Wealthy Depraved Bitch
[aka 'The Cabin Boy']
by Grant Roberts 


FOREWORD 

Among the factors distinguishing our society from others less complex has 
always been the high proportion of reformers to be found among us. No sooner 
do we create a system, a machine, an organism, than we must improve it, 
eliminate its faults, amend it to conform better with the changing structure 
of its environment. The anarchy of primitive man is replaced by the 
paternalism of the feudal system; the xenophobia of tribal castes eventually 
gives way to universal franchise and integration; the abacus develops into 
the computer; the Tin Lizzie evolves into the Cadillac. But the process 
itself too often beats within it the seeds of its own destruction: the 
horticulturist who metamorphoses the wild briar into the hybrid tea rose has 
to contend with the contrary forces of nature. 

The pioneer in this field must forever be looking over his shoulder lest his 
work be menaced by the mutant among the carefully planned genes, the rogue 
male in the herd. 

Especially is this true of the reformers in our own time, for unlike their 
predecessors they postulate the broader, rather than the narrower view; the 
permissive rather than the restrictive and ascetic approach. The chances of 
"something going wrong" are thus proportionately increased as the spectrum 
of accepted change widens. And the danger inherent in the syndrome is this: 
that such destructive elements are self-propagating while those of o more 
benign temper continually hove to be renewed from without. The old simile of 
the rotten apple in-the barrel is not inapposite, for the perverting effects 
of one degenerate in o climate of sexual permissiveness, however timely and 
well-intentioned its beginnings, could conceivably snowball in such o way 
that the whole of society would find itself threatened. 

We are grateful to Author Grant Roberts for his challenging illustration of 
this somber theme in this forthright and penetrating novel. With masterly 
insight, he shows how the young American couple, Robert and Joanna Grant, 
themselves unaware, their marriage in need of the brooder horizons that only 
the new freedoms con bring, react when they encounter one such "rotten 
apple." Len Bonner and his wife Harriet are rich, bored, and degenerate. 
When their evil talents combine with those of the rascally steward Alfred 
Maddon aboard the cruise ship Arcadia, the combination is hard to withstand. 

The Grants, typical enough of thousands of decent young Americans, are 
inhibited and immature. Through the Bonners they become aware of -- and 
come-to terms with -- the deeper sexual drives hidden within them. On o 
superficial level they are better off. But there is, however, the price to 
pay: their standards, stuffy perhaps but undeniably "correct," hove become 
debased to the level of the Bonners. Through the agency of Len Bonner, their 
futures seem assured, but they hove lost their innocence. Worse, in 
illustration of our thesis, they are about to spread the disreputable gospel 
according to Len Bonner. . and there is no guarantee that those whom they 
contaminate will not themselves disseminate the bad seed on ground more 
fertile still! 

-The Publisher 

 Chapter One 

Joanna Grant gazed at the reflection of her breasts in the stateroom mirror. 
They were full, firm and high-set. Standing naked as she was in front of the 
make-up shelf, the thin strip of glass screwed to the paneled wall showed 
her only the image of her body from shoulder to waist. But the close-up view 
served to emphasize the taut, voluptuous outlines of her most photogenic 
feature and the wide separation between them. She stared a few seconds more 
at the twin mounds of ripely swelling flesh and the rose-pink nipples at 
their tips, and then she stepped across the cabin and opened the closet door 
beyond the bed. 

In the full-length minor fixed to its inner side, she could see the whole of 
herself: the slender, tapering legs, the flat curve of her belly with its 
triangle of fair pubic hair, the soft hollow of her waist, her head with the 
blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders . . . and of course those breasts. 
Her face wasn't bad, she supposed, with its wide blue eyes, straight nose 
and generous mouth. But it wasn't for that that she was so much in demand by 
the advertising agencies in Southern California: it was the contours she 
gave to sweaters and shirts and swimsuits that made her one of the most 
popular photographic models in the state. 

Joanna cupped her hands under her breasts and scrutinized them again. She 
was lucky --- no matter what she did, they never lost their firmness or 
their shape. People had tried to persuade her to pose for different kinds of 
pictures, of course. Girlie magazines and calendars for tired businessmen. 
But she wasn't going to allow her body to be lusted over by every lecher on 
the coast. Bob would never stand for it anyway. 

They had only been married a year, and he was already getting uptight about 
her posing for photographers at all. But his salary as a commercial artist 
just wasn't enough to support them both. They were still a long way off the 
deposit they needed for that dream house in the plush Hollywood suburb they 
had decided on, So for the moment Joanna was still working. As soon as he 
was earning enough, though, her husband had warned her, it had to stop. 

Bob was just great. He was tall, dark and athletic. He couldn't be more 
tender or considerate. Just occasionally though, she thought wistfully, 
running the palms of her hands over the swell of her hips -- she wished he 
was a little more . . . well, adventurous . . . in bed. Last night, for 
instance, if he had just gone on a little longer, or tried something a 
little different . . . 

She sighed, her eyes looking still at the reflection in the mirror, noting 
the pink nipples that had suddenly become stiff and erect. Her fingers moved 
slowly across the smooth curve of her belly, brushing against the soft hairs 
mantling her pussy. As the familiar electric sensation tingled through her 
loins, she glanced momentarily over her shoulder at the bed. Could she do it 
now? Was there time before . . .? 

No. She was due on deck in five minutes to partner Bob in the third round of 
the deck-tennis tournament. And Bob was a stickler for punctuality. It would 
be too awful if he came down to look for her and found her like that! 

Closing the closet door, she pulled open a drawer and took out bikini 
panties, a white ribbed cotton shirt, and a pair of white leather hot-pants. 
But which brassiere should she wear? The thin shirt clung to her like a 
second skin: should she play safe and put on the boned lace one that held 
her so firmly, or dare she try the new lightweight sling brassiere she had 
bought in New York before the cruise -- the one with the points cut away so 
that her nipples poked through? 

For a moment she hesitated. There were always rows of older passengers 
sitting in deck chairs watching the games. She knew the men among them 
watched with lustful eyes -- and the women tutted disapprovingly -- every 
time a girl appeared in anything remotely revealing. 

And then suddenly she shrugged. What the hell! Why should she care what a 
lot of dirty old men thought . . . or their dried up, frustrated wives? 

But supposing Bob thought the brassiere was -- what would he call it? -- 
immodest! He'd been excited enough when she tried it on in the hotel room, 
but he might not be so happy for other men to see the exciting effect. 

She tossed d her head. He told her often enough that she had a lovely body: 
she was 22 years old, and if he expected her to hide it, that was just his 
bad luck! 

Rummaging in the drawer, she found the new brassiere and shrugged into it, 
reaching up behind her back to snap the fastener and then pinching the tips 
of her breasts through the gaps in the cups so that the thin garment fitted 
snugly against her voluptuously swelling curves. The touch of her fingers 
erected the nipples again, and the twin points showed clearly against the 
ribbed material of the shirt when she pulled it on. 

Never mind, she mused. If people wanted to think dirty thoughts, that was 
their business! Drawing the tight leather hot pants up over her shapely 
thighs and hips, she thrust her feet into a pair of sneakers and hurried out 
of the cabin. 

On the games deck ten minutes later, Len Bonner turned to his wife and said 
softly: "Jeez, honey! Would you look at the tits on that kid!" 

Harriet Bonner shifted her own well-upholstered body in the deck chair and 
stretched her long brown legs in the sun. She had known ever since the S. S. 
Arcadia had passed through the Straits of Gibraltar that Len was interested 
in Joanna Grant and her husband. The cruise had been her idea. Len was a big 
wheel in advertising back home in California, and the pressures of business 
were exhausting, but she had finally persuaded him that he must take a 
vacation or crack up. Now that they were in the Eastern Mediterranean and 
nearing the return leg of their voyage, however, he was becoming bored. The 
Bonnets were leading lights in a wife-swap syndicate in Beverly Hills and 
Len missed the excitement and the challenge that this provided. 

Harriet shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun and squinted sideways 
at her husband. He was leaning forward in the low canvas chair, his eyes 
riveted on the nubile figure of Joanna Grant as she capered to and fro 
behind the shoulder-high deck-tennis net. "Just dig them bouncing tits, 
honey!" he breathed again. "Man, I wouldn't mind wading barefoot through 
that little lot!" 

His wife smiled indulgently. "If you could only make first base, lover," she 
said teasingly, "I'm not saying I wouldn't play. The boy's got a good body: 
he could interest me if he wasn't so Goddamn square. 

Len scowled as Bob Grant retrieved an impossible return and skimmed the 
quoit back over the net to win a point. "That punk!" he grunted. "Why, I bet 
he hasn't got two cents to rub together. If you ask me, his old man -- or 
hers -- coughed up the loot to pay for this trip. Yet he acts as though he 
knew it all! Toffee-nosed kids like that make me puke!" 

Harriet smiled again. "That's my boy!" she said. She knew the sign's. Len 
was a self-made man. He had worked his way up from messenger boy through 
copywriter to account executive -- and now that he was director of one of 
the biggest advertising agencies on the Coast. He found it hard to swallow 
the airs and graces of these college boys who thought they could get in half 
way up the ladder. He had been angry when the Grants had cold-shouldered his 
back-slapping attempts to make friends at the beginning of the cruise, and 
so he was determined to break them down now, whatever the cost. 

That was what she liked about her husband, Harriet reflected, eyeing his 
powerful shoulders and lean body: Len was a fighter and he never gave up. 
She let her gaze rove languidly over his intent figure . . . the outthrust 
head with its determined chin, the deep chest and muscled thighs stretching 
the thin material of his sharkskin pants, the strong, tanned hands with 
their blue-veined backs. 

She was pretty lucky on the whole, she thought. They had been married nearly 
ten yearn. She was 32 and he was 37, and they had the perfect relationship. 
He was a boisterous drinking man, crude and ribald, coarse and sometimes 
brutal with his women, laying whoever he could get wherever he could get her 
-- a typical super-salesman, in fact. But he looked after her well. And if 
he had his own sexual adventures on the side, at least he allowed her to do 
the same. Nothing was barred providing each partner told the other all about 
it. It was probably this which made their marriage more exciting than 
anything else -- and since neither of them let their affairs progress beyond 
the physical stage, it drew them closer together than ever. Len was pretty 
good in bed, too. She shivered reminiscently, remembering his hands on her 
body the previous night. 

The quoit landed on the deck near her feet, and Joanna Grant bent down to 
pick it up. A tiny curl of blonde pubic hair protruded from the legband of 
the leather hot pants stretched tightly over the rounded cheeks on her 
buttocks. "You know what," Len murmured as he watched her run back onto the 
court, "I'll bet she isn't even wearing a bra under that top!" He fingered a 
fat cigar from a crocodile case and stuck it between his lips, watching the 
gentle bouncing of Joanna's breasts under the light cotton as she 
spring-heeled back to the baseline, caught a hot serve low down, and lobbed 
the rubber ring gently back over the net to confound her opponents and win 
another point. 

"Don't you believe it," Harriet said comfortably. "With tits that big she 
has to have a bra. Nobody's got a figure that good! She probably picked up 
one of those sexy sling affairs that leave the nipples free. Say -- maybe 
that's an idea at that! With one of those and no panties, I could have my 
fun without having to undress, even on a stuffy cruise ship like this!" 

Len wasn't listening. He was staring fascinated at the moving network of 
creases wrinkling the taut leather of Joanna's hot pants where they plunged 
between the tight spheres of her buttocks. Man, he thought to himself again, 
I'd give a whole stack of greenbacks to get me a basinful of that stuff! And 
he was sure he could do it, if it wasn't for that punk of a husband. He'd 
gotten himself quite a friendly smile from the girl back in the bar at 
lunchtime, when he'd made some damn fool crack as he ordered his drinks. But 
the kid had cut him out, moved her coolly away down the bar to talk with 
some highfalutin' East Coast slickers who owned a place in Bermuda and drank 
nothing but sherry. 

Sherry! he thought disgustedly, scowling at Bob Grant as the boy flicked his 
wrist and sent an ace service spinning over the net. That was all they were 
fit to drink, these college kids! Show `em a man's drink and they folded up 
after the third round! 

He knew the type too well. He'd seen hundreds like this punk, fresh in the 
big, bad world of business and knowing it all. He could spot them a mile 
off, with their button-down shirts and their Ivy League suits, their 
carefully cultivated Boston accents and their hair just long enough to be 
fashionable. They hadn't had to fight to get ahead the way he had. Their 
parents had put them through school and then conned some business friend 
into giving them a break, and now they thought they could run the world. 
Well, he'd learned a thing or two about life and living that would make 
their longhair toes curl! They figured they'd change everything with their 
endless demonstrations against this and that setup that they hadn't enough 
experience to understand. Maybe he didn't understand these things too well 
either -- but he sure knew about people. And one of the things he knew best 
was that there was nothing people wouldn't do, given the right 
circumstances. By God, he'd make certain those circumstances were right for 
the couple he was watching now! 

It would be a change from the old wife-swap routine they'd gotten into back 
home, a genuine seduction. It was always fun taking a couple, especially an 
innocent, prim young couple like this. You chatted them up and you fed them 
liquor; you played on their childish notions of freedom and you worked on 
their vanity, easing them into a social life that they thought was modern 
and liberal -- and then suddenly, before they knew what was happening, they 
were watching each other get screwed silly by someone they hardly knew! 

This little doll in the white leather pants was really something, though; 
and apart from the fact that he really wanted to give it to her, he'd enjoy 
seeing the expression on that young punk's prissy face the first time he saw 
his wife getting a fuck thrown to her by some other man! It would be great 
to bring him down a peg or two. But it might take a little more work and 
planning than some of them did; things might need . . . well, fixing a 
little. Len grinned to himself in anticipation. He was a good fixer. 

He turned and looked at his own wife. Harriet was staring out over the sea. 
Beyond the shimmering blue of the Mediterranean, a dark smudge on the 
horizon marked the coastline of Israel. In 24 hours the Arcadia would be 
stopping off at Iskenderun. After that it was Istanbul, Pieracus, Naples, 
and Cannes before they headed for the Atlantic and home. There was plenty of 
time and the weather was good. Len always found that helped. 

He studied his wife's profile. She'd worn pretty well, he figured, since 
he'd picked her out of a nightclub in downtown San Francisco where she'd 
acted as a hat check girl and sold cigarettes from a tray slung around her 
naked shoulders. The wings of dark hair drawn back into the chignon at the 
nape of her slender neck were still glossy and soft. Her sensually full lips 
still held the promise of infinite delight. And the swelling mounds of her 
breasts thrusting up the thin flowered material of her blouse as she lay in 
the deck chair were as full and firm as they ever were. When it came to the 
crunch, Len thought, he didn't have much to complain of: really there was 
nobody like Harriet. Especially in bed. 

He looked up suddenly as a patter of applause echoed around the games deck. 
Bob and Joanna Grant had won their match. As the couple, flushed and 
smiling, walked off the court with their arms around one another's 
shoulders, Len flashed them a friendly grin and called out: 
"Congratulations! You two sure showed them how it should be done!" 

Joanna looked up into her husband's eyes and then smiled at Len. "Why thank 
you," she said. "We enjoyed the pine." Bob Grant nodded coolly and moved her 
away towards a group of passengers waiting for them near the companionway 
leading down to "B" Deck. 

Harriet yawned and stretched her arms above her head, tilting her breasts 
provocatively as she stretched out in the deck chair. "I guess I'll go on 
down and get ready for dinner," she said. "you coming, lover?" 

Her husband shook his head. "Think I'll stick around for awhile," he said. 
`There's - uh . . . a couple things I'd like to attend to, and there's still 
a half hour or so of sunlight, so maybe I should --" 

"Okay, okay," Harriet interrupted with a conspiratorial smile. `I get it. 
Like gentlemen prefer blondes! Just play it cool, baby, that's all." 

"Now see here Harriet . . ." Len began. But his wife had waved her hand and 
gone. He shrugged and strolled up towards the group of passengers clustered 
around the far end of the deck-tennis court, flicking a gold lighter and 
holding the flame to his still unlit cigar as he went. 

The Grants were just breaking away from their admiring friends as the 
advertising man approached. Behind them a ventilator cast a long bar of 
shadow across the deck in the setting sun. 

"Like I say, "Len Bonner opened breezily, "that was a great game you two 
played! In fact I think this calls for a celebration. How's about joining me 
for a drink down in the saloon?" He blew out a cloud of cigar smoke and 
fanned it away from his face with one hand. 

"Well that's real kind of you . . ." Joanna Grant started to say, but her 
husband cut her short. "Nice of you, Bonner," he said curtly, "but I'm 
afraid we already promised to have an aperitif with someone else. Another 
time perhaps." 

"Sure, Bob," Len said easily. "Some other time." But the muscles around his 
mouth and nose, as he turned away to flick the ash from his cigar, were 
pinched and white with anger. 

Alfred Maddon soft-footed down the passageway on the starboard side of "B" 
Deck humming quietly to himself. There were twelve staterooms in his section 
to attend to, including the Bonners' and the Grants', and part of his duties 
as cabin steward was to turn down the beds before he retired to his galley 
to await the inevitable calls for drinks, fresh towels and soap, and other 
attentions demanded by the passengers as they dressed for dinner. 

Maddon was a Cockney, a lithe, tanned man with a lined face and rogue's eyes 
glinting above the hairline mustache on his upper lip. He had been working 
the Arcadia for five years now, and there was little he didn't know about 
passengers and their wants -- or how to turn these to his own advantage. 

He knew where the most risqu' nightclubs were at every port of call. He 
could advise on the best curio shops and souvenir stalls; he would give 
introductions to the floorwalkers at the better stores and he had an in with 
cab drivers and even customs men. Exotic restaurants and worthwhile 
sightseeing tours were his specialty . . . and he received a kickback from 
every one of them. 

He radiated a cocky, confident assurance and there was a certain charm and 
animal virility about him that made him especially successful with 
unattached female passengers -- and sometimes attached ones as well. Maddon 
was a man, in fact, with fingers in many pies, most of them lucrative. Among 
other sidelines he smuggled contraband ashore and on board -- and he was not 
above a spot of gentle blackmail to swell his own private treasury if his 
conquests happened to have money. 

He paused now outside the door of Stateroom 12 and straightened his white 
mess jacket. He had done half a dozen cabins and there were still six more 
to attend to before he was free to go back to the galley and watch for the 
call-lights flickering on his indicator board. This one wouldn't take him a 
minute: he had seen the Bonners sitting out on the games deck twenty minutes 
ago, and there was no point in turning over their stuff before they came 
back. Len Dormer was far too much of a tightwad to leave any dollar bills 
lying around in his dresser drawer. Maddon turned the handle and went in. 

Walking straight across to the far side of the stateroom, he pulled the 
curtains across the porthole, turned around, and froze. 

Mrs. Bonner was lying on the bed in a filmy negligee, an open book face 
downwards on the covers by her outstretched hand. Her dark hair was undone 
and spread around her head on the pillow in a soft cloud. Above the loosely 
tied belt the voluptuous swelling of her breasts showed through the opened 
"vee" of the garment. Maddon caught his breath. He could see that she was 
wearing nothing underneath it. Two dark circles of flesh around the upthrust 
nipples and a shadow of pubic hair below the smooth curve of her belly were 
clearly visible through the semi-transparent material. 

"Oh," he stammered. "I . . . I . . . I beg pardon, ma'am. I didn't realize 
you was here. Sorry, I'm sure. I'll come back later." 

"That's all right, Alfred," Harriet said lazily, looking up at him from 
under her long lashes. "Do you want to do the bed? Would you like me to 
move?" She shifted her body slightly on the wide bunk, causing the 
tantalizingly mounded breasts to quiver beneath the folds of diaphanous 
material. The open "vee" at the top of the robe gaped wider, revealing more 
of the tender curves swelling upwards and outwards towards Harriet's 
still-covered nipples. At one side, a half moon of darkly puckered skin slid 
lasciviously into view. 

The steward swallowed. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the deep cleft 
between those seductively rounded mounds of flesh. "N-n-no thanks," he 
mumbled. "That's quite all right, 

Mrs. Bonnet. I'll come back later when you're . . . when you're dressed." 

Harriet smiled. "Would you rather see me dressed, Alfred?" she asked softly. 
"Or do you prefer me like this?" She moved one of her long tapered legs and 
the two halves of the flimsy garment fell apart below the waist, exposing a 
smoothly sculptured thigh. 

Maddon didn't quite know what to say. He was familiar enough with the scene, 
it was no news to him to be alone in a cabin before dinner with a 
sex-starved woman. Why, only last night he'd stuffed it up that 20-year-old 
redhead in B-9 whose parents seemed to think she was still in third grade. A 
piece of cake, that had been! But there was usually a very good reason why 
his conquests didn't have a man: either they were old, or they were ugly, or 
they were inexperienced. A well-stacked dish like this brunette on the bunk 
-- that was something else! Sexy pieces like that -- and, God, she was a 
sexy looking bitch all right! -- didn't lie too thick on the pound in the 
world of Alfred Maddon. 

This one was lying right here on the bed, though. And -- surely he couldn't 
be mistaken? -- she was giving him the old come-on as clearly ever he'd got 
the green light! He could see practically the whole of those luscious 
breasts. Every curve of her belly was visible through that filmy nightdress 
thing. And -- yes! -- there was a tiny curl of pubic hair showing where it 
had fallen open at the top of her thigh. 

But what could her angle be? Why would a woman like that be propositioning 
him? Was that great bull of a husband a secret fairy? Or was it just that 
she was a nympho and he couldn't give her enough? Mentally, the steward 
shrugged. He should worry? If it was being offered to him on a plate, he'd 
take it -- with both hands! 

"I think you're very beautiful, Mrs. Bonner," he said boldly. "Dressed or 
undressed." 

"Why that's mighty nice of you, Alfred," Harriet said softly. "And mighty 
flattering too. But then of course you haven't seen me undressed, have you?" 

Not yet I haven't, Maddon thought to himself. But it won't belong now, will 
it? Under the tight gabardine of his pants, he felt his penis flex and then 
jerk slightly as it lengthened and stiffened into erection. And I know where 
that's going to be in a few minutes too, he thought. But all he said aloud 
was: "No, ma'am, of course I haven't." 

Harriet reached back over her head for a pack of cigarettes lying on a shelf 
behind the bunk. The movement lifted one of her breasts so that the tautly 
swelling mound thrust away the thin material of the negligee and now he 
could see, in the shadow under the edge of the garment, the whole dark 
circle of the aureole and the bud-like nipple at its center. The still 
little button of flesh was tantalizingly hard and erect. 

The voluptuous brunette tapped a cigarette from the pack and put it between 
her lips. "Do you have a light on you?" she drawled. 

Maddon fished a Ronson from the pocket of his white mess jacket and thumbed 
it into flame. As he leaned forward, Harriet rolled over onto one elbow and 
guided the hand holding the lighter towards the end of the cigarette with 
her fingertips. Her coolly exciting touch on his skin sent flickers of 
desire racing through the Cockney's veins. Deep down in his testicles he 
felt the familiar ache begin, and the pressure on his burgeoning cock was 
becoming unbearable. 

"Thank you," Harriet said, blowing a lungfull of smoke towards him and 
watching him quizzically through its gently wreathing layers. "Tell me, 
Alfred," she went on conversationally . . . "would you like to see me 
undressed?" One of her breasts was completely naked now, lewdly and 
obscenely exposed to his lustful gaze. 

"You know I would," the steward replied hoarsely. 

Harriet smiled demurely and pulled the edges of the negligee together. "Has 
anyone ever told you that you have a most interesting face yourself?" she 
asked. She was staring deliberately and openly at the tightly bulging crotch 
of his dark mess pants. Beneath the hem of the white jacket, a spreading 
patch of moisture gleamed darker still against the out-thrust material. 

Maddon said nothing. For a moment there was no sound in the cabin but the 
distant pounding of the Arcadia's engines as she steamed northwards into the 
gathering dusk. 

"Well, have they?" the American girl insisted. 

"Yes, ma'am . . . I mean no, ma `am." 

Harriet laughed. "If they haven't, it's time they did! You're a very 
attractive man, Alfred" 

"Thank you, ma'am." 

She was still staring at the growing patch on his pants marking the progress 
of the wetly seeping head of his expanding penis. "My, you're well stacked 
in there!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you?" 

"I don't know, ma'am" the steward said woodenly. 

"You don't know?" 

Maddon decided that the time was ripe. It was now or never. He'd take the 
risk and jump in with both feet. His manner became at once less deferential 
and more assured. "Well I mean, it's not for me to say, is it?" he replied. 

Harriet transferred her gaze to his face and raised her eyebrows. 

"I mean to say," the Cockney pursued, "it's the kind of thing you have to 
find out for yourself, isn't it?" 

"Oh, it's the kind of thing I have to find out for myself, is it?" the 
brunette repeated, her sensuous lips twisting into a slow smile. 

"Course it is. Matter of personal opinion. You want to find out for 
yourself? Would you like to have a look"" Maddon leered. 

Harriet sat up suddenly on the bunk and swung her legs to the floor. "Yes," 
she said briskly. "I would. Take out your cock and let me have a look!" 

For a fraction of a second the steward's eyes opened wide with astonishment. 
He hadn't expected it would be this easy. Then his hands dived for his 
pants. In a moment he had unzipped his fly and dragged aside his shirt and 
shorts. 

Len Bonner's wife stifled a cry of surprise as Maddon's massively upstanding 
cock sprang free of the confining garments. She bad known from the size of 
the bulge at his crotch that he must be well endowed -- but she was not 
prepared for anything like this! The thick, fleshy rod stood out from the 
sparse and wiry hairs of his loins like the trunk of a giant tree. Above the 
pulsating veins marbling the sides of its quivering shaft, the purplish, 
blood-engorged head was emerging from the foreskin like a slavering animal 
in search of its prey. From the wetly glistening slit at its bulbous tip, a 
tiny thread of clear seminal fluid swayed downwards on its way to the carpet 
beneath the bed. Harriet licked her lips in lewd anticipation. "I said you 
were a good-looking man," she murmured breathlessly, reaching across and 
stubbing out her cigarette in an ashtray on the shelf. 

She leaned forward from her position at the edge of the bed, crooning softly 
with obscene pleasure as she stretched out her hands towards the steward's 
gently bobbing penis. Plunging her left hand into the gaping fly of his 
pants, she felt for the soft hair-covered pouch of his testicles and eased 
it out into the air as she seized his cock in the fingers of her other hand. 

The steward was already grasping his rigidly extended rod of flesh between 
the fingers and thumb of his right hand. As Harriet's cool fingertips 
brushed seductively against his own over the blood-knotted veins on the 
shaft, he threw back his head and uttered a strangled cry. 

He could feel her breath playing warmly over the sensitive cock-head. The 
moist tender flesh was pulsing wildly as though a separate heart beat within 
its blood-swollen tip. Grinding his teeth, Maddon arched his aching loins 
and thrust himself nearer her lewdly pursed lips. 

Abruptly, the voluptuous brunette lowered her face a fraction and began to 
kiss the satiny skin of the huge bulbous head. The steward jerked 
involuntarily at the searing contact of her mouth. More blood surged into 
the iron-hard shaft, inflating it to even greater hardness as she sucked and 
nibbled moistly at the sensitive flesh. 

She curled her fingers and thumb around the hotly pulsating member, 
massaging the loose foreskin up and down its rigid length until the warm 
droplets of male pre-cum seeping from its tip had moistened the whole of 
Maddon's throbbing cock. 

"Ooooooooh!" he groaned, twitching convulsively beneath her expert touch. 
"That's so goooooood!" 

For a moment Harriet withdrew her dark head and gazed in lewd fascination at 
the wetly gleaming rod she was holding. And then, cradling the steward's 
balls in one hand, she guided the pulsing tip with the other, and her 
honey-soft mouth came down over the smooth rubbery head, her ovalled lips 
enclosing the sensitive flesh with scalding moistness. 

Maddon moaned in ecstasy. His cock jerked massively in her mouth and the 
tingling ache in his balls increased until it was almost unbearable. He took 
his own fingers away from his penis and put the palms of both trembling 
hands on the top of Harriet's head as she began to suck at his wildly 
throbbing rod. 

Inside her mouth, she flicked her tongue, twirling it in licking circles 
around the madly pulsing glans, probing with the tip at the tiny slit that 
now gaped widely in the blood-engorged head. 

The Cockney steward was in a trance of sensual enjoyment. The very thought 
of what this beautiful American passenger was doing to him, the lewd 
salaciousness of the act itself, aroused him erotically almost as much as 
the actual sensations she produced with her lips and tongue. Gasping aloud 
with the intensity of his emotion, he pressed his hands hard down on the 
crown of her head, forcing the thick pole of flesh forward into her 
slavering mouth. 

Tensing his loins as he thrust, he could feel his cock plunge deeper and 
deeper into the back of her throat. As he looked down, he saw with rising 
excitement that almost the whole glistening length of it had disappeared 
between Harriet's tightly locked lips. 

She could feel the bulbous cock-head sliding wetly along the length of her 
tongue now, the tiny droplets of seminal fluid oozing from the tip filling 
the warm cavern of her mouth with their pungent masculine taste. Slowly, she 
began a steady rhythmic movement of her head up and down on him. Maddon 
groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair to guide her slavishly bobbing 
head as it pistoned back and forth along his gleaming rod. In all of his 
experience he had never before enjoyed such intense sexual gratification as 
this, and he abandoned himself to the lewd ministrations of the brunette's 
voraciously sucking mouth. 

He felt an increase in the speed of her moving head and in the pressure 
exerted on him by her lips, which seemed to make his pulsating cock expanded 
to an even greater hardness. Her tongue was still swirling in a caressing 
lick of his painfully sensitive cock-head on every outstroke. 

Blimey! he thought to himself. This is it! This is the bleedin' works, this 
is! And aloud he moaned: "Go on . . . go on . . . faster! Suck it harder, 
darlin'. Oh, you darling . . . Ooooooh!" 

Cradling his soft smooth testicles gently between her two hands, Harriet 
grazed her fingernails tantalizingly over the lust-inflated flesh. 

Maddon squirmed with licentious desire and began a slow undulation of his 
hips beside the bed, his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth with a 
lewd wet sluicing sound. His fingers clenched more tightly in her long dark 
hair as he forced her head down on him, and a triumphant grin spread over 
his artful face as he looked down again and saw the rigidly glistening shaft 
of his cock ramming brutally into her contorted face. As he thrust himself 
ever more forcefully into her mouth and throat, he watched in fascination as 
a little of the soft pink flesh from the inside of the brunette's lips was 
pulled out on each of the upstrokes and then stuffed back into her mouth as 
she absorbed him on the downstrokes. Her cheeks were hollowing in and out as 
she sucked hungrily on his now angry red rod of flesh -- Christ, but it was 
good! He wanted it to go on forever . . . but as the thought came to him he 
knew it wouldn't, couldn't; already he could feel the trembling, searing 
birth of his approaching orgasm. 

Incoherent, strangling sounds forced themselves out from far down in his 
throat. He could feel the wave beginning to surge up from deep in his loins. 
Soon he would shoot his load, spurting his streaming white sperm full into 
Harriet Bonner's greedily working throat. The sweet agony of the pent-up 
sensations within him seemed to concentrate in the lust-bloated head of his 
rigid cock. He could feel it pulsing -- expanding and inflating even more 
with every throbbing jerk as her maddeningly expert tongue caressed it on 
every single stroke. 

With lust-dimmed eyes, the ship steward stared at the face of the half naked 
woman working over him. She seemed to be in a sexual rapture all of her own, 
with her eyes closed and her breath laboring through flared nostrils. Then, 
as he looked beyond, down past the gaping edges of the negligee beneath 
which her firmly rounded breasts were dancing lewdly, he saw that one of her 
hands was now working rhythmically at the darkly hair-covered triangle of 
her own loins. 

God! he thought. She's finger-fucking herself while she sucks me! If she's 
as crazy to cum as that, why don't we make a twosome of it? I'm only getting 
half the perishing fun standing here and I could do with a basinful of that 
hot little pussy she's got down there! 

But it was now or never: if her lasciviously clinging lips continued their 
madly exciting travel up and down his bursting cock, he'd cum himself at any 
moment! He must stop himself . . . now . . . ! before it was too late and he 
spurted his scalding load into her throat. More than anything else in the 
world he wanted to go down on that seething pussy and stuff his tongue up 
into her cunt! 

Clenching his teeth, the lust-inflamed steward acted. Pushing Harriet's head 
violently away from him, he drew back his hips with a sharp jerking motion 
and withdrew his huge, pulsating cock from between her lips. 

The gleaming cudgel sprang free with an obscene wet sucking sound and stood 
thickly erect above his sperm-bloated balls, --still joined to her 
glistening lips with a swaying thread of saliva. For a moment she stared 
wide-eyed at its pulsating length, now scarlet and throbbing from the 
ministrations of her lips and tongue . . . and then, before she could utter 
a word, Maddon had seized her shoulders and thrust her roughly back on the 
bed. 

With an inarticulate cry of passion, he ripped the flimsy negligee from her 
voluptuous body and threw himself face downwards across the swelling curves 
of softly pulsing female flesh on the cabin bunk. 

Planting his knees on either side of her shoulders, he grasped the insides 
of her sensuously rounded thighs and wrenched them wide apart as he sank his 
head towards the dark triangle of curling pubic hair at her loins, and the 
layered pink edges of the moist vaginal slit at its center. 

Almost instinctively, Harriet reached for the massive cock swaying obscenely 
above her passion-contorted face and guided its lust-bloated head back 
towards her mouth. As her lips closed hungrily over the seeping tip, Maddon 
groaned in ecstasy and ground his hips savagely down on her so that the 
whole rigid length of his throbbing shaft plunged straight into her throat. 

Half suffocated by the stifling weight of his body, Harriet gave a muffled 
groan and squirmed frenziedly beneath him. His shoulders crushed her pelvis 
hard down onto the bunk, her stomach was squashed by his chest, her 
voluptuous breasts were pressed flat by his belly, and her nose was thrust 
up into the soft hairiness of his scrotal sac. Gasping for breath, she eased 
the palms of her hands under his hips and levered him slightly upwards so 
that the rough cloth of his pants was lifted from her face and the iron-hard 
shaft of his penis withdrew a little from her lewdly stretched lips. Even 
then, the thick rubbery cock-head was grinding against the back of her 
throat and her jaws were forced so widely apart that she could scarcely 
breathe. Straining to lift his weight still farther, she began trying to 
curl her tongue around the quivering rod of flesh that was filling her 
mouth. 

At the same time, the Cockney steward raised himself slightly on his elbows 
and moved his hands to the swollen, hair-lined lips of her cunt. His fingers 
hooked into the desire-moistened folds of the hotly throbbing slit, splaying 
them wide apart to reveal the trembling inner flesh of Harriet's pussy and 
the swollen little bud of her clitoris nestling inside. 

The American girl shivered, clasping her mouth more firmly still around the 
rigid mass of Maddon's cock. And then, with an animal-like groan of passion, 
he had buried his face between her legs. 

She jerked and trembled as he flicked out his tongue, licking gently at the 
smooth wet flesh creased within the narrow slit of her vagina. Dropping his 
mouth to the wide-stretched entrance to her cunt, he sucked and nibbled at 
the hotly throbbing bud of her clitoris, pressing his thumbs up into her 
cuntal flesh and pulling his fingers farther apart so that the hair-fringed 
slit gaped wider still. Then he traced a lewd path with his tongue up and 
down the entire length of the hot moist furrow, probing obscenely the secret 
hidden crevice up between her thighs. Harriet gasped aloud around the 
gagging weight of his penis, a slave to the wild sensations whirling 
excitedly through her blood. 

She arched her hips up off the bunk, crushing her softly trembling belly 
into his chest as he sucked furiously at her widespread cunt, spearing his 
tongue far down into the ridged and seeping depths of her vagina. 

At that same time the lusty brunette began a steady rhythmic movement with 
her hands, forcing the steward's hips up and away from her, and then letting 
them down again so that the blood-engorged rod of flesh piercing his open 
fly plunged in and out of her slavering mouth and the mouth itself became a 
second hotly clinging cunt. 

Maddon slid his hands around the outside of her thighs and cupped them under 
the smoothly rounded globes of her buttocks, pulling her seething joins 
tighter into his face. He nipped gently with his teeth into the soft fleshy 
folds surrounding her just-ravaged cunt, reveling in the muffled squeals it 
brought from under his thrashing pelvis. He was suddenly enjoying the power 
he possessed over the voluptuous brunette and redoubled his efforts to 
display his complete domination over her every breath. His tongue slavered 
on and on into the moistness of her loins, increasing little by little in 
speed and depth until he had brought her to the point of absolute 
subjugation to the whims of his madly sucking lips. 

Faster and faster they flailed together on the bed -- the steward's 
pistoning cock fucking wildly into her contorted mouth as the girl's hips 
thrust frenziedly up against his face, skewering her cunt up onto his 
spearing tongue. 

Suddenly Maddon's forehead was glistening with tiny droplets of 
perspiration. He could feel the remorseless pressure mounting deep in his 
sperm-bloated balls. He knew it couldn't be long now. His cock felt like a 
balloon blown up to its tightest stretch . . . and then inflated agonizingly 
still further, ready to explode at any moment and spew its life-giving 
contents to the ends of the universe. He hurled his loins savagely against 
Harriet's face, ignoring her protesting mumble as he strove for the final 
release of this unbearable tension that was mounting . . . mounting . . . 
mounting . . . and then abruptly every fiber of his being quivered and all 
his sensations drained away to his loins as he felt the white-hot current 
surge deep in his swollen testicles and race steam-like the length of his 
madly plunging cock. 

He uttered a strangled cry into the hotly slavering lips of Harriet's pussy 
as his penis began a furious staccato jerking that flooded her avidly 
sucking mouth with squirt after scalding squirt of thick male cum, bloating 
her cheeks with each jack-hammer spurt until she had to swallow to keep from 
choking, gasping and mewling through gagged lips at his insanely thrusting 
loins. 

And then suddenly, sucking frantically as he went on shooting his 
lust-incited sperm far back into her slender throat, the brunette tensed her 
body all over. The muscles of her belly began to quiver and the cords of her 
neck tightened in the unmistakable signs of a coming orgasm. 

Wrenching her semen-filled mouth away from Maddon's now softening cock, she 
bared her teeth and gave a shuddering cry. 

"Aaaaaaaagh! I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum! I'm . . . I'm cuuuuuming! 
Euuuugh!" 

Her head thrashed wildly beneath his passive hips, and her eyes rolled in 
unseeing passion. Her loins arched up off the bed and began to quake 
convulsively as her hands darted to the ship steward's pumping head, forcing 
his mouth still harder down on her flaming cunt. 

Pulling him in maniacal frenzy deeper and deeper into her obscenely splayed 
loins, she felt her orgasmic secretions flow wetly out around his still 
spearing tongue, streaming down the narrow crease of her buttocks and 
stickily flooding his fingers as they clenched in the trembling flesh of her 
writhing ass-cheeks. 

The deep bray of the Arcadia's siren shivered the evening air as Harriet 
continued to groan out her soul-shattering climax, the juices still flowing 
in galvanic spurts down the full quivering cheeks of her buttocks. 

And then, as Maddon slowly withdrew his head and laid it wetly on her thigh, 
the two spent bodies collapsed inertly on the bunk and for a time there was 
no sound in the cabin but the gasping of breath as they strove to recover 
from the shattering effects of their lust. Maddon stared unseeingly at the 
pearls of moisture threaded on the limp hairs fringing the inflamed pink 
flesh of Harriet's pussy. The girl lay with her eyes closed, her face 
upturned between his thighs, her softly mounded breasts rising and falling 
beneath the crushing weight of his hips. A lewd dribble of sperm oozed from 
the side of her mouth, coursed down her cheek, and fell with the tiniest of 
sounds to the coverlet below. 

The silence was broken by the sound of solitary applause. 

Clapping his hands together, Len Bonner sauntered out from behind the 
half-open bathroom door, an unlit cigar clamped between his ginning lips. 

Dragging a chair out from beneath the make-up shelf, he straddled the seat 
and sat down with his arms folded across the back. "That was -- uh -- a most 
satisfying performance," he said amiably. "Maybe when you get your breath 
back we could talk About it a little . . . ." 

 Chapter Two 

Alfred Maddon pushed himself up on to his hands and knees and scrambled 
guiltily from the bunk as he stuffed his now limp wet penis back into his 
open fly and zippered up his pants. His dark hair was tousled and his face 
was flushed. For once the crafty steward was at a loss for words. 

"I . . . I . . . I didn't . . . he stammered. "Mr. Bonner, I'd no idea you 
were . . . that is, I didn't mean . . ." 

"That's all right, Alfred," Len Bonnet said genially. "It was a great show. 
I enjoyed it." He produced the gold lighter and set fire to his cigar. "It's 
just too bad that it happened to be with a passenger's wife, that's all," he 
added. 

Maddon stared at him. "I'm not quite sure that I . . . he began. "I mean, I 
thought you said --" 

Bonnet puffed out a lungfull of smoke and gazed at him levelly through the 
blue cloud. "I mean," he sad quietly, "that I always dig seeing an expert at 
work. I really go for that. But it just so happens that I don't fancy seeing 
my wife screwed silly by a cabin steward." 

"I didn't screw her," Maddon said sullenly. "You know that." 

"Ah, come on. Let's not -- shall we say? -- split hairs," Len said with a 
chuckle at his own joke. "You were laying her, is all. Just where you put 
your prick and what you had your tongue stuffed up is a matter of detail. 
The point is, you forced yourself on a female passenger and made her submit 
to your sexual demands. Depraved sexual demands, I guess the captain would 
say." 

"The . . . Captain?" Maddon repeated tremulously. "You wouldn't . . . ?" 

"You heard. The captain. And sure I would. A man has a right to expect that 
his wife can rest up in her cabin unmolested on a luxury cruise like this, 
for God's sakes! I never heard of such a thing!" 

"But-but-but," the dumbfounded steward shuttered, "but you know bloody well 
it wasn't like that! Christ -- you were right there behind that bleedin' 
door! You saw it all!" 

"All I know," Len Bonner said calmly, "is I come straight into my bathroom 
through the door that leads to the corridor outside and when I walk into the 
cabin, I see my wife struggling on the bed underneath some maniac who has 
his fly open and his cock out." He glanced across at the bunk and added: 
"With her clothes torn to shreds for good measure." 

"But it wasn't like that!" Maddon raved. 

"What d'you mean, forced myself on her? What are you talkin' about? If 
anyone made demands it was her! She begged me! Ask her yourself . . . go on 
ask her!" He swung around accusingly and flung out his hand towards the girl 
on the bunk. 

Harriet was sitting up now, the tattered remnants of her negligee wrapped 
across her swelling breasts, her head modestly bowed. "I'm sorry, Len," she 
said in a small voice. "I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong for 
me. 

"Too strong!" the steward shouted angrily. "She practically swallowed me! 
She asked me to show her my prick and then she . . . Why, you fuckin' 
bitch," he seethed, turning on the girl, "I ought to bash your bleedin' face 
in! You cheap little . . ." 

"All, right, all right," Len cut in. "Let's not add threats and menaces to 
rape, eh? As to what happened, I guess we should let the captain decide." 

"There you go again!" the steward stormed. "The captain! Do you really think 
he'd believe all that stuff?" 

"I don't see why not. There's two of us, for one thing. Paying customers at 
that. And a ripped negligee. And I guess there may have been complaints 
before, judging from what I've seen of you." 

"You want I should scream, Len?" Harriet asked demurely. "We could set this 
whole scene a few minutes forward if you liked. It would kinda give it an 
extra flavor of drama, don't you think?" 

Maddon stared from one to the other of them. He was breathing heavily and 
his fingers were clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I don't get it," 
he said hoarsely. "What's your angle? I don't get the play! What good would 
it do you to fix a frame-up like that?" 

"I don't know what you mean by frame-up, Alfred," Len said. "You want to add 
slander to your other crimes?" 

"You couldn't make that stick either." 

Len rose to his feet. "Let's have the captain decide, eh?" He made as though 
to move towards the door. 

"What do you get out of it?" the steward repeated furiously. "Okay, so you 
can fix it so it looks like I raped your wife. So I get fired maybe. But I 
don't see the point. What's in it for you? What's the percentage playing 
peeping-tom on your wife in the first place? Is that the way you get your 
kicks maybe? Are you kinky or something? Are you some kind of a faggot?" 

Len had paused by the door. He turned and smiled enigmatically. He said 
nothing. 

The steward sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll buy it. There's some kind of 
a catch in it, obviously. You can't have fixed this kind of a setup for 
nothing. As you Yanks say -- what's the pitch?" 

Bonner walked back to the chair and sat down again. "That's better" he said. 
"Now wait'll I tell you. Here's the pitch, as you say. I catch you forcing 
yourself on my wife . . ." He raised a hand as the Englishman was about to 
interrupt, and went on: "By rights I ought to report you to your superior 
officers. But it just so happens you may be able to do a little service for 
me." 

"Ah!" The steward nodded. This was a language he understood. "Here it comes! 
What do you want me to do?" 

"And if you decide to help me out," Len continued smoothly, "I might -- I 
just might -- forget all about this unfortunate little incident tonight. And 
my wife might be persuaded to forget it too." 

Maddon laughed. "I'll say she might! Okay -you fixed it fine and now you got 
me by the short and curlies. Both of you. So what do I do?" 

Bonner swung around and tipped the ash from his cigar carefully into an 
ashtray on the make-up shelf. "sit down, Alfred," he said, gesturing towards 
the bunk. Glancing dubiously at Harriet, the steward lowered himself 
gingerly to the rumpled bed covers and stared expectantly at her husband. 
His world had been turned upside down. Making the girl had been a piece of 
cake. Far easier than he had expected. He had been hoping to put the screws 
on her a little afterwards. The bedridden mother in Liverpool, and the 
urgently needed operation for which his pay was inadequate, would have been 
one routine. Or perhaps the old one about the kid with polio -- Americans 
were suckers for that kind of thing. Maybe he could even have tried on that 
chestnut about wanting to put a talented son through college. Or simply 
asked for money if she didn't want her husband to know that she had -- 
ha-ha! -- transgressed. Whichever he chose, it would have had to be 
delicately played. But he could have done it. 

But now he found the shoe was on the other foot. For once, he himself was on 
the receiving end! Not only had the bastard husband been in on the deal, he 
had proved himself a shrewder operator than Maddon himself. He held all the 
cards and now it was up to the steward to take his medicine. Okay, he would 
take it -- but his turn would come later, he thought viciously, staring at 
Len Bonner through half-closed eyes. 

"I been watching you ever since we stopped off at Tangier on the outward 
journey," Bonner said conversationally. "I'd say you have an interesting 
life here on board, Alfred." 

Maddon said nothing. 

"There's the briberies," Len continued pleasantly, "the little bits of 
smuggling, the kickbacks from night spots and restaurants, the odds and ends 
you pick up from people's cabins when they're having meals . . ." 

"Ere, what are you insinuatin' ?" Maddon protested, but the American raised 
his hand again and went on: . . . to say nothing of all those broads you lay 
and pitch a hard luck story to afterwards. That little redhead down the 
hallway, last night, for instance." 

"You can't prove nothing," the steward said sullenly. 

"I've a tape recording right here in this cabin says I can. You sure took a 
hell of a time serving that kid her tomato juice before dinner!" 

"I don't believe you," Maddon said hoarsely. "You couldn't have a tape of 
that!" 

"Didn't you ever hear of that attachment for recording phone conversations? 
You just stick a mike in a suction cup on the base of the instrument and 
everything on the wire goes down on that tape. It works just as well on a 
door . . . or a cabin porthole, for example." 

The Cockney stared at him, open mouthed. 

"But never mind all that," Len continued . . . "it's something else I want 
to talk about tonight. I noticed you smuggled aboard a certain package when 
we called at Tangier." 

"So what?" Maddon said uneasily. His fingers were nervously pleating and 
unpleating a corner of the blanket. 

"So I believe -- Tangier being what it is -- that this package probably 
contained a quantity of hash." 

"Hash?" 

"Yeah, hash. Grass, pot, hashish, call it what you will. It's still spelled 
m-a-r-i-j-u-a-n-a. And I guess the penalties for pushing it are pretty 
severe wherever you peddle it." 

"I don't know what you mean," Maddon blustered. 

"My guess is that you take on a load of grass at one or two main ports of 
call -- and then sell it off in small quantities to connections at the other 
stopover points, whenever you go ashore. You must have worked up quite a 
nice little business there, Alfred!" 

"So what if I have? Just because I happen to oblige a few friends, do I have 
to . . ." 

"There aren't too many places you can pick it up, though," Bonner 
interrupted.. "Tangier is one. But you must have got shot of most of that in 
Port Said and Haifa. I followed you to a dozen different joints in each of 
those dumps." 

"I suppose you think you're clever," the steward sneered. 

"Clever enough to realize that you're due to pick up another consignment any 
day . . . like when we call at Iskenderun tomorrow." 

"Say, where the hell is Iskenderun anyway?" Harriet put in suddenly. "I 
never heard of the place." 

"It used to be called Alexandretta," her husband explained. "It's a 
one-horse town, but it happens to be at the end of one of the main caravan 
routes bringing hash -- and other drugs -- from Persia and Afghanistan. It's 
in Turkey, not far from Adana." 

"Oh, you!" Harriet said petulantly. "You know everything!" 

"Well, Alfred?" Len demanded. "Do you pick up some more there -- or don't 
you?" 

"What if I do?" the steward asked suspiciously. "You want me to fix you up 
with a few joints, is that it?" 

Len shook his head smiling. "Never touch the stuff. And if I did, I wouldn't 
need to come to you. 

"You want to cut yourself in on the deal? There isn't enough in it for two, 
I swear. By the time I've paid off my contacts and dropped the customs boys, 
there's hardly a cent to spare, honest." 

"I'm not trying to horn in on your business," 

Bonner said. "Like I told you, I just want you to do me a little service, 
that's all." "Well, I'm listening." 

"First off -- are you or aren't you picking up some stuff in Iskenderun?" 

The steward gazed at him warily, "Suppose I am?" he said cautiously. 

"Okay. So you are. Do you know the Grants? young American couple with a 
stateroom just along the corridor?" 

"`Course I do. They're in my section." 

"Right. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Grant will be going ashore tomorrow. All you have 
to do is make up a small package of hash and hide it somehow in Mrs. Grant's 
purse just before she comes back aboard." 

"Hide a package of hash in her bag?" Maddon echoed. "Look, I tell you I 
can't afford to -- For Christ's sake!" Len interrupted angrily. "You'll get 
it back! I don't want your fuckin' grass. I told you already! I just want 
you to fix it so she brings it aboard without knowing it, that's all." 

Maddon's face suddenly cleared. All at once he was on familiar ground. "Oh, 
I get it!" he exclaimed. "It's another frame. You want the stuff planted on 
her so she'll smuggle it aboard unknowingly . . . and then you can walk on 
in and discover it -- and you'll have a hold on her, too!" 

"Now we're getting some place!" Len said. "Can't say I blame you," The 
steward said, with a sidelong glance at Harriet. "She's a smashing bird all 
right!" 

Len got up and patted him on the shoulder. 

"Think you can fix it, Alfred?" 

"Course I can. Piece of cake . . . just you leave it to me, Mr. Bonner." 

"That's my boy," Len said. "You do that, and I might even give you back that 
tape! In the meantime, how's about fixing us a couple of dry martinis? If 
you bring `em back quick enough, seeing Mrs. Bonner is kinda prepared, you 
might be in time to catch the second show and see how it should be done!" 

Maddon jumped to his feet as the two men exchanged meaning glances. "Yes 
sir, Mr. Bonner," he said. "Right away, sir. I'll be with you in just one 
minute . . . Harriet giggled as the steward left the cabin. "Len, you are 
awful!" she said. "Just how long were you behind that bathroom door anyway?" 
Her husband grinned as he stripped off his shirt. "Long enough," he said. 
"Now move over on that bed, honey, and let a real man in. C'rnon now, get 
hustlin'. . . don't forget we got guests coming!" 

The brunette stared at him with her torn negligee half off her shoulders. 
"You don't mean . . . ? You aren't really going to let him watch us, are 
you?" 

"Why not, baby?" Len rasped down his zipper and stepped out of his pants. 
"You heard the dialogue. Alfred and me, we're partners, ain't we?" 

He moved across to the bunk, his long thick penis lengthening and rising 
until it stood up ramrod stiff, with the glistening, bulbous head emerging 
from the sheath of foreskin around the rigid shaft. 

"Mmmmmmm!" Harriet crooned. "I like!" Looking up at the muscled thighs, the 
iron-gray hair curling between the nipples on his chest, the wetly seeping 
cock with its sperm-bloated pouch of testicles beneath, she thought for the 
thousandth time: this is my man! However many others I have and enjoy, when 
it comes right down to it, there's nobody like my Len! Seizing the hot 
throbbing cudgel of flesh with one hand, she spread her legs and parted the 
warm moist lips of her cunt with the other as she drew him down on top of 
her. 

Len groaned in anticipation as he allowed her to plunge the lust-inflated 
rod smoothly up into the clinging warmth of her pussy. Crushing down on to 
her voluptuously swelling breasts, he began driving his cock up into her 
belly with savage thrusts as the steward's knuckles rapped on the outside of 
the door. 

Beneath his plunging body, Harriet turned her head and giggled, "Come on 
in," she called throatily. "The waiter's fine!" 

 Chapter Three 

Joanna Grant opened her eyes and rolled over on to her back. The early 
morning sun was slanting in through a crack in the curtains masking the 
porthole; probing the gloom of the cabin and striking fugitive gleams from 
the sequins decorating the neck of the cocktail dress -- now thrown 
carelessly over the back of a chair -- that she had worn last night. She 
allowed herself to waken gradually, stretching luxuriously between the soft 
sheets as the stateroom assembled itself in the dim half light. One by one 
she became aware of the sounds and sensations around her: the distant pulse 
of the Arcadia's turbines, the lazy rise and fall of the bunk as the ship 
rode the Mediterranean swell, the quiet, even breathing of her young husband 
beside her, a subdued clatter from the far end of the companionway as Alfred 
Maddon prepared the early morning tea and coffee trays. 

Soon the steward would be rapping on their door with black coffee and orange 
juice. He was an odd man, Joanna reflected, attractive in a creepy way too 
-- but there was something about him that made her nervous. It was his eyes, 
she thought. They almost made you feel . . . yes That was it! -- as though 
he were undressing you in his mind! She was always glad to have Bob near her 
when Maddon was around. She was glad to have Bob near her anyway. She loved 
him very much and they had a lot of fun together. Yesterday had been great. 
They had spent the morning in the pool, kidding about with some other young 
folks. It had been nice, too, to win another round of the deck-tennis 
tournament. It made her feel good to see Bob's athletic figure darting about 
the court, and proud that she was his wife. It was too bad that he had 
gotten a little drunk after dinner. 

There had been a ship's concert and they had all gathered afterwards in the 
saloon for a nightcap. It was a merry party . . . they had been drinking 
champagne with their dinner; now, after the performance, a couple of 
brandies raised their spirits still farther. 

Then, just as they were about to go to bed, the Bonners had joined the group 
and insisted on buying another round. Joanna had wanted to leave after that, 
but Bob had mulishly urged her to stay. He wasn't going to be patronized by 
any jumped-up ad man, he said. He'd damned well stay until it was his turn 
again and see the thing out! 

He'd gotten more and more tipsy, falling into a sullen silence after Len 
Bonner had made some quite innocent remark about younger men not favoring 
hard liquor as much as their fathers had. And when they had at last 
staggered to bed they'd had some stupid dispute that almost ended in a 
quarrel -- just because the Bonners had invited them to make up a party and 
go ashore today and Bob hadn't wanted to go. Finally he had started to make 
love . . . and then fallen asleep on her! 

Joanna sighed, turning her blonde head on the pillow. It was too bad Bob 
wasn't a little more . . . flexible. 

It was true, as he said, that the Bonners weren't their kind of people. 
Perhaps they were a bit ostentatious and uncultured. But even if Mrs. Bonner 
was a trifle flashy with her gold lame dress and her plunging necklines, she 
seemed a nice warm person. Certainly she had been most pleasant last night. 

As for her husband, he might be coarse and bumptious as Bob said, but surely 
it was shortsighted -- especially in their position -- to ignore the fact 
that he was a very important man back home in California! He could certainly 
be of great use to Joanna, heading one of the biggest advertising agencies 
on the Coast. And he could put a lot of work Bob's way too, if only Bob 
weren't so stiff-necked about wanting to do it all on his own. Why, for 
God's sakes then, had Bob seemed to go out of his way to offend Mr. Bonner? 
There were two or three occasions, not long before they'd gone to bed, when 
he had been downright rude! 

Joanna sighed again, turning onto her side. Although it was a lot of fun, 
marriage could be real difficult, too, sometimes! 

The finger of sunlight had moved away from the chair. Now it was silvering 
the mirror above the make-up shelf, casting a wavering reflection on the 
cabin wall. But why should it be moving like that? She guessed it must be 
something to do with the motion of the sea. The motion of the ocean! She 
liked that! Smiling to herself, she let her eyes wander from the crescent of 
brightness dancing on the white paneling . . . and then tensed suddenly as 
she found herself staring straight into the open brown eyes of her husband. 
She'd thought he had been still asleep, but he had been watching her 
secretly all the time! It was a good thing he couldn't read her thoughts! 

The flesh beneath the stubble blurring his upper lips and chin creased open 
and his white teeth gleamed in a smile. "Hey, baby!" he said lazily. "I 
guess I must have passed out on you last night. I must have been stinking!" 

"You can say that again!" Joanna said severely. "You were terrible!" 

"Ah, c'mon honey -- don't be mad! I'm sorry, really I am," Bob Grant 
cajoled. He turned to face her and Joanna suddenly drew in her breath as she 
felt the hem of her nightdress ride up to her hips and his fingers came into 
startling contact with her naked flesh. An electrifying shock rippled 
through her loins as she felt him stroke gently up towards the tender flesh 
of her sensitive inner thighs. A moment later he raised himself on one elbow 
and leaned across her to cup the full mound of one breast through the thin 
material of her flimsy nightgown. 

"Bob . . . ?" she murmured questioningly. "Surely you can't be . . ." 

He grinned at her in the dim light of the stateroom. "Can't be what? Can't 
be getting hot pants for you this early in the morning? Just try me!" 

Removing his fingers from her thighs, he reached for one of her hands under 
the bed clothes and guided it over toward his own loins. She felt the hard 
rubbery head of his penis nosing wetly against her palm. As the heated shaft 
grazed rigidly against her, she gasped and said: "But darling we can't . . . 
not now! The steward will be bringing our coffee at any moment . . ." 

"He can wait," Bob said tersely. "We'll tell him to come back later." He 
moved the palm of his hand softly over the ripely shifting mound of her 
breast, teasing the thin material of the nightdress against the nipple so 
that the tender bud of flesh hardened and stood up stiffly erect under his 
exciting caress. At the same time he released his wife's hand and began to 
stroke her thigh again. She uttered a small moan of pleasure as the tip of 
one roving finger found the narrow sensitive slit of her vagina, hesitated, 
and then gently thrust into it. Her hips arched involuntarily up from the 
mattress as the lewdly probing finger parted the soft blonde pubic hair and 
made sudden delicious contact with the quivering button of her clitoris. 

It was already wet and slippery from the unexpected and unbidden desire that 
now coursed through her veins, and she sucked in her breath to hold back the 
groan of helpless ecstasy she felt building deep in her rapidly heaving 
chest. 

Bob shifted the hand he held on her breast slipping the fingers inside the 
low neck of her nightgown to roll and tweak the erected nipple as he 
massaged the whole hair-lined slit of her pussy with the other. 
Tantalizingly, he caressed the throbbing inner flanges of her cunt, circling 
his middle finger around the swelling head of her clitoris as she squirmed 
and writhed beneath him. 

Almost unconsciously, her own fingers clasped themselves around the hardened 
shaft of his cock, roiling the loose sheath of the foreskin slowly up and 
down the desire-engorged rod of flesh. 

"God that feels good!" Bob panted. "Oooooooh, darling! Oh, Joanna!" 

Suddenly he moved again. Raising his head, he took his hand away from her 
breast, reached behind him, and tore the covers off the bed. Then, dragging 
the length of his body up over her until he was staring directly into her 
passion-widened eyes, he eased his hips across her pelvis so that her 
fingers, and the hot rigidity of his penis within them, were jammed in the 
-- narrow crease of her thigh. 

His cock felt enormous this morning, as though her slender fingers could 
only just meet around the ridged, sinewy hardness of the throbbing shaft. 
The bulbous head was now pressed wetly in her clenched hand, seeping its 
warm seminal fluid between her fingers to glide lasciviously across her 
naked belly. Automatically, she smoothed the viscous moisture around the 
glans, into the stretched folds of the foreskin and up and down the long, 
blue-veined member until the whole lust-stiffened length of it was as 
slippery as a well-oiled piston. 

Above her, Bob groaned softly and crushed his mouth down on her open lips, 
plunging the heated wetness of his tongue deep into Joanna's throat. He 
forced his hands down between her shoulders and the mattress and ran them 
over the soft pliant curves of her back and hips, feeling the raised ridges 
of her spine oscillate almost imperceptibly as she undulated her voluptuous 
body up against him in a dazed hypnotic motion. Like the legs of a puppet 
pulled on invisible wires, her thighs spread of their own accord and he sank 
in between them, feeling the tautness of the tendons firm against the 
outside of his hips. He knew how they would feel later, when he had buried 
the excruciating hardness of his cock deep in her quivering white belly. 

He shoved his hands farther down beneath her, cupping the fullness of her 
buttocks in the palms of his hands and pulling her willingly opened loins up 
tighter against him. Slowly, he moved up and down, sliding his lubricated 
shaft in and out of her clutching fingers, feeling it grow wetter and wetter 
with every thrust. Warm trickles of moisture coursed along down the 
sensitive skin of his balls to mingle with the dampness of her now 
impatiently waiting cunt. 

Joanna's buttocks began a more urgent rotating movement, grinding hotly 
against his loins -- and then suddenly her legs, snaking out wide on either 
side of him, locked him to her. Her heels hooked over the backs of his knees 
and her calves pinioned his shuddering thighs, pulling him tighter up 
against her. 

"Ooooooooh, Bob! Do it to me now, darling! 

Put it in now!" she gasped into his open mouth, her eyes tightly shut and 
her pelvis writhing uncontrollably. 

Moaning with desire, her husband began to shift his hips, dragging a hand 
out from under her writhing ass cheeks to reach for his wetly throbbing 
penis. But Joanna was too quick for him, thrusting the slippery shaft across 
her belly and rolling the rigid cock of male flesh toward her aching cuntal 
opening. Their fingers met stickily around the iron-hard member, sending 
wild shivers of excitement surging through each of them as together they 
guided the pulsating cock-head between the lips of her lust-moistened cunt. 
Bob panted heavily as he felt her teasing it up and down between her legs, 
grazing it damply against the drenched hairs of her vagina, forcing the 
blood-engorged cudgel into even greater hardness until it pounded unbearably 
from the agonizing pressure within the veins. 

He couldn't hold back another second. Ramming his hips forward with a sudden 
cruel thrust, he drove the tip of his cock with a flesh-splitting surge into 
the widespread mouth of her pussy. 

"Aaaaaaaaagh!" she whimpered beneath him as he felt the wide elastic-like 
sheath slide wetly over his sensitive naked flesh. "Ooooooh!" 

He lunged farther and she moaned again. "Aaaaaagh!" 

Then Bob levered himself up on his hands over his lovely blonde wife to give 
greater purchasing power to his loins and thrust again. The relentlessly 
invading rod drove inward another inch. 

"Ooooooooh! Ohhhhh, darling!" 

And another excruciating inch . . . "Ah, Bob darling! Aaaaaaalh!" 

And then abruptly it stopped. His swollen cock had bored into her cunt, 
tight and hot at first, aching the full length of his rigidly pulsing shaft, 
then more easily as the wetness of the passage lubricated the way; now the 
huge rubbery head nosed jarringly against the tender hardness of her cervix 
as his sperm-inflated balls slapped wetly into the wide-split crevice of her 
buttocks. 

Joanna gave a low animal cry. She was skewered good and her husband lay for 
a moment with his penis imbedded to the hilt in her moistly clasping vagina, 
waiting for the shock of his entry to subside. Then, far up in her soft 
white belly, he flexed the blood-filled cock-head, and she groaned, her 
teeth clenching behind her drawn back lips. He flexed once more . . . and 
Joanna groaned again, more soothingly this time as her thickly invaded 
vagina grew accustomed to the alien length within it. 

The young commercial artist began a slow revolving motion of his pelvis, 
grinding his massive cock firmly into her naked cuntal flesh, expanding the 
ridged and gasping walls of her vagina until they fitted the pulsating shaft 
like a warm, tight fitting glove. She squirmed from side to side as she 
strained under her husband's weight, arching her loins up, lifting them both 
momentarily off the bunk. Mewling ceaselessly beneath his pounding body, she 
began to open and close her legs around his hips as she thrust upwards to 
meet him on every spearing plunge. 

Her mouth gaped wide, and her blonde hair flailed from side to side on the 
pillow in wild abandon. As he drove his cock rhythmically into the 
lust-heated wetness of her vagina, a stream of warm moisture ran down the 
widespread cuntal crevice to saturate his fingers where they still held her 
hair-fringed pussy-lips wide for his flesh-splitting attack. 

Bob sensed his cock growing and expanding still farther inside her until it 
felt as though it would burst from the exquisite pleasure mounting in his 
balls as they slapped wetly against her buttocks below. It wouldn't be long 
now he hoped. He knew he could do it this time. He had to! He had got to 
hold back until she had cum! 

He began ramming it into her with long hard strokes, striving to excite her 
to completion. Their bodies were steamy with perspiration as they ground 
frenziedly into each other. Her swelling breasts rose and fell voluptuously 
under his pounding chest; their bellies slapped nakedly together in the 
airless cabin; their thighs were gliding one over the other as easily as the 
greased shaft of his penis raging in and out of her seething cuntal passage. 

He could tell she was near her climax as she gripped him with her ankles and 
knees, opening and closing them around him in lewd rhythm with his long hard 
thrusts into her wetly clasping pussy. She gurgled softly beneath him, the 
sounds bubbling up from deep in her throat as though she had no conscious 
control over them. He knew it couldn't be long now and he continued the 
merciless thrusting up between her legs with all his strength. 

"Aaaaaaah! Do it to me, darling! Do it to me hard!" Joanna chanted, spurring 
her young husband on with the pounding of her heels high on his muscular 
back. She had jackknifed her legs up high, pulling her knees back savagely 
towards her shoulders to offer him the widest opening of her upraised loins. 
Her body was white-hot. She clasped him with the backs of her calves, 
winding her tapered legs around his pumping body as her eyes rolled 
uncontrollably in her head. Her ankles were locked tightly together behind 
his shoulder blades now, spiraling her ravenous cunt up the full length of 
his hard plunging shaft. 

Her face was contorted and straining for the final explosion of exquisite 
sensation that was so near . . . so near . . . so near . . . just a fraction 
of a second away. 

And then it happened. 

The accelerated friction of the moist elastic cuntal sheath sucking at his 
throbbing cock was too much for Bob! An irresistible flood of feeling built 
up in the nerve ends deep in his balls and surged relentlessly outwards -- a 
towering wave of passion that hurled him forward on its seething crest and 
then broke thunderously about his ears! 

He was too young and too inexperienced to control it. He gasped, and his 
mouth clamped down desperately on hers as he uttered a long groan that 
swelled to a cry of despair. His penis began jerking uncontrollably and he 
spewed his lust-heated sperm far up into her wildly dilating cuntal passage. 
She could feel it jetting against the tip of her cervix in great gushing 
torrents, deflating his cock with each scalding spurt . . . and she was 
still tenths of a second away from her own orgasm! 

"Bob!" she was panting. "No, darling, no! Not yet! Please not yet, my love! 
Wait for me . . . wait for me!" 

She squeezed the cheeks of her buttocks up hard against his already 
softening penis in a desperate attempt to keep it within her. Her naked 
heels pounded into his spent body as she sobbed her frustration into his 
widely gaping mouth. Her seething belly ground frantically against his 
suddenly slack loins, but it was no use. With a long sigh, he rolled from 
between her frantically gyrating thighs to lie exhausted beside her on the 
bunk, his head turned away from her and his lower lips clamped ashamedly 
between his teeth. 

Joanna was crying with disappointment and rage. To have been unfulfilled the 
night before last . . . to have had her husband fall into a drunken sleep 
just when she had become inflamed with desire last night . . . and now to 
have been aroused when she had been perfectly happy lying here thinking -- 
only to be left high and dry once more! It was intolerable! 

She kicked her legs out wide and dropped her own hands to her unsatisfied 
cunt, manipulating ineffectually the hair-lined slit up between her thighs. 
Greedily, desperately, she thrust two fingers into the cum-drenched cuntal 
passage, attempting to reach the impossible depths of the vanquished penis 
that had just slipped wetly from her cunt to betray her to the demons of 
unfulfillment. 

And it was then that Alfred Maddon knocked on the cabin door and threw it 
open in a single brisk movement. 

Bob Grant only just had time to scramble the sheet over himself and his wife 
before the steward was walking springily across the cabin to lay the 
steaming coffee tray on the table beneath the porthole. "Good morning, good 
morning," Maddon said breezily. "And a very good morning it is too! Sun's 
up, sea's blue. . and we'll be ashore again today, thank goodness!" 

He tweaked the curtains aside to let the sunlight flood the cabin and turned 
to face them. 

His crafty Cockney's eyes took in the scene at a glance -- and interpreted 
it correctly. The hurried movements as he opened the door, the odor of sex 
in the airless room, young Grant's sullen, handsome face turned away from 
the girl, Joanna's big eyes, red with crying, staring flintily at the 
ceiling . . . they all meant one thing to him, and one thing only. The young 
couple had been having a bash before breakfast, and the kid had buggered it 
up! Come off before the skirt was ready, by the look of things, clumsy young 
bastard! Maybe she'd be better off with Len Bonner at that! At least the 
advertising man knew what he was doing, and good luck to him! Come to that, 
the steward thought lustfully, he wouldn't mind having a go at that blonde 
bird himself! Those tits of hers were out of this world! 

If ever he did get the chance to lay his hands on that luscious piece of 
stuff, he'd shove his bloody cock so far up her cunt she'd be able to suck 
him off from the inside! God, he'd like to grab her right now and throw it 
to her as she lay on that bunk, whether her pussyfoot husband was watching 
or not! There'd be something in it for the boy too, come to think of it, he 
reflected: that little scene they'd worked up in the Bonnets' cabin after 
he'd been tricked was very interesting! Very interesting indeed! 

He poured two cups of coffee and carried them over to the bed. "We drop 
anchor at ten," he said, "and the tenders will be alongside from ten thirty. 
So you'd better look slippy if you want to get up and get a good breakfast 
inside you before you go ashore." 

"Thank you, steward," Bob Grant said distantly. His wife was still staring 
expressionlessly at the ceiling. With an inward smile, Maddon bowed slightly 
and left the cabin. 

For some time after he had left, neither of them spoke or moved. And then 
Joanna said tonelessly, "We'd better get a move on as he says. Do you want 
to use the tub first, Bob or shall I?" 

"Don't forget your coffee, darling," Bob said. 

"I guess I don't want any coffee this morning, thank you." 

"No coffee? But you always say you don't feel half way human until you've 
had your coffee, honey. What gives?" 

"Maybe I am only half human . . . this morning," Joanna said coldly." 

"Then drink your coffee for God's sakes! What's the matter?" 

"Matter?" Joanna repeated, as though it was the first time she had heard the 
word. "What do you mean, what's the matter?" 

`Swell I mean . . . like something's up, isn't it? 

Don't you feel good or something?" 

"I feel fine," Joanna said. "There's nothing the matter with me . . . I feel 
fine." 

"Then why . . . ?" Bob scratched his head in bewilderment. "I don't get it. 
You act as though you were mad or something. Look . . . if it's about last 
night . . ." 

"It's not about last night." "Then what is it about, baby?" 

"It isn't about anything. There's no `it' for there to be anything about." 

"Aw, honey. Quit talking in riddles will you?" Bob gulped down his coffee, 
grimaced wryly, and turned towards his wife. "Did I say something? Did I do 
something?" 

"You didn't do anything," Joanna said pointedly. "And sometimes you say too 
much." "Hell! All I did, I asked you what was the matter and . . . ." 

"And I said nothing. End of conversation. Period." 

"But you just said . . ." 

"Oh God, do you have to go on and on and on?" Joanna interrupted irritably. 
"Sometimes you're just a little boy! As Alfred said, it's time we got 
moving, Robert. Go take a shower or we shall be late." 

"Late for what?" her husband asked sharply. The nucleus of an idea was 
taking shape in his mind. It was something Joanna had said a moment ago . . 
. something about his not doing anything. He was sure he must be wrong, but 
if he was right and she'd meant that . . . The thought sent a flush of 
humiliation sweeping across his face. 

The blonde on the bunk sighed patiently. 

"You can't have been that drunk," she said. "Have you forgotten we promised 
to make up a party with the Bonners to go ashore . . . at . . . wherever it 
is." 

"We did not!" Did she think he'd failed her somehow? The unwelcome idea was 
becoming clearer in his mind. If he was right, maybe that was why she was so 
irritable! He'd heard men say often enough that women were pretty damned 
screwball that way! But the thought was so unwelcome that he refused to 
accept it. If it was true but it couldn't be true! . . . then it meant that, 
at least in part, he would be to blame. And since his subconscious mind 
couldn't permit him to be at fault he transferred the blame elsewhere. 

"We did too," Joanna was saying. "You know perfectly well they asked us and 
we accepted . . . not with a very good grace on your part, I must say." 

"They're dreadful people," Bob said. "Flashy and coarse and vulgar." 

"Ten thirty at the gangway," his wife said. "On the first tender away." 

"We don't want to get mixed up with that class of person. He's a boor -- a 
crude, uncultured, semiliterate boor. As for the woman, she's not much 
better than a cheap hustler." 

"Robert Grant! How can you sit there and say such things! I thought Harriet 
was a very nice person," Joanna said warmly. 

"Oh, so it's Harriet now, is it? Getting very intimate all of a sudden, 
aren't we?" the young man sneered. "Well, I don't want you to associate with 
them. I told you before, the kind of people you meet in that job of yours 
are going to do us no good at all." 

"I happened to meet these particular people on board this ship -- on a 
cruise paid for by your father." 

"Oh, don't drag the old man into it again! Please! Just because I'm lucky 
enough to have a generous family, you have to keep on beefing about it, on 
and on and on! I should have thought you'd have been glad enough to take 
advantage of their generosity. I don't see any cruise tickets in the mail 
from your family!" 

"That's a mean thing to say!" the girl cried angrily. "You know perfectly 
well that all my folks are out in Iowa, and they're in no position to . . ." 

"So you make do with your . . . friends . . . in the ad man's world. Well 
they're not good enough, that's all. The sooner you give up that modeling 
crap the better. Making an exhibition of yourself for every dirty old man on 
the Coast to see!" 

"I don't notice any complaints from you when I deposit the money I earn in 
our account!" Joanna flashed. 

He was breathing heavily, his face flushed -- with anger now. "I see. Now my 
job's not good enough for Madam! It's the men with the money she likes. Men 
like the charming Mr. Bonner, I suppose?" 

"He's a big man in my business back home. And in yours too, if only you were 
intelligent enough to see it." 

"So we have to crawl up his ass on our vacation, in the hope that we can 
pick up some crumbs from the rich man's table? No thank you! I'd sooner get 
the work on my own account and stay poor." 

"Well your wish has been granted so far, hasn't it?" the girl said 
sarcastically. "Without the money I earn, we'd still be living in a rented 
room on the wrong side of town!" 

"But I want you to give it up. I just told you." 

"That's exactly what I mean, Robert. You don't give a damn what I feel or 
what I want. Just so long as your ego isn't tarnished, that's all you care! 
All right, let's go back to that rented room -- then at least you can say: 
`I did it all myself." 

They stared at each other, scarlet with rage. Finally Bob said stubbornly: 
"Okay. So I'm wrong again. I guess I always am. I'll listened to you, I'd 
sure begin to believe it! But that doesn't alter the fact: we're not going 
ashore with the Bonnets today . . . or any other day. And that's final." 

"You're so hipped up on manners and politeness," Joanna said frostily. "How 
d'you think these uncultured boors, as you call them, will take it if we 
back out on a date we made only last night? Is that cultured? Is that 
polite?" 

"I don't give a shit what they think. We're not going, is all." 

"What a nice way to talk to your wife! These college boys are so cultured, 
don't you think?" 

"Fuck the college boys. Fuck the culture. And fuck you too, for that 
matter," Bob shouted rudely. "I say we're not going, and that's that!" 

"But we agreed to go." 

"You may have done. I didn't." 

"Well okay . . . if I agreed to go, then I'm going on out and going." 

"I'm not," the young man snapped -- and he lay down on the bunk and pulled 
the covers up to his chin. 

Joanna glared at him and then leaped from the bed and headed for the 
bathroom door. "Robert Grant," she said accusingly, "do you mean to tell me 
that you'd let me go ashore in a strange city with strange people . . . and 
stay right here on the boat and do nothing about it?" 

"Oh, shut. up, Jo, for Pete's sake!" her husband groaned. 

She was furious now, her nostrils pinched and white, the corners of her 
mouth turned down. "You're just selfish," she cried. "That's what's the 
matter with you . . . you're plain selfish. You're selfish in bed and 
selfish out of it, and that's the truth! . . . Well all right, I will go 
ashore with Mr. and Mrs. Bonner. You can stay here and sulk if you want; I 
intend to go into that town and have a whale of a time, so there!" 

As she whisked into the bathroom and slammed the door, he turned his face to 
the wall and closed his eyes. 

An hour later, after they had dressed in silence and he had walked up on 
deck alone, he stood watching the gangway from behind a ventilator as the 
tender nosed alongside and the Purser prepared to shepherd the passengers 
ashore. Across the harbor, a range of hills blue with distance serrated the 
skyline behind the jumbled roofs and narrow shuttered facades of the 
waterfront. The shore party crowding into the long slim launch were 
chattering excitedly. For a moment Bob caught sight of Joanna, wearing a 
white linen suit and a bright forced smile, talking to Len Bonner, florid 
and perspiring in a yellow shantung jacket. Then they were lost to sight 
under the awning sheltering the fore-deck from the beating sun. 

The tender's rudders thrashed and she circled away from the Arcadia and 
headed across the sparkling sea for a jetty in the center of the port. 

"So exhausting, don't you think?" a voice murmured beside him. "It's the 
only time you can really take advantage of the amenities aboard -- when 
everyone else has gone ashore!" 

He swung around. Harriet Bonner, provocatively attired in very short yellow 
shorts and a revealing halter top, was standing with a seductive smile at 
his side. 

 Chapter Four 

Damn it, Bob Grant thought furiously . . . first he had a bust-up with his 
wife and now he found one of the two people the quarrel had been about was 
still on the ship and not, as he had thought, ashore with Joanna and her own 
husband! 

That meant that Joanna would spend the whole day in the company of Len 
Bonner! She would be surrounded by his oily, overdone charm wherever she 
went in the strange city across the water; his crude insinuations would 
follow her through the markets and bazaars; every time she crossed a street, 
his thick-fingered yokel's hands would be pawing her, touching her up 
between her elbow and breast as he pretended to guide her through the 
traffic! Well it served her damned well right, Bob thought irritably, anger 
submerging the sudden flare of jealousy he had felt. Maybe a whole day in 
that coarse and vulgar bastard's company would be good for her! It would 
show her just what kind of people she was getting in with; she would see for 
herself the sort of crowd she seemed so keen for them to join! 

In the meantime he was faced with the unwelcome presence of Bonner's flashy 
and underdressed wife. Why in hell had the woman not gone ashore as planned? 
Didn't she think the Turks would appreciate her lewdly displayed charms? In 
any event, he must make some excuse and get rid of her as soon as possible. 
He rather fancied a book and a deck chair in the sun on the promenade deck 
-- on the side away from the waterfront. Maybe he could get a hit of peace 
that way! 

"Why - uh Mrs. Bonner!" he said with false heartiness." I sure didn't expect 
to see you here! What happened? I thought you were going ashore with your 
husband and . . . and my wife." 

Harriet smiled winningly. "And I thought you were," she said. "What happened 
to you?" 

"I `er . . . well I guess I didn't feel too good this morning. And what with 
the hot sun and the rich food . . . well, I guess I figured I'd be better 
off staying aboard. So I -- um -- I persuaded Joanna to go right on without 
me, Bob said weakly. 

"But that's my story exactly!" the brunette exclaimed gaily. "My tummy was 
so upset when I woke, I couldn't leave the cabin until ten. I said to Len, I 
said, honey, if I come with you I'll not dare move a single foot beyond the 
pierhead toilets! You go on, I said, and tell me all about it later! I'll 
stay aboard and rest up a little. Is that what happened to you, too, Bob? 
Did you get an attack of the trots, too?" 

"Well not exactly that is to say I . . . well, yes in a way," young Grant 
lied valiantly, flustered by this intimate account of Mrs. Bonner's 
alimentary details. He wasn't used to-women -- especially women he hardly 
knew -vouchsafing such private information in public. 

"It must have been something we ate last night," Harriet said. "I told Len 
at the time: I suspect that crab salad, I said. I swear that crab meat's 
canned and not even deep-frozen! But he wouldn't listen. He went right ahead 
and ate the salad, and I had the fish soup. So what happens? He's okay today 
and I'm sick! Isn't that just like the world!" 

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bonner. In fact I thought I'd rest up myself today and 
take it easy, too. So maybe if you'll excuse me . . ." 

"Oh but my dear boy that's exactly what you shouldn't do!" Harriet cried, 
forgetting that she had herself said she was going to do this a moment 
before. "It's the worst thing possible! All that happens if you do that, you 
mope around all day and think how sick you feel . . . and you end up feeling 
worse than ever. Keep out of the sun, yes. Leave off the pilafs and the 
kebabs and those cute pastries with honey and nuts and all. Stay away from 
that delicious halva! But otherwise you should forget it. Keep active and 
live an ordinary life, that's the only way, believe me!" 

"Yes, but . . ." 

"In any case, we shouldn't be standing out here in this hot sun, a couple of 
invalids like us!" Harriet said with mock severity. "I tell you what . . . 
why don't we go on down in the saloon, where it's nice and cool, and have us 
a glass of something to fix us up right now? Come on: it's my invitation -- 
besides, I'm much older than you and I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind." 

"I'm sure she wouldn't," Bob began dubiously, "but I don't think . . ." 

"Come on! It'll do you a world of good, I promise you. Toni, the barman, has 
a special recipe that works wonders with an upset tummy!" She put a soft 
hand through his arm and walked him unresistingly towards the companionway. 

"Isn't it rather early?" Bob protested. "I mean . . . well, it's not eleven 
yet." 

"Not a bit of it! Mediterranean tummy's just like a king-size hangover: the 
sooner you catch `em the better! Believe me, I know!" 

Five minutes later, with a rather bad grace, Bob found himself sitting next 
to her on a leather-covered seat in a shadowy corner of the bar on "A" Deck, 
gazing at two glasses of dark-amber liquid which the barman had just placed 
on the table in front of them. At the far end of the big, oak-beamed saloon 
a trio of piano, drums and electric guitar played quietly in an alcove. 
Through the open windows, beyond the handful of drinkers seated on high 
stools behind the brass rails of the bar, the pale towers of modern 
apartment buildings gleamed in the blinding sunlight beside the swollen 
white domes of mosques. There was a forest of masts and rigging festooning 
the waterfront, and between the harbor and the ship the graceful terra cotta 
sail of a felucca scythed across the brilliant blue water. 

"That's better!" Harriet said, raising her glass. "Get that down inside of 
you and you'll feel a new man. Good health!" 

Feeling a complete fraud, Bob did the same and then took a suspicious sip of 
his drink. It was unexpectedly warm and mellow, with a delicious fruity 
under-flavor, leaving a dark velvety glow in his throat after he had 
swallowed it. "Mmmmmmm! That's good!" he said. "I expected one of those 
damned bitter concoctions. What is this?" 

The brunette laughed. "Simple," she said. "It's just port and brandy in 
equal proportions, with a tiny dash of Angostura. It's the best thing in the 
world for settling the stomach." 

"Port and brandy!" Bob echoed. "But isn't that rather . . . well, rather 
alcoholic? I mean it's mixing drinks, too, isn't it? I thought . . ." 

"The only things you mustn't mix are the grain and the grape," Harriet said. 
"Like whiskey and sherry, or gin and wine. But both of these are made from 
grapes. Anyway, the important thing is -- it works!" 

He took another gulp, a larger one this time. It sure was good! It went down 
just like warm silk. If he'd really been sick, he was sure it would have 
made him feel better! 

Mrs. Bonner was tipping her glass to her lips. She took a deep swallow of 
the smooth dark liquid, her eyes sparkling at him over the rim of the glass. 
He became uncomfortably aware of her proximity . . . and of how little 
clothing there was covering her ripely voluptuous body. She was sitting with 
her legs crossed. They weren't as long as Joanna's legs, but they were firm 
and tanned and shapely, and the ankles above the high-heeled white sandals 
were graceful and slender. He tried not to look at the swell of her hips as 
they bulged out the tightly-stretched material of her yellow hot pants. 
There were fan-shaped creases splayed out from the point where they plunged 
down between her shapely thighs, and the crotch was so tight that the seam 
had sunk slightly into her vaginal slit and outlined the round fleshy lips 
of her pussy. 

Bob swallowed the rest of his drink hastily and set the glass back on the 
table. Beyond the miniature brass rail circling its edge, he could see a 
tiny trail of dark hairs shadowing the tautly muscled plane of Mrs. Bonner's 
stomach on its way up to her navel. Above her bronzed midriff, the 
plunge-neck halter top jutted away from her chest in two ripely swelling 
mounds between which a deep, soft cleft was visible. 

She was a pretty good-looking woman really, he supposed. She certainly had a 
well-stacked figure in there! He looked away and out the window towards the 
glittering minarets of the city. Somewhere in the narrow streets below those 
sugar-cake towers Joanna was laughing and chattering with this woman's 
oafish husband, while he was stuck here drinking with a superannuated 
sex-symbol on this Goddamn ship! Well maybe he was being a little unfair: 
Mrs. Bonner wasn't so old really. In fact she couldn't be more than two or 
three years older than he was, when you came down to it. It was just that, 
somehow, she seemed older. 

Damn Joanna anyway, he thought with a flash of anger. If she hadn't gone and 
made some damnfool arrangement with these people, they would never have 
quarreled. They would have gone ashore together as they planned, and he 
wouldn't be here trying to find some excuse to get away from the 
overpowering Mrs. Bonner. If Joanna hadn't behaved like such a bitch this 
morning, the whole thing need never have happened. 

"Another drink for your thoughts!" Mrs. Bonner had finished her own drink 
and she was smiling at him over the table. Her sensuous lower lip gleamed 
wetly beneath a sparkle of white teeth. 

Bob stumbled to his feet, knocking his glass over on the table. "N-n-no, 
please. Let me," he stammered. "I insist." 

Harriet sat watching his angular, muscled figure stride to the bar with the 
same faint confident smile on her lips. He really was a good-looking boy! 
She had been through this time and time again and it never ceased to excite 
her. She was looking forward to the next moves in the game and she was going 
to enjoy seeing this stiffnecked greenhorn squirm when she turned on the 
heat! If only she could get him to her cabin, she'd really put him through 
his paces; she'd make it a fuck like nothing he'd ever had before, she told 
herself. It wasn't often that she got the chance to lay her hands on someone 
this young and this naive; it was a long time since she'd had the 
opportunity to break in a kid this innocent! Why, she guessed those two 
didn't even know how to begin once they got into the sack! It would be like 
that old salesman's gag about the three greyhounds that Len used to tell -- 
Whippet-in, Whippet-out and Wipe-it! Her smile broadened at the memory. 

Bob Grant was back at the table with two glasses. "I got the same again, 
Mrs. Bonner," he said. "I guess that's the safest thing to do, eh?" 

"That's fine, Bob. Just fine." Harriet said. "But look -- we're all together 
on this boat for another couple of weeks. Why don't we put an end to these 
formalities? I'd sure like for you to call me Harriet. Okay?" 

"Uh -- why sure, Harriet. That's just great. I'd be glad to," the young man 
said awkwardly. Flushing slightly, he picked up his glass and swallowed half 
the contents in a single gulp. Perhaps Joanna had been right after all. Mrs. 
Bonner . . . Harriet . . . did seem to be quite a nice person, warm and 
friendly and uncomplicated as his wife had said. Not at all flashy really, 
when you came to think of it. Hell, with a body like that, you could hardly 
blame her for dressing to show it off! He drained his glass and put it 
carefully back on the table. It certainly was a good mixture: his whole body 
was permeated with a mellow glow and the self-consciousness he had felt 
before seemed magically to have vanished! 

Harriet lifted her glass to her lips and smiled inwardly. She was going to 
enjoy playing mama to this kid. In just a little while now. A tinge of 
anticipation rippled between her thighs as she pictured him naked before 
her. "Why don't you ask me to dance, Bob?" she asked softly. 

`They're playing one of the good old ones and it gives me kind of an itch in 
the feet!" 

He glanced across the saloon. A few of the passengers who had not gone 
ashore were swaying in front of the trio. They were playing Smoke Gets in 
Your Eyes. 

"Why sure," the boy said hastily, rising to his feet. "I'd be happy to, if 
you'd care to. Excuse me, Harriet." 

He led her out to the tiny dance floor with one hand proprietarily under her 
elbow. She took him a little by surprise, the way she curled herself warmly 
in his arms, making certain he could feel the taut, full tips of her breasts 
pushing ripely into his chest. This girl was really built! He must be very 
careful, he told himself: it would never do if he found himself getting hot 
pants for the voluptuous Mrs. Bonner -especially just after he had quarreled 
with his wife! He tried to pull back a little and she smiled up into his 
face. 

"Don't be afraid of me," she murmured. "I won't bite!" Her hand, which had 
been resting on his shoulder, curled round his collar and cradled the back 
of his neck. 

His face flushed again as the touch of her cool fingers sent a tremor of 
excitement quivering down his spine. He felt her push forward harder, 
spreading her legs slightly as she danced so that the swollen mound of her 
pussy ground softly against the top of his thigh. Her own thigh was pressing 
tightly between his legs as they moved slowly in time to the music. He 
caught his breath as she made contact with the soft bulge of his penis and, 
breathing into his ear, began to gyrate her legs slowly and methodically 
against it. 

"I think I like dancing with you," she whispered as she felt the first 
slight stirrings of his cock beneath his tightly stretched pants. 

Bob was aghast. Joanna was ashore with this woman's husband, and here he was 
in full view of the other passengers, getting a hard-on as Harriet Bonner 
draped herself more and more closely around him on the dance floor. The more 
she continued the maddening oscillations of her thigh against his loins, the 
more his cock jerked and quivered and the harder it got! And the worst thing 
of all was that he was enjoying it! He was having a ball! 

His head was beginning to swim from the effects of the two large drinks he 
had downed so rashly. But he knew he had to get off that dance floor somehow 
or other. Fast! Already he could feel a cold wetness at the top of his thigh 
as the seminal fluid from the damply seeping head of his cock moistened the 
thin material of his pants. God -- and he was wearing those light tan pants 
that showed every mark! People would notice! 

"I wonder what it's like over there . . . I mean what kind of town it is," 
he babbled desperately, swinging her round so that they were looking out the 
window at the shimmering sea and the pool beyond. 

Harriet had been watching the changing expressions on his face with inward 
amusement. It was time to put Phase Two of the operation into action. "I can 
show you pictures," she said with a smile. "Len's got a set of color photos 
-almost as good as going ashore! Come on, let's go back to the table and 
I'll go get them from our cabin." 

Thankfully, he piloted her off the floor and sat down. There was a wet patch 
on his pants, a dark circle of moisture staining the pale material over the 
long lewd bulge of his penis. Drawing his chair up as near the table as he 
could, he thrust his knees out of sight. 

"I'll be with you in one minute," Harriet said. 

"Excuse me, please." She picked up her glass and drained it and then walked 
away. Bob watched her go with his senses reeling. The drink was really 
getting to him now. Hell, though -that baby sure knew how to walk! With the 
tight little moons of that ass rolling and those tits bouncing under that 
skimpy halter top, she looks as sexy as all get-out. And she knows it! 
Reluctantly, he tore his mind away from Len Bonner's wife and stared 
blearily out the window on the other side of the saloon. There were gulls 
circling the ship. Otherwise only the white triangle of a sailboat tacking 
towards the harbor broke the blue monotony of the sea. 

Before she left the saloon, Harriet returned to the table with two more 
drinks. Bob half rose to his feet, remembered the patch on his pants, and 
slumped down again with an embarrassed laugh. "Gee," he stammered. "Mrs. 
Bonner Harriet . . . No, really, I guess I've had enough. I don't think . . 
." 

"Nonsense!" the curvaceous brunette chided. "Drink it up. It'll do you good! 
Make a new man of you. Why, you're looking better already!" 

Smiling conspiratorially, she spring-heeled away. Now completely befuddled, 
Bob Grant stared at the rich brown fluid in the glass. After a moment, 
twirling the stem between his finger and thumb, he raised the glass to his 
lips and began absent-mindedly to sip the contents. 

Harriet Bonner was back at the table in two minutes. There was a puzzled 
frown creasing her brow beneath the frame of dark hair. "I can't seem to 
open the door of our cabin," she said worriedly. "I guess it probably 
jammed, but they say it's the favorite time for sneak thieves, when they 
think everyone's ashore. On the other hand, I don't want to raise hell if 
the damned thing is simply stuck. I wonder would you mind taking a look at 
it? A man's so much better at this kind of thing, I always say." 

"Why of course . . . I'd be glad to." Bob gulped down the rest of his drink 
and rose to his feet. 

When they got to the door of the stateroom, Harriet handed him the key and 
stood aside. After a couple of bungled attempts, he fitted it in the lock 
and turned it. 

The key revolved easily, the tongue of the lock slid smoothly back, and the 
door swung open. 

"Why silly me!" Harriet giggled. "It was okay all the time! Fancy making a 
stupid mistake like that . . ." 

Standing just inside the cabin, Bob felt suddenly tongue-tied and 
overpowered by the intimacy of the situation. The ship was silent all around 
them. Between the opened drapes, a shaft of midday sunshine slanted into the 
stateroom to spotlight two pairs of lace-edged panties lying on top of one 
of Len Bonner's jackets over the back of a chair. A lacy pink brassier 
hanging from a hook on the wall was just visible through the half-opened 
bathroom door. 

He swallowed. "Well, if there's nothing else I can do," he began, "I guess 
I'd better be getting along . . . If there's nothing missing, that is. Is 
there anything missing? Did you check?" 

"There's nothing missing," Harriet said without looking around. She was 
staring at the wet patch on his pants in a meaningful way that made him 
blush to the roots of his hair. `There never was anything missing . . . 
except you." 

"M-m-me?" Bob was thunderstruck and his voice rose almost to a squeak. 

"Yes, you," Harriet said calmly, shutting the door and leaning her back 
against it. "It was the only way I could think of to get you in here. I've 
had my eye on you ever since the trip started. You know you're a very 
handsome and desirable young man." 

He stared at her with his mouth open. Finally he said into the stunned 
silence. "B-b-b-but I'm a married man. And you're married too!" 

"That always makes it just that little bit more exciting, don't you think?" 

Through the swirling fog of alcohol that was clouding his brain, Bob gazed 
at her in stupefaction. He was so dumbfounded by her sudden brazen 
revelation that he was totally at a loss for words. "You do find me 
attractive don't you?" Harriet whispered . . . and suddenly she reached 
behind her, unsnapped the fasteners of the yellow halter top, and allowed it 
to drop to the floor. Her tautly swelling breasts sprang free, lewdly white 
against the golden tan of her body. The nipples centered on the dark and 
slightly puckered aureoles were stiff and erect. She walked up to him and 
stood with the two of them lightly pressing against his chest. 

"Harriet, you've got to be kidding," he said desperately, at the same time 
sensing with a despairing inevitability that his cock was once more jerking 
into hardness. Christ, he'd got to get out of here! 

"I was never more serious in my life, darling." "But . . . but what about 
your . . . what about Len?" 

"Len goes along with anything I want, lover. And I mean anything." 

"But suppose he . . ." 

"Look, I can handle Len," she interrupted with a seductive smile. All you 
have to do is handle me!" 

"But Harriet we can't . . . we mustn't . . ." 

I mean I don't dare . . ." Bob broke off with a gasp as her hands snaked 
suddenly down to his loins and unzipped his fly with a single practiced 
movement. The next moment, her cool fingers were dragging down the waistband 
of his shorts, groping across his abdomen for his rapidly hardening cock. 

He gave a strangled cry, half fear and half ecstasy, as her hand clenched 
around the rigid shaft and pulled it free of the encumbering garments into 
the open air. 

"My!" she said, eyeing the gently pulsating organ. "You're quite a man 
aren't you?" 

The third drink was hitting Bob now. With three double shots inside of him, 
and no breakfast, he was possessed of a sudden recklessness, a courage and 
-- a confidence he would never have believed himself capable of. His doubts 
and his fears had slipped magically away; he felt all at once, through the 
alcoholic haze surrounding him, in total command of the situation. 

"I'm sure glad there's somebody who thinks so," he said. 

"How could anyone think otherwise?" She was still staring hungrily at his 
massively upstanding rod, massaging the foreskin up and down its rigid 
length with her finger and thumb. "Why, isn't it right with you and your 
wife in bed?" 

"I guess it's because she's inexperienced," he blurted out. "She thinks it's 
me that's no good because I always seem to shoot off before she's ready. But 
if only she'd . . . I mean I think it's because it's all too quick and 
sudden. If we could build up slowly; if only she'd play around a little, or 
let me . . . but all she seems to want is to stuff it straight in and off we 
go! It's almost as though she wanted to get it over with -- and then she 
gets mad because she hasn't cum!" 

He stared at her miserably, unconsciously undulating his hips back and forth 
in time with the excitingly erotic movements of her expert hand. It was 
great to be able to talk to someone at last. He had to admit, he'd been all 
wrong about Harriet Bonner. She was a regular person all right; the sort of 
woman a man could confide in. And, God, she was exciting! 

"I'll teach you a few tricks you can take back to her," Harriet promised 
softly. "Come on . . . let's get naked!" 

The suddenness of the approach took his breath away. Of course he'd known 
ever since he got into her cabin that something was going to happen, but it 
had been an idea right at the back of his mind . . . he'd pushed it out of 
sight. Now here it was right out in the open, in technicolor and in close-up 
. . . he, Bob Grant, was going to lie with his naked body next to the naked 
body of the bare breasted woman who was fondling his penis! Now! 

Seeing him hesitate, Harriet let go of his cock and pressed the whole softly 
lascivious length of herself against him, twining both her arms round his 
neck as she leaned her head forward and nibbled at the lobe of his ear. "You 
do want to fuck me, don't you?" she breathed warmly. 

"Yes, I do. Christ, yes, I want to!" he muttered hoarsely. His naked cock, 
rammed hard against the rough material of her yellow hot pants, felt as 
though it would burst at any moment. There were tremors of unbearable 
excitement rippling up and down his spine beneath his shirt. 

"Then tell me so!" she murmured, rotating her soft belly invitingly against 
his pelvis. 

"I want to fuck you," he groaned. The obscene phrase coming from her mouth 
had sent a shiver of joy coursing through his veins. Now that he was 
repeating it the excitement was intensified even further. 

"How?" she demanded. "How?" 

"Hard! I want to fuck you to death!" 

"Oh God," Harriet moaned, pushing him away from her squirming body. "Get 
those clothes off you before I die! I want to feel that thing inside of me!" 

Despairingly, he thrust all thought of Joanna from his mind and began 
stripping his jacket and shirt from his body. It was too late to think of 
his wife now, too late to back out . . . and by Christ he was going to throw 
it to her, the sexy bitch! 

Half turning away from him, Harriet unclasped the narrow waistband of her 
hot pants and slid them seductively down over her smooth flaring hips. As 
the full-rounded cheeks of her buttocks came into view the young husband 
marveled at the unselfconsciously erotic significance with which she 
invested every tantalizing movement. The woman dripped sex and nothing else! 

She was bending over now, stepping out of the brief hot pants . . . and 
presenting him with a completely unimpeded rear view of the narrow nylon 
strip of her panties between her firm full thighs. As the flesh tightened, 
the pale blue material slipped teasingly into the crevice of her buttocks . 
. . and then remained bunched up in the soft, hidden furrow up between her 
legs when she straightened up and dropped the pants on the chair. Turning 
and looking him full in the eye, she lowered herself gently to the bunk, 
spread her legs slightly, and said: "Take off my panties for me, will you?" 

Bob had felt a slight tinge of embarrassment as he lowered his own pants and 
shorts to stand with his swollen cock pointing lustfully at the ceiling. But 
now he dropped to his knees and reached for the flimsy nylon waistband of 
her panties with excitedly trembling fingers. 

She lifted her legs and rested her feet on his shoulder as his knuckles came 
into lust-inciting contact with the warm satin smoothness of her belly. He 
could feel the cold pressure of the leather as her high-heeled white sandals 
dug into his flesh. The pressure increased as she flexed her slender ankles 
to lever her hips off the bed so that he could pull the panties down to her 
thighs. 

Slowly he drew the frail blue nylon down the voluptuously tapering length of 
her legs. As the inverted triangle of darkly curling pubic hair slid into 
view he exclaimed aloud: "God, but you're beautiful!" 

Harriet leaned back on her elbows and smiled a lazy seductive smile, 
writhing her loins slightly to expose the thin hair-lined slit of her pussy 
up between her parted legs. He could see that she to was aroused. The first 
tiny dewdrops of moisture were faintly visible, glistening wetly in the 
tight narrow cuntal slit, and the thin crotch band of the panties was damp. 

It was all he could do to keep from leaning forward and locking his lips to 
the obscenely exposed softness of her flesh at that very moment. But he held 
himself back. He sensed that she needed more titillation. She knew what 
making love was all about; she wasn't the kind of woman you simply rammed it 
into without preparing her well for it first. The reward would be well worth 
the torture of waiting! 

Abruptly she lifted her feet from his shoulders and, reaching forward, 
whisked the panties over her sandals and dropped them beside the bunk. He 
hoped that she would keep the sandals on just the same. Their high-heeled 
elegance, and the way the white straps crisscrossed her slender ankles, 
stimulated him visually. He'd like to take her like that, he thought . . . 
naked in high heels. He'd never had a woman like that, though he had 
sometimes tried playfully to pull Joanna down on the bed while she was half 
dressed. But she had always, in a kind of puritanical way, pushed him off 
and continued her preparations for bed in the bathroom. Come to think of it, 
he hardly ever did see her undressing or only partly dressed. She seemed to 
have a thing about it that he could not understand. He'd tried in his 
inarticulate way to explain that a man needed a little preparation just as 
much as a woman did: it was too much to expect him just to crawl into bed 
with a woman already between the covers and go at it without some kind of 
prior arousal. They'd even discussed it in an offhanded way once or twice, 
but they never seemed to get any place. 

But God, this Harriet Bonner knew about these things! She knew what a 
woman's body was for and he bet she knew how to use it in the sack too! 
She'd teach him a few tricks, she's said he could hardly wait for class to 
begin! 

The sensuous brunette swung her legs up onto the bed and lay back with her 
head on the pillow. "Why don't you join me, lover?" she cooed. 

With his heart pounding in his chest, Bob Grant rose to his feet, leaned 
over, and pressed his lips tightly down on hers. She reached up, curled her 
arms around his neck, and pulled him down on top of her, and one of his legs 
fell tightly between her open thighs. She was astonishingly supple and soft 
and her body glued itself to his as though it belonged there. She ground her 
thigh rhythmically up into his loins, bringing his cock to even more painful 
hardness and he could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid seeping from 
the glans on the blood-engorged tip smearing against his skin. 

She continued massaging his burgeoning loins with a practiced thoroughness 
until he thought his painfully swollen cock-head would explode. It was 
jerking now as though he would cum at the slightest extra pressure: he could 
feel it building deep in his sperm-bloated testicles below, he thrust his 
tongue far into her mouth as she sucked greedily on it, nibbling with tiny 
sharp nips of her teeth that sent chills running the length of his spine. 
Pulling his head away to escape the agonizing teasing, he laid his cheek 
against her soft dark hair, thinking guiltily for a moment of his wife and 
the shock she would get if she could see him now . . . stretched over the 
lustfully naked body of her escort's wife. Joanna'll blow her stack! In her 
girlish innocence she wouldn't believe it: she didn't know infidelity 
existed. 

"I want you to fuck me," Harriet said hoarsely. "I want to feel that big 
cock. It's going to feel good going inside of me and twisting around deep in 
my cunt. Oh God, I want you to screw me good with it!" 

Panting, Bob moved his hands down under the fleshy smoothness of her 
buttocks and cupped them gently. They were firm and full, but beautifully 
shaped as he had expected. Her body was warm and soft against him as she 
locked her mouth tightly to his and one hand searched down between their 
excitedly pressed bodies for the hardness of his penis. He gasped aloud as 
the coolness of her fingers closed once more around his throbbing rigidity. 
Pressing his head forward, he kissed her moistly back, her full lips 
yielding before the harsher pressure of his teeth with a moist rubbery 
softness that sent flickers of excitement racing over his skin. She crushed 
the full length of her sensitive woman's body up against him and ground her 
pelvis tightly into him before suddenly twisting aside and pulling him over 
on top of her, opening her legs wide to take him up between them. 

His cock was resting hard against her thighs now, pressed into the narrow 
hair-lined slit of her cunt. She arched up momentarily, levering them both 
off the bed with the strength of her back -- and then, reaching under her 
buttocks with both hands, she pulled her vaginal lips slowly apart, giving 
his penis greater contact with the wetly sensitive flesh as it lay the moist 
full length of the pulsating furrow. Then she relaxed, easing her body back 
to the bunk with his rigid member trapped tightly between her thighs. 

But Bob couldn't hold back another second. Drawing back his hips, he 
maneuvered the painfully throbbing head of his penis into the opening of her 
cuntal passage and then plunged forward with a sudden cruel thrust that 
drove it with a flesh-rending surge up into the gaping mouth of her pussy. 

Len Bonner's wife gave a low animalistic moan as she felt the lust-heated 
shaft of his hardness slide relentlessly up into the elastic-like sheath of 
her cunt. His long thick cock raced up her passion-drenched vagina to the 
full depths of her quivering belly as his balls slapped hard against the 
rounded cheeks of her buttocks. 

Harriet gasped and squirmed beneath him, twisting frenziedly to escape the 
sudden unexpected pain. But he thrust harder, screwing his pelvis tighter 
into her loins with long fierce strokes. He was proud that he could hurt her 
in this way because it meant that at last he had gained the upper hand -- he 
could hurt her but she couldn't hurt him back! 

Reveling for a moment in the sexual power he possessed over another man's 
wife, he flexed the bloated head of his cock far up inside her cunt to bring 
another low moan from between Harriet's tightly clenched teeth. 

She was straining back under him now, arching her loins up at him, lifting 
them both off the mattress with the strength of her matching upward thrusts. 
Mewling ceaselessly beneath Bob's hard pounding body, opening and closing 
her legs around his hips, she skewered herself up and down the hotly raging 
length of his impaling cock. 

"Ooooo God! It's so good, so goooood!" she moaned. "Go on, Bob, hurt me 
again! Make me scream! Shove your finger up my ass, damn it . . . make me 
scream!" 

"W-w-what did you say?" For a moment the lewd request astonished the young 
husband so much that it put him off his stroke. 

"Stick your finger in my ass!" the brunette cried. "Put it in now!" 

He reached dazedly under her and between her driving buttocks as he began 
once more to rhythmically plunge his cock into the heated wetness of her 
widespread pussy. He stretched the crevice of her buttocks wide, searching 
with the tip of his middle finger for her tiny puckered anus. Suddenly he 
found it. 

A rivulet of warm moisture was running down the widespread cleft from where 
he could feel his own hard rod of flesh sawing into her. It greased the 
tightly clenched little opening, lubricating it slightly as he probed 
experimentally with his fingertip. He pushed hard, feeling it give a little 
-- and then suddenly the elastically interfolded nether ring gave way and 
his middle finger slid in up to the first knuckle joint. Harriet started, 
almost crawling on her back across the bed to escape the first sudden pain. 

"Aaaaaagh! Oh Christ -- it hurts!" she screamed. He thrust again, sinking 
the finger in to the second knuckle. 

"Aaaaagh! Ooooooh, yes! Yes, hurt me more. Go on, hurt me!" 

And all at once she was screwing her buttocks back on his finger until it 
was sunk up inside her to the palm of his hand. His mind exploding 

with excitement at the thought of the lewdly obscene thing he was doing, he 
rotated it inside, exploring the soft rubbery depths of her rectum. He could 
feel with a wild tingle of erotic sensation the ridged underside of his own 
cock sliding in and out of her through the thin wall of flesh separating her 
two passages. 

As he began skewering her between penis and finger, maintaining the same 
rhythm for both, she threw her legs wide out over the bunk to give him 
greater access to the wanton ravishing of her steaming loins. 

Bob could feel his cock still growing and expanding inside her until it felt 
as though it was going to burst from the exquisite pleasure building in his 
testicles as they slapped heavily into the moistened crevice of her 
ass-cheeks. It wouldn't be long now, he hoped; she had to cum soon! But he 
was still perfectly confident that he could hold it back. He began ramming 
it into her with longer and harder strokes to excite her even more. 

She gurgled and groaned beneath him, the animal sounds bursting out from 
deep within her throat. "Oooooh, fuck it! Fuck it hard! Ram it into me! Fuck 
it haarrrrrdddd!" she chanted, panting out all the obscene words and phrases 
she knew as she jackknifed her legs up tight and pressed her knees back hard 
into her breasts, offering him the full wet opening of her upraised pussy 
while Bob continued to thrust mercilessly into her with all his strength. He 
knew she must be almost there -- her eyes were rolling uncontrollably in her 
head and her face was contorted and straining for the final explosion that 
was so near. 

And then suddenly she drew in her breath sharply and her whole body tensed. 
"I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, she whispered frantically, almost as 
though she was afraid to say the words. And then, with a low-pitched whine, 
"I'm cumming!" 

She pulled back her thighs still tighter until the whole of her stretched 
pink vaginal slit was presented up to him to batter and use as he willed. 
Her ankles locked over his shoulders, her heels drummed frenziedly on his 
sweating back and her cunt squirmed beneath his pounding loins. Her entire 
body shuddered and spasmed in abandoned ecstasy as her mouth hung open and 
her eyes gazed wide and unseeing at the ceiling. At the same time, 
whimpering softly into the still quiet air of the cabin, her nostrils flared 
open and she screwed herself up on his relentlessly driving cock and locked 
herself to him with all the strength of her thighs while her loins continued 
their spasmodic jerking against his naked belly. 

For an interminable moment she held her breath . . . and then expelled it as 
though she had been hit in the stomach by an iron fist. Her body fell back 
limply to the mattress and she lay still except for the uncontrollable 
quivering of her pussy still clamped tightly around his tortured cock. He 
thrust deep into her and then lay quiet, allowing her to rest. 

It was all he could do to keep from screwing on into her. God, he had never 
in his life seen anything like it! He had never felt anything like it 
either! He flexed the muscles at the head of his lust-maddened penis far up 
in her quivering belly, hoping to arouse her again. 

Harriet gave a deeply satisfied sigh and stretched her body under him. 
"Christ, that was good!" she murmured. "I haven't had a ride like that in a 
long time!" 

"You're not finished yet," Bob Grant gasped, supremely confident in the 
miracle that he had wrought. 

She put up a hand and ruffled his hair. "You sure held back a long time," 
she said admiringly. 

"But not for much longer. I'm almost there." He was breathing hard and there 
was a dew of perspiration on his upper lip. 

Harriet shifted her position and smiled salaciously up into his face. "Roll 
over darling," she whispered, nibbling at the lobe of his ear. "I'm going to 
give you a special reward for being so patient!" 

Reluctantly, the adulterous young husband pulled back, sliding his aching 
hardness wetly out of the passion-drenched warmth of her pussy. He hated to 
withdraw it: he was so near cumming in her belly That he didn't want to 
stop. But he had to let her do it her way . . . it would be better that way 
until he had learned more about making love to her. He had never done 
anything with his own wife but climb on top of her and shoot it off after a 
few quick strokes and that was it! Joanna didn't like to play -- yet. Well 
maybe he'd learn some things here that she might like after all, if only he 
could get her to cooperate. In the meantime, he'd just let Bonner's wife 
handle it until he learned a little more about really pleasing a woman! 

Pleased with his performance so far and panting eagerly for the next phase, 
Bob Grant eased away from the womanly softness of Harriet Bonner's naked 
flesh, and rolled over on his back. His heart was hammering under his ribs 
as he lay tense with his hotly pulsing rigidity pointed straight at the 
ceiling, the blood-engorged head throbbing painfully at the top of the 
glistening shaft. 

She turned on her side toward him, reaching out with her hand to stroke the 
sensitive flesh of his foreskin up and down the iron-hard rod in a slow, 
magical rhythm that increased the ache in his semen-bloated balls almost 
beyond endurance. Then she rose to her knees and hovered over him on all 
fours with her face only inches away from the moistly trembling head of his 
cock. Holding it tightly between both hands, she rolled and stroked it 
between her palms in a teasing up and down motion that compelled him to 
undulate his loins in time to the maddening rhythm. 

Slowly her head lowered itself towards his throbbing hardness -- and then 
suddenly her tongue flickered forward, the tip boring teasingly into the 
wetness of the tiny slit on the end. He sucked in his breath at the 
unexpected contact, groaning far back in his throat. Chills rippled along 
his spine as she brought her mouth gently down all the way, enclosing the 
whole of the sensitive cock-head in a moist warm pressure. Her lips 
tightened like an elastic band around the thickly distended shaft just below 

the glans, trapping it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth. 

"Christ!" moaned Bob, lifting his head to stare down the naked length of his 
own body at her cock-filled face. The sight of his desire-hardened cudgel of 
flesh sunk halfway into her roundly ovalled lips increased the sensation a 
thousand-fold! Still wet from the secretions of her orgasm, the angry red 
shaft gleamed lewdly in the soft cabin where it projected from her mouth. 
Gently she massaged the soft hairiness of his testicles with one hand and 
stroked the base of his cock between the thumb and forefinger of the other 
as she began to suck rhythmically up and down. He could feel the muscled 
softness of her tongue twirling madly around the bulbous head at the apex of 
her withdrawal. He flexed his buttocks, his head still raised, gazing in 
erotic fascination at the top of her obscenely bobbing head. 

Harriet sensed the increasing tension of his reaction and began to suck him 
a little harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard 
resisting flesh of his penis. She shifted her position over his thigh 
without disengaging her mouth, and kneeled on all fours up between his open 
legs. Reaching under his buttocks, she cupped them in her palms and pulled 
his loins up tighter into her face, all the while swaying her head from side 
to side and pulling the aching rigidity of his shaft this way as she swiped 
her tongue around and around the pulsating head. Bob felt the unbearably 
inflated flesh swell almost to bursting point as she increased the speed of 
her maddening sucking, sinking the whole of the rigid shaft deep into the 
back of her throat. 

Great swirls of shuddering heat were building deep, deep in his 
lust-tightened balls as he watched her face slavering over his tormented 
loins. He could see tiny streams of perspiration rolling in thin droplets 
from the sides of her body as she bucked over him like a demon gone mad. The 
muscles of his stomach tensed and tensed again as he arched his back up off 
the bed, pushing himself even farther into the moistness of her wildly 
sucking lips. Thin pink ridges of flesh pulled out from her mouth on each 
outstroke, clinging hungrily to his hard-thrusting cock. 

Bob's lips were working crazily as a stream of incoherent murmurs forced 
themselves between his clenched teeth. And suddenly he gasped. 

The moment was here! 

A low guttural sound moaned deep in his throat as he felt the scalding sperm 
jet forward from deep in his balls and begin spewing in hot thin streams 
into her insanely sucking mouth. Fish-like, her cheeks expanded and hollowed 
as she swallowed the warmly flooding gushes to keep from choking. She went 
on sucking greedily as he emptied his white-hot sperm endlessly into the 
wetness of her mouth. His hands tangled cruelly in her dark hair, holding 
her head forcibly down on the throbbing of his loins as he pushed his 
squirting rod of male flesh all the way back to her throat. 

Harriet coughed and swallowed to regain her breath as he moaned and jerked . 
. . and then at last he grunted in complete fulfillment. Slowly, the massive 
cock deflated in her mouth as she continued her gentle sucking, drawing 
every last tiny drop of the warn sticky sperm from the pulsing head. 

And then it was over. She had sucked him dry and with a final groan he 
collapsed, arms widespread, across the bed. She nibbled gently at him for 
awhile, her head resting on his shuddering thigh, and then crawled up over 
his body to cradle his head against her still heaving breasts. She bent down 
and kissed him on the lips. 

"Nice?" she said softly after a moment. 

"Mmmmmmm!" he murmured sleepily, flicking out his tongue to lick caressingly 
at the tautly swelling curve on the underside of one breast. 

"I know more." 

"Can there be more?" He half sat up, staring at her in amazement. 

Her soft lips parted in an infinitely erotic smile; her eyes danced 
mischievously in the soft light of the cabin. Rolling suddenly over on to 
her back, she pulled her knees up to her chest, reached both hands around 
behind her buttocks, and splayed open the wetly glistening lips of her 
hair-lined cunt with her fingertips. "Kiss me darling," she said. 

 Chapter Five 

The Arcadia pulled up her anchors and steamed north and west for Istanbul at 
midnight. Before she left Iskenderun several things happened that were to 
have profound effects on the lives of some of her passengers and crew. 

The shore parties had to be back aboard by 10 p.m. but crew members were due 
an hour earlier. Alfred Maddon climbed jauntily up the ladder from the 
tender, whistling softly to himself. The day had gone well. He had made 
contact with his usual connection and picked up a quantity of hashish and a 
number of flat, oiled silk sachets containing heroin and cocaine, which he 
had concealed in special pockets sewn below the knee inside his wide 
steward's pants. He had finally managed to meet -- and bribe -an area police 
captain whose cooperation would help him a great deal in the future. He had 
left the usual presents with his friends in the Customs, he had successfully 
carried out the little assignment demanded of him by Len Bonner, and last 
but by no means least there had been Fatima! 

His lips curled into a reminiscent smile as he recalled the gymnastic 
contortions the dusky-skinned Arabian dancer had gone through to please him 
in the hired bedroom above the waterfront bar. Yes, it had been a good day! 
And what that little tart could do with her tits! 

One of the first calls he received after he had secreted his small stash of 
contraband narcotics was from Stateroom B-7 -- the Grants' cabin. Shrugging 
himself hastily into his white mess jacket, he hurried along the passage and 
tapped on the door. 

Bob Grant was alone in the cabin. Maddon . . . who had heard the best part 
of the young man's quarrel with his wife that morning from the other side of 
the door, had expected him to be drunk, maudlin, or at the very least 
sullen. But he appeared to be in very good spirits. He was humming gaily to 
himself, a razor in one hand, as he wiped the dried lather from his cheeks 
with a towel held in the other. Judging from the state of the bed, he had 
just woken up from a long sleep. That was a very odd way for a man to 
behave, Maddon thought, when his wife had spent the whole day ashore with 
someone else. Especially when that someone else was Len Bonner! If it had 
been his wife, he would have been hopping mad, pacing the bloody cabin until 
she got back! 

"Evenin' Mr. Grant," Maddon said. "Can I get you something?" 

"Good evening, good evening, good evening," Bob caroled happily. "Yes you 
can indeed. The thought just came to me that what I need is a drink. A 
king-size, power-packing, large and lovely drink!" 

"A drink, sir. Yes sir. Did you have something special in mind?" 

"I sure did, Alfred my boy! Something very special! You can bring me a large 
port and brandy." 

"A port and brandy, sir?" Maddon permitted his eyebrows to scale two of the 
ridges creasing his brow. "Excuse my asking, Mr. Grant, but have you an 
upset stomach, sir?" 

"Upset? Why certainly not! It's just that I think it's a great drink. In 
fact while you're about it, you'd better bring me two: I may need another 
later!" 

"Just as you say, sir." "And Alfred . . ." 

"Sir?" 

"I don't suppose you could get me something to eat, could you? I was . . . 
er . . . kinda busy earlier, and then I fell asleep, and I guess it's too 
late to dine now, eh?" 

"I'm afraid they stop serving dinner in the dining saloon at nine thirty," 
Maddon said. "And it's almost that now. I could get you a chicken sandwich 
or something like that. Or there's always the snack bar on "D" Deck -- it's 
kind of a cafeteria and it's open all night." 

"A chicken sandwich it shall be. Two chicken sandwiches! I don't want to get 
dressed and go on out: there's . . . it . . . there's a couple of things I 
have to attend to right here; later on." 

I'll bet there are, you randy sod! Maddon thought to himself as he bowed and 
left the cabin. 

After he had ordered the sandwiches from the kitchen he began to prepare the 
two drinks. When they were ready he fished a small gelatin capsule from an 
inner pocket, carefully unscrewed the two halves, and emptied the fine white 
powder it had contained into one of the glasses. 

Young Grant might protest that he had nothing wrong with his guts right now 
. . . but he sure would have before the night was out! 

* * * 

Joanna Grant and Len Bonner came aboard with a crowd of other passengers 
from the last tender at ten o'clock. To the girl's astonishment, the day 
hadn't been too bad after all. As if to disprove both her own fears and 
Bob's insinuations, the advertising man hadn't been the slightest bit 
difficult. He hadn't made a pass at her; he hadn't propositioned her or made 
lewdly indecent suggestions; in fact he hadn't laid a finger on her all day 
except for such necessary attentions as pulling out her chair in a 
restaurant, helping her on or off with her linen jacket, or taking her arm 
to pilot her across a busy street. 

More than that, he had actually been an amusing companion. It seemed that he 
had been to Iskenderun before, once when he was handling a big account for 
an oil company. At any rate, he knew the town well and he was an interesting 
and informative guide, taking her to places off the tourist track, waiting 
patiently while she explored the bazaars, and insisting on buying her lunch 
and dinner. She had bought some souvenir trinkets for her folks and she had 
got hold of some real cute things for the home. They had dined in the open 
air, sitting under a fig tree in a patio restaurant outside the town while a 
band of strange stringed instruments played softly among the fireflies. Over 
the coffee, Len Bonner had become almost fatherly, advising her about her 
modeling career and . . . this was exciting! . . . promising to give her 
introductions to the bosses of two photographic agencies who worked for him. 
All in all -- she had to admit it -- she had enjoyed her day with him! Of 
course she had been a bit worried that morning when Mrs. Bonner had turned 
out to be sick, suspecting some kind of a setup and expecting the worst. But 
the husband couldn't have been more attentive . . . or less of a wolf. 
Naturally it would have been even better if Bob had been there too, but . . 
. 

Climbing the ship's ladder with her arms laden with packages, she sighed as 
she thought of the quarrel that still had to be resolved. If she enthused 
and told him what a good time she'd had, he'd become sullen and angry again. 
But if she said nothing, he'd think she was holding back something 
disreputable and he'd get jealous and bad tempered! Oh dear, she could see 
she was in for a difficult time! 

And if only Bob would listen, if only he'd be a little reasonable and not 
think he could conquer the world all on his own, she was sure Mr. Bonner 
could help him too. He'd spoken very kindly of Bob during lunch, which was 
big of him considering how rude Bob had been with them. She hoped not, or 
that would mean another row. He'd probably accuse her of having fixed it 
deliberately! 

"Mr. Bonner I have to thank you for a wonderful day," she said as they 
walked along the promenade deck towards the companionway. 

"Why, gee, that's okay Joanna," Len Bonner said. "It was a real pleasure. It 
was just too bad that Mrs. Bonner and your husband couldn't come along too." 

"Those bazaars!" Joanna laughed. "And those cute little stalls in the 
markets with the merchants sitting outside among all their pots and pans! 
And fancy running into Alfred, the steward . . . right there in the middle 
of the old quarter! That was funny, don't you think?" 

"Not really. I expect he has a girl tucked away there some place," Len 
Bonner said comfortably. "They're supposed to have one in every port. 
Sailors." 

"So they are. But I never think of him as a sailor somehow. More like a 
waiter really. You don't think he was drunk, do you?" 

"Drunk? Why do you say that?" 

"Well, because he stumbled and fell against me. And the sidewalk was really 
quite wide just there. He had to grab hold of me to save himself from 
falling down" 

"I guess he just slipped or something," Len said. "They get into pretty hot 
water if they misbehave on shore. And quite right too!" 

They had just turned a corner one section away from their own corridor on 
"B" Deck when Len himself appeared to miss his step. Cannoning into the 
girl, he inadvertently knocked two of the packages from her arms and shot 
her purse out from under her elbow onto the floor. 

Apologizing profusely, he stooped to retrieve the purse, handed it back to 
her with the packages, and then began to collect the contents of the white 
patent handbag which lay strewn over the deck . . . a lipstick, a handful of 
coins, a gold flapjack, a comb, a packet of tissues, and a small parcel 
wrapped in grey waxed paper. 

"Thank you . . . it's quite all right . . . really . . . thank you . . . 
why, whatever's that?" Joanna exclaimed. 

Len was rising slowly to his feet staring at the package. It was about five 
inches long by three inches wide and an inch deep. A corner of the waxed 
paper seemed to have got torn in the fall and through the gash a greenish 
brown substance that looked like unripe tea-leaves was trickling. 

He tipped some of it into the palm of his hand and sniffed. It had a curious 
aromatic odor. As he raised his eyes to her face his expression was somber. 
"Joanna," he said severely, "I'm disappointed in you." 

She was frowning in bewilderment. "I don't know what you mean." 

"I know some of us older folks seem pretty square to the younger 
generation," he said heavily. "I understand all that stuff about freedom and 
liberalism and doing your own thing that you keep ramming down our throats. 
I don't go along with all of it, but I understand. There has to be a limit, 
though. You have to draw the line some place, and when it comes to smuggling 
dope . . ." 

"Dope!" Joanna squealed. "Smuggling? whatever do you mean?" 

"You're not trying to tell me you didn't know there was a package of 
marijuana in your purse? Look, this stuffs poison, Joanna. If you don't care 
about your own health, you should think of other people. It's when kids get 
stoned on this stuff that they experiment with the hard drugs. You should be 
ashamed of yourself peddling such filth!" 

"But I didn't . . . I wasn't . . . I mean I didn't know," the poor girl 
stammered, absolutely aghast at what she was hearing. 

"I suppose you picked it up from your connection when you made that excuse 
to leave me in the old town," Len said sadly. 

"I didn't make an excuse. I wanted some things for my folks . . . I went to 
a curio shop. And since you'd said you had to spend ten minutes in that 
office with your colleagues, I thought . . . look, I swear I know nothing 
about that package. I've never set eyes on it before. You've got to believe 
me!" "I wish I could believe you," he said, shaking his head and sighing. 
"Look, this is a very serious offense, Joanna. Smuggling's bad enough, but 
smuggling hash -- that's an automatic jail sentence wherever you are. 

"Mr. Bonner . . . Len. . . How can I make you understand: I didn't know!" 

"It walked into your purse all on its own maybe? It's you, that doesn't 
understand: I have connections with the Narcotics Bureau in New York City. 
It's my duty to report this right away to the Captain. I'm sorry but I don't 
see what else I can do." 

Joanna had begun to cry. "Please, please," she sobbed. "There has to be some 
mistake . . . somebody must have picked up my purse . . ." 

"When? Where?" 

"I don't know! Can't you see I know nothing about that awful package . . .? 
Oh please don't tell the Captain! Don't tell my husband: he'd never 
understand. He'd never forgive me -- he's so strait laced! I mean I . . . 
"You should have thought of that first," Len said sternly. 

"But I haven't done anything! How can I convince you? You've got to believe 
me, you've just got to . . . please!" 

The advertising man held a silence for an unbearable half minute, searching 
her tear-stained face with his eyes. Then he said dubiously: "I don't know. 
I just don't know. I'd sure hate for a promising young career to finish up 
in a women's jail. But there is the moral side to it too. I'll have to think 
it over." 

"Oh please give me a break, Mr. Bonner," Joanna implored. 

"I'll tell you my decision tomorrow morning," Len said stiffly. "In the 
meantime, I guess I'd better take charge of this disgusting stuff." Slipping 
the package into his pocket, he stalked away along the corridor. 

* * * 

Bob Grant was sitting with two glasses and an empty plate in front of him 
when Joanna, the ravages to her face partly repaired in the ladies' powder 
room, entered the cabin a half hour later. "Darling!" he cried. "Did you 
eat? How did it all go? Did you have a good time?" 

"It was fine," Joanna said dully. "Just fine." 

"You didn't suffer too much from the attentions of Mr. B? He didn't try to 
make you on the tender? He didn't proposition you in the bazaars?" 

"Don't be absurd, Robert. Of course he didn't. He . . . he was very nice 
really; not a bit what you thought. Quite proper in fact." 

A damned sight too proper, unfortunately, she mused, remembering the scene 
in the corridor. Of all people to find . . . but how in heaven did that 
incriminating packet get into her purse? How could it possibly have done so 
without her knowledge? And whatever was she going to do? She dare not 
confide in Bob . . . he was even more moral than Mr. Bonner! She was 
completely in the hands of her companion for the day. "In End, Mrs. Bonner 
didn't come with us," she said, trying to sound casual. "It seems she was 
sick or something." 

"I know. I -- er -- I caught sight of her on deck. What have you got in all 
those packages?" 

"Oh nothing. A few things for the apartment. Some souvenirs for my folks." 

"Did you eat, honey? Or did I ask you that before?" 

"Sure I ate. Twice." Joanna began listlessly stowing the packages in the 
closet. Her face, she saw in the looking glass, was very pale. What the hell 
could she do but wait for Len Bonner's "decision" tomorrow morning? God, how 
difficult -- and how frightening! -- life could be. 

Bob was on his feet, his face covered with a huge grin. "If you already ate 
then, there's nothing to stop us going to bed, eh?" 

Joanna looked at him. "Nothing at all, Bob. 

It's a good idea. I am rather tired as it happens. I guess I'll go on in and 
get undressed." 

She made for the bathroom door but he blocked her way. The grin on his face 
was wider than ever. "Oh no you don't!" he chortled. 

"You undress right here in front of me! I just decided . . . there's going 
to be some changes made." He was standing very near to her and she could 
smell the heavy fumes of brandy and port on his breath. 

"Robert Grant, you're drunk!" she said accusingly. "A fine thing . . . your 
wife goes ashore for one day to do a little marketing, and comes back to 
find you stinking! Now you let me past this minute or I shall--" 

She broke off with a gasp as he swept her into his arms and planted a moist 
kiss full on her lips. She struggled to turn away her head. "Bob! Please! 
You smell horrible! . . . Look, if this is your way of trying to make up for 
that silly quarrel this morning--" 

"Quarrel?" he interrupted boisterously. "I don't remember any quarrel, baby. 
Forget it. Just I love you, is all. And so I want to kiss you. Is that bad?" 
His arms tightened around her and he sought her mouth again. 

She drew back her head and looked him in the eyes. "You do love me . . . and 
you're not angry still about my going ashore with . . . with Mr. Bonner?" 

"Yes . . . and no." 

"Then will you please let me go to the bathroom to get ready for bed?" 

Suddenly releasing her, he moved to the door and leaned his back against it. 
"No," he said. 

Joanna's eyebrows flew up. "What do you mean . . . no?" 

"What I say. I want you to get ready . . . I want you to undress right here, 
in front of me." 

"Now I know you're drunk!" his wife said indignantly. "What an idea! You 
know perfectly well that I always-" 

"Yes I know you always," he interrupted again. "And I always let you. But 
now it's going to stop. Hell, you have a beautiful body, darling . . . is it 
so wrong that I should want to see it? After all, every other goddamn man on 
the Coast does, in magazine ads and TV commercials and I don't know what 
else." 

"Oh let's not start going into all that again," Joanna said impatiently. 

"I'm not going into anything again. I want to do something for the first 
time . . . like see you undressing." 

For a moment longer she stared at his flushed face, and then she compressed 
her lips. "Very well then," she said coldly. 

Angrily, she tore off her jacket and hung it in the closet. She pulled her 
blouse over her head and dropped it on a chair. Then she sat down and drew 
off her white pumps, stood up and unzipped her skirt, stepped out of that 
and reached up behind her to unclasp the hooks of her brassiere. 

Bob watched her, fascinated. Of course the performance was hardly comparable 
with anything Harriet Bonner could do -- but then firstly Joanna was angry, 
and Number Two, she was trying deliberately not to please. All the same, he 
had to agree that the risk had been well worth it! He marveled afresh at the 
subtle curves of her hips as they contoured into the tautly flat plane of 
her stomach. He took delight in the firmness of her swelling thighs and the 
grace with which they tapered down through knee and calf to her slender 
ankles. He was bewitched by the modeling of her back, with its just visible 
arrow of blonde down pointing at the cleft between her ripely rounded 
buttocks. 

But his greatest pleasure naturally came when she removed her bra and 
panties. She was unable to hide from his avidly appreciative gaze the pale 
triangle of softly curling pubic hair mantling her loins . . . and when, 
seeing his lustful look, she turned away, she afforded him an uninterrupted 
view of the hairy furrow between her legs as she bent over to twitch the 
legbands of the brief garment over her feet. Her breasts, hanging in nippled 
bulges from the angled plane of her chest, aroused him more then than they 
ever had. Inside the leg of his pants, he felt his cock jerk slowly into 
hardness. 

When she was completely naked, she turned to face him defiantly. Her face 
was slightly pink and her chin was held high. "I trust you're satisfied?" 
she said icily. 

"Why sure I am, honey. You're just beautiful. I think you're the most-" 

"Then perhaps I may be permitted to go to the bathroom now?" Joanna said. 
"Or would you maybe like to see me take my douche? Do you want to watch me 
pee?" 

Flushing, he opened the door and stood aside to let her pass. 

Later, when they were in bed, he turned to her and said: "I just don't get 
it, honey. You seem to take a perfectly normal and honest pleasure in your 
body professionally, when you're in the studio. You get mad at me when I 
object to your showing it off that way. You're proud of it and I guess 
you're right to be proud. But when it comes to me, your own husband dammit 
-- then you come over all puritanical and want to hide it! Hell, sex is just 
as important as anything else in marriage! Maybe more so." 

Joanna sighed. "Of course it's important," she said. "It's good and healthy 
to have sex. But there's a difference between love and lust, Bob." 

He laughed a little bitterly. "Healthy!" he repeated. "It might be more 
important still if it could be fun as well!" 

Later still, when he had kneaded and stroked and massaged her breasts and 
stimulated the nipples to agonized hardness, he began to caress the soft 
hair-lined lips of her cunt. As soon as the fleshy folds grew moist, and his 
fingers were sliding wetly in and out of her trembling vaginal opening, his 
head disappeared beneath the covers and he started shifting himself down the 
voluptuous length of her body. His mouth trailed damply across the softly 
quivering curve of her belly and his fingers clenched around her lower hips, 
the thumbs reaching down to splay apart her warmly throbbing cuntal lips. 

"Bob!" she exclaimed sharply. "Whatever are you doing?" 

"I'm only going to . . . I want to.. . use my mouth on you. I want to kiss 
you . . . to lick you down there!" the muffled reply came from beneath the 
covers. 

"You are drunk!" Joanna cried. "You'll do no such thing! It's disgusting! 
It's . . . you come right back up here this minute!" And she tangled her 
fingers in his hair and hauled his head back up on the pillow. 

There was no going back for Bob now. "Well if you won't let me do it to 
you," he said sullenly, "then you must do it to me." 

"Do it to you? What are you talking about? What's come over you tonight, 
Bob?" 

"I'll put it simply for you. I want you to suck my cock," he said brutally. 

"Robert Grant! Have you gone out of your mind? I never heard of such an 
idea! I certainly will not. It's filthy, it's degrading, it's . . . oh, how 
could you suggest such a thing!" 

"You've hinted more than once that I'm not . . . adventurous enough, I think 
you said . . . in bed." He was getting mad now. "But as soon as I do try and 
bring a little variety into our lovemaking, you act like a prudish old 
school teacher!" 

"There's a difference between being adventurous and being perverted. What 
you're suggesting is unnatural. It isn't right. It's . . . oh, darling. I do 
want you to make love to me though! Come on, let's do it our usual, normal 
way." She snuggled her body close to him and reached for his pajama cord, 
sliding her hand down inside the waistband to search for what she expected 
would be his already hardened cock, but she was disappointed. 

Bob's penis lay soft and flaccid down along his thigh. The double rebuff he 
had just suffered, coupled with his excesses earlier in the day in Harriet 
Bonner's cabin, had left him now totally without desire for normal sex! 

With frantic fingers, Joanna massaged the length of the limp shaft, 
attempting desperately to bring it to vibrant, throbbing life in her hands. 
Nothing happened: the lifeless rod of flesh remained obstinately soft. 

"If you were a real woman," Bob muttered angrily from the depths of his 
humiliation, "you'd know damned well that I was talking sense . . . and you 
wouldn't have any trouble seeing that I had a hard-on!" 

For a moment Joanna lay in frozen silence. And then, with a muffled sob, she 
abruptly turned her back on him and stared into the darkness with 
tear-filled eyes. After her shattering experience with Len, this was just 
too much! 

There could be only one explanation. She'd heard that some men forced their 
wives to indulge in these filthy and perverted practices. But Bob -- apart 
from a couple of half-hearted attempts to push her head down towards his 
loins soon after they were married had never suggested such a thing before. 
This sudden and unexpected interest in unnatural acts, added to the 
undeniable fact of his impotence, could only mean one thing . . . he must 
have been with another woman! 

He had probably staged the quarrel deliberately to give himself an excuse to 
get away from her. Then he had taken a later tender and gone ashore alone 
when she was safely out of the way . . . to spend the day with some dirty 
little whore that he picked up in a waterfront bar! 

Crying silently into the night, Joanna heard the Arcadia's anchors rattle up 
and the engines start churning as she contemplated a future that held 
nothing for her but the threats of the divorce court and jail! 

At three o'clock in the morning, Bob Grant woke up with agonizing stomach 
cramps and an attack of diarrhea and vomiting. The ship's doctor diagnosed 
infectious enteritis and he was moved to the sick bay at once. Half an hour 
later Alfred Maddon gave a treble knock at the door of the Bonnets' 
stateroom to signal the success of the second phase of their combined 
operation. 

 Chapter Six 

Len Bonner knocked on the door of the Grants' stateroom just before eleven 
o'clock the following morning, having allowed Joanna a nicely judged space 
of time in which to reflect on the illness of her husband, his extraordinary 
behavior in bed preceding it, and the enormity of the plight in which she 
found herself with regard to the smuggled package of marijuana. Bob was 
still feverish and under sedation in the sickroom, and by the time Len 
arrived, his poor wife was almost hysterical with worry and fear. 

She let the door slide unresisting from her hands as he pushed past her into 
the cabin, and then stared at him with wide and anguished eyes. "Did you. . 
. what did you . . . what have you decided?" she quavered. 

He turned with his back to the porthole and faced her. "I thought about it a 
lot, Joanna," he said gravely. "And finally I decided that, in view of your 
youth and apparent innocence, I would be justified in taking the most 
lenient standpoint possible." 

"Oh thank God," she began, the tears spurting from her eyes and coursing 
down her cheeks. "And thank you too. I can't tell you how much I --" 

"At a price," he interrupted, raising one hand. "And since then I have come 
into possession of information even more disturbing. Something which I may 
say shocks me to the core and makes me wonder whether I may not be wrong in 
giving you the benefit of the doubt." 

"Something . . . more disturbing?" the luscious blonde repeated fearfully. 
"Why whatever can you mean?" 

He dived his hand into the pocket of his jacket and produced a brown manila 
envelope and a small flat package. "This contains the consignment of dope I 
found in your purse," he said, holding up the latter. "Plus a covering 
letter to the Captain explaining how I discovered it and where. I had 
decided not to forward it to him . . . . until I saw this." He held up the 
envelope and compressed his lips. He was looking very angry. 

"But . . . what is it?" 

"I think you'd better see," Len Bonner said. 

"And I warn you, it may be a shock to you. With trembling fingers. Joanna 
took the envelope as she looked at him with widely questioning eyes. Inside, 
there was a single 10" x 8" photographic print. "Do you recognize the woman 
in that picture?" he demanded. 

She lowered her eyes . . . and gasped aloud. The photo showed a view of a 
stateroom exactly like her own. On the bed, a naked woman lay extended with 
her legs flung wide in an attitude of lewd abandon. There was an expression 
of raw animal lust on her contorted face, but the likeness was unmistakable. 
It was Len Bonner's wife, Harriet.. 

"And do you recognize the man with her?" the advertising man pursued. 

Joanna burst into tears. Crouched obscenely over the woman's exposed loins, 
his wetly shining lips parted in a simper of depraved sexuality, was a man 
who had obviously just been sucking her widely-splayed and glistening 
pussy-flesh. His head was in profile but again there could be no mistake; it 
was her own husband Bob! 

"Oh," she cried, "how dreadful! But there must . . . there must be some 
mistake! I can't believe it!" 

"Your husband in bed with my wife," Len said grimly. "While we were 
innocently enjoying ourselves ashore -- this is what happens!" 

"I can't believe it!" Joanna repeated tearfully. "How could they! What . . . 
how did you get that photograph?" 

"Never mind that now. Naturally I questioned Harriet. It seems your husband 
discovered she was still on the ship, plied her with drink, and then -- when 
she hardly knew what she was doing -- followed her to our cabin and forced 
himself upon her. As you see. 

"She doesn't exactly look as though she's being forced," Joanna said primly. 
"But even so I can't believe Bob would do such a thing. I can't." 

"You only have to believe your eyes," Len said. "Look at the photo. The 
point is . . . . what are you going to do?" 

"Yes, you. Or rather what are we going to do about keeping this disgraceful 
piece of information . . . and what I found out yesterday as well from the 
Captain?" 

"F-f-from the Captain?" Joanna quavered. 

"Certainly. I could file this with him as evidence in a divorce case. I 
certainly feel like doing so right now. And then there's the other matter. 
I'm not at all sure I feel as leniently disposed towards you now as I did." 

"Oh, please," the poor girl entreated. "Please can't we do something? I 
don't want to go to jail. I don't want my marriage ruined, I don't want to 
be dragged through the divorce courts. Please I'll do anything." 

Her mind was in a whirl, incapable of reasoning because of the successive, 
shattering blows dealt to her by a cruel fortune. She didn't know which way 
to turn. For although her lips repeated endlessly that she did not, could 
not believe what she saw on the photo, in fact she could believe it only too 
well . . . this was the reason why Bob had been impotent last night; this 
explained his sudden and unexpected interest in the more perverse forms of 
love; it was here, aboard the Arcadia, that he had been unfaithful . . . and 
not with some anonymous floozy in the port! Through the emotional pain that 
was wracking her mind, tearing her to pieces inside, she saw only one thing 
clearly: whatever he had done, she loved Bob. However despicably he had 
behaved, she still wanted him. At whatever cost, she had to save their 
marriage . . . and to this resolve too was added the determination to hide 
from Bob, whatever happened, the awful disaster with the mysterious package 
of marijuana that had appeared in her purse last night. 

Len Bonner was breathing heavily. His face was slightly flushed. "It's all 
very well to say you'll do anything," he said. "But the fact remains, your 
husband has raped my wife." 

Has he indeed? I wonder, Joanna thought to herself. It couldn't be, I 
suppose, that the boot was on the other foot? But the evidence was in her 
hand. There was nothing she could say. 

Len Bonner watched with an inward and sadistic satisfaction the horrified 
and helpless expressions chase themselves over the girl's face. By God, he'd 
like to grab her now and throw it to her right here on her own bunk while 
she still had the picture between her fingers! But he knew women well enough 
to realize that the time was not yet ripe. She was still in shock and she 
had to be allowed time for the anger to set in. There was nothing a wronged 
woman wouldn't do to revenge herself on an errant husband, he figured, not 
matter how strait-laced she might be under normal circumstances . . . . and 
when that impulse was coupled with the desire to avoid discovery in the 
commission of a crime . . . well, he could hardly lose, could he? 

"So what are we going to do about it?" he repeated. 

"Oh God, oh God, I don't know," Joanna blurted out, dropping her head into 
her hands and sobbing like a child. "I . . . I just didn't think Bob . . . 
could . . . could ever do such a thing to me!" 

Len watched the voluptuous quivering of her breasts as she sobbed into her 
hands. He could feel small beads of perspiration breaking out on his upper 
lips as he studied their ripely swelling fullness beneath her flowered 
cotton dress. It was all he could do not to tear the thin garment away from 
those deliciously taut mounds of flesh right now. Obscene thoughts of how 
tight her wet little pussy would be flickered through his mind. But no -- he 
must not spoil it now; what he had in mind for later would be even better. 

"I . . . I guess you think I'm a complete idiot carrying on this way, Mr. 
Bonner." Joanna stuttered after a moment. 

"Why certainly not," he said with an assumed solicitousness. "Nobody could 
blame you for being upset . . . and angry . . . after what you just saw. I 
feel the same way." 

"Oh God, of course. I feel so stupid," she said in a voice hoarse from 
crying. "I was so shocked, I didn't even stop to think how you must feel. 

After all, it was your wife he was . . . was . . . doing it to." 

"Exactly. You can imagine that I feel equally angry and upset." 

"But w-w-what are you going to do about it?" the distressed blonde asked 
hesitantly. She could feel her composure returning now that the initial 
shock had worn off a little and her humiliation was gradually turning into a 
slow, seething anger. 

For a moment Len Bonner paused. This was where he had to play it real cool. 
This was where he had to change identities -- from the paternal, 
more-in-sorrow-than-anger older man to the vengeful wronged husband, 
determined to get his own back at all costs. Or to put it another way, he 
was about to stop play acting and do it for real! 

"This may shock you again," he said brusquely, "but I believe in an eye for 
an eye. 

"I'm not sure that I know what you mean," the girl faltered. 

"I mean, to put it brutally, that you are a very attractive woman -- and the 
only thing that would salve my pride as a husband would be for you to come 
to my cabin this afternoon." There! He had said it! 

He watched her through half-closed eyes as she paled visibly. "What! Do you 
. . . do you . . . but you can't mean what I think you mean!" she gasped. 

"If you do," he went on, pressing his advantage remorselessly, "then of 
course we would be in a kind of way conspirators together. And in that case 
naturally I could hardly take any steps in this other matter." He picked up 
the package containing marijuana and his letter to the captain. 

For a moment Joanna stared at him unbelievingly. Her mouth had dropped open 
and her eyes were wide with consternation. Before the idea had time to sink 
in he added: "If you don't, I see no alternative And he held up the package 
and plucked the envelope and the photograph from her nerveless fingers. 
Then, before the luckless girl had time to protest, he had turned and walked 
to the cabin door. "I'll give you until three o'clock to make up your mind," 
he said harshly. "If you haven't appeared by then, then I'm afraid these two 
communications will be on their way up to the bridge." 

Jerking open the door, he left the stateroom without another look. 

* * * 

At two minutes to three, Joanna Grant hesitated outside Stateroom B- 2. Her 
mind was in a whirl. She had been to visit Bob again in the sick bay at 
lunch time . . . but he was still tossing and turning, groaning with fever 
and in no state to talk. The dreadful decision confronting her had to be 
made all on her own. Horrified by the inexplicable mystery of the 
incriminating package in her purse, her fears for her future and Bob's 
already compromised by the proof of his infidelity, she felt in her anguish 
that she had no choice. If she wished to save her marriage, she had no 
alternative but to yield to Len Bonner's blackmailing demands -- whatever 
they might be. 

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she raised a tremulous hand and 
knocked. 

The door opened at once. Len was dressed in a loose toweling robe lightly 
tied about his waist. There was a cigar between his lips. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed- "So you decided to play it my way! That's a sensible 
girl! I'm sure you won't be sorry . . . and this way there's a chance we'll 
both get a bit of fun out of it, too!" 

"Mr. Bonnet . . . Len I'm not sure that I quite understand what you want me 
to do . . . Joanna began tearfully as he closed the door behind her. 

He laid his smoking cigar in an ashtray and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh no? Don't 
try to kid me, Joanna -- I think you know very well . . !" 

"I-I-I don't know what you mean," she faltered. 

"I guess you better have a drink, honey," Len said. He walked across to the 
table beneath the porthole and picked up two glasses of a milky, greenish 
liquid. Through the half-closed drapes she could see the bright blue sea 
gliding past as the Arcadia steamed along parallel with the distant 
coastline. 

"What is it?" Joanna asked curiously, her fears for the moment forgotten as 
she stared at the opaque fluid in the half light of the cabin. 

"It's Pernod. It won't do you any harm in fact it'll do you a lot of good," 
Len said. 

She gulped down the cold, aromatic drink almost in a single swallow. It 
tasted faintly of licorice, and it left a mellow glow in her throat. But it 
didn't seem very strong. 

That was good! I was thirsty!" she "Mmmmmmm! said. "Could I . . . could I 
have another?" 

"Sure thing, baby. I'll fix you one right away He poured half a tumbler of 
pale, clear liquid from a bottle with a blue and white label and added a 
dash of water to turn it cloudy. 

Joanna took another big swallow and turned to face him. "Just what do you 
have in mind?" she asked, her confidence returning slightly. It was soon to 
be dashed. 

"Your husband's been fucking my wife," he said coarsely. "I told you I 
believed in an eye for an eye. I'm going to fuck you, that's all." 

Joanna gazed at him petrified. Nervously she drained her glass and set it 
down with a shaking hand. "You can't be serious!" she quavered. 

"I was never more serious in my life, baby." 

"Oh God," she whimpered. "No . . . we can't, we can't." 

Reaching for her, he pulled her roughly towards him and crushed her hard 
against his body. He ground his pelvis hard into hem, sliding his hand down 
to the soft smooth roundness of her buttocks and pulled her loins tight up 
against him. She tried to squirm away from him but his strength was too much 
for her and his wet lips clamped firmly over her mouth. She twisted her head 
violently away to sob, "Please, please . . . 

"Why not?" Len demanded. "Like I said, your husband's laying my wife . . . 
why shouldn't I even the score and lay his, by God?" 

"Oh please don't do it to me," the frightened young blonde pleaded, tears 
welling into her eyes once more. He had her in a position where she couldn't 
fight back and he knew it. If she resisted too strongly, both Bob and the 
captain would be brought into the affair and all her chances of future 
happiness would be mined forever. Oh, why had she insisted on that damned 
trip ashore when Bob had asked her not to go? Why hadn't she been satisfied 
to please her husband instead of selfishly demanding that she must have her 
own way? 

Her body stiffened as she felt Len begin massaging the softly rounded cheeks 
of her buttocks through the thin material of her dress. He ground against 
her again, his mouth still locked wetly to hers, and she gasped and held her 
breath as she felt the rising hardness beneath his terrycloth robe pressing 
into her own unwillingly moistening loins. The sweet licorice flavor of the 
Pernod wafted lazily through her bloodstream, intensifying the sudden 
uncontrolled sensations flickering unbidden through her captive flesh. 
Clenching her eyes tightly shut she fought against them with all her 
strength, but the muscled fingers of his hand tweaking suddenly against her 
nipple, and the hardness of his penis grinding into her awakening pussy, 
combined to bring the low moans of helpless submission tumbling from her 
lips. Her very helplessness and the thought of her own husband making love 
to this man's wife on that bunk only a few feet away from her were too much 
for the tortured girl's mind. 

"God, but you're built, baby," Len breathed moistly. "I'm sure going to 
enjoy this particular little swap!" 

"Oh don't, please don't," Joanna cried as she felt the lewdly exciting 
feelings ripple over her reluctant skin: "N-n-no one but my husband has ever 
done it to me before." 

"There's got to be a first time for everything, doll," he chuckled, 
insinuating his hand between their tightly merged bodies to the trembling 
flatness of her belly. 

"Don't touch me there! Please don't!" the girl almost screamed. "No, no, 
you've got to stop it! I can't be unfaithful to my husband . . ." Her body 
jerked slightly as she felt Len's fingers lifting the material of her dress 
up the front of her thighs. She moaned and tried again to pull away, using 
all her will power to overcome the strange sensations building up against 
her will deep in the pit of her stomach. 

"Baby, I'm gonna fuck you and fuck you good," Len was saying. "that'll maybe 
teach that husband of yours to keep his prick in his pants around my wife." 
He grinned at her evilly. "You ain't ever going to be satisfied with what 
you're getting at home again!" 

Joanna held her breath as she felt the hem of her dress reach the top of her 
thighs and his fingers came into contact with the tender softness of her 
naked flesh. An electrifying shock seared through her weakening legs as he 
slipped his middle finger slowly under the tight elastic legband of her 
panties. She arched back a little, whining helplessly, as his probing 
fingertip found the narrow sensitive slit of her moistening vagina and 
thrust gently into it, parting the soft pubic hair and making sudden 
electrifying contact with the tiny throbbing head of her clitoris. It was 
wet and slippery from the unwanted desire that now permeated her loins and 
she sucked in her breath tightly to hold back the groan of pleasure she felt 
building deep in her chest. 

Something . . . something absolutely impossible was happening inside of her! 
She was actually experiencing wild tremors of excitement in contrast with 
her deep feelings of shame and revulsion at his lewd assault on her helpless 
flesh! There was nothing she could do and tears of humiliation cascaded 
warmly down her face as she found herself thus reacting involuntarily to the 
maddening caresses of her breasts and vagina. She was wet there between her 
legs and she found to her horror that her hips were unconsciously undulating 
in response to the light teasing of his finger rummaging between her thighs. 

"Spread `em a little, baby," Len breathed harshly into her mouth. "Daddy 
wants it opened wide." 

As his tongue smashed lustfully between her lips and against her teeth, he 
played the throbbing bulge of his cock hard into the quivering softness of 
her belly . . . and suddenly she could bear it no longer. Tearing herself 
out of his obscene embrace she dashed wildly for the door, grabbed the knob, 
and tried with all her strength to pull it open. 

But the door was locked. 

Len Bonner laughed behind her as she struggled vainly, desperately, with the 
unyielding handle. Finally, realizing the futility of her efforts, she 
sagged forward against the panels sobbing helplessly. "Oh, please let me 
out! Please!" she whimpered. "I'll do anything . . . anything but this. I-I 
can't go through with it. I just can't." 

"Too late now, baby," he said with a cruelly triumphant grin. "An eye for an 
eye, remember. Besides, what the hell are you complaining about? Don't you 
think we ought to get even with those two?" 

"Yes, yes . . . but not like this. Couldn't we sit down with them and talk 
it out later?" she pleaded tearfully. 

"Not on your sweet life! Old Len don't play that way. Besides, I've been 
looking forward to this ever since I saw you up on the deck-tennis court in 
those tight assed little shorts of yours! Man, what a picture you made in 
those!" 

She stared at him in horror. "Y-y-you mean . . . you thought about this . . 
. before?" 

"Hell, yes," he gloated. "You gotta be an opportunist in this life! You 
don't really think I give a shit whether or not you peddle hash, do you?" It 
was not part of the ad man's plan to reveal that the whole affair of the 
package of marijuana was an elaborate plant just now. That could come later 
when the girl and her husband were both fully initiated! For the moment he 
had to keep a hold over her. "But I'd turn you in to the captain just the 
same," he added menacingly, to make sure the little bitch got the point. 

Untying the belt around his waist, he shrugged out of the robe and allowed 
it to fall to the ground, standing before her completely naked, his thick 
hard cock standing out lewdly from beneath the slight paunch he was 
beginning to develop like the threatening shaft of a heavy blunt spear. 

Joanna pressed herself tightly back against the door as he turned towards 
her and with an obscene smile on his lips began stroking the heavy 
uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the huge bulbous head. 

She wanted to close her eyes to shut out the honor, but she was frightened 
that he would approach her without her knowing it. He was still grinning, 
gloating, evidently enjoying the brutal torment he was subjecting her to. He 
was a sadist, and like a trapped animal she watched the faint glint of 
cruelty in his eye as it brightened to a glow. 

"Like the look of it?" he leered, continuing to stroke his massive organ. "I 
bet your husband never had anything like that to stuff up you!" 

Joanna tried to speak but no words came from her stiff lips. She was 
completely frozen against the door, paralyzed with fear as she stared at the 
lewd man obscenely playing with himself. Against her will, her eyes dropped 
again to the hard fleshy instrument he was holding in his hand. 

My God, it was thick! 

Despite her fear she found herself wondering how a woman could take such a 
thing up inside of her without being completely split apart. 

With his barrel chest and his muscled thighs and his huge cock, Len Bonner 
was built and he knew it! For a moment longer he stood reveling in the fear 
induced in the poor girl by the size of his penis -- and then he started 
slowly towards her. "Are you gonna take those clothes off?" he demanded. "Or 
do I have to do it for you?" 

"D-d-d-don't touch me!" Joanna squealed. 

She knew there was no escape now. He was going to ravish her helpless body 
no matter how hard she pleaded for mercy. I-I-I'll scream for help!" she 
cried desperately. 

"Go right ahead! Everyone's up on deck watching the deck-tennis semifinals. 
There ain't nobody down here but the steward -- and he's a buddy of mine." 

It was only too true. She and Bob should have been in those semifinals right 
now. She'd scratched their names from the list on account of his illness 
only half an hour ago. As for Alfred Maddon . . . well, she'd always known 
there was something screwy about that man! No -- there was no hope left. 
There was nothing she could do against Len Bonner's strength. She was alone 
and completely at his mercy. 

He reached out with his thick meaty hands and with a sudden grab he spun her 
around so that her back was towards him. The next moment, the zipper at the 
back of her dress was jerked open down to the top of her buttocks. She could 
feel the cool rush of air from a ventilator against her skin as he pulled 
the garment from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a soft heap 
around her ankles. The snaps of her brassiere came next. She heard him 
mutter a faint sigh of lustful appreciation as he dropped it to the floor 
beside the dress and her firm full breasts burst into the open air. Then he 
dropped to his knees behind her as she swayed above him, and hooked his 
fingers roughly in the elastic waistband of her white nylon panties to pull 
them down over the softness of her taut round buttocks and then let them 
fall among the other clothes at her feet. 

There was nothing left, She stood before him totally naked, almost losing 
her balance as he placed his hands on the fleshy swell of her hips and spun 
her round to face him again. Abruptly she felt the pressure of his lips 
nibbling damply at the naked flesh of her belly. The sudden wet contact sent 
a chill racing the length of her spine and she automatically reached forward 
with her hands, locking them into his hair to keep from falling. Mistaking 
this for unconditional surrender, he dropped his mouth to the blonde-covered 
"vee" of her crotch, spreading the softly curling pubic hair with his thumbs 
and darting his tongue lizard-like up into the flowering slit of her vagina. 

Joanna jumped from the sudden electrifying contact with the tiny swollen bud 
of her clitoris, losing her balance completely this time and falling 
backwards towards the bunk. The edge of the frame caught her behind the 
knees and she sprawled flat on her back, her legs opening wide as she landed 
on the covers. 

Len Bonner leaped forward and trapped her in that position as she kicked out 
to close her legs. He clamped his sweating palms against the soft inner 
flesh of her thighs and held them spread apart, his thumbs resting on the 
hair-lined folds of her cunt. The moist pink flesh of her naked vagina was 
offered up to his leering gaze in defenseless sacrifice as the young blonde 
wife lay frozen to the mattress, her humiliation complete, watching with 
abject terror on her face as the advertising executive's tongue circled his 
lips in preparation for the ravishment about to take place. 

With a slow torturing outward movement of the thumbs, Bonner drew the 
glistening pink pussy-lips apart, exposing the hot wet cuntal slit to his 
lustful eyes. He stared at it greedily for a moment and then with an animal 
groan, dropped his head and buried the full length of his long slippery 
tongue into the wanly throbbing walls of her pussy. 

Joanna jerked, a soul-searing moan tearing itself from her lips. Her 
buttocks ground down into the mattress, trying to escape the maddening 
assault on her most secret flesh. Her head was up off the bunk, watching in 
horrified disbelief as his head rocked up and down in greedy feast between 
her legs. 

"It can't be! It can't!" she whimpered before his depraved attack, her head 
falling back onto the mattress and flailing from side to side as his tongue 
speared in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her cunt. 

And yet, in spite of her terror and revulsion at the degrading things being 
done to her defenseless loins, those tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure began 
again to ripple deep in her belly. Her arms lay tensed at her sides as her 
firmly rounded breasts quivered from the buffeting her body was undergoing. 
Len's hands reached up over the smooth white flatness of her trembling belly 
and dug harshly into the fleshy softness of her breasts, his fingers rolling 
the hardening nipples between them in relentless fury. As his mouth and 
tongue worked in obscene ravishment at the widespread tightness of Joanna's 
cunt, his eyes remained open -watching in arrogant delight the contortions 
of her face up through the shuddering white mounds of her breasts. He was 
waiting, waiting for the first signs of surrender that he knew must come. 

The naked blonde lay frozen in abject submission with great tears of shame 
and humiliation welling from her light blue eyes. Random images of her 
unfaithful husband flickered through her mind as she listened to the lewd 
wet sucking noises Len Bonner was making down there between her helplessly 
trapped legs. Oh God, how could she ever face Bob again after allowing 
herself to be subjected to the depraved attacks of this cruel inhuman man? 
Whatever Bob had done himself, at least he had done it of his own free will. 
But she was being humiliated beyond her wildest imagination and there was 
nothing she could do but lie back and suffer it. Oh God, why did Bob have to 
make love to this monster's wife! Why did he have to deceive her and leave 
her at the mercy of this lust-crazed beast! Joanna had never felt so alone 
and defenseless in her whole life. 

Bonner's eyes remained locked on Joanna Grant's face as he continued the 
torturing thrusts of his tongue into her wide-held vagina. With cruel 
satisfaction he watched the tears flowing down her cheeks, the goddamn 
little bitch . . . she and her husband thought they were too good for Len 
Bonner, did they? Well, the young punk had already gotten his from Harriet. 
Now he was going to show the girl! Before he'd finished with her, she'd be 
crawling on her knees begging for more! And by God he'd see that she got it! 
Chuckling to himself, he brought his hands down and pushed them under the 
backs of the knees splayed out wide on either side of him. He lifted and 
pushed them up and over her body so that her shapely thighs ground into her 
breasts and exposed the whole flat plane of her hair-fringed cunt to his 
lustful stare. This would get her, he grinned . . . and he flicked the tip 
of his tongue into the tightly puckered hole of her anus nestled just below 
the opening of her vagina. 

The unexpected contact with the sensitive rubbery orifice brought a long low 
moan of anguish from the young girl's lips. "Oooooooooh, God! No! No! Please 
don't!" she whimpered, trying desperately to screw her buttocks back down 
from the hotly probing tongue licking mercilessly at her anus. His only 
answer was a lewd chuckle -- and a further stab into the tight fleshy nether 
ring. 

Joanna sobbed in desperation before his depraved attack . . . and then 
suddenly, in spite of the humiliation, in spite of the horror and revulsion, 
she felt her body begin to desert her. Her buttocks jerked back 
involuntarily toward the darting tongue sending helpless spasms of erotic 
sensations throbbing through her raw nerve ends. 

"Oh no! I can't! I can't!" she cried aloud. The full realization of her loss 
of control suddenly hit her with its full impact, bringing further moans of 
misery and humiliation at the thought, not only of the obscene and perverted 
adultery she was committing with another man, but more frightening and 
shaming still -- of the fact that her body was beginning to enjoy it! 
Clenching her teeth she fought with all her will against the tiny little 
licking flames of pleasure that threatened to burst into sudden 
uncontrollable flame and devour her in her helplessness. But with Len Bonner 
slavering ceaselessly over her naked loins below, it was a losing battle. 

After a desperate and confused struggle in her tortured mind, the dam burst. 

Her shamelessly aroused body jerked spasmodically and then began a slow 
abandoned movement up against his thrusting tongue. Her hands curled down 
into his hair and her fingers clenched there. Forgotten were the thoughts of 
Bob, forgotten the humiliation: all that mattered now were the delicious 
shafts of forbidden desire piercing through her flesh like tiny pricking 
needles of fire. 

She lay locked fast in an alcoholic haze, squirming and bucking under the 
maddening teasing of Len's tongue until she thought the pounding of her 
heart would break through her chest. The effect of the two huge glasses of 
Pernod she had swallowed so quickly was dazing and relaxing her, and she 
raised her head again to watch his face, her hands laced behind his head to 
pull the punishing lash of his tongue deeper and deeper into her. It seemed 
as though the delicious sucking of her anus and vagina had gone on forever 
when suddenly Len forced his head free of the restraining grasp of her hands 
and kneeled up between her open thighs. There was a triumphant smile on his 
lips. 

"Now I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he breathed. "Just like your husband did my 
wife . . . only better!" 

Joanna lay suddenly still, her softly trembling thighs splayed wide, her 
breath coming so fast she was afraid her lungs would burst. Her belly was 
heaving as though he already had the long thick cock jutting from his loins 
sunk deep up inside her. 

His eyes were still hard and cruel in the greed of his desire. "I'm gonna 
screw you like you've never been screwed before," he snarled. "I'm gonna 
fuck you until you scream! I want to see you twist and squirm when this cock 
of mine sinks into your belly. I want to hear you beg and pray for it!" 
Grinning in triumph, he raised himself above her and added: "Spread your 
legs wide, baby. I'm comm'in now!" 

Quivering half in fear and half in anticipation, Joanna obeyed his lewd 
order as Len levered up over her, his arms stiff, his hands resting on her 
shoulders. Then he dropped one hand down between their panting bodies to 
take the rigidly throbbing cock between his fingers and guide it forward, 
using the thick rubbery head to part the fleshy lips of her cunt. She rolled 
her head to one side with a shudder as she felt its softly thrilling contact 
against the moist sensitive edges of her wet pussy. She held her breath for 
what seemed an eternity, lying motionless in utter subjugation beneath him, 
and then, "Ooooooooooh!" she breathed as she felt the first hard pressure 
against the tight elastic opening of her vagina. 

Flexing his hips, he pushed hard. 

"Aaaaaaaagh!" she coughed as the blood-swollen tip forced its way through, 
cruelly stretching the tight rubbery opening until Joanna felt as though her 
thighs were splitting apart from the relentless pressure. 

Suddenly the grin on his face faded and a contorted expression of sheer raw 
lust replaced it. He could stand it no more, watching this helpless, 
innocent young wife spread-eagled beneath him as he teased her with the head 
of his cock disappearing into the hair of her pussy. 

He had to fuck her . . . and he had to fuck her now! 

He fell forward, his full weight smashing her warmly swelling breasts back 
tight against her chest. He thrust his hips forward at the same time and his 
long thick penis slid pulsatingly up into her cunt, pushing the soft moist 
flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it until his balls 
smacked heavily into the upturned cheeks of her buttocks. 

"Oh God! Oh God," she screamed beneath him. "You're hurting me!" She had 
never been so filled in her life and his cock felt as though it had ripped 
her vagina into a thousand shreds as he speared mercilessly into her. And 
now, now it lay deep inside her belly filling every part of her tender 
insides. There was not one tiny ridge of flesh, not a throbbing vein on its 
thick shaft that she could not feel as it stretched the fear-constricted 
flesh of her cunt, enclosed in the moist warm sheath like a sword slicing 
into its victim's belly. 

"Like it?" he grinned in lewd delight, reveling in the agonized expression 
on her face. "I said, `Like it, baby'?" he repeated. Far up inside her 
vagina he flexed the cruel cock-head. 

"Ooooooh! Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now to offend him. The pain was 
just too unbearable. 

"Beg me, then," he hissed contemptuously. 

"W-w-what do you mean?" 

"Beg me to fuck you! Now!" Again he flexed the huge member deep in her 
quivering belly. 

"Oh God, don't! Don't! I can't-" Joanna fought with all her strength and 
courage to escape this one final humiliation. This, she knew, would be the 
ultimate surrender. It was the only thing she had left. He had taken 
everything else . . . her pride, her fidelity to her husband, her self 
respect, her hope, everything was gone. She couldn't let him have the 
pleasure of hearing her beg as well, She just couldn't. 

He throbbed his cock deeper, digging his fingers savagely into the softness 
of her shoulders at the same time. "Do it," he commanded fiercely. "Beg me, 
you bitch!" 

"Oooooh God," she sobbed, her resistance broken by the pain and the 
helplessness of her position. "All right . . . do it to me; do it to me." 

"Not like that! Say, fuck me," he demanded. 

"Oh, fuck me!" she hissed through clenched teeth, tears gushing from her 
eyes as she spat out the lewd, obscene words. Her degradation was complete. 
She would never be the same again. She had allowed herself to lose control 
over all the things she knew were right and now she wished she were dead. 
She could never face Bob again with the innocence she had before, no matter 
what he had done himself. There was no hope for her anymore. She was a whore 
now . . . she was a whore! 

The bitter words bored into her mind. She was lost! Lost! This cruelly 
scheming man had taken everything that was good and right away from her. 
There was nothing left for her now, nothing but the huge fleshy instrument 
buried deep inside her burning vagina. 

Len Bonner sensed the evaporation of the last remaining dregs of resistance 
in her, and clamping his wet lips suddenly down over her mouth he began a 
slow rocking motion in between her thighs. He could feel the narrow cuntal 
passage widening slightly with each measured stroke as she groaned in 
helpless defeat beneath him. It wouldn't take long to turn this prim, 
soft-bodied young blonde into a raw, squealing mass of frantic desire. He 
had felt it by the way in which, loosened a little by the liquor he had fed 
her, she had reacted to his earlier ploys. Even though she had resisted him 
and was convinced in her own mind that she was a sweet conservative wife, 
true to her husband in all respects, lie could detect a latent hot streak in 
her that had just never been turned on. Well, he'd make sure she got turned 
on today all right! 

Joanna's body had involuntarily begun to react again. There was really no 
longer any reason to fight the lewdly flaming fires of desire consuming her. 
She had lost the battle against the obscenely exciting feelings; now even 
the thought of her own total surrender sent chills of perverse delight up 
her spine as she felt the slow rhythm of Len Bonner's cock begin skewering 
wetly into her. 

Her whole body twitched and writhed traitorously beneath him and she groaned 
incessantly up into the wetness of his mouth, thrusting her tongue with a 
sudden complete abandon hard against his. Her face was contorted with 
servile passion, mouth working, neck straining, nostrils flared, a light 
perspiration breaking out on her forehead under the disheveled blonde hair. 
The pain in her loins was forgotten now and her legs on either side of his 
rigidly impaling rod were jerking and shuddering with increasingly 
uncontrolled desire. She no longer thought of anything but the delicious 
erotic sensation of lying beneath this man who was fucking her against her 
will, and of giving back to him what he was giving her. 

Len slaved above her, moving now into longer, smoother strokes that brought 
his lust-inflamed cock almost all the way out of her clasping pussy-flesh on 
the backstroke and then plunging forward harshly into her upraised loins 
again until she could feel the heavy slap of his balls against the 
unprotected crevice of her anus. 

He fondled and stroked the contracting lips of her vagina where he entered 
her, feeling the moist hair-lined folds clasp tightly to his rampaging cock, 
flowering open in greedy desire to swallow the whole of it and then closing 
around it. Then he jerked his hips violently back, pulling his massive penis 
out of her now protesting cunt with an obscene wet sluicing sound. 

Joanna, brought abruptly back to reality from the transports of erotic 
delight in which she had been soaring, raised her head with a gasp of 
surprise. He was standing beside the bunk, his bluntly inflamed cock swaying 
above his sperm-bloated testicles, a thinly glistening thread of seminal 
fluid still joining the blood-gorged head to the gaping wet cavern of her 
ravaged cunt. 

"Get your legs up on the bed and roll over on your tits," he commanded 
harshly. 

"W-w-w-what do you mean?" She stared at him in blank incomprehension. 

"Do as I say. You could do with a little exercise some place else. I'm 
coming in the back way, baby." 

"Oh no! Not that!" she whimpered as the full realization of the horrible, 
indecent ravishment he was proposing burst in her mind. "Please don't do it 
to me there! Not like that! You can't . . . it's . . .it's inhuman!" 

He bent down and seized her legs, yanking them roughly up and over the bed, 
at the same time twisting her around so that she was flung face-downwards on 
the mattress with her buttocks waving high in the air behind her. As she 
sobbed helplessly into the pillow, he kneeled up between her widespread 
thighs and forced them ruthlessly apart with his knees. "Reach back behind 
you and spread the cheeks of your ass," he snarled. 

"I can't . . . You can't do this to me! Please, please-" She broke off with 
a squeal of pain as he brought his open hand cracking viciously down across 
her buttocks, leaving the red welts of fingermarks flaming on the trembling 
milk-white flesh. 

"Do what you're told, you bitch!" 

Her chest racked with heaving sobs, the defenseless girl moved her shaking 
hands back over the softly fleshed mounds and reluctantly dragged them 
apart, exposing the tiny puckered hole of her anus nestling in its narrow 
furrow. She couldn't believe that he would really do such a bestial thing to 
her! It was monstrous! It was the ultimate depth of degradation! Surely he 
was just trying to intimidate her, to make her crawl and plead with him! It 
couldn't be true that he wanted to make love to her . . . there! 

She felt his finger poking obscenely at her unprotected anus and jerked 
automatically away from the sudden pain. "Relax!" he hissed threateningly. 
"And keep that ass spread out!" 

Joanna felt the tip of his finger again at the nakedly exposed entrance to 
her rectum and she desperately clenched the tiny puckered ring tight in an 
attempt to delay the brutal penetration she knew must be coming. Len probed 
for a moment at the outer edges of the small elastic circle and then, with a 
grunt, he shoved his middle finger hard into the warm velvety passage. 

Moans of futile protest forced their way through the helpless blonde's 
clenched teeth as he forced his finger deeper and deeper, expanding the 
tightness of her nether passage until she thought she would faint from the 
cruel invasion. He began to move the finger around and around deep inside 
her, sawing it in and out to stretch the tiny anus in preparation for the 
greater entry to follow. 

A flicker of surprised pleasure passed suddenly over Joanna's face as the 
pain gradually faded and a strangely enjoyable sensation took its place. She 
couldn't believe that it could feel so good, but it did, sending wild 
thrills of perverse pleasure rocketing through her loins. Her mouth opened 
and she began to pant and mewl as the advertising man's finger worked around 
and round deep inside her wide-stretched rectum. 

As suddenly as he had plunged the finger in, Len Bonner dragged it out 
again. Forcing his hand down between Joanna's belly and the mattress he 
stroked his fingers back along the warm slippery length of her vaginal 
furrow and smeared the moisture up and around her plundered anus to 
lubricate the cringing orifice. An instant later she felt the hard rubbery 
tip of his cock pressing against the tight, hairless opening of her anus. 

The lewdly kneeling young wife held her breath as she felt it begin to 
thrust. Oh God, it was huge! She would never be able to take it in her 
rectum without her belly being torn apart! 

The muscles on Len Bonner's stomach tensed visibly as he strained forward, 
and Joanna felt the soft probing between her buttocks grow into a hard 
unresistable pressure against the tight rubbery nether ring. "Ooooooooh! 
God, no! Pleeeeeease! Aaaaaaaagh!" she pleaded as the interfolded circle of 
flesh suddenly gave way and the huge bulbous cock-head surged inside with a 
plunging rush. A spasm of pain so unbearable shot through her that she 
twisted and screamed again and again, trying with all her strength to evade 
the bestial impalement. She was writhing like an animal caught in a trap, 
thrashing about to escape, but her movements only served to wedge the 
thickly distended penis more securely in her tortured back passage. 

Len seized the edges of the pillow and pulled it forcibly up against her 
contorted face to muffle her cries. At the same time his pounding thighs 
forced the lust-swollen cock another inch -- and then another -- up into her 
helplessly impaled anus. Joanna could scarcely think. Everything she did 
brought pain and more pain. It was as though a monstrous battering ram was 
being relentlessly shoved into the tiny opening of her virginal rectum. 

Suddenly the advertising man's loins smacked heavily into the softness of 
her hand-spread buttocks. The punishing instrument of his penis was buried 
to the hilt in her almost split anus. She was hopelessly skewered on the 
cruel thickness of Len Bonner's cock. 

Panting hoarsely behind her, he began to saw rhythmically deep into the soft 
rubbery depths of her back passage as she groaned in anguish and continued 
to fight with wild desperation against the horror and degradation of the 
depraved attack on her defenseless rectum. Then with a final moan of 
surrender her strength failed and her voluptuous white body subsided limply 
onto the bunk, impaled on the stone-hard penis like a pinned insect. As soon 
as she collapsed, Len seized her elbows and, still keeping his hotly 
throbbing cock buried deep in her rectum, rolled onto his back, pulling her 
over on top of him. She was now lying lewdly spread-eagled, face upward, her 
shoulders resting on his hairy chest, his cock thrusting up into her anus 
from underneath. His hands snaked around to cup the softly swelling mounds 
of her breasts above him, and his knees came up slightly between her legs to 
keep her thighs spread. 

It was while they were lying like this on the bunk that Harriet Bonner in 
her turn emerged from her hiding place behind the crack in the half-open 
bathroom door and came into the room. 

She was completely naked and her eyes were glistening with excitement. She 
had watched the entire scene of debauchery with her fingers rubbing 
frenziedly at the swollen clitoris pulsing wildly between her parted legs. 
Now, with nipples darkly erect in the center of her voluptuous breasts, she 
was coming in for the kill! She gazed for an electrifying moment at the 
erotic tableau on the bed. Joanna's head had fallen backward over Len 
Bonner's shoulder. Her mouth opened and shut as the mewling sounds of 
pleasure and pain forced their way out through her trembling lips. Her full, 
firmly-set breasts rose and fell spasmodically under his imprisoning 
fingers. And between her spread legs, the thickly gleaming stump of his vast 
cock disappeared into her stretched anus below the still gaping aperture of 
her ravaged and glistening cunt. 

Harriet stared greedily at the defenselessly splayed pussy-flesh with its 
wet blonde hair-lined lips, at the rigidly pulsing shaft of her husband's 
penis buried below it, and at the cum-bloated pouch of his balls resting on 
the covers between his thighs. Then, with a soft inarticulate cry, she 
hurled herself down on the bunk and advanced her lustful lips towards the 
pair of steaming loins spread obscenely wide before her. 

Taking Len's testicles in her mouth, she rolled the sperm-swollen glands 
softly around her tongue and then licked slowly up the bulging thickness of 
his throbbing stump, on through the moistly folded pink flanges of Joanna's 
cunt, and up to the inflamed and swollen bud of the young girl's clitoris. 

Seeing her come in, Len had briefly raised his head to grin and wink at his 
wife. But for Joanna, the searing contact of the older woman's tongue was 
the first evidence the captive blonde had that a third person had joined 
them. She jerked violently, her loins arching up with an unbearable tingle 
of unwanted erotic excitement as the depraved brunette's tongue licked 
forcefully up and down the whole passion-moistened furrow of her pussy, on 
to the huge penis fucking into her anus, and then back up to her quivering 
clitoris again. 

At the same time Len began a slow and ruthless plunging into her cruelly 
stretched anal passage, pulling tiny pink ridges of clasping flesh back out 
with the base of his cock each time he withdrew for another vicious lunge 
inside. 

Between them, the husband and wife worked in slavering rhythm over the whole 
sensitive area of Joanna's obscenely exposed loins. Harriet sucked and 
licked and mewled and nibbled at the berserk girl's hotly shuddering cunt. 
Len rammed his iron-hard cudgel deeper and deeper up into her bowels, the 
throbbing head feeling as though it was about to burst apart in the 
vise-like grip of the ravished blonde's tight rubbery rectum. 

Joanna suddenly began grinding her skewered buttocks savagely back against 
his pounding thrusts. There was no longer any pain, no shame, no humiliation 
. . . only the unbidden and delicious shafts of soul-destroying erotic 
passion that flamed through and through her quivering body begging for more 
and more and more . . . 

Harriet was wildly fingering her own cunt as she speared her tongue far up 
into the hot depths of Joanna's vaginal passage. And suddenly, over the 
fierce grinding of her husband's loins, she felt the young blonde tense and 
quiver uncontrollably. Joanna's hands darted down to cradle Harriet's face 
as she sucked furiously at her pussy. Her back arched up off Len's hips and 
she cried frenziedly: "Oh God! Oh God! I'm cumming! . . . I'm cumming! . . . 
Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!" 

The older woman felt Joanna's cunt flaring open still wider around her 
sucking lips and warm gushes of hot sticky liquid flooded into her mouth and 
down over the pistoning cock below it. Simultaneously Len uttered a hoarse 
cry and his hands began clawing Joanna's breasts in wild abandon as his 
penis jerked convulsively and the first powerful wave of his hot, thick cum 
squirted far up into the velvet depths of her rectum. 

Hearing the twin groans of ecstasy above her and feeling the urgent shudders 
of the two straining bodies as they reached the shattering pinnacle of their 
orgasms cream-like cum flowed back out of Joanna's savaged anus and down 
around her mouth, Harriet too began to quiver and thresh between their 
thighs, groaning out the spasms of her climax deep into the heated wetness 
of their wildly jerking loins. 

Joanna lifted her head and gave a long shuddering cry of fulfillment. She 
had never known that such a transport of passion and joy could exist. 

And at that moment, beyond the half-drawn drapes outside the porthole, a 
bright light flashed and the shutter of a camera clicked. 

 Chapter Seven 

Alfred Maddon knocked gently on the door of Stateroom B-7 and entered with 
the tray of coffee and orange juice, "Morning Mrs. Grant!" he cried 
cheerfully. "Another dry, sunny day! Touch of breeze in the air, perhaps -- 
there's a bit of a swell running today . . . but we'll be round the corner 
and heading up the Bosphorus for Istanbul by this evenin'." 

Joanna raised herself sleepily on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. Over the 
sound of the Arcadia's engines, wood was creaking somewhere. The drapes 
leaned away from the wall into the cabin and then subsided back to the 
paneling as the horizon rose and fell beyond the porthole. "Good morning," 
she yawned. "Have you been to the sick bay? Do you know how my husband is?" 

"Taken a turn for the better, he has, Mrs. C. Fever down and he had a bit of 
broth for his breakfast, the nurse told me. He'll be right as rain again in 
no time, you'll see. Gets `em that way sometimes, the old Mediterranean 
turn." He laid the tray on the table beside the bunk and added with a pert 
familiarity: "Strewth! Looking pretty sexy this morning, ain't we, with the 
old man gone and all!" His eyes dwelled lustfully on the tautly out-thrust 
curves of the American girl's nightdress at either side of the deep cleft 
between her breasts. 

Joanna pulled the edges of the garment closer together and reddened 
slightly. "I beg your pardon?" 

"Oh come on, Mrs. G!" Maddon said. "Who are you trying to kid? What's sauce 
for the goose is sauce for the bleedin' gander, eh?" He winked knowingly. 

"Whatever do you mean?" Joanna demanded frostily. And then, catching sight 
of a brown manila envelope lying on the tray beside the coffee cup: 
"W-w-what's this?" 

"A little bird brought it," the steward said. 

"Or at any rate somebody watched the birdie! You bein' in the photographical 
business and all, you might be interested to see what's in there. Very fine 
definition, I believe you and it's a perishin' good likeness, you'll have to 
agree!" 

The girl gaped at him over the bedclothes. Alarmed by the coarse familiarity 
of his words, her mind was in a whirl. What new disaster could this be? 
Surely the steward too could not have come into possession of one of those 
dreadful pictures of Bob and . . . that madman? Satiated and exhausted after 
her session with Len Bonner and his wife the previous day, she had not 
thought to say anything more about the incriminating documents with which 
the advertising man had threatened her. She had been far too upset by the 
realization of Bob's infidelity and, worse still, her own unwilling and 
abandoned enjoyment of the debauch that followed it. Now though, after a 
night of self-doubt and reflection, she was beset by fresh terrors and 
qualms. What kind of a mess had she gotten herself into now? 

"Go on, open it," the Cockney urged. "Make believe it's your birthday or 
something. At least everyone's in their birthday suits!" 

With trembling fingers, the voluptuous young blonde tore open the flap and 
drew out the contents of the envelope. It was a photograph . . . but it 
wasn't the one Len had showed her yesterday. The scene was the same but the 
actors were different. A nude woman crouched with her back to the camera on 
the bunk in the Bonnets' stateroom. She was licking greedily at the nakedly 
splayed pussy of another girl who was herself anally impaled on the thick 
cock of a man lying on his back on the bed. The photographer had caught the 
ravished girl just as she raised her head and shoulders with an expression 
of raw lust contorting her beautiful features. 

Joanna gasped aloud with horror. The lips were drawn back from the teeth. 
The nostrils were flared. The eyes were wildly staring. But there could be 
no question about the identity of the subject. She was staring at an 
abandoned and passion-crazed photograph of herself! 

Maddon was chuckling lewdly as he watched the expressions of outraged 
disbelief and shame chase across Joanna's face. "Bit of all right, eh?" he 
leered. "Very entertainin' and all. There's more like it, too. We was 
thinkin' of puttin' them up in packets of five and selling `em for a couple 
of dollars apiece on the waterfront at Istanbul." 

"You . . . you . . . you wouldn't dare!" Joanna choked. "W-w-where did you 
get this . . . this disgusting picture?" 

"Ah! That'd be tellin'," the steward said with another wink. "As to their 
bein' disgustin' . . . well, that's a matter of opinion, isn't it? There are 
those who'd say what you were doin' was disgustin'. Me, I'm broadminded. 
It's all in the mind, that's what I say. I wonder if your husband would 
agree. 

"Oh no! You wouldn't . . . you couldn't . . . show this to him?" 

"Oh come, Mrs. G! Fair's fair! it's only right he should get first crack at 
such a choice work of art innit? You bein' his wife and all. He might even 
like to buy the whole shoot." Maddon paused and then added meaning fully: 
"And the negatives . . ." 

Joanna was breathing heavily. "I see," she said tightly. "How much?" 

"That's better," the steward approved. "Tell you what I'll do. There's a bit 
of a do on tonight in the crew's quarters. What we call a drag concert. You 
know . . . sailors dressed as women and all that. Very talented, some of me 
shipmates! Quite a few of the passengers come over to have a shufti . . . 
see how the other half lives, and all. You come to my cabin when the 
concert's over and we'll talk terms, eh?" 

"Come to . . . to your . . . cabin?" Joanna repeated faintly. "What . . ." 

"Nobody'll notice you," Maddon urged. "There'll be passengers driftin' 
about, crew members in drag, everybody. Come to my cabin at midnight, your 
hubby'll still be in sick bay, so nobody'll miss you and we'll see what we 
can do." 

"But . . . but how do I get there?" 

"Piece of cake, dear! It's in the after-castle, just aft of the games deck, 
where you was playin' your deck-tennis. What they used to call the poop in 
the old days. The concert's in the mess hall. There's two corridors behind 
it. My cabin's No. 15 on the starboard side. I'll be waitin' for you." 

"I can't!" Joanna said with a last desperate attempt to preserve her 
dignity. "I never heard of such a thing! You must be crazy!" 

"I'll wait until half past," the steward said threateningly. "I may be a bit 
bush after that. Got a few calls to pay and that. There's a mate in the sick 
bay I may have to see, for example . . . " He left the sentence unfinished 
and walked out of the stateroom without a backward glance, leaving the 
distressed blonde staring in consternation at the revealing photograph. 

* * * 

Bob Grant gazed at the white ceiling of the sick bay in some embarrassment. 
The young nurse giving him his blanket-wash was everyone's idea of the 
all-American girl -- trim-figured, healthy, tall -- a pair of frank gray 
eyes under a mop of mousey hair; large white teeth in a wide and generous 
mouth; a snub nose that wrinkled into a network of creases when she smiled. 
Even freckles. But although her manner was so cool and matter-of-fact, he 
still found himself blushing inwardly when he had to submit to her 
ministrations. The cramping pains in his guts had gone now, and the sweat 
that had been pouring from his body for nearly twenty-four hours had at last 
dried out. But he was still pretty weak and he found it somehow wounding to 
his male pride to let this athletic young woman, with her deft and practiced 
hands, manipulate his ailing limbs as though he were a puppet. 

He was lying naked on his back, and she was swabbing his clammy flesh with a 
sponge and warm water. Her name, she had told him, was Nina Hammond. 

He closed his eyes and allowed the moistly refreshing caress of the sponge 
to trail damply over his chest, under his arms and across the sensitive, 
aching plane of his belly. He heard the stiff rustle of the nurse's starched 
white uniform as she stretched her arm and began to work over the muscled 
hardness of his thighs. There was a tinkle of water falling as she squeezed 
the sponge into a basin at the side of the bed. A wet swishing sound -- and 
then the soothing warmth circling over the soft surface of his lower belly. 

Cool fingers impersonally lifted the heavy, limp shaft of his penis and laid 
it on his thigh. The sponge swabbed a little more heavily over the wiry 
hairs of his loins . . . and then his cock was lifted again and she was 
dabbing at the soft flesh of his inner thighs and gently over the pouched 
hairiness of his testicles. Bob opened his eyes momentarily and reddened as 
he felt his cock quiver and harden imperceptibly-- She was still softly 
sponging his balls, rolling the sensitive creased skin and the delicate 
glands inside against his thighs, cupping the throbbing sac in the watery 
porousness of the sponge. Surely she was spending more time than was 
absolutely necessary on this part of his body? He clenched his teeth and 
tried to think of something else as the swabbing moved to his penis, 
smoothly massaging the flaccid shaft up and down while the cool fingers held 
the organ away from his belly. Despite himself, he sensed his cock jerk and 
expand further. 

After a few more strokes, the nurse shifted her grip, holding the shaft in 
such a way that the loose foreskin was pulled back and the sponge was 
moistly rubbing around the blunt, blood-engorged head. The touch of her 
fingers strengthened as the rod stiffened into full rigidity, throbbing 
against the pressure of her hand. 

Bob was so embarrassed that he did not know where to look. His agonized eyes 
met the coolly amused gaze of Nina Hammond. "Would you like me to get rid of 
that for you?" she asked matter-of-factly. 

The young man could only nod feebly. His cock was beginning to ache 
uncomfortably and tiny shivers of desire were flaming through his loins. 

The nurse nodded too as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 
The pressure of her fingers tightened again, and she began massaging his 
rigidly erected cock with her hand. "I can do it better like this," she said 
. . . and the next moment she had scrambled up on to the sick bed and 
straddled his body with her knees on either side of his shoulders and the 
starched skids of her uniform falling over his face. 

Bob was dumbfounded. In the half light of the cotton-bounded world between 
her thighs, he saw that she was wearing no panties. The pinkish edges of her 
vaginal lips glistened moistly in the dark hair-lined furrow between her 
legs only an inch above his face. Softly curling hairs grazed his forehead 
and the full fleshy lips of her cunt rested damply on the bridge of his 
nose. 

As she began to pull and jerk his turgid penis with long hard strokes of her 
hand, the new expanded universe of sexuality opened up to him by Harriet 
Bonner only the day before flowered lustfully around him. Almost 
instinctively, his hands rose up to grasp the uniformed starchiness of the 
nurse's ripely swelling hips, pulling her loins down toward him his tongue 
stole out from between his lips and buried itself between the hotly 
throbbing flanges of her pussy. 

The girl tensed, her loins quivered, as Bob's tongue slavered up and down 
the warmly moistening length of her vaginal furrow, and she lowered herself 
along the muscular plane of his naked body so that her full firm breasts 
were smashed against his hips and he could feel the soft weight of her belly 
resting on his chest. 

Pulling her hard down against him, he thrust his tongue suddenly far up into 
the hotly ridged passage of her vagina. She gasped aloud, squirming her 
belly down on him as she clamped her cool thighs firmly on either side of 
his head. Moving his arms slowly back and forth, Bob began rocking her hips 
to and fro, sliding the widespread hair-lined slit of her steaming pussy up 
and down his flickering tongue. 

Nina was panting now. He could feel her breath playing warmly over the 
sensitive tip of his penis. She was cradling his desire-bloated balls with 
one hand and massaging the viscous seminal fluid from the wetly seeping 
cock-head up and down his slippery rod with the other. 

Bob arched his loins fiercely upwards from the bed as his tongue found the 
tightly swollen bud of her clitoris and began teasing at the inflamed and 
hotly throbbing nubbin of flesh. Great swirls of unbearable sensation were 
building deep in his balls -- The lewd and exciting flickers of lust that 
had been darting through his veins were draining electrifyingly down to his 
loins now. 

As he felt the nurse's body tense and shudder with the impetus of her coming 
orgasm, the white-hot stream began searing upward from his testicles and he 
groaned his ecstasy into the wetness of her wide-held cunt. She heaved 
convulsively and the warm rubbery ring of her ovaled lips closed tightly 
over the pulsating head of his cock just as the shaft began a wild staccato 
jerking and he pumped squirt after squirt of boiling hot sperm into her 
greedily sucking mouth. 

* * * 

Joanna Grant was lost in a world of wild sensation. She had lost all count 
of time. It seemed hours and hours since she had raised a trembling hand to 
knock on the door of Alfred Maddon's cabin in the crew's quarters in the 
after-castle. The narrow corridors had been jammed with laughing passengers 
and prancing sailors with heavily made-up faces simpering over padded female 
clothing. The drag concert had just ended and she had been jostled in a gay 
throng of feminine males and masculine females, chattering and joking as 
they surged towards the bars. After the dreamlike phantasmagoria of this 
unnatural crowd, the cramped quietude of Maddon's cabin had seemed a haven 
of rest -but the dream was to be replaced all too soon by a nightmare! 

The steward had given her a drink and a cigarette. The drink had had an odd 
flavor, though it had soothed her hammering nerves, and the taste of the 
cigarette had been curiously aromatic. She didn't know whether it was the 
result of these or the dizzying effect of the swell that was making the 
Arcadia roll so heavily, but soon afterwards her head had begun to swim . . 
. and then there was a complete blank in her memory. 

Dimly, she recalled her horror when Maddon had suggested . . . what? She 
couldn't remember now. She knew that she had somehow found herself naked on 
his bunk and that he had been hunched equally naked over her, commanding her 
in a threatening voice to do something from which her whole mind recoiled. 
He had wanted her to suck his cock! She had never touched a man's penis with 
her lips in her life. Not even her husband Bob's. It was vicious and 
perverted and degrading and . . . wrong! Yet she must have sucked Maddon's . 
. . she could clearly recollect the hard ridged mass of it throbbing in her 
mouth, forcing her jaws apart, and the hot pungent taste of . . . Oh God! He 
must have cum in her mouth, spewing his lewd semen deep in her throat, 
climaxing between her unwillingly captive lips! 

But in the drug-dimmed depths of her mind there were memories only of 
pleasure! Could it be that she had actually enjoyed such a degraded 
performance? And what had happened afterwards? She tried desperately to 
collect her thoughts . . . but there were only confused images and sounds 
and impressions shifting and fading through her bewildered brain. Maddon had 
fucked her, she thought -- the obscene word floating easily to the surface 
of her consciousness . . . yet when she tried to reconstruct her memory of 
the event it was a different face, a face with a beard, that she saw leering 
evilly down at her! She remembered flames of desire raging through her 
loins; remembered pain and pleasure and ecstasy; she remembered sitting up 
and choking as somebody forced a burning liquid down her throat. There was a 
door opening and closing too. And the steward's jocular voice . . . she 
could almost hear it now! -- calling: "All right shipmates! No more than 
three at a time please! Roll up, roll up . . . ten bucks a throw and cheap 
at the price!" Could that mean . . .? No surely not! It couldn't! 

Suddenly she was back in the present. Her consciousness returned with a 
jolt. She was lying on Maddon's bunk and her whole body was afire with a 
strange sensation of tingling joy. There was a man on top of her but she 
couldn't see his face: it was buried in the pillow beneath her shoulder as 
he plunged his cock in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt. 

It was a huge cock, stretching unbearably the trembling lips of her vagina 
as the man's sperm-bloated balls thumped heavily against the crevice of her 
buttocks. There were other men there too. Some of them obscenely painted, 
holding oversize women's skirts above their hips as they stroked their 
turgid penises to the wild beat of her fucking. She gazed around her in 
blurred ecstasy. There were cocks everywhere . . . large ones, small ones, 
fat ones, thin ones . . . she was in a cock paradise, but the biggest and 
best of all was the cock that was pistoning in and out of her greedily 
clasping cunt! 

There were hands in the cabin too. From either side, eager fingers tugged 
cruelly at the fleshy hair-covered lips sucking this mammoth penis thrusting 
so fiercely into her belly. She felt a fingertip probe beneath the dangling, 
bull-like sac at her defenseless anus. It flirted teasingly with the tiny 
puckered hole, suddenly popping inside to roll around, enlarging the rubbery 
elastic opening until the very palm of the invading hand lay flat against 
her rounded buttocks, the entire finger buried securely within the tiny 
pulsating hole. Strange masochistic delights surged through her veins as the 
cock and the finger began fucking into her with a slow and agonizing rhythm. 
She was a prisoner, a helpless victim who could do nothing against the 
delicious assault on her cunt and asshole . . . strapped between their 
pounding lust like an ensnared animal . . . and she was loving it! 

A woman's voice was hoarsely chanting, "Oooooooh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh 
shit yes . . . fuck me this way! Do it to me! . . . And she realized with 
faint surprise that the voice was her own. 

The man on top of her gasped and groaned as his heavily swollen balls forced 
gush after gush of hot thick sperm deep into her nakedly constricting belly 
. . . then the others were pulling him off her still writhing body, his 
white sticky semen stringing across her thigh from the head of his deflated 
cock as another cradled himself on top of her, plunging his lust-stiffened 
cudgel into her squirming, straining cunt like a jack-hammer. 

Somebody seized her hand and placed a cock in it, pressing her fingers 
snugly around the throbbing shaft . . . and now she had one in each hand, 
jerking them frenziedly in time to the anonymous penis and finger drubbing 
up into her writhing belly. Her head flailed wildly from side to side as she 
screwed her hips pleadingly up into the penis of the sailor on top of her. 

"Jeez! Look at that bitch fuck!" a voice exclaimed lewdly, the words 
registering only faintly in her passion-crazed mind. 

"Didn't I tell you, mate!" the self-satisfied tones of Maddon leered in the 
background. 

"Goddamn, what a hot and hungry pussy!" 

A shudder of wanton delight surged through the young blonde's raw, 
nerve-tingling flesh at their obscene words and her own abject helplessness. 
Her ripely mounded breasts heaved and quivered up against the pressure of 
the faceless man's chest, and she went on fucking insanely until . . . at 
last! . . . it came over her like a breathtaking tidal wave . . . a searing, 
indescribable gush of elation roaring through her madly aroused loins as the 
lips of her cunt sucked and grasped at his hard plunging cock. "Oh God! Oh 
God! I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming!" she wailed as both the cocks in her 
hands began to spew forth their jets of viscid white fluid, spurting hotly 
against her naked breasts and ribs. At the same time, the shaft of flesh 
inside her throbbed and heaved, squirting its lust-driven secretions into 
her hotly trembling womb. 

Then another man mounted her, and yet another, as she wallowed lewdly in the 
sticky pools of their sperm, chastising and debasing herself in her 
drug-inspired and near-maniacal arousal, her mind a drug-induced haze of 
erotic delight. 

Later, they ordered her to get on her knees, grasping impatiently at her 
shuddering hips to help. Her head reeled with the effort as she struggled on 
to all fours . . . and then the blunt head of a cock was rammed into the now 
sperm-soaked gash of her cunt as another was shoved violently into her 
gaping mouth. She gagged as the wetly gleaming rod sawed viciously into her 
face, her ovalled lips brushing the short wiry hairs of the sailor's pubic 
hair. 

Oh God! Oh God! the tattered remnants of her conscious mind groaned inwardly 
as the two men pummeled her lust-crazed body back and forth between them . . 
. and then once more the mental vision of her very helplessness incited her. 
The desire flaming deep inside her belly consumed her again. She began to 
roll the cheeks of her buttocks high up behind her in a lewd circulatory 
movement, tightening her ravaged cunt muscles on the hot fleshy rod 
burrowing into her. She wanted to exploit it to the limit, to drench her 
naked flesh with its hotly gushing sperm until it seeped from her flooded 
cunt to dribble down her already wetly covered thighs. She wanted to grovel 
in it again. She sucked wildly, insatiably at the stubby cock in her mouth, 
wanting it to shoot into her throat, wanting to swallow it and swallow it 
until her stomach was as full as her cunt! She wanted to saturate her body 
in sperm inside and out. 

Her drug-boosted wish was to be granted! As her own second climax began 
shuddering deep down in her cock-filled loins, the turgid hardness flicking 
into her from the rear bulged and jerked, spurting its searing hot charge up 
her quaking cunt. It splashed violently against the tip of her cervix and 
oozed back out of her, dripping from the cum-drenched lips of her 
hair-covered pussy, onto her quivering white thighs. As she jerked wildly 
forward, submerging the penis in her mouth to the hilt, it too convulsed, 
flooding her throat with the pungent male liquid. Her cheeks bloated 
outwards as she greedily gulped down the sticky sperm, clasping her lips 
excitedly about the spurting cock so as not to lose a single drop! It 
dribbled down to her chin from the corners of her lewdly slavering mouth and 
she swept her tongue avidly around her lips to wipe the viscous moisture 
back inside as the softening rod of flesh pulled free with a wet sucking 
sound. 

Joanna skewered her buttocks savagely back onto the still squirting penis in 
her cunt and screamed her ecstasy aloud as she felt herself explode in a 
great burst of showering stars, racking her entire body with such an 
agonizing joy that she fell forward on to her face and merciful oblivion 
enveloped her once again. 

* * * 

"Christ! That was the hottest piece of pussy I've seen in years!" Alfred 
Maddon said to Nina Hammond the following morning as they sat over a pot of 
coffee in his galley. 

The sickbay nurse giggled sexily. Despite the fresh-picked innocence of her 
appearance, she was in fact a girl of considerable experience and her amoral 
character, coupled with that naive expression, had proved of great value to 
the steward in his nefarious activities more than once. The husband wasn't 
too bad either," she said reminiscently. "Once I got him going!" 

"Bugger that," Maddon said. "Did you get the picture?" 

"Sure I got the picture. I fixed the automatic shutter release -- I'd hidden 
my miniature Japanese camera among the sickroom stuff and I whipped myself 
off him just as he was cumming. You can see my pussy and you can see his 
face in close-up. It's a beaut!" 

"Good girl! Bring it along before you go on duty and I'll set the stage for 
the final act of Mister Len Bleedin' Bonner's little scheme." 

"What do you have to do exactly?" the girl asked curiously. 

"Piece of perishin' cake, love. Little Mrs. Grant already seen your candid 
camera shots of her hubby with Mrs. B and herself with both of `em. What 
with that and the hash I planted in her purse, we got a hold on her she 
can't break. All I have to do now is put the screws on her sweet young 
husband." 

"By showing him the photos of himself with me and with Mrs. Bonnet I guess?" 

"Right. He don't know his wife's already seen one of `em. I'll threaten to 
show her both if he don't do what we say. I'll nobble him just before he's 
discharged from sick bay this morning. But first, I'll put the bite on the 
girl, before he gets back to the cabin, see. 

"Yes, Alf but what are you going to make them do?" 

The steward chuckled. "According to Bonner's instructions, I have to 
approach `em separately and tell each of `em to make an excuse to get away 
from the other when we go ashore at Istanbul tomorrow. She's to go with me 
and Bonner; he's to escort Mrs. B and you." 

"And then?" 

"There's a certain nightclub I know. Kind of a special place with special 
attractions. Very special if you want to know! Each party is to make their 
way there unknown to the other . . . and then well see what happens!" He 
laughed again. "It should be quite a night!" he said. 

 Chapter Eight 

The nightclub was in the basement of a hotel overlooking the Bosphorus, not 
far from Taxim Square. The hillside was so steep that the entrance hall was 
on the top floor of the building and the elevators, having plunged past the 
restaurant floor and six stories of bedrooms, could still decant their 
passengers at street level on the opposite side of the hotel. Below it 
again, the onion-shaped dome of a minaret belonging to a mosque on the 
waterfront rose just above the balustrade marking the edge of the narrow 
cobbled roadway. Across the dark water, lights on the Asian side of the city 
cast long streamers of reflected radiance among the ripples washing outwards 
from ferryboats plying between the densely packed shipping thronging the 
channel. There were loudspeakers amplifying the voice of the muezzin calling 
the faithful to prayer from the minaret and until the band struck up an 
interminable selection of Turkish caz music, the dimly-lit alcoves of the 
underground club throbbed eerily with the recorded quarter-tones of his 
chant. 

Joanna Grant relaxed against the soft cushions of the banquette and sighed. 
It had been a long day. They had seen the Blue Mosque and Santa Sophia; they 
had taken the ferry to Sariyer and marveled at the complexities of the 
wedding-cake villas standing in their groves of fig trees along the Sea of 
Mannara; they had toiled up and down the terraced slopes of the Seraglio 
("That's where they shot that film, Topkapi," Maddon had said). But the most 
exhausting thing of all -- and the most incomprehensible -- had been the 
quarrel with Bob before they started. 

It had been inexplicable. She had expected some difficulty carrying out the 
steward's blackmailing demands that she should once again come ashore 
without her husband -- but far from raising objections, Bob had seemed to be 
only too willing to let her go alone. In fact at one time she had thought he 
had been about to make some excuse to do the same thing himself! And then of 
course she had become suspicious . . . already shattered by the knowledge of 
his infidelity, shocked beyond measure by the revelation the previous night 
of her own depraved sensuality, she had leaped to the conclusion that he 
wanted her out of the way so that he could be free to indulge his own 
lustful passion for Harriet Bonner. Seeing her marriage plunging downhill to 
ruin, she had reacted too forcefully; there had been an exchange of bitter 
words, words had led to recriminations and recriminations to insults. Then 
finally Bob had rushed from the cabin and slammed the door and she had not 
seen him since. The discovery that Harriet was not in the party had made her 
more depressed still, and it had been a gloomy and dejected Joanna who had 
steadfastly refused to respond to the jocularities of Bonner and the steward 
throughout the long sightseeing day. 

Now however, in the softly-lit luxury of the club, after delicious 
rice-filled dolmades wrapped in vine leaves followed by savory stuffed 
peppers served with a kebab of flaming sheep's kidneys in wine, she was 
beginning at last to unwind. Almost without thinking, she accepted a 
sweetish aromatic cigarette from Len and sipped a glass of pungent raid as 
she watched the lights dim in preparation for the floorshow. 

There had been an air of suppressed excitement about the two men ever since 
they came in. Their eyes were glistening and their breathing was fast. Soon 
she was to know the reason why. 

There was a clash of cymbals and the lights went out altogether. Into the 
blackness a single bright spot fingered a wandering beam that finally 
searched out the figure of a girl standing at one side of the tiny dance 
floor. She was tan and fleshy and dusky-skinned, and she wore nothing but a 
tiny sequined apron and two silver tassels gummed to the prune-dark nipples 
of her ripely swelling uptilted breasts. 

As the band jangled into an up-tempo Turkish tune loud with the twanging of 
stringed instruments and the clashing of tambourines, she moved slowly to 
the middle of the floor and stood there motionless, her hands, palms 
together, raised above her darkly shining head. There was a patter of 
applause and a murmur of expectancy in the darkened room. Evidently the girl 
was a favorite with the clientele. 

The tempo of the music increased . . . and slowly the girl's voluptuous body 
began to quiver. Her calves shuddered, tremors ran up and down the smooth 
swell of her thighs, the sequins trembled and glittered in the vivid light. 
Very slowly, the soft ripe swell of her belly began to rotate in half time 
to the rhythm -- and then the pectoral muscles above her breasts tensed and 
all at once the breasts themselves were moving . . . gyrating at twice the 
speed of the music as the silver tassels swung out and then began to whirl 
in shining arcs in the spotlight beam. 

Faster and faster they spun as the tempo increased again, until they were 
flashing in glittering circles almost like airplane propellers. The applause 
broke out again as the girl abruptly halted the circular heaving of her left 
breast and then reversed its direction so that it was revolving in a 
contrary direction to the other. A moment later she repeated the process 
with the right one, and the tassels were spinning together again . . . and 
now it was the grinding of her belly that was arrested, only to restart in 
the opposite direction to the fleshy mounds above, heaving and pulsing 
between the bony hollows of her hips as the sequined apron threshed from 
side to side and the rest of her body remained absolutely immobile except 
for the shuddering quivers trembling through her flesh. 

The band modulated into a different key and suddenly she ripped away the 
apron and glided, with the tassels still spinning, towards the tables around 
the floor. An excited murmur ran around the packed room. "What's she going 
to do now?" Joanna whispered to Alfred Maddon . . . surprised at herself 
that after all the degradations and indignities she had suffered at the 
hands of these two men she was still able to talk with them in a friendly 
fashion. 

"You'll see, love!" the steward chortled. "Just watch the birdie now." And 
he pushed a silver coin to the edge of their table as the spotlight swung 
towards them and the dancer approached. 

In the harsh brilliance of the light, Joanna could see every speck of the 
dark stubble shadowing the girl's nakedly shaven crotch above the muscular 
fleshy lips of her cunt as she undulated her hips lasciviously towards the 
table. There were tiny droplets of perspiration dewing the dark sin of her 
heaving belly as she flexed her knees and lowered her pussy over the shining 
coin. The cords on the inside of her thighs tensed, the muscles of her lower 
abdomen contracted . . . and when she whirled away to another burst of 
clapping the coin had disappeared, securely clasped within the prehensile 
lips of her cunt! "That's muscular control, that is!" Len Bonner laughed. 
"You could do with a spot of that yourself, baby . . . Hey! Look at the way 
she spins them tits!" 

Obscurely excited by the oblique secularity of the act, Joanna drained her 
glass of raki and leaned back against the cushions. The fiery spirit was 
beginning to hit her now, and the potent fumes of the hashish she was 
unwittingly smoking were making her head swim and destroying her sense of 
time. There were other attractions after the belly dancer, but she could not 
clearly remember what order they came in or exactly what they did. There was 
a big-breasted black girl from Ethiopia who had simply stood in the center 
of the floor with a small-radius spot trained on her pelvis and contracted 
and expanded the fleshy lips of her shaven cunt against the purplish 
erectile bud of her clitoris until she had induced a teeth-flashing, 
eye-rolling, head-flailing orgasm in herself that had the audience 
applauding wildly. There had been a Danish blonde who had lain on a bed in 
the middle of the floor and fucked herself wildly with vibrators and rubber 
penises and even a trained snake until every lewdly trembling bulge of her 
voluptuous body had been shuddering with the force of her obscenely 
prolonged orgasms. There had been an Arab woman who circled the tables on 
all fours while the wetly throbbing black-skinned cock of an erotically 
stimulated donkey nudged in and out of her widely-splayed cunt from behind. 
And to all of them, shocked as she was at the beginning, blurred though her 
impressions were, Joanna found herself responding with undeniable twinges of 
secret forbidden excitement . . . 

In a darkly shadowed alcove on the opposite side of the floor, completely 
unaware of his wife's presence in the club, Bob Grant had sat between 
Harriet and the freckled nurse, Nina Hammond, watching the lewd displays 
with increasing disbelief . . . and increasingly lustful arousal. Harriet's 
expert fingers had been tracing discreet arabesques on the material of his 
pants just over the tightly throbbing bulge at his crotch, sending delicious 
tingles of erotic excitement flickering through the loins, while the nurse's 
gentle grasp of his hand communicated, by an infinity of subtle pressures, a 
whole universe of sensuous joy that was entirely outside his experience. 
When Harriet suggested after the floorshow that there were even more 
intriguing things to see upstairs, therefore, be was in no mood to argue: 
Hell! Why should he worry? If Joanna had better things to do than accompany 
her husband ashore, why shouldn't he have himself a ball as well? A quantity 
of heavy red Hungarian wine with dinner, followed by several glasses of 
raki, had induced in the young man a sense of euphoria which chose 
completely to ignore the fact that be was in the club under duress! His 
anger and rage and frustration at the cheap trick with which the goddamn 
steward, Maddon, had blackmailed him into two-timing his wife were 
forgotten. He had two of the sexiest, most salacious bitches he had ever met 
on either side of him. Why In hell shouldn't he cash in? And fuck the 
goddamn consequences! 

They went upstairs in a lift hidden behind the bandstand. The room they were 
showed into was small but luxurious: Persian rugs glowed softly on the floor 
and walls in the dim red lighting. There was a huge low divan covered in 
white bearskin -- and facing it one entire wall of minor glass. 

An olive-skinned servant brought in a tray carrying a bottle of raki, three 
glasses and a sandalwood box containing long brown cigarettes with golden 
tips. 

Harriet poured the drinks, lit a cigarette, and handed it to Bob. He took a 
puff, coughed slightly, and raised inquiring eyebrows at her. "What kind of 
tobacco's that?" he asked. 

She grinned, placing two more in her mouth and lighting them too. "Specialty 
of the house," she said, handing one to Nina and taking a deep drag on the 
other herself. "Drink up and let's get comfortable for the show." 

Yeah, what exactly is this show?" Bob demanded, inhaling a lungfull of 
smoke. It tasted sweetish and aromatic . . . and curiously it seemed to have 
an immediate and soothing effect on him. With each slow ingestion, the 
worries and indignations and tensions that had been besetting him all day 
receded further and further away. He took a long swig of the raki. Christ, 
he felt good! 

Nina was smiling at him. "The show?" she repeated softly. "You'll see in a 
minute! Let's just say it's the kind of show you want to be comfortable for 
when you see it. "And she began shamelessly pulling her short-skirted silk 
dress over her tousled head. Harriet was already undressed, lying nakedly 
spread-eagled on the white bearskin, her voluptuous thighs parted to show 
the pinkly glistening vaginal slit gashing the hair-lined furrow at her 
loins. 

Bob Grant stared lustfully at the ripely swelling contours of the brunette 
on the bed and then switched his gaze to the firm limbs and tautly bulged 
breasts of the girl beside him as they emerged from the cups and swathes of 
nylon and elastic and rubber in which they had been confined. Almost 
automatically he began to divest himself of his own clothing, his hardening 
cock swaying free and then jerking slowly rigid as he slid his shorts down 
his thighs. 

When the three of them were completely naked, Harriet poured more raki into 
the glasses and reached for a panel at the head of the bed on which there 
were three buttons. She pressed the one in the center. 

Bob sucked in his breath with surprise. The image in the mirror was slowly 
blurring, fading into obscurity. But the vanishing reflection of himself and 
the two nude women was being replaced by another gradually sharpening 
picture: that of a precisely similar room with the sole exception that the 
tableau on the bed was composed of different personnel! Evidently the glass 
was one of those two-way mirrors he had heard about . . . and now they were 
spying on the occupants of the adjoining room. As the thought came to him, 
the amplified gasps of a woman in the throes of passion were relayed through 
two speakers set high up in the corners of the wall beside the mirror. 

But it was when the image focused sharply enough for him to recognize the 
protagonists that Bob really gasped aloud himself! 

There was a girl lying on the bed in the other room, slumped down in a 
befuddled daze between two men who were stark naked. Her dress was pulled up 
to the top of her thighs and the flimsy whiteness of her bikini panties 
showed where softly curling strands of silken pubic hair sprouted damply 
from the tight elastic leg bands barring the way to her hidden pussy. 

The men, with penises stiffly erect and faces red with drink, were Len 
Bonner and the steward, Alfred Maddon. The girl was his own wife Joanna! 

He choked off a cry of rage as four soft hands pulled Him back on the bed 
and thrust another glass into his hand. His mouth gaping in disbelief, he 
watched Len Bonner kneel up on the bed and grab Joanna's legs, forcing them 
sharply apart to bring a whimper of protest from the girl's trembling lips 
and expose the deep cleft of her loins with the pale band of the panties 
disappearing up between the clenched cheeks of her buttocks. At the same 
time the steward leaned over to hook his fingers in the waistband of the 
frail garment and rip it away with a single sweep of his arm. An unheard cry 
of protest came tumbling from Joanna's lips as the moistly glistening flesh 
of her vaginal slit came into full view. 

Bob stared at the obscene humiliation of his wife with mixed emotions. His 
hands clenched and unclenched by his naked sides as rage and anger and 
jealousy flamed through his veins . . . yet at the same time the effects of 
the drink and the hashish cigarette lent the event a curious kind of 
distance: it was almost as though it was happening to someone else, and 
anyway it was too far away to bother about. Besides which . . . he was 
ashamed to admit, even to himself . . . the sight was exciting him. Christ, 
how it was exciting him! He felt his cock expand to an iron-hand rigidity as 
two pairs of hands began to gently fondle it. 

He began squirming his buttocks down against the warmly curling hairs of the 
bearskin as his burgeoning testicles were kneaded and cradled, the wetly 
throbbing shaft of his cock caressed, and the loose foreskin massaged 
expertly up and around the bulbous head with its moistly seeping tip. Gaping 
wordlessly at the indecently displayed image of his wife, lying there with 
her legs apart between two men, he thought that probably she was feeling 
more ashamed, more naked than she ever had in her life. She wasn't even 
trying to check the tears rolling down her cheeks. She was forced to lie 
there with her wet loins exposed to those two hulking drunks . . . but how 
in hell did she come to be there in the first place? And why was she lying 
like that if she didn't enjoy it? It was too much for his muddled brain to 
work out. Serve her damned well right, he thought hazily. If she hadn't been 
such a goddamn prude, she'd have known about things like this! 

In the next room, Alfred Maddon was peering over between Joanna's legs where 
Len Bonner held them apart. He reached forward and ran his middle finger up 
the tightly closed furrow of her cunt, parting the soft vaginal hairs and 
feeling the smooth damp lips beneath jerk slightly against the sudden 
contact. He pressed his finger into the glistening slit and the girl 
shuddered convulsively. 

Bob could sense the tremors of excitement raging through his loins at the 
lewd spectacle before him. He hardly noticed the quickened breath of the two 
erotically aroused woman manipulating his cock and testicles, allowing 
himself to be rolled over on to his back as he craned his neck to keep his 
eyes glued on the obscene positioning of his wife's helpless body next door. 

Nina straddled the young man's hips as she watched the four male hands 
working over the blonde girl's quivering thighs, and she guided the hardness 
of his hugely pulsating cock until she felt it nudging against the moistly 
parted lips of her own cunt. Then, without taking her eyes off Len and the 
steward on the other side of the mirror, she grasped the rigid rod of flesh 
and lowered her pelvis slowly until she felt the hotly throbbing head 
insinuate itself up between the ridges of tender flesh on either side of her 
pussy. Bob groaned suddenly and arched his hips off the bed to slide it with 
one easy stroke all the way up into her heaving cunt. Dropping her hips 
until she was sitting hard on his pelvis, the voluptuous nurse drew in her 
breath sharply as she felt the rubbery glans batter softly up against her 
cervix, buried as far up in her belly as it would go. Her mouth hung open 
and her eyes glazed as she began undulating against his loins to make the 
head grind tantalizingly against the hidden walls of her womb in a sweetly 
magical rhythm that brought low mewls of pleasure from deep within her 
throat. 

Bob felt the pressure in his cock and balls mounting agonizingly as he 
stared panting at Joanna's body still held tightly by the two men on the far 
side of the two-way glass. And then suddenly the image was blotted out as 
Harriet Bonner in her turn straddled his head and lowered the wetly tangled 
hairs of her pussy to his mouth. He jerked and thrust his tongue far up into 
the darkly heated depths of her vagina . . . writhing in an ecstasy of 
erotic bliss between the two sets of wetly grinding female loins. 

In the adjoining room, Len and Maddon had stripped off all Joanna's clothes 
now. She was completely naked and defenseless before the rummaging hands 
exploring her thighs and breasts and loins. Half drunk, half drugged, and 
indifferent to the degrading assault on her body, she allowed the steward to 
draw one of her legs up over his hips on one side and Len to do the same on 
the other, so that she was lying with her knees up in the air and her thighs 
obscenely spread, the whole flat plane of her loins exposed to their view . 
. . and to that of the lustfully excited girls straddling her husband Bob on 
the other side of the mirror. 

Maddon was working at the young blonde wife's vagina now, insinuating two of 
his fingers into the hot wet cavern of her cunt, smoothing them around 
inside and then sliding his other hand up under her buttocks so that they 
were drawn up tight against the invading fingers in her cunt. "She's gettin' 
wet!" he announced hoarsely. 

Len had dropped his head to the girl's nipples and was roiling and nibbling 
first one and then the other between his teeth. This was what he had been 
waiting for! This was the culmination of his plan! Soon the little bitch 
would be begging him to screw her . . . and the pleasure was all the more 
intense because he knew that Harriet would have turned the knob by now and 
that Goddamn stuck-up punk of a husband would be watching from the other 
side of the glass! He looked up and grinned. "Great!" he said loudly. "I'll 
fuck her now then!" 

The Cockney scowled. " `Old on, mate!" he said. "I get first go, for Chris 
sake! It was me got her ready!" 

"Bullshit! Whose idea was it in the first place?" 

"Fuck that! You couldn't of done it at all without bloody me!" 

It was Len's turn to scowl, He lifted his lips from Joanna's swollen and 
inflamed nipple, and then suddenly his face cleared. "I gotta better idea," 
he said, and there was a strange sadistic undertone to his voice. Let her 
Goddamn husband hear this through the speakers! "Well both do it at once!" 

"Both? Do me a perishin' favor, mate! How can we do that?" 

"You in the front and me in the back," Len said triumphantly. 

On the bed in the other room, muffled though it was by the pressure of 
Harriet's thighs over his ears, Bob Grant heard the obscene suggestion 
unbelievingly. Christ! Those two drunken bastards were going to sodomize 
Joanna and fuck her at the same time! And she was too high, too stoned to 
put up any resistance. He'd been all for broadening her sexual experience, 
but this was just a bit too much! Nevertheless, the lewd thought of the 
depraved, unnatural ravishment about to take place just a few feet away on 
the other side of the glass caused him to groan in guilty excitement as he 
continued undulating his pelvis up against Nina's widely spread thighs, 
ramming his hotly throbbing cock up into her belly as his tongue slavered up 
and down the older woman's cunt. 

In the adjoining room, Len suddenly relinquished his hold on Joanna's 
breasts and got off the bed. "Turn her over," he hissed to Maddon, who still 
held her tightly down on the mattress, finger-fucking the poor girl's 
vagina, stretching it wider and wider with each rotation of his lewdly 
probing fingers. 

The steward obediently moved up and caught her by the shoulders, twisting 
her roughly around so that she was lying face downwards on the bed. She 
slumped there without struggling now, uttering small gasps of shame and 
desperation, her buttocks quivering slightly each time her frame was racked 
by another tearing sob. 

Len waited for a moment, staring at the long line of the blonde's body, her 
bulging breasts squashed into the mattress by the pressure of Maddon's 
hands, the two rounded moons of her ass quivering palely in fear and 
anticipation. His cock stood out, long and thick and dark, with the purplish 
veins marbling the underside, like the trunk of some forest tree. The 
nurse's eyes beyond the two-way mirror widened in horrified wonder. God, he 
would kill the girl! She could never take a thing like that in her rectum: 
it would split her in half! 

Suddenly Len stooped and grabbed hold of both Joanna's ankles, pressuring 
out harshly so that her legs were hauled wide apart and her feet projected 
over the sides of the bed. She gave a strangled scream. "Oh no! Please no!" 
she sobbed as she felt the cool rush of air between her thighs. "I can't ... 
I can't! Not that way!" And she jerked convulsively and tried to rise. 

"Hold her!" Len yelled to Maddon ... and the steward slammed his hand hard 
into the small of her back, pressing her down tightly on the bed. For a 
moment longer, Joanna struggled vainly and then she lay still, her body 
shaking from the violent emotions warring within her breast. 

Len dropped to his knees between the girl's splayed thighs, and thrust his 
finger cruelly into the tightly puckered ring of her anus as he stroked and 
prepared his thickly veined penis for the final and ultimate humiliation of 
the defenseless blonde spread-eagled on her belly beneath him. Opening her 
softly trembling buttocks wide with his thumbs he leaned forward to allow a 
large pool of saliva from his lips to fall on the desperately clenched 
nether ring and help lubricate his entry. He pulled back the thick foreskin 
of his cock, exposing the wetly bulbous head, and aimed it directly at the 
tiny wrinkled opening now stretched wide from the rummaging of his finger. 
Then, withdrawing the invading finger with a moist hissing noise, he bent 
over and pressed the whole of his sweating body into her back, the thick 
length of his cock lying directly rammed into the crevice of her ass-cheeks. 
Stretching the softly quaking white moons apart, he levered himself up on 
his elbows, pressed slightly with his hips, and directed his rock-hard 
instrument straight into the tightly clenched orifice of her anus. 

The two girls straddling Joanna's husband in the other room crooned with 
excitement as they saw the relentless staff plunge suddenly through the 
tightly restricting ring of nether flesh. They thrust their lustfully 
throbbing cunts harder down on the thrashing young man as they saw Joanna's 
tiny stretched asshole slip over and clasp the tip of the ad-man's cock like 
a rubber band. And they heard Joanna gasp with pain and utter a moaning cry 
as Bonner grinned above her, exulting in his final triumph over the 
snot-nosed bitch and her husband. She cried again as he thrust down and sank 
his lust-thickened cock halfway to the hilt, the sound muffled by the 
bearskin bedspread pressing into her face as her legs flailed wildly on 
either side of him, struggling hopelessly to escape the inhuman impalement. 

Her buttocks jerked and twisted beneath him, trying to throw off his weight, 
but her desperation only worsened her position . . . every time she bucked 
and writhed, she skewered herself further up the cock driving inch by inch 
into her tightly resisting anus. Finally she gave a long howling moan as 
Len's thickly throbbing cudgel slipped unimpeded into the rubbery depths of 
her rectum and his hairy balls slapped viciously against her moistened cunt. 
For a moment she jerked spasmodically and then she lay still to ease the 
pain of the cruel and complete occupation of her anus. It was useless to 
resist further: each throb of her tortured body served only to widen and 
stretch the tiny cavern to greater and more agonizing dimensions. 

"Jesus, but it's tight in there!" Len panted, resting for a moment despite 
his raging desire to begin fucking into her ass immediately. 

Alfred Maddon, trembling with lust beside the obscenely coupled pair, was 
going out of his mind. His fingers were plucking lewdly at her breasts and 
belly, scrabbling wildly over the soft female flesh until he could stand it 
no longer. "For Chris sake turn `her over! Turn `er over and let me in!" he 
gasped. 

Len locked his hands tightly to Joanna's hips and rolled to one side, 
pulling her backwards on top of him. His immensely throbbing cock was still 
imbedded deep inside her anus as she lay full length on her back, tight 
against his stomach and chest. Her legs splayed out limply on each side of 
his as a low pleading mewl sobbed out of her saliva-flecked lips. 

The steward leaped onto the bed. Straddling the ad-man's knees, he pushed 
the girl's thighs further apart still and then, grasping his rock-hard, 
aching cock with both hands, he stuffed it straight into the moistly gaping 
cavern of Joanna's cunt. "Ooooooh!" she moaned as it slithered deep inside 
her quaking belly, joining Len's staff already buried there deep in her 
rectum. She lay there, groaning and sobbing with shame and pain, sandwiched 
so lewdly between them, impaled between their penises with only the thin 
wall of flesh between her rectum and vagina separating the two viciously 
throbbing poles. 

Already inflamed to fever pitch by the sight of Len's cruel rape of the 
girl's anus, Maddon began to fuck furiously into her hot wet pussy while the 
ad-man beneath him started thrusting up with long hard strokes into the 
cringing depths of her rectum. For a moment they shafted at odds but soon 
they hit a natural rhythm, buffeting Joanna between them like a helpless 
ragdoll. 

The unseen watchers in the next room gazed mesmerized as the two lust-driven 
shafts . . . gleaming wetly their fun lengths . . . skewered into Joanna's 
wide-stretched loins like twin battering-rams. They could see the soft pink 
edges of her cunt drawing back with Maddon's cock on the outstroke only to 
be stuffed back inside as he plunged it home again deep in her quivering 
young belly. And the same thing was happening with the tightly clasped 
opening of her distended anus as Len screwed in and out of it with demonic 
fury. 

On and on it went, faster and faster grew the tempo . . . and abruptly 
Joanna reared up convulsively between them, her mouth opening to emit a long 
wailing cry of subservience and shame. 

It was at this precise moment that Harriet, in the next room, leaned over to 
press the second button. 

The lights flickered, dimmed and then brightened again . . . and suddenly 
the tableaux were reversed: for Harriet, Nina and Bob, the two-way mirror 
became a wall of glass again; and for Joanna and the two men it was all at 
once transparent, revealing the lewd spectacle of the young man writhing 
beneath the pounding loins of the two lustfully naked women on the bearskin. 

As Joanna's eyes widened in astonishment, the wildly excited girls . . . as 
though they were puppets pulled on a single wire -- rose at the same time 
from Bob's squirming body just as he gave a shuddering animal cry and his 
cock, sluicing wetly from the hot clasp of Nina's cunt, began a furious 
jerking that pumped a stream of white-hot sperm high into the air in 
glistening spurts. 

And then the unbelievable happened. 

The sudden realization that it was her own husband thrashing about in the 
throes of his orgasm before the two sex-crazed naked girls in the next room 
wrought an astonishing change in Joanna! The wild twinges of unadmitted 
desire ravaging her nerves took over. The low whining moans coming from her 
mouth altered subtly to whimpers of passionate pleading. She felt all at 
once free to exult in the ravishment of her body. 

It was a strange kind of exultation, a masochistic exultation, engendered by 
the very helplessness of her position, by the lewdly obscene thought that 
she was being fucked half to death by two men at once while her husband was 
adulterously coupled with two nude, lascivious girls only a few feet away. 
But whatever it was, it was exciting her beyond her wildest imagination! 
God, it was the most incredible thing that had ever happened! 

Her hips began to thrust backwards to meet the plunging strokes of Len's 
cock crammed into her rectum and then forward again to swallow the whole wet 
length of Maddon's pistoning penis in her suddenly scalding pussy. Her whole 
body undulated wildly between the two men and her buttocks began a salacious 
rhythm of their own, squirming in desperate abandoned circles. 

"Oooooooh! Aaaaagh! Oooooh!" she chanted . . . on and on in time to their 
crushing thrusts into her cunt and asshole. Wilder and wilder they became, 
heaving and groaning and plunging with ever-increasing fury as their animal 
groans of desire mingled with the suck and slap of flesh on flesh in a 
mounting crescendo of abandon. 

Joanna was the first to cum. 

"Aaaaah!" And then a longer, louder cry: "Eeeeeeeeeeugh! I'm cumming! 
Christ, I'm cumming! Keep on! Fuck me! Bugger me! Screw me! Oh Christ! Keep 
on . . . keep on! 

She was out of her mind with desire now, sobbing out an orgasm that seemed 
as though it would never end, begging and pleading with them to go on and 
on. This was the moment Len had been waiting for! This was the culmination 
of his plan! He and the steward, sensing their total conquest of Joanna's 
body and mind, both plunged savagely forward at the same time, imbedding 
their suddenly wildly ejaculating cocks deep in her cunt and anus, pumping 
their hot thick sperm far up into her heaving belly. 

As the three of them collapsed in a spent and satiated tangle of limbs, 
Harriet -- wildly excited by the lewd sounds relayed through the speakers 
above the minor . . . moved to the head of the bed and pressed the third 
button. There was a discreet rumble and the two-way glass divided in the 
center and slid slowly out of sight into cavities concealed in the walls, 
leaving the six of them on two beds in one huge double room. 

Trembling with unsatisfied lust, the ad-man's voluptuous wife and the 
freckle-faced nurse repositioned themselves at opposite ends of the young 
man spread-eagled on the bearskin between them . . . so that now it was Nina 
who squatted over his head to lower the wetly gaping lips of her cunt to his 
mouth and Harriet who jerked wildly at his already reviving penis, 
stiffening it into gleaming erection as she stuffed the lust-inflamed head 
into the greedily clasping maw of her own steaming pussy. 

The sight of the two girls haunched over the squirming Bob, their hands 
lasciviously fondling each other's breasts, their tongues buried deep in 
each other's mouths, was too much for the two men on the other bed. With one 
accord they rose and hurried through the space that had been occupied by the 
two-way glass, their cocks already expanding again into lustfully throbbing 
rigidity. A moment later, they were seizing the quivering buttocks of the 
two girls crouched over Bob and plunging their moistly glistening rods 
fiercely into the tightly clenched dilating rings of their assholes. 

Nor was the newly aroused Joanna to be left out! The sight of the panting, 
heaving, groaning quintet on the other bed . . . the two skewered girls, one 
being sucked and the other being fucked by her own husband! . . . inflamed 
her erotic desire to such a degree that she literally hurled herself across 
the intervening space and cast herself down on the rumpled bearskin with her 
thighs drawn tightly up against her breasts and her wetly quivering pussy 
splayed wide for anyone to use. As the plunging complex of sweating buttocks 
and balls and breasts and bellies subsided slowly on to its side on the bed, 
she grasped the heads of the two girls and forced them down towards her 
obscenely open loins so that almost automatically the two hotly flickering 
tongues began licking and slavering at the hair-lined flanges of her own 
passionately trembling cunt. 

And so they continued, constantly changing position, fucking and sodomizing, 
sucking and licking and fondling and jerking, the wildly gasping cries of 
ecstasy from their six slavering mouths intermingling in a symphony of 
insane sexual abandon, until it was time for them to stagger out into the 
dawn and make their way, giggling together, to the waterfront and the launch 
that would carry them back to the Arcadia. 

End 

EPILOGUE 

Bob Grant pulled expansively on his cigar and nudged Len Bonner in the ribs 
with his elbow. "Jesus!" he muttered. "Would you look at the tits on that 
redhead coming up the gangway there!" 

Len shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun and squinted along the 
promenade deck. The Arcadia was anchored in the bay of Naples and the tall 
shuttered houses clustered along the waterfront rose tier upon tier toward 
the majestic cone of Vesuvius rearing up into the cloudless blue sky. "Not 
bad!" he approved. "American too, judging by the guy she's with." 

"Mmmm-hmmm!" Joanna Grant enthused throatily at his side. "I always did go 
for those tall blonde types! Think you could make it with the girl, lovey, 
if I got kind of interested in the guy?" 

"I'll say!" her husband breathed. "The purser told me there were a couple of 
extra passengers boarding the old ship here for the long voyage home. I 
guess that must be them. Looks like we got an added interest to brighten the 
Atlantic crossing, eh?" 

"Just a minute, you two! Just a minute!" Harriet Bonner protested. "There's 
six people in this school! Fair's fair, after all. Don't forget your old 
friends when it comes to sharing out the loot now!" 

Bob Grant laughed. "I'm sure there's plenty for everybody," he said. "What 
do you say our chances are of making them before `ye get to Cannes, Len?" 

The advertising man tipped the ash from his own cigar and chuckled. "No 
takers," he said. "Besides, I'm gonna leave this operation to you, boy. If 
you and Joanna want to work with me back home, you better join the wife-swap 
syndicate we run on the Coast. And you know the conditions of entry -- one 
new couple to swell the ranks every three months. Here's your admission fee 
handed to you on a plate! With Nina's little camera and her steward 
boyfriend's bag o'tricks it should be what our buddy calls a piece of cake!" 

He turned to stare after the handsome, tanned young American boy and his 
curvaceous wife as they stepped off the gangplank and walked towards the 
companionway leading down to "B" Deck. "Just dig that tight little ass!" he 
said, pursing his lips in a soundless whistle. 

Joanna Grant slipped her arm through Harriet's. "That poor gal looks kinda 
lost to me," she said. "Maybe you and I should go ask her if there's 
anything we can do to put her wise to the way things are run around here The 
brunette's wide mouth curved into a knowing smile and she nodded approvingly 
as they moved away. 

Bob had turned his back on the glittering crescent of azure sea and the 
colorful coastline beyond. He was signaling to a white-coated steward with a 
lined face and crafty eyes as the gangplank rattled aboard and the heavy 
pulse of the Arcadia's turbines throbbed through the ship. 

"Alfie," he called. "Could you come over here a minute, please? There's a 
little job you could do for me . . . 


End
