3 comments/ 18625 views/ 2 favorites All at Sea By: adam applebiter I knew it'd be like this. I said it would be like this, almost from the start, but was I listened to? Of course not. Heavens! Where would we be if people started listening to their kids? Not on a bloody cruise, that's for sure. And when I say kid, I'm 42: Hardly a minor, except in my mother's eyes where I still wear short pants. Ok, so I could have just said no, but then my parents wouldn't be here either and I'd spend the next few years hearing about the cruise they never had. So I caved. I agreed to come along and here I am, stuck on a boatful of old people, feeling like a teenager and damned certain I'm not going to find one. The deal was simple: My parents paid my fare so I'd be available to push my Dad's wheelchair around various ports of call but the rest of the time was mine to waste as I pleased. I'd held out for a stateroom nowhere near theirs and with a double bed because I like my own space. Four days out of Southampton, I was sitting by one of the Oriana's pools, reduced to ogling a woman my own age. Where's the fun in that? Where were the nubile nymphs in skimpy bikinis that should be parading around a floating swimming pool en route to the Mediterranean? The only good thing about the lack of distractions was that I was finally finishing writing my first novel. "Oops! Sorry. What are you writing?" The oglee from the pool stood in front of me and 'accidentally' dripped on my netbook. As I reached for a napkin to dab the drop of water off the screen, she sat down opposite me. "My mother warned me not to talk to strangers." "She probably told you off for staring at them too, but it doesn't stop you. I'm Aud." She leant forward, made a long arm and helped herself to my OJ. Her accent was very Home Counties and distinctly Money. "Adam." I introduced myself, grateful for the interruption after four days of 'young man…' and 'Sonny…' and myopic sidelong glances at the scruffy young man with the long hair (meaning me) who was probably only on board to rob them all and make off with a small fortune (very small) in amethyst earrings. "So Adam, what are you writing?" She fished an ice cube out of the OJ and sucked on it, ignoring a drip of juice that fell into her cleavage. I didn't ignore it: my eyes followed the damp trail of the drop from where it hit her skin until it disappeared into the shadows between her breasts. "Adam?" Aud snapped my attention back to her face. She was smiling. "Sorry… I…" I searched in vain for an excuse. "You didn't answer my question." She dropped the ice back in the glass and sipped my drink. "A novel. A romance." "A romance novel? You don't look the sort to be writing that kind of book. What's it called?" "'Adventures in Doggerel and Dogma.' It's about an agnostic poet's infatuation with a beautiful, young and very devout Catholic girl. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually write about but I had a load of cheesy poems I wanted to find a use for and the novel gives me an excuse to publish them." "Hmm." Aud put down the glass. "So what do you usually write? Anything I might have read?" "Oh dear. Here comes the conversation stopper… I write pornographic short stories and publish them online." "Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "Not Literotica by any chance?" "Yes." I was pleasantly surprised she'd heard of it. "You know, I've been reading stories on there for years. Oh, this is marvellous!" She actually clapped her hands together. "What's your pen name?" "Adam Applebiter." "Doesn't ring any bells, but there are so many authors aren't there?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Anyway, what brought you on board the Oriana?" "My parents. Dad's in a wheelchair and Mum's too old to push him around so I got volunteered to come along. Though God only knows why they wanted a cruise: The food's too rich for them, they're both on medication that keeps them away from bars and half the ports of call aren't wheelchair accessible. Waste of money really. How come you're here?" "My husband's the captain. Ex husband, I should say. We've been happily divorced for five years now. I don't like flying and he's got a big boat so it sort of makes sense to travel by sea. What about you? Married?" "Never even close to it. I have commitment issues. I do have a son though: He's training to be a commercial pilot." "We never had children." Aud's smile faded. "Sorry. Sore point?" "A bit. It's another good reason for cruising. This tub's strictly grown-ups." "And there was me thinking the porn would be the conversation stopper. Another drink? Something with a higher octane level than orange juice?" "No. Thank you." Her smile returned, but I didn't believe it. "I think I'd better go and get changed before lunch." She stood quickly. "See you around, Adam." "It was nice to meet you." I stood too, offering my hand. She took it and shook it. "Where did that OJ go?" I glanced down the front of her bikini, following the now dry, but slightly sticky looking trail left by that errant drop of orange juice. "Down boy." She pushed me back into my seat but the smile was convincing again. "Bad dog!" she shook an admonishing finger at me, turned and sashayed away along the deck. Watching her hips swaying as she left, I thought whatever the reason, the lack of kids had its up side: no stretch marks and a very trim figure. When Aud was out of sight I packed up my gear, strolled back to my stateroom and had a very satisfying manual orgasm while thinking about her. * * * * * "Did you go ashore yesterday?" Aud found me in the gym a couple of days later, putting in a few miles on an exercise bike. She looked great in lycra with just a hint of perspiration. I must have looked a wreck. I could feel my vest clinging damply to me and more than a little sweat had dripped off my nose onto the frame of the bike. "Hello again." I gasped. "Yes. Give me two minutes and I'll tell you all about it." I glanced at the timer on the console in front of me: Just under two minutes to go. "I'll be in the spa." Aud walked away. I watched that hip action again for a few seconds, then put on a burst of speed for the last minute. After a quick shower I slipped into the Jacuzzi opposite Aud. There was an elderly couple in there with us who had been with my parent's and I yesterday for the tour of Athens. "Hello again. Adam, isn't it?" I was recognised by the Jenkins's. "Hi Mr Jenkins… Mrs Jenkins." I was polite, but I kept my eyes on Aud, whose smile mocked me. "Did you enjoy the Acropolis?" "Very much. It was my first visit you know? But Ralph…" Mrs Jenkins glanced at her husband. "Ralph has been there before." "During my national service. I was a photographer. Used to have to photograph every building and vehicle for Whitehall. Somebody used to look at my photographs and decide what needed a coat of paint." Ralph Jenkins smiled wistfully. "I hope they didn't decide to repaint the Acropolis." I made a lame joke. "Oh, I didn't photograph the Acropolis." He missed the point. "I had a few days leave and caught a boat there to see the sights." "Ralph." Mrs Jenkins interrupted. "I think he's teasing you. Adam? Have you been to Greece before?" "No Mrs Jenkins, but I've read a lot about it." "Guide books don't do it justice do they?" "You misunderstand me. When I said I read all about it, I meant Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylos and Homer, not the Rough Guide." I treated Mrs Jenkins, former schoolteacher and intellectual snob, to my best patronising smile. "In the original Greek mind you. My grandfather insisted." I noticed Aud trying not to laugh. "You read the classics?" Mrs Jenkins sounded surprised. "For one of my degrees." I nodded. "And, in a way, for both of them: Geometry, starting with Euclid." I pulled academic rank on her. It was a bit cruel really, because she couldn't help the way she was. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to shut my eyes for a few minutes. I'm exhausted." I slipped down lower in the water and shut my eyes, relaxing as the turbulence massaged my back. "You can open your eyes now. They're gone." Aud's voice in my ear roused me. I must have actually dozed off while feigning sleep. "Old people! They're a waste of hot dinners." I sat up properly, noticing how much closer Aud was than before. "Be nice." She admonished. Sitting back a bit. The water was deeper this side of the tub and came up to her neck, depriving me of a decent view. "I've been reading your stories." "Really?" "Yes. Really. You're quite a pervert, aren't you?" "They are fantasies. Don't believe everything you read." "But they're such vivid fantasies and there are recurring themes. I feel I know so much about you now – sexually." "Which ones did you read? And which did you enjoy most?" I wanted to know what she was into, to redress the balance in the 'knowing each others dirty little secrets' stakes. "'Who shaves The Barber?' is my favourite. Suzy's so in control. 'A Brace of Pheasant' is good too. I liked the way that kept doing flashbacks. 'The Place Of Remembering' was really kind of sweet. You know, Adam, I think after reading that one I do believe you could write a romance. I've only read part one of TLC but I like the characters already. Sabine is another 'in control' woman." "So your favourites are the stories with lesbian characters. Interesting." And I was interested: I'd never actually met one of my readers before and Aud was amazingly attractive for someone respectably close to my own age. To be honest, I'm shallow about looks and like young flesh. "And you have an anal fixation. You appear to be particularly fond of analingus. Hmm?" "Like I said before, they're fantasies." Hell! Why not admit it? "I haven't found a girl who'll let me try that yet, but it sure looks fun in the movies." "Honestly?" "Honestly. I haven't had lesbian sex either, but I write about it plenty." "Ditto. But as you said, it sure looks fun in the movies. I guess I just haven't met the right girl… yet." "Aud, shall I tell you the difference between my stories and reality?" "Go on." "If this was one of my stories, I wouldn't have to tell you how hard I am right now." "And if this was a story, what would I do with that information?" "Something terribly rude that would ultimately lead to an afternoon of debauchery in your stateroom." "And in the real world?" "Well… if you were going to get offended, you would already have got out of the tub so lets assume you're at least a bit flattered. You're also clearly enjoying teasing me. I reckon the main inhibiting factor is that steward with all the towels. I'll bet she knows who you are and you don't want to embarrass your ex-husband." "Or myself. Yes, the crew know me. At least, quite a few of them do. I'm glad you realise there are far more boundaries in the real world." "Oh, I know all about boundaries, but if I may cross one briefly, this isn't the first time you've left me high and dry. I'll be able to give my porn collection the night off again after this conversation." "You masturbated because a drop of orange juice ran down my cleavage?" Aud recalled my fixation from our first encounter. "And the view of you walking away. As you pointed out, I have an anal fixation and you really are callipygian." "I remember that word from 'Barber'. I had to look it up. You're not going ashore with your parents today? The island of Lesbos should appeal to you." the subject suddenly got changed. "Can't. Dad can't get in and out of a launch so I'm off duty until Istanbul." She stood, moving to the steps. Pausing at the top, incidentally allowing me the best view yet of her bottom, she glanced back and said "Then you can make use of that classical education and be my personal tour guide for the day. We can catch the tender at eleven o'clock if we hurry." I had to wait a couple of minutes for my erection to subside before I got out of the water. * * * * * "So this is the home of girl on girl action." Aud whispered as we stood on the quayside at Mytilene. "Actually, Sappho came from the other side of the island, Ereros, and while the words 'sapphic' and 'lesbian' derive their etymology from her and here, they were first used as euphemisms for female homosexuality by the Victorians. Lesbos was the island's patron deity and was masculine, not feminine." "You sound like a proper tour guide. I hope you're not going to keep that up. We're supposed to be having a bit of fun." "I could have fun back in my stateroom. You dragged me ashore to torment me some more. You're a prick teaser." "Like Sabine?" Aud mentioned one of my characters and the penny dropped. "So you are going to let me mmm mm mm mmmm?" I struggled to complete my question while Aud dragged me into a doorway and kissed me for the first time. She didn't hold back. Her tongue dove into my mouth, flicking over my own then retreating, taunting me to give chase. I stopped trying to understand Aud and threw all my attention into kissing her. I was very aware of her hard nipples as her breasts pressed against my chest. I was soon aware of my own hardness too, hot against her flat belly as she pulled herself against me. I let my hands slide from the small of her back to her bottom and cradled her buttocks in my hands, feeling, even at that remove, the warmth between her legs. "That's enough." She pulled away from me. "I just wanted you focused on what we're doing here." "Keeping me frustrated is what we're doing." "Until midnight." She patted my cheek affectionately. "Tell me some more about this island." She hooked her arm through mine and drew me out of our shadowy doorway. "Ok." With her tacit promise of a shag tonight I played along. "Sappho isn't the only famous poet from here. Before her there was Areion, who invented the dithyramb style of verse – the progenitor of tragedy. Then there was Terpander: a gifted poet but most famous for adding three strings to the lyre and inventing the seven note scale. Alcaeus is probably the most famous poet of this island apart from Sappho, whom he was romantically linked with." "So Sappho liked men too?" "So it would seem. Perhaps she was just teasing him because she knew he wanted to fuck her. That goes on a lot on this island." "Does it?" Aud glanced sideways at me and appeared to think for a moment before stopping, forcing me to stop too, and whispering, "I'm not just teasing you. We have ten more days on the Oriana and I want to test out some of your fantasies because I've had quite a few lovers but none of them ever talked about sex the way you do in your stories. Patience, Adam, I decided yesterday that I wanted to fuck you. We're going to have a great holiday. Now tell me more about Sappho." I do love hearing posh girls use the f word. Feeling mighty manly all of a sudden, I swung Aud around for another kiss, before carrying on with 'the tour'. "She wrote about three girls in particular: Atthis, Anactoria and … what was her name? … Gyrinna. Here's a sexy bit of trivia. Atthis is also the name of a genus of hummingbirds." "Why's that sexy?" "Heinrich Gustav Reichenbach named them. He was an orchidologist. He observed these particular hummingbirds feeding from orchids." "So?" "Patience." I admonished Aud gently. "In Robert Heinlein's Notebooks Of Lazarus Long, Lazarus makes the cryptic comment 'Have you noticed how much they look like orchids? Lovely.' It took me a while to realize he was talking about pussy." "Yes, I can see that. But only when they're held open." "Which is the best way to see them. Anyway, the point is a 19th century orchid expert saw a hummingbird dipping its tongue into a pussy shaped flower to suck up its sweet juices and decided to name it after a famous rug muncher's young girlfriend." "Not the most romantic way of putting it." Aud flashed me a stern glance. "I didn't say it was romantic, I said it was sexy. Tell me about you. What do you do when you're not cruising?" "The same thing I do when I am cruising: spend my husband's money." "Your ex-husband?" "My late husband. Please don't be shocked but I married for money. I was twenty and beautiful, he was forty-five and very wealthy. He doted on me, showered me with gifts, offered so much I never thought I would have. It was wonderful for a few years, until my second miscarriage." Aud looked deeply unhappy recounting this. I drew her to a low wall and we sat. She continued. "The doctors said our only chance of a baby was via a surrogate. That was when Cyril started to lose interest in me. He really wanted a son and I wasn't going to provide him with one. We went through the motions, attending fertility clinics, finding a surrogate, I went through the quite painful procedure of having my eggs harvested, and – equally painfully – I turned a blind eye to Cyril's affairs with other women. Before we had a chance to finalize the surrogacy, Cyril got one of his secretaries pregnant and asked me for a divorce. I told him if he tried to divorce me, I'd drag every one of his dalliances into court. I had names, addresses and photographs too, because I'm not a fool and I'd hired a private detective months before. Cyril called me all sorts of unpleasant names then collapsed: a massive heart attack. The secretary tried to sue for half the estate on behalf of her unborn child but as soon as it was born – a girl, not the boy Cyril had wanted – a paternity test proved Cyril wasn't the father. And that's my shameful story." "Can I ask a personal question?" "You can ask. I may not answer it." "How old are you?" "38." "You're in your prime, deeply desirable and loaded. How come you're on holiday alone?" "Because I wanted to get away from everyone. I've just split up with someone. You're going to be my rebound relationship." "Fair enough. I like to know where I stand. I'll make you a deal: I'll be your rebound relationship if you'll be my muse for my next erotic story." "Mister, we have a deal." Aud shook my hand firmly and was smiling again. "But we still have to find something fun to do until midnight." "I think lunch might be a good place to start. This island is famous for its ouzo." "Ok, but remember you don't have to get me drunk." * * * * * We had a pleasant enough afternoon: we visited the amphitheatre and I got at least one finger past her guard during one of our frequent cuddles. She turned out to be seriously turned on. There was enough moisture on my finger to draw a smilie on the stone step we were sitting on. Aud laughed and I photographed it for posterity. Sure, I could have licked my finger instead: I thought about it, but decided that my first taste of Aud's pussy was going to be a proper taste. So I went for the humorous touch instead and got another kiss for making her laugh. I dined with my parents that night, told them all about Mytilene, omitting any mention of Aud – they'd only want to meet her and I am ashamed of my parents. Instead I waxed lyrical about the history of the island, its poets and its pivotal role in the politics of the ancient world, the famous rebellion, the massacre that never was, the mercy dash 186 miles overnight from Athens, by trireme, to spare the population of Mytilene. Others at my parents' table had questions, which I answered at length until my mother was bored enough to be convinced she'd had a lucky escape – not having gone ashore with me. Dad likes history in small doses and mainly when it's about the industrial revolution. Mum's interest in the subject stops at period dramas. When the oldies all wandered off to see one of the live shows the Oriana hosted, I pleaded fatigue – it had been a long day in the sun and we were in Istanbul in the morning – and retired early to see what midnight would bring. All at Sea Dark story with no actual sex, and not really erotic in any way. For your info, 'a brief' in the Uk is the nickname for a barrister, or the lawyer who represents you in court. It is a revenge story, but not a conventional BTB tale. You've been warned! ++++++++++ There's no good way to discover that your wife has had sex with another man, but believe me, some are worse than others. But surely, the way that I found out must be the very worst of all. --------------------- It was a day like so many others that had preceded it, and the weather for that matter, from what I remember of it, was nothing exceptional. What was abnormal was that when I got home that evening, my wife of six years wasn't there. Robyn worked part time in an insurance office for some guy called Tom Blowers, and had been there for six months or so, and would normally be home by that time. I'd been away on business for a few days and had been looking forward to being welcomed back into my lovely young wife's arms. Her not being there didn't especially worry me, but unfortunately my lack of concern was about to be blown out of the water. An hour later and I was beginning to get concerned, when the front door bell rang. I jumped up and made for the door, speculating whether maybe Robyn had lost her key, but opening the door I was surprised to find two police officers standing there. "Mr. John Fielding?" He asked calmly. "That's me," I answered, wondering what they could want. "Your wife is Robyn Fielding?" "That's correct," I confirmed, my insides turning to lead as I imagined what bad news that question could mean. It did! Much worse than I could ever have expected. "I'm very sorry Sir, but we have some bad news for you." ------------------ The rest was a blur, and you'll have to excuse me if I won't, or rather can't repeat it word for word. The bad news of course was that my Robyn, my beautiful young wife, was no longer with us. She wasn't home with my dinner ready on the table for the simple reason that some poor unfortunate soul had been dragging her lifeless body out of the river. She wouldn't be there with my dinner ready the next day or the day after that. I cried a lot over that next few days. I cried and called out to the God that I'd never believed in to demand how he could be so cruel. I opened her drawers and cupboards and stared for hours at her clothes and underwear, unable to accept that I would never again see any of them on my lovely wife any more. People were good, or tried to be, but how could they console the inconsolable? I hardly knew her parents who lived abroad, but even so, ringing them with the news was simply awful. None of them could bring my Robyn back? Just when I thought I had reached the bottom of the pit, things got worse. They had no idea how Robyn could have ended up in the river on a perfectly normal spring day, or even why she should have been down in that part of the town. A post-mortem was duly carried out, and to my shock it was discovered that Robyn had taken a whole load of tablets, probably sleeping tablets, shortly before entering the water. The term suicide was being bandied about, but at that stage, not directly to me. The police came to see me and asked, maybe told me, that when I felt ready they would need to speak to me down at the station. I didn't want to, not wishing to accept that Robyn would do such a thing, or that she would have any reason for doing so. God, I hadn't honestly accepted yet that she wouldn't be walking in the door any minute, with that enticing little giggle that I'd fell in love with so quickly. It was soon after I'd seen those policemen out, that for the first time since that awful night I opened my lap top to reluctantly check up on my e mails, and it was then that I found it. I found the object that sent my life swirling even further down the pan of life, a single sheet of paper. The handwriting on it was Robyn's that I knew so well, the blotches smudging her words, so obviously her tears dropping onto the paper as she wrote them. My darling, lovely husband, By the time you read this I will be gone. I'm sorry my love for the heartbreak this must cause you, but I simply can't go on. I can't live with myself any longer for what I have done to you and our marriage. Three days ago Tom asked me to stay on at the office for ten minutes after the others had left to help him finish some paperwork, but that wasn't his real reason. I'm not sure if it qualified as rape, but he forced himself on me. I swear to you John that I tried to fight him off, but he was just so much stronger than me, and I was soon exhausted and simply gave up. He stripped me and finger fucked me, and God help me John, I succumbed to him. The next thing I knew he had me over the desk and was fucking me, and I was squealing at him to fuck me harder. The only reason I know this is because afterwards he let me get dressed, but wouldn't let me leave till he'd shown me the video he'd taken of the whole thing, and made it clear that within the hour it would be edited to show the world how I'd encouraged him and been a willing partner. That is of course, unless I allowed him to enjoy my body again. I went home that night and cried myself to sleep. I swear I would have confessed to you that night, but you were away for four days up north on that trade show, and by the time you came back Tom had threatened to expose me to you, our friends, my parents and the whole world. I couldn't think straight and you weren't there to help me and I gave in to his demands to have sex with him once more to keep him quiet. Of course that was stupid of me but it was too late by then and he blackmailed me into continuing. I'm sorry my love, but I can't take it any more and I've got to end it. I can't face you when you come back and I can't face the world, and I pray that you'll forgive me for taking the easy way out. I hope that you'll find it in yourself to forgive me for what I've done, and pray that you'll get over me and find another woman who is more deserving. Your loving wife, Robyn. ------------------- Words may exist to describe my feelings after reading the letter, but I can't seem to string them together. I should have gone straight to the police, but the thought never occurred to me, but if I had, then my story would have been very different. I sat there remembering about how we'd met. I'd left school and joined the Merchant Navy rather than going onto university, and soon found myself on a super tanker in the middle of the ocean. Royal Dutch Shell didn't believe in spending too much time in schooling their new officer cadets before they could prove that they could show that they could adapt to a life at sea. No good spending money only to find out that I was seasick all the time or missed my mummy too much. It was a case of being thrown in the deep end and swimming or sinking, and out there in the middle of the ocean, sinking didn't seem to be an attractive option. Over the next few years our stop over in ports around the world were shorter than the Royal Navy enjoyed, but our officer's uniforms seemed to be as attractive to the local ladies and our higher wages probably even more so. Not that I went with the professional ladies, though the distinction between them and some of my bed-mates was sometimes somewhat blurred. The first woman on my first shore leave may well have been the exception, though I would have been too drunk to know the difference. If she was, then it wasn't me who paid her, but it isn't unknown for shipmates to make sure that the new boys don't go home still a virgin. That basically summed up my love life, till one day the company decided I had a particular skill that they decided to use back on shore in the company technical office, and I started a new direction for my career, with the promise that I could transfer back to the ships if it didn't suit me. I decided that it suited me just fine, the third week back on shore, when at a party I was introduced to Robyn. She was like no girl I'd ever met before, and I hardly knew how to behave with her. Till then I'd virtually never dated a girl without ending up in bed with her the first night. Not unless I got too drunk or involved in a brawl before we got there, and yes, when your young and stupid, even the officers got into fights. In uniform we were the picture of calm authority, but out in civvies, then we were as crazy as the next young guy, and the three years I'd spent as an amateur boxer in school, often came in handy. Not that I was really any good at it, but a little training goes a long way. But Robyn was different to other girls I'd been with, and I swear that it was her that dropped the first hint that maybe after four weeks we should be 'moving on in our relationship' as she put it. So move on we did, and a year later we tied the knot. Six more years later and the knot had been suddenly and cruelly severed, and wiping my tears away, I decided that someone was going to pay, and there was only one person who could pay for taking my Robyn away from me. I should have gone to the police, but as I've said, I didn't, but found myself pushing open the door to that bloody insurance agency, with little memory of how I'd got there. Brushing aside the questions of the receptionist, I charged through the door into Tom, bloody Blowers' office and confronted him. "You bastard!" I shouted at him. "Mr Fielding," he gasped back, leaping to his feet and keeping the desk between us. "We're all so sorry to hear about your wife." "Sorry?" I queried angrily. "You fucking murdered her." "Now look Mr Fielding, I think ...." "Never mind what you think," I interrupted him. "You were blackmailing her you bastard." "Rubbish," he shouted back at me. "I've got proof." "You can't prove a thing," he glared back at me, removing, if there was any doubt at all, that Robyn's letter was the truth. "Wait till the police read this then," I screamed at him, holding Robyn's letter up in front of his face for him to read. "The stupid bitch," he snapped, only having time to read the first few lines, at which point something inside me snapped. Tom was bigger and heavier than me, but not by much, and unlike him I had learnt to scrap in some of the roughest ports in the world, and he probably hadn't swung a fist in anger since he left school. I chased him round the desk, Tom trying to keep it between us, till he thought he saw a chance to surprise me. The punch was so long coming that I could have ducked easily, but I didn't even bother. His punch landed, but before he had a chance to prepare another, I'd hit him four or five times, knocking him to the floor. In my haste to inflict further punishment, I shoved angrily at the desk to get at him, only managing to upturn it on top of him. The bugger scurried behind it, trying to protect himself from the flurry of punches and kicks I rained down on him, screaming in frustration that I couldn't get at his face to kick his teeth into the back of his scull. ----------------- It may have been the noise, it may have been the angry way I pushed past the receptionist, and possibly there was a squad car nearby, but the next thing I knew the boys in blue were dragging me off the bloody mess below me, apparently tazering me when in my fury, I turned on them as well. I woke up in prison aching all over, surprised at my own violence, but not regretting it. I hoped I had killed him whatever the consequences, and vowed that I would one day, when I discovered that I hadn't. For the first time in my life, I discovered what it felt to really hate someone. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but maybe in some strange way it eased my pain of losing my wife. The brain only has a certain capacity for emotion, I suppose, and the sorrow that had so dominated me, had to make room for the hate that I then had. Tom was in hospital pretty badly beaten up, and I knew that I'd probably have to pay for that, but with the evidence I had of his blackmail, then he would suffer even worse at the hands of the court. That thought allowed me to settle down a little, until another suddenly hit me like an express train. My evidence! Where was it? In my haste to go and smash his face in, it hadn't occurred to me to make a copy of Robyn's letter, and when the police had dragged me out from Tom's office, then what had happened to it? Oh Shit! I convinced myself that justice would prevail and that the letter would turn up, but it simply never did. The state that Tom had been in, then it was doubtful that he'd been able to dispose of it, and the secretary/receptionist denied having seen it when questioned by the police. I pleaded and came to tears, trying to persuade the law to pursue the matter, but alas to no avail. What it came down to was my word against his that the letter even existed, and the mindset I was in, my sanity must have been under some suspicion. I'm pretty sure the investigating officer, deep down believed my story, but without evidence, even I had to accept in the end that the case was dead in the water. Not so my case! I'd given Tom a thorough beating and when asked if he wanted to press charges, he went for it. Not content with being responsible for my wife's death, he now wanted revenge on me. Not only that, but his solicitor opposed bail for me while I awaited trial, telling the court that his client was afraid for his safety if I was let out. He was justified of course, though it wasn't so much his safety, as his life he should have been worrying about, and when bail was refused, my hate just about went off the scale. ---------------- The court case could have gone worse, all things considered, and I think I smiled for the first time in months when Tom limped up to give evidence, the marks that I'd put on him still evident. He avoided looking at me throughout his questioning, while my glare in his direction never wavered, and I did wonder if that affected some of the jury. The prosecution bought up the fact that I'd done some boxing, and made it sound as if I'd been a professional or something, and that I was a dangerous man out of control. My guy pointed out that it had been at a low level when I was at school and had no bearing on the case. My thoughts were that if my boxing was a problem, then they should have been concerned that I'd played soccer as well, because for sure I'd done him more damage by kicking him than with my fists, since he'd been hiding under that desk. The other thing that went my way, was when my brief asked Tom if he thought I was justified in attacking him after blackmailing my wife and causing her suicide. "Objection!" shouted out the prosecuting brief, and the good judge, quite correctly, unfortunately, allowed it, telling my man to be careful what he said, and instructing the jury to ignore the question. "Ok," my guy continued, facing Tom. "Accepting that my client -- thought - that you were blackmailing his wife, then do you think he was ....." Which is as far as he got before there was another cry of "Objection your honour." Uproar! It took a good ten minutes to regain quiet in the court, with another instruction to the jury to ignore my man's words, and a pretty firm telling off for him as well. The prosecutor demanded a recess, but the judge refused, giving him a hard time also, a mild hint that he believed the blackmail accusation, even though he couldn't allow it to be aired in his courtroom. When it came to my turn to give evidence it all started over again. When asked why I had beaten my late wife's employer up, and yes my man phrased it that way, it gave me my chance to say my piece, but choosing my words carefully. "After my wife committed suicide," I started, hesitating and looking straight at the jury to make sure they took it all in. "I found a letter from her telling me why she'd done so." The prosecuting brief leapt to his feet, but was beaten to it by the judge, who waved him to sit down, warning me to be careful what I said, and asking where this letter was now. "I left it in Blower's office when I went to beat him up for what he did to my wife," I replied, the judge waving down the other side's guy as he leapt to his feet again. "Mr Fielding," he lectured me sternly. "I've warned you to be careful what you say in my court." "How can I answer the question honestly, if I'm not allowed to talk about that bastard raping my wife and then blackmailing her and causing her to commit suicide?" I managed to get in before the court erupted again. Shouts of 'objection' and 'order in the court' rang out, and this time everyone seemed to leap to their feet, even a couple of the jurors standing up and shouting, to add to the confusion. This time it was my guy who asked for a recess, and I think it was with relief that the judge granted it, ordering the two lawyers to his chambers immediately. ------------------ I was never privy to what was discussed between the three of them, but before the case resumed later that afternoon, I was warned by my brief that though prosecution was a certainty, I'd had my day and I should keep my mouth shut, and it would go well for me. Sure enough, I wasn't recalled to the stand, and the whole thing was wrapped up pretty quickly. The judge clearly directed the jury that whatever justification I might or might not have had, that my admitted attack on Blowers was a criminal offence. They went out to consider and were back in no time at all, with a guilty verdict but a recommendation for leniency. The judge duly gave me three months, which disappointed me till he pointed out that I was now a free man, having already spent that time in prison on remand. The papers and local news channels picked up on it, and I kept my head down having been warned that any inappropriate remarks by me, could end up with me back in front of the judge. The innuendo however was rife, and though it didn't last long as a news interest, Blower's reputation was in tatters, and his business failed within six months. I was left feeling pretty pleased with the way things had turned out, and decided that Tom wasn't worth the risk of killing. I'd only spent three months in jail, but that was enough to know that I didn't want to go back there. I'd forgiven Robyn, in fact decided that there was nothing to forgive, except perhaps that she had acted unwisely, and that she'd left me on my own in this world. I knew I'd never forgive Blowers though, but took the decision that I wasn't going to do anything about it. The end! No way! -------------------- A year passed, and I was relieved that my company took me back, though I never really felt entirely comfortable in the office again. I kept an eye on what Blowers was up to, which didn't seem to be much during that first year. I don't know where he got the money from, but at the end of that year, he set up another office in a town about forty miles away. It wasn't such a big affair and the actual office was not so well appointed, but I hadn't forgotten what he'd done and it was too good for the likes of him. I caught him leaving his office one dark winter evening, and he may have guessed who it was, but had no real chance of confirming it. The first time it may have been considered a fair fight, but this time it wasn't. I didn't draw out the punishment, as I had a time scale to get back to where I still was officially, and the iron bar I'd taken to the party allowed me to do that. I could have killed him, but I no longer wanted to. I could have beaten him to a pulp, but I didn't want to. I wanted him hurt, but not so badly that he wouldn't recover in a few months, knowing, though he wouldn't be able to prove it, that it was me, and that I'd be back again. And again! All at Sea The police visited of course, but I had a watertight alibi, having never left the ship that I'd spent the evening on visiting some old friends of mine, and you can't get much more watertight than a ship, can you. I was no longer sure that I much liked the person I'd become, but I was on a mission and that's all that seemed to count. I couldn't face dating, but for the first time in my life, paid several women to scratch an itch that needed dealing with, but was always left feeling somehow unsatisfied, wanting the women to get out as soon as possible afterwards. My life was on hold it seemed and I had no idea how long it would be so. I knew I needed to change my life, so I took up the option of going back to sea, one that by then, most of the other people in my office breathed a sigh of relief about. The other thing that I didn't need a psychologist to tell me was that I had to lose my obsession about making Blowers pay. It was ruining my life and I had to get over it. I hated the bastard, but that hate was destroying my life, more than it was his. Stupid eh! Easy. Back to sea and all would be well, but of course it didn't work out that way, did it. It was a few days before I was due to embark, off on my way to Kuwait for the fourth time that year, when it happened. Purely by chance, when walking down the street I virtually bumped into ...... Him! "You bastard," he growled, stood there, just three feet between us. "Get lost," I threw back at him, backing off as he advanced on me. "You're going to pay Fielding," he threatened, and suddenly all my good intentions disappeared as if by magic. I had him. I had him where I wanted him and he had no idea. I had him, and I was going to take the absolute best advantage of it. He took a swing at me, and I ducked somewhat clumsily, checking around to make sure that that there were plenty of witnesses around us to confirm what was happening. That it was him making an unprovoked attack on me. He aimed another badly aimed punch at me, and this time I allowed his fist to graze my chin, exaggerating the effect by staggering back wards, my boxing days, limited though they were, coming back to me. Again he leapt forward at me, another swing catching me somewhat unprepared and snapping my head back. Fuck, that one hurt! Almost automatically, I released a straight left into his face, feeling something break under my fist, followed by a right aimed at his unprotected chin as he staggered back. I missed! I aimed too low and missed his chin by a good few inches. I missed his chin and smacked right into his throat, feeling his Adam's apple crush under the force of my punch. He crumpled. I moved in to beat the hell out of him, but he crumpled into a heap before me, clutching at his throat and coughing awfully. I lined up to give him a kick where it would hurt most, but stopped, breathed in deeply and stepped back from him. He wasn't worth it. Not while there were so many witnesses around to recount what had happened. Now it was my turn. ------------------- An hour later I was in the local police station, swearing out a complaint with the names and addresses of five people who had witnessed his unprovoked attack on me. He was going down! This time it was bloody Blowers who was stood there in the dock, and me in the witness stand. It was a lower court with just a magistrate rather than a judge, mainly because neither of us had ended up in hospital. I'd sort of hoped for a life sentence with hard labour, chained up in a dungeon in the Tower of London, but had to settle for a three month suspended sentence. Not really much of a surprise to be honest. Might not seem much but it was somehow a salve to my anger, and even if it didn't make my hate disappear entirely, then my pressing need for revenge, at least receded. I started to tell myself that though he had caused my wife to take her own life, then he hadn't meant it to end that way. I even began to blame myself for not being there that night when she came home and so wasn't there for her to confess to. The only thing I didn't query in my mind, was that none of this was Robyn's fault. Her memory was sacrosanct. I wasn't doing this for him, but myself. I knew that my hate was consuming me and that if I was going to get on with my life and climb out of the bottomless pit that I was tumbling into, then I had to do something. In desperation I even went as far as going to see a counsellor. Not one of your expensive, highly qualified, psycho shrink types in a fancy office, but just some pretty ordinary everyday guy with a lot of experience of life; a good listener, with some plain, sensible and sometimes bloody obvious advice to offer. The main advice he offered me was that I couldn't simply hide my grief and hate away, but that I had to confront it. In order to confront it, then I had to forgive Blowers! If I couldn't then I would carry on being a very unhappy man, and my life wouldn't be worth living. Till I got rid of the hate, then I wouldn't be able to go through the grieving period, as I has to. He suggested, and I took on board, that in order for it to work, my forgiveness had to be known to Blowers, and the best way to do that was to confront him and forgive him to his face. Not easy I know, but this counsellor fellow was pretty convincing and it was perhaps the only way forward, as unpalatable as it might be. So that's what I did and it did work perfectly, one hundred percent you might say. The point is though, that it didn't work out quite in the manner that the counsellor thought it would. ------------------ It took me three days to track him down, his second agency having failed when his licence was revoked now that he had a criminal record. I discovered him working in an office for some car insurance specialist, filling in claim forms or whatever. He didn't want to meet up with me of course, but I convinced him otherwise, and I eventually got to meet him on neutral ground, in a local park. We sat either end of a secluded park bench, eyeing one another nervously, both wanting to get this meeting over and done with. "So what's this meeting about Fielding?" He demanded. "I forgive you," I blurted out, nearly choking on my words, but desperate to say my piece and disappear. "What?" He spluttered in surprise. "I forgive you," I repeated, the words even harder to say the second time. "I know what you did to my wife, but I forgive you." "Why?" "Because I need to in order to move on," I told him, though even as I spoke the words, suddenly I knew that this wasn't going to be the magic solution I was seeking. This just wasn't going to work. "But I forced her," he smirked at me. "I bloody near on raped her that first time." "I know," I forced myself to say, gripping the arms of the bench to prevent myself from assaulting him. "Bugger me Fielding," he laughed out loud. "She wasn't even a good fuck." Later, much later, I convinced myself that it was all his fault and that he'd really said the wrong thing at the wrong moment. His words made me see red, and the original purpose of this meeting was forgotten. I had a couple of cuts on my face afterwards so he must have made some effort to fight back, and I have vague memories of him begging for mercy. I can recall the satisfying feeling of my fist breaking something on his face for the second time since our conflict began, and of his screams as I kicked the bastard repeatedly. I can't remember very much more; not even of walking away and leaving him there. I remained in a bit of a daze till that evening when I climbed up the gangway to my ship, outbound for Saudi Arabia. ------------------- If I'd thought about it, then I should have been surprised that I even made it as far as the ship without being picked up by the police; but make it I did. Not only that, but I was never once interviewed or even contacted about Tom Blowers' murder. Yes, that's right, you heard me correctly. Blowers wasn't an important guy, but his murder made the headlines. Not because of him, but initially due to the man that they arrested for killing him. Mike Jones was his name, and if that name is familiar, then it's because he was a pretty well known local hoodlum, involved in all manner of minor and not so minor scams and crimes in the area. What I didn't know, but what became clear, was that a certain Mrs. Jones worked at the insurance company in the same office as Blowers, and that he was up to his old tricks again and Mr. Jones took exception to it. When I first heard the news onboard ship that night, that a body had been found in the park with a bullet wound in his head, then I assumed that the press had simply got it wrong again. When it became clear that they hadn't, then I was, to say the least, shocked. The court case was a sensation. Jones never denied shooting Blowers, and made it very clear exactly why the bastard deserved it. But the case was thrown into confusion when a medical expert claimed that Blowers was possibly already dead when Jones shot him, only to be disagreed with by another equally eminent gentleman of medical persuasion, who countered that such a claim couldn't be substantiated. Jones, for his part, understanding that he could hardly be found guilty of murdering a man who was already dead, came up with the plausible story that he'd gone looking for Blowers and followed him into the park. When he'd found him lying senseless in a pool of blood by the park bench, then in anger, he'd put a bullet into his brain anyway. He also mentioned the 'other' man he'd seen walking away from the scene in a hurry, to my surprise, describing him as a 'swarthy, foreign looking geezer, of about five foot six and walking with a limp'. Since I'm just over six foot tall with a fair, almost ginger colouring, and had no problems with my mobility, then his claims were certainly food for thought. Whether he'd made up the story about seeing someone, or it was simply his way of thanking me for doing his job for him by giving a false description, then I'd never know, but I sure was grateful. It certainly muddied the waters as far as the court case was concerned, and the press had a field day speculating who the mysterious 'other' man was. Reports of sightings of the mysterious 'other' man, as he became known came from all over the country, and set off a controversy about the wisdom of allowing so many immigrants to settle here. Meanwhile, Jones' charge was reduced from murder to manslaughter, and when this started to look dodgy as well, it seemed that the defence accepted the offer for him to plead guilty to aggravated assault and possession of an unauthorised weapon. He still got a nine-month sentence, but he could have been out in five if he behaved himself. Unfortunately for him, he didn't, but that is another story that had nothing to do with me. --------------------- So that left me not knowing whether I'd killed Blowers or not, and that was fine with me. I'd sort of kept my promise to myself that I'd kill the bugger one day without feeling that I'd become a murderer. My lovely Robyn was avenged and my hate had no target left, and so, almost casually, disappeared. As the counsellor had predicted, going to tell him of my forgiveness, had worked out perfectly, just not in the way he'd predicted. ------------ And me? Well I stayed on the ships for a few years, and even got my master's mate's certificate. I wouldn't claim that I had a girl in every port during those years, but I did have a small but select list of telephone numbers of young ladies who were normally very pleased to see me. Eventually my services were again sought back on shore, and by the time I retired, I ended up as assistant director of operations, which pleased my wife, no end. That's right, I found myself another special woman that I could give my love to, and with enough time for us to produce two lovely children. They became the centre of my universe, but even so, just occasionally, my mind would wander back to Robyn, and how things might have turned out so differently if her life hadn't been wasted so early. I couldn't help it, but couldn't deny that sometimes, just occasionally, in the privacy of my own mind, though I loved my new family, I still missed Robyn terribly, and deep down somewhere, always would. The end, but really, this time. All at Sea When it stopped stinging, I diddled myself with the brush while George serenaded me until I came – not earth-shatteringly, but I didn't know how much better it could be back then. I was devastated when I found out he was gay." Aud giggled to herself. "Didn't his hit Father Figure put a strain on your relationship before that?" The Devil made me say it. Aud gave me a stern look. "If you want to be raiding my laundry basket for your kicks tonight, Mister, just keep going." But she couldn't keep a straight face. It was just as well I'd put the razor down: Giggles and sharp edges don't go well together. * * * * * Rinsed, gently towelled and moisturized to soothe skin unfamiliar to razors, Aud was more than ready. My fingers were slick long after the moisturizer had been absorbed into her skin. "To test this properly, we should wait until after dinner and see how much you're gagging for it by then." I reminded Aud of the story we were supposedly testing, even as my fingers stroked her smooth, aroused lips. "Don't you dare!" She clung to me for support: her legs were trembling. "I need you now." Her mouth pressed against my neck and she squeezed her thighs around my hand, moaning softly. I let go of her pussy, silenced her objection with a kiss and lifted her off her feet, carrying her to her bedroom. She lay, legs akimbo, stroking her newly smooth mons while I stripped off with possibly unseemly haste. She gasped as I sunk balls deep in her pussy, my own pubes tickling her bare bits. "Slowly, Adam. Pretend I'm Patricia." So I made love to her slowly, caressing her breasts gently and nuzzling her neck when I wasn't jousting with her tongue. Her knees rose either side of me and her heels kicked occasionally at my buttocks as she squirmed under me. By my reckoning, Aud came three times – matching my personal best. The third time, grabbing my ponytail and pulling my head back, she practically screamed as her pussy seized around me. That was it for me: I grunted and drained my balls against her cervix. "Well?" I gasped, out of breath and lying heavily on top of her. "Did we pass the test?" "Mmm." Aud simply purred against my neck. We lay there a few minutes, until my shrinking cock dislodged itself and Aud urged me off her so she could breathe more easily. "Well?" I asked a second time, tweaking one of her erect nipples. "That was rubbish. Your cock is far too small and you know next to nothing about satisfying a woman. I mean, Adam, Really? I only had four orgasms and I bet I can still walk properly." She blessed me with a cheeky grin. "Four? I only counted three." I was pleased with myself. Four was a new personal best. "See? You obviously weren't paying much attention to my pleasure." She rolled on top of me and kissed me ferociously. "Seriously though, Adam, that was wonderful." "Four? Really?" "Really. Are you hungry? Because I'm famished." "Are you kidding? I'm the one who was doing all the work." "Why you…" Struggling to find a suitable pejorative, Aud settled for whacking me with a pillow. Then she got up (I noted with some pride that her legs were wobbly) and in the undignified fashion of a woman who doesn't want to drip semen on the carpet, cupped her hand under her crotch as she went to the bathroom. I got up too and wandered, dressed as Adam should be, through to the lounge and the balcony doors. How private was that balcony? I opened the doors carefully, stuck out my head and glanced left, right and up. Good! Nobody overlooked us. I went to the rail. The sea raced by a long way down and there was an island in the distance but nothing much to see. "Here." Aud joined me, dressed as Eve, and handed me a moist towel. "Since you do all the work." She stood back, folded her arms and waited for me to clean my sticky cock. "Aud… Darling… I was only teasing…" I put on my very best kicked puppy face but she didn't relent. Then I had an idea. I twisted the towel so it wrapped both my hands and held out my 'bandaged' mitts imploringly. "My hands don't work." Go on. Be Sabine again. "You are a bad man." She smiled and knelt down. I smiled too and moved closer. Aud took my limp and sticky cock into her mouth and diligently removed all trace of both her juices and mine. It took a while because the job kept getting bigger as she worked, like a government project, but finally she finished off with a quick polish from the damp towel, which felt great: cool on my skin. "There." She accepted my hand to help her back to her feet. "Thank you." I buzzed her. "Would you like to eat before I ravish your arse on the balcony?" I had decided which bit of one of my stories to try next. "When I said I was famished, it wasn't a euphemism for wanting a mouthful of dick. Yes, I want to eat. At least three courses, and a few drinks before I admit to getting some lubricating gel from the pharmacy this morning." She smirked then pressed her cheek to my chest. "Save my arse for desert." "Room service? Or will dinner for two in your suite come to the attention of your ex?" "The state of my bed in the morning will give the game away anyway. Don't you think?" * * * * * "Are your parents staying on board tomorrow?" Aud asked as we ate on the balcony. "Got to. Even if Dad could get ashore, he'd struggle with the coaches laid on for the tour. For them, it's next stop Naples, but they're having a good time. They've made some new friends." "So have you." "Only one." "Patricia… Sabine… Suzy…" Aud counted all the parts she'd played so far in our rigorous testing of my stories. "I stand corrected. Try the braised bean curd. It's marvellous. "So we can go ashore together tomorrow. Dikili has a decent beach." Aud looked pleased at the prospect. "Don't you want to see Pergamum?" I'd been looking forward to it. "You can go look at ruins if you want. I'll just wander around the old town with no knickers on and find somebody to flash." Aud swung one leg high and wide, graphically illustrating the point. "So? I surmise you've been reading about Honey B." I guessed. "Yes. And I'm going to spend tomorrow flashing somebody: either you or random strangers." "Pergamum's just a pile of second-rate ruins anyway. Very over rated, I heard." I back peddled furiously. "Sight seeing in the old town is probably much more interesting. Local colour, traditional architecture, random acts of indecency… Can I bring my camera?" "Can I trust you with pictures of me? I don't want to end up on some tacky website." "Strictly for personal abuse. Cross my heart." "Excuse me." She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood up. "I'm just going to get ready for desert." Her hand lingered on my shoulder as she went past. * * * * * Aud came out of the bathroom with a bottle of lubricant, a pack of condoms and the sash off one of the bathrobes. "Hands behind your back." She gestured with the sash. "Look." She said when I proved hesitant. "This is what we're testing. Is it feasible to perform a vigorous act of sodomy without your hands for balance?" So my hands got tied behind me. When Aud bent from the waist, supporting herself on the balcony rail, I learned that she was already lubed up. Just as I'd written, it was difficult but not impossible to get my cock in the right hole without using my hands, though Aud's fingers were helpful. Lined up at last, I eased my weight forward, sinking into her rectum. I don't get anal sex anywhere near enough to be blasé about it. I paused, wallowing in the tightness, the heat and the sheer sinfulness of it. Not that I believe in sin, but I was only too aware that we were in the only place on Earth that had ever spawned a culture that didn't frown on sodomy: And even the ancient Greeks would have disapproved of me doing it to a woman. I think maybe arses have become the new frontier: As pussy became a lot easier to get, Men, being competitive, had to have a new ultimate goal. The girl who puts out has been replaced at the top of our must-have list by the girl who'll take it up the bum. And I was up Aud's bum! I stopped thinking and started fucking. Having set up a tentative rhythm, building in pace and confidence, I decided it was easier than I'd expected. That complacency caught me out and I was dislodged. At the second attempt, I concentrated more on forceful, shorter strokes that made Aud gasp while her fingers flittering over her clitoris made her moan. She managed to time her orgasm to coincide satisfyingly with mine, which nearly pitched her over the rail and into the Aegean. We concluded that while the test had been passed, actually combining two contiguous sex acts from TLC, sex is better and easier with hands. Somewhere out at sea, some unsuspecting turtle was going to discover a new kind of jellyfish because my condom did go overboard. * * * * * "How many pictures of her do you have?" Aud was browsing through the small fraction of my porn collection that had been loaded onto my netbook while I was packing for this trip. "Over three thousand." The girl in question was called Antea. Actually, her innocent face and flawless figure were the inspiration behind one of my favourite characters too: Honey B. "That's… obsessive." Aud had been flipping through pics for half an hour because she wanted to see what sort of girls I really preferred. She'd nominated some that, in theory, she'd do too. "But she's gorgeous." "I didn't say she wasn't. I'm not sure about the dangly bits, but she is pretty." Aud was referring to Antea's very prominent inner lips. "I like the dangly bits. And those nipples!" My cock pulsed against Aud's thighs just at the thought of Antea's bits. "I do love those puffy nipples." "I can tell." Aud wiggled her bottom against my hard-on. "Ok. Put her on my to-do list. How many's that?" "Half a dozen." "That's enough for now. I think I've just doubled the amount of porn I've seen… ever." "It's a bit late for me to apologise for being a pervert." I shrugged, but I don't think she noticed. "Anyway, I've got a new obsession." "And don't I know it?" She wiggled her bottom against me again. "What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done?" I reached over her to lift the netbook off the bed. As I rolled onto my back to put it on the bedside table, Aud took the opportunity to roll over too, lying across me, her soft breasts squashed onto my chest. "Letting you stick your tongue in my arse." "Apart from that." "Bribing my way into the England locker room after a Five Nations match. I jumped into the bath with them all. I love rugby." "A gang bang?" "Hardly! Will Carling washed my tits for me though and I got groped a fair bit." "Will Carling? That was some time back." "It was. What's yours?" "Sarah Murphy. She lived with me for nearly a year, but she was dating a guy she worked with. She used to spend weekends at his place but Sunday night through Thursday night, with me. I was seeing a girl from Chesterfield at the time so I had someone else to do at weekends too. The kinky bit was that she used to phone her boyfriend every night at bedtime and have a romantic chat with him while I tried to distract her. She'd end up having to pretend to be masturbating for him. He loved hearing her get herself off and never once twigged that it was my tongue, not her fingers, causing the heavy breathing. Sometimes, I called Rachael in Chesterfield and Sarah returned the favour. There really is nothing like talking to the girl who'll be sucking your dick tomorrow night, while another girl is sucking it right now." "So you don't believe in fidelity?" "If I'd promised to be faithful, I would be. Besides, Sarah was just a fuck-buddy. The only thing she wouldn't let me do was butt-fuck her. She said something had to be just for her boyfriend." "Mean bitch." Aud said with a touch of irony in her voice. "My words exactly. I mean… it's one thing to be sleeping with a girl who just won't. But when you're sleeping with a girl who definitely will, but not with you – That's harsh." "It's a good thing you're sleeping with a girl who definitely will, isn't it?" Aud moved against me, letting my trapped cock spring up between her thighs as she stretched to reach the lubricant and the remains of our packet of condoms. * * * * * I was having dinner with my parents after a diverting day in Dikili with a camera and a neophyte flasher. I'd just been waxing lyrical about the Pergamum Acropolis when one of their new chums remarked that she hadn't seen me on the tour coach. "I took a taxi." I improvised my excuse. "Adam doesn't need a tour guide. He has a degree in ancient history." My mother is very proud of my academic achievements, even if she can't remember what they actually are. Usually that pride takes the form of berating me for wasting my education but this time I was glad to see someone else on the receiving end. "Classical literature, actually." I looked Mrs Nosey-Parker right in the eyes. "But one can't study the classics without the history that provides their context. Don't you agree?" I learnt snobbery from an expert – my mum – and can patronise with the best of them. "What?… Oh…yes…of course…" She blinked first. "Anyway, I'm really looking forward to Naples. The-" "And the young lady on your arm in Diliki?" Mrs Nosey-Parker rallied. "Dikili, not Diliki. And Mrs Henderson is the Captain's wife. After Mytilene, she asked if I'd care to tour Pergamum with her. We have similar literary interests you see?" I turned back to my mother, hoping the matter was closed. "Our captain's wife?" Mum asked. "Why didn't you say anything?" "Because Mum, as our self-appointed chaperone has just demonstrated, there are several hundred nosey people on this ship. I did not want Mrs Henderson to be the subject of their salacious gossip." I could feel the metaphorical knife between my shoulder blades as Mrs Nosey-Parker went absolutely silent. "I'll see you tomorrow. We can plan our agenda for Naples." I stood, pecking Mum on the cheek. "Goodnight Dad." "Goodnight Son." As I left the dining room, I knew there would be repercussions. Mum would be upset that I'd offended her new friend and would be urging me to make peace with the nosey old biddy: which wasn't going to happen. Then I'd be interrogated about 'this Mrs Henderson' and admonished for my customary secrecy about my friends, none of whom I ever introduced to my parents. I would refrain from saying "Look Mum, Aud and I are hanging out together because we both like the feeling of my cock up her arse." Instead, I'd make up some plausible tale of a shared interest in literature, a meeting of minds … et cetera ad nauseum. Mum would eventually drop the subject and Dad and I would get to plan our tour of Naples while she sulked. I went back to my cabin - I can't think of it as a stateroom after seeing Aud's suite - to review today's snapshots and wait for Aud, who was dining with her ex-husband tonight. * * * * * "I've been a bad girl today." Aud said as I opened the door. "And?" I stood aside and she slipped into my cabin, brushing against me in a pleasingly unnecessary fashion. "And I deserve to be spanked." She dropped her eyes demurely. We'd discussed this as we wandered the old town that afternoon. Aud wanted to test the spanking scene from 'In Camera'. For verisimilitude, she actually was naughty: hitching her dress to squat and pee at the top of a steep cobbled street. The photos, with her urine running like a stream down thirty feet of street, were right up there among my favourites for the day. But it was naughty and she did deserve a spanking. "Get undressed then." I tried to sound authoritarian. It turns out that sitting on a bed doesn't work for spankings. There's no room for the victim's legs. However, the corner of a bed works perfectly, offering enough support for the weight of both of us and plenty of room for Aud's legs and arms. I stand corrected. My hand got numb pretty quickly and my arm was aching long before Aud asked me to stop. Her bottom was pretty uniformly red and felt scorchingly hot. Her tears were real looking and when she curled up on the bed and I entered her from behind, she pressed her face into a pillow to stifle the moan that escaped her lips. I was like rock. I'd never expected to find it so stimulating. I knew it was uncomfortable for her but I just didn't care enough to stop. Her pussy was throbbing around my cock and that was all that mattered. Soon enough, Aud started to move to meet me as I thrust my hips, ignoring the stinging of her cheeks. She came first and, when she came, she had to bury her face in the pillow again: This time to stifle a scream of utter ecstasy. It was like fucking an epileptic. She shook so hard I had to grip her hips to stay in there. And it went on and on. I came as I thought her orgasm was subsiding but, by the time I'd emptied my balls into her, she was still trembling and sighing and pulsing around my cock. It was a revelation. "I'm not even going to ask." I flopped back on the bed, sticky cock wilting across the top of my thigh. "That was a pass." "That was a distinction." Aud turned over, wincing as her bottom touched the sheets, and kissed me with more tenderness than I'd yet experienced from her. It felt different. This wasn't a lust fuelled kiss. "Am I forgiven for being naughty?" "You're forgiven." A perky nipple distracted me. It's easily done. "My bottom hurts. Kiss it better." She put on a little girl voice. "Let me catch my breath first." I knew where this was leading, mainly because every opportunity to get my tongue near her pussy had so far included a little rimming. I had waited years for a girl who was up for it and had resolved to make the most of this brief window of opportunity. So I kissed her bottom better: every red tinged inch of it, starting at the small of her back and not stopping until her swollen clit was under my tongue. I roamed freely from anus to clitoris, taking time to dip into her oozing hole for a little taste of 'Daddy's special sauce' as Helen had put it. My mouth was glued over her vulva when she came, thrashing at her own clit and ejecting the last of my ejaculation back into my mouth. Not the best bit from my point of view, but the next load was going down her throat very shortly, so I didn't mind. * * * * * All the redness had gone by morning. We had a day at sea so I suggested the gym and Aud went back to her suite to change. A workout, a sauna, a massage and a long soak in the Jacuzzi passed the morning perfectly. Almost perfectly: I pulled us up short when we went for coffee afterwards. "That's the woman who spotted us yesterday." I pointed out Mrs Nosey-Parker from a safe distance. I'd told Aud all about being seen together in Dikili. "And the two with her are my Mum and Dad." "Good." Aud said, tugging my arm towards the door. "Good?" "Yes. You can introduce me to your parents and I can bolster your alibi. Come on." She tugged harder and I moved reluctantly forward, though I had the presence of mind to hastily disengage my arm from hers. We went straight to their corner of the coffee shop. "Dad, Mum." I leant between them, pecking each available cheek in turn. "Hello son." Dad had a lapful of guidebooks for Naples. "Adam! We didn't expect to see you until after lunch. You remember Mrs-" my mother launched into a monologue but I cut her off. "Mum. This is Mrs Audrey Henderson. Is there room for two more?" There wasn't. I could see there was only one seat available.