Bermuda Run

Both had looked sheepish when I asked if they'd brought protection. It was obvious they hadn't done anything like this before, but they broke out into grins when I opened the nightstand drawer and showed them that I had my own supply.

"Shit, look at those," Steve exclaimed. "Can we use them all?"

"Only with me," I answered, with a smile.

Neither of the young men had a particularly spectacular cock, although both were serviceable, but the overall aspect of the bodies of both certainly was spectacular and was just what the doctor had ordered—hard, yet supple and smooth, unblemished skin, the skin pulled tightly over well-developed and -balanced muscles. And, most important, they each stayed hard and panting throughout the afternoon—and willing to gain new experiences.

Steve fucked me in fumbling missionary style—although as long as he got it buried and pumped it, I was fine—while Tony watched from a nearby club chair. Then Tony put me on all fours on the bed and doggy fucked me while Steve knelt at my head and fed his cock into my mouth. Tony clearly was the more experienced of the two. The two young men were facing each other over my chest, and I'm sure they thought I didn't see them kissing each other. But I did. And I didn't mind.

The highlight of the afternoon—at least for me—was when Steve was lying on his back on the bed and I was riding the cock, facing him, and Tony nestled in behind me, pushed me forward onto Steve's chest, rolling my pelvis up, and worked his cock into my ass.

It's always those dark, brooding ones you have to watch out for. But I loved it. I even loved it when Steve worked his way out from underneath me and went behind Tony and fucked him in the ass while Tony was fucking me in the ass.

Dinner was a hit, and I was gratified to see that both young men were slightly dejected when I said I had other plans for the evening.

I never got to show them the balcony, but Cord got to see it that night. He fucked me, missionary style and squeezing those breasts that fascinated him, with my back on the patio table and my feet dug into the balcony railing on either side of his waist. We worked hard to muffle our vocalization, as there were balconies to either side of ours and we were afraid that someone would come out on a balcony down the line even though it was 3:00 a.m.

"You don't worry about being seen," I said, with a giggle, referring to the darkness of the skin, "But they may see flashes of me in the gaps between the balcony panels."

"Can't have that," He whispered, as he enveloped my body in his chocolateness and began to set his hips in motion, pumping my vagina in swift, steady strokes. I reveled in the slight upward curve of the cock and the oversized cap on it as he slid up into me, and then out and in again. He was longer than either one of the boys. He was longer than any man I'd had in the last year. And so, so, sexy. He could sing me his songs forever.

He began to pump harder, and I would have cried out in my passion as I exploded, if he hadn't stuffed my panties in my mouth. I could tell when he went tense that he was ready to blow and I raced to meet him with an orgasm, but he jerk and came. He was remaining hard, and, sensing I needed more, he gathered in my legs so that they ran up his chest, leaned back, and reached a new depth with the thrusts of his cock, only stopping when he knew I'd had an orgasm.

He wasn't satisfied just with a normal fuck, though. After a brief respite of cooing and watching the moonlight glide across the waves as we embraced closely, he turned me onto my belly on the table top, enveloped me in his darkness again, and fucked me in the ass.

* * * *

I took the boys to a remote beach when we docked in Bermuda the next day. Rather than a taxi cab, with a curious taxi cab driver, though, we rented mopeds and Steve rode one and I rode sitting close behind Tony on the other. I had Tony so much in heat with my hand under his waistband stroking his cock as we drove to the beach, that we barely got a towel down, before he pushed me down on my back, stripped off my bikini bottoms, forced his knees between my thighs, and spiked me with his hard, throbbing cock. Laughing, I arched my back, dug my fingernails into his shoulders, and met him thrust for thrust. He was young and virile and despite the heat I had brought to him, he pumped me for a good twenty minutes, through two orgasms of mine own, before he ejaculated, creaming my insides with his cum, both of us only then realizing he wasn't wearing protection.

I didn't care. I held him close to me, my ankles locked behind the small of his back to keep him inside me, while his cock only slowly went flaccid and moved languidly inside me in the mix of cum and my own flow.

After he'd gone flaccid—not concerned a bit whether I'd had an orgasm, but I'd had two—he pulled out of me, jumped up and ran into the surf where Steve had already gone. Neither of us had mentioned that he hadn't been wearing a condom. I lived in hope—knowing that there was no fear of pregnancy—and he lived in ignorance.

When the two came out of the water, they lay on a towel, Steve covering and fucking Tony, with the heels of Tony's feet stroking Steve's butt cheeks to the rhythm of the fuck. I watched, with contented sighs, as I drank three glasses of wine from one of the two bottles we'd brought.

They double fucked me in water up to our waists and breakers swirling around us—Steve crouched and me perched on his thighs, pinned to him by a cock separating and rubbing the inner surfaces of my puffy labia and reaching beyond that, far up into me. Tony was behind, pumping my ass, as he seemed to prefer to do. I enjoyed it as well.

The wine bottles empty, mostly drunk by me, who was a little drunk, I opened my legs to Steve and presented my bum to Tony, in turn, on the towel again as the sun was dipping behind the concealing rock formations between the road and the concealed beach. I don't remember if condoms featured in either of the fucks.

When we returned to the ship, like puppy dogs, they wanted to come to my cabin with me, but I had had enough from this cruise. It had been divine, but I didn't consider myself a slut or a nymphomaniac. I didn't really see myself that way. I just needed servicing like this every six months. Attention George didn't give me. And I was running out of friends in Philadelphia who would let me be alone with their sons.

I made sure I still had the extra pass card to my room and remained there that night as the ship pulled away from Kings Wharf in Bermuda and all through the next day at sea, reading Nora Roberts on the balcony, nibbling at delicacies I had delivered to the cabin, reminiscing on what a really nice time I'd had on this cruise, and scheming on how I would sell enough houses in a depressed market to be on the cruise again in six months.