Looking out over the lusty crowd, he saw lots of people stripping down now, getting wet. He saw girls sucking cock and guys licking pussy—one girl licking pussy. Threesomes, foursomes, the whole boat had turned into a wild orgy—it was becoming what was easily one of the wildest times he’d ever witnessed on the Barge—and he couldn’t help thinking Carrie’s pretty flash of cunt had been one ingredient pushing the crowd to such a raw, sensual frenzy.
Just when he was beginning to fear she had forgotten him and gotten involved with someone else on the boat, she appeared, walking straight toward him, determination written in her lustful eyes. Her beautiful breasts pressed pale and wet against the ripped up t-shirt she still wore, her nipples showing through in dark rosy points surrounded by wide, pretty areolas. Her little skirt hung damp around the tops of her thighs.
He walked around the bar to meet her, unconcerned with the hard-on poking prominently up from the front of his khaki shorts. She planted her palms on his chest, lowered her chin, and almost—almost—looked like the shy girl she’d been a couple of hours ago. “Did you like my performance?”
He tilted his head because the question was so unnecessary. “God, yeah, baby. Everybody else did, too.”
She looked proud, triumphant. “Were you surprised?”
He laughed. “You could say that. I kept wondering where the girl in the angel shirt disappeared to.”
She lowered her chin coyly. “In case you didn’t notice, I took that shirt off.”
He let his gaze drop to her breasts, so visible through the thin cotton. “Oh yeah, angel, I noticed, all right.”
She peered up at him, her eyes glassy and wild. “Do I get my free lei now?”
He couldn’t help grinning. He reached down, lifting the lei from his neck and onto hers, sorry when it covered his view of her a little. He lifted it up, toward her neck, so that it dangled down her back instead of her front. “That’s better,” he said.
“That wasn’t exactly what I was talking about,” she said, a hint of playfulness mixing with her determination. And with that, she pushed him backward until he bumped against the built-in bench that ran the length of the boat and sat down on it. She wasted no time straddling his hips, lowering her pussy onto his erection through their clothes. “Damn, angel,” he murmured.
He wanted to touch her—wanted to run his hands up her thighs, over her cotton-covered breasts, so fucking bad. But he couldn’t. He let out a groan of frustration as she began rubbing her cunt on his cock. “Jesus,” he moaned.
“I’m so hot for you,” she breathed. Her cute little skirt was up to her hips again and he glanced down to the white lace covering her slit as she rocked it against him. His chest felt like it would explode and he had to spread his arms out across the back of the bench and hold on tight to keep from touching her, her ass and breasts beckoning.
“What’s wrong?” she finally said, slowing her movements when she noticed he wasn’t responding.
“I kinda…can’t do this.”
She blinked, looking suddenly forlorn. “You don’t want to?”
“No, angel, believe me, I’m dying to. I’m so fucking hard from watching you, and your breasts are so damn beautiful, but…it’s against the rules.”
She drew back slightly, clearly surprised. “Don’t tell me I’m the first girl on one of these cruises to put the moves on you?” She glanced over to where Scott was engaged in some dirty dancing with a girl in only a lei and a pair of bikini bottoms.
“No, but we have a rule. We can be touched, but we can’t touch back. My bosses have to worry about being sued by someone who remembers things differently later. They’re standing right there in the galley doorway—” he motioned to the two men across the boat “—and I’ll lose my job if I touch you. I’ve seen it happen to guys before, and unfortunately, I can’t afford to give up this income just yet.” He paused and thought he felt her cunt sink a bit lower on his dick. “Although it would almost be worth it.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “Do you want me to get off of you?”
“God, no, baby.” He sighed, took a deep breath. “I’m in a tough position here, damned if I do and damned if I don’t. But why don’t you…” He lifted his pelvis against her lightly.
“What?” she said.
He pulled up a sexy smile. “Why don’t you give me a lap dance?”
She grinned. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
He returned it. “I’m guessing you’ve never done anything like bare your breasts and pussy for a crowd of hungry guys, either.”
She raised her eyebrows. “True enough.”
Then she began to grind sensually against him, once more undulating her soft cunt on his long, hard shaft.
“Ah, baby, that feels so good. My cock is so hard for you. Can you feel it?”
“Mmm.” She nodded, letting her eyes fall shut as she continued rocking her body, moving her hips in sexy circles.
“Your pussy feels so sweet sliding around on me, angel. Show it to me.”
She opened her eyes, looking slightly shocked.
“Come on, now, baby. You showed everybody else. Show me, too.”
Carrie pulled in her breath, stunned by the breadth of her excitement—it suddenly seemed there was nothing she wouldn’t do. Her whole body tingled with anticipation, and her hand actually trembled when she rose slightly on her knees, reached down, and pulled the wet lace aside again. Glancing down, she found her slit gaping open, her inner lips and clit on display between the light tawny curls.
She watched as Chris drew in a ragged breath at the sight, then groaned.
When she lowered herself back onto his erection, he felt incredibly big—bigger than she’d seriously imagined anyone being, but then again, she’d only been with Jon. She suddenly had the notion that she’d been missing out on a lot.
“You’ve got such beautiful breasts, angel. Do you have any idea how much I want to suck on those pretty pink nipples? I want to suck them so deep into my mouth that you scream.”
Oooh, she wanted that, too. Clawing her fingernails lightly into his chest, she drew her hands away and brought them to her breasts, where she tweaked her nipples through the wet shirt for him, sending trickles of sensation down through her crotch.
“Oh, that’s so nice, angel.”
Into it now, Carrie sensually squeezed her breasts as she rode his hard-on in simulated sex. Mmm, his solid length felt so good pressing up into her through his zipper. Pushing up her shirt until it was over her breasts, she continued playing with them, caressing their full weight, letting the beaded nipples jut against her palm before peeking out between her fingers, which she then used to lightly pinch them.
“So fucking hot, baby,” he murmured, and she heard her own breath go ragged as the sensation between her thighs stretched outward, upward, becoming more intense as she twirled the pink nipples between her thumb and forefinger while he watched.
“Oooh,” she moaned softly.
“Are you gonna come soon, angel?”
She bit her lip. “Maybe.” She didn’t talk about coming with Jon—it either just happened or it didn’t—and this caught her off guard.
“I want to make you come so hard, baby. I want my cock rubbing against your clit to get you off so good.”
She pulled in her breath, rocking harder against him.
“That’s right, rub that sweet pussy against me until you come.”
He was a god, and her pussy was so hot for him. And—oh! She’d never even thought of using that word before now, ever in her life, but there it was, in her mind, like so many other new things today, suddenly part of her vocabulary. She decided to try it out aloud. “My pussy is so hot, so close,” she murmured.
He drew back slightly, hissing in his breath, and she could tell he liked hearing her say it. She clutched at her breasts, squeezing them hard, tight—wanting to feel everything. Desire gathered, thick and compact, in her clit, as she yelled out, “Oh God!”
>
The shattering climax broke over her as she rode him, hard, hard, hard, pulsing from her crotch to her breasts, all the way out to her fingers and toes. She moaned as it tore through her body, driving her pussy against his hard length again and again. Each wave of searing pleasure drew a harsh gasp into her lungs, which seemed to somehow softly extend the next wave, and the next.
Finally, the orgasm eased, fading into quiet. Around them, other people moaned and groaned, but it seemed even the crowd had gone softer, too—and Carrie suspected she wasn’t the only person on this boat who had reached ecstasy. Salty sea air filled her nostrils as a strange sense of sadness fell over her. She still straddled him—he was still hard beneath her—but because he couldn’t touch her, she couldn’t help feeling alone.
“God,” she whispered, coming back to herself, unable to believe the things she’d done on this boat. The orgasm had turned her more sober.
“How was that?”
She looked up to find him smiling, still into the moment, unaware she was suffering disbelief and embarrassment. Try to get it back. Try to be hot and sexy for him again. “Um…incredible.” Not a lie. Not a lie at all. It was the most outstanding orgasm she’d ever had.
“I’d give anything to hug you right now, angel, to hold you. I’m so sorry I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. Reaching down, she pulled her panties back into place. She’d never felt so strange and awkward in her life—not even yesterday, when she’d found her friend Eileen bending over the penis jutting from Jon’s tux. She simply couldn’t believe what she’d just done, who she’d just become—for Chris.
“Chris, we need you at the stern.”
Carrie looked up to find one of the men he’d pointed out as an owner of the Party Barge.
“Hi, honey,” the older man said.
She pulled her top back down—even wet, it was better than nothing. “Hi,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
When he departed, she climbed off Chris, taking a seat on the bench next to him.
“Damn, angel—I have to help get the boat in. Don’t move, though, I’ll be back.”
She nodded, watching him go. Then made a beeline through the partiers back to the stage, where she found she wasn’t the only girl trying to locate her bra and top. Peeling the wet t-shirt over her head, she found the blonde, well-endowed Christine smiling at her. “You have gorgeous breasts.”
Despite her sudden sobriety and accompanying sheepishness, an unbidden sensation rippled through her panties. “Thank you.”
“Hey, want to go get some drinks with some hot guys I met? We could party together.”
Twenty minutes ago, she might have actually been tempted—or at least have been tempted if Chris were coming along. “Sorry, I…can’t.”
Quickly, she put her bra back on and slid her baby doll tee over her head, pulling it down to her hips. She tried to straighten her khaki shirt, glad the breeze and tropical temperatures were beginning to make it feel more damp than wet, so people wouldn’t have a reason to stare once she left the boat.
Glancing out over the water and Sunset Key, now only a silhouette in the distance, she realized she’d—they’d all—missed the sunset, as now only a dim glow remained to light the sky. But she was glad it had turned dark, since it helped her keep a low profile as the boat eased into port.
Around her, people talked, flirted, or recovered from sexual liaisons, but she kept to herself. As soon as the boat docked, Scott’s voice came over the mike. “Thanks for cruising with us on the Party Barge. Hope you all had a great time, and from what I saw,” he said with a laugh, “you sure as hell did.” She took that as her cue to head to the front of the boat, where she’d entered. She wasted no time darting through the crowd and off the catamaran into the darkness.
“Angel, wait!”
She gasped—Chris had seen her leave. But she didn’t stop walking—she kept moving, step after quick step, mortified at her behavior and desperate to be alone. In one sense, the things she’d done tonight had been so utterly exciting, freeing, and just plain hot fun—yet she was the family angel, whom her sister Diana had once declared, “the only person I know more prim and proper than Liz.” Even Liz had loosened up now, saying that finding her P.I. guy Jack had made it easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t coming that simple to Carrie. Twenty-six years of walking the straight and narrow had left her feeling supremely embarrassed, and unable to accept that she’d committed acts so unlike her. And she’d enjoyed it. God, had she ever enjoyed it.
The truth was, even as she made her way back to the hotel abreast of the marina, her pussy—yes, she couldn’t seem to not think of it that way now—her pussy pulsed with the memories, the sexual liberation, the sheer magnetism she’d felt toward Chris.
But like touching herself on the balcony today—this couldn’t be real, couldn’t be her. If it was, she didn’t know herself at all anymore. And that was just too big a concept to fathom.
* * * * *
Back in her lavish suite, Carrie showered and put on one of the silky chemises she’d gotten for her wedding shower—this one a coral color and given to her by Liz because “it seemed sexy and tropical and will look great against a tan.”
She considered lying in bed, watching TV, or trying once more to read her book, but she remained too wound up from the events on the boat. It wasn’t that she regretted them exactly, it was just that…well, she’d been so forward. More than forward. She’d been out-of-her-head wild and hedonistic. And when it had all been over, she’d felt so mortally embarrassed she’d just needed to escape.
Checking the mini-bar, she found a kiwi wine cooler. After unscrewing the top, she turned off the lamp in the room and stepped out onto her balcony to soak up the peaceful Key West night.
Peaceful here, anyway. A few blocks away on Duval Street, she knew people were drinking and carousing and probably behaving much like they had—like she had—on the boat today. Like earlier, but for a different reason now, she was glad her balcony looked out on the ocean. Settling in a lounge chair, she studied the streak of silver cast across the dark water from the light of the moon and let the beauty and warmth of the tropical night begin to relax her.
She was halfway through her cooler when she heard a noise and looked across to the other balcony, set at a right angle from hers. The light from inside the room gave her a clear view of the woman who came out wearing—oh my!—a leather…bra, or maybe it was more like a harness, since it only stretched around her breasts, rather than covering them. The leather straps comprising the garment were connected by thick silver rings and she wore a black collar around her neck, a silver ring suspended from its center. In place of panties, more black leather bands connected, circling her hips, and two bands extended down between her legs, on either side of her pussy, which Carrie noticed immediately was shaved bare but for a patch of hair well above her slit. The woman looked about her age and was lovely with long, blonde wavy hair that fell over her shoulders, and firm breasts with beaded nipples that looked like sheer perfection poking through the leather.
Reaching the rail, the woman turned her back against it, giving Carrie a nice view of her nude profile, extending down to wicked-looking thigh-high boots, the likes of which she’d only seen in the occasional catalog.
Carrie stayed very quiet, not even daring to lift her bottle from the table next to her for a drink. Her nipples had turned to hard peaks against the silky chemise.
“Where’s my dirty little sex slave?” a man’s voice called from inside the open balcony door.
“I’m out here, master.”
Carrie’s first thought was that the woman sounded like Barbara Eden in old episodes of I Dream of Jeannie, her very tone conveying a sexual compliance that made Carrie’s pussy begin to swell slightly within her panties.
The man exited onto the balcony wearing only a leather collar that matched his partner’s. His cock stood incredibly large and erect between his thighs, the very sight making C
arrie’s cunt flutter uncontrollably. “Are you being bad again? Trying to hide from me?”
The pretty blonde shook her head. “Oh no, master. My only wish is to please you.”
“Then get on your knees and suck my cock.”
Again, Carrie’s pussy spasmed. She’d heard about such games of domination, of course, but she’d never witnessed one. She watched as the woman followed the hot guy’s order, kneeling before him, wrapping one hand around his big shaft, and lowering her mouth onto it. The blonde went at her task so ravenously that wet slurping sounds filled the air. On instinct, Carrie eased one hand down between her thighs. She didn’t move it, but just cupped her mound, somehow trying to ease the ache there even as she attempted to suppress it.
“That’s right, slave girl, suck me.” He took the blonde’s face in his hands, tilting it back so he could watch her. “You look so hot going down on me, baby. That’s right. Keep sucking. Be a good slave and you might even get a reward.”
Carrie continued studying the scene with bated breath, her every pore seeming to tingle with the forbidden thrill of watching the leather couple. Finally, the guy said, “All right, slave girl, you can stop now. Get up and lean back against the railing.”
The woman did so, her face flushed, her eyes wide with excitement. Carrie hadn’t seen the guy carry anything out with him, but he suddenly produced two sets of silver handcuffs that gleamed in the moonlight. He used them to encase each of her wrists, locking each accompanying cuff to the railing so her arms were stretched out on either side of her. Even from her balcony, Carrie could see the girl’s face still brimmed with anticipation, even as she pretended to be frightened. “What are you going to do me now, master?”
“I’m going to lick your hot little cunt.” He spoke the words as if they were the worst punishment. Next, he dropped down between her thighs and said, “Spread, slave.”
Key West Page 4
