Circumnavigation, risking it all
Prologue
Note: This series is autobiographic, the events are true as I can get ‘em to memory, but it’s been 22 years and a few details may have run together. It’s long and takes a while to pick up steam, hopefully not too boring ^_^
In 1996 I was active duty Navy and assigned to my first ship, a guided missile frigate home-ported in Mississippi. I was 23 years old, happily married, full of myself and from what I could tell, at the start of a successful career.
I had already completed one deployment to the Middle-East and had the obligatory “Sailor experience” under my belt of wandering from bar-to-bar, sampling food from cafes and street vendors, shopping in bazaars and boutiques in Barcelona, Haifa, Hurghada, Massawa, Djibouti, Manamah, Dubai, Muscat and Marseilles.
Through all of that I maintained my marital vows and thought myself all the better for it. I had been tempted, tested and tried numerous times and escaped with my virtue unscathed. I wore my fidelity like a crown and secretly judged my shipmates who failed the test. *Sigh* The higher the pedestal, the farther the fall.
So, some background to set the stage:
A Navy frigate is 456 feet long and 40 foot at its widest. It has four “floors” or decks of living spaces that include where we sleep, eat, relax, exercise and do the business other than operating a warship. Below those are machinery spaces, magazines, tanks and ballast. The philosophy at the time was “build the ship for war, and squeeze the crew in the space left over.”
Of particular note, at the time, the Navy was making efforts to bring women on smaller ships. Up till then they were only serving aboard “large deck” vessels like aircraft carriers.
Our ship was selected for two monumental things at the same time. One, a deployment, or cruise, around South America, circumnavigating the continent while playing war games with the various nation’s navies. And two, being the first frigate in the Navy to have women aboard.
While I had no objections to serving with women at sea, I could clearly anticipate the effect of nine women among the 96 “swingin’ dicks” of the crew. Whoever wasn’t going to try to get in their pants was going to end up overprotective father figures. I wanted no part in that drama and vowed to steer well clear of those “reefs.”
To accommodate the “split-tails,” as the fine gentlemen-ly Sailors referred to them, <— read sarcasm, one of the three enlisted lounges was converted into a nine-bunk female berthing during the ship’s yard period between deployments. You may imagine this further endeared the experiment to those not already anticipating the ladies imminent arrival. The berthing had two sets of bunks stacked three high, three separate bunks for the chiefs or officers, and a small bathroom, or “head,” with two sinks, one toilet and shower.
The integration had the whole hive in a frenzy; every young stud who thought themselves god’s gift to women, every salt-crusted sea dog who “knew” a warship was no place for a woman, every supervisor dreading the inevitable paperwork that would follow fist-fights and pissing contests and every wife and girlfriend ashore who “just knew those sluts” were gonna steal their man.
Aside from the women coming, the South American cruise is one of the most desired deployments a Sailor can hope to get! The ship would make port in nearly every major city on the coast. That meant several days ashore for time off, or “liberty,” and only a few days at sea between ports. My biggest concern was how little money I had to spend. I was a young Sailor and married, so there wasn’t a lot of spending cash in my pocket!
The ship was set to depart Mississippi and proceed to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, where we would pick up our female Sailors. After that, we anticipated port calls in Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico; Sint Maarten, Netherlands Antilles; Curacao, Venezuela; Salvador and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Montevideo, Uruguay; Buenos Aries and Ushuaia, Argentina; Valparaiso, Chile; Lima, Peru; Panama City, Panama and Cartagena, Colombia.
****
The stage is set, the players ready, on with the show!
****
Chapter 1, Guantanamo
As a young Sailor, few things were as exciting as leaving home-port and setting out on deployment. This cruise was even more so as we anticipated the novelty of circumnavigating South America, the luxury of numerous port calls and the mystery of operating with foreign navies.
I was feeling a little guilty because I was looking forward to the next six months and this deployment was taking me away from my bride of three years. We had no kids and she worked part time and was also very independent. We had worked out the finances so I’d have some spending cash, but not nearly as much as I wanted, but hey, who’s gonna argue about paying rent!
The three day transit from Mississippi to Guantanamo Bay went quickly. While the ship was underway, my duties were in the Combat Information Center, or CIC. I spent six hours listening to radios, watching RADARs, keeping a written log of everything happening and plotting the ship’s position. After that I’d have six “free” hours to go get some chow and try to get some sleep. As you can imagine, anything else like showering, laundry, writing letters and such, took even more time out of those six free hours. Such was the life of a “scope-dope” at sea!
While the ship was pier side in “Gitmo” we took on more fuel, provisions and the dreaded, or much anticipated, female Sailors. Our ship had the honor of being the first Navy frigate to have women serve aboard and I for one was not looking forward to the “live grenade” of these nine women represented to the 96 men in the “foxhole” of our ship. Not that I objected to the idea of women serving on warships, it’s just that the math here was obviously not in the favor for smooth sailing, so-to-speak.
I had predetermined to steer well clear of the drama that would be caused by these innocent creatures and secretly felt sorry for them being tossed into the proverbial lion’s den. Any man not trying to get into their pants would be pap bear, ready to take the head off any dude who so much as looked at them funny. Bleh!
The new additions consisted of two officers, one chief and six regular enlisted of various ranks and professions. The officers were a doctor who worked in medical and a Supply Corps officer who worked in supply. I can’t remember what the chief did, but the others were scattered about working in their respective occupations: aviation maintenance, administration, disbursing, storekeeper, boatswains and lastly operations, my own occupational specialty.
I’ll introduce her as “Elle,” a pseudonym from her first initial. Elle was the same rank as me and because I was hot shit in CIC, *seriously, not kidding LOL* I was to familiarize her with our RADAR consoles, log keeping procedures, radio circuits and the like. So from the transit from Cuba to Puerto Rico I was her battle-buddy, escorting her from the door of the female berthing to chow, up to CIC, she’d sit with me watching what I did on watch, then back to chow and back to berthing. Lather, rinse, repeat.
It would normally only take one day for the transit to Roosevelt Roads Naval Station, but we, the ship, et. al, participated in an exercise with ships from Gitmo and Rosy Roads. Meanwhile, Elle and I got along like “peas and carrots” as ole Gump would say. We thought alike, we worked alike, she was hot shit in CIC like me and frankly, we just “clicked!”
Well our obvious friendship had almost immediate consequences for me. Every dude in my chain of command was either “I hope you know what you’re doing,” or “You better not hurt her,” and even “What are you going to tell your wife?” Jeez-Louise! I spent more energy defending myself than I ever wanted to! Elle was kind and understanding and apologized for the drama that our proximity seemed to be causing, like me she really wanted to not get involved in all the drama! She had her feet under her by this point so we mutually agreed to create some space between us and things got better for me after that. She did confess later while on watch that there were ten dudes all vying for her attention once the saw some daylight between us. I just gave her the sympathetic but I knew it look which got me a good-natured, epic eye roll.
****
Chapter 2, Puerto Rico
When the ship arrived in Rosy Roads I ended up with “duty” where ten percent of the crew remains aboard to keep an eye on things and the rest get to leave the ship. So the first day there came and went without me seeing Elle and the next day was turning out the same way. We did duty-section turnover in the morning and I got changed a caught the bus at the end of the pier to the Base Exchange to get some lunch. The food aboard ship really isn’t that bad, but I had already been anticipating a sub sandwich from the chain-store I knew would be there. Fast forward through an uneventful day to late that night.
My favorite place to “chill” aboard ship was the “03 level,” a small deck outside and directly over the ship’s bridge. In fact, the 03 was the bridge’s roof. It was where I liked to go after watch in CIC for a while before returning to the metal warren of the ship’s passageways. I was bored but not ready for bed and hanging out up there watching folks return from liberty. I don’t guess I was really paying attention to who was returning because I was surprised when I heard steps coming up the stairs to the 03. I thought it was probably my best friend “Freddy,” but I was pleasantly mistaken when Elle came into view.
Elle is pleasant to look at, not a model and not homely. You could easily imagine her as a librarian, teacher or a nurse, you know, the ones you like, your favorites. Friendly, approachable, the ones everyone likes. She’s 5 foot 8 inches to my 5’11,” straight deep brown hair in a chin length bob, large but cute glasses, her mouth in a perpetual cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk. Her body was on the plump side of average which was overshadowed by her enormous rack. I don’t know what the inches were, but they were easily Double-D! Tonight her wide hips were filling out thin blue jeans and her “ladies” were trying to lead a prison break from the t-shirt and vest combo on her top.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself, you ass!” she replied with a smile. “Thanks for abandoning me to the wolves for the last two days!”
“It’s not my fault!” doing my best Han Solo impression. “I had duty yesterday and we agreed to give it some space ‘cus everybody was jealous.”
“Yeah, I guess,” looking at me over her glasses. “I was hoping for some intelligent company at least part of the time. God! They’re a bunch of fucking morons!” she spat with obvious disdain.
I wasn’t surprised by her invective, we were Sailors after all, but I felt the need to defend my shipmates.
“Ah, maybe next time, try going with a different bunch, maybe you’ll find someone you click with, give ‘em a chance!” I tried as we leaned on the railing surrounding the deck, looking out at what Puerto Rican scenery we could see in the dark.
“Why?” she countered, bumping her shoulder into mine in a friendly way. “We get along fine, we click!”
I took a long moment to look into her eyes, trying to understand if she were implying anything other than what she said. Finding nothing, that I could tell, I smiled and submitted myself to the situation and said “Okay then! What now? It’s a little too late to do anything and we leave for Sint Maarten in the morning, guess we gotta wait before we can go hang out.”
“Nah!” she declared. “Let’s go now!” as she took my wrist, turned me around and pushed me towards the stairs.
We made our way off the ship, waited for the next bus that would take us anywhere, there’s nothing down by the piers, and got away from the boat for a while. An hour we were vastly disappointed as we had discovered that the last shuttle to San Juan had departed, the exchange was closed and there were no buses running.
“Whelp, at least you had intelligent company!” I declared as we began the walk back to the ship. My quip earned me a dirty look and a punch to the arm, but we were laughing and I was thinking about how easy it was to be friends with her. I’m an introvert and find getting along with people exhausting, but with Elle, it seemed to come natural.
We were beginning to wonder just how much farther it was when the lush jungle on either side of the road gave way to a clearing on our right. At the top of a low hill was “The Goat Locker,” and affectionate name for the chief’s lounge where the senior enlisted Sailors could let their hair down away from the rank and file.
“Well, shit,” I shook my head. “We’re lost, I remember a base map and the Goat Locker’s on the other side of the base from the ship! Let’s go sit for a minute before we go on.”
“Maybe we’ll find a phone!” Elle added.
Not surprisingly, it was closed and nobody was home. I tried all the doors and we were thinking of heading out when I remembered, I saw a patio. On whim I led Elle around back and with a push and a lift the sliding patio door opened. I looked around for a phone and found one with an “Ah-ha!”
Elle came running and we stood looking from the phone to each other and back when it dawned on us that wouldn’t even know what number to call! “So much for intelligent company!” we both exclaimed in chorus which devolved into eye-watering laughter.
“We may as well chill for a few minutes before heading back,” I said as I looked around at the chief’s lounge. “Look! A bar!” I scampered over and began rooting around. After a few minutes I discovered that the liquor was locked up and the soda gun was off, but I managed to find a half fifth of vodka and some orange juice bottles in a little fridge. I found Elle throwing darts and proudly showed her my hunter’s skills
“Care for a screw… driver?” I asked, making it as awkward as possible to convey the joke.
“Hmmm, more of a hammer girl myself,” she replied with a grin. “You gonna nail me?”
“Nah. Right tool for the right job, my dad always said!” I said this as I was pouring the OJ into the half empty fifth and pouring the mix back into the two bottles.
Elle pretended to be disappointed but I knew we were just playing as we “clinked” our plastic bottles together, toasting our lame adventure and witty repartee. We sat together keeping each other company while sipping our drinks until the anchor shaped clock on the wall chimed 2 a.m.
“Damn! We still gotta walk back!” getting up quickly, I found that a 50/50 screwdriver hits you hard when it’s been eight hours since you’ve eaten! I helped Elle to her feet and she discovered the same thing, half falling into my arms. I admit, face to face, body to body, I felt like I belonged there, like her arms around me were “home,” and for a moment in time we were locked in each other’s gaze.
“Let’s go tiger,” she said, breaking the spell and leaning in to peck me on the neck below my ear. She turned and lead the way back out through to back door. My neck felt like it was burning, I swore I could feel the shape of her lips as I dumbly followed her back to the street.
The spell didn’t last long, we walked in silence of only a few minutes when a car came along and slowed to a stop near us. Lo and behold, it was shore patrol, and better yet, it was guys from our ship! They offered us a ride back and as Elle and I rode in silence in the back seat I could tell the guys were quietly joking at our expense and waggling their eyebrows at each other for what they thought was going on.
Elle and I didn’t say much when we got back and went our separate ways as soon as we crossed the gangway. I had to concentrate to navigate through the ship to my bunk, down two hatches and over innumerable “knee-knockers,” the last conscious thought as I passed out fully clothed in my bunk was how nice Elle smelled tonight even though it was tropical and we’d spent much of the night walking around… heh!
****
Chapter 3, Sint Maarten
“Oh this looks like a disaster waiting to happen!” quipped Elle, as we made our way down the gangway to the waiting water taxi.
The taxi was designed for a dozen passengers and we were the last two, bringing the total to about 30. Water lapped at the gunwales as the boat ponderously made the mile-long journey from where our frigate was anchored out in the harbor to the pier at the eastern end of the Phillipsburg boardwalk on the island of Sint Maarten.
Our division had planned on meeting together at local pub/grill situated on the beach in the arc of the Great Bay. It was an open air arrangement with a bustling street looking out the front, and a picturesque tropical beach scene looking out the back.
We all sat together had some forgettable food and Elle and I shared a margarita. We were sitting across from one another and slowly playing footsies after kicking off our sandals. After a while our shipmates all made off to carry out whatever plans they had made for this port call while we stayed behind sipping our drink. As the charismatic wife of the American expatriate couple who owned the joint brought us a replacement for our empty glass, she favored us both with a glimpse of her prodigious tanned mammaries barely concealed by a loose white tank top.
Elle gave me a playful kick under the table for my obvious fascination with the hypnotic hangers and elicited a wounded “What was that for?” from me.
“That’s for looking,” she said, grinning.
“You were looking too!” I exclaimed.
“Well, they’re worth a look or two, aren’t they?” the matron declared.
“Indeed!” Elle and I replied in unison.
We all had a good laugh as the cheerful woman departed with our empty glass and when we’d settled down a bit Elle got a serious look on her face and said “I thought you were looking forward having a closer look at mine,” while nudging them suggestively between her upper arms, accentuating her ample cleavage.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” I vowed in exaggerated sincerity. My reply was awarded with a wide smile and happy sigh.
Reflecting on the exchange, I instinctively recalled the events that led up to this happy moment.
****
One of my collateral duties aboard ship was as a Surface Rescue Swimmer. There were only two of us which meant that whenever the helicopter, or “helo,” took off, landed or refueled, the swimmers were on stand-by in case it landed in the drink versus our tiny flight deck at the back of the ship. We also responded to man overboard drills. During our transit from Puerto Rico to the island of Sint Maarten we continued to play war games with ships from Gitmo and Rosy Roads and I was repeatedly called out of CIC or my bed to go dress out in my swim gear and stand by adjacent to the ship’s small craft, a ridged hulled inflatable boat, “RHIB” for short.
If it was chilly, raining or otherwise inclement I would wait in the passageway outside the main-gun magazine. At night the ship would be under “light discipline” which meant that any door or passageway that opened on the exterior of the ship is illuminated by red light, lessening the chances of our ship being spotted visually.
It was such a time that Elle found me the night after our ship departed from Puerto Rico. I was sitting on the floor in the p-way outside the magazine while the helo was doing some such and Elle came walking through. We caught sight of each other at about the same time and I guess I startled her as she cried “What the hell!?”
“Hiya, Elle!”
“I was wondering where you had got off to, I was headed to combat to see if you were on watch still after I didn’t find you on the mess deck,” she explained.
“Nope, just trying to catch a wink or two while waiting to see if the helo crashes or not,” I joked. “Whatcha looking for me for, ya need something?”
“Nah, nothing in particular, just though you could use the company,” she smiled.
“Hell yeah! Pull up a hunk of deck plate and join me on this fine Navy Day!” I said as she settled in next to me. She surprised me a bit by sitting next to me versus across from me, but I thought it logical that we wouldn’t block the p-way sitting on the same side.
As we sat side-by-side in the dimly red lit remote passageway we fell naturally into companionable chit-chat. I didn’t think about how she had been searching for me to “keep me company” on a Navy warship with nine women and 96 men, the impracticality that she was even going to seek me out in the Combat Information Center while I was on duty there. All I was aware of was the warm glow of her companionship and just how naturally we “fit” together.
As we sat there I put my hand down beside me and after a bit she put hers down too. When her hand first touched mine it was as if a switch were thrown in my head, no, in my whole body. I froze as an intense desire washed over me in a flood. I had an instant hard-on as she gently stroked my fingers under hers. I felt like a deer in headlights, afraid to move but fearing if I didn’t we’d crash into each other in a burning heap of heat and flesh. I knew she felt it too when she stopped talking and turned to look in my eyes, silent and swallowing hard.
“Um,” was all I could manage. “We, um… Should. Um, maybe…”
She, like me, knew the penalties for Sailors caught doing anything sexual aboard a ship at sea, and in mutual, unspoken agreement, we untangled our fingers and stood apart.
“That was intense,” she said. “I’ve, um, never quite felt anything like that before!”
“Me neither,” I breathed. “We’re gonna need to be more careful than that!” I could tell she was thinking the same as me as we both looked sideways while thinking about how we each had spouses. When we glanced back at her I could see her erect nipples through her coveralls and as I looked up I could see she caught where I was gazing and she pointedly slid her gaze down from my face to lock onto the bulging shape clearly outlined in my swimmers trunks.
“We need to cool off,” she said. Her half grin, half scared expression saying enough for the both of us.
“We’ll catch up tomorrow, okay?” I said quietly. She nodded her agreement and said goodnight and slowly, reluctantly walked away.
I watched her plump ass flowing from side to side through her coveralls as she walked away and replayed the vision of her nipples pressing through her bra, t-shirt and the two layers of the pockets on the front of her coveralls, shaking my head in amazement at the thought of what monstrous nipples must be capping her enormous breasts to accomplish such a feat!
****
The next night, with the ship still at sea on our way to Sint Maarten, began innocently enough. We were on the same watch team in CIC and went about our duties in normal fashion and when watch was over, it seemed inevitable that we had an unspoken agreement to meet on the 03 level to talk.
We didn’t dance around the elephant in the room and we agreed that we’d not do anything with each other and that we could just remain “cruise-buddies,” hanging out while off the ship and looking out for each other.
With that out of the way we could relax and get back to enjoying the secret joy of the Sailor; looking out at the endless sea stretched out around us, shimmering in the moonlight. A gentle Caribbean breeze blew over us as we stood leaning on the railing above the ship’s bridge. If we looked straight ahead the illusion that we were slowly flying 40 feet over the black water. What a gorgeous night!
After a bit it got a little chilly and I chose to sit down out of the breeze against some equipment and Elle followed. Instead of sitting beside me however, she sat between my legs and leaned back, using my chest as the back to her seat. She took my wrists and crossed my arms above her chest and held them there, snuggling into the embrace and actually purring like a kitten!
Her warmth and proximity had an immediate effect, I could feel my erection sliding along under my coveralls inside the nylon shorts I used as underwear while aboard ship. The thin slick shorts fit under my swimmer gear and allowed me to change without getting completely naked whenever I had to dress out for flight quarters.
She felt it too and hummed to herself as she rubbed her spine against it, sliding my hands under hers over the taut fabric covering her tits. My senses seemed to become hyper-aware, I felt the remnants of the breeze tickling my face and the backs of my hands, I could hear the sighing of the ship passing through the smooth seas, the Sailors on the bridge going about the task of sailing a warship mere inches below my tailbone. The sound of her coverall zipper slowly opening riveted my attention.
My hands were still where she left them, spread fingered on her tits outside the coveralls, like trying to palm cantaloupe melons, no pun intended. She slid her zipper down to her belly button and pulled her white t-shite up over her bra. Grasping the center of her bra she pulled up and spilled her warm flesh into my waiting hands. Having delivered her precious cargo, she reached behind her and grasped my hard cock trough my coveralls and began rhythmically squeezing and rubbing me through my uniform.
Any thoughts of spousal fidelity evaporated like a snowflake in the Sahara when her yielding flesh enveloped my hands. Her tits were the most amazing combination of soft skin, diamond hard, eraser sized nipples set in saucer sized areolae. Plump like ripe fruit, liquid and flowing, my mind was in overload. She moaned in her throat as I familiarized myself with her breasts and nipples. I gasped when my attention caused her to grip my cock hard. We shushed each other, knowing that the watch standers in the bridge were within earshot of our antics.
She found the lower zipper of my coveralls and raised it to my belt, slithering her hand in to stroke me through my slick shorts. She took hold of my right hand and moved it to her crotch zipper, clear indication for my next step. She replaced my hand on her tit with her own and began to brutalize her nipple between her fingers. I took hold of her zipped and pulled it up to her belt and slipped my hand in over her panties, they felt feminine and lacey.
My fingers made their way around the side of her panties and slid over mild stubble to find her wet folds. She grunted her pleasure and moved her legs and hips to accommodate working space for my fingers. She was so wet I couldn’t differentiate lips from clit for a while. When I managed to slip two fingers into her pussy, her grip on my cock became painful. I dropped my other hand from her left tit to help hold her clothing aside to allow me to work her pussy better. When I did she let go of me and used both her hands to pinch, pull, stretch and mash her nipples to an extent that I’d never seen anyone do before. The visual turned me on and I redoubled my efforts, left hand pulling her coveralls and panties down further while my right hand thumb stroked her clit, index and middle fingers slipped into her pussy and I was able to effortlessly insert my ring finger into her twitching asshole.
It took only seconds for her to reach climax, though to this point it felt like wonderful eternity. I felt her vaginal muscles and anal sphincter begin to spasm on my pumping fingers. Her slick pussy began to pour fluids over my fingers. Before her trembling subsided, she pulled my drenched digits from between her legs and began to suck her juices from them.
When my fingers were clean she put her lovely ladies away and zipped her coveralls closed and I was just beginning to wonder I’d have to have a date with mother thumb and her four daughters later, she knelt down between my still outstretched legs and reached into my still unzipped coveralls with both hands and deftly extracted my cock and balls. The cool night air was a balm to my hot, hard rod.
Elle lowered her face toward my crotch, making herself comfortable laying belly down between my legs, her right hand gently cupped my balls and I could feel her breath on my bare skin. Using her left hand, she pointed my cock at her lips and placed a soft kiss at the sticky tip, then glazed her lips with my pre-cum like a lipstick. She looked up at me over the rims of her glasses and without further foreplay, her lips parted and slowly slid around the large head and down the hard shaft until her face was buried against my pubic mound. I felt my modest seven inches slipping between her teeth, opver her tongue and momentarily bump against the back before Elle adjusted and my fat mushroom head popped further into her throat.
Elle rocked her face against my groin, throat-fucking herself with my tool. It may have been 30 seconds, but I felt every microsecond of it like it was a half hour of exquisite pleasure. She moaned deep in her throat and slowly withdrew my piece from her mouth and began to stoke my wet cock with her left hand while her right hand tugged on my balls and her mouth made love to the head with her lips and tongue. I caressed her face with my hands, especially concentrating on the sensation of my cock sliding in and out of her mouth.
“I’m going to cum!” I whispered desperately to her.
“Mmm-hmm!” was her only reply, as she positioned her lips behind the head of my cock, sucking harder and increasing the speed which she stroked. I let go of her face and clenched my fists, my body became rigid as I silently screamed at the sky, erupting into her greedy mouth! Elle sucked and swallowed and sucked some more, massaging my balls and wringing every last drop of cum onto her waiting tongue. All the while she watched my face, her happy eyes locked with mine. She then methodically licked, sucked and swallowed while my cock slowly diminished and she could neatly tuck my clean equipment back into my shorts.
“Can you believe what we just did?” she quietly exclaimed as she sat beside me and put her head on my shoulder.
“Not in a million years!” I agreed. “Not with the bridge watch right under us, not while underway, not outside!” I said, while thinking of the dozen or so Sailors in the ship’s bridge a few feet below us. I tried not to laugh, the post orgasm glow was making the incredible situation funnier than it should have been. All I could think of was how jealous they’d be if they knew what had happened just over their heads!
“I can’t wait for tomorrow!” we both said in unison, thinking about our time off the ship in Sint Maarten. We stifled our laughter at how in sync we were as we gathered ourselves together to head back into the ship, our separate bunks and a restless night’s sleep before pulling into port the next morning.
(to be continued…)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9tl0am/circumnavigation_pt1_nsfw_mf_romance_oral