Chapter 3
Cindy dozes off, truly relaxed for the first time since her parents hit her with the "good news" about the trip.
So that the soft ringing of the telephone on the night stand beside her bed awakens her.
She opens her eyes, not comprehending what that steady ringing could possibly be, here in a ship's cabin.
But the light on the telephone housing blinking in time to the ring alerts her.
Incredulous, she sits up, looking at it.
Then, she reaches over and picks it up.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Cindy."
"This is Brim."
"Did I awaken you?"
"No, I was, I mean yes, I guess you did."
"Come join me on the deck for breakfast, won't you?"
"Oh uh, certainly ... Brim. I'll be there very shortly."
And she is.
There is Brim, seated on deck before a massively spread table, spread buffet style, and containing everything one could possibly want for breakfast, in warmers or iced trays, as appropriate.
It reminds Cindy of similar tables at a resort hotel in the Poconos at which she stayed with her parents when she was little.
Roughing it, they jokingly termed it, meaning that the guests were required to serve themselves.
"Ah, there you are!" Brim says, rising. "I trust that you found the, ah, the amenities ... satisfactory?"
She looks at him oddly.
What a strange way to refer to her accommodations— if that is in fact all he is referencing.
"Uh, yes, they were, are ... excellent."
"Good, good!
"Well, you just help yourself here. As you can see, there's plenty."
"Indeed there is! Cooking for a crowd, we'd call it at home."
"Expecting others?"
"Oh, the ship's officers will breakfast later, after we're through."
"Where is Samantha?"
"She's still in our cabin, getting a massage."
"One of the crew is quite adept at it."
"But then, we do have a very talented ship's roster."
And he looks at her meaningfully. And Cindy pauses as she dishes up eggs and sausages for herself.
And then continues.
If he knows, he knows.
So what?
She's an adult and can do as she pleases.
Not that her parents would understand.
What do they know of her drives, her needs?
How could she ever explain to them the world as it is for her on this beautiful morning and the world as it would have been, viewed through the shit-colored glasses of her unquenched lust, her unslaked desire?
How could she tell them that what she had earlier with Bill is as necessary to her as food and water, rest and sunlight?
They would call her perverted and blame themselves for having brought her up badly.
They would castigate themselves first and then her.
And, unable to live with the guilt, would no doubt banish her to some far-flung outpost of higher learning, never to darken their doorway again.
Or something equally melodramatic.
So that this could be, in that sense, trouble for her.
Except.
This is Brim's ship and he is absolutely responsible for anything and everything that happens on board.
So that, even if he knows, he is hardly in a position to blow the whistle on her.
That would be stupid.
And, while she doesn't know Brim very well, doesn't really know him at all, her impression is that he is anything but stupid.
"What would you be doing this morning, Cindy, if not for this trip?"
He makes it a casual question, but his gaze is intense.
"I would be with my friends."
Letting him know that he has isolated her, taking her away from people her own age and shared background.
"I would be going to the beach with them, I suppose."
Telling him that he has interfered with her casual good times, her social schedule.
"And, uh, having a good time."
Being blunt, telling him that she is not having one here.
"It's more than that though, isn't it, my dear?" he asks.
"What do you mean, Brim?"
And Brim stops eating, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.
"Do you really think I've forgotten how it was at your age?" he asks. "Or let me be even more specific."
"Do you think that I don't know about that magic time between high school and college, that time of carefree, thoughtless, even mindless casualness?"
"Because if you do, let me assure you, you're wrong.
"I recall only too well those balmy days during the only time in my early life that didn't count."
"That didn't ... count?"
"Exactly, my dear."
"The time that doesn't matter, that you don't have to account for, not to yourself, not to anyone else."
"The time when you are free to do exactly as you please, for perhaps the last, the only time in your life."
Cindy looks at him, amazed.
"So then, if you know all that, then why did you, uh—"
And she gestures all around her.
"To show you a better way, my dear."
"I don't understand, Brim."
"How is this a better way?
"And why should you care, one way or the other?"
"I've—cared, as you put it, ever since the first time I saw you at some ridiculous and boring affair or other."
"Charity dinner," Cindy says, abstractly, staring at him.
"But—"
"Now, now, my dear," Brim says, patting the back of her hand reassuringly, "you mustn't think me a person of some sinister design upon you.
"But."
"I am an excellent judge of character, Cindy.
"It is one of the secrets of my success.
"Or was, back in my early days, when I was first starting out, before the amassing of wealth became impersonal, automatic, practically self-perpetuating."
"And uh, what did you see in my ... character that caused—this?"
"One who deserved ... better."
"Better?"
"Better than that trite, that mundane, that limited good time among your chronies before they go their separate ways.
"Some of them will come to bad ends, some will disappear in mediocrity, most will have to admit that their lives have been failures.
"So that this is both a sad and a magic time for them, Cindy.
"This is the high point in their lives, this time of nothingness."
"It's all downhill from here for them, and they don't even realize it."
"Because that realization will come later, much later for them."
"For now, they are free to use society and their parents' resources as a trampoline for their own amusement, ignoring for the moment the grim world burning down around them, beyond the pale of this amusement park of a few months."
"What's that got to do with—"
"Cindy, you deserve better."
"So do many of your friends."
"Unfortunately, I can do nothing for them."
"But for you, I offer a better time between, a truly magic time, a time that absolutely does not count."
"I have removed you from the context of the mundane, the ordinary."
"I have rescued you, whisking you away to a separate world, here to enjoy to the fullest the magic time, the time between, the time that doesn't count."
"And do what, Brim?" she asks, allowing some of her anger, her resentment to surface in her look, her tone.
"I'd say that this morning wasn't a bad start, Cindy," he replies drily, looking at her, eye to eye, as he resumes eating.
"You, you ... were spying on me?"
"Let us say I had to confirm my suspicions concerning you."
"I had to know, Cindy, if what I thought I saw at our initial encounter was in fact there."
"Then Bill was just a—"
"Oh, please, Cindy!
"Bill is one of my men, doing his job."
"Look around at my crew, Cindy."
"Do you see one among them you'd turn down?"
"Do you think they were picked by accident?"
"Cindy, if there is one thing on which I pride myself, it is being an impeccable host."
"You are not my first guest, nor will you be my last."
"That is the other message for you, Cindy."
"This ship can be, is many things."
"With its elaborate communications system, it is my office away from the office."
"With its guest rooms, staff and facilities, it is a floating resort and palace."
"But it is more than that."
"It is that same time out, that time out of time, that time that doesn't count, that world unto itself of which your intended summer is but the palest of shadows."
"But Bill was a plant?"
"Not at all, my dear, except in a general, preplanned way, in which I try to see to it that my personnel are fully capable of satisfying my guests' every possible whim."
"What happened between you and him was entirely spontaneous, within the context of this ship, I can assure you."
"And observed," Cindy adds.
"Yes, but only in order to assure myself that I had read the indicators in you correctly."
"But why?"
"Oh, come now, Cindy, I should think that would be more than obvious, to one of your obvious intelligence."
"So then, I'm to work my way over to the Med and back, is that it?"
"Nothing could be farther from the truth, Cindy, and I think you also know that."
"All I ask for is a fair chance."
"If you do not enjoy me, why, we need never be together again."
"And I am not a man who is hurting for, for ... what you have to offer."
"That much should also be obvious to you."
"Nor will I insist that we get together more often than is your desire."
"And in fact, I will even go out of my way to see to it that you have what is indeed a magic time, using the ship's full facilities."
"You see, I have sufficient confidence in myself that I fear no competition."
"We are two of a kind, you and I, Cindy, whether or not you can recognize that fact."
"And certainly, considering the evident disparity of our persons, I can see where that might be difficult to do."
"But believe me, Cindy, underneath, I know it, the hunger, the urge."
Cindy says nothing, but continues to eat.
Brim is smart.
Too smart, maybe.
She is being manipulated.
But still, to what end, if not that of the satisfaction of a hunger which she herself understands only too well?
And, as for his targeting her, well, why not?
Why not go with the best, if you can afford to do whatever is necessary to obtain it?
And, wanting her, how else could he have possibly managed to get at her?
He is not, after all, some twenty year old hunk on the prowl, able to whisper to her at a cocktail party, say, to meet him at such and such a time and place.
Nor is she the kind who would ever consider playing for pay.
So then, what is left to him, if not exactly what he has done?
And if his appetite, his drive is truly as strong, as compelling as her own, then definitely this was the way to go—from his point of view.
As for herself, well, it might prove interesting.
They say variety is the spice of life, she tells herself, and thus far, she has limited herself to her contemporaries.
And in fact, Bill is the oldest guy who ever laid her.
And obviously, Brim thinks he has something to offer in the physical sense, or he would not be pursuing this course of action.
It would be stupid and ridiculous to go to all this trouble and then not be able to do something in the way of performance.
So that now, she is curious and intrigued.
"Then I take it that you would like to, uh, do the deed," she says, adding, "as soon as possible."
Because she has no wish to appear stupid in front of him by saying the obvious, hence must add this last as qualifier.
"That's usually the way appetites such as ours work, isn't it?" he replies. "Why put off until five minutes from now what you can do this very instant, right?"
"Ordinarily.
"It's just that I thought, perhaps, a certain time of day might be better for you."
He chuckles.
"My dear Cindy, I am not some ancient lecher whose candle of lust flickers intermittently."
"You will find in me—never mind."
"Actions speak louder than words, so let us get on with it."
"We'll use one of the spare cabins."
"When you've finished eating, of course."
"Done," she says at once.
"So soon?"
"There are appetites and then there are appetites," she replies, "some more urgent than others."
And he laughs, offering her his arm.
Brim has a deep sun tan, interrupted in the middle by the outline of the briefest of bikinis in front, the g-string lines in the rear, around the waist and up the center barely discernible.
He is a large man, his skin firm on his slightly overweight body.
But he has a very large cock, its flaccid state at the moment serving only to emphasize its hugeness as it hangs, long and thick and heavy, the massive head with its thick, flared flange at the rear staring at the carpeting.
He is what she supposes would be termed a fine figure of a man, heroically proportioned if not particularly well developed.
She looks him up and down appreciatively.
He has what it takes, she thinks. Now let's see if he knows how to use it.
He begins with his tongue.
And that, he certainly uses to advantage.
As he brings her from curiosity, from the faint tingle of anticipation, to instant arousal.
Because, if his equipment is truly heavy, his tongue proves no less so.
Large, long and thick it is.
And Brim uses it energetically, avidly, expertly.
As he tongue fucks her, the wriggling appendage seeming to have a life of its own, jamming in and out of her, stimulating her joy buzzer each way, sending thrill after thrill of sexual electricity surging through her body, from the center of attention to her farthest extremities.
And only when he has her pussy hot and drooling with her clear juices does he relent, sliding up, up, up her body, between her raised and spread legs.
Until he reaches her breasts, which he cups in both hands, feeding himself first one, then the other, alternating, back and forth, bringing her nipples to erect, rubbery peaks.
And now, he is sucking and sucking her breasts, as though he is a starving infant.
And his cock comes up to full erection, rugged and enormous.
She has only the briefest glimpse of it as, twisting to one side, supporting himself on one hand, with the other, he guides the monster toward its target.
And shafts in, in, into the depths of her hot, juicy pussy.
Stretching and filling it, he is.
And he does not weigh her down with his bulk, either, supporting himself on his elbows and knees, leaving only enough of himself bearing down on her to rub lasciviously against her as he moves.
As move he does.
So that the piston action of his huge prong is smooth, strong and steady.
In and out, in and out he goes, the clinging cylinder of her cunt lubricated with saliva and pussy juice.
So that the action is even and unhindered.
So that there is only the feeling of sexual pleasure, intimate and tingling, as his mighty shaft activates a million points of light within her.
And she does the same for him, activating the entire surface of his prodigious prod, from battering ram head to big balls banging against her buttocks at the base.
As he fucks her, on and on.
And yes, he is good at this, very good.
Good at using the heavy equipment with which nature has so generously endowed him.
So that yes, he is giving her what she wants, what she needs.
He is indeed satisfying her, filling her fulfilling her.
He is bringing her right along, up, up, up the rainbow.
Higher and higher he is boosting her.
As she transcends level after level of her ever-mounting arousal.
So that now, she can relax.
Her mind has done its work.
It has made all the correct decisions, has brought her here, has surrendered her body to him.
So that now, it is all right to go ahead and surrender her mind to her body.
Because the mind, the seat of her appetites, the recognizer of her needs, has no further active role to play at this point.
Rather, its function has become that of mere spectator.
Because the body alone is capable of generating and receiving those sensations which she craves with the innermost depths, with the essence of her very being.
Yes, the body alone can speak the language of sexual arousal, of stimulation, of the complex of sensations which is the erotic communication, the language of cock and cunt, of body to body, of that most intimate of contacts.
And hers does it so very well indeed.
As does his.
So that now, they are rising together toward sexual paradise.
His face is red and so is hers.
His body's flush is slowly spreading, as is hers, with the engorged blood of their heightened passion.
His breathing is labored, hers likewise.
But they are not aware of expending any energy, of exerting any effort at all.
Rather, they are on automatic now, their movements reflexive, instinctive, primordial, those of the ancient beast within them.
Because surely this urge of theirs, this all encompassing, overwhelming lust is that very drive which began the chain of procreation itself, at the dawn of life.
So powerful, so urgent, so compelling is the connection between them, is the grinding and writhing of their bodies that nothing could separate them now, one from the other.
Because this is a fused unity here.
This is that which no man can put asunder.
This is the closed circuit functioning of a hermetically sealed entity, an intimately, furiously, perfectly operating machine of living flesh.
As Brim shows her a part of what he has to offer.
A part.
And not even the tip of the iceberg.
But of course all such thoughts, all such reflections and considerations are deferred until later.
As, right now, they feel the pressure of the pleasure beyond pleasure building and building within themselves.
And they are not stopping to wait for it.
Rather, they continue to grasp for that next level of erotic sensation, that next plateau of shared arousal.
And the next and the next.
Until the pressure of the pleasure within them becomes too much for their bodies to contain and they blow their safety valves.
And they are coming and coming together.
As, once again, the proof of the truth of the ultimate sensation drives itself home inside Cindy, using those arguments of raw sexual pleasure which obviate all philosophy, all discussion.
As the convulsions of her vagina suck and milk and actively caress his discharging cannon again and again, extracting from him jet after jet of jism, gushing uncontrollably into her innermost depths.
As orgasm after orgasm seizes her, transporting her, jerking her this way and that.
As he pounds into her all the way, even through his climax.
Until, at last, they are both finished, the last spasm passing softly through the two of them.
And Brim raises an eyebrow by way of inquiry, looking down at her.
"You were terrific!" she says, enthusiastically.
"And so, my dear, were you."
"Shall we have ourselves a shower?"
And the two of them crowd into the shower stall of the cabin, filling the narrow space with their bodies, which slide and slip deliciously against each other as they clean themselves up.
And Cindy cannot take her eyes off of Brim's heavy equipment, slowly detumescing from its recent ultimate arousal.
He is huge! she thinks.
And she looks forward to doing more with the marvelous tool she sees before her.
So that now, as they dry off and she sees his beef swinging heavily from side to side, she says, "I take it that I can look forward to many happy returns?"
"Indeed you may, my dear," he replies, "and much else besides.
"You have opened the gates to your own private sexual paradise, if Samantha and I have anything to say about it."
"Samantha?"
"Oh dear," he smiles, "I seem to have let the cat out of the bag."
"No matter, though. You would have found out soon enough."