It was the rum, she told herself. It had to be the rum, causing all of this.
“Ever kiss a girl?” Chris asked, his voice even more heated, his face still right next to hers.
“No.” She didn’t look at him this time—she kept her eyes on the stage, where one of the girls now massaged the other’s breasts, much to the delight of the audience.
“Ever want to?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Even right now?”
She glanced over at him. And lied through her teeth. “No.”
He grinned. “I don’t believe you.”
God, was she that transparent? She looked away and took another sip of her drink, draining it, then threw him a smile. “I need a refill.”
Her attention was drawn back to the stage when the cheers and applause for the two hot girls faded and Scott took charge again. “Thank you very much, ladies, for my hard-on.” The crowd responded with more whistles and cheers. “Now I’m gonna let some more of you lovely girls get us guys even harder, because it’s time for the wet t-shirt contest.”
Male howls filled the air and Carrie realized that the boat’s entire atmosphere had changed, turning so thick with sex you could almost smell it, taste it.
“Ladies, see me behind the partition for your t-shirt,” Scott said.
God, the party just kept getting hotter and hotter. Much more arousal and she’d probably disintegrate, self-destruct. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d ever been this hot and worked up, even through all her years with Jon.
“I dare you,” came a low, husky voice in her ear.
She turned toward it. “What?”
Chris’s eyes turned glassy with want as he leaned forward to deliver a short, open-mouthed kiss to her lips. It traveled through her like a lit fuse racing toward an explosion, and when it reached the juncture of her thighs—God, she almost thought she could come, just from that.
“I said…I dare you.” He gave his head a provocative tilt and his voice remained a raspy growl. “Come on, angel. Misbehave. Cut loose. Play. Just for me.”
“Come on, ladies—don’t be shy,” Scott was saying into the mike now. It saved her from responding to Chris’s request, but didn’t stop her from letting the words sink down into her.
“Last chance,” he whispered.
Last chance, she thought. Last chance to let him see her, to let him watch her doing something wild. Last chance to make him fall in lust with her.
“And supposing I took this dare, what do I get out of it?”
He glanced down to the lei around his neck and said, “Free lei,” although, of course, she heard free lay, which made her giggle. “And…” he took a quick look down at the dwindling vat of punch next to him “…all the rum punch you can drink.”
“I already have that. And I’ve already drunk…too much, if I’m actually considering this.”
“Well, then, you’ll win my undying appreciation, because just between you and me,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I’m dying to see your breasts, angel.”
As his sexy words echoed through her, seeming to permeate her skin, she took a deep breath, her chest tightening, her mons aching relentlessly.
“Okay,” she said.
Chapter Two
His eyebrows lifted in pleasurable surprise. “Really?”
Oh God, what had she just said? She clearly had lost her mind now. “No,” she spat, retracting her agreement. “No, I…can’t. I’m sorry. I thought maybe I could there for a second, but I can’t.”
He gave his head a quizzical tilt. “You want to.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
She’d never met anyone with more persuasive eyes. “I mean you wouldn’t have said yes if, deep down inside, you didn’t want to be just a little bit bad for me.”
Mmm, yes, it had definitely been for him that she’d wanted to bare herself, and maybe if it were just the two of them, alone…but it wasn’t.
“All right, guys,” Scott’s voice sounded through the mike, drawing their attention back to the stage, “get ready for lots of hot ladies! First up we have Jessica!”
A cute girl with short brown hair strutted onto the stage wearing bikini bottoms and a thin white tee that had been altered into a miniscule tank top, cut low and cropped just below her ample breasts. A guy Scott had picked from the audience approached her with a bucket of water, which he poured over her shoulders, drenching her in a huge splash. The skimpy t-shirt clung tight and transparent to her boobs, accentuating her pale curves and showing off dark, pointed nipples. As the crowd cheered, she danced sensually to the music that played, gyrating her hips, thrusting out the mounds so visible beneath the wet cotton, running her hands over them as she licked her lips.
“Let’s hear it for Jessica!” Scott yelled, and both the guys and girls in the audience whistled and screamed.
“Next is Nicole!”
The thin blonde who took the stage wore shorts beneath her tiny tee and this time two guys from the audience approached to spray her down with large water guns, each focusing on one breast while she held her arms over her head and watched her chest just as they did. She shimmied for them a little as they worked and soon her small, petite breasts shone clearly through. Like Jessica, Nicole did some dirty dancing, even running her hand down over the crotch of her short denim shorts, before responding to some yells of, “Show your tits!” by peeling the plastered cotton upward and jiggling her small pink nipples before the appreciative crowd.
As girl after girl was introduced, Carrie saw both big breasts and small, girls who ended up literally ripping their t-shirts off to go topless, and one who put her hand down her bikini bottoms to play with herself while the guys in the crowd went wild.
She’d been with Jon so long that she’d never understood how people could do intimate things with strangers, yet watching the blatant sexuality on the boat made her wonder if she had the chance with Chris…would she? Could she? God knew he was hot. But could she get intimate with a guy she’d just met? It was so far outside of her experience.
She’d be willing to bet Diana had been in more than one such contest in her life. What would it be like? Would it be liberating? Freeing? Was she somehow “trapped” and didn’t know it?
“Next up is Christine!” Scott yelled before a stunning, shapely blonde came on stage, her large breasts pointing boldly through the cotton even before a bucket of water was dumped on them. Molding her big mounds through the shirt, she licked her lips and did a hot, grinding dance, clearly enjoying the yells of the guys in the crowd. Finally easing the cotton up over her curves, she revealed big, beautiful breasts. Dancing over to Scott, she began rubbing her body up against him, leaving wet marks at his chest and the crotch of his shorts. He thrust back in rhythm with her pumping movements until she turned to the nearest girl—a topless redhead with pretty, medium-sized boobs and drew her into a hot kiss.
It was all Carrie could do not to touch herself, an urge and frustration that was getting worse by the second. Chris still leaned over the bar behind her. She could sense his nearness, her skin prickling with sexual awareness. Glancing down, she found her sensitive nipples jutting prominently through her bra and shirt, aching for sensation—any kind of sensation—a touch, a tweak, a kiss…or a clingy wet t-shirt.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Carrie’s longing crossed a bold new line, a line where she no longer cared about propriety or about what had felt right or wrong to her as recently as yesterday. For once in her life, she was going to do just do what she felt like—she was going to quit being such a damn angel.
Without saying a single word to Chris or even glancing his way, she pushed off the stool and headed for the stage. When she reached it, a girl with long brown hair was teasing the crowd, covering her wet breasts with her hands before slowly pulling them away with a provocative grin. Scott’s eyes were glued on her, but Carrie reached up to pull on his sleeve.
&nbs
p; He looked down. “Whatcha need, honey?”
“Is it too late to get a t-shirt?” Her heart pumped a mile a minute.
A grin stretched across his face. “Of course not. Just walk around back and you’ll see a box of them. Hurry, though—this girl’s the last one, so you’re up next. What’s your name?”
“Carrie,” she yelled to be heard above the music.
“See you in a minute, Carrie,” he said with a wink.
Feeling rushed, she walked briskly behind the stage where a small partition was erected. Girls’ shirts, bras, shoes, and bikini tops lay scattered about and as soon as she plucked up one of the skimpy t-shirts, she didn’t hesitate to take off her own. Her body hummed with excitement, anticipation filling her as she dropped her bra and felt the warm, tropical breeze blow over her breasts, tightening her nipples even further. What would it be like to parade half naked before all those hungry eyes? Before Chris’s hungry eyes? Her crotch throbbed.
Just as she pulled the tiny tee down over her boobs, she heard Scott’s magnified voice. “And finally, give it up for our last lovely lady, Carrie!”
Letting her tongue slide sensually across her upper lip, Carrie paraded onto the stage as boldly as any stripper in her cotton tee and short skirt. Approaching the center, she saw two hot-looking guys with super soaker water guns heading her way. Reaching up, she ran her hands down over her breasts, smoothing the t-shirt and thrusting out her chest to welcome their spray.
It only took a few shots from each big gun to drench her—the cool water sucked the cotton against her rounded flesh, providing a little of the stimulation she longed for there, so she jiggled her breasts in order to feel more. Her crotch tingled madly as the crowd yelled their raucous approval. A sense of raw sexuality spiraled through her as the guys with water guns peered down at her soaked mounds and a shout of “Shake it, baby!” echoed from the audience.
It took little prodding to provoke her into some dirty dancing—her body was dying to thrust and shimmy and sway. As she did a turn, wiggling her ass toward the crowd, she gazed on all the girls standing in a line behind her—some topless, their breasts naked and tan lined against the sea breeze, others still in their sexy, revealing wet clinging tees. A forbidden desire thrilled her, and brought out still more unplanned daring in her as she reached behind her to begin lifting her skirt in back, slowly, teasingly, while the guys watching cheered this sexy new move. Finally, she drew it up over her ass—she was wearing a lacy white thong she’d gotten as a shower gift. The crowd reacted like animals in heat as she molded her hands to her ass cheeks.
One of the guys wielding the huge, phallic-like water gun stepped up and shot a barrage of water onto her bare ass and the strip of panty stretching across her mound below. She was dripping wet there now, too, gyrating her hips as the guys yelled out, “Nice ass!” and more howls of excitement filled the air.
Finally, turning back to face the crowd, she followed her instincts and did what she’d been dying to do for hours—she massaged both breasts, taking the needy globes full in her hands, kneading and squeezing. She used thumbs and forefingers to tweak her hard nipples, glancing down to see the pink buds pointing through the soaked cotton that hugged her so closely.
The guys in the crowd continued to whistle their pleasure, but she realized she didn’t really care what they thought—she peered past them, back toward the bar, to Chris. He stood behind the counter, his chin propped on one fist, watching her with a sensuous smile. She didn’t know if he could tell from that distance that she was looking at him, but she continued gazing on him as she twirled her nipples between her fingers, sending little shockwaves of heat into the panties that were now even wetter than her t-shirt.
It was in that moment, as strangers yelled for more of her responsive body, that she realized she wanted to win. She wanted to be the hottest, wildest girl on this stage. She wanted to prove to herself she could be that. And she wanted to show Chris she could be more than the angel she’d painted herself to him earlier.
Still rotating her ass, her mostly wet skirt now draped at her hips, she reached down and peeled up her clingy t-shirt until her breasts were bared to the crowd, her pink nipples standing at taut attention. Licking her upper lip, she slid her hands from her smooth stomach back up over the bare pale mounds of sensitive flesh, caressing them as sensually as if she were making love to herself.
But that wasn’t enough to win, she thought. And she wanted that so desperately now—she wanted to be the hottest, most daring girl Chris had ever seen.
So while still using one hand to play with her breasts, she slid the other down, over her bare stomach, over the bunched skirt, and onto the mound that seemed swollen against her tight thong. Curling her fingers around the elastic between her thighs, she pulled it to one side, showing her tawny pubic hair and the slit in between.
The crowd went absolutely mad, cheering and yelling. Her dependable man with the big water gun sprayed her down, the stream spurting directly on her clitoris and nearly making her come as she involuntarily thrust toward the thick jet of water as if it were a solid thing. She sensed her slit was spreading as she danced, gyrating, caressing her breasts while the continuing torrent from the super soaker drenched her below.
If she didn’t stop soon, she’d come. Right here on the stage. And while, in her ultra-heightened state of arousal, the concept held a certain raw appeal, she didn’t want to come for all of these people. She wanted to come only for Chris, since it was because of him that she was up here, doing the unthinkable, doing things she wouldn’t have believed possible only an hour ago.
So she finally stopped dancing, turned away from the streaming water, and pulled her underwear and skirt back into place. But since some of the girls behind her had long since shed their wet tees, she didn’t bother pulling hers back down, leaving the D cups that she’d never fully appreciated until just now on full display—for the crowd, for Chris.
One by one, Scott collected applause for each contestant. When he reached Christine, the sexy girl who’d made out with the redhead, the crowd cheered loudly. As Scott got nearer and nearer to Carrie, her heart and crotch beat madly, waiting, waiting. If she’d done all this and didn’t win…well, it somehow seemed terribly important to walk away victorious—the best, the sexiest.
When Scott said, “Let’s hear what you thought of Carrie, with her gorgeous breasts and that pretty pussy!” the whistles and cheers were nearly overwhelming, almost deafening. Looking out into the crowd, she saw that both guys and women yelled for her and she knew she’d won the contest even before Scott said, “Looks like sexy Carrie is our very wet winner!”
Lowering the microphone, Scott said to her with a provocative grin, “Very nice show, honey—you deserve this,” and shoved a hundred dollar bill into her hand. Then he turned back to the crowd, saying, “Let’s give it up for all these lovely ladies willing to bare their breasts for us!” and the audience responded.
“Now,” Scott said, “the rest of the cruise is all yours! Drink some more rum, do some dirty dancing with one of these half-naked chicks, or do whatever the hell gets you off!”
Carrie knew what she was going to do. And she wasn’t going to waste another second waiting. Shoving the hundred dollar bill into the pocket of her skirt, she reached up and pulled her wet tee back down over her breasts and made her way briskly off the stage.
Someone grabbed her wrist. She looked up to find the sexy blond guy who no longer wielded his massive super soaker. “Wanna dance, babe?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’m with someone else.”
He drew back, looking surprised. “Lucky son of a bitch.”
She wasn’t technically with someone else, of course, but she was about to be with him as much as she possibly could.
Pushing her way through the crowd, she noticed it was getting pretty raucous, sprinkled with girls like her, still wearing their wet t-shirts, and some wearing no shirts at all, Hawaiian leis draped about their bare br
easts. Girls who weren’t even in the contest were pulling their bikini tops off or letting guys unbutton blouses, undo bras. She saw one girl kneeling in front of a guy and realized she was giving him a blowjob while another guy stood by, penis exposed, apparently awaiting his turn. The blonde and redhead from the contest were grinding against each other in a hot, dirty dance and the blonde, Christine, said, “Carrie, wanna join us?”
“Yeah, Carrie, why don’t you join them, honey?” It was Scott, his arm around another topless girl wearing her pink lei like a headband, both of them watching the grinding bikinis and rubbing breasts.
Her crotch rumbled with need and she almost thought that in some other place in time, she might actually follow her urges, give up her mores completely, and say yes, but she was determined to get to Chris—to make sure he knew she’d done all this for him and was willing to do a lot more.
* * * * *
Chris had watched her whole little show in a state of arousal that had deepened every second. She was so fucking gorgeous, so sexy. She’d been sexy enough back when she’d been playing the shy angel, but once she’d gotten up on that stage—damn. His cock had been hard since her arrival on the boat, but it was a complete column of stone now.
He wasn’t sure where she’d disappeared to in the crowd, but he was dying to lick her pretty wet nipples and sink his shaft into the equally wet and pretty pussy she’d revealed to the crowd. Of course, he couldn’t exactly do those things, right here, right now, so the rest of the boat ride would likely be torture—but he’d survive, and as soon as they set foot on dry land, he planned to get her someplace alone and ease both their aches.
God, he’d nearly come just watching her strip up on the stage. He couldn’t help thinking she’d done it for him—even if the rum, and maybe her wedding fiasco, had played a part in it, too. What a bastard she’d almost married. Thank God she’d found out the truth before saying “I do.” Even so, he could tell from their earlier conversation that she was a sensitive woman, and he couldn’t imagine how much it had hurt.
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