly assault forces into the sweet ripe vineyards of her soft, moist vulva that was so heavily laden with the needs for immediate harvesting. She took me hungrily into the cornucopia of her vintage cunt.
I leaned forward to suck the dripping honey from the honeycombs of her lovely breasts which rose in perfect symmetry before me. Her lovely face smiled down on me as my mouth paid homage to the lovely orbs of her womanhood while my scepter drove into her soft warm inner channel to the fullest depth. Here in my arms I held all that was the classical beauty of the Roman empire as my sex chariot charged, unleashed now, down the length of her own Appian Way.
I felt the power of the Caesars now as she clutched at my sex chariot in the spasmodic grasp of her orgasm just as I ignited my own long hard Roman candle to spew forth into her the seemingly endless sputtering effusion of a million brilliant, glowing sparklers of exploding sperm. When the fireworks in our loins ceased and the last dying ember fell back to earth, we parted with a sweet, moist kiss.
I strolled for the next half hour, an interested and involved observer, amidst the mass of mingled humanity which surrounded me in this magical forum of sex. The erotic sights upon which my unbelieving eyes gorged themselves did not go unnoticed by my sex center. Soon I became re-aroused to the point that I was again ready to dart into the fray of the ceaseless battle of the sexes which rage around me on all fronts (and a few rears).
As I roamed among the active participants in the game, I recognized (not necessarily by their faces) a number of the female members of our little group with whom I had become intimately acquainted the past few weeks. The games they played ranged all the way from dynamic duos and troilistic trios to full-fledged daisy chains. I was tempted to join in a couple of the group therapy sessions they were undergoing but, what the hell, I had almost two full weeks to get to them. Right now I was in Rome and I had every intention of doing as many Romans as I could.
A small Sicilian beauty caught my eye next. She was a hairy bitch. The beard of the clam rose almost to her navel and large patches of hair sprouted from her armpits, making it appear that she had three cunts. She was not like Marie in Paris. There was nothing dirty or vulgar appearing in those furred armpits, just pure sex. I knew that the hair would be sweet and clean. She was small of stature, perhaps five foot two, but beautifully proportioned. Her firm, full tits jutted out in a "come suck me" attitude. I approached her with a silent offer of my manly charms. In the wonderful, silent international language of sex, she gratefully accepted my offer.
My knees were slightly sore and red from the hard marble floor, even with the padding of the thin cushion. I sat beside her on the long, back less divan as I ran my hands appreciatively over those beautiful boobs and through the dense growth of pubic hairs that obscured my target like a heavy cloud layer beneath a bombardier on a vital mission. Without a word or any apparent effort, I urged her to straddle my lap as I guided the head of my stiff cock through the thick forest of black hair and into the soft pink valley which it obscured.
She bobbed up and down on my now firmly implanted rod like a child bouncing a rubber ball. I nibbled at her firm young tits for a few minutes before she lifted my face to hers and glued our mouths together in an international exchange of spit that precluded our immediate consideration of the pending fluid exchange that was rapidly developing in our merged laps. When the electricity charged, storm clouds of our passions merged and the lightning bolts shot as the deluge descended deep inside of her, the thunder pounding in our ears as we weathered the furies of the storm together.
I wandered amongst the others for a long time afterward, observing and studying the ever changing tableau of intertwined human bodies. Slowly I became aroused to a third and final active participation in the delightful deviations of the mass orgy. My eyes latched upon a tall, lovely creature stretched out on a low divan, her head elevated by one rising curved end while some strange lover hid his face between her spread loins in a desperate oral attack upon the center of her femininity. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, seemingly grasping at something just beyond her reach. I approached the side of the couch and took her lolling head in my hands. I rolled her face toward where I stood beside her and then her soft lips grazed against the swollen, spongy head of my stiff cock. She leaped suddenly, like a trout at a fly, to entrap it. In moments her lips had encased the pounding head of that erect member, taking it more and more deeply into the oral trap in which she held it captive as the stranger assaulting her own sex brought his attack to a victorious climax. Once that was over, she devoted her full attentions to me and swooped me deeper and deeper into the warm, wet recesses of her mouth until I could no longer withhold that which she now demanded of me. I blew my load into that strange Italian girl's mouth as though I were offering up my jewels to a lifelong love.
Less than an hour later we all dressed and wove our weary ways from The Forum and into the bus that would return us to our hotel and the blessed restfulness of sleep ... deep and alone.
Next day I spent ten hours in the Vatican. It would have taken ten years to even skim the surface of this greatest treasure trove of the art world. Back at the hotel I ran into Dr. Evans and Martha in the lobby. They invited me to join them for dinner at a beautiful restaurant high on the side of one of the famous seven hills. It's a funny thing about Rome. You can't get decent Italian food anywhere in town. There was no point in going back to the hotel to change. Where we were going nobody but the doorman would see our clothes, anyway. We took a cab directly to The Forum.
This was Friday night and the joint was really jumping. You never saw such a mass of tangled naked bodies in your life. It reminded me of the old burlesque story about the three contortionists who were making love. Finally they became so hopelessly entangled that they resembled the masterpiece of a drunken pretzel maker. After sucking her own big toe by mistake, the girl in the act exclaimed disgustedly, "Why don't you two guys just get up and go away and then I'll know that what's left is me!"
Out in the middle of the floor was a huge daisy chain that looked like a conga line. I recognized eight or ten members of our troupe who seemed determined not to break the chain. On one of the low divans a little man who managed to look dapper even in the nude, thanks to a waxed moustache and pointed goutee, was buggering a mammoth Italian beauty who must have tipped the scales at a dainty 220. The little guy must have had a hell of schlong on him because at least six inches was lost just getting past the fatty barriers of her buttocks.
Then I saw something I had not seen the night before in that there were a few homosexual acts sprinkled amongst the group for seasoning. I really hadn't noticed this until three screaming fags got into a hair-pulling fight over a large hairy tattooed man, obviously a sailor and were all thrown out.
A tall, gaunt woman with long flowing jet black hair approached me. In such places it is not uncommon for the female to be the aggressor. She had a heavy accent as she invited me to a nearby divan. Something about her put me in the excited, yet frightened frame of mind one gets at a horror movie. She looked like she could have been the bride of Count Dracula. I let her lead me away. What the hell, why not? It's a well-known fact that Dracula sucks.
After this female Bela Lugosi had expertly back flushed my radiator, I set out in search of new adventures. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of looking at the heroic proportions of the figures of Vatican art, but tonight I was in a mood that convinced me I had balls like grapefruit and could take on all comers. Two very attractive girls, obvious switch-hitters, approached me and said something in seductively French accents. Right now I was pretty turned-off on the French so I dismissed them with a curt: "Jamais!"
My eye was attracted by a dark-haired buxom beauty that looked like the darling of the Florentine painters. I found her Ruebenesque figure wildly exciting. She had tits like all out doors. Unfortunately she had a belly and ass to match, but I regarded her as a challenge. There was enough of her to go around in the locker room of a football stadium. I felt up to the test, so I approached her. By so doing I advanced my sex education one step further. By the pound she was the greatest bargain in womanflesh I'd ever seen. She must have stood five-ten and weighed 180. Nevertheless, her cunt was tighter than the few assholes I had recently wormed my way into. I'm a very normally hung guy, but it was all I could do to work it into her. She was a wildly emotional Italian and kept squirming and yelping and babbling phrases that were foreign to my ears. With a lot of noise and motion, this gigantic milking machine finally creamed me. I waited until it got soft before attempting to withdraw, for fear that I'd tear the skin off it like a grape. I thought of tiny Adele on the boat who had a grocket like Grand Canyon and this big cow with a hole the size of a pencil sharpener tube. Obviously women are not built to a definite formula of proportions.
After a half hour of observing and making occasional helpful suggestions to some of the players, I homed-in on a little blonde who was obviously American. Perhaps she looked good simply because she was so out of place in this group. I approached her and she came on with an inane conversation. She had the vocabulary of a kindergarten dropout and spoke in a voice that was strictly Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn. For this I had to come to Rome! While she had a head full of feathers that must have come strictly from a Cracker-Jack box, she had a pair of tits that belonged in the Louvre. I sat on a low couch and had her straddle me and slide her juicy snatch up and down my stiff cock while I nibbled at those nipples and squeezed her grape fruit. I really had to hand it to this kid. I chewed unmercifully on her tits and she slammed up and down my shaft until we popped our nuts together. It was pretty goddamn wild but, despite that, she never missed a single stroke at chewing on a huge wad of Juicy Fruit gum in her mouth.
For my final performance of the evening about an hour later, I gravitated to an older Italian woman. I had learned to have a healthy respect for older women as sex partners. This signora had salt-and-pepper hair done in a very severe bunlike style and an extremely well-preserved figure. I judged her to be between fifty-five and sixty. Even sitting there naked there was the air of a noblewoman about her. She exuded continental charm. Never once did she lose her dignity, even while we fucked like a pair of caged monkeys at the zoo. She was the best lay I'd had at the fabulous forum.
Saturday I took a guided sightseeing tour of ancient Rome and all of the fantastic fountains and public buildings. The dates they mentioned made one feel that man's lifespan is pretty in significant in the overall scheme of things.
The Forum was a mob scene tonight. There must have been 500 people packed in there. I won't say that it looked like the Bronx Express on the IRT subway. If the Bronx Express was ever like this, they could raise the fare to ten dollars! For fifteen minutes I stood, utterly fascinated, watching a huge black Moroccan garroting a little blonde Swedish girl. Cripes, he went at her like a Roto-Rooter. It was nothing short of astounding to watch that big black spear disappear in that little blonde-fringed hole. I also observed a big handsome Italian chap take on a little Chinese girl. I was interested to note, first hand, that it is not true what they say about them.
Then an Arabian woman caught my eye. I had to fight back the urge to laugh at the glaring incongruities of her customs. Although she walked about stark naked for any and all men to see and have, her face was carefully veiled from her eyes down. Her pubic region had been shaved as smooth as a cue ball, yet huge crops of dark hair bloomed in her armpits. I engaged her in conversation. Her English was flawless and her frankness and lack of embarrassment captivated me. She showed not the slightest reticence in answering my stupid questions. She explained that women in the near East, and for that matter, many of the men shaved their pubic hairs for the simple reason that their toilet facilities were not as sanitary as those of Europe or America. With a twinkle in her eyes, which were all I could see of her face, she set my mind at rest that this made the women none the less mature, sexually.
She went on to tell me that because the Arab men seldom, if ever, saw pubic hair, they became highly aroused, sexually, over the sight of a hairy armpit. Displaying her own, she pointed out the amazing similarity of physical configuration between the upper female genital area and the armpit. She pointed out that there is a mound of flesh and muscle under the armpit that resembles the Mound of Venus of the female genitalia. While pubic hair may differ drastically in color and texture from the hair of a woman's head, the armpit hair invariably matches the pubic hair. She invited me to rub and massage her underarm furred mounds. I found the new experience strangely stimulating. When she touched my body, I noticed that she did so only with her right hand. I inquired about this also.
She explained patiently, "Have you ever read or seen pictures of how they punish a man for stealing or other crimes in my part of the world? They chop off his right hand at the wrist. Do you know why?"
I ventured the guess that this was to assure that he never dipped that hand into the till again.
"That is what most Westerners think, but it goes far deeper than that. In our part of the world we eat at long, communal tables. To be banned from the table is to be a social outcast. In our toilet habits we do not use toilet tissue, as you do. It is our custom to clean ourselves with our left hand which we then wash with water from a long-necked brass bottle which Americans delight in making into table lamps. Thus, when a man loses his right hand, with which he eats and handles food, he is no longer acceptable at the communal table. No one wants to eat with someone who passes them bread with the same hand with which, as you Americans say, he wipes his ass."
Since I had this rare opportunity to expand my knowledge of a foreign culture, I asked her about the veil, remarking that it looked a trifle silly on a naked lady amongst strangers gathered for purposes of pure sexual gratification. She chuckled deeply at my obvious embarrassment at asking the frank question.
"I must agree with you, sir. Under the present circumstances the veil certainly borders on the ludicrous. Let me explain. In the olden days, in my country, the Nomad tribes of the desert were engaged in a constant series of pillaging raids upon their neighbors' camps. Few of the tribes had much in the way of riches or worldly pos sessions, since they were wanderers over the sands. Generally, a sheikh's most valuable asset was his harem. When a neighboring tribe made a raid, they stole the wives and daughters of the victim. In order that the stolen women not be recognized too readily, they took to veiling them. So that the captive women did not stand out among the legitimate members of each harem, all were made to wear veils.
"Of course, all of this is history now, just as the scalping of the settlers by the Indians is history in your country. I was educated in England. I can appreciate both sides of the coin. In my own case, I still wear my veil while traveling abroad for a reason that is rooted in personal vanity. Among Arab peoples it is considered a sign of beauty for a woman, as a young girl, to have a center upper tooth extracted from her mouth. I am one of the group that has had this done to me. Europeans consider this a deformity and ugliness, so I hide the offensive sight with my veil."
After my course in Arabian culture, this charming woman gave me a course in sex, No mad-style. She had been trained at one point as a belly dancer and her muscular control was wild and unbelievable. I was so enthralled with her that I remained after having expelled my first pearls. Later she went down on me. It was really a way-out experience to see that veil hide my cock as well as her mouth as she proceeded to give me a superb blow-job, Arabian-style. During the entire performance I never once saw her mouth, except in my mind's eye, as she per formed her expert oral ministrations upon my unveiled, plain old-fashioned American cock.
Much later that night, my last at The Forum, I encountered two lovely Australian lasses. They were airline stewardesses dead-heading their way back to Melbourne. The three of us had a real ball together. The Australian women are the most sexually uninhibited in the world. I cannot even begin to put into words the exotic thrills that the three of us enjoyed together so far from our respective homelands.
From Rome we took a late night train on the fantastic rubber-tired Italian State Railway to Naples. I was almost asleep when Martha crawled into my lower berth beside me. I didn't think I could possibly get it up again tonight. Miraculously, like a high priestess of ancient Egypt, she caused my dead cock, like the fabled phoenix, to rise from the ashes and soar again. It was a delightful sensation to just hold it deep in her sweet slit while we were rocked from side to side by the motion of the train, hurtling down the rails on those crazy rubber wheels. I would not have believed my drained balls capable of delivering the quantity of sweet juices which I pumped into her innermost love tubes just as the sun burst forth and we pulled into the rail road terminal near the Bay of Naples.
It was good to be back aboard the now familiar yacht; like returning home. We cruised in a southeasterly course through the Tyrrhenian Sea into the Mediterranean and up into the Sea of Crete as we approached the ancient port of Athens. We were two nights at sea now and so we resumed the old game of nightly sealed card assignments. I drew a pair of middle-aged married women who had been strictly touted onto this trip by their husbands. My nights with them can best be described as mediocre. If nothing else, it showed me the depths to which married sex can sink. The two lousy nights put me in mind of a story I had once heard Lou Holtz tell in a nightclub. It was the classic situation of the garment manufacturer who came home in mid afternoon to find his wife in bed with his partner. He tapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Of all the men in the world, why did I have to discover you here with my wife? Not only are we partners in a successful business, but you are my very best friend, my oldest boyhood chum. This breaks my heart. You, in bed with my Becky. After all, Sam, I have to, but why you, my very best friend!"
After my two nights of lousy, dead-ass lays, we arrived in Athens. That night we went to an establishment called La Danska. Here a group of happy Greeks, stark naked, were doing that elbow-entwined dance of theirs. They were a gay, abandoned people and I loved them. Their little show later made a big production out of doing it The Greek Way. Later, when I got paired off with a girl whose profile was straight off a Greek coin and whose body looked like a statue, I determined that here before me was all of the glory that was Greece. Naturally, in this geographical setting there was no way to bang her other than by the back-door route. Once I got her alone, I positioned her and dove headlong into the anal canal. Shades of Paris and Marie! Here in Athens, the seat (no pun intended) of Greek culture and love, I got the lousiest asshole fucking I've ever had. To add insult to injury, she didn't even have a bidet I could shit in to express my displeasure with her performance.
I was happy when we set sail again. Especially so, when the first night out I drew another round with dear old Kay Anderson. I began my photo graphic record, adding to it by snipping off a hank of cunt hair and placing it in one of the little plastic envelopes which I carefully labeled to go along with the pictures. Kay seemed like the greatest again.
The next night I drew another winner in my dear friend Helene Scott. I took a large quantity of pictures and clipped off a goodly hank of pubic hair to go with them. All through the night her talented lips and tongue did everything but tattoo me. My God, this wonderful mature girl should be hired by the Chamber of Commerce of Paris to teach the French how to go down. That educated mouth of hers even drained out my sinus cavities! Jeeze, what a blow-job!
As the beautiful yacht cruised westward and toward the end of my promiscuous sex adventure, I went through a second round with all of the lovely women I had first encountered on the eastward journey. I took hundreds of pictures and had a full dozen little plastic sacks of their pubic hairs to spark my memories in later years.
On our last night out, I drew the name Adele Ryan. At this point I could not face that grotesque grocket of hers, so I feigned seasickness. Just as I was ready to get to sleep the effects of the brandy were taking over. Since the men had no cabins, I was on deck. Someone stroked my forehead. I looked up at the lovely Martha. While I knew now that I was not really in love with her, I did feel a deep compassion for her superb body. She led me by the hand back to her cabin and we spent our last night aboard repeating all of the great experiences of our first night on this yacht.
We docked shortly after noon the following day. For the first time since we had sailed, I put on the sports jacket I had worn on departure. When I slid my hand into the side pocket, I discovered the little package Margaret had pressed upon me just before I left her in my apartment. I felt a little pang of conscience that I had forgotten both it and her since I had sailed. Opening it now, I found that she had gone to a photographer for a lovely color portrait. Wrapped with the picture was a small gold locket on a fine chain. Opening it, I found a large lock of bright copper-colored hair. It had not come from her head. I hung the locket around my neck and slid it beneath my shirt as I went out on deck and watched the Statue of Liberty raise her torch to welcome us home.
Margaret was on the pier to meet me. She had never looked lovelier. After my prolonged exposure to other women I understood, for the first time, the depth of my love for her. We took a cab back to my apartment. She had the place decked out with Welcome Home signs and cards and a bottle of chilled champagne was in the refrigerator, along with two hollow stemmed glasses. It had been a wonderful experience, but it was good to be home. After a couple of glasses of champagne, I tried to get Margaret to go to bed with me. She would have no part of it.
"You remember the deal. After this trip you were to make the decision. Either we will never see each other again, or we'll get married immediately. Which is it to be?"
"Marriage," I replied, simply and sincerely. "How soon can we tie the knot?"
"It will take three or four days for the blood tests and to get the license." She seemed very relaxed as she gave me the answer.
"Well, then, let's get the hell out of here. If we can't screw, let's go get the stupid blood tests."
She didn't wait for a minute to grab her purse and wait by the door.
Two nights later the guys at the office gave me a bachelor dinner while Margaret had dinner with Dr. Evans and Martha. She never revealed what they told her.
At eleven o'clock Saturday morning we were married. Many of the passengers from the cruise were present. I especially remember Martha, Helene Scott and Kay Anderson. After years of saving for a terrific honeymoon, we had blown all that on my trip, so we got aboard the New York Central railroad and headed for Niagara Falls. How corny can you get? We took a cab across the bridge and stayed for three days and nights at the lovely old Prince George Hotel on the Canadian side of the Niagara River. Some day we plan to go back and see the falls.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
All of this happened a long, long time ago. Margaret and I recently celebrated our sixteenth wedding anniversary. We have three beautiful children in junior high school now. Our oldest son is Bob, Jr. Then we have a second son, Rex, named for our dear friend, Dr. Evans and little Martha. Margaret showed her mettle at accepting that name for her only daughter.
Somewhere upstairs, in a closet, are the fading pictures I took on that return voyage and the little plastic packs of dried cunthairs that go with them. Beneath my shirt I still wear the gold locket full of coppery short hairs that Margaret gave me as a bon voyage gift.
At the dinner table tonight our number two son, Rex, gave us a long rundown on the new sex education lessons he was getting in his school. He displayed his textbook on sex and marriage. It was written by a Dr. Martha A. Marlowe who was described as America's leading sexologist. The foreword told how she had taken over the practice of the eminent late Dr. Rex Evans.
"How can that old dame know anything about sex?" Rex asked. "It says here that she's never been married."
"Why are you asking the folks?" Bob, Jr. asked. "They wouldn't understand all this modern stuff. You know what squares they are. Maybe it would be different if they'd have had a program of sex education in Dad's day."
Margaret looked at me across the table. The lights from the crystal chandelier reflected in the copper hair, streaked with gray now. She gave me a long wink with one of those huge emerald green eyes.
Later we all retired to the library to watch color television. Like my dreams and memories of sexual promiscuity, most of the shows were reruns.
