More Cruisin', Boozin', and Susan

(Readers: Thank you, thank you, THANK you!!!! for your amazing response to the first part of this work. Your views, comments and feedback are much appreciated. You've been the inspiration to continue this little story between two people who find themselves shipmates on a Caribbean cruise. I'm continuing to make Phil's experience on board as accurate as I can recall. Reading Part 1 isn't a requirement, but if you'd like to, you can find it here:)

Part 1 --

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I wake up first.

The soft light of sunrise is just beginning to brighten the sheer curtains covering the sliding balcony door. I don't recall closing them so I assume Susan did.

I slip out of bed as softly as I can and head to Susan's bathroom.

I pee, then locate and swirl a little of her toothpaste in my mouth. I return to find Susan laying on her stomach on the right side of the bed.

Her eyes open as I come back into the stateroom. I'm naked and Susan smiles a sexy, droopy smile at me.

"Good morning," I say softly as I move around the foot of the bed to the open side.

"Mmmmm... it IS a good morning, isn't it?" Susan coos as she stretches and rolls over onto her back and then continues to roll onto her right side.

Perhaps it's because of the stretch, but the bedding we slept under now only covers about the middle of Susan's back. Her left boob is beautifully exposed.

And I can't help but shift my eyes to take in the view.

I sleep naked on the regular. It's a little thrilling to think that Susan does too, or at least will once in a while.

"After such a wonderful day," Susan continues, "and such a fabulous night, how could this morning be any better?"

I've gotten to the open side of the bed. Rather than getting back under the covers, I sit side-saddle facing the head of the bed with this gorgeous goddess naked within it.

I lean down to give Susan a good-morning kiss. She raises her torso up and tilts her head to meet my lips. It's a soft kiss, and I let it rest for five or six seconds.

"I think we both probably have some pretty exciting ideas about how we could make it better," I say softly after the kiss breaks.

"But first, I need some coffee."

Susan's soft smile turns into a pout as she exaggeratedly pushes her lower lip forward. She allows her right cheek to drop back down to the bed. And her eyes close.

"There, there," I scold quietly, "no boo-boo lips."

Eyes still closed, Susan emits a soft laugh through her nose and her lips revert to a cute smile.

"That's what my Granny used to call it," Susan says softly.

I bend down and kiss Susan lightly on her head just in front of her ear.

"Can I bring you something?" I ask quietly. I'm standing now and trying to locate my clothes from last night.

"Mmmm, coffee?... that'd be nice," Susan replies sleepily.

"How do you like it?" I ask, as I step into my briefs.

"I like it black," Susan answers.

"Like you like your men?" I ask quietly.

Susan's eyes pop open and look to mine, only to find me wearing a Cheshire smile as I put on my shirt.

She gets the joke. As she raises herself out of the bed, Susan fake-scolds me:

"If we're going to duel with movie quotes from 'Airplane,'" she cautions as she pivots her feet to the floor, "it's gonna be a long day."

"Roger, over," I reply. Susan doesn't say "Huh?"

Instead, Susan is sitting on the open side of the bed, facing me. Her hair is sexily tousled and her hands are slightly behind her, pressing her boobs forward on her chest a little.

I'm putting on my slacks and it's a struggle not to ogle the vision before me.

Susan stops me. "Phil, wait. Come here," she beckons.

I comply, and take the couple of steps toward this incredibly beautiful -- and naked -- woman. I stop with my knees nearly touching hers. I'm holding my pants up with a hand on each side.

Susan's gaze has followed my approach and she's now sitting centered on her ass. She drops her eyes and they move to the waistband of my briefs. Her fingers follow.

"When you come back," Susan purrs as she pulls the elastic forward as far as it will go. Then her eyes trail up my body to meet mine.

"You'd better not be wearing these." She releases her fingers and the elastic snaps back into place.

I laugh softly as I fasten my pants, buckle my belt, and slip on my huarches.

I step toward the door to Susan's stateroom.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I whisper.

Susan's stateroom door closes behind me.

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I don't go to the coffee stand right away. Probably because I look like hell.

I fish out my Sea Pass card and activate the electronic lock to my room just on the other side of the bulkhead in the hallway.

My stateroom door closes behind me and I glance at the mirror just inside. Yes, I look like hell. Maybe even more like hammered shit.

I strip out of my clothes and step into my bathroom for a quick shower.

I don't know about the rest of you, but there are activities in my life that often leave a lingering scent that seemingly comes back to life the next time I step under the warm water of a shower.

Smoke from a wood fire. Gunpowder or whatever they use in fireworks. The pungent tinge of freshly-mown grass.

This morning, as the warm water hits me, I'm suddenly immersed with a wet, wonderful aroma of a sexually-aroused woman. The aroma of Susan from last night.

It's almost an out-of-body experience; an instant replay of the remarkable fuck session I had just a few hours ago with the vixen who's cruising the Caribbean right next door to me. It surprises me, and I'm instantly wishing that I could preserve it... that I don't want to wash it away.

I trace my fingers softly under my nose and inhale deeply. Yes. I can still smell her.

And my cock stiffens a little in response.

But I have to get clean. And Susan is waiting.

I shower, dry my hair, and brush my teeth. I shaved before meeting Susan for Sail-Away yesterday afternoon; we both can live with a little stubble this morning.

I select a swim suit and matching T-shirt my youngest daughter, Mandy, gave me as a bon voyage gift. It's Tommy Bahama so I know it was over-priced, but hopefully I'll look presentable wearing it. I put my huaraches back on.

Thankfully, it's still somewhat early on a Sea Day and many of the passengers are taking an opportunity to sleep in this morning.

There is, as I understand, a normal early crush at the elevator banks of people trying to get to the pool decks before the rush and set their towels and fol-de-rol on deck chairs to reserve them. But all those people are going up.

My elevator, going down, "bings" pretty quickly and I'm in the car by myself.

Now I'm standing at Susan's stateroom door with two steaming Starbucks cups and a couple of pastries in one of those crappy cardboard holders.

I knock softly twice, then once, on Susan's door.

"Room service," I call out somewhat quietly in what I hope is a passible Caribbean accent.

I see the light in the peep-hole diminish and then, a second later, the door opens, barely.

One of Susan's pretty eyes peeks out the gap in the door.

"You must have the wrong room," she says curtly. "I'm waiting for someone else."

And the door swiftly closes.

One of the oldest jokes in the book. I'll bet Cleopatra played that game on Marc Antony. Like, probably... once. Maybe.

The light coming out of the peep-hole stays diminished. And only a few seconds pass before Susan opens the door again. She gives me a sheepish, little-girl grin.

"I'mmmm sorrrrry," she coos with exaggerated enthusiasm.

She holds the door open and I step through to set the coffees down on the long bureau to the left of the door.

I turn back as the door swings closed.

And Susan is -- again -- a fucking vision.

She, too, has spent a few minutes "getting herself presentable" as my late wife, Amanda, used to say. And, in Susan's case, "presentable" is a fucking understatement.

Susan is wearing the white crocheted swim cover-up that she wore while The Oasis was leaving port yesterday. And nothing else.

She's bare-footed. Bare-assed. Bare-breasted. And I'm barely able... no, I'm UN-able... to keep my jaw from dropping open as I take in this vision of Susan.

Susan gives me a delightfully wry little smile.

"What?" she coos softly, hands on her hips, as she wriggles her incredible body before me,

"... not enough??

"... Too much???"

And Susan stands there, awaiting my response.

For some reason, some sort of unusual power -- (well, unusual for me, anyway) -- rises up in me. I reset my jaw and drill my eyes into Susan's.

I command with a growl: "Come to me."

Susan's eyes close and a soft exhale runs through her throat and nose, like she's been struck by her own sexual lightning.

Then her eyes re-open and she slowly but determinedly takes the two or three steps to close the space between us.

The kiss that follows is the hottest kiss I've ever experienced in my life. At least so far.

Susan's arms wrap around my neck as our lips and mouths go into a full-bore attack of the other's. My arms wrap around Susan's waist and pull her whole body hard into mine.

Our hands roam over backs, arms, shoulders... through each other's hair... and then return to places they've just been.

It's like long-lost lovers reuniting after weeks... months... apart. Instead of two all-but strangers saying "hey" after only knowing each other for a few amazingly sexy hours.

The significance doesn't seem to be lost on either one of us.

The kiss breaks somewhat simultaneously and Susan and I pant into each other's faces, forehead-to-forehead, like we're both trying to figure out what the hell is going on here.

And then the kiss starts again. This time, we both want to move.

Susan literally leaps upward into my arms. I catch her legs with my forearms and pull her closely to my body. In this position, her kiss angle changes a little; she's in something of a dominant position and her tongue lets me know it.

Susan is a petite little thing, but I know I'm not going to hold her like this for long. And I don't want to.

Between the bed and the balcony is a long sofa that runs along the wall. The round coffee table that the champagne from last night sits on is in front of it.

While Susan assails my mouth with her tongue, I navigate with a little bit of clumsy to the sofa. It's only a few steps and I feel my knees hit the fabric.

I bend over and, sensing my intention, Susan increases her grip around her neck. Between the two of us, I'm able to lower Susan gently to the surface of the sofa.

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At the jazz club last night, Susan told me that she sometimes wants to be controlled by her lover.

For most of the twenty-nine years of my first marriage, my late wife, Amanda, was in control of my sex life.

Not so much in what we did (because there was scant variety in our sex; we almost always did the exact same thing), but when we would do it.

I could try to talk her into it. I could do more things around the house that I thought would get her into a different lane about it. I could whine about it. I could yell about it.

It all just reinforced how little power I had in the matter. Amanda was in control. Case closed.

All that to say, I haven't had a great deal of practice in being dominate during sex.

But somehow I get the feeling that there might be quite a few things, where sex with Susan is concerned, that I haven't had a lot of practice with.

Might as well dive in.

I'm standing above Susan as she lays on the sofa. I look directly in her eyes.

"Susan," I begin, "you look incredibly sexy in that swim cover. Especially since you're naked underneath it."

Susan matches my gaze but doesn't reply.

"Now," I continue softly but directly,

"... take it off."

Susan doesn't break my gaze.

After a long beat she adjusts her legs to push her butt up from the sofa while her hands gather the fabric from her thighs.

She pulls the cover-up above her ass and lowers herself back to the surface of the couch.

Then, still engaging my gaze, Susan sits up and pulls the garment up over her boobs and over her head.

She slips her arms out of the sleeves and casually drops the swim cover on the floor near her shoulders.

She lays back down on the sofa in her original position.

Her eyes have never left me.

While Susan is stripping, so am I.

My T-shirt also ends up on the floor, followed by my swim trunks.

Susan's eyes glance to my stiffening cock, then return to my stare.

I take a few seconds to survey Susan's incredible body in the morning light. She's naked. I'm naked. And another surge of power rumbles within me.

I lock my gaze to Susan's eyes, which are re-locked on mine. There is a delightful twinkle of expectation in hers, accented by the tiniest twitch of a smile on her lips.

The look tells me Susan doesn't hate this game. And she's ready to play it.

"Spread your legs," I command.

Susan's eyes stay locked on mine. And slowly -- verrrry slowly -- Susan spreads her legs as far as the sofa will allow.

Her left leg rests first against the back cushion of the sofa.

Her right leg continues to move outward and extend beyond the edge of the sofa. To show me more of her twat, Susan lowers her foot to rest on the floor.

Susan punctuates the move with a wicked little grin.

I step to the sofa and drop to my knees so my shoulders are in line with Susan's hips.

I turn my attention to Susan's mound, just above her clitoris. She has a tiny patch of short hair that has clearly been carefully groomed.

I trace the tips of my fingers over the hairs. Susan's legs actually twitch at the softness of my fingers' graze. I might even see the hairs stand up a little. I wonder if she's had another jolt of sexual lightning.

Next, I lower my face to get closer to Susan's womanhood. I take in a long inhale, not really for any particular effect on her, but just because I like the smell of an aroused partner.

Susan doesn't disappoint. She's musky. She's moist. She's as intoxicating this morning as she was last night.

My cock swells even more.

I raise my head to see that Susan's eyes are following my every move.

"I meant to tell you before," I whisper into Susan's eyes. "I think your pussy is beautiful."

Susan smiles down across her spectacular body at me.

"Well... thank you, I guess," she replies. Then:

"It's understandable you couldn't tell me. I kept you kind of busy down there."

I remember a sexual zinger Susan said to me last night, and I repeat it to her this morning.

"Just... wait," I whisper.

Susan's legs actually lurch with this lightning strike. Her eyes close and her head drops back to the surface of the sofa.

"Oh, fuck...." she murmurs. "Ohhhh, fuuuccckk...."

But I don't just want to eat Susan out again this morning. I want to fuck her.

I want to fuck her in a way I've never fucked anyone... ever before.

This new and unusual sense of power I've felt since meeting Susan, again, thrums within me. And I take advantage of it.

I put my left hand under Susan's right knee, the leg that's resting on the floor. And I push that knee upward towards the ceiling.

When Susan's knee reaches its apex my hand slides up her right calf to her right ankle and I pull her now-extended leg outward. This opens Susan's crotch to just about as wide as it can go. And that is where I put my mouth.

My first pass is a long, rough, rugged slather of Susan's whole vulva with my tongue. She reacts instantly:

"OH!!! Phil!!... jeezus!!"

Then, with the surprise behind her, "Mmmmmmmm...."

My mouth stays engaged and my tongue continues to slather Susan's outer and inner lips. I taste her juices immediately.

Susan's beautiful cunt has been percolating during the whole ramp up to this very minute... maybe since she dressed -- sort of -- for my return with the coffee.

Now, she's ready for more.

I pull my head away and, still holding Susan's leg aloft, I rise to my feet.

My left hand is holding Susan's ankle. With my right, I aim my raging cock toward her love tunnel. I adjust my knees a little to get the angle right, then I flex my hips to move my cock forward to Susan's waiting and wanting pussy.

With the initial push, Susan's love hole takes the head of my cock and a little more. A second push results in another inch inside her. With a third push, still another inch disappears.

Susan inhales quickly and loudly, followed by "Yess!! God!! OHHhhhhhh..."

I look into my lover's face and her eyes meet mine. They're wild and excited. Then Susan raises her head to see what she can of my cock burrowing into her love tunnel.

I keep pumping and more and more of my cock slides inside Susan's wanton pussy. Her eyes return to mine and half-roll backwards towards the ceiling.

"UURRmmmmm..." she moans.

I move Susan's elevated leg to my shoulder. With my left hand now free I position both hands to support my weight and I begin to push more forcefully into Susan's cunt.

With every stroke, Susan's pussy juice coats my cock. The tightness of her pussy becomes more apparent the slicker my cock becomes. A small ring of white grool appears around her inner lips gripping my throbbing member.

Susan's voice begins to mimic the timing of my thrusts.

"Ohhh... Mmmm... Yesss... Urmmm..."

Buried now inside Susan to the hilt of my cock, I stop and grind my pelvis into hers, rubbing against her clit.

"Oh fuck, Phil," Susan moans through panting breath. "You make me feel so...

"... I love how your cock muh... moves... in and out... of... me..."

I resume slowly pistoning into Susan's pussy. I open my eyes to see her boobs bouncing in rhythm to my thrusts into her. Her nipples are erect and a deep pink color.

Another couple of thrusts and Susan opens her eyes to smile at me. Then she gives a little laugh through her panting breaths and moans.

Using my arms for leverage, Susan pulls herself up toward me. She engages my mouth in a wild, almost rabid kiss.

"Mmfff... Mmfff... Oh, shit... Mmfff," Susan moans into the kiss.

I think we're both getting tired in this position. I pause my thrusting and retrieve Susan's right ankle from my shoulder. I allow her right leg to drop in front of me and down until it rests against her left leg. This twists Susan's hips to the left a little, while my cock is still lodged within her dripping love hole.

I put my right knee of the surface of the sofa, and resume my pumping into Susan's pussy.

The change in the position of Susan's legs does two things: 1) It tightens the entrance to her pussy, which feels great to me, and 2) It rotates the position of my pulsing meat pole within Susan's cunt by something shy of ninety degrees. Different nerves are getting different stimulation deep with Susan. And, as a result, she begins to react right away.

Susan's right hand flies onto the back of my left thigh.

"Oh, jeezus, Phil!!" she cries. Then: "Oooooohhhhhh.... Mmmmmmmm.... UUuurrrhhhmmmm..."

The change has put an immediate tingle deep in my groin. So I keep pumping.

Susan's cries resume mimicking the rhythm of my thrusts into her pussy. She turns her face into one of the couch pillows so she can muffle the rising volume of her voice.

"OHHhhhhh, don't... Just... Just... Keep... Yessss, right... UUuurrrrrrmmmmmmmm..."

My orgasm is coming, and it's not going to stop. And I don't want to stop it.

I give this amazing lover one more command.

"Susan," I growl. "Cum for me.

"Cum WITH me..."

I thrust two or three more times until my orgasm forces me to slam deep into Susan and stay there. At the same time Susan's orgasm takes control of her. Her right arm grips my thigh even tighter. Her left arm flies to the top of the sofa and grips the back of it, hard.

Her hips are twisted but the contraction of her legs cause her whole pelvic structure to rise up, then freeze, then let go again. Susan collapses back to the surface of the sofa and I feel her stomach and pussy muscles contracting in rhythm to the pulses of her orgasm.

She moans in a matching rhythm into the couch pillow.

I've collapsed down on top of Susan's lower body. It's an awkward position for both of us. My cock pretty quickly slips out of Susan's quivering quim and I skootch up the sofa to lay at Susan's right side.

She rearranges her legs and rolls into me so we're laying side-by-side and face-to-face.

We both catch our breath. It's a soft, quiet reverie for maybe even a minute.

Susan speaks first.

"Jesus," Susan whispers through still-panting breaths. "Where the goddam hell did you learn to fuck like that?

"I've never been fucked like THAT."

"Really?," I ask without thinking about it.

Susan pauses pragmatically and then chuckles: "Yeah. And I think I'd know.

"I think I told you," she continues, "... Alan wasn't very imaginative in the love-making department. And my revenge fucks after Alan divorced me... well, they were all just things I wanted. That one never crossed my mind."

Susan opens her eyes to see me looking into hers. She kisses me softly.

"I'm calling it the 'Fantastic Phil' position," she declares. "So when I want that feeling again, you'll know what I'm talking about.

"Because it was... fantastic. And because you did... boy did you ever..."

I'm puzzled. "Did I ever what??"

Susan looks at me with a delightful twinkle in her eyes.

"Phil," she whispers, "you filled me." Then:

"I know...

"Maybe I'll start calling you 'The Filler.'"

We both look at the other one until neither one of can hold it in. We both burst out laughing.

And then Susan kisses me again. For several... wonderful... minutes.

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Susan and I are lying together, naked, on the sofa. I have a pillow under my head and Susan is cuddled on me, her head resting on my chest.

My eyes go to the two cups of coffee and the pastries I brought to Susan's room about an hour ago.

"That coffee's probably cold," I say quietly as I softly stroke Susan's back.

Susan replies, "We can go up to Windjammer and get more. I think I'd like some breakfast, too."

She gives me a little kiss and climbs off the sofa.

"Is there a dress code for this place?" I ask as I move to collect my swim suit and T-shirt.

"You can wear your swimsuit," Susan replies. "I'm wearing mine."

Then she spins into the bathroom, giving me a dazzling smile as she disappears.

My T-shirt goes on first. Then I feel my cell phone in a pocket of my swim trunks.

Retrieving it, I notice a message from Paige, my oldest girl:

["Hi, Daddy!,"] she texts, ["Hope you're having a lot of fun!"]

Then, ["Have you met anyone special??"] And there are two alternating wink and heart emojis.

The message came in this morning, maybe when I was showering. But the send time shows Paige sent it late last night.

I dunno. Whatever.

I text back: ["Better than I deserve."] I follow that with ["Better than I deserve."].

I'll leave it up to Paige's wonderment whether I answered one question or two.

Susan comes out of the bathroom wearing the same coral swimsuit she had on at Sail-Away yesterday afternoon. She locates the crocheted swim cover on the floor and slips in over her head, then pulls it down over her peachy ass.

She gives me a snarky grin.

She looks spectacular. Still, I comment back with "I liked it better earlier."

"Come on, you," Susan commands as she stretches her right hand out to me. I take it and we step through her stateroom doorway.

The Windjammer is on Deck 16 of the ship. It's the same deck as the swimming pools and the Solarium area where Susan and I met yesterday afternoon.

Of the many eating places on the Oasis of the Seas, the Windjammer is among the most casual dining experiences available. At the same time, there is a plethora of food offerings. Many international guests with regional diets and tastes say they find better ethnic food -- Indian or Thai, for instance -- at Windjammer than they find anywhere else on the ship.

Compound that with the fact that it's late morning on an at-sea day, and this joint is jumping.

Susan locates a table for two being vacated by an elderly couple and she scoots over to claim it.

"Bloody Mary?" I call after her. She answers with a thumbs-up sign. She doesn't look back at me.

As I head to an outside bar to fetch the drinks, I make my way past some of the food offerings. An idea hatches in my head.

Returning with the drinks, I stop by various stations at the buffet and add bacon, olives, celery, and other assorted frou-frou to the drinks. It's not a professional presentation by any means, but way better than what the bartender gave me.

I bring the drinks to the table Susan is sitting at.

"Look at what you did!!," Susan exclaims. "How clever! Thank you!" She reaches her face to mine and gives me a brief kiss. "Why don't you start with the buffet," Susan suggests. "I'll go after you get done."

I go to fill my plate. Susan sips her drink as she looks around the room. It's actually an interesting opportunity to observe Susan from a distance.

Everyone -- and it seems to be EVERYone -- is noticing this beautiful woman sitting all by herself.

Men of all ages walk by Susan and nine out of ten of them do a double-take for another look... just like I did in the check-in line. One guy even loops around the drink station and makes a return pass from the opposite direction.

Susan waves at elderly women. She gives a hand tap and a sit-down hug to a woman who compliments her outfit. She twiddles her fingers and gives a scrunchy-faced smile to a toddler who, also, can't stop looking at her.

It's my turn to move along the buffet line. I select my usual: scrambled eggs, a strip or three of bacon, and pan-fried potatoes.

As I finish and move to the next station, I notice that Susan is having a happy and animated conversation with a somewhat stocky, middle-aged black guy.

The next station is fruits and I spoon a little cantaloupe and honeydew. There's also fresh pineapple and I select a few bites of that.

I move back toward the table as the black guy walks away from Susan with a laugh.

I set my plate across from Susan and remark: "You never meet a stranger, do you?"

Susan pats my hand as she stands from the table. "He's a nice fella," she says as she turns away toward the buffet. My eyes drop to Susan's amazing ass as she saunters away and my cock twitches its approval.

The next thing I know, a small gaggle of Oasis of the Seas crew members -- all female -- are peeling away from the coffee bar, cups in hand. One of them is Ellie, the gorgeous little Australian girl who essentially played match-maker between Susan and me on embarkation day.

Our eyes meet just as I call out "Hey, Ellie!"

"Mister Phil!," Ellie exclaims as she curves away from her colleagues. She comes to my place at the table as I'm standing to greet her. We share a quick hug.

"G'mornin!... G'Day!!" Ellie says in her delightful Aussie accent as the hug breaks. "Havin' yourself some breakfast, yeah?"

"I am," I reply. "And I'm glad to see you because I want to tell you that..."

And at this exact moment Susan arrives at the table with her plate from the buffet.

"Why hello, Ellie," Susan says as she breaks into the conversation.

Ellie is caught off guard and then recovers nicely.

"Ah!," Ellie replies, "G'Day Ms. Bishop. So nice to see you again."

Susan sets her plate on the table and takes her seat. She places her napkin in her lap and then looks up at Ellie.

"So... Ellie," Susan begins with a tiny scold in her voice, "... did you hear from my daughters about me being on this cruise?"

Ellie's countenance changes. Her natural brightness dims a couple of notches.

"Ms. Bishop, I love, love, love your girls," Ellie replies. "We became such friends when they sailed with us."

I can tell that Ellie is twisting up inside concerning Susan's question. I'm replaying in my mind the interaction I had with Ellie when she said "I'm not really supposed to do this...". Perhaps the line Ellie crossed is more serious than I think it is.

Ellie continues, carefully: "I... uhh... did hear. From both of them. They wanted me to know... you were... um... sailing with us... this week."

Susan doesn't let Ellie struggle very long. She looks up at me.

"Well," Susan says, looking at me but speaking to Ellie, "your instincts were excellent."

Susan returns her eyes to Ellie. She offers a warm smile.

"I'm glad for the way it's turning out. And you should be, too.

"I don't think I'd feel the same way, if things had gone... differently."

Ellie can't hide her relief. Susan compounds her forgiveness by standing and giving Ellie a brief hug.

"I've got to run," Ellie says to Susan and me as the hug breaks. "Good to see you both!"

And Ellie peels off in the direction of her colleagues. She checks her watch quickly and then scurries even faster toward the exit to the deck.

Susan returns to her seat and places the napkin back in her lap.

"That's I side of you I haven't seen yet," I say softly.

Susan smiles at me across our plates. "She broke a rule," Susan says pointedly. "Kind of a big one. A guest's privacy isn't something the crew is supposed to play around with.

"Well," I reply, "I can't say that I'm not delighted that she... did."

Susan smiles and puts a bite of egg on her fork. She looks up at me and says "And I feel the same."

We finish our breakfast making small talk about Susan's home in Louisville, my home in Charleston, other trips we've taken, and so on.

"So what do we do now?" I ask my beautiful table-mate.

Susan stretches a long stretch and at the end looks at me.

"Let's go to the Solarium," she suggests.

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If you've never been on a cruise ship, think of an all-inclusive resort somewhere; they're quite similar.

Virtually everything you need is available, or can be made available, sometimes at a price, but often not.

Susan and I approach the entry to the Solarium and we pass a towel station manned by a uniformed crew member. There are dozens and dozens of towels stacked in a rolling rack to the attendant's right.

"Three for me, please," Susan says while showing her Sea Pass card to the attendant. And, without hesitation, three sky-blue towels are handed to Susan.

"The same," I declare, also showing my Sea Pass card.

And we make our way into the Solarium.

As I described before, this area is intended for guests over eighteen and it's a collaboration of deck chairs, hot tubs, and shallow pools, all surrounded by glass panels that look out into the ocean.

Peaceful, spa-like music plays continually. There's also a bar and bistro so one could spend all day here if one wanted.

Susan selects two lounges that are a little out of the bustle of activity. We set our towels down and Susan declares, "You know what I'd like? A piña colada. I haven't had one yet on this trip."

She hands me her Sea Pass card. "You'll need this to order two drinks at once," she says.

It only takes a minute to get the bartender's attention and he expertly blends the ice and the other ingredients for the two cocktails. I sip mine on the way back to the lounges, and it tastes fantastic.

"Here you are, my lady," I announce to Susan with exaggerated pretentiousness as I present her drink to her.

"Ooooh, thank you, good sir!" Susan replies with an equal amount of "faux."

Unlike the outdoor pool decks on this ship, the Solarium is a much more relaxing place. Susan and I are able to quite comfortably visit and enjoy each other's company.

It doesn't hurt that Susan is absolutely gorgeous in her one-piece swim suit. When we met for Sail Away and she was in that outfit, the coverup didn't allow all of her curves to be as apparent as they are now. And, of course, I've already seen -- and fucked -- her fantastic body completely naked. Still, she radiates a sexy, smokey confidence that is totally alluring.

We chat, we laugh. We hold hands. When I get up, or when Susan does, there's a brief and soft kiss to send the other on their way.

After an hour or so, Susan declares that she'd like to try out one of the Jacuzzis that are scattered about the Solarium.

We each take a towel and find one that's lightly attended.

The water is warm and bubbly and quite relaxing.

We're only there for a few minutes when a black guy with a smoking-hot piece of arm-candy approaches and steps into the jacuzzi with us. They sit on the opposite side, facing Susan and me.

I recognize the guy from breakfast. He was having the conversation with Susan while I was filling my plate.

He performs an amazingly bad surprise act as he looks across at Susan and says "Oh, hey!... You're... You're... Susan!

"I saw you at the Windjammer!!"

"And you're Jeremy," Susan says warmly, and a little warily. "This is my friend, Phil."

"Whassup, Phil?" Jeremy responds. Then: "This is my girl, Tina"

Tina, behind her too-big sunglasses, offers a demure "Hello."

I thought Jeremy was stocky in the restaurant. Now, without his shirt on, he looks like a body builder. He is also heavily tatted on both biceps and across his chest.

Tina, for her part, is similarly excessive. She has long, straight, black hair that spills over her shoulders. Both of her upper arms, from shoulders to elbows, are a kaleidoscope of colorful tattoos. And then there are her massive breasts, squeezed into a too-tight bikini top. Her overly-full lips are pursed in something of a perpetual pout... and not a cute one like Susan showed me earlier.

Tina turns to Jeremy.

"Jare-Jare -- baby --" she coos in a Betty Boop kind of voice, "would you go get me one of those pineappley drinks that I like so much?"

Even behind his sunglasses, Jeremy's eyes betray exasperation. Then he shrugs with a "whaddya gonna do" posture and stands to leave the jacuzzi.

"Yes, dear," Jeremy mutters as he grabs his towel and heads for the bar.

Tina suddenly becomes more animated.

"Ever since we got on this ship," Tina says to both Susan and me, "I feel like I'm craving pineapple things, you know?

"Pineapple drinks, pineapple cake, pineapple, pineapple, pineapple, you know??"

Tina forces a not-so-little laugh over something that really doesn't call for one. Susan and I give her an obligatory smile but don't really have an answer.

There's sort of an awkward silence. Tina breaks it with a sweep of her arm over the surface of the water.

"Anyway..." Tina sort of coos.

Jeremy's voice booms down from the elevated bar.

"Tee!..." he calls. "Yo, TINA!!

"Come up here and tell this guy what you want!!"

Tina looks over at Susan and me and, with her own shrug, somehow pulls her massive chest out of the water. Then she pulls on her also too-small bikini bottoms to cover her bubbly ass as much as possible.

"Sorrrry..." Tina says quietly as she grabs her towel and steps away.

I have my left arm around Susan's shoulder. I turn to her and ask:

"What the fuck??"

Susan tips her head to me and lowers her voice.

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure they're swingers.

"They want to swap partners with us. He pretty much came out and said that to me at breakfast."

I'm flummoxed. I mean, I know what wife-swapping and all that stuff is about, but I've always thought that happened between friends, or at least acquaintances. But we've just met these people!

I express that to Susan.

"Sometimes that doesn't even matter," Susan says to me quietly. "They just want to have sex with us.

"She wants you to fuck her and she wants to watch while he fucks me."

Susan continues. "All that Tina-talk about pineapples?? Big give-away.

"The pineapple is sort of 'the symbol' for many swingers." Susan uses her fingers as air quotes to amplify her words.

"Most people are more subtle about it. They might put a pineapple magnet on their stateroom door, although lots of cruise lines are taking them down now without asking. More and more people are figuring out that it's a sign.

"Some people play tricks on their friends. They'll steal someone else's magnet and put it on their friends' door. Then people like Jeremy and Tina show up, drunk, at two o'clock in the morning, expecting some action."

"That probably doesn't end well," I interject.

Susan laughs. "No... probably not."

We're quiet for about half a minute.

"Is that something you're interested in?" I ask Susan.

She looks at me with a soft and pleasant sincerity.

"Swapping?" she asks. "Sharing you with some bimbo we just met?"

I don't answer.

Susan rises up out of the pool, turns and puts one of her feet on the other side of my hip to straddle my lap. Then she lowers herself down to sit on my legs.

"Not for a minute," Susan replies, lightly grinding her groin into mine. "Not for one... fucking... minute."

And Susan smothers me is a smoldering kiss. My cock immediately blossoms and I'm pretty sure Susan can feel it.

"Then let's not wait for them to come back," I declare as the kiss breaks. I slip my arms under Susan's ass and stand up in the jacuzzi.

Susan giggles as I pivot in a one-eighty and set her feet gently on the pool deck. She takes my hand and we exit the jacuzzi, grabbing our towels from the deck chairs as we exit the Solarium.

⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘

The specialty restaurants on Oasis of the Seas are fantastic. Every now and then, it pays to have dinner in the Main Dining Room. Tonight is one of those nights; it's Steak and Lobster night.

Main-room dining on most cruise ships is almost always an all-you-can-eat affair. Diners can order multiple appetizers, entrees, or desserts and no one bats an eye.

This practice became a bit problematic on this particular night, and a few years ago, Royal Caribbean put a limit on how many lobsters one guest can order.

In a traditional dining package on a cruise ship, you're at an assigned time and an assigned table every night. Same fellow diners, same wait staff.

Susan signed up for "My Time Dining," which lets us come in pretty much whenever, and take whatever table is available. Tonight, we're lucky to snag a table for two looking out one of the port-hole windows at the edge of the massive dining room.

Susan and I talk and laugh throughout dinner. The steak is tasty and the lobster is delicious.

As we're waiting for dessert, Susan announces that she wants to ask me another one of her "direct questions."

Susan grasps my right hand with her left and looks deep into my eyes.: "Phil," she says quietly, "we've been together almost every moment since we've gotten on this ship.

"Aren't you tired of me yet?"

Like many of Susan's questions, it seems to come out of nowhere. There's no segue from anything either of us has talked about prior.

I pause a few long seconds before I deliver my answer. Then I cover Susan's hand with my left one.

"Am I tired of you?" I repeat the question.

"Kind of like I'm tired of... breathing," I reply. "Kind of like I'm tired of feeling my own heart beat.

"Kind of like I'm tired of... the sun... rising in the east."

Susan's eyes don't leave mine. There might be a slight glimmer of a tear at the bottom of her right one.

"All of those things..." Susan begins...

"... they're all things that... that most people think... you can't live without."

I wait another few long seconds before I reply:

"Precisely."

Susan's eyes close and she takes in a long breath. The tear rolls out of her right eye and down her cheek.

She opens her eyes and looks into mine. "That's quite the answer," Susan says softly.

"And I mean every word of it," I reply.

I continue softly. "Susan," I begin, "for weeks and weeks before this trip started, I didn't know how the hell I was going to have the nerve to get on this cruise ship.

"Now I don't know how the hell I'm going to get off of it."

Susan's replies with a soft sigh. Her free hand reaches up to wipe the tear away.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Susan says with a little laugh as she reaches for her napkin.

"Yeah... maybe not," I reply softly.

"But you said it yourself last night," I continue. "Let's just be friends.

"Maybe we can figure out the rest of it... over the next couple of days."

Susan repeats her little laugh as the waiter appears with our desserts. We break our hands loose from each other and get rearranged for her berries and cream and my cheesecake.

The dessert breaks the mood and Susan and I continue to enjoy chatting, beginning with how delicious the desserts are. We each share a bite of our selections with the other across the table. Soon, our table server comes to clear our plates away.

"So what's next for tonight?" I ask my beautiful table partner.

"I was thinking," Susan sort of sing-songs back to me, "... about going to the Karaoke bar."

I meet Susan's suggestion with something of a blank stare.

"Just to listen, or...? I query.

"Sure, we can listen," Susan replies with a chirp in her voice, "or maybe join in. It'll be fun."

I'm not immediately on board with this idea.

"Look Susan," I begin, "I know I told you at some point yesterday that I used to sing in the choir at church. But that was years ago when the girls were little and Amanda was looking for something -- that she liked -- that we could do together.

"Amanda had a beautiful singing voice. Mine, not so much."

Susan isn't buying it. "Oh, come on, Phil," she scolds me. "Everybody can sing SOMEthing."

Then she adjusts her angle with a question:

"What kind of music are you listening to now?... when you're in the car or working in the yard?"

"Probably, mostly, classic rock," I answer, "or the new country stuff. Lainey Wilson, Jelly Roll, Thomas Rhett, Megan Moroney."

"What do you like about the new country stuff?" Susan asks.

"I like that it's real," I reply, "... somewhat wholesome, I guess. I like the way they write their lyrics. I like that I can understand their lyrics."

"And do you sing along with the radio?" Susan asks.

I admit that I do.

"Then Karaoke... it's almost the same thing," Susan declares.

I turn my eyes back to Susan to see her staring deeply into mine. It's a look I haven't seen before. Her eyes are sexy... and smokey.

Susan asks quietly in a sultry voice: "What if I asked you to sing something... for me?"

Susan doesn't know it (or does she?... how could she??) but a request, delivered in that manner, is kind of my kryptonite. Once my two girls figured that out (minus the sexy and smokey and sultry part), they could count on me to get them whatever they wanted.

I realize it's no use.

I stand up from the table and extend my hand toward Susan. "Come on," I growl. "Where is this place?"

⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘

The venue on The Oasis is called Spotlight Karaoke. It's actually right on the Deck Five Promenade; Susan and I walk out the door to the main dining hall and head straight into the promenade, down along the walk, past shops and other places.

I've always thought Karaoke bars would tucked away around a corner somewhere; primarily, I've thought, to shield other people from the ghastly singing emanating from within.

Not so with this place. It's right on the main promenade, and there are even video monitors so one could stand outside and watch the singers perform.

Susan doesn't want to stand outside, though. She makes a bee-line for the entrance, with me in tow.

The place is a little crowded, but Susan quickly finds us two seats at the bar. They're separated by a burly gentleman who willingly moves to an open seat at Susan's quiet request.

Fortunately, the last performer has just ended their song. The DJ announces that he's taking a short break.

"Oh, my gosh!" Susan proclaims suddenly. She slaps her Sea Pass next to my hands on the bar and says: "Phil, I'll be right back. Order me an Old Fashioned!" And she's off.

I watch as Susan rushes toward the edge of the stage where the DJ's booth is. The man sees her coming and clearly recognizes her. They give each other a quick hug, then stand apart holding both hands, then engage in another quick hug.

Susan clearly knows this guy.

"What can I getcha?" a voice suddenly comes into my right ear. It's the bartender wanting to take my order.

I turn to face him and hand him both Sea Pass cards. "Two Old Fashioneds, please. Buffalo Trace if you have it."

When I turn back to check on Susan she's just finishing an animated conversation with the DJ. Susan nods and waves with a beaming smile, then turns back to see me watching her.

She literally runs back to her place at the bar, she's so excited.

"This is so great!!" Susan exclaims. "The DJ is my friend, Jimmy. Phil, he is SO FUN!!!" Susan takes a quick gulp of her cocktail.

"He was on a cruise I took last year on another ship. I mean it... he is SO FUN!!!

"Usually at these things you put your name on a list and wait and wait for your time to sing," Susan says animatedly. "Jimmy said he'd move us up to the top, right after this break."

I laugh at my beautiful, excited, lover, mainly to cover up a slight panic rising up in me.

"Us," I repeat. "We're BOTH going to sing." It's a statement and not a question.

"Mm-hmmm," Susan answers quickly, nodding her head while she searches for something in her purse.

"Arrrrr...." I begin slowly, trying not to sound like a pirate "... are you going to tell me what the song is?"

Susan has fished her lip gloss out of her purse and is rapidly applying it.

"Oh, I know you've heard it," she responds briskly. "It's new... it's all over the radio.

"It's Mackenzie Carpenter with that group... Midland?"

I think I've heard the song a few times and I say that to Susan.

Just then, the DJ's voice breaks out over the crowd.

"Y'all, I am excited to tell you this," Jimmy announces over the PA system. "I met a lady on a cruise last year -- another ship -- and I'm delighted that she's here with us tonight. I think you will be, too!

"Everybody!!... Give a warm Oasis of the Seas -- Spotlight Karaoke welcome to... Susan... and her friend, Phil!!"

And, just like that, we're ON. Susan bounds off her bar stool and grabs my hand, and we move toward Jimmy the DJ. There's a smattering of golf claps and "wooooo's" coming from the folks seated to listen.

As we approach Jimmy, he has two microphones in one hand, and two western-style hats in the other. Susan takes one of each and Jimmy hands the others to me. Susan's goes on her head smoothly. Mine is a bit awkward.

And then the music starts.

Readers, if you've never attempted Karaoke, it's not impossible. The words to the song are scrolled onto a screen right in your line of sight. Depending on the system, there's a highlighted box that moves from word to word in the rhythm of the original song, almost like the old bouncing-ball cartoons from childhood.

If you're at all familiar with the song you're singing it's entirely possible to get through the verses and the chorus without too much trouble.

But with this song, the male singer starts first. And I muff the timing a little with the first line.

Me: ♫ "We been drinking, but we ain't drunk yet ♫

♫ "(Just killed a) karaoke Kenny and Dolly duet" ♫

Susan: ♫ "You wanna tip the band to play one more ♫

♫ "And take me out on that sawdust floor" ♫

Like in the recording, Susan takes the melody on the chorus, and I sing a harmony line above it, in my range.

Both of us: ♫ "I wish, I wish, I wish you would ♫

♫ "Keep leanin' in and looking good ♫

♫ "I can see it on your lips ♫

♫ "This tequila wants a kiss ♫

♫ "I wish, I wish, I wish you would." ♫

And, y'all... we don't sound bad. Susan's singing voice is a smokey, high alto and it blends well with my natural tenor/baritone range. I glance off the monitor to see the crowd and heads are popping up to look at the stage.

I decide to play a little bit with my singing partner. In the interim between chorus and verse I step up to Susan and push her hat back a little on her head. Then, the second verse begins:

Me: ♫ "I took your cowboy hat and tipped it back ♫

♫ "(Said), 'Girl, where'd you get a smile like that?'" ♫

Susan giggles a little at my performance. Then she delivers her answer:

Susan: ♫ "Sure as those neon stars up above ♫

♫ "You're 'bout to fool around and fall in love." ♫

What happens next is actually purely natural. This chorus is exactly the same as the last one. So Susan and I break our attention away from the monitors and actually sing to each other... looking at each other.

Both of us: ♫ "And I wish, I wish, I wish you would ♫

♫ "Keep leaning in and looking good ♫

♫ "I can see it on your lips ♫

♫ "This tequila wants a kiss ♫

♫ "I wish, I wish, I wish you would." ♫

I glance out to the audience and it seems we now have their full attention. I even see people from the Promenade gathering at the entrances to look inside at the stage.

Many songs -- but not all of them -- have a section called a "bridge" to break up the verse-chorus-verse-chorus pattern. I'm not an expert in those things, but this seems to fit the bill.

Both of us: ♫ "It's getting close to closing time ♫

♫ "And you know, baby, I can't read your mind ♫

♫ "So if you wanna take me home ♫

♫ "I'll say it for you so you know ♫

♫ "I wish, I wish, I wish you would." ♫

Whether it's a bridge or not, this actually brings applause and a some more boisterous "woooos" from the audience.

In the recording of this song, the two singers repeat a verse without words. A quick glance at the monitor confirms that.

I step to Susan and wrap my left arm around her waist. She answers with her left arm on my right shoulder. We dance to the rhythm of the music, looking into each other's eyes, singing into the mics held in our right hands.

Both of us ♫ "Ooh

♫ "Ooh

♫ "Ooh

Me: ♫ "I wish," Susan: ♫ "I wish"

Me ♫ "I wish," Susan ♫ "I wish"

Both of us: ♫ "I wish you would."

In the musical space between this and what's next, the audience reacts. There's more applause, the "wooos" become cheers. People like what they're hearing. Jimmy is at his station, pumping his arms upward in time with the music.

There's a strange surge that rises up in me. It's related to Susan, but it's not because of Susan. It's the music, and the way this song is resonating with the two of us singing it, and the audience hearing it. It's a strange corollary, but it is a similar feeling to when Susan creates a sexual lightning strike with something she does or says.

Whatever, it's time to sing through the last chorus of the song. Susan and I again turn and sing to each other:

♫ "And I wish, I wish, I wish you would, ♫

♫ "Keep leaning in and looking good, ♫

♫ "I can see it on your lips, ♫

♫ "This tequila wants a kiss, ♫

♫ "I wish, I wish, I wish you would." ♫

(Mackenzie Carpenter, ft. Midland - © 2025 Big Machine Label Group, LLC)

The music ends and the crowd gives us their enthusiastic applause. Susan and I join hands, take a quick bow, then turn to Jimmy to hand over the hats and the microphones. Our seats remain open at the bar because we left our drinks there and the bartender shooed away anyone trying to take them.

"Whoo!" Susan exclaims as we get back to the bar stools. "That was fun!"

"That WAS fun," I reply. "Better than I expected.

"Thank you for making me step out of my comfort zone." And I give Susan a quick kiss on her left cheek.

Suddenly, there's a woman standing in front of both of us. She appears to be in her mid-forties, and she's dressed in slightly frumpy casual resort wear. She looks at Susan and asks:

"Are you Susan Bishop?"

Susan's natural smile sort of freezes on her face as she turns to look at the woman.

"I am," Susan declares. "And... you are??"

The woman laughs softly and then answers, "Oh... you don't know me. My name is Kristen Jennings." The woman extends her hand and Susan shakes it gingerly, maybe a little reluctantly. "You were the guest artist at a church camp I went to when I was in middle school. I bought your album and played it all the time."

Susan releases the woman's hand with a little laugh. "Well, you'd have to... it was the only one that got released."

The woman plows on. "You were such an inspiration to me! I started singing your songs at church and in my youth group. People even said I sort of sounded like you!"

Susan is visibly getting a little uncomfortable. But the Kristen woman doesn't seem to notice.

"You must be from Eastern Kentucky?" Susan asks.

"My grandma lived there," Kristen replies. "I would spend my summers with her and my folks would ship me off to church camp to give Grandma a break. I was a bit of a mess back then."

Susan smiles at Kristen. "Weren't we all..." Susan says with the tiniest hint of dismissal. She takes a sip of her bourbon.

Kristen glances at Susan's drink and for a heartbeat I'm afraid this stranger is going to wonder out loud why this former Christian singer is drinking a cocktail. But Kristen gets the hint.

"Anyway," Kristen gushes through a little laugh. "I just wanted to say 'hi.' And thank you!!"

"Nice to meet you," Susan says quietly with a soft but genuine smile. And Kristen exits a little awkwardly.

Susan takes another sip of her drink and looks at me out of the side of her eye.

"You have a fan club," I tease softly.

Susan knows she has to tell me the story. She turns slightly to face me and, after a sigh, begins.

"Out of college I joined a band," she says quietly. "We toured around for a few months and I hated it.

"Then, out of the blue, this man contacted me. He'd heard me sing at one of our shows and he was looking for a female lead for a Christian music project he wanted to pitch to Dove Records. Ever heard of them?"

I haven't and I say so.

"They were based out of the UK in the seventies," Susan replies. "I was doing praise music for churches before praise music was cool. Before it was a thing.

"So, anyway, to get name recognition and to work on material I was packaged as a Visiting Artist," she makes air quotes, "... and sent to some of the pricier church camps in the Appalachians. I would perform a show or two at nights during the week and then teach a basic music theory seminar once or twice during the days."

"That sounds... interesting," I comment after swallowing a sip of my cocktail.

"It was okay," Susan replies softly. "It didn't last very long.

"I thought the guy was going to take me to Nashville or somewhere and get a recording contract." Susan looks up at me and gives me a weak smile.

"Turns out all he took was my virginity."

I can't hide my shock. Fortunately, I'm able to hold my tongue.

Susan sips her cocktail and looks at me. "It was... consensual," she says quietly, "... it wasn't rape. But it still happened.

"And I suddenly realized the hypocrisy that pretty much makes up the entire music business.

"So I went back to a community college and became a paralegal. Then I worked my way into one of the biggest law firms in Louisville. That's where I met Alan."

"I don't think you've told me what your ex-husband did for a living," I say softly. "He was an attorney?"

"Mmmm," Susan says as she swallows another sip. "He specialized in entertainment law. He helped me sort of get even with the bastards who were taking advantage of young artists and screwing them over."

Susan gives me a wry smile. "Not literally. At least, not always... literally."

"Did you keep singing?" I ask quietly.

"I did some community theater here and there," Susan replies. "I never could convince myself to feel comfortable stepping back into a church."

"I think I can understand that," I say softly and sip from my drink. "And I think I can now understand a little more about your... privacy."

Susan gives me a look of surprise, then recognition, then appreciation.

"Yes," she says softly. "That, too..."

Suddenly Jimmy's voice rings out over the PA, ready to announce another performer.

Susan fishes a couple of dollars out of her purse and pushes them to the far edge of the bar counter.

"Let's get out of here," Susan says as she collects her drink and stands up from the bar stool.

We're walking back to our staterooms. Susan is holding tightly to my arm as we transit through the Central Park promenade.

Susan drops her head onto my shoulder. "Can I see you in my room in a few minutes?" she whispers softly.

"I'd like that," I reply. "I'd like to freshen up a bit first."

We take a few more steps and Susan suggests: "After you do that, why don't you bring your freshen-up stuff over to my place?"

"That way you'll have it in the morning."

Sexual lightning strikes, and my cock twitches... or actually, leaps.

⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘•⫘

Susan and I get off the elevator and move down the hallway toward our room. We arrive at my stateroom first. Without ceremony, Susan peels her arm from mine and continues the short distance past the bulkhead to her stateroom door.

I stand at my door watching Susan open hers. She gives me a soft smile and steps through her doorway.

I step into my stateroom's bathroom and quickly brush my teeth. Then I spritz on a refresh of my cologne.

I gather up my dop kit and collect a pair of gym shorts and a fresh T-shirt, along with my phone and my Sea Pass card.

I step through my stateroom doorway and turn to the right towards Susan's stateroom. I see right away that she has the security hasp blocking the door's closure. She won't have to open the door herself to let me in.

There's a stiff breeze pushing against the door as I open it. Susan has her balcony door open and the in-rushing air is causing the resistance.

With more than just a little effort, I step through the door and release the hasp from across the door jamb, The door closes with more force than usual behind me.

The room is nearly dark except for soft LED lights illuminating the bed. I set my dop kit and clothes on the counter near the TV.

Susan is standing about half way inside the stateroom from the open balcony door. She is backlit against the moonlight coming from outside. I can tell she's wearing a floor-length flowing, silky/lacy gown, because it's billowing into the room. Below her waist, the gown is wrapping softly around her legs.

Susan is facing me. She softly steps her left foot sideways and so the gown now reveals her entire lower torso in the moonlight. She's wearing the gown, and not much else.

And my cock twitches in recognition.

Susan raises her arms toward me, calling me closer to her. I'm not an idiot, and I take the four or so steps directly into Susan's waiting arms. My arms go around her waist, and I pull her body into mine as she envelopes me in a smoldering kiss.

Readers, if I haven't chronicled previously the incredible quality of Susan's kisses, let me do it now. Her soft, full lips are like warm, moist pillows against mine. Her soft, probing tongue snakes delicately into my mouth and dances slowly, oh so slowly, with my tongue. It's not a forceful, grinding kiss but it has an intensity, a determination, that's hard to describe... or control.

The kiss lasts for several wonderful seconds, but it's just a prelude. And Susan narrates that prelude with this:

"Phil, take your time with me tonight," Susan purrs after the kiss breaks. She kisses me softly again.

"I want this to last," another kiss, "... and last." And yet another kiss.

That kiss breaks, and Susan's voice whisper-roars into my ear.

"And then when we make love," and she moans softly before finishing, "... fuck me... re-a-llly slowly."

And then Susan's moist, hot, pulsating mouth returns to mine for another pas de deux with my tongue.

My cock is fully erect inside my pants.

As this kiss breaks, Susan begins a soft move toward the bed. She has my right hand softly in her left one, then lets it go as she reaches the edge of the bed. She cocks her left leg onto the top of the mattress, then skootches herself over to just past the center line of the bed.

She doesn't lay back yet. She's sitting with one leg extended and the other tucked against the first at an angle. Her arms are supporting her from just behind her hips.

In the brighter light over the bed, I can see more of Susan's attire. Her gown is a soft semi-transparent chiffon material, off-white in color.

She has on a super-thin bra and a super-thin thong, both in a color that perfectly matches the gown. Susan's nipples are pushing softly against the nearly-transparent fabric of her bra.

I suddenly realize I have too many clothes on. I quickly unbutton my shirt, slip it off, and toss it aside.

I dispatch my pants in a similar manner. Susan still has underwear on beneath her gown; I leave my briefs on, although there's no mistaking my erection raging beneath them.

Susan wants this encounter to go slow. So I begin my approach with a slow, lingering crawl across the bed toward the place where Susan is sitting on the bed. As I get close to her, Susan -- equally slowly -- lowers herself back onto the surface of the bed.

I continue to move slowly over Susan until my face is hovering over hers. Susan slowly closes her eyes in anticipation of my kiss. And still, I hold. Susan takes a deep breath and her lips part ever so gently. And still, I hold.

Just about the time I think her eyes are going to reopen, I lower my lips to hers. And our kiss begins.

Prior to our fuck this morning, I described a kiss from Susan that was the most intense I think I've ever had in my life. That kiss now becomes the standard that I want to meet, and maybe beat.

But slowly.

We kiss. And it's... fire. It's more than fire. It's a maelstrom without the water. The room, the lighting, the bed, the aroma, Susan's lingerie. I feel like I'm literally surrounded by... there's no other way to describe it... by sex itself.

My hands come up to grip the sides of Susan's face. My mouth roils and explores all over hers. My lips suckle and tease first her upper lip, then her lower lip. My teeth lightly bite Susan's lower lip, then her chin.

Susan makes soft moans and purrs while I assail her mouth. "Mmmmmm... mmmohhhh... mmmmm..."

And then I bring my tongue to the party.

Probing, running along the insides of Susan's cheeks... across her teeth. Wrestling with her tongue, which I quickly pull inside my mouth and suckle like I'm trying to swallow it whole.

My hands have now moved to the small of Susan's back and I pull her groin tightly against mine.

"Mmmmffff!" she moans softly. Then her tongue joins mine in its own manic dance.

My right hand moves to capture and squeeze Susan's left butt cheek, and I pull her pelvis more fully into mine.

Susan feels trapped, and I feel her kiss intensify.

Susan's moans intensify as well and she actually breaks the kiss to catch a breath.

"Ohhhh... shit..." she gasps. "Ohhhmmm... jesus..."

Susan seems to melt into my kiss.

Our fuck this morning was an exercise is me asserting dominance over Susan... making her do what I wanted.

This encounter is similar but different. Susan is willingly allowing herself to make a deeper physical connection through our sex. It's a subtle but astonishingly powerful progression in our physical relationship.

Still, Susan's breath is now racing.

I shift to look into Susan's beautiful eyes. They're soft. They're inviting. There's this radiant, softly rippling... energy... that's deep within them but also emitting softly from them, and directly into mine. And then they droop gently closed as I move closer to kiss her deeply.

It's a passionate kiss. But it's soft. Languorous.

And it's a prelude to what's coming next.

My kiss moves from Susan's mouth, across her jaw, and to her neck, right below her right ear. Her back arches at the attention that sensitive spot receives.

Then the kiss moves across Susan's clavicle and down across her left breast. I can't resist pausing at her erect nipple and nibbling it softly through her bra, and her back arches slightly again.

But I have another destination. And Susan knows it. She's welcoming it, even.

My kisses move across Susan's stomach and down to the marvelous "V" of her womanhood. I pause long enough to strip Susan of her thong. Resettling, Susan pivots her body slightly onto her right side and raises her left leg, placing her left foot on the bed.

I push Susan's legs open a little more for better access. At the same time I shift my body around so we are, indeed, side-to-side and head-to-foot. Susan grips the waistband of my briefs and strips them off to my knees. I'm able to reach down far enough to kick them all the way off. Then I take a similar posture with my opposing leg as she.

A couple of shifts are necessary, and then we're lined up as we should be.

Susan actually starts first. One hand grasps my penis, which is not much less rigid than it was a few minutes ago. Her mouth opens and I feel a hot exhale of her breath bathing my cock. She rubs the head over her glistening lips, then across her cheek. There are light but full, wet kisses on the head, along the shaft, back to the head, as her examination continues.

My cock is reacting by steadily stiffening even more within Susan's hand.

For my part, I'm doing a soft exploration of Susan's glorious pussy as well. I breathe my own furnace of hot air across it and over it. Droplets of moisture are softly oozing from between her inner lips, which are pursed lightly together. With one finger I lightly trace that line, and gently spread the lips apart. My tongue slowly follows the reverse path, from bottom to top.

Susan whispers a soft "Mmmmm... yes." She punctuates it by taking my cock, softly but fully... slowly... into her mouth. My back arches into her.

My answer is to fully cover Susan's pussy with my whole mouth. I softly and slowly run the soft part of my tongue down and then up her glistening slit. It feels alive in my mouth... writhing. I pause and the top and gently... slowly... caress Susan's clit with the tip of my tongue. From around my dick I hear... and feel... Susan gasp her reaction:

"Ahhh... Ahhhh... Mmmmf."

Her intensity on my cock goes up a notch. My intensity on her snatch goes up a notch as well. But it's still soft. Measured. Careful. Adoring. Just like Susan said she wanted, not just in the ramp up to this encounter, but at the jazz club last night when she described her perfect lover.

The pas de deux continues.

If there was a camera the overhead shot would show a man and a woman completely enraptured in the unmistakable glory of mutual consumption of each other's sex. Each softly writhing against the other. Each slowly, softly climbing their own respective hill to orgasmic bliss.

But Susan doesn't want this to end too soon.

Susan releases my cock from her mouth and moves to straddle my hips. Her gown is now an impediment so she strips it off her shoulders and pulls the fabric out from under each of us. Now she's just wearing her bra. She reaches behind her back with one hand and releases the clasp, tossing the bra aside.

With that, Susan grasps my dick and begins to rub it slowly over her pussy. She's still wet from our oral escapade from earlier. It feels incredible.

Susan closes her eyes and softly continues to rub the head slowly, sensually over her pussy lips. It's an amazing combination of fucking and masturbation that I've never felt before.

As my erection grows Susan opens her eyes and lays my cock down onto my stomach. Then she shifts her position so her pussy is resting against the underside of my cock. Susan leans forward onto her hands on either side of my chest.

Staring into my eyes, she begins a slow front-and-back slide of her pussy lips over my cock.

My hands come up to her hips, and Susan rises to a kneeling position, still sliding slowly up and back. My hands then move up to her tits. Susan grabs them and puts them back on her hips.

"Not yet," she whispers. "I'll tell you when." The rubbing resumes.

I'm starting to lose it. This drop-dead gorgeous woman is naked, crouched over me, gently rubbing my cock with her gorgeous, dripping pussy.

All I can say is, "Susan... oh, jesus!"

She stops.

Her whisper races into my ear: "Phil... I'm going to fuck you now. But I don't want you to come. Not yet."

Maybe I manage a nod of my head... I'm not sure.

Susan raises up on her knees and reaches behind her to grasp my cock with her right hand. She places it at the entrance to her sensational pussy, and wiggles it against her inner lips slightly until they part to make room. She leans forward and puts her left hand on my chest for balance.

And she pivots her hips and gently lowers herself down onto my raging cock.

Susan's natural wetness allows my cock to slip deep within her. Maybe deeper than she was expecting.

Her eyes droop closed and she releases a long, throaty sigh. "OHHHhhhhhhh!!!" Susan begins to slowly rock back and forth with my cock firmly inside her.

"MMMmmmm," she purrs. Her motions stay slow but it's not an up-and-down cadence. Which is probably the only thing that's keeping me from erupting into her.

I need something to do, just for the distraction. And whether Susan realizes that or not, she reaches for my hands and places them on her gorgeous tits.

Her rocking motions continue and I gently, softly, slowly knead her breasts and equally gently, softly pinch her nipples. It becomes clear Susan is climbing her hill.

"AAAaaahhh!" she moans. Another long exhale and then Susan stops moving. Her eyes open into mine. And her words sizzle into my ears.

"Fuck me, Phil," Susan whispers. "Fuck me... nice... and... slow."

Susan collapses down onto me. I first think she wants a kiss but the action quickly turns into a roll and I'm now laying on top of her, somewhat awkwardly. We both get into a better position, Susan's legs are spread apart with her feet on the surface of the bed. I work my way between her legs and approach her pussy with the head of my cock.

The different position creates a different entry into Susan's love hole. My first push doesn't go to the hilt, but the second one does.

Another long "OHHHhhhhhhh!!!" comes from deep within Susan. Her legs come up around my back and she links her feet together.

I'm suspending myself by my elbows over Susan's incredible body. Her arms are grasping my shoulders as I slowly pump in and out of her luscious, juicy cunt.

Her moans are accenting my movements.

"Ohhhh... yes... just like... Ohhhhh"

Susan is kissing my neck. Her breath is racing into my ear.

Susan tightens her legs to pull me more fully into her. Her hands move to my ass and she pulls me there, too. I'm struggling to keep my thrusting nice... and... slow.

"Ohhhh... yes... MMmmm... MMmmm."

Then, a whisper: "Ohh, Phil... you're making..."

And then, "Ohh, Ph..... Oh, fuck me... Oh, Phil... cum for meeeee."

I feel Susan's pussy clinching around my cock. Her quakes start but they aren't the rapid, spasmic movements of prior orgasms I've experienced with her. It's a deeper kind of reaction. The pulses are there but they seem to emanate through her, instead of erupting out of her.

My orgasm is right along side Susan's. When mine releases I thrust fully into her pussy and stay there... spurting my jizz to what must be the very back of her love tunnel.

Our chorus of "Aahs" and "Ohhs" die out together. We lie together for a minute or so as our breathing modulates.

Susan breathes a quiet "Mmmm" and kisses me softly. The she unwraps her legs from around my back and I roll off to her right side.

Susan pulls the duvet over both of us again and we snuggle.

We lie together quietly. I'm softly stroking Susan's hair while her head rests on my shoulder.

She whispers, "Jesus, Phil. Maybe I say this a lot, but... that was incredible.

"Absolutely incredible." And she smiles and kisses me softly on my cheek. She sighs a long sigh.

After a few long seconds, Susan stirs and looks into my eyes. Her hand snakes under the duvet and find my flaccid penis. She fondles it softly.

"I'm just thinking," she begins, "that was the first time I've had your cock in my mouth?"

I pause for a few seconds for confirmation, then: "I think so. Yeah, I think it was."

I continue my thought: "But it doesn't have to be the last..."

Susan laughs softly through her nose.

My cock is stirring under Susan's touch, but I'm a long way from being erect. My refractory period isn't as brief as it used to be when I was younger.

Susan seems to sense that. Still, she asks a pertinent question.

"Do you want it... now?" she whispers.

I pull her more fully into my arms.

"Let's save that for the morning," I murmur.

"It'll give me something to dream about."

Susan emits a soft giggle and snuggles more fully into my side.

"Well, then," Susan whispers as she softly kisses my shoulder, "... sweet dreams!"

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