Chapter 8

"Well, my dear," Samantha says, "what can I say except—bravo!"

And Samantha applauds, the sound of a single pair of hands clapping slowly resembling rifle shots, beneath the awning under which Cindy has joined them for lunch.

As Brim looks at Samantha disapprovingly.

Such sarcasm and condescension ill become her, he thinks.

And surely it will not be lost on so intelligent a person as Cindy.

Who very obviously was not doing what she did as a performance, as one eager to please, for mere approval of her hosts.

And yet, Cindy sees very well the purpose behind Samantha's comment and actions.

They are a message.

Do not, for whatever reason, no matter how tempted you may be, try to ingratiate yourself with us by putting on a show.

A word to the wise.

Message received and understood.

Performances will be perceived as shows, even when not intended as such.

And Samantha certainly knows that Cindy wasn't playing at cute tricks this morning.

For one thing, she had asked her the previous day how she felt about sex with more than one person and so knows Cindy's true feelings concerning that.

For another, this was not something that Cindy planned, but rather an activity planned by Brim and Samantha for her, her—what?

Her delight and satisfaction, or theirs?

Because, face it, Cindy tells herself, the whole time, they were watching and you knew that they were, so what was it, if not a performance, at least in that sense?

And in retrospect, it is obvious to Cindy that she did not rule that world, not even when she was climaxing.

Rather, she was in roughly the same status as her three sailor studs.

The Steeles used her to amuse, to entertain themselves.

Her and the three sailors.

But they, at least, were, are on the payroll.

Whereas she is merely a guest.

And suddenly, the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for her.

And now, she knows exactly what she must do in order to assure herself a berth on this vessel next year, come hell or high water.

But first things first.

So—

"I take it, Samantha, that you have not yet availed yourself of the same, ah, shall we say ... facilities?" Cindy asks.

"Not uh, not to that extent, no, my dear."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because, if you haven't, I really would recommend it highly."

"I shall take it under advisement," Samantha replies, "and thank you for your interest and concern."

"Oh, not at all."

"It's merely that, as a spectator sport, it leaves much to be desired."

"A ... sport? Funny, I have never thought of sex that way."

"Well, there you are then, you see?"

"When you, uh, take it under advisement, consider it from that angle."

"Viewed as a sport, it becomes an excellent workout."

"You know, you're right?"

"Look at all that it brings into play!"

"How terribly insightful of the child, don't you think, Brim?"

"Terribly."

Adding, to himself, Touch, my dear Cindy.

Because, while not contradicting her hostess, Cindy has managed to very deftly turn the contention that this was a performance into a perfectly honorable, perfectly acceptable kind of performance, that of the athlete rather than the actress.

Because the athlete performs for him or herself.

And the audience is incidental.

They are there, are watching for their own benefit, even as the athlete does what needs to be done for and in the sport itself.

And seeks nothing, requires nothing from any superfluous onlookers.

So that Cindy is telling Samantha that, far from trying to ingratiate herself in their eyes, their very presence was a matter of total indifference.

And Brim doubts that Samantha will try that again.

Samantha is also highly intelligent, and thus can be relied upon to learn from experience.

Samantha smiles enigmatically, continuing to eat her lunch.

And her silence can only be taken as new respect for Cindy.

Because the other message to Samantha is the old; If you haven't tried it, don't knock it, because you really don't know what you were looking at, much less talking about.

But Cindy wonders if she has not, after all, out-clevered herself.

Because, for what she has in mind, that would hardly do.

Unless—later for that.

First, she wants to get Brim alone, if possible.

"If you two will excuse me," Cindy says, when they are done eating, "I think I'd like to go to my cabin and lie down for awhile."

"This morning's ... exertions seem to have taken their toll."

"Quite all right, my dear," Brim says. "I have to get on the phone to Paris this afternoon and see what the wild and crazy Leon has been up to, other than licking his wounds."

"Uh, Samantha, my dear, would you care to have me send the same team to you by the pool to while away the hours?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary, dear, but thanks for thinking of me."

"I may visit the kitchen this afternoon, perhaps learn a few culinary secrets from the chef."

"Fascinating to watch, actually, genius at work, that sort of thing."

And they go their separate ways.

But not for long, Cindy suspects.

Because Brim is hardly the kind to ignore the sort of erection he had earlier today.

If what Cindy was doing could be termed a sport, then he is a definite aficionado.

And one who is in a unique position not to be forced to deny himself any of the fruits of his inspiration.

So that Cindy undresses and lies naked atop her bed, waiting.

But not for long.

Because the knock comes, soft and rapid.

"Come in."

And of course, it's Brim.

And the fact that she is naked shows that she was expecting him.

"Leon can wait," Brim says.

"I had a feeling he could," Cindy replies.

"So I see."

"Well now. What shall we do?"

"Something we haven't done before."

"From that ever-narrowing list of possibilities, what is your pleasure, my dear?"

"Get naked and I'll show you."

Quickly, Brim strips, a process facilitated by the fact that he wears no underwear.

"I was hoping you'd ask," he explains.

"How very chivalrous of you to wait to be asked."

"Oh, not at all."

"If I am no longer sufficiently inspiring, then perhaps the game is over for me."

"And an excellent rule, carried over from business, is that bad news should be received as soon as possible."

"A rather dangerous head game to play with yourself, Brim," Cindy murmurs, reaching for his big, heavy balls, pulling them—and him—over to the bed, where he climbs on. "And one having more to do with me than yourself."

"How so?" he asks, lying down beside her.

"Because you could draw a false and horrible conclusion, based on the actions or non-actions of an eighteen year old girl, just out of high school."

"In which case, my dear, the game would indeed be over for me, in more ways than one."

"My success, in boardroom or bed, is built on my ability to read people."

"And if I have read you wrongly, then I am in more than one variety of deep shit."

"My, my," Cindy says, "I shall have to learn to walk on eggs."

"Oh, not at all."

"Just be your own true self and all will be well with you. And me."

"How very reassuring, Brim."

"And now, there's something I've wanted to do, ever since the first time I saw it."

"It?"

Then, "Aah."

As Cindy slides down in the bed beside Brim, her hand cupping his balls all the while.

And now, she crouches between his legs.

And takes the head of his massive prong between her lips, the saliva already starting to flow with the activation of her sexual arousal.

And now, she sucks it like a lollipop.

Her tongue explores it intimately, completely.

She examines the large indentation of the eye with the tip of her tongue.

Then, she travels all over the taut, warm, rounded surface.

Then, she explores the flared flange at the rear, rubbery and thick, going round and round, now on top, now on the bottom, where the fish head joins to the shaft.

She cannot seem to get enough of his huge knob, actually drooling over it, her sucking becoming wetter and wetter.

And now, she descends beyond the head, her lips wetly embracing part of the shaft as her cheeks form a slight vacuum.

And now, she is bobbing her head up and down, sucking his cock.

And now, she is rolling her head around, reaming her mouth with it.

And sending thrill after thrill of sexual arousal coursing through Brim's whole large frame with each rotation.

So that Brim very quickly goes to monstrously full erection.

And still Cindy does not let up.

Lower and lower she goes on the massive prong.

So that now, Brim can quite clearly feel the battering ram head of his monster against the back of her throat at each descent.

And each withdrawal brings him higher up the rainbow of his arousal, as she sucks him, her tongue caressing his hot, hard shaft, licking and flickering.

And now, because she cannot get all of him into her head, Cindy opens the back of her throat, suppressing her gag reflex, relaxing all of her neck except the connection of the trapeziums at the base of her skull, and—

Admits him.

And yes, she is lowering and lowering her head now, the great plum of his knob going beyond the soft palate, in, in, into her neck.

Slowly, surely, she goes down, down, down on him until her upper lip is in his ample bush, her lower lip touching the sack of his balls and the balls themselves, locked tightly to the base of his rampant invader now, with his full arousal.

And now, she pulls back all the way.

And goes down again, testing the angle and the action.

Satisfied, she tries it again, only faster.

It works.

So that now, she is free to bob up and down with the same confidence, the same proficiency with which she was sucking his cock before.

And still is.

Sucking, that is.

Except that now, there is more to it than just sucking.

Because this is deep throat.

And more than deep throat, this is deep throat at the bottom, then sucking at the top.

As Cindy activates the whole of her upper body's interior in Brim's behalf.

And Brim, for all his jaded experience, has never felt anything quite like this.

Which is exactly as Cindy intended.

Okay, Samantha-baby, she says, inwardly, you wanna talk about your great performances, try this one on for size, kid.

Because she knows that Brim doesn't care at the moment what this is called, other than deep throat.

And a super kind of deep throat at that.

This, he cannot get just anywhere.

This, money can't buy.

This is a unique experience, and one which he would be hard put to duplicate.

He needs, he must have ... this.

Okay, so he was shining her on somewhat before, with his talk of having the same intensity, the same hunger, the same needs as herself.

He is never out of control, all right?

But here, now, this is something which he would as soon not do without, which is therefore, in that sense, necessary to him.

And Brim is one in a position to define his necessity.

And I just have, he tells himself.

He needs this, no question.

He thought he had it all, but he was wrong.

He thought of Cindy as being just another adventure for him, but she has suddenly become more, much more than that.

As she works him into a frenzy.

So that his hands and arms are flopping about, his head rolling from side to side, his face and upper body turning florid, his breath coming in deep, hoarse gasps.

As Cindy works away on him flawlessly.

As she too becomes aroused, both from the feedback of his reactions and from the presence, within herself, inside her head and throat, of the ultimate symbol to herself of the ultimate pleasure.

The real thing, and a superb example thereof.

She has blown others before, indeed has deep throated others before this.

But nothing this size.

Nothing of such noble proportion, such ardent response.

Yes, this is special, very special indeed.

So special, in fact, that it is able to overcome these opulent surroundings which have taken on such importance to Cindy.

So that there is no question now of her needing, requiring as an integral part of her sexual satisfaction, this exotic and fabulous background.

How ironic that this should be the case, that the one cock which is perfectly acceptable without all this should be the very one which has all this, the one in whose name all this was acquired.

Because there is no doubt at all in Cindy's mind that this vessel and all who sail in her are, at the core, the foundation of their reason for being here, sexual.

And Samantha may be a hot number, but there is only one sex drive that could have produced all this, and that is Brim's.

And she is touch right now with his foundation, his core, his essence.

And she is in close communication with that drive itself.

Which is, at the moment, realizing—making real— what simply has to be its fondest hopes and imaginings.

Because yes, it can feel like this, can feel this good, this great.

No question.

Not anymore.

What you feel is what you get.

And it absolutely doesn't get any better than this.

Because, if the sensations were any more intense, any more exciting, Brim does not think he would survive them.

Yes, he would literally give up the ghost, out of sheer happiness.

And Cindy is doing this for him.

And he wishes it could go on forever.

But he has been around long enough to know that it can't.

And he does not put up a very gallant struggle to fight the feeling, to delay it.

Because the pleasure is too exquisite, too irresistible.

And too much of him wants more and more, wants to feel that next level and the next and the next of this out-of-this-world experience.

So that he very quickly finds himself coming and coming.

As Cindy pulls back her head, confining herself to sucking, in order to receive his load in her mouth, on her tongue.

As wad after wad of his hot, thick, copious jism shoots into her face, creaming tongue and roof, palate and cheeks.

As Cindy swallows again and again, savoring the very essence of the essential.

Until, at last, his spasms subside and he relaxes completely.

And Cindy goes to the bathroom, preparing two washcloths, the one soaped, the other for rinsing.

And returns to him, servicing his still tumescent organ.

And goes back and forth to the bathroom, this time returning with a towel, with which she dries him off as he begins to soften.

And stays right beside him, her body against his.

And Brim cannot say whether it is the result of what he has just experienced, whether it is Cindy's youth and beauty, or the whole atmosphere of the voyage itself.

But, whatever the case, it takes no more than ten minutes of his lying there, holding her in his arms, before—

And he tries not to let Cindy think it is anything at all out of the ordinary.

But there it is.

And he knows that, although the action before aroused Cindy, it did not get her off.

But he knows exactly what to do about that.

Except that, before he can move, she is above him, straddling him.

Then, one hand guiding the newly-awakened monster, she impales herself on it, just as she did with Bill earlier.

And rotates her hips, around and around, reaming her pussy with his huge prong.

And leans forward, brushing her nipples across his face.

And pumps up and down, her pussy sucking his cock as her mouth did earlier.

And varies her motion.

And becomes visibly excited.

So that Brim, looking up at her face, sees her color go ruddy, as it had earlier today.

Which Samantha ass hole apparently failed to observe.

Performance indeed!

Samantha has a lot to learn from this bright young lady, Brim thinks.

Just before he stops thinking altogether, surrendering his mind to the sensations of pleasure which are being generated in his body, miraculous because of their taking place so soon after his last climax.

He has not been this fast, has not been this hard, has not had this short a refractory period in fifteen years!

And this delicious creature is making it all happen to and fro and within him.

And he will not soon forget.

Which, of course, is the whole idea.

Because Cindy knows exactly what she is doing—to, for, within him.

And it is true that she is aroused.

And it is also true that right now, she too is letting go in her mind, wallowing in the lascivious sensations which are flooding through her as Brim's big baton boffs her bounteously, responding to her every move.

So that now, together, they rise higher and higher, until—

They are coming and coming, her multiple orgasms interspersed with his discharge, more muscular action than product this time around, but who cares?

Until, at last, their spasms subside, then cease.

And Brim clasps her to himself.

And Cindy knows.

She knows that she can "work" on this ship next summer.

She knows that she can have a part time job at Brim's main office.

She knows that he will see her as often as possible.

She knows that Samantha will not have jack shit to say about any of this.

When Samantha can do for Brim what Cindy can, Cindy tells herself, then she can have her say in what he does with her, in what they do together.

Confident in this, she snuggles up to Brim and together, they fall asleep.

The voyage is over.

They have cruised the Mediterranean, stopping frequently, seeing the sights, from Marseilles to Trieste on the Adriatic.

Cindy has procured all the necessary promises from Brim, of course.

And she is willing to let Samantha do her damnedest, for all the good it will do her, to foil Cindy's—and Brim's—plans.

Her parents have been effusive in their thanks to the Steeles.

And now, there is all that shopping to do for school.

And all this unpacking, as her mother marvels over the expensive gifts the Steeles have procured for Cindy along the way.

Cindy says nothing to her folks about her plans for next summer, or about her internship with Brim's firm.

Too soon, she tells herself. First, do well in school.

She takes it easy her first few days back home, other than for the shopping, which is intense.

She lets nobody know she's back.

But then, one day, the phone rings.

One of the boys from school, it is.

And his voice touches a chord within herself that she thought was now reserved for sex with young sailors and horny broads and aging men with big cocks on luxury ships.

And she realizes that she is going to have to accommodate herself.

Because she still has this need, this itch which must be scratched.

And here is Phil, on the line, waiting and, she is sure, ready.

And sure, it'll be Burger King and not Crab Louis.

And a cheap motel room and not the master cabin of an ocean-going motor yacht.

And it'll be an ordinary, healthy young cock and not that of some lusty sailor or gracefully maturing giant of a tycoon.

But when the need is as acute, as obsessive as Cindy's, one learns to adjust, to adapt.

"I'd love to see you, Phil ... Tonight? Why not? ... Okay, see ya in fifteen. Ciao."

She will have a good time with Phil and vice versa.

And try not to think about a huge yacht, lit up like an ocean liner, wending its way majestically down the coast to Miami, where the Steeles will be staying for a short while, before heading back this way.