More Cruisin' Boozin' and Susan

(Readers: Thank you, thank you, THANK you!!!! for your amazing response to the first part of this work. Your views, comments and feedback are much appreciated. You've been the inspiration to continue this little story between two people who find themselves shipmates on a Caribbean cruise. I'm continuing to make Phil's experience on board as accurate as I can recall. Reading Part 1 isn't a requirement, but if you'd like to, you can find it here:)

Part 1 --

https://www.literotica.com/s/cruisin-boozin-and-susan

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I wake up first.

The soft light of sunrise is just beginning to brighten the sheer curtains covering the sliding balcony door. I don't recall closing them so I assume Susan did.

I slip out of bed as softly as I can and head to Susan's bathroom.

I pee, then locate and swirl a little of her toothpaste in my mouth. I return to find Susan laying on her stomach on the right side of the bed.

Her eyes open as I come back into the stateroom. I'm naked and Susan smiles a sexy, droopy smile at me.

"Good morning," I say softly as I move around the foot of the bed to the open side.

"Mmmmm... it IS a good morning, isn't it?" Susan coos as she stretches and rolls over onto her back and then continues to roll onto her right side.

Perhaps it's because of the stretch, but the bedding we slept under now only covers about the middle of Susan's back. Her left boob is beautifully exposed.

And I can't help but shift my eyes to take in the view.

I sleep naked on the regular. It's a little thrilling to think that Susan does too, or at least will once in a while.

"After such a wonderful day," Susan continues, "and such a fabulous night, how could this morning be any better?"

I've gotten to the open side of the bed. Rather than getting back under the covers, I sit side-saddle facing the head of the bed with this gorgeous goddess naked within it.

I lean down to give Susan a good-morning kiss. She raises her torso up and tilts her head to meet my lips. It's a soft kiss, and I let it rest for five or six seconds.

"I think we both probably have some pretty exciting ideas about how we could make it better," I say softly after the kiss breaks.

"But first, I need some coffee."

Susan's soft smile turns into a pout as she exaggeratedly pushes her lower lip forward. She allows her right cheek to drop back down to the bed. And her eyes close.

"There, there," I scold quietly, "no boo-boo lips."

Eyes still closed, Susan emits a soft laugh through her nose and her lips revert to a cute smile.

"That's what my Granny used to call it," Susan says softly.

I bend down and kiss Susan lightly on her head just in front of her ear.

"Can I bring you something?" I ask quietly. I'm standing now and trying to locate my clothes from last night.

"Mmmm, coffee?... that'd be nice," Susan replies sleepily.

"How do you like it?" I ask, as I step into my briefs.

"I like it black," Susan answers.

"Like you like your men?" I ask quietly.

Susan's eyes pop open and look to mine, only to find me wearing a Cheshire smile as I put on my shirt.

She gets the joke. As she raises herself out of the bed, Susan fake-scolds me:

"If we're going to duel with movie quotes from 'Airplane,'" she cautions as she pivots her feet to the floor, "it's gonna be a long day."

"Roger, over," I reply. Susan doesn't say "Huh?"

Instead, Susan is sitting on the open side of the bed, facing me. Her hair is sexily tousled and her hands are slightly behind her, pressing her boobs forward on her chest a little.

I'm putting on my slacks and it's a struggle not to ogle the vision before me.

Susan stops me. "Phil, wait. Come here," she beckons.

I comply, and take the couple of steps toward this incredibly beautiful -- and naked -- woman. I stop with my knees nearly touching hers. I'm holding my pants up with a hand on each side.

Susan's gaze has followed my approach and she's now sitting centered on her ass. She drops her eyes and they move to the waistband of my briefs. Her fingers follow.

"When you come back," Susan purrs as she pulls the elastic forward as far as it will go. Then her eyes trail up my body to meet mine.

"You'd better not be wearing these." She releases her fingers and the elastic snaps back into place.

I laugh softly as I fasten my pants, buckle my belt, and slip on my huarches.

I step toward the door to Susan's stateroom.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I whisper.

Susan's stateroom door closes behind me.

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I don't go to the coffee stand right away. Probably because I look like hell.

I fish out my Sea Pass card and activate the electronic lock to my room just on the other side of the bulkhead in the hallway.

My stateroom door closes behind me and I glance at the mirror just inside. Yes, I look like hell. Maybe even more like hammered shit.

I strip out of my clothes and step into my bathroom for a quick shower.

I don't know about the rest of you, but there are activities in my life that often leave a lingering scent that seemingly comes back to life the next time I step under the warm water of a shower.

Smoke from a wood fire. Gunpowder or whatever they use in fireworks. The pungent tinge of freshly-mown grass.

This morning, as the warm water hits me, I'm suddenly immersed with a wet, wonderful aroma of a sexually-aroused woman. The aroma of Susan from last night.

It's almost an out-of-body experience; an instant replay of the remarkable fuck session I had just a few hours ago with the vixen who's cruising the Caribbean right next door to me. It surprises me, and I'm instantly wishing that I could preserve it... that I don't want to wash it away.

I trace my fingers softly under my nose and inhale deeply. Yes. I can still smell her.

And my cock stiffens a little in response.

But I have to get clean. And Susan is waiting.

I shower, dry my hair, and brush my teeth. I shaved before meeting Susan for Sail-Away yesterday afternoon; we both can live with a little stubble this morning.

I select a swim suit and matching T-shirt my youngest daughter, Mandy, gave me as a bon voyage gift. It's Tommy Bahama so I know it was over-priced, but hopefully I'll look presentable wearing it. I put my huaraches back on.

Thankfully, it's still somewhat early on a Sea Day and many of the passengers are taking an opportunity to sleep in this morning.

There is, as I understand, a normal early crush at the elevator banks of people trying to get to the pool decks before the rush and set their towels and fol-de-rol on deck chairs to reserve them. But all those people are going up.

My elevator, going down, "bings" pretty quickly and I'm in the car by myself.

Now I'm standing at Susan's stateroom door with two steaming Starbucks cups and a couple of pastries in one of those crappy cardboard holders.

I knock softly twice, then once, on Susan's door.

"Room service," I call out somewhat quietly in what I hope is a passible Caribbean accent.

I see the light in the peep-hole diminish and then, a second later, the door opens, barely.

One of Susan's pretty eyes peeks out the gap in the door.

"You must have the wrong room," she says curtly. "I'm waiting for someone else."

And the door swiftly closes.

One of the oldest jokes in the book. I'll bet Cleopatra played that game on Marc Antony. Like, probably... once. Maybe.

The light coming out of the peep-hole stays diminished. And only a few seconds pass before Susan opens the door again. She gives me a sheepish, little-girl grin.

"I'mmmm sorrrrry," she coos with exaggerated enthusiasm.

She holds the door open and I step through to set the coffees down on the long bureau to the left of the door.

I turn back as the door swings closed.

And Susan is -- again -- a fucking vision.

She, too, has spent a few minutes "getting herself presentable" as my late wife, Amanda, used to say. And, in Susan's case, "presentable" is a fucking understatement.

Susan is wearing the white crocheted swim cover-up that she wore while The Oasis was leaving port yesterday. And nothing else.

She's bare-footed. Bare-assed. Bare-breasted. And I'm barely able... no, I'm UN-able... to keep my jaw from dropping open as I take in this vision of Susan.

Susan gives me a delightfully wry little smile.

"What?" she coos softly, hands on her hips, as she wriggles her incredible body before me,

"... not enough??

"... Too much???"

And Susan stands there, awaiting my response.

For some reason, some sort of unusual power -- (well, unusual for me, anyway) -- rises up in me. I reset my jaw and drill my eyes into Susan's.

I command with a growl: "Come to me."

Susan's eyes close and a soft exhale runs through her throat and nose, like she's been struck by her own sexual lightning.

Then her eyes re-open and she slowly but determinedly takes the two or three steps to close the space between us.

The kiss that follows is the hottest kiss I've ever experienced in my life. At least so far.

Susan's arms wrap around my neck as our lips and mouths go into a full-bore attack of the other's. My arms wrap around Susan's waist and pull her whole body hard into mine.

Our hands roam over backs, arms, shoulders... through each other's hair... and then return to places they've just been.

It's like long-lost lovers reuniting after weeks... months... apart. Instead of two all-but strangers saying "hey" after only knowing each other for a few amazingly sexy hours.

The significance doesn't seem to be lost on either one of us.

The kiss breaks somewhat simultaneously and Susan and I pant into each other's faces, forehead-to-forehead, like we're both trying to figure out what the hell is going on here.

And then the kiss starts again. This time, we both want to move.

Susan literally leaps upward into my arms. I catch her legs with my forearms and pull her closely to my body. In this position, her kiss angle changes a little; she's in something of a dominant position and her tongue lets me know it.

Susan is a petite little thing, but I know I'm not going to hold her like this for long. And I don't want to.

Between the bed and the balcony is a long sofa that runs along the wall. The round coffee table that the champagne from last night sits on is in front of it.

While Susan assails my mouth with her tongue, I navigate with a little bit of clumsy to the sofa. It's only a few steps and I feel my knees hit the fabric.

I bend over and, sensing my intention, Susan increases her grip around her neck. Between the two of us, I'm able to lower Susan gently to the surface of the sofa.

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At the jazz club last night, Susan told me that she sometimes wants to be controlled by her lover.

For most of the twenty-nine years of my first marriage, my late wife, Amanda, was in control of my sex life.

Not so much in what we did (because there was scant variety in our sex; we almost always did the exact same thing), but when we would do it.

I could try to talk her into it. I could do more things around the house that I thought would get her into a different lane about it. I could whine about it. I could yell about it.

It all just reinforced how little power I had in the matter. Amanda was in control. Case closed.

All that to say, I haven't had a great deal of practice in being dominate during sex.

But somehow I get the feeling that there might be quite a few things, where sex with Susan is concerned, that I haven't had a lot of practice with.

Might as well dive in.

I'm standing above Susan as she lays on the sofa. I look directly in her eyes.

"Susan," I begin, "you look incredibly sexy in that swim cover. Especially since you're naked underneath it."

Susan matches my gaze but doesn't reply.

"Now," I continue softly but directly,

"... take it off."

Susan doesn't break my gaze.

After a long beat she adjusts her legs to push her butt up from the sofa while her hands gather the fabric from her thighs.

She pulls the cover-up above her ass and lowers herself back to the surface of the couch.

Then, still engaging my gaze, Susan sits up and pulls the garment up over her boobs and over her head.

She slips her arms out of the sleeves and casually drops the swim cover on the floor near her shoulders.

She lays back down on the sofa in her original position.

Her eyes have never left me.

While Susan is stripping, so am I.

My T-shirt also ends up on the floor, followed by my swim trunks.

Susan's eyes glance to my stiffening cock, then return to my stare.

I take a few seconds to survey Susan's incredible body in the morning light. She's naked. I'm naked. And another surge of power rumbles within me.

I lock my gaze to Susan's eyes, which are re-locked on mine. There is a delightful twinkle of expectation in hers, accented by the tiniest twitch of a smile on her lips.

The look tells me Susan doesn't hate this game. And she's ready to play it.

"Spread your legs," I command.

Susan's eyes stay locked on mine. And slowly -- verrrry slowly -- Susan spreads her legs as far as the sofa will allow.

Her left leg rests first against the back cushion of the sofa.

Her right leg continues to move outward and extend beyond the edge of the sofa. To show me more of her twat, Susan lowers her foot to rest on the floor.

Susan punctuates the move with a wicked little grin.

I step to the sofa and drop to my knees so my shoulders are in line with Susan's hips.

I turn my attention to Susan's mound, just above her clitoris. She has a tiny patch of short hair that has clearly been carefully groomed.

I trace the tips of my fingers over the hairs. Susan's legs actually twitch at the softness of my fingers' graze. I might even see the hairs stand up a little. I wonder if she's had another jolt of sexual lightning.

Next, I lower my face to get closer to Susan's womanhood. I take in a long inhale, not really for any particular effect on her, but just because I like the smell of an aroused partner.

Susan doesn't disappoint. She's musky. She's moist. She's as intoxicating this morning as she was last night.

My cock swells even more.

I raise my head to see that Susan's eyes are following my every move.

"I meant to tell you before," I whisper into Susan's eyes. "I think your pussy is beautiful."

Susan smiles down across her spectacular body at me.

"Well...thank you, I guess," she replies. Then:

"It's understandable you couldn't tell me. I kept you kind of busy down there."

I remember a sexual zinger Susan said to me last night, and I repeat it to her this morning.

"Just... wait," I whisper.

Susan's legs actually lurch with this lightning strike. Her eyes close and her head drops back to the surface of the sofa.

"Oh, fuck...." she murmurs. "Ohhhh, fuuuccckk...."

But I don't just want to eat Susan out again this morning. I want to fuck her.

I want to fuck her in a way I've never fucked anyone... ever before.

This new and unusual sense of power I've felt since meeting Susan, again, thrums within me. And I take advantage of it.

I put my left hand under Susan's right knee, the leg that's resting on the floor. And I push that knee upward towards the ceiling.

When Susan's knee reaches its apex my hand slides up her right calf to her right ankle and I pull her now-extended leg outward. This opens Susan's crotch to just about as wide as it can go. And that is where I put my mouth.

My first pass is a long, rough, rugged slather of Susan's whole vulva with my tongue. She reacts instantly:

"OH!!! Phil!!... jeezus!!"

Then, with the surprise behind her, "Mmmmmmmm...."

My mouth stays engaged and my tongue continues to slather Susan's outer and inner lips. I taste her juices immediately.

Susan's beautiful cunt has been percolating during the whole ramp up to this very minute... maybe since she dressed -- sort of -- for my return with the coffee.

Now, she's ready for more.

I pull my head away and, still holding Susan's leg aloft, I rise to my feet.

My left hand is holding Susan's ankle. With my right, I aim my raging cock toward her love tunnel. I adjust my knees a little to get the angle right, then I flex my hips to move my cock forward to Susan's waiting and wanting pussy.

With the initial push, Susan's love hole takes the head of my cock and a little more. A second push results in another inch inside her. With a third push, still another inch disappears.

Susan inhales quickly and loudly, followed by "Yess!! God!! OHHhhhhhh..."

I look into my lover's face and her eyes meet mine. They're wild and excited. Then Susan raises her head to see what she can of my cock burrowing into her love tunnel.

I keep pumping and more and more of my cock slides inside Susan's wanton pussy. Her eyes return to mine and half-roll backwards towards the ceiling.

"UURRmmmmm..." she moans.

I move Susan's elevated leg to my shoulder. With my left hand now free I position both hands to support my weight and I begin to push more forcefully into Susan's cunt.

With every stroke, Susan's pussy juice coats my cock. The tightness of her pussy becomes more apparent the slicker my cock becomes. A small ring of white grool appears around her inner lips gripping my throbbing member.

Susan's voice begins to mimic the timing of my thrusts.

"Ohhh... Mmmm... Yesss... Urmmm..."

Buried now inside Susan to the hilt of my cock, I stop and grind my pelvis into hers, rubbing against her clit.

"Oh fuck, Phil," Susan moans through panting breath. "You make me feel so...

"... I love how your cock muh...moves... in and out... of... me..."

I resume slowly pistoning into Susan's pussy. I open my eyes to see her boobs bouncing in rhythm to my thrusts into her. Her nipples are erect and a deep pink color.

Another couple of thrusts and Susan opens her eyes to smile at me. Then she gives a little laugh through her panting breaths and moans.

Using my arms for leverage, Susan pulls herself up toward me. She engages my mouth in a wild, almost rabid kiss.

"Mmfff...Mmfff... Oh, shit... Mmfff," Susan moans into the kiss.

I think we're both getting tired in this position. I pause my thrusting and retrieve Susan's right ankle from my shoulder. I allow her right leg to drop in front of me and down until it rests against her left leg. This twists Susan's hips to the left a little, while my cock is still lodged within her dripping love hole.

I put my right knee of the surface of the sofa, and resume my pumping into Susan's pussy.

The change in the position of Susan's legs does two things: 1) It tightens the entrance to her pussy, which feels great to me, and 2) It rotates the position of my pulsing meat pole within Susan's cunt by something shy of ninety degrees. Different nerves are getting different stimulation deep with Susan. And, as a result, she begins to react right away.

Susan's right hand flies onto the back of my left thigh.

"Oh, jeezus, Phil!!" she cries. Then: "Oooooohhhhhh.... Mmmmmmmm.... UUuurrrhhhmmmm..."

The change has put an immediate tingle deep in my groin. So I keep pumping.

Susan's cries resume mimicking the rhythm of my thrusts into her pussy. She turns her face into one of the couch pillows so she can muffle the rising volume of her voice.

"OHHhhhhh, don't... Just... Just... Keep... Yessss, right... UUuurrrrrrmmmmmmmm..."

My orgasm is coming, and it's not going to stop. And I don't want to stop it.

I give this amazing lover one more command.

"Susan," I growl. "Cum for me.

"Cum WITH me..."

I thrust two or three more times until my orgasm forces me to slam deep into Susan and stay there. At the same time Susan's orgasm takes control of her. Her right arm grips my thigh even tighter. Her left arm flies to the top of the sofa and grips the back of it, hard.