I Waited Twenty Years Ch. 08

I left the bridge at mid-morning and strolled down to the pool area where our guests were getting the attention of a large staff serving drinks and cooling the sun bathers off with cold sprays of water. Kirsten was circulating and interacting with our guests. I joined her and we sat down in the shade under an umbrella to talk.

"When's the next party with the guys?" I asked.

"Well, it looks like there may be a small one tonight. Two guys with me and Joan."

"What about Roger?"

"He's gonna do me again if there's a party. He said Ryan had already talked to him. It will be expensive for only two guys - Roger's charging him the full price. But the horny bastard's gonna pay it to see me get butt-fucked again. Roger says Ryan really wants to watch me squirm and scream just like I did last night."

Kirsten was laughing about Ryan wanting to watch her asshole get stretched out.

"Well, you should be ready," I said.

"I want to watch that horny bastard pump another load up on his belly," Kirsten said, laughing. "Joan says it's a waste of semen but I have fun watching him play with his balls and pound his pud like a teenage kid. The horny bastard!"

I laughed. Kirsten had a dilemma. On the one hand she enjoyed fucking Ryan's young energetic body -- on the other she resented his desire to watch her suffer sexual pain for his amusement. She was pretending, of course, but only a real bastard would enjoy watching a woman squirm and scream as her asshole got stretched out by a thick penis.

But most of all she enjoyed being in control. She enjoyed making a grown man play with his own balls and jack off like a kid when there were two naked ladies available right there for his pleasure. This was a feeling of power that she enjoyed.

But before long they were certainly gonna fuck Kirsten in the ass themselves -- one after another probably. It would save them money and they would enjoy feeling her struggle and beg and tremble in pain when they pounded her. It was gonna happen sooner or later. The bastards!

Who was I to talk? I remembered how I had enjoyed giving her pain when I butt-fucked her and I didn't know she was faking it. All of us were bastards!

Of course they wouldn't hurt her and she could take charge by laughing at their skinny dicks compared to Roger. That would be the humiliation they deserved for wanting to cause her pain, but then they might not want to fuck her. I wondered if she would do that -- Joan wouldn't hesitate.

Suddenly Kirsten said, "There ought to be a law! Dammit! Look at that bitch!"

She indicated Trish who was walking along the other side of the pool in a red bikini. The damn thing barely covered her beaver in front and her ass in back and the top was filled to overflowing with her big firm tits, which jiggled as she walked. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight.

She was decent, but barely so. That body looked as good in her bikini in sunlight as it had looked naked last night. Kirsten was furious! I guess every woman who saw her was comparing what Trish had to her own body.

"And look at those shoes," Kirsten said angrily.

Trish was wearing heels -- not spikes of course -- but wedge heels perfect for poolside but high enough to show off her beautiful legs to perfection.

"The bitch," said Kirsten. "I'll bet she dyes that hair!"

I thought it better not to tell her that the beaver matched the hair on her head. It was hard not to laugh at her anger as she subconsciously compared Trish's body to her own.

Trish walked toward the elevators and I presumed she was headed for her suite. I had agreed to show her the engine room right after lunch and I suspected she had gone to change.

I leaned over and gave Kirsten a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

"We can't all be her age," I said, laughing. Then I headed for the bridge. Kirsten, somewhat reluctantly, resumed her duties with the passengers.

After an hour on the bridge I caught a quick lunch and met Trish at her Suite. I led her through a service door to a crew's elevator. She was dressed is shorts and a nice top that showed off her figure but was sufficiently modest to tour the engine room. We took the elevator down and I showed her some of the finest naval equipment in existence.

Trish was quite familiar with diesel electric motors, but she was impressed with the new automation and touch screen control systems. She especially liked the fact that generation of electricity for propulsion and hotel functions was no longer separate -- all the engines supplied one common electrical system.

"That makes propulsion just another power drain on one common electrical bus," said Trish. "That's a neat improvement. And if you need to shut down an engine for maintenance it's a lot easier -- you just speed up the others."

I agreed. Trish sounded like a damn good engineer. I wish I knew what drove her to her present situation -- "a man" she had said. Well I guess all men are bastards as Joan always says, but I wonder what he did to her?

"Oh look at that," Trish said. "No motors."

I looked where she was pointing. "Yeah," I said, "the electric motors are not in the engine room. They're built into pods controlled by cyclo-converters."

"Neat," said Trish.

Hardly a technical engineering term, but an accurate description for a system improvement that greatly increased efficiency and gave us more space.

We completed the tour and headed topside. As we emerged on the deck near the pool the first person we saw was Kirsten. Her expression was one of shock, then recovery, finally a sugar sweet smile and tone of voice that told me she figured I had just finished fucking Trish downstairs somewhere.

"Trish," I said, "I'd like you to meet Kirsten Jensen. Kirsten is director of Passenger Relations. Kirsten, this is Trish Faulkner. She and her husband are having a wonderful cruise."

"Hello Kirsten," Trish said with her bimbo giggle, "Lars was just showing me the engines."

"How exciting," Kirsten cooed in a silky sweet voice. "I'm sure you enjoyed the engines."

I was surprised. Kirsten was jealous! This had never happened with any other woman I had met on board. She must be resenting Trish's youth -- comparing her own body to Trish's. This was a first! I looked at Trish and she glanced at me. Her face told me she had read the whole thing.

"It was lots of fun seeing them," Trish said, again with her characteristic bimbo giggle.

"Why don't we sit over there by the pool and have a cool rum cocktail?" Kirsten said.

Trish looked puzzled, but followed Kirsten to a table with an umbrella. I asked the waiter for a Virgin Mary and the girls had a rum concoction of some sort.

"Tell me all about the engines," said Kirsten to Trish in that sugar sweet voice.

"They're the latest diesel electric, all automated," said Trish, again with that damn bimbo giggle.

Kirsten decided to add a tidbit of her own. "Did you know that diesel electric motors were invented for cruise ships because they're so quiet?"

Trish looked at me, a slight frown on her face.

"Well Kirsten, actually electric motors were not invented for cruise ships," Trish said. 'They've been around a long time and actually started as steam electric engines and then became diesel electric. Their best application is for icebreakers, which require large horsepower but encounter a lot of shock loading hitting big pieces of ice. Diesel motors don't take shock loading very well whereas electric motors do. They filter the shock."

Trish's giggle was gone. The look on Kirsten's face was priceless.

"Is that right Lars?" Kirsten asked, looking at me anxiously.

I nodded my head.

"Otherwise," continued Trish, "they're just typical four-stroke medium speed engines with a size to power ratio that lets you save a lot of space."

Kirsten's anger and sugar sweet voice vanished. "He really DID show you the engines!"

Trish nodded, "He really did show me the engines."

Turning to me she said, "Lars, can I drop the bimbo routine with your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," I said. "More like a sister. But yes you can drop the bimbo."

I looked at my watch. "I've got to get back to the bridge. You girls need to talk."

I headed for the bridge where Commander Ward ostentatiously looked at his watch as I relieved him. I was late.

After my tour on the bridge I changed into a sports outfit and headed for the bar, where I was meeting Kirsten at 1800 hours. She was sitting there with my Knob Creek already on the table. She greeted me warmly.

"You bastard!" She said. "You fucked that bitch! She said you gave her seven orgasms and you would have given her more except she went to sleep. How the hell did you do that with the wimpy two loads you're able to pump in one night?"

"Thank you for your admiration of my virility," I said. "But you need to understand something. I only pumped two loads. I ate pussy for her first three orgasms and for the last two."

I went on to explain how I had worried about my limitations and I spent a lot of time eating pussy.

Kirsten suddenly started laughing. "You ate pussy pie!"

"Not exactly," I said.

Kirsten still had a big smile on her face. She said, "You fucked her twice and then you ate pussy. That's pussy pie! Pussy au naturel as the French say -- in it's natural juices."

"Not exactly," I said again. "I put my face in her beaver -- which by the way is as red as her hair -- and went to work on her clit. When I brought her off her contractions pumped my cum out of her pussy and down to her asshole and I didn't swallow a drop."

"That's still pussy pie," Kirsten insisted. "You could taste it and smell it!"

"Maybe," I said, "but I got a lot of pussy and very little pie!"

"Are you gonna do her again tonight?" Kirsten asked.

"I am." I said. "Her hubby came back last night before I finished and sat in the living room of their suite masturbating as he listened to Trish groan and moan. He asked me to do her again tonight."

"Tell me about the hubby," said Kirsten.

"He likes to watch or listen and jack off," I said. "When I came out of the bedroom after fucking his wife, he was sitting on the couch with his pants off stroking a hard cock and holding a semen soaked towel. He had no shame -- no shame at all. He just kept on jacking off as I stood there watching his balls bounce up and down on that leather couch."

"He asked me to do his wife again the next night. Those were his exact words: 'Do my wife again tomorrow night.' And he said it while I was standing there and watching him masturbate! When I said I would fuck her again he shuddered and ejaculated into the towel."

"Jesus," said Kirsten. "That's perverted!"

"Then he asked me if he could watch me fuck her and I said I wouldn't let him watch."

"Then -- get this," I said. "Then he asked if he could watch me strip her down naked before I took her into the bedroom. Imagine! He wants to watch me strip his wife and carry her into the bedroom to fuck her, while he masturbates in the living room."

"Are you gonna let him watch you strip her down?" Kirsten asked with a giggle.

"Maybe. I'm gonna ask Trish about that. She likes to tease him and watch him masturbate."

"But I won't let him watch me fuck her," I said firmly. "Trish says she is tired of getting fucked, to use her words, 'with that perverted little son of a bitch looking up between my legs.' So I'm gonna do her and if hubby wants to sit out in the living room and listen to us fuck for hours, that's his business."

"Jesus," said Kirsten. "All you guys talk about them, but I can never understand cuckolds. I can't figure a guy who likes to watch his wife get fucked or gets a hard on when he hears her grunt as she enjoys a big one in the next room. Roger says guys pay him four hundred dollars to fuck their wives while they watch. I can't understand it!"

"Neither can I," I said. "It's just a perversion or a fetish or something that drives them."

I thought about the Nun and how her exhibitionism dominated her life. I didn't understand that any more than I understood cuckolds. But I had enjoyed fuckin the Nun for a week and I was gonna enjoy fuckin that poor bastard's wife for the rest of this cruise. Kirsten and Joan were gonna be busy fuckin those young studs, now that they had a sure-fire way to turn 'em on.

This had been an exciting three-month tour of duty and this last week was gonna be great. Kirsten and I would be on our way back to Bergen very soon. We were comfortable in bed together now and I felt sure I could take care of her needs for the next three months at home.

Suddenly my thoughts turned to me and my wife, Gro, and Kirsten and her husband, Stein. I remembered the four of us naked together in the sauna in Bergen. What might develop from that, I wondered? Then I wondered if Gro and Stein took saunas together while Kirsten and I were at sea. Well, like I told Trish, Gro and I never talked about it, but you never know what Scandahoovians might try.