Faking It(8)
“I’m dying to feel your cock in my mouth,” I saw Misty whisper to me, her sun-kissed hair and shining smile as beautiful as ever.
What the fuck…? I shook my head hard and opened my eyes to see Ada gazing down at me. Before I could think, I grabbed her wrist and held her hand still. A concerned look appeared on her face, like I was depriving her of an inalienable right.
“Are you okay, Tyler?” she asked. I’d made her feel like I didn’t want her hand on my dick. It was probably the first time she felt insecure in her life.
The fuck is wrong with me, I thought, she wants me right now, she’s practically begging to blow me, and all I can think of is that fucking stewardess?
I needed to think. Aroused as I was, I was uncomfortable with her sitting on me. I gave her a quick kiss and slowly pulled her hand out from my pants. “I’m fine, babe, I promise. I’m just... it’s just... I wanted our first time to be perfect. You know, champagne,” Ada’s shocked and slightly angry expression began to soften into a smile again, “rose petals, massage oils, that sort of thing, not screwing quickly to the soundtrack of D Cash constantly banging his ho’s.”
“That’s sweet,” Ada replied, before putting her mouth to my ear again and whispering gently, “it just makes me want to do even more naughty things with you than ever before.”
“Awesome,” I stammered, scrambling out from under her. “I’ll get changed. We can spend the afternoon drinking and laying in the sun, kissing, and building the tension until tonight.”
“Will you rub oil on me?” she asked, doing that vulnerable little girl act.
“Of course.”
She grabbed hold of my still hard cock again, through my slacks. I gasped as she roughly pulled me a little closer. “I think it feels like we’ve built up enough tension, personally. But I like your thinking.” She let me go, rolled off the bed, picked up her shades, and swept out of the room in another practiced and fluid movement.
I collapsed back on the bed, horny, scared, frustrated, and relieved, all at once. She was so hot, was clearly going to be an animal in the sack, I was physically capable, but I couldn’t go through with it. A vision of Misty filled my head once more. The fuck am I doing...?
The captain had dropped anchor far out to sea. I came up on deck to see no land, no nothing in sight. We were definitely in international waters. The sun beat down on the yacht as we had lunch on the top deck. It was wide, floored with immaculate wooden slats, and featured a dozen or so sun loungers, four tables with huge parasols shading them, a long banquet table that we ate around, and a huge hot tub at the back, next to the outside stairs.
Misty was working, serving salmon mousse and lobster tails with a quinoa, mango, and truffle oil salad, while Sarah, the red-headed chief stew, kept us topped up with white wine and champagne for the ladies, plus beer, bourbon, and scotch for the gentlemen. I gathered that Tanya, the other steward about Misty’s age, was taking her lunch break in the galley right then, so she would be able to look after us later when the other stewards were off duty.
Misty was polite, courteous, and very professional. She laughed and joked as she worked, flattering the other guests with a practiced ease while still remaining detached. I just wanted her to engage with me a little. I wanted to find something I didn’t like about her so, maybe, I might be able to stop obsessing and screw my girlfriend. She gave me nothing, though. Her manner toward me was still perfect, her smile was still perfect. She was perfect. I’d never believed in love at first sight. Still don’t. But I wanted this girl, and I couldn’t explain why.
Over lunch, to keep the conversation going, I tried to learn a little about the ladies my friends had brought along. D Cash and his girls sat together. Britney, the thin blonde, turned out to be from Santa Monica, and the voluptuous, African-American Ruby, was from Long Beach. The two girls never sat together, I noticed. They always kept D Cash between them. I found myself wondering if they had sex that way too, then stopped as D Cash’s big butt came back into my mind.
I was next to Britney, with Ada beside me who, unlike D Cash’s girls, had felt it decent to throw her wrap back on to cover her skimpy bikini for the meal. Britney’s sky-blue bikini top and thong were tiny but, although she was well-formed, her slim figure almost disappeared next to Ruby’s outrageously fantastic, porn-star build. Her purple thong disappeared completely between her full, firm butt cheeks and the tiny twin triangles up top were not even large enough to hide her nipples, allowing tantalizing edges of her dark-skinned areola to clearly peek out. Misty and Michele even kept staring, like they’d never seen anyone like her in real life. It was probably a good thing that the male crew members were all currently working below or preparing the water toys, otherwise they were likely to have embarrassed themselves.
Across from D Cash sat Paul and, like a gentleman, he was managing to not stare at Ruby’s generous breasts. Not too much, at least. His fashion model girlfriend, Veronique, was from Italy, and sat beside him in her big sunglasses, her slim and toned body also tastefully covered by a dark-green, wrap. She kept her hand on Paul’s knee, except for the times when she thought the stewards weren’t looking, then she would run her hand up his inner thigh and smile at his sudden gasps of surprise.
Next to her was Henry, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts like the other guys, who laughed along with us but was totally failing to make the young and very pretty Bella feel like one of the gang. She pouted and played with her food. I hoped she would get into the spirit of the voyage soon. I knew Henry was asking for trouble bringing her but I still wanted him to have a good time.