The Do-Over(6)

With wide eyes and a giggle, I slowly stood, trying so very hard to act a whole lot less drunk than I was and announced again, “I really have to pee.”

Sailing under a swift early evening breeze, the sway of the deck was making it impossible to walk straight and I continued to giggle aloud as I made my way down a stairwell. Taking a turn, I found myself in a corridor lined with cabins, but no public restrooms.

“Shit,” I muttered and stopped, leaning against a wall while I tried to get my bearings.

I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck and strong arms encircle me from behind. “Lost, Little Bo Peep?” he whispered into my ear, his voice husky.

“I made a wrong turn.” We both laughed.

“Hey, don’t close that,” he called to a cabin steward just exiting a stateroom and heading back to his towel cart.

Grabbing my hand, Hunter pulled me down the hall and into the open cabin. Pointing his hand toward the bathroom, I accepted the invitation with a nod and went flying in there.

Emerging a few minutes later, a smug-smiling Hunter was leaning against the doorframe.

“Thank you.” I smiled, still trying not to act as trashed as I was feeling.

Putting his arms around me, he backed me into the bathroom and up against the wall in the open shower. His lips were on mine with a rough kiss, before I could even ask what he was doing. My first thought was how salty he tasted, as I opened my mouth for his tongue, which wasn’t as aggressive as the rest of his large, muscular body that now had me pinned to the wall. His kiss was deep and surprisingly tender.

Leaving his muscular biceps, my hands slowly traced up his shoulders, enjoying the solid curvature of his muscles. It had been a total turn-on to see this guy pump some iron in the mornings. As my hands rose, his fell to the sides of my bathing suit cover-up, tugging at it and lifting it off over my head, tossing it out of the shower and onto the bathroom floor. With one hand, he reached behind his neck, yanking off his tee-shirt and baring his incredible chest. We were both now down to our bathing suits and I correctly guessed we wouldn’t be in them for very long when he reached behind my neck and pulled the string, freeing my bikini top, my breasts now pressed up against the warmth of his chest.

Hunter groaned, and pinned me to the wall harder with his hips, his erection pressing into me as he ducked his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth while twisting the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His sounds, like gruff growls, were turning me on and I found myself panting. Leaning my head back against the wall, my sounds began to mingle with his as I lost myself to the pleasurable pain of his lips and teeth on my nipple and the pressure of one of his thighs between my legs. When he pulled his head away, I thought I was going to implode from the sudden lack of sensation and I groaned even louder.

“What do you want?” he asked with a slow smile, all sweet southern drawl.

“I want you to f*ck me,” My breath was coming so fast I could barely breathe the words, but I got them out, as if on a mission.

“Happy to oblige.”

His bathing suit was off in a single swipe. The man definitely had moves and clearly a lot of practice perfecting them. Lifting me, he wrapped my legs around his waist and with a very smug grin lowered me, without any preamble, onto his thick, waiting cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He closed his eyes and I knew he wasn’t actually asking me a question.

“Oh God, yes.” Foreplay is so overrated, was all I could think.

And then he surprised me, instead of starting to pound into me relentlessly, which is what I expected, and what I needed, he reached to the wall behind me and turned on the shower. As water started streaming over our heads, first a cold blast before turning warm, he leaned his face into mine and began to once again kiss me, but this time I was impaled on his cock.

“Are you ever going to f*ck me?” I asked, biting his bottom lip.

“What do you think?”

I laughed, “It might be a pretty hard situation to get yourself out of.”

And he drove up into me, slamming me into the wall with his first thrust, “Why would I ever want to?”

“I can’t think of a single reason.” And our lips met again under the spray of warm water as he filled me again and again, deeply pounding into me.

Hanging onto his broad shoulders, I surrendered my focus to the pleasure that was building with every thrust. This was a man who knew how to use his cock, for his pleasure and for mine, and at that moment, the only thing I cared about was coming and coming hard.

“Harder,” I implored and he was all too happy to accommodate me.

“Oh yeah,” was all he could say as I held on tight, my shoulders slamming the wall with each thrust.

As he was about to come, his fingers sunk into my ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he forcefully rammed me down onto him. I gasped from the depth of his penetration and sunk my teeth into his shoulder to muffle my scream.

Holy f*ck.

With the wall literally holding us up, we stood still for a few minutes, just letting the warm flow rain over our tensed muscles. Damn, that just made my vacation, I thought.

Grabbing the clean towels the room steward had just left behind, we dried off. I raked my fingers through my soaking wet hair, attempting to gain some control over what resembled a dripping rat’s nest in my attempt to exit the cabin without such a blatant you’ve been f*cked look. I then slipped on my bathing suit cover-up and wrapped my wet bathing suit in a towel.