Cruising Amish

Mike moved until he was straddling Ilse's face, whereupon the blonde ardently licked and sucked his hairless, dangling balls, massaging them with as much fervor as her husband gave the man's shaft.

Giving in to the moment, Mike held Abel's head in his hands, shuddering as he neared orgasm. He considered, for a moment that lasted the space of a single heartbeat, warning the young man, but did not. Instead, he slapped his hands to the wall above the bed and arched his back, pushing out as he gasped with release.

The sudden flood of thick, warm cum into his mouth both surprised and aroused Abel, to the point where he suddenly felt his own orgasm triggered as well. He convulsed atop his wife, pouring his seed within her womb while sucking every last drop from the cock before him. In the throes of his orgasm, his lips became slack around Mike's thrusting shaft. Dribbles of frothy cum escaped his mouth to land upon his wife's neck and chin.

Mike finally jerked back before the sensations became too much to endure. He sagged back against the headboard of the bed, and he and Jessica watched with sated, smiling faces as Abel and Ilse kissed and moaned together, riding out the length of their shared climax. That Mike's semen was smeared between their lips only heightened the decadent eroticism of the moment.

Finally, Abel all but collapsed upon his wife. They held each other close, kissing and murmuring tenderly, until Abel lifted up. Swaying slightly on his knees, the young man leaned back, eventually finding a comfortable sitting position. Ilse gazed upon him with a very satisfied smile, reaching out to his muscular chest, abdomen, and thighs.

"Wow. Ain't that just the hottest thing," Jessica commented, then laughed. She was quickly joined by the others.

"I think we need more alcohol now," Mike declared, jumping up from the bed. "Get dressed; the party's still going!"

* * * *

At three o'clock in the morning, while the bars were still open upon the main deck, there were few partiers on hand to take advantage of the overpaid mixologists. The two couples were able to find both drinks and a table in short order and relax beneath the warm tropical air.

Mike and Jessica lit cigarettes and offered their pack to the younger pair. Ilse refused politely, but Abel, having indulged in the menial enjoyment of tobacco during his Rumspringa, lit up as well. He exhaled a grey cloud and looked out across the dark water retreating from the massive liner. Ilse sat beside him, nursing her drink and looking more than ready for bed.

"Hell of a night," Mike commented, gaining Abel's attention. Abel lifted his head and met the man's strong gaze.

He nodded. "You could put it that way," he said, and lifted his drink for a toast. Abel's eyes lingered on Mike's. He could neither deny nor fathom why he felt such a powerful attraction to this man; it almost matched that which he felt for his wife. It dawned upon him in a sudden moment of clarity that he would rather experience pleasure with Mike before sampling anything Jessica might have to offer. That realization made him frown with confusion.

"I gotta say," Mike said with an air of satisfaction. "This is turning out to be the best cruise me and Jess have ever had."

"And we've been on lots," added his wife.

"You . . . do this often?" Abel asked cagily, the tenor in his voice carrying a double entendre.

Mike shrugged casually. "When we can," he said. "If you're just talking about taking a cruise, we do it about twice a year. If you're talking about, well, having this kind of fun . . . a little more often than that."

"We're what you call swingers," Jessica explained, sliding a hand across Mike's lap to briefly grope him. "We'd be happy to just enjoy each other for the rest of our lives, but, well, it's extra fun to enjoy other people, too."

Abel gave a smile, but it was tired and unsure. He looked to Ilse, who had fallen back into the demure mode of a good Amish wife. "This is all new to us," he said.

"Well," Mike said,m flicking ash from his cigarette. "No matter what else happens on the rest of this cruise, we're happy to have met you."

"Very happy," Jessica added with another glimmer in her eyes.

Abel looked to his wife, unsure of what he read upon her face. But Ilse shifted in her chair and snuggled close, a grateful smile decorating her lips.

"We are, too," Abel said at last.

* * * *

Retiring alone to their cabin, Abel and Ilse stripped out of their minimal clothing and, without a word, stepped into the shower. They soaped each other up and rinsed beneath the spray amid soft kisses and affectionate caresses. Toweled dry, they climbed into bed and switched off the lights in their room. The only illumination was the glow of the Caribbean moon through their balcony door.

"Abel?" Ilse asked in the moody darkness.

"Yes."

". . . on your Rumspringa," she said delicately. "Did you . . . were you with . . . other men?"

Abel winced inwardly at the question. He knew he could easily deflect the question, bring to bear the Amish ordnung that stated a wife was never to question her husband, and leave it at that. But a part of him felt compelled to give his wife the answers she sought.

"Once," he admitted.

"Only once?"

He squeezed her shoulder. "Yes. Only once."

"But tonight . . . ."

He sighed heavily. "Do you think less of me?" he asked.

Ilse shifted in the darkness, pushed herself up. Her face was dark against the backdrop of the open balcony, yet Abel was sure he saw softness in his wife's eyes.

"I am your wife," she said simply. "I love you. I could not think less of you."

He smiled and sought her lips with the tips of his fingers. "I love you, too."

* * * *

The two couples were practically inseparable after that night. Upon awaking late on the third day, Abel called Mike and Jessica's room and arranged a friendly meeting. The foursome spent time in the various pools, browsed the overpriced wares in the shipboard mall, had lunch and dinner together . . . before retreating amid knowing looks and scandalous giggles to the older couple's stateroom for more luscious sexual debauchery.

While Ilse and Jessica freely pleasured one another with fingers, lips and tongues, Abel remained a bit reserved in further displays of sexual affection with Mike. His impulses clashed with the expectations instilled in him by his Amish upbringing. He did not deny his attraction to, and desire for, the older man; at the same time, his ingrained notions of what was right versus what was wanted kept him from repeating the actions of that first decadent tryst.

So the couples kept to the husbands pleasuring their wives, even though the wives often pleased one another. Mike seemed content to only peripherally sample the young Ilse, through touches and strokes and the occasional mutual oral gratification, and Abel did the same with the lusciously-tanned brunette. But a voiceless line had been drawn before either man actually making love to the other's wife.

By the fourth day of the cruise, it had become a foregone conclusion that upon awaking, the first thing Abel or Mike did -- depending on who awoke first -- was to ring the others' cabin and plan the day. On that fourth morning, as the ship docked in Freeport, the ladies desired to sample the local shops, while Mike wanted to introduce Abel to the strategies of gambling within one of the port's casinos.

"I've never gambled before," Abel complained as Mike led him along a busy port side street.

"Well, I have. Don't worry. And it won't even cost that much. Fifty bucks should be enough."

"Fifty?" asked Abel worriedly, but he remembered the gift card from his brothers which sat in his wallet. "I guess I can do that."

Following Mike like a hound at the man's heels, Abel soon found himself stepping from warm tropical air into the cool, humid environment of a surprisingly spacious casino. Noise was omnipresent, from the electrical chirps and bubbles of the rows of slot machines to the hubbub of a hundred conversations. Now and then there came a cry of eureka, but such were drowned out by the multitude of curses and shouts of "almost had it!"

"The slots are for the suckers," Mike contended after he and Abel had swiped their cards for cash. He strolled past the colorful, cacophonous machines toward a series of felt-covered tables. "Blackjack is where it's at."

They sat at an unoccupied table, staffed by a tall, skinny black man dressed impeccably in a white shirt and tie. "Hey, mon, good afternoon to ya," the dealer drawled with a grin. "You picked the best table in the house, ya did."

"I don't doubt it," Mike replied, slapping his stack of fives and ones on the table. "Buying in at fifty."

"Uh, me too," said Abel, copying Mike's actions.

"Fifty for the gentlemen," announced the dealer, counting out colorful chips from a plastic dispenser. "Let's get this party started, ya?"

* * * *

Five hands later, Abel smiled casually as his nineteen beat both Mike and the house. "White boy wins again," the dealer proclaimed, sliding more chips to add to Abel's pile.

Mike frowned suspiciously, sipping his Jack and Coke. He leaned close to Abel. "I thought you said you never gambled before."

"I haven't," Abel confirmed, organizing his chips. From a quick count, he figured his original investment of fifty dollars had already been tripled. He gave Mike a sly wink. "I never said I've never played blackjack before."

Mike laughed and sat back. "I'm gonna call you the Amish Shark from now on," he declared.

"New hand, gentlemen," the dealer announced.

"Wait," Mike said, slapping his hand down and easing forward in his chair. He gave Abel a penetrating stare. "Let's make this interesting."

Abel chewed his lip nervously. "How interesting?"

Mike's eyes became dusky, libidinous. "The winner -- between us -- gets the loser," he proposed.

The dealer's eyes widened, but he said nothing, waiting.

Abel breathed in, feeling the fluttering wings of invisible butterflies within his stomach. "Um . . . in what way?"

"However the winner wants."

The young man swallowed thickly, but he could not deny the sudden arousal spiking through him. He stared at the green felt tabletop for a long moment, listening to his own heartbeat in his ears. Finally, he nodded with a rakish grin and met Mike's gaze. "You're on."

Mike shot a look to the dealer. "Set 'em up."

"Uh, sure, mon," the dealer replied awkwardly, then slipped the cards from the shooter. A nine of diamonds for Abel, six of spades for Mike, and a five of hearts for the house.

Abel smiled thinly, stacking twenty dollars' worth of chips. Mike matched it.

The next cards came out face-down. Abel peeked, seeing a seven of clubs, which gave him a total of sixteen. He glanced to Mike, whose face was stoic.

"Raise ten," Mike said, setting the chips on the table. Abel matched it.

"Card?" asked the dealer, looking to Abel.

Five shy of twenty-one, Abel thought. Odds are almost even. He nodded. "Hit me."

"Hit me," Mike echoed.

Three cards slid out. The dealer flipped his over. "The house busts at twenty-three."

Abel peeked at his two unturned cards. The seven of clubs had been joined by a three of diamonds, giving him a total of nineteen. He smiled. "Stand," he said.

"Me, too," Mike said, then looked to Abel with a challenging gleam in his eye. "So, one of us wins, the other loses. But who wins big?"

Abel matched the older man's look. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Mike grinned broadly. "I love the sound of that," he said, then snatched up his cards and flipped them over. The original six of spades had been joined by a four of clubs . . . and the queen of hearts.

"Twenty!" called the dealer.

Abel stared at the revealed cards, feeling both his heart sink and his cock rise. He had wanted to win, but the prospect of what Mike may have in store for him was tantalizing enough to cancel his disappointment. With slow, dramatic movements, and a knowing look to his new friend, Abel turned his cards over.

"Nineteen," the dealer said, making a grandiose gesture toward Mike. "The gentleman wins."

Mike smirked. "Bet your ass," he said.

Abel flickered his eyes away as the dealer slid chips toward the older man. He could not help but think that Mike's words had been more for him than for the dealer.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the dealer cheered as Mike and Abel gathered their winnings and stood. "Come again, hey?"

* * * *

It was only a handful of minutes later, in an alley not far from the casino, out of sight from the busy avenue, that Abel found himself pushed against the rear wall of a small, whitewashed building. Face and hands pressed against the uneven stucco, Abel shuddered with both apprehension and arousal as Mike jerked his loose-fitting shorts down from behind.

"I gotta say, Abel," Mike murmured as he lowered himself behind the younger man. "You've got a fucking incredible ass."

Abel said nothing. He tensed as he felt Mike's hands running up and down his bare thighs and naked cheeks. The thick warm air, filled with all manner of tropical scents, whirled around him. He breathed in and out, trying to relax as his lover kissed, then licked, along the backs of his thighs. He felt his buttocks being pulled apart, before a warm, firm tongue tickled his anus. Almost automatically, he pushed back against it.

But then Mike was standing once more, pressing his body against Abel's, breathing into the younger man's ear. "Do you know what I want to do to you?"

Abel nodded languidly.

Mike lightly bit Abel's ear. "Do you want it?"

Abel could only grunt and push back. He felt the other man's stiff erection against his ass.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Mike said. He eased back, taking a small bottle of lubricant from his pocket. His stiff cock jutted out above the waistband of his slightly-lowered shorts. He poured some of the lube onto his cock, then worked it in with curling strokes of his hand. Then he dribbled more onto Abel's hair-lined, puckered pink anus.

"Does this feel good?" Mike asked as he massaged Abel's asshole with his fingers.

Abel sighed heavily. "Yes," he responded meekly.

"What about this?" asked Mike, shoving a single finger into Abel's backside.

The younger man grimaced and groaned, brow furrowing deeply. "Oh! Oh, God . . . ."

Mike chuckled, easing his finger in and out. The young man's taut aperture slowly relaxed as Mike finger-fucked it. Then, abruptly, he slipped his finger free and pressed the head of his cock against Abel's virgin sphincter. He leaned in, slowly but steadily pushing against the tight opening . . . .

Abel grunted, face contorting with a myriad of emotions and feelings. He could feel his anus reluctantly giving way to the invader. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable. Then, suddenly, the head of Mike's cock popped inside him. Abel could actually feel his sphincter spread then shrink around the shaft of the other man's cock.

A realization barged through his brain: I'm being fucked. By all the saints, I'm being fucked!

"Don't push," Mike cautioned as he slowly eased more and more of his shaft into Abel's rectum. He settled his hands to the rough, dirty wall just above Abel's. "Get used to the way it feels."

Abel winced, shifting back and forth on his feet. "It hurts a little," he managed to say.

"It'll go away," Mike assured him. He held still a moment, his cock buried to the hilt within Abel's ass. The heat of the younger man's body coursed through his prick.

Carefully, Mike pulled back, looking down to watch as his cock slowly slid from Abel's anus. But just as the flaring head of his penis appeared, he pushed back in, making the younger man grunt. Again and again, he penetrated deeply before withdrawing almost all the way, and each time, the tempo increased.

Soon, Abel was trembling with each deliciously rough spearing of Mike's cock in his ass. He found himself wanting to feel the slip-sliding motions of the other man's shaft within him, just as he found that his own penis swelled and throbbed, bobbing between his legs and begging for attention. On reflex, he slapped his hand around his shaft and stroked wildly, thus adding to his own pleasure.

"Yeah, you're getting into now, aren't you?" Mike seethed in his ear, hammering harder and faster. Flesh smacked against flesh in a rhythmic symphony of manly lust.

"Yes!" whimpered Abel, face twisted against the stuccoed wall.

"Jack that cock for me, Abel," Mike urged. "I know you wanna come. Just like I wanna come inside you."

Abel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He could not believe how aroused he was, how incredible it was to feel the harsh, rapid intrusion of another man's penis inside him. Heat flashed like a wildfire through his groin. His cock vibrated like a tremolo. He was seconds from eruption.

"Come with me," Mike hissed, fucking with fierce, hard shoves. "Come with me, Abel!"

Just a few more strokes, and Abel was convulsing with passion. "God!" he exclaimed, his dick pulsing and erupting, gushing thick gouts of semen that splattered forcefully against the wall before him.

Lost to his body-wracking pleasure, Abel only peripherally acknowledged the sudden burst of liquid heat within his bowels as Mike cried out his own orgasm. The previously unknown sensation of another man ejaculating inside him only fueled Abel's rush, nearly making him black out.

The weight of his lover pressed against him, Abel panted heavily against the coarse surface. His penis dripped orgasmic residue to the ground below as it softened. Mike's cock throbbed a few times in his ass, then weakened and slowly slipped free. Dribbles of fluid trickled down over Abel's taut testicles.

The two men breathed heavily as they recovered. Abel bowed his head, looking upon the splashes of his seed upon the wall and ground, then at the milky puddle forming between his feet.

"We need . . . to get . . . back to . . . the ship," he managed to say.

Mike kissed his shoulder. "Yes, we do," he agreed.

* * * *

They lay out in the sun on one of the decks, pampered by waiters bringing bottles of cold beer and stewards stopping by with misters to keep them cool. Abel felt relaxed and fulfilled; a fantasy he had always harbored deep within his libido had finally been satisfied. A sense of self-embarrassment plagued him, however, blossoming into worry. What if I want more sex with men? What if, after this cruise, and Ilse and I return home . . . I want more?

A pair of soft feminine hands startled him for an instant, but he relaxed and smiled when his wife, standing behind him, nuzzled his ear. "We're back," she whispered.

Abel touched her arm, held her hand as she came around into view and sat on the edge of his deck chair. "Did you have fun?" he asked her.

Color rose to her cheeks. She was coy about meeting his gaze. "We just went shopping," she commented.

He cocked his head. "Did you get something to eat?"

"Oh, did we ever," Jessica chimed in, pulling a deck chair close to her husband's. "Didn't we, Ilse baby?"

The blonde's blush deepened. She did not answer right away, but her expression was telling. For Abel, the implication of Jessica's words -- and the sultry image of his wife going down on another woman, somewhere in Freeport -- made his arousal spike. Especially once his wife did speak.

"It was delicious," she whispered, looking her husband in the eye.

* * * *

The uninhibited revelry continued throughout the rest of the trip. More than sharing each other sexually with the other couple, Abel and Ilse shared the stories of their lives and learned more about that of Mike and Jessica. That they were so free and unrestrained was a source of wonder and jealousy for the Amish newlyweds. The lifestyle the Floridian swingers lived was nothing like what awaited Abel and Ilse in Pennsylvania.