Seven Days Aboard

"Fuuuuck," was all I could say, looking around.

Dale turned and grasped my hands in his. "Daisy, how about Wednesday?"

"Wednesday?"

"Yeah, for a first date. Somewhere for a nice, no pressure, ordinary first date back in Texas, like Applebee's or some shit."

I looked at him, and almost laughed. My eyes had to have been bright, but I managed to drawl, "Yeah, you are going to have to do better than Applebee's. I am going to need at least an Olive Garden."

We smiled fairly stupidly at each other. His lips quirked in amusement. "I actually like Olive Garden," he admitted.

"Honestly, me too," I answered. "How about the one at Lincoln Square? Seven o'clock?"

He gave me a swift, mocking bow. "I look forward to our first date." I was still feeling skittish, despite my world having unexpectedly not crumbled to dust, and he could see it. "A clean slate, right?" Dale asked seriously. "What happens in the Caribbean, and so forth?"

"Stays in the Caribbean," I replied firmly. "A fresh slate when we meet up Wednesday."

I turned from him to stare around the suite. We still hadn't gone more than a yard into the room, enough to let the door close behind us, and I was having a hard time getting enough of the view.

Dale took a step closer behind me, and I felt a hand gently rest on my hip.

"Of course," I said, quietly acknowledging his approach, "we still have plenty of time in the Caribbean before then..."

I felt him move around me, and I turned toward him. I popped up onto my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. It was supposed to be a quick, happy 'thank you for not hating me' kiss, but things kept getting out of hand with Dale. Our lips refused to part, and we sank into a deep, wet exchange. I melted into his embrace and we held each other, half desperately as we bussed.

There were no wandering hands on either of our parts, we just clasped our hands against each other's back, pressing ourselves against each other, not in desire, but in a need for physical closeness.

The kiss lasted quite a while, before Dale broke it off at last. We gasped for air and he pressed his forehead against mine. He looked at me, as if about to take a leap. "I can't figure out what I want," he sighed.

"Tell me," I answered. He just stood there, almost frozen. I poked him in the chest gently. "Tell. Me."

"I cannot decide if I want to make slow, soft love to you tonight," Dale said tenderly, "or fuck you absolutely raw," he finished with a feral grin.

I laughed.

"To be clear," he added with serous expression, "I'm not the kind of guy who back in Texas is going to expect you to put out after a single date at Olive Garden."

"I should hope not," I answered sternly. "As for your current dilemma, since we are still in the Caribbean, and thus this will all stay here, may I suggest that I'm up for both?"

Dale had no answer for me, not in words. He just stared at me.

"But, Mr. I Sail the Seven Seas in the Presidential Suite," I said, pulling free of his arms, "Your turn to get naked first!"

He stared at me some more, but with a goofy smile starting to surface on his face. Then he reached for me with a good-natured growl, but I stepped backward too quickly for him. I dashed over to the white couch that ran along the wall and sat down, elegantly and extravagantly crossing my legs. I leaned back, my arms stretched wide across the top. He took one step toward me, and I said, "Ah, ah, ah! I stripped first on the beach for you. Your turn!"

We grinned at each other, then he shrugged and started to pull his shirt off over his head.

I'm pretty sure that he was not really trying to put on a show, as he seemed just a little too eager to get naked for me, once he caved. But holy shit did he put on a show anyway. As he tugged his polo shirt up and over his head, his chest flexed most satisfactorily. As with most details about Dale, I'd been with a guy here or there in my life who was 'more'... more cut, or had more muscles, but none had quite so leonine a build. Lean, powerful, and graceful.

He tossed the shirt aside, and I was gratified to see some perkiness in his nipples from where I sat. There was more than a little perkiness in my bra under my blouse... He reached for his fly, then stopped, pausing to kick off his shoes. Then he showed off some impressive balance as he lifted first one foot then the other to ditch the socks.

Then he tugged at his fly, unzipping first, then popping the snap on his jeans. He looked archly at me as he let them drop to the marble floor and stepped free, kicking the jeans off to the edge of the room. I rewarded him with a smile and by throwing back my shoulders and inhaling deeply. That did catch his attention.

That elegant cock of his was rigid inside his briefs, tenting the blue fabric out in most promising fashion. He stared at me. "Oh, do go on," I purred.

Dale tugged at the elastic, needing to pull the waist quite wide to clear that magnificent obstruction, and let the underwear drop to his ankles. He stepped free with one foot, then kicked them away with the other.

I burst out laughing as he finally tried consciously to make a show of it, striking a silly version of a body-builder's pose. I was positively squirming on the couch.

With three quick steps, Dale approached me, turned, and slid to a seat beside me, one arm sliding smoothly around my shoulder. "And now..." he began, reaching for the buttons of my blouse.

"Now," I interrupted, bounding quickly to my feet, "I am going to enjoy this situation for a little bit." I giggled as I turned and stared at him, sitting non-plussed on the couch. "Before I boarded this ship, I'd have never thought this trip was going to be filled with all sorts of new Fun With Nudity, but I have now thoroughly bought in," I told him, walking around the piano, trailing my fingers along its shiny, hard, black surface, but keeping my eyes on Dale and his eager semaphore on the couch.

"On this trip, I have sunbathed topless for the first time outdoors. It was the first time I've been exposed in a crowd," I said ticking on a finger.

"Where? When?" Dale interrupted eagerly. I smiled and went on.

"I have danced half the night in stripper underwear in an even bigger crowd, and despite getting my ass full-on groped by persons unknown, still had a great time for the most part," I said, ticking off a second finger.

Dale's face clouded at that piece of info, so I moved on to forestall any gallantry. "And I walked buck naked on a public beach on broad daylight, with a naked man who enchanted me into sucking his cock," I finished with another ticked finger.

"I think it is time to enjoy a little time watching someone else be exposed while I am not," I chuckled. "Seems like the next obvious step."

Dale looked at me, realizing that he was full-on nude, and I was fully clothed. Not your average Hollywood scenario. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he shrugged and said, "It is your show, Daisy. But what the fuck am I supposed to do?" He leaned forward on the couch in thought, which had the unfortunate effect of covering most of his groin.

"I think I can just enjoy myself looking at you," I said with a smile, walking back to sit on the other end of the sofa.

"I thought it was guys who were the visual types," he said.

"Oh, I can very much enjoy looking at the right guy," I said, looking pointedly at the right guy. "I've been to two different strip clubs, Mister. I've seen how guys can sit there and watch naked women all night. We can stare just as hard, once we have the right opportunity."

"Yeah, but I don't have a pole, nor would I know how to use it," Dale snarked, waving his arms to indicate the otherwise fully-equipped suite.

"You damn sure do have one," I laughed. "And I'm thinking you damn sure know how to use it. But if you must do something, go get me a drink!"

Eager to have something to do other than just sit there, nude, a confusedly embarrassed Dale sprang up and moved quickly to the bucket with the champagne. "But when were you sunbathing topless? How did I miss that opportunity?"

"First day at sea," I said. It had to be obvious where, right? "Up on the Top Deck."

"The Top Deck?" Dale asked, curiously. "Isn't that the super-fancy restaurant up on the fore of the ship? I've never checked out the menu, but my mother was super excited talking about going there when we planned the trip."

I burst into uncontrollable laughter at that.

"What?"

"The Top Deck is not a restaurant. It is the ship's top-optional sunbathing deck," I chortled. "Tell me more about your mother..."

He blanched, then face-palmed. "I would literally," he said through his fingers, "rather clean fish than say one more word about her under these circumstances."

I chose mercy, because I am wonderful like that.

"Yeah. Well, my buddies talked me into going up there."

Dale's cock bobbed. I laughed again and pointed at the offending member. "I saw that move!"

"You have some very good-looking friends," Dale said both defensively and sheepishly.

"One girl per customer, buster," I said sternly, giving him a quelling look. Sophia was apparently some kind of exception. But not for Dale...

"I'm a satisfied customer," he said, stepping over to present me with a glass of bubbly.

I spun away from him as soon as I had the glass, and almost danced around the space. "I still have to explore this monster cabin a little more," I said, walking through it. Mostly, I was mesmerized by the idea of a grand piano in a passenger cabin. I walked up to it and ran my fingers along the keys. It sounded beautiful.

"It's in tune," Dale observed. "Do you play?"

I laughed at the idea. "No. I do not! I wish." I looked over my shoulder at him, suddenly feeling very naughty, and not in a sexual way. "Honestly, I've never actually seen a grand piano that wasn't on a stage before," I said, and bit my lip.

Fuck it. If Adrian could fuck the Captain of the ship, I could sit on this goddamned piano. I flashed another grin at Dale, stepped up onto the bench and turned, sitting down on the top of the closed piano, dangling my legs over the keyboard, with my feet on the bench. I was a little scandalized by myself.

"I always wanted to imagine myself as a sexy lounge singer, draped over the piano," I admitted, running my hands suggestively over the lid. "Damn, this thing is solid as a rock," I added, looking down at the expanse of ebony wood.

"Well, every chanteuse needs a pianist then," Dale said quietly. He stepped up in front of me and looked in my eyes. I shut up and looked back. He slowly extended a hand and lifted up one of my knees, pushing the leg outward and setting it down gently again. His other hand followed, doing likewise with my other leg. He stepped over the little bench, where my feet now rested at either end, and sat down at the keyboard.

Did I mention that I was wearing a skirt that day? A fairly short one?

Dale just sat there, twiddling a few piano keys with his fingers, and let his eyes roam up and down between my eyes and my quite visible crotch, covered only by fairly insubstantial panties. Neither of us spoke as he kept touching a few random keys with one hand, and he lifted the other to trail the backs of his fingers up and down the inside of my thigh.

I shuddered. I shuddered deliciously. And that was before he leaned over to kiss the inside of my knee, slowly and softly.

As his eyes rose again, they held mine this time, and I felt rather than saw both his hands slide up under my legs. I instinctively lifted my ass, and he caressed it as he slid his grip underneath. He plucked the waistband at the back of my panties and tugged them toward him and down my legs. My knees were forced toward each other as my panties travelled down my thighs, but he lifted one leg free of the garment, setting it down once more, spread wide. He almost absently tugged the panties free of my other leg, which I had let splay back wide on my own.

The procedure had lifted my short skirt almost completely up, and for some reason I saw no need to shove it back into place. He kissed the inside of my knee once more, then slowly, agonizingly, he worked his way up my leg, a lip's thickness at a time.

By the time he was nearing my crotch, my whole body was quivering in anticipation. His progress ground to a halt, as he kissed my leg in the same small circle, like in a holding pattern. "Fuck, you are such a tease," I almost wailed. I wanted to grab his head and jam it against me, but he was driving right now, and I loved it as much as I was hating it.

I felt a kiss against my smooth lips down there. My quivering turned to shaking. His tongue flicked out and ran up a short section of my slit. I rocked forward infinitesimally. His tongue probed again... and I heard a little, melodious motif come from the piano. Dale's fingers were on the keys, not on me.

His tongue probed me, parting my eager lips with ease. I felt his taster sink into me, wriggling enchantingly. And the piano was playing jazz. Not some idle noodling, but a tune. A real one, that I recognized.

This sonofabitch could actually play the piano--well!

This sonofabitch could actually play jazz. No wonder he liked the club so much.

This sonofabitch could play jazz and simultaneously eat pussy... in a way that I had never quite been eaten before.

"Oh, Christ, Dale," I moaned, leaning back perilously and burying my fingers in his voluminous brown hair. His tongue only probed deeper into me. His upper lip was proving almost prehensile as it wobbled excruciatingly against my clit. I shouted wordlessly at that new wrinkle.

And he just kept playing the piano! Part of me wanted to demand that he cut that out and put his fingers to better use about a foot higher, but most of me was too enchanted by the experience to want him to stop. "You keep displaying hidden talents," I moaned. It was getting harder to talk as my breath kept getting shorter. "I can't imagine a better rendition of Take the V-Train," I managed.

He chuckled. "It's take the A-Train," he automatically corrected.

"I beg," I gasped, "to differ!"

That was the last coherent thing my voice could manage--my last coherent thought, really. Dale's tongue slid free of my insides and circled my clit.

My voice still had plenty to say, just none of it made sense, even to me, as waves of ecstasy started to roil inside me. My belly was undulating involuntarily like a belly-dancer's, and my hips vibrated like the piano strings beneath them. My fingers dug into Dale's hair hard, they had to, to keep me upright.

My gobbledygook crescendoed at least an octave higher than it had been a second before, as my orgasm took me completely. My only coherent thought was that I was about to pull Dale's beautiful hair out by the roots, and I let go. The problem with that was that I was leaning backward hard, and in the throes, my back was arching madly. Without Dale's head to keep me up, I flopped onto the piano top, bonking my head loudly on the lid.

The music stopped and Dale shot to his feet. "Oh God, Daisy! Are you okay?" he asked, panic almost instantly in his voice.

"Ow! Yeah," I laughed, contradicting myself. "Turns out... the piano lid is not as soft as... beach sand was on the... back of my head." It was hard to get the reassuring words out. The remaining energy from my not-quite-finished, interrupted orgasm was making its way free as a fit of the giggles.

"Are you sure?" Dale asked again, unwilling to be calmed. His hands waved around uncertainly, and his face, wrinkled in concern, was soaking wet. I of course found that hilarious.

"I'm... fine," I gasped between giggles that were veering uncontrollably toward guffaws. "I'm just not done... coming, you doofus!" And with that, I finally was. I gasped for air, rubbed the back of my head, which was not really that sore, and crooned happily. I did not have much in the way of muscle control, however, especially in my abdomen. I stuck a hand out to Dale, who was finally coming down off High Alert. "Pull me up so I can kiss you," I begged.

He grabbed my hand and gently helped me sit up, whereupon I grabbed his face and kissed all over its wet, sticky surface. He guided me against his lips and we kissed deeply. But he broke it off all too soon, and lifted me up and off the piano, setting me on my none-too-steady feet. I looked at him in query, and he laughed.

"I realized that you were probably about to start dripping down into the piano's insides, leaving my parents with a cleanup charge that I would have a hard time explaining to them!" We shared a grin at the concept.

I looked around the room, then pointedly at the white couch. "Speaking of cleanup charges, that couch might be a problem, considering certain dual desires you mentioned before. I see that you have lost none of your enthusiasm for them," I added, pointing at Dale's desperately hard cock.

"Yeah, but I hope you don't think that there isn't a big king-sized bed right through that door, right?" Dale said, sweeping his arm toward the double doors beyond the unfuckonable couch.

"Tell me more," I grinned.

Wordlessly, Dale bounced over to the doors and threw them wide. He gestured extravagantly into the next room, which on its own was twice the size of mine and Kimmie's. It did indeed contain a bed, and a mighty comfy-looking one at that. My eyes got a little fixated on that surface, and my ideas of what was hopefully about to happen to me upon it, and I was jerked up short in my approach by Dale's arm, barring my way.

"No, no! Suite rules: Only naked people in the bedroom," he said like a New York City club bouncer.

"Oh, that's the rule, is it?"

"It is now," Dale said, his doorman seriousness ruined by a smile that bordered between silly and puppy-dog eager. He did not wait for me to say anything else, letting his hands caress my chest lightly for a second or two before he began to unbutton my blouse, clearly not intending to let me put him off again. I just stood still and let him slide the blouse off my shoulders. As my hands escaped my sleeves, I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, letting it hang loose over my breasts for him to remove.

His hands slid slowly up by belly, and under the loose cups. His fingers caressed my curves up to the aching nipples surmounting them, teasing my nubs by rolling them between his fingertips. I hunched my shoulders, and the straps slid free. Dale turned his hands to pull the light little brassiere away from me, tossing it onto my blouse on the floor. He kissed me as his fingers searched for, found, and slid down the zipper of my skirt. It slid free and puddled at my ankles. He gazed at me for a few seconds, then kissed me again before whispering in my ear, "You can keep those fucking sexy shoes on."

That suited me, the espadrille platform shoes made my legs look great without making my feet hurt.

"So," Dale said, grinning. "You've enjoyed having me naked while you were still dressed. Now we are both naked..."

"Except for my shoes," I put in.

"Except for those awesome shoes," Dale allowed. "Which condition, me naked or both of us naked, do you prefer?"

"Well..." I said, smiling wickedly. "You sure as hell showed me how entertaining the former condition could be. What have you got for our current one?"

He looked at me for almost two seconds before he reached out and swept me up into his arms, carrying me through the doors and into the bedroom. I whooped a little, and pressed my chest against him.

In the back of my mind, I was impressed with his strength, which was greater than I'd have expected from looking at him. I'm not short, and while slender in places, I am anything but a twig, yet he only wobbled a little as he carried me.

His shins bumped the foot of the bed and he suddenly tossed me down onto it. The mattress felt the same as the one in my cabin, and I bounced lightly as I fell upon it. He leaned over and crawled up onto the bed after me. With a grin, I crab-walked backward away from him until my head reached the headboard. Dale followed relentlessly, until he was on his hands and knees over me.