I was on a good thing. Thirty dollars for sucking her off and I could make her climax in minutes if I wanted. If I could earn it without wear and tear on my prick, so much the better. "If I've made you happy, I'm happy too," I told her.
She pointed. "Lie down."
I stretched out on the bed. "You don't have to bother with me," I said.
"Lie back!"
I lay back. "It's not necessary," I said. She wasn't listening. She opened a drawer and took out a pot of Vaseline. She sat beside me, opened the pot, scooped out a large dollop of Vaseline and greased her hands.
"Honest," I said. "You mustn't bother about me."
When she'd filmed her hands she sat where she could get at me easily. My prick stood up like a truncheon. She held it delicately, smeared Vaseline around the shaft, over my balls and scrotum and right back to my Brownie.
"Honestly," I protested. "You don't have to toss me off so I won't feel frustrated."
"It's beautifully hot," she crooned. "Young and virile. What do you think I'm paying you for? I want it throbbing, expanding and leaping in my hands. I want to possess it, provoke it and tame it."
I realized then that being tossed-off was part of the deal. She'd got me beautifully greased up. She set to work. She'd handled hundreds of pricks. She was expert. She did everything except make my prick jump through hoops. She made it twitch, leap, throb, jerk and expand to a size I wouldn't have believed possible if I hadn't seen it. She brought me to the brink of climax and held me there until she was ready. Then, while she stroked orgiastic spasms out of me, she watched the pulses of spunk jetting up through my shaft fascinatedly. My seed splattered over her dangling tits and she milked my knob until there was no more juice to flow. I sprawled back weakly, my prick shriveled. She lay it upon my belly and looked down with satisfaction at the glistening dollops of come clinging to her breasts and trickling down over the nipples. "You come beautifully," she told me. "It tones up the flesh and gives breasts youth and vitality."
I was so tired I was content to relax and watch her massage my spunk into her breasts until her fingers were dry and her creamy skin pinkly flushed. She cupped one tit, lifted it and sniffed at it delicately. Her slow, satisfied smile betrayed her thoughts. With her tits snugly encased in a bra, she could walk around inhaling the body-heated aroma of male spunk.
She stood up, tossed me a hand-towel and put on her dressing gown. "That's all, Steward," she said briskly. She sat at her dressing table, making up her face while I wiped my prick clean of Vaseline and got dressed. I cleared my throat. She looked at me through the mirror. "The same tomorrow, Steward?"
"If you wish, Madam."
"The same every day," she confirmed, and turned her attention to her eyebrows.
I was jubilant when I closed her cabin door. Now I had a regular, well-paid job. But I wished she didn't toss me off so expertly. I was already late for Paula and if she cock-sucked me too enthusiastically, I might not be able to get it up at all for Gloria.
Chapter 13
I was living gloriously. This was a new, and a wonderful life. By the time we'd glided through the Panama Canal and cruised out into the vast Pacific I'd settled down very happily. Being a steward easily beat sitting in a pop music office. I had everything going for me. Every day the sun shone magnificently, and at night the velvet sky blazed with great stars. I was stacking up cash too. I'd learned the ropes and become selective. I handled my cards so well I even played hard to get. I stopped visiting Amanda for three days in a row. Then she cornered me and upped the price to fifty dollars to be sucked, and then toss me off. My prick was having the time of its life. It was deluged by pussy and whenever it flagged from too much activity it could depend upon desperate, affectionate girls to stimulate it to renewed interest. Sometimes I made more money in a day than I'd earned in a month at the pop office.
I'd broken with my old way of life and its problems. I was gloriously, gloriously free. My future was rosy. Dave had talked to the Captain and when we docked in Australia I'd get a seaman's card and become a crew member. If I worked hard for a year I'd save enough capital to set up my own pop music business. But who'd be so crazy? Should I give up my steward's job to be trapped in London's concrete jungle? The ship steamed on into the heart of the Pacific. I was truly happy and had only minor conscience pangs. I planned to send money anonymously to Carol. She might guess who it came from, but could never trace me. In time, Lillian would marry and I'd make my peace with my family. I couldn't do anything about Janet but whoever took over my job would be hypnotized by Janet's beautiful ass, screw her and become the Boss's son-in-law. Ruth had no money problems and could always find a lover when she made the effort.
So I was at peace with myself. I'd squared my conscience and everything was wonderful.
Except that the sky suddenly fell on me, smashed my hopes and dreams, and plunged me into suicidal despair.
Dave was waiting when I came off duty, pale and shaking. His voice quavered. "Something terrible's happened!" I knew it must be bad. It needs an earthquake to shake him. He'd brought a bottle of whisky. "Take a big slug before I tell you," he warned. "You'll need it." When he poured, his hand shook so badly the glass clinked violently.
We both took a gulp of whisky. I held mine in my mouth, its fiery bite stinging my tongue. Then I swallowed slowly. It burned all the way down my throat and into my chest where it expanded into a big, warm glow.
"Ready, Mike?"
"Ready."
"The Captain's a good friend," he told me. "He's tipped me off. We'll be arrested when we dock in Australia."
I felt sick. "Us? Arrested?"
"The Captain had to confirm by radio that we're aboard. When the gangplank goes down, well be taken into custody."
I gulped Scotch. It didn't help. I was as cold as ice. Shivers ran though me and my blood congealed.
"They're all after us, Mike," he said mournfully. "They've all joined forces and employed lawyers and detectives. They know we've shipped out together and all of them know about the others. We're deep in the shit, Mike. I didn't tell you everything. It wasn't only the three sisters! There's a married woman whose husband walked in on us; and another girl who's suing for breach of promise."
I took another gulp of Scotch and thawed a little. "I don't see how they can do much."
"They've done everything!" he roared. "They've figured out every angle. They're throwing the book at us. Perhaps they can't prove all the charges but they've made them. The Australian police are loaded with paternity orders, breach of promises and charges of bigamy and even fraud! They've obtained extradition orders and we'll be sent back wearing handcuffs!"
"They can't, Dave," I protested. "We can prove…"
"They've ganged up on us," he said miserably. Tour girls and my girls. And their families! They want our hides. They've all kicked in money to make sure they get them. The sheer weight of the charges they've thought up has worried the Australian police. So even before we're extradited to Britain we'll go to jail. The Australians are all set to arrest you as an illegal immigrant."
I congealed again. "How bad is it all, Dave?"
"Looking on the best side we may escape prison. But we'll be skinned of everything we own and made bankrupt. We'll forfeit our wages for years to come in breach-of-promise and paternity contributions."
"Can't we jump ship?"
"Not a chance. We don't dock until we reach Australia. As soon as we're inside the three-mile limit we'll have the police and Immigration Officers aboard." He eyed me gloomily. "If you can swim three miles you'll have a chance. So will the sharks!"