Voyage of Self Discovery Ch. 12

"Mmmm... yesss... mmmm," I moaned.

"And you'd like me to keep working that clit of yours, making you cum as you lie there in your lover's arms," Tanya continued.

"Yesss... yesss..." I responded, barely reacting to the idea that Sandy was now my lover.

It seemed though that Sandy herself did react. Not only did I have four fingers and a thumb wedged into my opening, not only did I have Tanya toying with my clit, but now I had Sandy blindly working her hands against my soft full breasts. She was massaging the pillowy mounds, rubbing what was left of the creamy cum deposits into my soft skin, making me gasp as she inadvertently caught my rock-hard nipples.

"Close your eyes, Bablee," Tanya whispered, her words drifting towards me just like the first time I met her down in the spa.

"Relax your body. Focus your mind on nothing more than my fingers on your sensitive clit," Tanya continued. "Do you feel them, Bablee? Do you feel how they stoke the fires inside?"

"Mmmm," I moaned again, as my breathing started to deepen once more.

Tanya continued to tease her fingers over my clit. Sandy continued to work at my breasts. Once more, my moans became more passionate, and my breathing quickened. I was no longer thinking of the hand in my pussy. My focus was on the fires burning deep within, threatening all the time to explode into a raging inferno.

Tanya took it as her cue.

It was time to see if I would take the rest of her hand.

This time Tanya went for smaller yet faster movements, practically wiggling her hand against my opening. My moans, as Tanya worked her hand further into my pussy, took on a strained edge but all the time remained passionate. Slowly, imperceptibly, Tanya's hand disappeared into my tight sex. All the while, Tanya kept up her torment on my clit, ensuring the smouldering fires of orgasm were becoming stronger and stronger, distracting me from the final push.

Tanya glanced down at her hand. She was at the widest point. She stepped up the pace a little, rotating as she wiggled, watching as...

It happened so quickly. I gave a loud moan, a gasp more of pleasure than pain as I felt the pressure give slightly on my opening, as I felt a most intense fullness fill my pussy.

For anyone watching, the sight bordered on the obscene. Here I was, a cum-splattered mother, lying back in the arms of somebody young enough to be my daughter, legs splayed wide with another woman's arm stuck up my sodden sex. I couldn't see for myself, but my imagination told me just what a sight I must have been.

For a moment, none of us moved. Tanya held her hand still. Sandy had, in reaction to my last moan, reverted to her soft embrace, arms wrapped snuggly around my naked body. I just lay there, getting used to the hugeness up inside.

Slowly, little by little, I started to smile.

"Did I?" I asked.

"You did," Tanya responded.

"All of it?"

"Every last inch. Can you feel my hand inside your tight pussy?"

Tanya did not wait for a response. With her hand now impaled, obscenely, in my pussy, it was time to make me cum, time to give me my true reward.

Her movements were short and quick, a rocking rather than a thrusting motion, making her hand slide against my tight pussy walls, pushing me quickly towards the point of no return.

In no time at all, I was screaming with delight, the fullness of the hand in my pussy and the continued attention to my clit, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. I could feel every movement deep inside, my walls stretched tight around the invading hand.

It was so tight.

It was so intense.

It was so pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

I knew it. I could feel the fires, the inferno raging in my loins. I could feel my tight walls clamp even harder against her hand, trying to, but not managing to hold her still, to put an end to the torment.

Tanya knew it also, and she wasn't about to stop.

I was panting hard.

My moans were pained as I felt ripple after ripple of orgasm pass through me, each stronger than the last.

I stiffened as I felt the first true wave run over me, flooding my mind with pleasure.

Sandy clamped her arms down against me, pulling me even closer into her young body.

Still Tanya didn't stop. She was working her hand in my pussy, rocking ever faster as she drove me towards my release. I was gasping for breath such was the onslaught on my pussy. My moans were short and ragged, as I felt those fires start to explode, an inferno of pure ecstasy filling my body.

Once more I stiffened.

This time I arched my back as a second even larger wave washed over me.

And then there was quiet. I bit my lip. I held my breath. The only sound was the squish of lube as Tanya worked my tight pussy.

It didn't last.

With a scream louder than Sandy's earlier climax, I announced my release.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

How long had it been? I wasn't sure. The room was now quiet. I thought I had heard footsteps, but was it people leaving or arriving? Were we now alone, just me and Sandy?

I was lying there up against the young Sandy. I knew that. I could feel her arms wrapped around me. I could also feel my wetness down below, and a sort of stickiness coating much of my naked skin.

Yes, this time I did hear them, a single pair of stilettoes heading towards us.

"Ladies," a soft voice called out.

It was Lexy, the mistress for my newbie colleague.

"You were fantastic. I've never seen a performance quite like it. Now, how about we get those blindfolds off? Close your eyes though, it'll take a few minutes to adjust."

Moments later, the blindfolds were removed.

"Take your time," Lexy continued. "We'll wait for you in the cabins. I'm sure you'll want to freshen up before you get changed again. Oh, and here's a couple of gowns... black ones just like the shirts... you've certainly earned them."

Lexy had been right. Even with the dimmed illumination of the bar, it took a few minutes to become accustomed to the light, adjusting from the blackness of earlier. As we lay there, with nothing else to fill your mind, the smell took over your senses. The room was filled with the aroma of sex, a heady mix of stale semen and sweet love juices, most of which came from our two naked bodies.

As shapes came back into focus, I became sure we were alone, just me and Sandy, lying there on the raised stage. I had been right about the plastic sheet. It covered the low stage, a not surprising addition given the way it was now splattered with creamy jizz. The two machines which had so perfectly, yet cruelly, pushed us to the point of submission, sat on top, two wooden stools just in front. God they were so effective, I thought to myself, looking at the pool of liquid surrounding the base of what I assumed had been Sandy's ride.

Sandy?

I was forgetting my partner in crime, my fellow newbie, my... I had to admit it, my feelings had changed. When I first caught sight of the young woman, I had her down as a sexy little bitch, but I had learned so much in this afternoon.

Still, Sandy held me close.

Still, I could feel her chest rise and fall beneath my body.

"Sandy," I whispered.

"Mmmm," came a half sleepy reply.

"Are you okay, Sandy?" I asked. "You seemed so scared, and then you screamed so loud."

"I screamed loud? What about you? I thought they were torturing you."

I laughed. It was one way of putting it, but at the same time, if it was torture it was a most pleasurable form of torture.

Slowly I sat up. I ached all over, but that didn't seem to matter. All I could think of was the ecstasy which still clouded my mind. For the first time I looked directly at my new colleague, then down at myself. We were both a mess, not surprising given what we had been through. That said, Sandy was still one beautiful woman, one beautiful young woman. I had to know. I had to ask.

"How old are you, Sandy?"

"Twenty... almost twenty-one," Sandy replied. "Why?"

"No reason. It's just, well, you're the same age as my own daughter. I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are you doing here, Sandy? On a place like this?"

There was a pause before Sandy responded, a sheepish look on her face.

"I guess... well... the same as you, Bablee... trying to make ends meet."

I laughed. It was true. I was only here because I needed the money. The fact I could enjoy myself at the same time as filling the coffers, was a bonus, a most unexpected bonus.

"Well, Sandy... I guess we're both now part of the crew. Oh, and from what I heard, you're gonna go a long way."

"If I can go half as far as you, I'd be more than happy. Did you really take her whole fist? I was so scared when she suggested it."

I leaned forward and placed my lips against hers. Sandy reciprocated. My heart softened for the young woman. She might have been a mess, but she had the softest lips, she said the sweetest things, she was just like the daughter I missed so much.

"Hopefully, I'll see you around," I added.

"You can bank on that. I've got so much to learn from you," Sandy replied, smiling.

"But..." I started to protest my lack of experience, my still learning as I went, but decided against it. "Come on, my girl. I think it's time we get cleaned up."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just like the rest of the crew, I stood there on the deck as we watched the latest group of passengers saunter on board. This time was a little different to last. I smiled. I waved. I welcomed men and women alike. It was amazing what the confidence of a black shirt did to you, especially when you had such good company.

To the side of me was Melodee, my mistress, my mentor, my confidante.

Across the way was Sandy, my fellow newbie, my daughter in crime.

As we set sail, I headed down to the bar. There was a different smile on Dave's face as I walked into Swingers then headed towards that little room behind the bar, the one where plans were made, and fantasies arranged.

"Why, hello Bablee," Dave gave a cheery welcome. "Back for more?"

I smiled. It was a clear reference to the day before, but I didn't mind. There was a black shirt's agreement. What went on at the initiation, stayed at the initiation. There might be hints, even suggestions, but never did you divulge just what happened before we rode the high seas. I must have done okay though, as no longer did he call me Babble. I now had the respect I deserved.

I sat down at the computer and logged on. True to his word, there were two of us at the top of the league table, both level on three points. I smiled. I was ahead, alphabetically at least, and I was going to enjoy trying to stay there. First though, I had a few preferences to update.

I ran my eyes down the list. A warmth flooded through me as I put a yes next to FISTING.

"Hey, Bablee," a fellow black shirt called out as the door closed behind him. "You were awesome yesterday. What a performance."

Performance?

I glanced to the bottom of the list. I'd already put a yes against PERFORMANCE, but now I knew what it meant. I might not have seen our performance, but for sure I had enjoyed it, and I knew we had rocked the boat that afternoon.

If truth be known, I could have given a yes to BUKKAKE also, but first I needed to know what the word meant.

Not bad for a middle-aged mother, was it?

I'd come so far in such a short time. From that very first encounter with Paul, reluctantly letting him work his fingers against my pussy, making me cum through my jeans, all the way to yesterday's most uninhibited display of exhibitionism.

I was now a member of the crew, a fully initiated black shirt, and I didn't regret one minute of it.

What's more, I now had a full three weeks ahead of me, time to do nothing but ride the seas, time to do nothing but keep myself at the top of that leader board. I remembered Melodee saying something about there being a reward for the top male and female performers at the end of the cruise. Hell yes, if that reward was half as good as my earlier one, then I was going to go for it, all guns blazing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was my darling husband who bought me this notebook, leather bound with gold trimmings, as an homage to my fifty years. It was my darling husband who also suggested I put it to good use. He even bought the pen that I have been using to write my memoirs. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember that it is a real story and one in which I was the centre of all attention.

I turned the last page and stared at the golden inner cover. I'd had as much fun writing about my journey as I'd had living it. There was so much more I could write; about Melodee, about my quest to find the lover with the shaven balls, about Sandy--oh god yes, that twenty-first birthday party was something else--about my voyage of self-discovery, and whether I did earn myself a second reward.

All I needed was another notebook.

The End (of that notebook, at least)