Dark Tide

by Ben Boswell

  “Is this okay?” he asked.

  “God yes,” she moaned.

  “Good,” he groaned as he pulled out and hammered hard into her.

  She nearly fell over. He reached out and caught a thick handful of her long, blond hair. Winding the strands around his palm, he held her tight as he thrust into her again.

  She gasped and staggered a bit. She moved her feet apart to stabilize her stance. He placed his hand on her lower back, bending her at the waist, arching her body. His thick thumb slipped between her ass cheeks.

  He slammed into her again. She groaned, but her body had settled into a stable equilibrium. Her entered her again, and again, faster and faster.

  He fucked her like that in perfect 4/4 time, each measure punctuated by her lusty exclamations.

  Slam, slam, slam, slam. “Oh, God.”

  Slam, slam, slam, slam. “Oh, fuck.”

  She continued like that, impressively alternating sacred and profane.

  And he was like a machine. A well-oiled, perfectly calibrated fucking machine, giving her long, deep, hard strokes even as he easily held her in place.

  He accelerated to half notes, eight strokes per measure. She lost the ability to speak, just gasping now. Still there was no doubt that she was enjoying it. Her body glistened and shook, but even through her gasps, her face was glowing with pleasure.

  I’d never seen her look as sexy. The curve of her body, the jiggle of her flesh as his thrusts transmitted through her. Her big breasts jiggled wildly, her nipples harder and longer than I’d ever seen them.

  I longed to rush to her, kneel before her and suck her tits into my mouth as he fucked her. But I resisted. That would be a distraction, and I didn’t want anything to get in the way of her enjoyment. She was getting the fuck of a lifetime. She’d surely go to her deathbed thinking fondly and lustily about it, and I wasn’t going to do anything to break the spell.

  Faster still. Quarter notes. The rat-a-tat-tat of flesh on flesh. Speed metal. Her torso was arched into a C, a shape only an experienced dancer could maintain for more than a moment. Any hint that she was in pain belied by the look of bliss on her face as she stared upward at the starry sky through heavy-lidded eyes.

  Her mouth opened into a silent cry and her eyelids began to flutter. A tremor seemed to spreads from her belly until it engulfed her entire body.

  “Ohhh gaawwdd!” she cried out in a delayed response.

  She tried to remain standing, but even with Reg’s help, she slowly crumbled to the deck. She twisted her torso and grasped at his legs to keep from collapsing entirely, completing the fetishist tableau: a beautiful white woman, her long blond hair disheveled, arms wrapped around the muscular legs of a powerful black man and staring awestruck up at him and his hard, glistening, ebony cock.

  She quickly caught her breath and shifted into another erotic set-piece. Up on her knees, she took the head of his cock into her mouth and with both hands stroked his long, thick shaft, harder, harder, brooking no misunderstanding. She wanted his come, and she wanted it now.

  He obliged. With a low grunt he shot a rope of come into her mouth. It was too much for her to handle. She recoiled slightly as a second, third, fourth heavy rope of jism laced across her pretty face.

  Their reciprocal orgasms had broken the frenzy, but they both seemed more than a little taken aback by the passion they’d shared. Jennifer in particular was staring up at him zombie-like as his come ran down her face and began dripping on her heaving boobs.

  I cleared my throat and approached. She looked at me shell-shocked as I helped her to her feet. Reg handed me her robe and I gingerly walked her off the bridge. She was unsteady, trembling a little, covered suddenly in perspiration.

  I brushed the hair from her eyes and found a clean patch of skin on her forehead not glistening from his come. I kissed her gently there.

  “That was the most beautiful and amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered softly as I walked her into our cabin.

  ***

  She recovered enough to shower on her own. I climbed into bed and relived the scene in my mind. It was actually a little hard to imagine that she could have enjoyed it. It seemed so rough, almost impersonal, and yet there had been no denying the look on her face, the response of her body.

  I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it. She stumbled into bed, freshly washed, but still barely conscious. I think she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  It was just as well. Although I would have loved some relief, I think a common sense rule of comparison came into play. Just as you don’t want to stand too close to George Clooney on a red carpet or compare bank statements with Bill Gates, it’s probably best not to make love to your wife immediately after she’s been banged into a stupor by Captain Reginald Wallace.

  I know it is going to seem odd, but when I was first fantasizing about Jennifer and our ebony host, I didn’t much think about what might happen after. Truth is, I didn’t really think it would happen, and then I sort of got caught up in the rush of things. But that night, I was left a little reeling. Mostly in a good way. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Jennifer how hot it had been, but also, for the first time I had this little, weird, gnawing sensation that things might never quite be the same between us after, that getting fucked like that was maybe the sort of thing that might change a woman. Not that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy sex with me or anything idiotic like that, but rather that she might not be willing to go without another session like that at some point.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. How would I feel if, one day, Jennifer came to me and said she wanted it again, that she needed to experience that sensation of being so thoroughly fucked that it left her literally dazed? The thought was weirdly both hot and, well, frightening.

  Chapter Nine

  My one regret in not speaking to her before we fell asleep was that we hadn’t had time to discuss next steps. We were not back on dry land yet, so by the terms of my promise, it was still completely up to her. But it would have been nice to know anyway.

  I didn’t actually have long to wait. I was up before her and had gone out on deck for breakfast. Thom was refilling my rum coffee when my wife appeared. Unflappable up until that point, Thom nearly spilled the coffee in my lap before he caught himself.

  I couldn’t blame him. Jennifer had definitely gone too far, though I had to admit the effect was fetching. Having decided that translucent white and mesh were too conservative, my wife had broken out a teeny, tiny, butt-floss string bikini. Yellow, it consisted of three sheer pieces of fabric, an inch-wide strip that framed rather than covered up her cameltoe, and two triangles that barely, just barely, okay, not quite fully, covered her areolas.

  She grinned at our reactions and waved away our open-mouthed leers with a hand gesture that seemed to say, What, this little old thing?

  She sat down and Thom fumbled to fill her cup, bend slightly at the waist, angled awkwardly away from us to hide his hard-on. He retreated quickly. So much for getting a refill, I thought.

  When he was gone, I leaned in close. “I love it. But you do remember what I said about the limits of my ability to keep things in control, right?”

  She peered at me over her aviators. “I have faith in you,” she replied.

  Oh God. “Um, sweety, I topped out as an orange belt in judo… when I was nine.”

  “You must have been so cute.”

  “Yes, especially when Becky Moran pinned me and then everyone teased me that I got beat by a girl.”

  She gave me a sympathetic head nod. “Girls are often stronger at that age.”

  “She was six,” I deadpanned.

  But before we could continue to hone our George and Gracie routine, I noticed Reg stalking over to us.

  “Uh oh, someone’s going to get a talking to about proper shipboard attire,” I warned.

  “I hope he doesn’t feel the need to spank me,” she replied.

  My cock twitched. Yes, that’s where w
e were.

  But on closer look, he didn’t seem angry, just amused. He nodded at me and then leaned down and gave my wife a lingering kiss on the cheek. A streak of jealousy surged through me, and then just as quickly subsided. I couldn’t really expect him to continue to play a hapless victim of my wife’s seduction. He was a proud man, and this was his ship, and he was done pretending otherwise.

  He sat down with us. He smiled. “That is… quite the outfit. Do you have plans for the day that I should know about?”

  “Just to have a little fun,” she replied.

  He nodded. A pause. “Well, since I know you’re both open minded, I wonder if I might make a proposal?”

  Jennifer shot me a curious look. This is an interesting turn.

  “What sort of proposal?” I asked.

  He smiled at me, smoothly refocusing his attention from her to me, including me in the discussion, mitigating the threat.

  “It’s a little awkward, and I don’t want to give offense,” he began, looking from me to my wife and back again. “And of course, please don’t hesitate to say no, but after the last two evenings, I think you might find this interesting.”

  Even in her string bikini, I suspected my wife was overdressed for the coming proposition.

  When we didn’t stop him, Reg resumed. “I don’t know if you know, but today is my nephew Denny’s birthday. He’s nineteen.”

  I suppressed a groan. I’d expected better than a trumped up birthday as an excuse to procure a hummer for his nephew. I glanced over at Jennifer who also seemed to be feigning continued interest.

  He plowed ahead. “He’s also about to be married. His bachelor party is actually the Saturday after we return.”

  A bit more interesting. Jennifer as the entertainment at a bachelor party. Unfortunately… or fortunately, we’d be on a plane back out west by then.

  “The thing is,” he continued, “Denny has, ah, never been with a woman.”

  Jennifer giggled. “A virgin? I don’t believe that. He’s so…”

  She blushed. It was cute and a little puzzling to see where her sense of shame kicked in.

  Reg shrugged. “It’s a small community, you know. Everyone knows everyone. Despite the sun and bikinis,” he flashed an appreciative smile at my wife’s barely-there suit, “girls are very protective of their reputation, and we’re a respectable family.”

  So no whores. But nothing untoward about propositioning married tourists apparently.

  He seemed to read my mind. “You have to admit, this is a bit of a special case.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Jennifer prompted.

  He squared up in her direction and smiled. “It does seem you have an adventurous nature, and I thought you might find it interesting to instruct a young man on how to please a woman. He’s, ah, quite smitten with you, and I’m sure would make an attentive pupil. I’m sure his future bride would be quite grateful.”

  Jennifer laughed. “Not if she found out.”

  He nodded and then extended his hand toward the unbroken expanse of blue-green water. “That’s the beauty of being out at sea. No one ever has to know.”

  She smiled. “Let me discuss it with my husband.”

  My stomach did a flip. She wouldn’t have said that if she wasn’t at least a little interested.

  He seemed to make the same assessment and returned an even brighter smile. He rose. “Of course.”

  She turned to me and again peered over her mirrored lens.

  “From that look,” I said, “I’m guessing this is a particular fantasy of yours?”

  “Not even really worth mentioning. It’s like men and the thought of two women at once.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why do you think all those school teachers get in trouble for doing it?”

  “I admit, I’ve never gotten the attraction. High school boys, as I recall, are pimply and smelly.”

  She smirked. “Denny seemed to be neither. But come on, you’ve never fantasized about having a pretty young thing, fawning all over you, asking her to initiate you into the rites of passion?”

  “Sounds like you’re describing us when we first met.”

  She chuckled. “You think he’s really a virgin?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? He probably isn’t very experienced even if he isn’t. I mean, if he were a full-blown stud, he’d have made a run at you on his own, no?”

  “Or at least wouldn’t keep himself hidden away as much as he has,” she added.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s been hiding away because he’s been jerking off thinking of you every spare moment.”

  “Are you trying to turn me off or turn me on?”

  I laughed. “Frankly, I’m not completely sure I could predict your reaction.”

  “How about you, is this something that floats your boat? Sort of a continuation of the scene, right?”

  I nodded, a little uncertain. Truth is, I was getting sated on the whole thing, and anyway, I didn’t think anything could top the first night in the stateroom or last night on the bridge. And also…

  “What?” she asked.

  “Well, if he is a virgin, I couldn’t exactly be sitting there watching, you know. Not really fair to the kid.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking that. You could hide somewhere,” she suggested.

  I wasn’t sure I liked that idea. After all, initiating the young man into the rites of passion could take quite a while, and I didn’t relish the thought of being trapped in some shipboard cupboard for that long.

  “I could give you all the details.”

  I chuckled. She was now trying to talk me into it. That’s all I needed to know. “Only if you promise to teach him enough to really make his wedding night special.”

  “Really?” She asked giddily.

  I nodded. “Rock his world.”

  I stood and gestured toward the captain. “Let me get some details. You eat a little. I think you’re going to need your strength.”

  ***

  Reg had assigned Denny to straighten out the small, cramped storeroom in the bow of the ship. Suspecting my interest in watching, he led me into the galley where a small vent looked down into the storage area. I squeezed into my perch as Jennifer slipped, catlike into the cramped compartment with Denny.

  He startled when she cleared her throat, backing into a precariously piled stack of flotation devices that promptly tumbled to the deck. Denny wore a tortured expression, his eyes rapidly darting from the mess on the floor he’d have to straighten to my nearly naked wife to the hatch beyond that she blocked with her lithe—and did I mention, nearly naked—body.

  “Relax,” she cooed. “You’ve been working too hard.”

  His gaze seemed to alight on her left shoulder, perhaps the only part of her he could focus on without seeming lewd.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he croaked.

  “Do you want me to leave?” she asked, taking a small step forward.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t mean that,” she replied, pointing to his very obvious erection.

  “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean…” he stammered.

  “Can I see it?” she breathed. “I’ll show you mine.”

  She didn’t wait for his assent before sliding the thin strip of her bikini bottom aside and spreading herself open with two fingers.

  He groaned as if he was about to faint.

  “Show me,” she hissed.

  He fumbled frantically with his shorts and somehow managed to free his prick, holding it by the base. It wasn’t as girthy as his uncle’s tool, but still impressively large, rock hard, curved up toward his belly, dripping copious amounts of pre-cum.

  “God, that’s a beautiful cock,” she moaned.

  That was all it took. His hand twitched and suddenly a huge spurt of cum arced through the air between them. Jennifer giggled in amusement, but immediately shifted into reassurement mode when she saw his crestfallen expression. He seemed to want to crawl back into the shel
f behind him.

  “No, no, I’m flattered,” she insisted. She punctuated the claim by quickly dropping to her knees and swallowing the head of his prick into her mouth before he could shoo her away.

  She bobbed up and down on his big cock several times as his hands fluttered anxiously around her. It occurred to me that he might actually be a virgin, and what’s more I had a pang of doubt about the nature of his deflowering. This was like a kid learning to drive in a Ferrari.

  “Wow, you’re still hard,” she noted admiringly as she took a break from sucking on his rod.

  And he was. That first massive eruption had done nothing to diminish his erection. She took him back in her mouth, her hands cupping his balls. He groaned suddenly, nearly gagging my wife as he surprised her with a second orgasm so soon after the first. She swallowed desperately, as small streams of come dripped down her chin.

  She rocked back on her heels to get a little breathing room, and he stepped forward, his cock seeking again the hot, wet embrace of her mouth. His feet tangled on the mass of spilled flotation devices and he gracelessly toppled forward into my wife. They ended up in a pile of intertwined limbs, giggling and moaning apologies, gasps, exclamations.

  Jennifer’s dainty foot suddenly appeared from the pile, toes arched to the ceiling, and she cried out lustily, “Oh fuck, yeah.”

  I noticed his tight, muscular ass rising and falling amidst the cushions and I realized he was fucking her, fast, hard, barely in control. Jennifer managed to toss aside some of the life jackets and I finally got a good look at them. She was wedged in among the flotation the devices, one leg pressed up against her chest, and he was sawing into her, hammering her mercilessly with his still-hard prick.

  He gasped suddenly and awkwardly withdrew, sending several more ropes of come across her belly and tits. Then heedless of the mess, he again collapsed on her, driving his cock back into her.

  They were both gasping now, their moans rising above the sound of his prick squishing into her juicy twat. Even through the vent I could smell their pungent mix of excitement, sweat, come. It was intoxicating to me; it must have been overpowering to them.