The Hotwife Cruise: Cassandra 8

Chapter 12 

Unlike after the rave the night before, tonight Austin was lucid as he returned to his cabin. More than just lucid. It was like the world had come alive in vibrant color. He was Dorothy entering Oz.

He could still smell Cassandra on him. He could shut his eyes and still feel her skin, so soft, so smooth. He remembered the way she kissed—more assertive than back when they dated, yet not in the way that Faye was.

But what stuck with him most of all, blazing like a high proof spirit, was watching her take Marshall in her ass. Just thinking those words sent his stomach fluttering, his chest constricting, his scalp burning. All the telltale signs of jealousy and envy and cuckold excitement. All the things that he’d stopped feeling for his own wife. Or maybe never had felt? At least not fully?

“Oh! Oh! Ooohh!”

And of course said wife was going at it hot and heavy when he got back to the cabin. He could hear them fucking before he’d gotten within twenty feet of their door. Loud, hard, and not including her husband: Faye’s preferred type of sex these days. 

His stomach sank, but not in the good way—not the way that he’d just been feeling. 

The volume of Faye’s heated coupling only got louder once he’d opened the door. “OH! OH GOD! NGGGGGGGH!!”

Turned out it was the lifeguard banging Faye. She was still with the lifeguard. That had to be some kind of record. Austin’ wife was usually more the “hit it and quit it” type. Funny how long ago that felt. A whole fucking lifestyle ago.

“Honey!” Faye moaned. “Just in time!”

Faye was on her hands and knees, so sweaty that she could have just emerged from the shower. Maybe she had. The lifeguard looked the same, glistening and bronzed. 

What was this particular bronzed adonis’s name, again? Matthew or Michael or something.

Whatever his name was, the guy didn’t look like a real person. None of the bulls on this ship did. Himbos, studs, fuck machines. Austin thought of the guy from the other night. “Stunt Cock.” It was like a playground for hotwives—and a boxing ring for the husbands. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fight anymore.

“Join us, baby. Let me show you a new trick I picked up.” She held out a hand toward her husband. 

Austin sighed. The clock on the bedside table read 3am. He really just wanted to sleep, and he sure as hell didn’t want to deal with any of this.

“I’m good,” he said. The bed was occupied, obviously, and the loveseat didn’t look comfortable. Tired, he asked, “I don’t suppose you two could take this somewhere else?”

“What?” Faye looked at him like he’d said something in a foreign language.

“Never mind.” He grabbed a robe and his toothbrush from the bathroom, gave his wife the kind of kiss they shared when he was heading out to work, and left them alone.

He lingered for a moment outside the door, waiting to see if Faye would come running after him. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping that she would, or praying that she wouldn’t.

A moment later, the sounds of fucking started up again. Austin surprised himself by grinning. All he felt was relief.

***

Sunrise on the Horizon Deck was magical. He ended up crashing on a bench up there, using his robe as a blanket. It was warm enough that he got some rest, if only a little, before other couples came out here to watch the sun crest along the edge of the ocean.

He watched them, envious of what they had. One older couple sat cuddled together, her gray hair resting on her partner’s thin shoulder. Austin wondered if they were part of the lifestyle, or one of the vanilla passengers. God, what must that be like? To come on here with a bunch of horny couples. He liked the idea that she was still her man’s hotwife.

Standing, stretching, he watched until the orange sky burned off, giving way to an endless, azure sky. If there were clouds, they were far off.

Today, the ship was docking in St. Thomas. Of all the ports of call on this cruise, Austin had been most looking forward to this one. He wanted to hike the Mountain Top trail or visit the Coral World Ocean Park. He wanted to wander through the vibrant streets of Charlotte Amalie, or check out Blackbeard’s Castle. Faye had been at his side In all of these plans. Now, tourism was the last thing on his mind.

First things first, he needed to figure out where to stay for the latter half of the cruise. He wasn’t ready to end his marriage of ten years on a cruise, but he also couldn’t imagine sleeping on a deck chair on the Horizon Deck for the next four nights.

“Hi, I was wondering if there were any open cabins,” he asked at the main reception hall. The woman standing behind the desk was a stunning blonde, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her features sharp and elegant. Her name tag read, “Inez Lindström,” and she had greeted him with a sweet, Scandinavian accent.

Inez frowned at Austin. “Is everything okay? If your cabin is not to your liking—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s more the… company.”

Understanding lit up in her blue eyes. “I see,” she said sympathetically. She began to type into her computer. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Reed. If you’d like, I can see if our counselor, Harmony Kang, is free.”

A counselor. Yeah, that would probably be necessary at some point. “I appreciate it, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet.”

“Of course.” She glanced down at her monitor. “We do have a few rooms available, but they’re a bit smaller than what you have now. And no balcony.”

“That’s fine. I’ll take it.”

She tapped away and nodded. “Done. Compliments of the Princess. We’re sorry that your stay with us hasn’t been great.”

At that moment, the image of Cassandra flashed before him—an innocent one, of her smiling, her eyes lighting up, small crescents of joy.

He felt the same grin crossing his face that had earlier this same morning outside what was now his wife’s cabin. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “It’s just not been what I was expecting.”

A new room secured, Austin returned to his old one. Time to face this music, no matter how unpleasant. He wondered what he’d do if the lifeguard was still in there. Mercifully, his wife was alone.

“There you are,” Faye said. She actually looked worried. “Where have you been?”

She rose from the bed. She was dressed for the day, in a cute sundress, her sunglasses pushed up into her short, honey-blond locks. Unlike him, she looked showered and smelled clean. 

“Slept outside under the stars.”

Faye’s brow furrowed. She floated over to him. “Why didn’t you stay?” She touched his face like she was afraid he’d crumble. “I wanted you to stay.”

“And I didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.”

“What?”

He looked around. Despite Faye looking daisy fresh, the room was in shambles, a jumbled, reeking reminder of her night of debauchery—-and his.

“Not here. Want to go check out St. Thomas?”

***

“I can’t do this anymore, Faye.” They were sitting at a cafe along the waterfront. The ocean was so clear, a vibrant turquoise that looked like it was taken from a postcard. “I can’t be the man that I think you want me to be.”

Faye was calm. Suspiciously so. Austin kept waiting for her to go off on him, but instead, she looked thoughtful. “What do you think I want you to be?” she asked quietly.

“A… a cuckold?”

“And you’re not?”

Austin winced. “Technically, sure. But you know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Faye said. “You say that a lot lately: ‘You know what I mean’, and honestly, sometimes I really have no clue what’s going on with you.”

Austin rolled his eyes. “I doubt you’ve given it much thought,” he said.

“But I’m trying to understand, honey. I want to.” She reached for his hand. “Help me understand.”

“I don’t… like the way you treat me… I don’t like being… humiliated.” That was one of the hardest things that he’d ever admitted in his life. Once it was out, though, the weight was off his shoulders. “You make me feel small.”

Faye didn’t say a thing. She didn’t react. Her face was as still as a pool as she studied him. Her eyes narrowed, just a touch, before she finally spoke. And as she did, she drew her hand back. “Does this have anything to do with the stacked blonde you’ve been eye-fucking these last few days?”

Austin blinked at her. “What?”

“The one from last night, at the concert. The one who looks like a Barbie with those big, fake tits.”

“How do you—”

“I have eyes, too, Austin. I see things.”

“Then why don’t you see me?” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” she snapped.

Austin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Clearer and louder this time, he said, “Then why don’t you see me, Faye? You want me on a leash, and I’m done with it.” His voice shook. “I came on this trip hoping that we could reconnect, and make this work. But if anything, just the opposite has happened. There’s been a flashing ‘WELCOME’ sign hanging above your bed seemingly for every man onboard except for me. The whole thing has given me some surprising clarity.”

Faye pursed her lips. “That what you want is some bimbo?” She seemed to realize that she was coming on too strong. She softened her tone, her face, once again reaching out for him. “You don’t, baby. You need someone to challenge you. You need someone to push you. Maybe I push you too far, but without it, you’d be—”

“Happy? Content? My own person?” He pulled his hand away from hers. 

“You’d be fucking nothing,” she spat. Then her eyes went wide. Even Faye realized that she’d crossed a line. She lowered her eyes and shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“You sure? I think that deep down, you’ve always felt that way.”

“Austin—”

“You remember how this whole hotwife thing began? I walked in on you at one of your work parties, and you were just about to go down on your fucking boss.”

“And you watched,” she said, her eyes glittering. “You just stood there and fucking watched, with your dick so hard you needed to adjust it.”

“I should have ended it then. Put my fist through his smirking face and dragged—”

“So why didn’t you?” she broke in. “Because you like it. You like to watch. You get off on it. It’s what you need, and what I can provide.”

“Wow.”

“You know it’s true,” Faye pressed, every second seeming more sure of herself as she rolled out her familiar script. Austin had heard it all before, every time he had raised the tiniest objection to their “new dynamic.” Why was he only now pushing back?

And then he thought about Cassandra again and her lovely, laughing crescent-shaped eyes. “You know the best thing about a hotwife cruise?” He said as he stood up. “Seeing all the different available flavors of this lifestyle. Sure, I may like to watch, but I know now that what we have… what we had… isn’t my preferred taste at all.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I need to walk, and I’ve heard good things about the trail up to Mountain Top.” He looked at her impractical heels. “I’d ask you to join me, but I don’t want to spoil the hike.”

“Austin,” she said, a warning in her voice. Then, with more concern as she realized that he was being serious, “Austin?”

“We’ll talk, Faye. But later. After the cruise. Right now I just… I just can’t.”

With that, he walked away.

Chapter 13

Cassandra woke up exhausted the day after her threesome with Austin. Her body was sore. Her throat was raw from all the moaning and cock sucking. Her butt still hurt from Marshall’s rough anal sex. But she wasn’t just exhausted from the double penetration.

It went deeper than that. This was emotional. She couldn’t close her eyes and not see Austin, feel the charge from his body against hers, the decadent burn of his beard against her skin everywhere from the nape of her neck, across her nipples, to her labia, the way he looked at her… and the insistent thrum it all set off in her heart, to say nothing of the heat kindling in her belly 

She closed her eyes and didn’t want to open them again. Shewanted to stay in bed, if only to dream a little longer.

And all that made her feel awful. You’re married, she reminded herself, you have a man you love. Games are games, and fun is fun, but you made a commitment.

Usually the thought of her bond with Marshall was enough to silence her mind on mornings such as this one. Not this time.

Should this sort of commitment feel so one-sided? The thought came despite her best efforts to block it out. Followed closely by, when exactly did proving my love become so exhausting?

Doing her best to ignore her back-talking inner voice, Cassandra spent the day doting on Marshall all around Charlotte Amalie. As if to prove to him—-and maybe to herself—that she was being silly.

“This is nice.” They sat at a bar that opened up along one of the market streets, sipping rum drinks with umbrellas and fruit garnishes. She covered his hand with her own, lacing her fingers through his. His wedding band was warm. “Maybe we should just stay here the rest of the days.”

Marshall laughed. “Getting tired of our small cabin?”

“Maybe I just like solid ground.” Or maybe I don’t want to run into Austin again, she didn’t say.

“You okay?” Marshall asked, turning to her. “You seem off.”

“Yeah. Just tired. Last night was…” She trailed off, thinking that she saw Austin walk by a block away. But no, just some other guy with light brown hair and a beard.

“Last night was something,” Marshall said, sipping his drink. “Think we can top it tonight?”

“I’m not sure my body can take it!”

“Please,” he said, sliding his free hand up the inside of her thigh. “I’ve seen this body take a lot more.”

Cassandra shivered at that. She closed her thighs around his hand, but her pussy was already tingling.

“You know, there are areas marked by platinum ropes. They indicate playrooms,” he said. “Maybe we dip into one of those tonight?”

Partly because the thought did arouse her and partly because she knew what was expected of her, Cassandra smiled at her husband and said, “Sounds perfect.”

***

Cassandra wrapped both hands around the man’s impressive dick. She made sure to stare up at him as she took him into her mouth, knowing how much guys liked eye contact. She liked it, too, and there was no hiding it when locking gazes. There was a vulnerability for both of them. She didn’t even know this guy’s name, but they were having a moment.

“God, you are sexy,” he groaned.

Cassandra encircled the crown of his cock once before popping off of it. “And you’ve got a big dick. Let me guess, at least nine-inches?”

“So you’ve heard of our little club.” He winked at her, eyes as dark as his hair. “I’m Paul.”

“Cassandra,” she said. She glanced over at Marshall, who was sitting in a nearby armchair, watching her. It was thrilling—being watched was always thrilling. And usually  in a room like this, surrounded by moans, hotwives, hot men, coupled with the way she could feel everyone looking in her direction, hoping that she’d shed her tight, silver cocktail dress, it would all swirl into a heady cocktail that only served to stoke her own desire.

And yet it all somehow just felt flat now compared to how Austin had made her feel last night. Like a sauce that was missing spice.

“So Paul,” she said, batting that thought away. “Want me to fuck you with my tits?” She said it as much for Marshall as for Paul. This time, she didn’t look over at her husband, but kept her eyes focused on her bull as she pushed the spaghetti straps of her dress off of her shoulders.

“I’ve been hoping to ever since you walked in,” Paul said, staring unabashedly at her boobs. “They kind of command attention.”

“Best money can buy.” Her tits free, she went back to sucking him, taking his cock all the way into her throat before pulling back. Pushing her tits together in her hands, she looked down at her cleavage and released a long, sticky strand of saliva. Even that was as much for show as it was for utility. She heard Paul’s breath catch and grinned inwardly. It wasn’t easy to get a seasoned bull like this to gasp. “There, that should do it.”

Leaning forward, she wrapped her tits around Paul’s thick dick. He was shaved bare—don’t think of Austin—and somehow felt both soft and hard against her breasts. “Look at how hot that is,” she said to him, her own eyes watching his cock move along her chest. “God, you feel even bigger between my titties.”

A woman joined Paul on the sofa, throwing an arm around him and kissing him passionately. She was beautiful with long, blond hair, high cheekbones, and smooth, creamy skin.

Cassandra was confused, but she’d been around the block enough times to just go with it. This woman wasn’t clawing her eyes out, and when she broke the kiss and looked at Cassandra, her smile told the whole story. “Well, hello there,” the blonde said. “You are fucking hot.”

“Thanks.” Cassandra preened at the compliment. She raked her eyes across the other woman’s body, naked other than black thigh-highs and a pair of Loubs. “So are you.”

“Mind if I join you?” The woman slipped down to her knees just behind Cassandra, her nipples hard and long as she pressed them into Cassandra’s back. “I’m Heather, by the way. Paul’s wife.”

Heather ran her hands up Cassandra’s body, cupping her tits just beneath her own hands.

“I see. I thought he was one of the L.O.N.G. bulls.”

“Oh, he is.” Heather looked up at Paul with an expression that reminded Cassandra of… she pushed the thought away before his name could form in her head. The blonde continued, “But when I heard about this cruise, I just couldn’t resist.”

“Heather’s a hotwife too,” Paul said.

“And we’re all about sharing,” Heather added. She leaned in over Cassandra’s shoulder, and Cassandra turned her head to meet the other woman’s lips. The kiss came so naturally, and all the while, she could feel the eyes of their husbands on them.

Heather broke the kiss and helped Cassandra out of her dress. “Don’t stop titty-fucking my man, please. He’s a sucker for big tits.”

If there was any doubt that they were on a lifestyle cruise, that night put it all to rest. The titfuck transitioned to a double blowjob, Heather working one side of him, Cassandra working the other. They’d kiss. They’d suck his balls. And eventually Heather said, “You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to see you fuck my husband.”

So Cassandra climbed up into Paul’s lap and lowered herself onto his big, beautiful cock. “Oh, fuck!” she gasped. Cassandra didn’t consider herself a size queen, but she appreciated a long, thick dick, and Paul’s qualified as both. He also knew how to use it. 

As the cherry on top, his wife knew how to complement him. Heather sat at his side, sucking Cassandra’s tits and caressing her skin as Paul drove up into her. “You look so hot together,” she whispered, running her hands between their bodies, rubbing Cassandra’s clit. “Fuck him good, baby.”

The two were clearly a team. Clearly in this for each other, in a way Cassandra had to admit to herself that she and Marshall just were not. And likely never would be.

That thought caused her to squeeze her eyes shut,  pick up the pace, lean in to the sensations, savor the feel of Paul‘s girthy length inside her, grinding her hips against his, seeking more contact, ever more contact. 

“Fuuuck!” he groaned, gripping her waist, taking control, bouncing her up and down on his dick. Cassandra felt her orgasm build, her pussy clenching around his fat dick.

Heather leaned in and kissed Paul, her tongue tangling with his. The sight of them, right there in front of her, pushed her closer to the edge. It hit Cassandra all over again how into one another these two were. The connection they shared crackled between them. Just watching them caused her to glance over at her own husband for the first time in what suddenly felt like hours.

Marshall was there, watching with that intense expression he always got on his face when she did this. But she also felt the gulf there between them, made all the more clear in contrast to Heather and Paul.

“Is he your husband?” Heather asked.

“Yes.”

“She’s amazing,” the blonde said to Marshall.

“I know,” was all he said.

Heather looked like she wanted to say something else, but one glance from Paul and she bit her tongue. Instead, she said to Cassandra, “Why don’t you come all over my husband’s cock. Your man will love that.”

Cassandra did as she was told. She liked following orders, and gladly followed Heather’s. She rode Paul harder and faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he met her thrust for thrust. His wife was there, tweaking her nipples, touching her clit, sending her into the clouds.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, her voice rising in pitch. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.”

“Do it,” Paul groaned. He pulled her down into him, grinding his hips up as her orgasm crashed over her. She cried out, her body shaking, convulsing, coming. She collapsed against Paul’s body, panting and sweaty. Heather kissed them both, her lips soft and gentle.

“That was amazing,” she said, smiling at them. 

Cassandra realized that while Heather was talking to the both of them, her words were really directed at Paul. “You two were so hot together.”

She slipped off of Paul’s erect dick, and Heather quickly took her place. They were going at it before Cassandra had even turned fully to Marshall. He held out his hand, beckoning for her to come to his side.

“Enjoy the show?” she asked him.

“You know I did.”

“Come on,” she said, looking around. “Let’s find some more fun things to play with.”

***

The next day the ship docked in St. Maarten. Normally one to explore, today Cassandra felt completely wiped. She opted to lounge out on the beach beside the main strip in Philipsburg, which was quainter and more European than Charlotte Amalie.

Marshall didn’t mind a slower day, either—especially when she told him that she’d sun in a thong bikini for the sexier tan lines.

That night they had dinner at the Captain’s Table, which, despite the name, was just a classy, low key restaurant in the stern of the ship. It was nice. A pianist played live music against a backdrop of the night sky, soulful, peaceful, romantic. Murmured conversation filtered through the dimly lit space.

The ambience felt perfect for what Cassandra had in mind. It set just the right mood, served as the proper setting for opening up about things. For healing. For finally unburdening herself of the guilt she’d been carrying around since that first night she’d seen  Austin.

“Honey?” she said. ”I need to tell you something.” All of a sudden, her heart was in her throat. She wished that she could take back her words and the promise of a confession. But they were out, and Marshall was staring at her curiously. “I… I know Austin.”

“You know him?”

“I knew him. I dated him a long time ago.” As she spoke, she became more confident that this was the right thing to do. “This was before you. Just after college.”

Marshall leaned back in his chair, quiet, pensive, casting his eyes out past the stern of the ship, where the moonlight caught in its dark wake. Normally, Cassandra bent over backwards to reassure him—especially in situations like this one—to smooth over any conflict. This time, she gave him the space to think, to process, just as she’d had the space to process all day.

At last, he said, “So what are the odds? ‘The one that got away’ on the same lifestyle cruise as us?”

Cassandra leveled her gaze at him. Of course he went there, like this was all a scheme, a plot. It was the way his mind worked. It was maybe something that he himself would orchestrate? 

Funny thing was, Austin really wasn’t ‘the one that got away.’ He was just a nice guy she dated during a time when neither of them were grown up enough to start anything special. They were both so very different now.

But she didn’t think Marshall would get any of that nuance, and she wasn’t going to apologize anymore. Somehow him not getting itdidn’t feel likeher problem anymore.

“I haven’t done the math,” she said instead, “but I’d imagine the odds are pretty long.”

Marshall snorted. He picked up his glass of wine, swirling it around before tipping it back and drinking. “Yeah,” he said, his voice flat. “Sure. Total coincidence “

“Oh, don’t be like that, Marsh.” Under the table she ran her foot up the inside of his leg. “If I wanted to fuck my ex, I’d just call him up and fuck him. No sense going to the trouble of sneaking around as part of some elaborate plot to get him on board a cruise ship. Along with his wife.”

Marshall almost didn’t let it go. He got fixated on things, especially when he got jealous. After a moment of studying her, though, he nodded. Cassandra released a breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Then he asked, “But why didn’t you just tell me?”

It was a good question. It may have been the question. “Because I was worried you’d behave just…” She leaned in. “...like…” And watched his eyes dip into the low front of her dress. “...this. You have a jealous streak, you know.”

“Your fault.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’re the one who likes to dress me up. To show me off. So I’d say,” she leaned back, “it’s all yours.”

Next chapter should be the big climax! I'm sending the final manuscript to the publisher on Sunday, so add any comments of things you like or want to see happen now!