Guilty Pleasures Ch. 02

Welcome to my latest series, mashing up a few more tropes. This one turned out to be a crazy ride, so get ready for something that ends quite unlike it is beginning.

One thing you can be sure of, even though this is Literotica, and this story could easy veer off into... THERE, it does not in fact, go THERE. So either don't fear, or don't get your hopes up, whichever your preference.

Lastly, as always, I am not going for deep truths or gritty realism. The aim for me is a plausibly ridiculous course of events.

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Guilty Pleasures - Two

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The next morning, the ship had already made port by the time I awoke. I am usually an early riser, but the sea air, the great food the night before, and the insanely erotic opportunity to enjoy the stupidly hot body of a mature beyond her years, twenty year-old girl over the course of the prior afternoon had left me sleeping through the night like a very exhausted rock.

My dreams should have been filled with torment and guilt, but my sleep was utterly tranquil. Apparently, my subconscious has no conscience. Once I awoke, said conscience was in full, muscular flower. I groaned in a combination of physical and moral decrepitude as I pulled myself from my bed.

At least that bed had not still smelled like Anne when I went to sleep. The cabin steward had changed the sheets that evening during dinner. Big tip for that guy. He had given me a wide grin when we passed each other the corridor late in the evening, after dinner. Considering I had no one staying in the room with me, a bed wrecked as thoroughly as mine had made me his hero.

I had managed to avoid dining with the girls that evening, which was all that had me still sane the next day. If I had had to sit through dinner with their chattering youth, while still in the considerable afterglow of being with Anne, I would have been in agony. There was no way my daughter would have not realized something was up.

And the way Anne was still looking at me, in that combination of playfulness and... admiration(?), she probably would have let something slip too.

Of course, I groaned again as I got in the shower, she still might have ratted me out during the meal the four of them enjoyed at my expense in the one of the ship's specialty restaurants. Girls that age talk, especially those four, and don't I know it. More likely, she would have simply let it slip accidentally.

But Becca had not descended upon me like a banshee yet, so the possibility that I was safe, and would not be punished in this life, at least not by anyone but myself, was tantalizing. All I needed to be sure about was never letting Anne get me alone again for the rest of the cruise. That should be easy, right?

Right?

The hot water of the shower was highly restorative, and I was surprised to find that my old body was not worn out, but actually reinvigorated. The inevitable memories of Anne reinvigorated my cock as well. That shocked me frankly. After its first triple-orgasmic performance in at least a decade, I was surprised it still worked enough to pee, much less actually swell. I glared reproachfully at the unscrupulous appendage which had led me into this wallow of guilt. It waved back idly, hard as a rock.

Since well before my divorce, and especially in the intervening dry years, jacking off in the shower had become my regular MO, whenever an erection presented itself. Not that morning, though. My cock had had enough fun for a year, and I was not going to sully Anne's memory by wanking off to her that morning.

I sighed. I knew I was going to damned sure sully the shit out of her memory, and often, once I finally broke down at some point. But not that morning, dammit!

I climbed out of the shower and dressed quickly. I had been convinced early in the planning stage of this trip to take the girls to a semi-famous brunch spot in that day's port. Who the hell eats brunch ashore on a cruise?

We were set to meet at the restaurant itself, so I comforted myself with the prospect of a lonely walk to the restaurant from the pier to berate myself some more, and otherwise get my shit together.

Of course, I ran into the four of them in the debarkation line. They were all, including Anne, perhaps especially Anne, bubbly and in a great mood, and I trudged along behind them through the port. It should have been great, hearing my daughter and her young friends being so happy and enjoying life, but I was not finding it in me to relax in that enjoyment. I had enjoyed far too much with Anne the prior day to not make it weird.

Weird, not awful, I realized.

Looking at Anne's cheerful face, and a good bit at her choice ass, she seemed to have come through the experience quite happily, thank you. Maybe, if I could keep myself from a relapse, I could learn to live with myself again. Maybe.

The brunch was, surprisingly, quite good. Not two hundred dollars good, mind you, especially when there was a perfectly delicious brunch back aboard that I had already paid for...

Still, the French Toast made from sliced cinnamon rolls was a nice analgesic as I let the girls chatter on about the day...

But every time Anne had opened her mouth... her talented little, inexperienced mouth, I cringed. She would never have intentionally said anything about what happened, but she was just a girl. I have a daughter, obviously. Skilled secret keepers, these young women were not.

But Anne was smarter than I had given her credit for... or craftier. She never said word one of any cover story about the prior afternoon, but kept the girls talking about theirs. They had zero suspicions, or even curiosity about her missing hours.

Glad as I was that she was better at discretion than I had hoped, I was still a miserable wreck myself, and unfortunately that meant I was the one of us who gave away that something was up.

"Dad? Are you okay?" Becca asked as we waited for the check.

"Yeah, Mr. Howard," Carol added. "You look kind of bummed or something."

I waved them both off. "Nothing's wrong girls. I'm just a little jealous that I didn't hang in there with you guys and go biking yesterday."

"Sure," Carol said teasingly. "I'll bet you went back to the ship to look for women." She looked at her friends. "Guys, maybe we should all bag zip lining today, so we can investigate all the other passengers and find some hot women with high standards and low morals for Becca's dad!"

"Carol!" shrieked Becca, loud enough draw a few stares. That was good, because it gave me an excuse to look mortified.

As soon as the check was paid, I told them, in my best good mood voice, that they should get their butts in gear and head for the muster point for the zip-line tour.

"Us?" Becca said sharply. "What about you?"

"He's not going," Anne said quickly. "The chicken," she added perilously.

Becca missed that Anne already knew I was taking a pass, thank goodness. "Dad, you are an absolute wienie! Come with us," she commanded, in her best, almost adult, daughter voice.

"Yeah, Mister Howard," Mary chimed in. "What if I get scared?"

"Please," I scoffed. "The only thing that would scare you lot would be the sight of me screaming at the top of my lungs, flying through the air with my eyes screwed shut. Nope. Not doing it. You guys have fun."

I was actually a little offended at how easily they gave up trying to get me to come along.

They went back to chattering about how fun it was going to be, and I got up. I knew they'd chat their way into missing the trip if I didn't. "Get moving girls," I said. "I'm heading back to the ship."

"Oh wow, yeah," said Carol, popping up out of her seat.

Then she grimaced, and bent down, leaning on the table.

"Carol! What's the matter?" Anne asked, concerning her voice.

"Twinged the knee," Carol said, a look of concern creasing her brow.

"Oh shit," Becca said softly. I shot her a look. Language, daughter. Language.

But Carol was a varsity athlete, a softball pitcher with knee surgery for a ruptured ACL in her history. "Oh shit," I said as well.

"Chill out, everybody," Carol said. "Nothing bad just happened. I know the signs." She sat back down heavily however. She rubbed her knee tentatively. "Give me second..."

We all stood around her, anxiously. At least this kind of concern was something I was supposed to feel. That felt good.

Of course, if there was something actually significantly wrong with Carol's knee, I would be the one who would have to do something about it, and I did not have the slightest fucking idea about what that would be.

Carol flexed the knee, then stood slowly. She lifted it and lowered it. "False alarm kiddies," she said at last.

"Thank God," Mary said.

"You sure?" My daughter added.

"I am," Carol said firmly. "But I'm going to pass up the zip-line, guys."

That met with a chorus of dismay.

"So you are not all right," I said, unhappily.

"No, I am," Carol said. "I really am. But I had to convince myself to do this excursion in the first place. I think this twinge is just a sign that I shouldn't risk it."

"It was your idea in the first place!" Anne exclaimed, still distressed about Carol's scary wince.

"I know, and I really want to go," Carol replied unhappily. "But I really, really want to pitch next season, and I really, really, really do not want to have another surgery."

"If it scares you, don't go," I said firmly. I didn't want to be the Dad on Duty if she got hurt. I shuddered at the thought. And I had thought I was feeling guilty before...

"Take her ticket, Daddy?" Becca asked quickly. So much for her deep concern for Carol's knee.

"Fat chance!" I snorted. "The rest of you get going, if you want to take the trip yourselves."

"Will you walk back to the ship with me?" Carol asked quietly.

"Of course," I replied.

"Can we borrow your GoPro camera?" Anne asked Carol quickly. "You know, so we can at least show you video."

"Your selflessness astounds me," Carol laughed, her natural good humor reasserting itself already. But she handed over her small pack with the head band and tiny camera mounted on it.

The three surviving hellions shot off toward the shore excursion muster area.

"You are good right? No fooling around?" I asked Carol quietly as they left.

"I am good," she said firmly. "I don't even feel the twinge at all. Let's go."

I still made her walk slower than any of the four usually moved as we made our way back through town to the wharf. Sure enough, by the time we were walking alongside the hulking mass of the ship toward the boarding ramp, Carol was grumbling again.

"Okay, so it is a little sore," she admitted. "It isn't painful, not the kind of pain that means it is tweaked, or God forbid damaged again. But the biking yesterday was probably too much and it got tired." As we passed through security, she asked me, "Do you have any Advil, Mister H?"

"You, of all people, didn't bring any pain meds with you on the trip?" I asked in surprise.

"They are in my camera bag," she grumbled.

I could not help but laugh at both of us. "I'm forty-five, Carol. Of course I have all the analgesics! Let's take the elevator up and I'll get you some."

My room was already cleaned by the time we reached it, which was amazing to me. My cabin steward must hide in the shadows and leap out to make it up the second I leave the room.

I stepped into the little bathroom and grabbed some bottles.

"I have Advil, Tylenol, and even some Midol," I announced as I returned to find Carol sitting on my bed, with her leg stretched out on it, in a pose that I was not ready for in oh so many ways.

"Midol?" she exclaimed in surprise. "You keep that around for Becca?"

"To be honest," I almost muttered, "There are a few aches and pains that it works best for for me." I almost never took Midol, but I do have a bad tooth, and when it barks, Midol is the best. Do not judge me.

Okay, there is plenty to judge me for, but not that.

"Advil will do, and plenty of water?" she added plaintively.

I grabbed one of the ubiquitous bottled waters the ship kept us well supplied with, and handed it to her, along with the pills. Her fingers dragged across my palm as she took them from me...

"You are sure that the knee is good?" I asked anxiously. I needed to be anxious. Worrying about Carol's health was what I was supposed to be here for. And it kept me from all sorts of other thoughts--thoughts I'd never entertained about her before.

The same sort of thoughts that I'd never entertained about Anne before the prior day.

"Yeah," Carol obliviously said, a little frustration in her voice. "It is just sore from all the biking yesterday. It's not even as bad as my arm gets after going seven innings."

I was going to have to watch Carol, um, carefully, and make sure she didn't over-stress that knee. "Well regardless, I'm glad you decided to play it safe and stay behind today," I said firmly.

"Oh, you are glad I stayed behind on the boat with you?" she chirped, with a little grin.

For Pete's sake, don't you start flirting with me, girl! Please?

Was she? Flirting?

"Just do what you need to to feel better," I urged repressively.

She nodded thoughtfully. "What I need is to give it a good rub-down," she said, stretching slightly. "You could do this better and faster, you know," she said, looking at me expectantly.

I looked at her. I looked at that outstretched leg, almost entirely exposed by the short blue hiking shorts she had worn that day for the zip-lining. I looked quickly back to her.

What I should have said was, no. What I needed to say was, we had a full-service spa on the ship, and I could easily get her a professional massage. All I could say for a space, was nothing as I looked back down at that leg, that sleek, athletic leg.

Anne and Carol have very few adjectives in common to describe them. Anne has jet black hair, while Carol has a long, brown ponytail. Anne is average height, and Carol is tall. Anne is lithe and lissom, while Carol is lean and scrumptiously fit. That leg was lightly, but perfectly muscled, and uniformly golden tan. A tan acquired largely in my back yard, in a distant past when I could look at her in a string bikini in the sunshine and think nothing of it. A very distant past.

The only adjectives they had in common were ones like 'Hot'.

"I was going to go back ashore in a bit and see about some local rums," I grumbled.

"No problem, Mister Howard," Carol shrugged. "I could just use a short rub to get the blood flowing. And thanks for rubbing it in about the rum," said the underage woman in front of me.

I didn't want to loom over her while I worked on her knee, so I rather unwisely sat on the side of the bed, and lifted her outstretched leg to set it across my lap. I say unwisely, because I was instantly aware that blood was already flowing vigorously in me, and very near to her. I firmly positioned her leg across my thighs and well down toward my knees. She had no need to feel anything of what I was experiencing.

Such a nice damned leg...

My fingers dug tentatively into her flesh around the joint, but she made no sounds of pain, only a hum of happiness. I relaxed a little. Which was bad, because I needed my concern for her health.

"You have great hands, Mister Howard," Carol said softly, with a smile. "That feels wonderful. Why haven't you massaged any of us before?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you obviously know what you are doing. All those times around the pool when we were there, why didn't you offer to massage any of our shoulders or backs. We usually get stiff or sore as the day progresses."

"Well..." I temporized.

"We'd have returned the favor, or at least I would have," Carol said softly.

Ohhhh, shit.

"Well..." I temporized some more.

"I mean, don't you get stiff out there all afternoon with us making fools of ourselves in the water?" Carol asked with a silky tone that I didn't like at all.

I mean, I really liked that tone, but I was very, very much not supposed to like it.

"It, ah, never really was a problem for me, uh, then," I muttered.

Really, Clark? 'Then'?!? And maybe my hands needed to be done with rubbing her leg. But they kept right on caressing her flesh.

Carol laughed, catching my words, and taking them as me flirting back. "Oh, so maybe you are stiff today? Like now?"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This could not be happening a second time, right? There was no way.

But is sure seemed like I was being come on to again. The reason I was fixating so hard on her leg, perhaps disastrously so, was to keep from noticing what else she was doing. She was leaning back, bracing herself against her arms straight out behind her. This had the effect of thrusting her considerable bust up and toward me, with only a tight teeshirt and, thankfully, a sturdy bra corralling those considerable puppies.

I was not going to start staring that way... Which left me with this fucking leg in my lap. Which I kept rubbing silently.

"Do you like my leg, Mister H?" Carol asked after a few beats.

"Like it?" I almost gleeped. "Uh, you have a fine leg here, Carol. You are very athletic and modern medicine is amazing."

"It sure is, but for the record, my injured knee is the other one," she said with a straight face.

I looked down. Yep, the surgical scar was nowhere to be seen on the knee I was still rubbing!

"Oh come on," I said, unable to stop from smiling in embarrassment.

"I wasn't going to stop you," Carol laughed merrily. Then she lifted the leg free from my grasp. Thank God.

But then she lowered it back down behind me, and put her other leg, the sore one with the surgical scar, in my lap. Now I was sitting on my bed, with Carol fucking straddling me from the side.

And yes, she was definitely coming on to me. Shit.

And when she repositioned herself, a moment at which I should have leapt to my feet, she also dropped the second leg, the one now in my lap, much further up my thigh. I was deathly certain that she was now provably aware of how 'stiff' my 'muscles' had become.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

If yesterday had been horrifying, today was terrifying. It should have been horrifying too, but while I wasn't past that, I was somewhat numbed to the fact that a twenty year-old friend of my daughter was making a pass, an aggressive pass at me.

What was bone-chilling were the added new terrible complexities surrounding how I handled this.

My mind spun, trying to figure out all the numerous ways that this could end disastrously... well, more disastrously.

First, I mean come on, they must have coordinated this. Anne and Carol were roommates on the ship, and roommates at college. Either they had cooked this up in advance, and it was now Carol's 'turn', or Anne had spilled the beans, an eventuality I should have expected, no matter my hopes.

So, since Carol had to know about Anne, if I did the right thing and extricated myself from between these... fucking amazing legs, things would suck.

First, Carol would be hurt that I had given into Anne but not her. That would be terrible. I didn't want to hurt any of my 'daughters-in-buddy'. But she was young, and wildly attractive. She would survive being turned down by a decrepit old guy like me. I wouldn't hurt her long-term.

But I would be hurt, short and long-term. Because Carol would be jealous, and mad. And angry, jealous young women did things like tell daughters what their father's had been up to.

Also, if I turned Carol down... I'd be turning down sex with Carol. Just like with Anne the day before, once the idea had entered my head, and I dealt with the reality of it, I wanted it.

I mean, damn. There was a reason that ESPN had televised two UNC softball games last season, despite the team being solidly outside the Top 10. Both games had been ones that Carol had pitched. Her legs and ass in those tight softball pants were... an attraction. And in this, her Sophomore year, she had changed the fit of her jersey to a very tight one, which showed off her considerable additional attractions. Attractions that were suddenly pressing against my side as she sat up and leaned forward, drawing me even tighter into her legs' embrace.