After The Lust Boat

I woke up at 5:30 like I do every other day, except this morning I remembered that I took the day off. There was no good reason to get out of bed. After that hectic week aboard the cruise ship, I figured I might need a day of rest before getting back into the old grind.

I had only used the cruise as an excuse to get away from the mundane boredom in my life, that was created by the pandemic. My career as a novelist allows me to work from anywhere. I was lucky, in the respect that my “business” was quite lucrative, when so many others were hurting financially, but that many months at home, with nowhere to go, was mind numbing.

I always sleep with the bedroom window at least partly open, because I love the fresh air. The downside to that is, like most every other morning, I was greeted by my sometimes not-so-friendly cardinal. He always seems to get up before sunrise to greet the day. I am not sure if he has any rooster in his genealogy, but his sure is as noisy.

So much for actually sleeping in, but it didn’t really matter, because, as usual, my hand was wrapped around my morning wood, which was harder than normal and raring to go. I had been having a dream, reliving the five glorious fuck-filled days on the ship. At least for the time being, Jennifer Love Hewitt has been replaced by Marsha, my surprise cabinmate, as my go to fantasy fuck when I masturbate, which is almost every morning.

The cruise line had overbooked for the week and ended up not having enough rooms available for our singles group. Two of us were assigned the same room. I offered to sleep on the deck, but Marsha talked me into sharing the room with her. At first, I didn’t think it was a good idea, after all, we were total strangers, and she might have been a psycho or something. She finally convinced me to agree to it. I’m sure the fact that she was hot as shit, didn’t have anything to do with it. I mean, really, a girl that looked like that, inviting a guy she had never met before, to share a bed with her? Fantasies like that, just don’t happen to guys like me, I only write about them in my stories.

Marsha was model beautiful. She stood about five foot six, had long brown hair just past her shoulders, and looked amazingly fit. She had a really nice ass, and her legs looked well-muscled, like a runner or something. Now, I’m more of a boob guy than an ass guy, and I don’t want to sound disappointed, but she didn’t have humongous boobs. To her credit, they did look all natural, they didn’t sag, and her nips looked like they were just as hard as my dick can get in the morning.

I think I knew that first day that Marsha was something special, and I was very careful not to do anything that might chase her away. The first move, if there was going to be one, would have to come from her, and it did, in a spectacular way.ba