"No, really, I'm fine," Lynn said hurriedly, "I think maybe I got a little too much sun or something…"
"That must be it," Harry agreed, "Listen, why don't you go up on deck and get some air. Kate and I can do the dishes."
"Oh, no, honestly, I'd be happy to help."
"Go on," laughed Kate. "Any time I can get Harry to help with the dishes, it's an occasion. Don't rob me of the chance."
"Well, if you're sure…" Lynn said hesitantly, wanting above all else to escape the suffocating closeness of the small cabin.
"Lynn, if I'm not sure, my wife is," Harry chuckled, and, indicating the dirty dishes strewn across the table, said, "We'll take care of this mess. You go on topside, the night breeze will perk you right up."
Lynn rose, and eased her slim, sinuous hips along the narrow space between the table and her seat…
"Well, maybe you're right. I do feel a little warm. But tomorrow's dishes are mine, all right?"
"You've got yourself a deal," laughed Kate.
Lynn moved up the companionway leading up to the deck, and then turned again to her hosts.
"Really, it was delicious. I'm just sorry I couldn't do it justice."
Harry and Kate said nothing, but smiled affectionately at her, and she turned to climb the short ladder leading out of the confining cabin into the unhindered freshness of the moonlit, Caribbean night.
"Our guest seems to be a little upset about something," Harry grinned and turned to run a hand suggestively up under his wife's dress on one of her fleshy thighs.
Kate twisted herself on the seat, and arching her back to her powerful husband, moaned seductively, "Ummm, baby… She's not the only one."
"Hey, watch it, kiddo," Harry laughed. "What about those dishes we're supposed to be doing?" Kate didn't answer, but instead, smiled and began unfastening the top button on her husband's Bermuda shorts.
Coming up on deck, Lynn could make out the shadowed figure of Hans, the Vera's husky captain, lounging in the back of the cockpit, one muscled arm resting lightly on the wheel, the other slung lazily across the glistening surface of the deck. She thought she could see the outline of a leer on his face, and she knew his eyes were devouring every move of her petite, seductive body. She hesitated, not knowing whether to acknowledge his presence, and then turned abruptly, climbed out of the cockpit, and made her way to the foredeck. She knew she could not allow herself to be alone with the huge, sex-crazed sailor again. She wanted to throw herself on him, to scratch his eyes out of his face, to beat him mercilessly as he had beaten her, but she knew that he was far too strong for her. She quivered with the intensity of her hate for him, and in an effort to still the shaking of her voluptuous body, she sat on the edge of the raised deckhouse, clasped her smooth arms tightly around her small body, and stared fixedly at the faintly glimmering arch of water coursing off the Vera's bow.
Oh Mark, she cried out silently, why did you let me come on this cruise alone? She raised her head to the shimmering stars that filled the night sky, and thought unconsciously of the incredible distances that lay between herself and them, feeling a depth of loneliness she'd never before experienced in her 30 years. The moon gazed impassively down on her through its halo of invisible cirrus cloud formations, racing 24,000 feet above the earth in a frenzied and unseen contest with a silently speeding jet stream. The gentle surface breeze across the slightly chilled night sea played ring-around-the-rosy with her soft blonde hair, and sent a slight chill down her spine, making her close her eyes with an inaudible sigh.
Oh God, she thought to herself, what should I do? What can I do? The lovely young wife knew she couldn't ignore the attack made on her by the Vera's lust-maddened captain. She knew she must tell Harry Johnson, and that Harry must go with her to the police, to make some kind of complaint, to put this sex maniac in jail, or something. She couldn't just let the whole affair pass unnoticed, acting as though nothing had happened. Harry had to be told what kind of man he was employing, warned about the dangers his captain posed not only to his guests, but to his own wife as well.
These thoughts raced around inside Lynn's beautiful head, playing tag all the while with an undefined fear: a fear that to create an unpleasant scene aboard the Vera, to involve the police, to prosecute Hans, would automatically mean publicity. She knew that Harry Johnson was a very private man, and she was terribly afraid that to create any kind of scandal would destroy any willingness Harry had to cement his business deal with her husband, Mark. And that was the most important thing occupying her mind. If the deal fell through now, Lynn knew that it would be all her fault. All Mark's plans, his ambitions, would be ruined simply because his silly young wife had not known how to take care of herself. All his dreams of success would be forfeit, and who knows what effect that would have on their marriage. Lynn knew that she could not afford to create a scandal aboard the Vera, and her mind reeled between the desire to exact some kind of vengeance on the man who had so brutally violated her, and the fear that to exact that vengeance might destroy all chance of helping her husband take the next step upward on his all-important ladder of success.
Lynn lay down on the deck, trying to let the cool night air wash the tension out of her, drain her of the worry, the shame, and above all, the need to make a decision. Her delicate head rested uneasily on the deck, framed between the rail of the ship and the small, open porthole sunk into the teak wall of the raised deckhouse. Her arm hung over the side of the ship, sprayed every so often by the wake created by the cutting edge of the Vera's bow. Her imperceptibly quivering thighs spread themselves slightly, easing the pressure on the two still-swollen lips of her recently violated vagina, and a moist drop of Hans' sperm escaped unnoticed down between her small, rounded buttocks. She moaned, unconsciously feeling the warm, protective arms of her husband encircling her, giving her a security only he could.
Mark, she sighed, I need you here with me. An aching desire filled her breast as her thoughts turned from the torture of her present situation to comforting visions of her husband. Lynn knew she had always needed him, had needed him from the first time she had seen him. That first time at the New Year's Eve party, all their dates together, and that first night when their passionate love for each other had led them to the physical point of no return.
Lynn sighed aloud, remembering with pleasure their first experience of the joys of sexually giving themselves to each other completely. They had come home from an early movie, still tingling from the petting and necking that had occupied most of their attention in the film and in the car on the way home. Lynn had been living at her parents' house, but they hadn't been home that night, and the note they left said they wouldn't be back until very late. Lynn and Mark had sauntered out into the small back-yard, clinging together, rubbing thigh against thigh, shoulder and leg against shoulder and leg. In the back, by the small greenhouse, before either of them knew it, they were on the soft green grass, their shared lust consuming all rationality. Mark was kissing her, his feverish hands were unzipping her dress, tearing off her flimsy brassiere and then his hand was suddenly squeezing and cupping the softness of one of her nakedly-exposed breasts, his lips leaving her mouth to suckle one trembling nipple hungrily. His other hand was still peeling the dress from her hungry loins, down off her writhing hips, down past her moist pubic hair, down her legs, and she… Lord, yes, she helped kick off her restraining silk panties. And then he tore at his clothes making both of them naked, and Lynn gasped at the immensity of his hard-swollen cock jutting so hugely from his loins. Then he was between her legs, on top of her, and her brain was a seething cauldron of uncontrollable desire. She called to him that she was a virgin, but he was beyond hearing, and she… yes, she was silently begging for his huge penis to rip through her hymen and fill her moist pink-rimmed pussy to its fullest, to surge into her untouched young belly, slide through the hair-covered, desire-moistened valley and fill her with his throbbing hardness. She was ready, and her hair flailed around her moaning face, her taut young breasts trembling on her chest as she prepared herself for him, for the first taste of masculine entrance.