Chapter 12

We docked in the Canary Islands and when we steamed out again into the Atlantic, I had another two married women on the hook. It needed ingenuity to handle three pussies without any of them suspecting the others existed. My prick was delighted at its regular ration of pussy. But only because I used my head and conserved my stamina. Gloria was easy. She was so happy being fingered she didn't even notice I tossed her off instead of screwing her. Vera was easy too. Her husband was a slosh and she'd given up all hope of sucking his prick to erection. Her standby was a vibrator. When she wasn't on deck she was sure to be splayed out on her cabin bunk whisking a vibrator up and down inside her crotch. But she preferred a man to wield it. She'd developed a strong affection for her vibrator and wasn't much interested in screwing. But she did like a prick thrust up her ass-hole while her pussy was vibrated.

Paula was a tougher proposition. She liked being fingered, being licked and being screwed. Most of all she liked being licked. She was a champion cock-sucker herself. I had to suck her off often and quickly. Otherwise, she'd have sucked me to a standstill before she was satiated.

The business side was tricky but promising. Gloria persuaded me to accept a loan of two hundred pounds. To preserve my pride, Gloria charged interest and the loan was to be repaid within three years. She'd drafted out a contract which I'd sign. The snag was, she couldn't give me the money until we reached port when she'd have it wired to her from her London bank. She sincerely wanted to help me. But when the voyage was over and her pussy less itchy, she might revise her plans.

Vera hadn't money of her own. But whenever her sloshed husband drew cash from the Purser, she got into his wallet. She was always giving me ten- and twenty-dollar bills. "The drunken bastard never knows what he does with his money. I'd rather you have it, than see it wasted on drink."

Paula insisted on lending me five hundred dollars ... without strings. She'd written a check and I had it in my pocket. But I couldn't cash it until we docked. There was no way of knowing if it would bounce, or if she would stop it. It was a gamble I was willing to take. Licking into her juicy pussy while she sucked my knob was so delightful I'd have no scars if the check did bounce.

With three prick-hungry women after me I had to take care not to get used up. If I'd been a passenger, I'd have tumbled all three with carefree joy. But I was getting money from them and it made me uncomfortable. But I avoided feeling like a male prostitute until I tangled with Amanda. She was a rich pussy, a widow. I'd had a number after me, but I'd taken Dave's advice and ignored their ploys. But Amanda was different. I'd served her a number of times and she'd treated me like any other waiter. She was nudging fifty, but had a good, firm figure. She was always beautifully dressed and dripped with jewelry. She was gracious, aloof and always mixed with the best people aboard. I wasn't even aware she'd noticed me until she asked, after I'd served a drink: "When are you off duty, Steward?"

"In twenty minutes, Ma'am."

She looked at me steadily. Her eyes were a light blue. "Come down to my cabin when you're free. Number seventy-two."

I was startled. I didn't know what she wanted. "I beg your pardon, Madam?"

Her eyes didn't leave my face. "We're on board ship, Steward. I think we both know what I'm talking about. Don't we?"

I gulped. "Yes, Ma'am?"

She dismissed me coolly. "That's all, Steward."

I couldn't run to Dave for advice. I had to see it through myself. She left the deck ten minutes before I went off duty. I went down to her cabin as soon as I could. She opened the door, then closed it behind me. She was wearing a very respectable full-length dressing gown. But she'd let down her hair. It tumbled loosely over her shoulders. She pointed to the table. Her voice was toneless. "Look at what's on the table, Steward?"

There were three ten-dollar bills neatly laid out. I stared at them. I looked up at her. Her blue eyes were bold. "You can pick them up and put them in your pocket, Steward. Or you can walk out."

I took a deep breath. It was money! I scooped it up and tucked it away in my pocket. She nodded approvingly and her fingers went to the buttons of her dressing gown. She opened it up, shrugged it off her shoulders and threw it on one side. She wasn't wearing a stitch underneath it. She went to the foot of the bed, sat on the edge of it and then lay right back. She opened her thighs wide. She said softly. "Kiss me, Steward."

She wasn't bad. She had a firm, compact body. Her breasts were small and well-formed with only a slight suggestion of sag. Her belly was soft and flat, and the skin on the inside of her thighs was creamy. She'd scissor-trimmed her pubic hairs to a close-cropped triangle, and her outer love-lips were ripe and- milky. The crevice between them was fascinatingly dark and mysterious.

I threw off my jacket and pants and kneeled down between her legs. She sighed with satisfaction as I browsed my lips over her inner thighs. "That's the way, Steward. Kiss me. No fingers."

I guessed correctly she was a single-climax woman, contented by one big orgasm. I could tell that from her pussy. She hadn't been playing with herself in anticipation of my visit. Her crevice was closed up tight like a clam. She wanted me to lick it open. Her big, milky outer love-lips made it a beautiful pussy. There were hollows in her groin either side of her pussy and I teased them with the tip of my tongue, relishing the peppery tang of a woman's perspiration. She moaned. I didn't rush it. I licked around her outer love-lips and coated them thoroughly with saliva before I teased my tongue into the crevice between them. Only then did I get the first taste of pussy. It wasn't strong because her inner love-lips were stuck together. But they swelled up as I licked deeper into her crevice and soon they flowered from between her outer love-lips like fleshy petals. I licked up one side of them, and down the other. Quivers ran through her, and her flat abdomen gave little jerks. Soon the fused together petals were standing up starkly, flushed red and glistening with my saliva. She was well away in dreamland by then. Her head was slack and her hands grasped her breasts so tightly the flesh swelled out between her fingers.

I paused for a tantalizing moment. All of her became rigid with suspense. Then I ran the tip of my tongue along between the edges of the pink petals, probed it into the crevice and peeled the petals apart. The taste and smell of pussy was much stronger then and excited me. My tongue became eager and she gave excited, little moans as it probed deeper, licking up and down the petals to separate them completely. The moment she was opened up the smell of pussy was overpowering. The juice that had been sealed up inside, flowed freely. My greedy tongue lapped avidly, gathering up the drool, and her loins began a pistoning movement that soared her high.

I had her. Her pussy was the core of all her emotional tension and I could have made her climax within seconds. But I had thirty dollars in my pocket and wanted to give her maximum pleasure. I tongue-teased her skillfully, licked her gently, stimulated her enormously but avoided sending her. She had a very musky woman taste as though her pussy essence had been distilled especially to intoxicate me with its strong aroma. I licked up and down between her petals until they were hanging open and quivering. Then I licked them back flat against her milky outer pussy-lips. Then she was a wide-open crevice, smoking hot and quivering. Her clit-bud stood up like a pink pea and her vagina dimple trembled, and glistened with the juice that dribbled from it. I could lick deeper into her pussy now. But I still didn't send her. I teased my tongue around inside her vagina vestibule and she panted so desperately she all but snorted. I licked her up until she quivered, writhed and throbbed. I circled the tip of my tongue slowly closer to her vagina dimple, probed into it, relished its bubbling love-drool and then thrust my tongue inside as deep as I could get it.

She couldn't take any more. She went. The orgasm welled up inside her, her thighs strained apart and I swirled my tongue up to her clit-bud and clamped my mouth down over it. I sucked her clit-bud into my mouth, laved it with my tongue, swirled saliva around it and clung to her grimly while she soared high.

What an orgasm! Her thighs clamped my mouth deep into her crotch while her heels rammed down upon my back as though she was trying to drive all of me up inside her. Her loins reared up off the bed with every spasm. My face was buried so deep in her pussy I was an integral part of her climax. Love-juice bubbled, gurgled and squirted around my cheeks as her urgent thighs ground my mouth ever deeper into her mush. She enjoyed a dozen, long convulsive spasms before she collapsed, her legs falling apart just in time for me to come up for air. I filled my lungs and plunged down into the hot, glorious mush again, as happy as an alcoholic in a wine cask. I floated in pussy-juice, swallowing and inhaling it until I was drunk and cunt-happy. I burrowed deep, lapping happily. Then her hands came down upon my head. She pushed me away. As I suspected, she was a one-orgasm woman.

She looked out for the count. There was a bottle of gin on a shelf. I poured myself a drink. Presently she brushed her moist hair off her forehead and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She sat with her thighs wide apart and her pussy gaping open. "There's a hand-towel in the shower stall," she told me. I got it and she wiped herself dry.

"Let me do it," I offered.

"No. I'm hypersensitive now!"

"Shall I kiss you again?"

"I couldn't bear it again, today." I knew that by the way she handled the towel. She held each love-lip very tenderly between finger and thumb, and dried it very delicately. Finally, she pressed the inner love-lips together, then ran her finger and thumb up and down them, sealing them shut, almost as though sealing an envelope. She threw away the hand-towel, stood up and stretched herself. She had a trim body but her nipples had shrunken shyly. "Now you," she said. "Lie on the bed."

I was on a good thing. Thirty dollars for sucking her off and I could make her climax in minutes if I wanted. If I could earn it without wear and tear on my prick, so much the better. "If I've made you happy, I'm happy too," I told her.

She pointed. "Lie down."

I stretched out on the bed. "You don't have to bother with me," I said.

"Lie back!"

I lay back. "It's not necessary," I said. She wasn't listening. She opened a drawer and took out a pot of Vaseline. She sat beside me, opened the pot, scooped out a large dollop of Vaseline and greased her hands.

"Honest," I said. "You mustn't bother about me."

When she'd filmed her hands she sat where she could get at me easily. My prick stood up like a truncheon. She held it delicately, smeared Vaseline around the shaft, over my balls and scrotum and right back to my Brownie.

"Honestly," I protested. "You don't have to toss me off so I won't feel frustrated."

"It's beautifully hot," she crooned. "Young and virile. What do you think I'm paying you for? I want it throbbing, expanding and leaping in my hands. I want to possess it, provoke it and tame it."

I realized then that being tossed-off was part of the deal. She'd got me beautifully greased up. She set to work. She'd handled hundreds of pricks. She was expert. She did everything except make my prick jump through hoops. She made it twitch, leap, throb, jerk and expand to a size I wouldn't have believed possible if I hadn't seen it. She brought me to the brink of climax and held me there until she was ready. Then, while she stroked orgiastic spasms out of me, she watched the pulses of spunk jetting up through my shaft fascinatedly. My seed splattered over her dangling tits and she milked my knob until there was no more juice to flow. I sprawled back weakly, my prick shriveled. She lay it upon my belly and looked down with satisfaction at the glistening dollops of come clinging to her breasts and trickling down over the nipples. "You come beautifully," she told me. "It tones up the flesh and gives breasts youth and vitality."

I was so tired I was content to relax and watch her massage my spunk into her breasts until her fingers were dry and her creamy skin pinkly flushed. She cupped one tit, lifted it and sniffed at it delicately. Her slow, satisfied smile betrayed her thoughts. With her tits snugly encased in a bra, she could walk around inhaling the body-heated aroma of male spunk.

She stood up, tossed me a hand-towel and put on her dressing gown. "That's all, Steward," she said briskly. She sat at her dressing table, making up her face while I wiped my prick clean of Vaseline and got dressed. I cleared my throat. She looked at me through the mirror. "The same tomorrow, Steward?"

"If you wish, Madam."

"The same every day," she confirmed, and turned her attention to her eyebrows.

I was jubilant when I closed her cabin door. Now I had a regular, well-paid job. But I wished she didn't toss me off so expertly. I was already late for Paula and if she cock-sucked me too enthusiastically, I might not be able to get it up at all for Gloria.