Guilty Pleasures

Welcome to my latest series, mashing up a few more tropes. This one turned out to be a crazy ride, so get ready for something that ends quite unlike it has begun so far.

One thing you can be sure of, even though this is Literotica, and this story could easy veer off into... THERE, it does not in fact, go THERE. So either don't fear, or don't get your hopes up, whichever your preference.

Lastly, as always, I am not going for deep truths or gritty realism. The aim for me is a plausibly ridiculous course of events.

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Guilty Pleasures - Three

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Thank God the girls had laid down that edict that they were not going to eat dinner with me on most nights. If I had had to dine with the four of them that night, I might have had an aneurysm. When I sat down to eat on my own, my body was keyed up with a post-multi-orgasmic high, courtesy of Carol, that had me half-delirious. When you layered it with the still lingering satisfaction from the day before and Anne, I was in no mental state of fitness to keep from giving everything away.

I ate in the steakhouse, alone. Good lord did I need that slab of beef. My body had so much to replenish.

After dinner, however, I had to seek them out. I had a surprise for Becca, and I needed make sure she made no other plans.

I found them on the main plaza of the ship, gorging themselves in free ice cream and waiting for the dance party in the disco to open up. I was greeted with a chorus of, "Dad!" and "Mister H!" as I worked my way through the crowd to them.

I avoided looking at either Anne or Carol, which was mercifully easy because they were sitting opposite my daughter and Mary. "So Becca, glad I found you," I said as I reached them.

"What's up, Daddy-O?" my daughter asked cheerfully, mouth full of ice cream.

"It was nice of your grades to come in the day we left," I said with a smile. Becca almost smirked in self-satisfaction. "Straight As deserves a present," I said. The cruise should be enough present, but I'd already promised that months before the grades came in.

"A car?" Becca asked eagerly.

I barked a derisive laugh. "You have a car!"

"A better car?"

"No. Get real, munchkin. But I do think you will like this," I said with a smile. "You and I have a private helicopter tour of the island, complete with lunch on the peak of the volcano!"

My child squeed with gratifying glee.

"Hey, Mister H," Mary spoke up slyly. "I got straight A's, too!"

"Yeah? Congratulations," I said with a smile.

"So I can come too?"

"I don't get your report card. Yancey does," I laughed. "If he wants to pay me back the 850 bucks for a ticket, I'll buy you a seat."

"Oh, he will pay you back," Mary said earnestly.

I looked at my phone. We had bars.

"I think your dad is too smart for that," I said. "I'm the psycho with no respect for my bank account. You want to go, have him text me." Mary instantly was on her phone, typing madly.

Pro-forma, I risked a glance at the two sexpots. "Either of you get straight As?" I asked. I already knew the answer. I has spent the last two years hearing discussion of grades, among other things.

"Shit," Mary said, slapping her phone back into her purse.

"You father has more sense than I do?" I asked mildly.

Mary glared at me. "He wrote those exact words," she grumped.

I turned to Becca. "What do you say, munchkin? I know you want to spend your time with your buddies, but can you spare one afternoon to..."

"Are you freaking kidding me, Dad?" Becca said, barely able to contain herself. "A helicopter ride? I'm so in. You losers are on your own with the snorkeling," she added, sticking out her tongue at her friends.

"Suits us," Anne replied, her blue eyes momentarily green...

"Yeah, that just leaves more of those cute guys we saw signing up for us," Carol added.

Wait. Cute guys?

Why the hell was I feeling jealous about Anne and Carol? I really needed a calm, safe day with my daughter.

*

We all met in the buffet for breakfast. Becca and I were dressed similarly, in khaki Bermuda shorts, teeshirts, and our hiking shoes, ready for our flying adventure to the top of the mountain that defines today's port of call.

The side party were all going snorkeling, and were already in their bikinis and coverups. I studiously avoided eye-groping Anne and Carol. I needed no more trouble there. Unfortunately, that left me looking at Mary.

Fuck, I am terrible. Now I could not help scoping

her

out either! It did not help that her alleged coverup consisted only of a sarong around her hips, her torso only 'covered' by a bikini top less than capable of fully covering anything, much less what Mary boasted.

Man, I was so depraved, I was checking out Yancey and Wanda's kid? I needed this day trip.

And it was just what the doctor needed. The island was utterly gorgeous, and we flew over it all. Our pilot/guide was friendly and funny, and his English was just charmingly accented enough to keep us amused, even when his stories lagged. We had a more than passable lunch on top of the (hopefully) extinct volcano that formed the island, and the view was tremendous. One the way back, we had fun buzzing several beaches, some sunbathers waving happily at our low-flying craft, others shaking fists at the sand we kicked up.

I was able to just enjoy making my daughter happy and myself in the bargain, too. I managed to not think about my situation with Carol and Ann at all, meaning that I did not have to think about my continuing lack of crushing remorse. I was guilty as all hell, but I just could not find it in myself to have any regrets. I was still going to go to Hell, but that afternoon I mostly was able to avoid consciously thinking about it.

The only time it really even crawled into the back of my brain was when we flew exceptionally low over the next to the last beach. The pilot had chosen to overfly a topless stretch of sand...

Becca elbowed me as we looked out the window. "Ohhh, Dad! I'm betting you wish I hadn't gotten straight A's, so you could have gone to that beach instead! Right?"

"Get real," I said dismissively.

I truth, I had not read that there was such a beach on any island we stopped at on this cruise. If I had known... I might had found something suitably impressive for Becca on some other island instead. A beach full of naked tits belonging to women that I could feel good about perving on would have been just the ticket.

Still, it was a good day. Refreshing and restorative. I felt like I was maybe going to get through this cruise without throwing myself overboard.

Aaaaand then we got back aboard ship.

We found the others up on the pool deck. They had not changed from their snorkeling expedition, except to ditch the coverups from earlier.

In moments, I was having to constantly yank my eyes away from Mary again.

Really? I had various parts of my anatomy jammed into various parts of the anatomies of both Carol and Anne within the last 72 hours, but I was staring at Mary?

Here's the thing, I realized: My now lost ability to look right through the sexy appearances of Anne and Carol had originally evolved in the first place to let me avoid looking at Mary. I'd known Mary for years. She and Becca had played together a fair amount as little girls, even before my divorce. And even when Becca lived in Atlanta with her mother, I had still seen Mary often as a teenager, when she came along with her parents. Their senior year of high school, when Becca had moved back with me, I had started having Mary around all the time.

Right about the time she had started to bloom.

Mary is not the nubile, elegant nymph that Anne is. Nor is she a toned athlete like Carol. What she is, is a five foot nothing firecracker, with her mother's aurora of curly red hair, and a dynamite hourglass figure, with curves, especially up top, fit for a much taller frame.

For at least three years now, I had Mary firmly in a reality distortion field where she was invisible to me. I'd added Becca's new college friends, Anne and Carol to that field when she brought them around and it was clear that they would be regulars in my back yard. Those two had fucking wrecked said distortion field over the last forty-eight hours.

Now, I was unable to keep my eyes off Mary's juicy body. I never let my gaze linger, she had not invited it, after all, unlike the others. But I kept swiveling my eyes back to her.

At last I gave in and, in an attempt to escape staring at Mary, I let myself and my memories swivel my gaze back to Anne and Carol in alternation. But that did nothing to calm my libido. Now I was just rotating my betraying eyeballs between the three.

Finally, I dashed back to my cabin to grab my book, and brought it back. I considered hiding in my cabin, but this was supposed to be my fucking vacation to begin with, and I also wanted to hang with my daughter.

The fairly exciting ending of the book was just what I needed, and my eyes stayed on an appropriate subject until I finished.

When I did, I saw that the four of them had finally ditched the water of the pool, and were chatting happily near me, drinking what had better be virgin strawberry daiquiris. Mary was the first to notice that I had surfaced from my reading.

"Did you finish your book, Mister Howard?" she chirped.

"Yes, I did, Mary. And it was really pretty good," I answered firmly, finding myself more or less in control of my eyes and my disgusting gutter mind.

"What is it about?" Carol asked idly.

When I told them the basic, spoiler-free plot, Carol just rolled her eyes dismissively. It seemed like the book was more Mary's speed, though. "Sounds cool," she said. "Can I borrow it some time?"

"You can have it now," I offered, extending the book toward her. She seemed about to reach for it, then looked down for a second. Then she brightened. "No thanks, I still have one of my own I'm working on. Don't toss it though, okay?"

"I never throw out books, Mary," I said reassuringly. "Have you seen my library?"

"Kind of hard to miss it," Anne put in. With the departure of my wife and a good deal of her furniture, I had covered two walls of the living room these girls all went through constantly with floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Hello, my name is Clark, and I'm a book-a-holic.

"Well when we get back," I said to Mary, "this one will be in the thriller section. All of you guys know you are free to come over and help yourself any time."

I immediately regretted what I said, as I caught sly looks from both Anne and Carol at my wording.

Mary just smiled idly, then turned to Becca. "Yo, roomie! Unless you want to go first, I'm going to go take a long shower and get ready for dinner tonight." Becca waved her hand idly in reply. She had not gotten the sun that the others had that day because of the trip with me, and was soaking up rays still, even though the sun was going down fast. "You are eating with us tonight for once, right Mister Howard?" Mary added to me.

Before I could answer, all four of them, even my daughter chorused that I most definitely was. "You haven't found a Cruise Girlfriend yet, Dad," Becca said firmly. "So you are just going to have to put up with eating with us."

Yeah, that comment did nothing to raise my comfort level, but I was apparently going to have dinner with my crew. Let the sugar daddy speculation renew among our fellow passengers...

It did not help that all four girls dressed like mature adult women that evening. It should have, but it didn't. I realized that had they dressed like teenagers, in Pokemon shirts or whatever, I would look like what I was supposed to be, a long-suffering dad wrangling his rambunctious charges. But with these four poised, grown-up looking women, I looked like what I was most emphatically not supposed to be, an idiot with a far-too-young harem of sugar babies.

At least they were all dressed fairly demurely. Only Mary, out of all of them, so much as displayed some cleavage. Of course it had to be Mary... My diseased mind had caved to two disastrous opportunities, it did not need incitement to think about actively considering a third!

As for the 'demure' outfits, I had zero hope that the four girls would keep them on and not change clothes later. They had all fallen in love with the ship's disco just from the website, and had brought what they called 'club wear', and I privately called stripper outfits. Since we had first gotten on board, I had constantly low-level worried about that place, and what they might get up to there. Now, particularly in Anne and Carol's case, I was almost desperate for them to go find some studly young bucks to go be unwise with, getting their minds off me.

Mary... Yancey would probably kill me if his daughter went off and had a cruise fling on my watch. However, considering the expanse of really high quality cleavage she was flaunting here at dinner, I did not want to think about how she would dress for the disco. Whatever. She would at least be out of my sight, and my wandering eyes could behave themselves.

After dinner, Becca did not fly off with her buddies to change, but instead steered me firmly toward the Singles Meet & Greet which had reared its ugly head again that evening. Worse, she actually went in with me, dragging me in toward the bar in the middle.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. "You know I'm not going to buy you a drink when we aren't at home."

"Stand down, Guard Daddy," Becca chirped like a little girl. Then she got all serious on me. "I'm just making sure you actually get a drink so you won't run away as soon as I turn my back. You got game in you somewhere, Dad. Use it."

I dutifully bought my cocktail.

And my daughter then vanished like smoke, probably to go off and change into something slutty that she would never let me see and go dancing with all manner of...

She was twenty. Almost twenty-one. In college. She could make choices, and at some point I had to trust that her mother and I had taught her well enough to make less-disastrous ones than I was lately.

I actually gave it a try that evening. I did use to have game, right? Unfortunately, I had the yips or something, because to be blunt, nothing worked. Honestly, I never encountered anyone who made me want to give a full, much less my best, effort.

I'll admit, there were very few targets who actually appealed to me. And not because they paled in comparison to the two nubile young nymphs I had so guiltily enjoyed the prior days... though they did. Most of the single women on the cruise just did not measure up in absolute terms to what I was looking for.

When I was young, I had done well enough to be picky about who I dated. When I married, I married hot. Very hot, for all the good it had ended up doing for me. I wasn't totally shallow, though. In my younger days, I had dated several girls who were less than knockouts, but whose intelligence and humor had given them that inner light of sexiness for me.

I went in there with a very open mind about who I might like to socialize with, or more, but it was not to be. Most women there were not pushing my buttons at all. Of those that did, there were few who were genuinely single and there without a date of some kind. The few truly single ones were covered in guys like flies on shit.

I did have a nice conversation with one attractive woman, only a few years younger than me. We laughed and joked, and traded tales of our children. Hers were younger than mine, and I darkly muttered that I was jealous.

I was just about to make some kind of move... or suggestion... or something, when Francie brightened and looked past me. "There you are!" she exclaimed brightly to her friend approaching from behind me.

Great. She had an unofficial date, too. Why did people go to the singles thing when they were on the cruise with someone?

Her date was better looking than Francie was. And only a few years younger, I guessed.

Francie introduced us. She made no mention of being 'with' Leanne, but their body language made no secret of it. I'd spent half an hour chatting up a lesbian.

On the other hand, after another five minutes, I noticed that I had not been dismissed, either. My over-sexed, hyper-erotically aware brain found itself going... well... There. I let myself make a dirty joke, just to test the waters, if you will. It went over well. I perked up.

The prospect of a semi-anonymous hookup with a pair of attractive, hopefully bi-sexual lesbians was suddenly, unreasonably attractive to me.

No, really.

I mean sure, the prospect of a semi-anonymous hookup with a pair of attractive, hopefully bi-sexual lesbians is going to get any guy's motor running, but the fact that the scenario felt like it would be a return to vanilla, appropriate behavior compared to the last forty-eight hours was the unreasonable part.

Alas, after my second dirty joke, it became all too clear that Francie was, um, not bisexual. She excused them from my company shortly thereafter. I almost put my head through one of the support pillars in the room in frustration.

I had been this close. And by this close, I mean I had been in the same state as a threesome opportunity. To a guy, that counts. And I might have been in the same zip code, really. Francie might not have been interested in me as more than pleasant conversation, but I was pretty sure I had caught Leanne giving me the eye once or twice.

The rest of the evening was not auspicious.

I finally went to bed, having given it all the college tries, and tossed and turned. Somehow, despite my sexual drought having been flooded out by spectacular sex with two amazing, appallingly young women, I was more hard up that night than I had been before.

Karma is a violent, vengeful bitch.

*

The next day was our last port of call on the cruise, thank goodness. I had early on agreed to a morning shore excursion snorkeling with the full compliment of my monstrous regiment of women. At least with all four of them there, I could relax and not worry about any potential follow-up entanglements.

Unfortunately, Becca's three friends were now a mine field of potential popup boner incidents. The prior night at dinner, I had gone all Pappy McGramps and advised them that this was supposed to be an active swim, and they ought to choose suits that they wouldn't have to worry about. The next day, it became apparent that all three had interpreted my advice as, the less suit there was, the less there was to worry about. Instead of nice, stable one-pieces, I was surrounded by the briefest of their arsenal of bikinis. There were none I had not seen before, in my own backyard. Only now...

Anne and Carol, I could tell, had each come up with the idea to do it intentionally, and on their own, as they both were giving me the side eye, especially right after we all met up. Smug little wenches both knew how hot they were, and how they were now affecting me.

Mary must have taken her lead from them, or maybe she just wanted to squeeze in all the sun she could get on what was left of her vacation. In the little stringy green number she was sporting, she was going to get a sunburn just from all the guys' eyes that were checking her out. As I said, Mary has not the conventionally sexy body that her friends sport, but she has always been irresistibly cute. And now that my broken brain could not avoid it, I was realizing that her cuteness had a deep, deep layer of physical allure.

No girl that tiny should have tits that big, dammit!

The snorkeling itself was fine. When in the water, the hardest thing to see was my fellow swimmers, other than their heads when we stopped to talk with the guide while treading water. The morning would have been great fun if the reefs we were diving had not been basically devastated by tourists like us over fifty years. Or tourists before us. I think we personally did a pretty good job of leaving alone what little survived to be looked at.