by Hawke, Jessa
Luca was now focusing on her face. “You,” he told Brent, kneeling on one knee on the edge of the bed. “Take your clothes off and join her. I want to catch her face in an expression of, how you say? Pleasure.”
Stripping down to his golden god glory, Brent crawled towards her on the bed and positioned himself directly over her. He trailed his lips down the side of her face, teasing her softly, never quite touching her. He paused his face over her breasts and took one in his hand, kneading it gently, and lifting it to his mouth to first lick her nipple gently, then take the delicate expanse of it into his mouth and suck. The sensation traveled across her entire chest and then down below. Brent lavished attention first on one breast, then the other, and, nudging her legs open with his knee, he felt her wetness there. The knee was replaced by his large hand, stroking her, probing her with his fingers.
She heard the shutter go off and could see the image in her mind, for she was clutching Brent’s hair in her hands between her breasts, and could feel herself writhing and bucking against his hand. And then, quite saucily, she opened her eyes and stared directly into the lens of the camera, directly into Luca and whoever might be watching. She liked this, the idea of being watched, the opening of her womanhood and sexuality being observed by someone who could hardly remain a casual observer for long.
As Brent placed small, hot kisses all down her belly, never ceasing the motion of his hand, she moaned at the feel of it, and the feel of his hot cock expanding against her leg, excited at her excitement. At her utterance of enjoyment, the Canadian gathered her up into his arms and rocked back on his heels. She was wet, very wet at the opening of her pussy, slick and moist and inviting and Brent was not about to decline the invitation. Sliding her back down on him, his penis spread open her nether lips and slid inside, causing her to gasp aloud. She could feel him acutely, and as he slid in and out of her, alternating with her hips rocking back and forth, her breasts would press against his chest, tantalizing her nipples. He was groaning, but she knew that he would hold on for her, no matter how long it took.
The bed creaked behind her, and she felt someone warm press against her back. She leaned her head back and saw that Luca had set his camera back on the tripod, taken off his clothes, and joined the couple on the bed. His body was different than Brent’s, stockier, fuller, and with more hair on his chest. Lilly liked the contrast, and she liked the feel of the soft hair on the tender skin of her back. She felt his hands on her shoulders, massaging her all the way down to her breasts, stimulating her nipples as Brent pumped her slowly and slickly. Luca was tilting her head back even more, kissing her neck, licking the responsive flesh and sucking her, which made her clutch her inner muscles against Brent more firmly, causing an appreciative groan from the Canadian.
Then she felt Luca’s body move past her and opened her eyes to see him bend over her body and kiss Brent full on his open and inviting mouth. She was flooded with a sense of indecency and wickedness as she watched the two men kiss each other, knowing that their lust was commingling even as her body was filled by one of them. Brent slid out of her so a part of his shaft was visible, and Luca placed his hand in between them, simultaneously rubbing her clit and the Canadian’s penis.
Lilly’s senses were flooding from the attention of both men, but there was more to come. She felt Luca pushing her body closer to Brent and spreading the cheeks of her bottom until the pucker of her ass was visible to him. She felt him slide a lubed finger--when had he had the time to get lube?-- over her asshole and then a little inside, and little sparks of excitement from the new sensation mix in with the growing intensity of Brent’s fucking her.
And then she was spread in two places at once as Luca entered her from behind. The feeling of being filled everywhere imaginable was unlike anything Lilly had ever experienced. As Luca would slide up into her from behind, Brent would slip out, just a little, and vice versa. She could feel their cocks rubbing up against each other in the tight space inside her, and knew they could feel it to, a knowledge that excited her even more. She was being stretched, used, but it did not feel like an insult. They were all fucking together, and they all enjoyed the feeling of each other against one another. Lilly was losing control; the two dicks inside her were causing a pleasure bordering on pain, and she felt like an animal, caught up in the delicious sensation rutting with abandon.
She screamed aloud as she came, breasts thrusting into the air, nipples hard and puckered, sweat drenching her body. Every nerve ending was on fire and below her, all was wet as she released herself onto the two men, forgetting everything but the overwhelming power of her orgasm. Minutes later, as she came to, she saw both men smiling at her triumphantly. But what about their turn?
She needn’t have worried. Luca was thrusting his tongue again into Brent’s mouth and grasping his bronzed shoulders. Fixing the other man with a wicked look, he kissed down the hard expanse of his abdomen and slid his hard cock directly into his mouth.
Brent squeezed his eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of the photographer’s mouth sliding over his penis, then pushed him down to the floor. Luca propped himself up on his hands and ass and leaned his head back, opening his mouth wide to receive the Canadian’s cock. Lilly watched as Brent first ran the engorged tip over Luca’s lips, and then slid it down his throat. As Luca’s tongue slid up and down the Canadian, his hands reached up to play with his balls.
Before her, Luca’s penis also stood erect, begging for touch. She crawled down on the floor in front of his spread legs and lay belly-down on a purple pillow. She slid her tongue up the length of Luca once, twice, then sucked on the purple-tipped shaft. She could hear Luca’s muffled groan as he took in the length of Brent in tandem, and licked him all the way down to his sensitive peritoneum, feeling his cock twitch against her lips. She smiled and sucked harder, massaging the length of him with her mouth and tongue, watching as he did the same to the spread-legged Canadian invading his mouth.
It happened in succession, the orgasming. First, Brent exploded into Luca’s mouth, the dark-haired photographer wide-mouthed ‘til the last, and Brent spreading everything that had spilled out of him all around his face, giving it a light slap with his cock, and then Luca, unable to stand her ministrations any longer, spilled into her mouth. Lilly sucked him until he was absolutely dry, swallowing and licking him clean as Brent watched.
Sated and feeling indescribably naughty, the trio leaned against the edge of the bed, recovering. Then, placing a hand on each of the men’s penises, Lilly asked it.
“Who wants to go again?”
Three days later, as the GoGo travel bus sped from Venice back to the airport in Rome where the trip had begun, the travel manager’s voice once again crackled back onto the microphone. This time, it was filled with notes of disappointment.
“I guess nobody got to ride on an Italian’s Vespa,” he said.
No, thought Lilly, snuggling down deeper into her bus seat with a secret smile on her face. But I did get to ride something altogether better, after all.
THE END
Unscripted Desires
Spring had just melded into the first intoxicating drink of balmy summer when the letter arrived.
Dear Ms. Aldryn, (it read)
After reviewing your application, King Royal Cruises is proud to offer you a spot amongst our cast of performers for this summer season! We hope you are excited as we are about this opportunity—we feature star-quality entertainment for our guests nightly, and our rotating cast includes Broadway stars, jugglers, musicians, etc.—anything you can name, King Royal Cruises offers!
We hope you’ll enjoy your time with us. Take advantage of your days off by visiting our exotic destinations—you’ll truly feel like you’re on a working vacation!
Listed below this was the scheduled arrival time at the docks in exactly two weeks, along with instructions on how to obtain an identity badge. Identity badge. It wasn’t until she read that particular part of the letter that it finally hit Mackie
that the thing she had been both dreaming about and dreading for the past month and a half had finally come into fruition.
The urge to push past her strongly disciplined boundaries had suddenly assailed her right after the American Ballet Company had accepted her to join their highly esteemed and coveted ranks. For the past two-odd decades of her life, ballet had taken center stage, if she could excuse herself that particular pun. Being a ballerina might have been every little girl’s dream, but few could imagine the physical exertion, iron will, and extreme degree of correctness it took to achieve that goal.
And Mackenzie was nothing if not disciplined.
After receiving the news of her secured position at the company, however, there was one small problem. Dance season began in late August, and until then, Mackie had about five months of time to fill. After dawdling at one odd job or another for a couple of months, Mackie saw an online ad calling for new acts on King Royal Cruiselines. And without asking herself too much why she did it, she applied.
Now, holding their response in her hands, it occurred to her that maybe the reason she hadn’t wanted to think about why she had applied was because she did not want to admit the reasons out loud. And the reason was, she thought, years of diets, bruised feet, and nights locked up in the dance studio practicing flashing through her mind, was that she wanted one final break before dedicating the rest of her dancing years to the grueling life of ballet.
So what was the big deal?
The ballet company had several “strong recommendations” when it came to their new employees filling the months before they joined their ranks. Get plenty of rest, practice ballet, and—behave “professionally.” Which meant that jobs doing dancing at small-stage shows and other places got you a bit of a reputation, which the company frowned upon. Working as a dancer on a cruise ship, locked away with cast and crew who saw nobody but each other for half-year sequences at a time might just be one of those places. Looking back on her all-too-correct life, Mackenzie wondered if it would truly be such a terrible thing if she entered the company with a little edge to her name. After all, recommendations were recommendations, not rules set in stone. As if ballet could afford itself one more rule, she thought sarcastically.
Fingering the letter from King Royal, Mackie felt a small fission of excitement seep through her body. All of a sudden, it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and down on the wood of her family home’s front porch. There were so many things to plan! What to wear, which leotards to pack, what exactly the guys in the fantasies she would have until the cruise itself would look like. They’d all wear captain’s uniforms, of course. Or was that silly? Maybe people didn’t wear those anymore. And how would people react to her? Had there ever even been a ballerina on a cruise ship? It sounded almost farcical in her head, but the fact was was that if there hadn’t been, there was one now. Image and reputation be damned, she owed herself this bit of fun. It was the perfect opportunity, despite how ludicrous it might sound—this way she could practice ballet, rest, and even indulge her naughty a little bit.
Mackenzie Aldryn, cruise ship performer. Yes, she thought, rising gracefully to her feet and pushing open the white screen door with her free hand -unsc that sounds just right.
* * *
“The backstage entrance is located on another floor altogether to give performers privacy and time to prepare, of course,” Rick, the cruise director, informed her as they stood in front of the King Majesty’s grand showroom stage exactly two weeks later. “How does that sound?”
To Mackie, it all sounded extravagantly wonderful. From the moment she had arrived at the docks and seen the ship that would be her home for the next few months, she had had to pinch herself about every three minutes to convince herself this was actually happening. Under a bright and cloudless sky, the King Majesty rose to reach the almost visible rays of the sun, the kind that Mackie used to draw as a child. The ship was so large that it was difficult to imagine it sailing through the water without sinking to the very bottom, and the only indication of movement at all were the waves breaking against its hull as it stood anchored to seven posts at the dock.
Shielding her face against the sunlight with a broad-brimmed hat, Mackie had met Rick on the main deck. He had an hour to familiarize her with her schedule and the ship itself, and warned her it could be a bit overwhelming for a newcomer. “But don’t worry,” he told her, kindly grabbing one of her suitcases and hoisting it onto a little trolley. “We take care of our own. I’ve no doubt you’ll have a great time—everyone does!”
She would have chuckled at his incredibly cheery disposition if she hadn’t been so bowled over by the interior design of the cruise ship itself. It was as if someone had taken the very best of fancy hotels around the world, mixed it together and thrown it out onto the ocean. Gilded gold elevator doors, great crystal chandeliers intermingling with finely potted plants in foyers, dozens of tiny lounges, each complete with its own miniscule stage, where, as Rick informed her, a different musician would play each night.
They were all on a rotating schedule. Few people were ever on a cruise ship for more than two weeks, Rick told her, and so each performer only needed a few alternating acts in their repertoire for the time they were on the ship. She would be performing four nights a week, twice on the main stage, interspersed with a few shorter numbers on some of the smaller stages. It sounded like a dream, although Mackenzie knew it would be grueling—there was an early dinner crowd, and a late one, which totaled to two shows a night for every night she was performing. Luckily, she had her days completely free, and she intended to take full advantage of that. Nothing was going to hold her back from enjoying herself.
Not even her cabin, it seemed. She had been expecting something small and cramped, prepared for the worst, but her cozy room featured a darling round window, two gray silk curtains partitioning off her room into a living and sleeping area. Best of all was the array of floor-to-ceiling mirrors around the vanity. For her purposes, it was perfect. She was lost in admiring it when she suddenly became acutely aware of Rick standing politely at her side, waiting for her to come to so he could leave.
She blushed, grabbed her bags and thanked him, pushing all her things into the room. Still, he didn’t leave; instead, he walked into the room with her, opened her window, turned around and smiled at her. “You know, we’ve never had a ballerina act here before,” he said, walking back to the door. “I think that this will be an educational experience for us all.” And with that, he left the room and shut the door.
Mackie caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors. She turned her body this way and that, catching the long, lean lines of her form, honed by years of intense dance practice, and then pouted at herself in the mirror. Her body was all wrong for ballet, her first teacher told her. She inherited her broad thighs directly from her mother’s side of the family, a line of strong, beautiful South African women. She did not have the right form, the teacher had said, but Mackie had proved him wrong.
She turned from the mirror to take in the rest of the room. Time to change and explore, she thought, and lost herself in a flurry of unpacking.
Thirty minutes later, she was grasping the silver lean bar and observing the gargantuan crystal chandelier in the main entrance again. The air sparkled with an almost visible representation of serenity. The cool glass separating her from the open air of the entrance pressed against her dark skin, infusing her with a sense of calm and rightness. From her left, she could hear the vague clank of cutlery as the kitchen staff prepared for the early dinner crowd. Below her, people murmured as they sank their soft bodies into equally soft couches and absorbed the music tinkling around them.
There was something familiar about that tune. Mackie leaned forward, just a bit over the railing, feeling the front of her dress tug a little. Yes, there it was, the well-known strains of one of her favorite Sinatra songs.
These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray…
She couldn�
�t tell exactly where the music was coming from, but it filled her with a sense of peace. She was feeling strangely alienated in this world of floral prints and cargo shorts, on both men and women alike, uniform blobs of humanity that were about as diverse as the threads in the fabric of Mackenzie’s sea-green silk dress. So far, she was the only black woman on the entire cruise, as far as she could tell, and she was fairly certain she was getting some stares, the nature of which she could not decipher.
The feeling of being watched intensified as Mackie headed down the grand staircase, trailing the handrail with her fingertips. She stepped into one of the many tiny alcoves of the cruise to discover a nearly deserted bar, dark and lovely, oak-paneled with a real, honest-to-goodness white shirt wearing bartender toweling off glasses.
“A drink?” he tossed her way, casually, but to Mackie, it was the least casual thing in the world. As a dancer, she had a strict diet and regimen to follow, and alcohol was not included in any of that. Still, she wanted the full experience of doing just exactly whatever the hell she wanted, and so she slid one of her long legs onto the seat and ordered her first ever dirty martini. The glass presented to her was as delicate as Mackie herself, the only thing lending credence to its contents was the two olives getting drunk in it.
Sandwiching her clutch between her elbow and body and holding her drink, Mackie wandered around the floor, passing by hordes of Texans, all seemingly nervous at the prospect of not having to be at work. Who knew vacation made you nervous? Mackie giggled at the thought, warm with the alcohol from her drink. She passed by a series of huge open windows and glanced out to where the sun had already set over the water. Just then, a huge BOOM sounded, and Mackie knew that the ship had left its port.