Voyage of Discovery

There are some people who will say what happened was wrong, but in all honesty no matter how often I tell myself it was, I just can't bring myself to see it that way. I can't really say why or how it happened, only that it did happen. And I know it will almost certainly happen again.

Actually that's not quite true. I do know why it happened. It happened because life was so damned ordered and predictable.

Paul and I grew up a couple of houses from each other in a typical middle class suburb. Neither he nor I were very confident around strangers in our younger days, so it was natural that we be drawn together. Despite Mum and Dad sometimes privately sniggering about the excessively prudish way Paul's mother dressed, and her close lipped attitude to what she referred to as 'personal matters', our parents were best friends, and it was generally assumed that one day Paul and Kate would become Mr. and Mrs. After all, that seemed to be the natural order of things. To be honest I don't even remember any proposal or acceptance, only that shortly after our eighteenth birthdays we were standing at the altar exchanging vows.

Even our wedding night was ordered and orderly. As the reception wound down, the guests formed a circle and we moved round accepting congratulations and thanking each of them for sharing the occasion, before finally escaping to the apartment our parents had arranged for us. In all the years we had been an item, even after it was officially decided we would marry, Paul had never once made any improper advances beyond an acceptably chaste kiss, and now that the time had come my nervousness was tempered with anticipation. I turned my back for him to unfasten my wedding gown, and then I stepped out of it and tossed it on a chair.

Removing my underwear I turned to face him expectantly, but instead of coming to me he picked up a hanger and handed it to me with a pointed glance at my gown. He stood waiting with his eyes averted until I sighed with exasperation and hung the gown in the wardrobe, and then he went into the bathroom, returning wearing pyjamas and carrying a large towel on top of his meticulously folded clothes. Pulling back the bedcovers he spread the towel on the sheet, before opening the drawer of my dresser and handing me a nightgown.

Biting my lip in disappointment at being denied my first much anticipated look at my naked husband, and, of course, at my first ever look at a penis, I pulled on the nightdress and lay on the spread towel. Carefully he folded the hem of my nightie to my hips, then parted my legs and looked briefly at my vagina. I held my breath, waiting for the touch of his fingers, but he merely moved over me and freed his penis from his pyjamas before thrusting it into me. I had expected some pain with the loss of my virginity, so I was relieved to experience only a slight twinge, and then he was moving in and out rapidly. The discomfort faded, and I was in the transitional moment between finding the act pleasant and finding it pleasing, when his gasp told me he had ejaculated. He withdrew immediately, then kissed me lightly.

"Thank you dear. Get some sleep now, goodnight."

Pulling the covers over us both he rolled off me and promptly went to sleep. I lay for several minutes, sure that there must be more to it than that, and then climbed out of bed to wipe between my legs, dropping the soiled towel in the wash basket before cleaning myself properly and returning to bed. It took me a little while to get to sleep, because I was baffled as to why he hadn't fondled my breasts or touched my vagina other than to enter me, and he had rejected my one attempt to hold his penis. Eventually I began to wonder if perhaps the only reason he had done anything at all was that, like our getting married, it was more or less expected. There had certainly been no fireworks, or even a spark, although in all fairness, since we had both been virgins I wasn't entirely sure that either of us was aware that there could be.

I had always known he was, to put it mildly, conservative, but in the ensuing months I was to discover how sexually repressed he was also. He was clearly uncomfortable discussing the subject, declaring that the act itself, although admittedly nature driven and therefore at times unavoidable, was disrespectful to a woman. The thought of caressing a female body intimately appeared to make him uncomfortable, and the concept that a woman might gain pleasure from fondling a penis was unthinkable. On the few occasions I appeared outside the bedroom in my underwear, he was quick to rebuke me for flaunting myself.

Over the next five years we dropped into a routine. Although it was far from being a loveless marriage, because I was sure we loved each other in our own ways, it was certainly a marriage devoid of lust. It may seem harsh, but to describe Paul as 'imaginative' or 'adventurous' in bed would be a gross over exaggeration. The best that could be said for him is that he was 'steady' and 'reliable' not to mention totally predictable. That is not to say that he wasn't a good husband in every other way. He was kind and attentive and generous to a fault, but nothing could convince him that I might consider any physical approach not only acceptable, but welcome.

The truth was Paul only had two passions. His work and his music. He was an extraordinarily skilled guitarist, and would spent at least an hour each evening practicing behind the closed door of the spare room. Despite his talent he rejected any suggestions that he join a band, arguing that to do so would necessitate many late nights, which was out of the question since he was accustomed to going to bed at ten thirty each night.

After our first time alone together he showed little further interest in looking at my vagina, almost as though having seen it once there was no further need. Of course there was no way that he could avoid seeing my breasts when I undressed for bed, and perhaps once a month he would ask me to fetch a towel to avoid soiling the sheets, then switch out the lights and pull himself over me to do his duty, and then go to sleep, leaving me to use my fingers to furtively finish what he had started. I can't honestly say I resented the way things were, because it was all I knew, and as the saying goes, you can't miss what you never had.

His work in real estate provided more than enough income for him to insist that, as the breadwinner, it was his responsibility to take care of me and the household running costs, and that my own earnings were mine to do with as I pleased. I worked as an order clerk for a biscuit manufacturer, which mostly entailed taking orders over the phone, although sometimes I was called on to fill in for representatives who were absent or on leave. The only real difference in the work was that instead of sitting at a desk, I could get out and visit the customers armed with their sales patterns and check the shelves, making a note on an order pad of what stocks were running low.

As our fifth wedding anniversary approached I decided to put my savings to good use, and as we sat in our favourite restaurant celebrating the occasion, I presented him with two tickets for a four week twenties and thirties sea cruise. He protested at the expense until I pointed out that it was my money to use as I chose, and then he made excuses about work commitments, but when I insisted he agreed to seek time off work. This was to prove easier than he expected, since I had already brought the real estate agency in on the plan. Two weeks later we flew from Melbourne to Sydney to meet the ship. As we boarded little did I know that my life was about to change forever.

After depositing our baggage in the cabin assigned to us, we went back on deck to watch the crew cast off. We watched Sydney harbour recede into the distance until we were summoned to dinner. Sharing our table in the dining room were a couple of men a little older than Paul and myself. We introduced ourselves and discovered that the pair were work mates who had won a modest prize in a lottery and decided to splurge on a cruise. Tall and gangling with a face too 'lived in' to be considered particularly attractive, Steve made up for this with an easy going manner which made him easy to like, whilst everything about Karl shouted 'average'. During an excellent meal we learned that our dining companions shared the cabin next to ours, so it was easy to figure out that seating was arranged on a corresponding basis.

After the meal we parted company with our new companions, and Paul and I went for a stroll to familiarise ourselves as much as possible, returning to our cabin shortly after ten pm. Fitted with twin bunks, which I hadn't realised when I made the booking, the cabin was rather too cramped to be comfortable, but since it was only designed for sleeping I shrugged it off. I was a little disappointed of course because I had been hoping that the sea air and relaxation might make Paul a little more adventurous. He didn't appear to be the slightest bit put out though, merely remarking that since I was often awake long after he was asleep he would take the top bunk, so that I wouldn't wake him.

When we undressed for bed he pulled the covers down on my bunk. "Fetch a towel please dear." Resigning myself to the usual disappointment I did as he asked, and lay down with my legs parted, half hoping that he would at least be inspired to look at my vagina or even my breasts. Needless to say he simply turned out the light as usual and fumbled his penis into me. Less than ten minutes later he kissed my cheek, and with a muttered "Thank you dear. Goodnight," he climbed into his own bunk. As I slid my hand between my legs, I told myself that sleeping apart for the next three months meant I had the consolation of not having to be discreet about finishing myself off, and for the first time in our marriage I came close to a climax.

The next morning at breakfast our dining companions were just finishing when we arrived, and were discussing plans for the day, which seemed to centre mostly on lounging around the swimming pool. When Karl suggested we join them I looked at Paul, who gave a non committal shrug. "You paid for the tickets, so I suppose it's up to you to decide how you get value for money."

Our first night on board had been a disappointment, and now, stung by both his remark and his tone, I snapped a reply. "Look Paul, this cruise is for both of us, not just for me. We are supposed to be a couple, but if you want to take that attitude, so be it. I didn't twist your arm to force you to come. You can please yourself, but I'm going to sit by the pool." Without waiting for a response I stood up from the table, and ignoring the just served breakfast I returned to the cabin, acknowledging a friendly smile from an attendant pushing a laden linen trolley.

Knowing that my husband would almost certainly disapprove, but hoping that I would somehow be able to talk him round, I had bought a pair of not too short shorts just for our trip, and in my present mood I dug them out. 'This will show him,' I thought as I drew them up my legs. I was about to pull on a tee shirt, then I paused. 'To hell with him, I'm here to relax and let my hair down.' Inwardly shocked at my boldness, I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra, and before my courage failed I donned the shirt and took the lift up to the pool area on the top deck, secretly pleased at the way my unrestrained breasts jiggled.

There was no sign of the guys at the pool, so I dropped in to a deck chair to watch the horseplay, envious of the unselfconscious way most of the girls paraded themselves in the briefest of swimwear. Not that there wasn't plenty to please the eyes of the girls. Within minutes the amount of skin on view made me forget that by Paul's standards I was as good as naked. A touch on my shoulder made me look round to see Karl and Steve, just as a beach ball thrown from the pool struck my chest. The latter kicked the ball back into the water and the two friends stood grinning at me. Or I should say they were grinning at part of me.

"Now that's a definite improvement," Steve quipped. I followed the direction of his eyes and felt myself blushing. There was a large wet patch where the ball had struck my right breast, and to my horror the light brown surround of my nipple was clearly outlined through the thin shirt. As casually as I could I draped a forearm across my chest as the guys dropped to the ground on each side of me, and Steve continued his banter. "Aw why did you have to spoil the best view around here?" For a fleeting instant, I had a feeling of pleasure mixed with resentment. If a stranger thought my breast was worth looking at, why couldn't my husband think so? A barely audible whistle from Karl distracted me.

"Holy shit mate, look at the tits on that!" A hugely over endowed redhead, her enormous breasts straining at a bikini top that looked at least three sizes too small, walked past flanked by a couple of guys who were openly ogling her assets. I stared in disbelief, almost embarrassed for her. The three miniscule triangles of material seemed barely enough to preserve the modesty of a mosquito, and yet she was clearly basking in the attention she was attracting.

Steve feasted his eyes for several moments, then nudged me playfully. "Tell you what Karl, that's what I call a cossie, but her knockers are too big for it. If she took the top off we'd get killed in the fallout. I reckon it would look better on young Kate here."

I shook my head "My husband would never let me wear anything like that. He'd have a fit if he saw what I'm wearing now."

They both looked at me in amazement and Karl said. "You're kidding? If I had a wife with a body like yours I'd want every guy in the world to look at it just to make them jealous!"

His friend nodded in agreement and gestured towards the pool. "This lot are showing ten times as much as you and you still make a lot of them look pretty average."

I knew they were only saying it to make me feel good, but the important thing was it was working. Nobody had ever before told me I was attractive, not even Paul, and it was indescribably good to finally hear it even if they didn't mean it. At that moment Steve looked past me and grinned. "About time you got here Paul. Your little lady has been lonely without you." He pulled a vacant chair alongside mine. "Have a seat and you can hold hands. I'm going for a splash. Come on Karl, let's leave the lovebirds together."

Paul looked me over as he dropped into the chair, then said bluntly. "I'm not sure I like you dressing like that."

I felt my anger rising, but I kept my voice level. "Paul, this is a swimming pool, how do you expect me to dress? Look around you. I must be the most overdressed woman here. What the hell is wrong with you?" All of my built up resentment bubbled to the surface. "We've been married five years and we've never been naked together. I must be the only married woman in history who doesn't know what her husband's cock looks like. I booked this cruise so we could get away and enjoy ourselves, but if you don't want to that's your problem. I'm not going to spend the next month cooped up. In fact whether you approve or not, I'm going to buy myself a proper swimsuit, maybe even a bikini, and if men look at my tits so be it. Just think yourself lucky I'm not showing them my cunt, Christ knows you don't want to see it!" Ignoring the shocked look on his face, I rose and stalked off.

I spent the next couple of hours browsing the on board shopping strip, looking at anything that would take my mind off the scene by the pool. I couldn't believe the way I had turned on Paul, but nothing I had said could be taken back even if I wanted to, and anyway most of it had been true. Maybe some of it would sink in and make him change his attitude, but I doubted it. He was too set in his ways. Recalling what I said about swimsuits, I stopped a passing crew member who directed me to a small boutique. I looked first at the one piece suits, then shook my head resolutely. That would be too much of a compromise, and the mood I was in compromise was out of the question. I picked out half a dozen bikinis and headed for the fitting room.

Stripping off my tee shirt I studied my breasts in the mirror, for the first time wondering how they looked to a man. Judging by the way Steve and Karl had stared at the wet patch on my tee shirt earlier, maybe they really were worth seeing. I had been embarrassed at the time, but on reflection I had to admit I had enjoyed them looking at my outlined nipple. My palms brushed briefly across the soft buds, and I smiled as they began to rise. If the guys had liked what they had seen before, I had no doubt that they would like what I was looking at even more. I pushed the thought from my mind. I was a respectable married woman, and respectable married women didn't have thoughts of men other than their husbands looking at them.

One by one I tried on the bikini tops, giggling at one of them but knowing I would have to reject it. No matter how daring I may feel, I wasn't brave enough for something that was more string than fabric. The two narrow strips of material were barely wide enough to cover my nipples, and holding the bottoms against me I suspected that if I opened my legs too far the tiny triangle would disappear into my slit. Eventually I settled for a demure pale tangerine two piece set that covered all but the upper slopes of my breasts, whilst not showing too much cleavage. Health regulations prohibited trying on any form of panties before purchase, so I could only hope the briefs wouldn't be too revealing.

After paying at the counter, I hurried to our cabin eager to see myself wearing the full set. Locking the door behind me I stripped and pulled the briefs up my legs, a little disconcerted to discover they were briefer than I had thought. I donned the bra then studied the overall effect, smiling with satisfaction. The edges of my bush were visible, but that was nothing a quick trim wouldn't remedy. After snipping away with nail scissors I pulled a face. I'd clipped as close as I could, but the remaining stubble seemed to draw the eye even more than the hairs. Rummaging in Paul's toiletry bag I took out his razor, and slipping out of the briefs I stood in front of the mirror carefully working on the offending foliage.

It was more difficult than I had anticipated shaping an even triangle, and the more I tried the less symmetrical the result. By the time I was through all that was left was an inch wide strip that did little to conceal my lower lips. In fact on closer scrutiny it wasn't difficult to make out the vertical dividing fissure. My pulse began to race at the thought of Paul's reaction if he saw how it looked, but I shrugged it off. He wasn't likely to see it anyway, and besides I found it quite exciting. I hadn't really looked at my vagina properly since the onset of puberty and now the thought intrigued me. Again my rebellious mood took over. If he was likely to disapprove of what I'd done, I may as well make him really mad. A few more strokes of the razor and I was as bald as the day I was born. Running my hand over the exotic smoothness, I was surprised at how sensuous it felt, and how readily the lips parted. Before I could give in to the sudden urge the call came for lunch, and I quickly pulled on a pair of panties. I reached for my bra and hesitated. The freedom of unrestrained breasts had been enjoyable, and a little exciting, so I tucked the bra under my pillow and slipped on a floral dress.

Paul was already seated when I entered the dining room, and he nodded curtly as I sat beside him. We ate in uncomfortable silence for a while, then he looked at the dress I was wearing. "That's better."