Confessions expanded, Judy's story

Judy's Story

I took a step back all the better to admire myself in the full-length mirror on the back of our cabin door. I say cabin because it sounds better than cupboard barely large enough for two bunks and two lockers, however as it was on 'Lady Ygraine,' a superyacht based out of Athens and I was being paid to be there it was more than acceptable. I deemed the reflection to be acceptable, my blonde hair was just peeking out from under my peaked cap, the white shirt was tight in the right places accentuating my boobs which were peeping out in a cleavage above the regulation third undone button. I loved the gold epaulettes that denoted my rank as being junior cabin staff, and the black pencil skirt went well with the black court shoes.

I was surprised when I got kitted out that the heels were quite low and wide, until I was told by the bursar that pointed heels made a serious mess of the wooden floors. I was then told in quite direct terms that they were decks not floors, the walls were bulkheads, the front was the bow, the back was the stern, and I was working on port and starboard. You didn't go downstairs you went below; it wasn't a bathroom it was the heads; it wasn't the kitchen it was the galley and it wasn't the steering room it was the bridge, but I'd never be allowed up there.

"What d'you think Tilly? Can I get away with these knickers or do they show?" I asked my roommate, sorry, cabin-mate.

A tousled blonde head poked out of the top bunk. "I can see the line, maybe something smaller or none?" Tilly shared the tiny cabin with me, she had the top bunk which gave her the tiny sliver of window, no porthole, but as the view was only six inched off the surface of the sea it was hardly worthy of the name. I had the bottom bunk which made getting in and out easier.

Feeling very daring and grown up I reached up inside my own skirt and shed my offending underwear, dropping them onto my bed. Bunk.

"Right, I'm on duty in ten so I'm off to see Andrea. You coming?" Tilly jumped down, landing with a heavy thump, a straw-coloured birds nest bounced around her face. Tilly was tall and slim with a tight bum and mid-sized boobs, although she claimed to be average height for a Dutch girl, at around five seven her head was still above me and I had two-inch heels. I'm only five three so quite liked the extra height they gave me.

She ran a brush across her head, miraculously forcing her wild hair into submission, tucked in her shirt with the single bar on her epaulettes denoting her status as one step up from me, and slipped on her shoes. "Yeah, come on don't be late."

We stepped into the corridor, double checked our door was locked and set off to meet Andrea, the assistant Boatswain, pronounced 'Bosun.' She was our immediate manager and was generally responsible for dishing out our tasks. It was about a five-minute journey from our home in the bowels of the boat to her office on the lower guest deck.

There were another eight junior cabin staff, five cabin staff and three senior cabin staff, all of us blonde, although like me not all were natural. I'd turned up with mousey brown hair and was 'encouraged' to bleach it, to be fair I got the free use of the on-board beauticians to do it properly, so it looked natural. The encouragement came in the form of being offered work in the galley or cleaning if I chose to keep my own brown hair colour. I wasn't massively concerned as this was my first summer away on my own at nineteen and felt empowered making my own decisions.

We had a five-day hire starting that afternoon, a French footballer and his family were taking a cruise around the islands before three weeks in a villa on Santorini. His family consisted of his wife, a twenty-three-year-old supermodel, his brother, his personal trainer, his manager, and four or five other hangers on most of whom seemed to be aspiring models, the type that these days would be Instagram Influencers or reality TV stars.

Andrea assigned me and Tilly to the pool deck with five of the other girls, the rest got sent off to other parts of the boat to ensure the guests were never more than thirty seconds from a cocktail or a health drink.

Mrs footballer was lovely, she had been talent scouted from a corporate hostess job in trade shows a few years earlier and still remembered what a crap job the service industry can be, she learned everyone's names in the first or second day, tipped well and actually said 'please' and 'thank you' like she meant it. The footballer was OK, a bit entitled but generally nice enough. The hangers on and footballers brother were the only really unpleasant ones, treating the cabin staff with contempt whenever the senior members of their group weren't around.

The worst situation I experienced personally was one afternoon about three days into the trip when the brother and the PR man called on the ship wide intercom for more Krug to be brought to one of the suites. I was on duty in that section of the boat at the time and collected two bottles, even then it was around £300 worth of champagne, the sommelier sniffed "You could give these idiots lemonade and they wouldn't know the difference," as he handed it over. He wasn't a huge fan after they had rejected a Petrus as being "too sour," The good thing being we all got to try a bit and I agreed entirely, they were idiots, but idiots with deep pockets. Or access to the deep pockets of the French footballer.

I took the bottles on a silver tray up to the suite, knocked and waited. A few seconds later I heard "Entrez, vite." I hurried in, turning to my right as I entered to lay the bottles on a table just inside. I was greeted with a shout of, "No, over here where we can reach". On the opposite side from where I'd come in there was a full height sliding glass door leading onto the private deck space where I saw a steel and glass table with three flutes next to a bag of white powder.

Across from the table was a sun lounger, at one end of the cushion the PR man was leaning against the back rest, at the other the brother was draining the final drops from an empty Krug bottle that he then pitched over the side into the azure waters below. Kneeling between them one of the aspiring models had the PR man's cock buried in her throat while the brother was fucking her from behind, he didn't pause while he beckoned me over.

"Come here, open the booze and give me and Eriq one each."

I was beyond uncomfortable but was operating on auto pilot, so I cracked the two bottles and handed them across. The aspiring model seemed almost unaware of my presence; the bag of white powder probably had something to do with that. I was young enough at the time that I could still count the number of blowjobs I'd given and I found myself watching as she worked her mouth up and down, using one hand to grip and twist as she moved back and forth and the other hand to caress underneath his balls, a fingertip teasing behind them. I could tell just by looking that her technique was far superior to my own.

The brother spotted me watching and laughed, "Hey, you want to join in? You'll get a nice tip."

I blushed, mumbled something about not being allowed to mix with the guests and ran out, almost smack into Tilly, who was carrying in a fruit smoothie. Fortunately, no spillage occurred, and I gasped out a warning about what I'd seen. I was slightly shocked when she asked if they'd mentioned how big a tip would be forthcoming and when I couldn't answer just said "never mind, I'll find out," and went in.

I waited outside wondering whether I should send for help when she reappeared. "Fucking cheapskates, they wanted to charge the tip to the booking, so when the boss pays the bill and asks what the three-hundred-dollar special service was all about I get kicked off the boat and don't even get the tip."

I was confused and a little bit excited, did that mean if they'd have given her cash she'd have been in there on her knees? I wanted to ask but didn't dare. She didn't seem fazed by it at all, but then she was two years older than me on her third summer with the same boat, and had surely seen her share of hair-raising activity.

I managed to avoid the PR man and the brother from then on, I would be hard pressed to say which of the aspiring models was the one in the middle, she was one of four almost identical clones that spent most of their time sunbathing topless round the pool on the main deck normally with earphones plugged into a Walkman or MP3 player.

There was only another day and a half before we anchored in the bay of Santorini and the helicopter was called into service, delivering the footballer and his wife ashore while the rest were transported in the ship's tenders along with all the luggage. The brother and PR man tried to insist on a second flight but the manager had a short conversation in French using lots of words like "Con" and "Tête de noeud" and pretty soon they stopped bleating.

We had some time to spare after we dropped the footballer and his gang, a minor member of Saudi Royalty had booked us for two weeks, starting from Cyprus. This meant we had two day's cruise to Nicosia with no guests so the captain announced we could use the sun deck and other facilities if not needed for other duties. As cabin staff 'other duties' meant cleaning, so once everything was spotless, all the linen was washed and replaced, and all the rubbish was ready to be dumped ashore we had a whole day to laze in the sun.

I tried on my ship issued swimming costume to lie out in, it was a halter neck with an exceptionally low back and a deep cut front, the straps were very narrow meaning most of my boobs were on show, it was also cut quite high and narrow in the front, so I had to make another trip to the onboard beautician for a full bikini wax. You may have heard the squeals wherever in the world you were, Tilly assured me it got better with repetition. The other issue with it was that it wasn't lined so when I jumped in the pool it was pretty much see through on top, the bottom third being dark blue helped maintain some modesty.

We had a couple of free nights in Cyprus, Tilly decided we needed to go clubbing, neither of us had much in the way of nightclub gear so we went with our corporate swimsuits and took a quick trip into town to get a couple of lycra miniskirts in bright red. Around twenty of us from the boat were hitting the town and we were given a short lecture before we went ashore.

• No unauthorised guests aboard

• If you miss first duty call next day you are on a final warning

• Look out for each other

• No Drugs on board

• You make a mess; you clean it up

• No unauthorised guests aboard

Apart from that the instructions were: off you go, have fun, and see you back here in the morning. We were given a cash advance on our wages along with a three pack of company logoed condoms and a card with the phone number of a legal service the ship's owners used.

I wasn't convinced I'd need two of the three but the cash was more than welcome as Tilly and I did a bit of bar hopping, I followed her into one packed building after another, each had a different theme but all had common threads of lots of people, loud music, and cheap drinks. One had a big sign behind the bar saying, "flash for shots" and I watched amazed as a succession of girls my age jumped onto a pedestal and lifted their shirts to wave their boobs around for a huge cheer and a free Tequila. Tilly was negotiating on my behalf, telling the barman that mine were way bigger than the girl who'd just been up and were worth two shots. He agreed so I found myself being encouraged onto the podium.

I looked around the assembled throng, as I was already four drinks to the good I was feeling quite numb and threw my head back as I slipped my top down and shimmied at the packed bar. I called Tilly up to join me, getting an even bigger cheer when the two of us stood back-to-back and danced topless for a minute or two. We had a row of tequila lined up, I sipped one and decided I didn't like it which made my efforts seem a bit of a waste, although getting all the adulation was quite a kick.

There seemed to be a ridiculous number of boys from the Army in the bar we were in, all with identical buzz cuts with their blood group tattooed on their upper arm. Tilly was being bought drinks by three of them, each vying for her exclusive attention but as she was twenty-three she was probably five years older than most of them and wasn't so much playing hard to get as not going to be got. I found myself talking to one on his own, he seemed older and less self-absorbed than the rest. He had a ready smile and a bushy nest of dark hair sitting above a pair of big brown eyes. Big brown eyes that he kept looking at my eyes, not my chest, which pushed him several points up the acceptability scale.

It was quite loud in the bar and I was getting bored with a conversation that consisted of us leaning in and shouting "What did you say" at each other. So, when he took my hand and dragged me out I was happy enough to follow, I grabbed Tilly as we went by, she gave the young squaddies a wave and a "Bye boys, see you in the trenches" as we worked our way out of the crowd.

"I said, what's your name" I repeated, at a much lower volume than I'd been forced into inside.

He introduced himself as Peter, Pete. From near Gloucester.

"Judy, from Swindon, almost neighbours. Which regiment are you then? So far tonight I've met Royal Engineers, Signallers, Fusiliers and Truck drivers."

He looked confused, "I'm not army, not my style at all. I'm just travelling round, doing a bit of this, a bit of that. How about you two?"

I nodded sagely, not army. That would explain the haircut for starters, and why he wasn't surrounded by his mates.

I pointed at myself then at Tilly and said, "We're Cabin Crew." He proved jumping to conclusions was not exclusive to me and asked which airline we worked for.

I clarified, boat, not plane, and went on using terms like 'cast off' and 'reprovisioning.' I was practically Horatio Hornblower.

Pete from near Gloucester was fun company, I was happy to spend the rest of the evening around him and told Tilly I'd see her back aboard. We dived back into the bar to find the rest of the gang where Tilly latched onto one of our engineers, winked at me and said, "Knock and wait when you get back, I may have company."

We walked down to the marina, I pointed out 'Lady Ygraine,' the biggest boat in the harbour that didn't carry trucks for a living, then pointed at the tiny portholes at the back on the waterline. "That's where Tilly and I live." He told me it was still better than his shared accommodation in the hostel, eight to a room, communal showers, toilets, and kitchen.

We walked on in the late July evening heat, it was close to an English summer's day at ten thirty at night, the air was full of perfumes from the flowering trees and bushes. I felt as if we'd walked miles talking and laughing, somewhere along the way I slipped my hand in his. He led me into a grassy area just off the beach away from any lights where we sat and watched for shooting stars and satellites while we talked inconsequentialities.

One minute we were discussing the Macarthur Glen shopping centre in Swindon where I'd had a Saturday job and he'd rented his prom suit, the next we were rolling on the grass with our tongues wrapped around each other's tonsils. I heaved him onto his back, knelt astride him and slipped the straps off my swimsuit. He took the hint and sat up, kissing me on the breasts then sucking hard on one nipple while rolling the other under his palm. I felt my pussy heat up as my excitement mounted. He pushed me gently down onto my back and scrabbled with his belt.

A moment's panic hit his face. "I haven't got any, you know, protection." I laughed at him all tongue tied and embarrassed at asking about condoms, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't risk taking offence or the delights of my body would be off the table. I opened my purse and handed him a cardboard envelope. He took a look at the picture of the boat gave a half smile and giggled "Really? Corporate Condoms? Unbe-fucking-leivable."

He took one out, shucked off his shorts and pants and rolled it down his healthy-looking erection. I hadn't had enough personal experience of sex really to have a view, this was about to be my fourth ever cock on an intimate basis but it looked better to me than the footballer's brother's or the PR man's. Rather than mess about getting naked I pulled the lycra of my swimsuit aside, he crawled close and lined the tip of his cock up, then with a final look for approval which I answered with a "come on then" he slipped it home.

Well lucky number four felt great. whether it was the situation, the booze, or the lack of hair on my pussy I don't know but it was the nicest fuck I'd had to date. I lay back with my legs wide, rubbing my own nipples and pushing my boobs together. Pete was building up speed, a lovely hot tingly feeling was gathering in my pussy as I felt him stretch and drive deep. Just as it was starting to feel really interesting he shuddered and arched his back, squinted his eyes, and pursed his lips as he filled the condom with his cum.

It was all over in five minutes or less, I hadn't cum but I never had through screwing, the only time I'd had an orgasm before, during sex with someone else as opposed to on my own, was boyfriend number two who'd been the only person so far to give me oral.

Pete rolled off me, the next few seconds were going to be crucial, was he a onetime conquest to fulfil a need at the time or was he worth trying again?

He looked at me, with an embarrassed smile he said "Sorry, it's been a while and you were so hot I couldn't control myself. I promise if we get to try again I'll be better."

OK, he's passed the attitude test, I accepted his apology and told him there was one way he could make it up to me. I kissed him and took his hand, resting it on my clit. Another point in his favour, he's quick on the uptake and started rubbing gently. Too gently in fact, I put my hand on his and rubbed harder, giving a little moan of encouragement. I felt a finger slip into my slippery pussy, then another. He carried on rubbing, bringing his lips down to my nipple and sucking hard before nibbling gently with his front teeth.

I moaned again, slightly louder this time, he started moving his fingers faster, I groaned then it was my turn to arch my back and pant while I pulled a silly face.

We lay in the darkness for a moment after I'd cum, I was feeling mellow and affectionate and was about to say something stupid when the silence was broken by a round of applause.

Mortified I shot upright, adjusting my swimsuit to put my boobs away. Pete was struggling back into his shorts. Laughter was following our efforts, I jumped up and started running away from the sound of our audience. A thumping of feet and a slapping of sandals announced Pete was catching up with me.

I stopped, doubled over, and laughed as if I was never going to stop, I laughed so much I worried I might pee. Pete dropped the condom in a nearby bin and joined me in my hysterics.

"I never did it with an audience before" I struggled out through the laughter. "I'm not sure if it was hot or a mood killer."

Pete nodded helplessly. "Yeah, I was about to suggest a moonlight swim and round two when the clapping started."

I confirmed that I was interested in round two but perhaps somewhere with a bit more privacy.

He asked how long I was in port, making me feel like a pirate with a man in every port, I broke the sad news to him that as a lowly junior cabin steward I wasn't involved in the planning of ship's movements and would probably find out when we untied from the dock. If it was while I was asleep maybe not even then, all I knew was I had until seven the next morning.