My name is Lars Bach. I'm forty-six years old and for the past two months I been fuckin a pussy that I had to wait twenty years to get, but it was worth the wait. That pussy belongs to Kirsten Jensen who works on my ship. She's two years older than me and married to a good friend of mine Stein Jensen. I tried to fuck her when she was young, but she wouldn't fuck till she got real horny in her late forties.
I've been working on cruise ships since I finished college and I'm second in command of a really nice ship on the Seabourn line. I cruise for three months and spend the next three months with my wife Gro at our home in Bergen.
Kirsten is also fuckin a young stud - a twenty-four year old Lieutenant and lately she's been fuckin some of his buddies too. She kept that pussy private for twenty years but now it looks like she's taking it public. She's having a lot of fun with these young studs but she got scared when they started talking about wanting to watch a black guy do her. She asked for my help. I'm helping her and so is my new girlfriend, Joan.
I met Joan on the last cruise. She's a damn good fuck, and when I shared her with a black steward Roger, I discovered that she likes black on white as much as I do. So Joan is helping Kirsten learn about black guys so she can deal with those young studs that want to watch a black dude do her. And after a couple of lessons, Joan says all Kirsten needs is practice. Joan was having so much fun she's not getting off in Miami. She's staying on for another cruise.
Today is the last day of this cruise. We're in Miami where we'll turn around and go out on another cruise for two weeks. Unloading and loading passengers and refueling and loading supplies in just a few hours is always a lot of work. So I have a big day ahead.
And, as if I didn't have enough to do turning the ship around in Miami, I get a message to see the Captain as soon as I'm free. I told Commander Ward to take over supervising the refueling and headed off to see the Captain.
"We have a problem," the Captain said as I entered his office. "And I'm gonna dump it in your lap."
I laughed. "So what else is new?"
"I'm sorry Lars. I really am, but there's a lot at stake here. Have a seat and I'll explain."
I sat down in a comfortable leather chair across from his desk. The Captain and I are very good friends and he has a lot of confidence in my work. He pulled a file from his desk drawer, removed a picture from it, and handed it to me.
It was a distinguished, gray haired lady, elegantly dressed, posing in front of a sign reading "Seabourn Cruise Lines." At the bottom of the picture there was a label reading "Miss Sheila Nunn, Chief Financial Officer."
"You're looking at a picture of the biggest bitch in our company," the Captain said. "She's just informed me that she will be joining us on this cruise. She didn't ask, she didn't schedule, she just called an hour ago and told me to get her accommodations ready. She's on her way. I'm putting her in the Seabourn Suite."
I chuckled at how upset the Captain was. "So she's a bitch. So what's the big deal? We've had important corporate people on board before and no sweat."
"The big deal is that sometimes ship's officers have lost their jobs because they pissed her off! I've met her and she's a real bitch! She's always unhappy about something. If it's not the food then it's the service or the way her drink is mixed – always something!"
"Well," I said, "all we can do is our best. We'll just try harder!"
"I have no idea why she picked MY ship," the Captain said obviously agitated.
"Maybe she liked the sound of the name," I said laughing. "Women are like that."
"It's not funny, dammit! She's not some flighty female. She's sixty-five years old. She handles the corporate money and the CEO and the board all respect her because she's tough. I want you to transfer all your duties to Commander Ward and look after her personally. Is that clear? Anything she wants she gets!"
"Yes sir, very clear. I'll do my best sir," I said, realizing how serious, even frightened, the Captain was.
My first job was to inspect the Seabourn suite. Our hotel crew always did an excellent job but if this bitch was picky I'd better check out every detail myself. I called Kirsten to alert her. As head of Passenger Relations she would be at the top of the hit list if Miss Nunn was unhappy.
Kirsten met me at the Seabourn suite and we checked it out together. It was spotless. We ordered it stocked with our top wines, cordials, and liquors. Then we alerted the hotel manager and he passed the word down the line to his people.
"We're as ready as we can ever be for the Nun," said Kirsten laughing.
"Dammit Kirsten don't call her that," I said. "Other people will hear you and start calling her that and then she'll hear somebody say it and all hell will break loose. Always call her Miss Nunn!"
Kirsten laughed. "Sorry baby. I feel bad that you're the one who has to wine and dine the bitch but as they say 'Rank hath its privileges.'"
"It's not funny," I said and my phone buzzed in my pocket as I said it.
Kirsten heard it and said, "Your lady must have arrived."
She was here! I hurried to his office and the Captain introduced me to Miss Sheila Nunn. I had the distinct impression that he dumped her in my lap as quickly as possible. Silver grey hair, expensive designer dress, excellent figure, she stood there not smiling with a demanding look on her face.
I escorted her, and the three men carrying her luggage, to her suite and stood by silently as she inspected every inch of it in minute detail. Kirsten and I had not wasted the hour we spent checking it out ourselves.
Finally, Miss Nunn looked in the liquor cabinet and shook her head in disgust.
"I drink Aberfeldy," she said.
I immediately called Commander Ward and told him to send an officer ashore to buy a case and the older the better, wondering where the hell will he find a pricy single malt at the port of Miami. That was his problem, not mine. The Nun had heard me give the order. I caught myself thinking "NUN" and quickly made a resolution never even to think the Nun word again.
I said apologetically, "Aberfeldy is not on our regular list of high end Scotch whiskies. However, we do have Balvenie."
"Don't say Scotch whiskies, they're single malts!" She said arrogantly
"Yes mam."
"Aberfeldy should be on your list," said the Nun. "Seabourn is top of the line – no better cruise ships afloat. And Aberfeldy has a honey taste that you don't get with Balvenie"
I offered her a Macallan 12 neat and she tasted it. "It will do, I guess."
There was no other way to say it! The Nun was a bitch!
I picked up the Knob Creek.
"May I?" I asked
"Of course," she said.
But her tone of voice seemed to indicate that she viewed me as a waiter. I was a four striper, entitled to be called "Captain," even though I was not THE Captain of the ship. And she was treating me like a waiter. The bitch!
She was pissing me off! That was nothing special. According to the Captain she pissed everybody off. She sat there arrogantly looking like a queen with her exquisitely coiffured silver gray hair. She seemed to look down her nose at the world.
I looked her over as we sipped our drinks. Her figure was not bad for a sixty-five year old broad – nice tits although she dressed to minimize their size, narrow waist and good hips. But her legs were her best feature – far more shapely than I would expect for her age.
She knew her legs were good, I thought, because she's wearing three-inch heels like a much younger woman. However, she has on dark hose! I'll bet you can see some blue veins in those legs when she's naked.
Jesus! Naked? What put that thought into my head? My mind immediately flashed back to Roger, a black steward from Barbados, telling me about older ladies who tipped him big for "special service," and then that word picture he had painted flashed into my head in vivid color.
Roger had said, "It's really something to climb in the saddle and look down at a horny gray haired old lady buck naked, spreading her legs and pumping her ass."
It was impossible to avoid thinking about the Nun in exactly that position. I tried not to smile.
She was saying something and my musings almost made me miss it.
"... and when I read the senator's letter I was impressed."
Shit! What did she say? The senator's letter? What the hell did that mean? Oh shit! It's gotta be Senator Walter Barnes. He said he was gonna write a letter of recommendation for me to the company. He was big – a letter from him would have gotten to top management.
"Senator Walter Barnes?" I said haltingly.
"Yes," the Nun smiled. "You met his wife Caryl, I believe."
"Yes mam, I ... I met her."
Met her? I thought. Hell! I fucked her for the better part of a week. That was the Nun's first smile. Oh shit where is this going?
"After I read the Senator's letter, I called Caryl. We have been close friends for years. She told me that you showed her a really wonderful time when she was on board," said the Nun, again smiling.
Oh shit! I think I know where this is going.
"That's why I decided to take this particular ship. So you could show me as good a time as you showed Caryl."
The Nun was still smiling. She hadn't smiled since she got on the ship. Yeah, maybe I can be SURE where this is going.
I sat there wondering whether the Nun was gonna want to fuck, like Caryl. And if she did how the hell do I bring up the subject. I remembered Roger's comment about horny gray-haired ladies. My mind was racing. Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the Nun's loud voice.
"You're not listening to me," she said angrily.
"I'm sorry Miss Nunn. I ... I ... I was thinking."
"What about?" There was anger in her voice and a frown on her face
"About ... about ... well, I was remembering Caryl."
A big, broad smile lit up her face. "When I tell Caryl that you remembered her like that, she'll be so happy. She'll be happy to realize that she left you feeling so good about her. Now Captain we need to talk frankly. Caryl said you were very discrete."
Here it comes I thought. I'm gonna find out if she wants to fuck. And if she wants to fuck I'm gonna have to fuck her – gray hair, blue veined thighs, wrinkles and all!
"Senator Barnes, you know, has to be very discrete. One mistake and his reputation could be destroyed. The National Inquirer loves to expose people like him. He pays a very high price for his discretion – Caryl said she told you that."