Caribbean Christmas Cruise

They were facing each other close, but, by all appearances, only close enough to be carrying on a conversation. They, in fact, did make small talk—about college and marketing and clothes modeling and about how each of them had been dragged out of the Christmastime snow that they loved to go on this cruise—Kyle by his professor boyfriend and Roger by his brother from Las Vegas and his brother's wife. As they talked, their hands were busy inside the Speedo of the other, feeling and fondling each other, stroking and engorging each other's cocks.

As long as Roger was taking command, Kyle was docilely submitting to him.

"I don't think I can wait to go back to the room," Roger whispered. "I want to fuck you."

"Yes," Kyle answered.

"Right here," Roger said.

"Yes, if we can manage without being discovered."

"Push your suit down, but keep it on one ankle and that foot on the bottom of the pool. Lean back into the side of the pool, but jut your pelvis toward me. Hook your other leg on my hip."

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Kyle asked.

"Do it," Roger hissed, reaching out and palming Kyle's buttocks and squeezing and separating them, pulling Kyle's pelvis toward him. He was in command and was insistent.'

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Kyle muttered, as Roger pushed his cock head inside Kyle's ass. "Oh shit."

"Don't stop talking. Take it. stretch your arms out on the pool deck and take it. We'll do deep later, in my room. Take it. Yes, good, like that. Don't stop talking. Take it."

Kyle took it.

Later they did it on the double bed in Roger's ninth-deck junior suite, where Roger gave it to him deep. Kyle was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, his buttocks raised as he had unconsciously done on the lounge bed, Roger on his knees between Kyle's thighs, trapping Kyle's arms folded across his back, and riding his ass hard. And then they did it on the balcony, with Roger sitting in a chair, facing the ocean, and Kyle in his lap, facing him, and riding the cock by leveraging off his bare feet on deck.

A couple of hours after arriving there, Kyle was leaving Roger's cabin to go down the corridor to the stern area of the ship where Jerrod and his ninth-deck junior suite was. Roger understood that they couldn't meet again openly—that Kyle didn't want Jerrod to know they were fucking—but they had agreed to try to find time for themselves on the cruise. Both thought it very fortuitous that Roger had his own cabin, 9124. His brother and his brother's wife had the one beside his.

"We must try not to look at each other during dinner," Kyle said. "Jerrod's no dummy. He'll know something is going on."

"I can only try," Roger answered.

It must have worked, because, although Jerrod, who was in a better mood from having spent most of the day in bed with the cabin curtains pulled, rated all of the men—and some of the women—who passed their table, he made no mention of Roger, sitting five tables over, fortuitously having taken a chair with its back turned to their table.

At 9:00 p.m. sharp Jerrod and Kyle were entering the Bolero Lounge, arriving for their rendezvous with the Anges, the swinger couple they were going to hook up with for $500 a session if all were amenable to it after they'd met. Jerrod and gotten good looks of the photos they'd sent. Kyle had hardly glanced at them.

He went into shock as they approached a table Jerrod walked a direct path to, sure of the identification made possible by the brighter light of the bar over that of the dining room. The man, elegantly dressed, trim, and dapper, stood as they approach, obviously recognizing them as well. Kyle couldn't take his eyes off the other man sitting with them. Roger just returned his gaze with an amused look on his face.

They ordered drinks, engaged in a bit of chit chat, and, eventually, Jerrod said, "Well, where from here?"

Edward Ange turned and shared a look with his wife, Janine, who said, "Yes, I can hardly wait. They're beautiful." Edward reached into his coat pocket and took out a roll of bills and a room key card. "Cabin 9122, ninth deck," he said. Jerrod put his hand over the wad of money.

Kyle wasn't surprised by the cabin number. He knew that Roger's cabin number was 9124.

Roger, who hadn't been saying much during the conversation, more sitting off to the side, not part of the transaction, cleared his throat.

"I want in. I'll pay $300 to have Kyle alone this time."

"Kyle?" Jerrod asked, turning his face to his young boyfriend. The look on Jerrod's face indicated he wanted Kyle to say no. Jealousy at the competition from another man his age perhaps?

"Yes, fine with me," Kyle answered.

"Janine? Ed?" Jerrod asked, turning his head toward them this time.

"You can take care of us yourself?" Edward asked.

"I can take very good care of you. And you can have a hundred back this time. We'll be cruising for several days. You like what you get and want Kyle too, there can be other sessions."

"Other sessions sound good to me," Janine quickly chimed in, her eyes betraying her need. "I want Kyle too."

"So do I," Edward agreed.

"Next time," Roger said, giving his brother and his wife a challenging look.

Roger took Kyle to his cabin and fucked him all night long. They competed with the neighboring cabin on how loud their sounds of sex were. He used challenging positions that Jerrod had never even hinted that he knew about, and Jerrod was always good for declaring that he knew everything. What Jerrod did experience that night before he dragged back to their cabin as the ship was pulling into Key West that Kyle, who dragged into their cabin fifteen minutes later didn't, was that Jerrod's torso, buttocks, and legs were covered with welts.

"He bound and fucked me and she whipped me," Jerrod said, as Kyle applied the salve. "How about you?"

Kyle just hummed, not about to tell Jerrod how much better Roger was at taking care of him than Jerrod ever had been.

"One thing is for sure," Jerrod said. "I won't be going into Key West today. If you want to go, you'll have to go alone."

No, I won't, Kyle thought. He and Roger had already agreed to meet at a gay bar Roger knew off Duval Street, if they could shake Jerrod. Now they didn't have to worry about shaking Jerrod.

* * * *

"This is the bar you had to take me to?" Kyle asked. They hadn't walked far from the dock at the Mallory Square pier in Key West when Roger ducked into what looked like an alley and opened the door of a cinder-block fronted storefront.

"It isn't what is in the front at the bar, but what's behind it," he said and, nodding to the man behind the bar, he continued to the back and guided Kyle through a doorway covered with a beaded curtain. They were in a dimly lit corridor with doors off each side.

"You've been here before?" Kyle asked.

"Many times," Roger answered.

Kyle shuddered at the thought of the experience this man must have and of his own weakness in the face of the man's decisiveness and commands.

Roger entered one of the rooms. It was small. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all painted black. There was a black straight chair where Roger said they could fold and place their clothes and, in the center of the room, there was a black vinyl version of a fuck platform called a cube—essentially a cube of pliable plastic with restraints attached to it.

Kyle moaned and turned back toward the door, but Roger pulled him in for a deep kiss. Still holding him close, Roger murmured, "I need to have you under my control totally. I need to know you trust me—will trust me and will give me everything. I'll pay you $500 for this, but then you will lay under me only if you want to be with me. You'll give me everything, free. You'll have to trust that I will take care of you."

"I don't think I can," Kyle whined. "I saw how Jerrod came back from your brother this morning. I can't take being beaten . . . whipped." Submissiveness had its limits. Kyle was afraid of cruelty and pain.

"I'm not my brother," Roger said. "I won't beat you. I'll fuck the shit out of you, but I won't give you anything but pleasure and exhaustion. But you will have to give me full control; you will have to put your full trust in me. I require total surrender. Can you do that?"

Kyle whimpered and panted with shallow breaths as Roger bound him to the cube on his back, the cube raising Kyle's pelvis but dropping his head off one side. His wrists were bound to the lower side of the cube on either side and his legs were spread and bent and bound at the ankles at the lower corners of the cube.

Roger knelt between Kyle's spread legs and slowly sucked his cock and ate out his ass until Kyle's hole was yawning open and he was begging for the cock. He didn't get it right away. Roger came around to Kyle's head, slid his cock into Kyle's mouth, and, as he slowly face fucked Kyle's through, he toyed with the young man's nipples. Only when he was fully engorged, dripping, and sensed Kyle's full relaxation to the shaft moving in his throat did Roger come around to the bottom of the cube, insert his hips inside Kyle's spread legs, and fuck him. And fuck him and fuck him and fuck him.

Roger commanded Kyle to remain relaxed and open to him, and panting shallowly and willing his passage to open to the limit, he took the cock deep in his core, only flinching a bit when Roger flooded him deep with cum—again and again and again.

Both men exhausted, Roger lay on top of Kyle's still-bound body on the cube and kissed and fondled him.

"You gave it all to me," he whispered, his voice reflected awe.

"Yes, I wanted to give it all to you."

"If I wanted to whip you?"

"I'd let you do whatever you wanted," Kyle answered.

"Don't worry, I won't. But I'd like to be with you."

"Whatever you want. Wherever you want it."

"You know where I'd like to be?"

"Where?" Kyle asked.

"Back in the snow. It's almost Christmas. I want to be back in Jackson Hole for Christmas."

"Then you should go. I wanted to stay in the snow for Christmas too."

"I want you there with me. Would you—?"

"I said anywhere you want me, whenever you want me. You demanded total surrender. I surrender totally."

"Key West has an airport."

"Then let's—"

"Eventually," Roger said, climbing off Kyle and releasing the restraints, but only to turn Kyle on his belly, rebind him, mount his ass, and fuck him again.

While Roger was making airplane arrangements, Kyle returned to the ship to tell Jerrod he was leaving. Jerrod wasn't in the cabin, but Kyle could hear evidence from the cabin next door that indicated that Jerrod was being double teamed by Janine and Edward Ange again. He left a note, packed his bag, checked out with the purser, and rolled his bag off the ship.

On Christmas morning, the Empress of the Sea was at anchor off Cozumel, Mexico. In cabin 9122, Jerrod was earning $300 fucking Janine Ange on the bed while Edward Ange fucked Jerrod.

In Roger Ange's snowbound Jackson Hole log cabin, Roger was fucking Kyle on a bearskin rug laid out on the floor in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Merry Christmas to them all.