A Stranger's Journal

We were in the process of moving into The Laurels. I was busy overseeing the men as they brought in the furniture when Emily our maid came to me and said, "Misses, I was just putting some stuff away in a cupboard and I found this right at the back of the top shelf."

She handed me a rather beautiful leather bound book and across the front of it in gold letters was inscribed "My Journal," with a date some ten years back.

I had a brief glance at the first entries and they seemed to be those of a young man who had recorded a cruise on board one of those floating Taj Mahals they call "Cruise Liners."

I put it into the drawer of my bedside cabinet, intending to read it later. It takes a while to settle into a large house like The Laurels and so it was not until several days later I got back to the journal.

I'd slept alone ever since my husband John had died, and so I wouldn't be interrupting anyone's sleep. I took the journal from the draw, and sitting up in bed began to read.

What I read captivated me and I spent most of the night reading.

Since my husband's death I often resort to this internet site to help me with my emotional difficulties, and so I decided I'd like to share with other users of this site some of the pleasure I gained from reading the journal.

I have changed the original names, using pseudonyms as the fancy took me.

It began with an undated preamble that I think sounds rather angry.

The Journal.

How typical of father. He always assumes that everyone will go along with his plans for them.

Tonight over dinner he announced, "Adrian, since you're finishing school in a month and a half and you've done well, I've decided you and your mother will go on a luxury cruise for a month. I've made the bookings and there are some brochures on the reading desk in the library.

I glanced across the table at mother. She gave an almost imperceptible shrug, smiled faintly, but said nothing.

"Typical," I thought, "we all do what father wants, no argument."

I was not so naïve as to think that he really wanted to reward me for doing well at my studies. He'd packed mother and me off on other occasions, but never for a month. "This one must be a top class fuck," I thought.

I often wondered why mother stayed with him and I'd even asked her. Reluctantly she said that she owed him something because he'd pulled her out of pretty poor circumstances and married her. There's quite a story there but I won't write it down now.

I took a look at the brochures and they told me just what I'd expected. "A Floating Palace" was one description; another said, "Why Wait, Experience Heaven Now!"

Again typical of father, he thought he could pay us, or anyone else, off with a bit of overcooked luxury.

Well, I suppose mum and I are stuck with it, and I can think of worse people to spend a month with.

10th December.

Came on board today. It's just as I thought it would be. Everything that passes for the "Good Life:" Luxury cabins, cinema, bars (4), cabaret entertainers, gyms (2), swimming pool and spa pools, dance floors, shops, chapel and you name it, and everywhere grinning staff waiting to do your slightest bidding. Sickening. I'd much rather mum and I were doing some hang gliding or mountain climbing.

11th December.

Arid, that's what it is. Everywhere I look there are wrinkles and crinkles. Some of them seem like dad, filthy rich, but most of them look as if they're having their first and last superannuation splash in first class, before sans eyes, sans ears, sans sex, sans brain, sans everything, that's what I'm stuck with.

I've never had sex so I'd hoped I might lose my virginity with some girl on the loose during the cruise; no chance.

I believe there are some younger people on the lower decks, but we don't go down there. I might sneak down there though and see if I can do any good for myself.

12th December.

Went with mum to the cocktail lounge for the cocktail hour; I think for most of them cocktail hour is ever hour of the day.

Had a strange experience; there was a woman sitting near us and she kept looking at me. Apart from mum she looked to be one of the youngest women around, I estimated about fifty. When I looked back at her she gave me a quirky sort of smile.

She was wearing a shirtwaister dress in multi-coloured Indian cotton with three buttons at the neck undone, and I could just see a bit of her cleavage which was made more prominent by contrast with her large breasts. I've never seen naked breasts but trying to compare hers with other's I'd seen partially revealed by bikini wearers, I thought hers to be huge.

After a while she rose and made her way towards the exit, and at the exit she turned and stood there for a full half minute looking at me, then she left.

13th December.

I had a swim in the pool today while I made up my mind whether to make my foray to the lower decks. I was sitting at the side of the pool when the woman I'd seen in the cocktail lounge came and sat beside me.

Feeling I ought to be friendly and make some conversation I said, "I saw you in the cocktail lounge yesterday."

She smiled and said, "So you remember me?"

"Yes," I replied, and trying to be affable I added, "You'd be hard to forget." Of course it was her boobs that were hard to forget but I didn't say that.

"That's a lovely thing to say," she almost cooed.

She was sitting very close to me and without making it to too obvious I tried to weigh her up.

I could smell a subtle but seductive perfume and see fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and the flesh of her neck was showing signs of sagging, but she had the sort of face that I usually associate with a cat-walk model, with its high cheek bones, long, and slightly concave nose, wide, full lips and dark eyes deeply set under strong brows.

Her long blonde hair, probably dyed, was held back by two combs, and it fell over her shoulders. I could imagine her when younger posed, mouth moistly open, hips jutting and staring at the camera with that apparently obligatory look of arrogant resentment models seem to favour.

I wondered if when younger she had been a model, but I thought that they don't go in for such big breasts in that business, so perhaps not.

After a while she stood and said, "I'm just going to have a swim, don't go away."

She was wearing a colourfully striped beach robe, and when she took it off I saw she was wearing a bikini and my idea that she had huge breasts was confirmed. They were almost spilling out of the cups, and yet they didn't look as if they would sag without the cup support; in fact it was almost as if her breasts supported the cups rather than the other way round.

Despite what I estimated to be her age, I started to get horny.

My school education had been at an exclusive boys' boarding school and I remembered what the guys had said about older women. They'd come back after the holidays boasting about their sexual conquests; this included endless screwing with cousins, sisters, mothers, and in one case a grandmother.

I didn't believe most of these tales, but in the case of the grandmother it was possible because it was Wanker Price who told that story.

In the dormitory our beds were divided off by thin screens and Wanker made no secret of his nightly masturbation. He'd yell out, "I've shot my load five times and I'm trying for a sixth."

He claimed he'd surpassed himself with his grandmother, "I came into her eight times in one night."

The woman came out of the pool and her bikini was made of the sort of material that becomes semi-transparent when it's wet. I could see her nipples though the cloth of the cups, and that got me even hornier.

When she'd dried herself she put on her robe and sat beside me.

"We'd better introduce ourselves," she said. "I'm Angela Stern."

"Adrian Sturt," I replied.

We shook hands and she held on to mine for a bit longer than a normal handshake requires.

"Who was that lovely lady I saw you with in the cocktail lounge?" she asked.

"My mother."

"You're mother! I thought she might be your older sister or even..."

She didn't complete the sentence as her voice trailed away. For some reason she looked rather pleased.

"It must be rather boring for you being among so many older people," she said quietly.

I laughed and managed a bit of flattery.

"Everybody's not old, there's you."

"What a lovely young man you are," she said, "how old do you think I am."

I hate that question, but I suppose I'd brought it on myself. I played it as safe as I could and said, "Oh, I'd say about thirty nine or forty."

She laughed lightly and laying her hand on my thigh she said, "I think you're trying to flatter me."

I began to protest but she interrupted; "Now I don't usually tell people my age, but as you're so sweet I'll let you into the secret; I'm fifty three."

That was roughly what I'd estimated, but I put in my protest, "No, you're kidding me," etc.

"Well, if you come to my cabin I can show you my driver's license and a few other things," she said.

I was just about to agree when mum came looking for me.

"It's time for lunch darling."

This afternoon I played a few desultory games of quoits with mum. I don't think she's having a good time either. Pity there's not a few young guys around to keep her entertained.

I saw Angela in the cocktail lounge later, but we didn't speak.

14th December.

Had breakfast with mum; mountains of food and by the look of it a lot gets chucked away.

We decided we'd take a spa bath. There are a couple of big ones that hold about six people and several smaller ones that hold about two. The big ones were occupied by some ancient of days trying to pretend they're teenagers. Mum and I got into one of the smaller ones.

Its strange how you don't take an inventory of your mother, but I suppose inspired by Angela I took a careful look at mum.

She was a very different type from Angela. She has something doll-like about her, with an almost round head poised on a long delicate neck, a snub nose, a small mouth with a full upper lip beautifully curved, and her dark hair is well groomed and worn like a helmet. One of her most attractive features is her slanting violet eyes.

Like Angela she was wearing a bikini -- a red one I hadn't seen before - and the top hinted at her up-pointed nipples and upturned breasts. Her breasts were nowhere near as large as Angela's, but I thought no less seductive.

I actually started to get horny over her and I got out of the spa and started to dry myself.

I was just putting on my robe when mum got out and Angela appeared. Angela was wearing another robe, a green silk one, and she looked as if she'd come to take a spa bath, but she stopped to speak with us. I introduced mum and the two of them started to chat. It ended up with us having morning tea together and the two women went on talking.

Mum didn't say a great deal but Angela gave out personal information like a leaky pipe.

I just listened and gathered that Angela had been twice widowed; first by some old rich guy who breathed his last about three years into the marriage, and then by some younger guy called Carlos. He'd got killed driving a sports car Angela had bought him, crashing it through a barrier on a mountain road in Italy.

I decided that I'd had enough of women's talk and so excusing myself I left them to yak on.

For a while I stood at the ships rail; we were due to arrive at an island the next day but now there was nothing in sight except sea and more sea. I wandered into one of the gyms where a lot of oldies were gasping and panting as they walked, pedaled and tugged on exercise machines. I rode one of those stationary bicycle things for about half and hour and then went in search of mother.

I found her still talking with Angela, their heads very close together. As they saw me approaching they sat back, staring at me, and then mother stood and said, "Well, I'd better leave you two." She gave me a strange look and left.

I was about to sit in the seat mother had vacated when Angela stood and said, "Well, shall we go to my cabin so you can examine my credentials?"

"Credentials?"

"Proof of age darling...proof of age."

I started to protest that there was no need, but Angela, taking my hand said, "But I insist."

I shrugged and said, "Well, if it's so important to you," and so off we went.

What Angela had called a "cabin" more nearly resembled a state room. I thought it must have been costing her a fortune; one of her husbands, probably not Carlos, must have been stinking rich.

It was luxuriously furnished and I got a strange feeling that it had been designed with seduction in mind, with its softly curved furnishing, evocative of the female, and the contrasting understated décor.

There was a large red upholstered divan on which I could imagine warm, wet wrestlings taking place, like those described by some of the boys at school.

Angela disappeared into what I took to be a bedroom, to reappear a few seconds later carrying her driver's license and passport.

She handed them to me saying, "Proof positive."

I only glanced at them because I knew what they would tell me, she was fifty three.

I made some silly protest about them having her birth date wrong and she came to me and saying, "You're very sweet," she slipped her hand inside my robe and began to stoke my chest with her hand.

"I think you deserve a reward for being so nice," she said, and kissed me on the lips.

I was already half way to a full erection -- she had that effect on me -- and now it became full blown.

She undid the sash that held my robe together saying, "Why don't we take out robes off and be comfortable?"

She didn't wait for my reply and took off my robe and let it drop to the floor.

I could see her eyes glittering between narrowed lids; they looked both appraising and raptorial.

She stepped back and took off her own robe, letting it join mine on the floor.

I stood stupefied; she was wearing only a thong and minuscule bra that barely covered her nipples.

She pressed close to me. I could feel her huge breasts against my chest. She kissed me again, running her tongue over my lips.

In a low pulsating voice she said, "Your mother says you've never been with a woman, is she right?"

"Yer-yes," I stammered.

"We think it's time you were."

She was slowly easing me backward to the divan. When the back of my legs touched the divan I toppled backwards onto it.

She joined me, bending over me, kissing me and swirling her lips and tongue over my mouth.

"You're coming with me to paradise today," she murmured, and I opened my mouth to say something but her mouth closed over mine and her tongue thrust into it. I felt it slowly exploring as she drew one of my hands to her breasts, pressing my fingers over one of the warm yielding hillocks.

Ending the kiss she said, "Paradise now darling, heaven on earth."

She moved slightly so that my face was against one of her breasts, and she rubbed a firm pink nipple teasingly over my lips saying, "It's good for sucking darling, so why don't you suckle me?"

I took the nipple into my mouth and tasted her, and as I did I felt her hand push under the waist band of the briefs I had worn for the spa. She took my penis into her hand and I heard her gasp.

She ran her hand along my length for a few moments and then said, "Darling, I didn't realise, you're so...oh my God, you're so big."

She removed her nipple from my mouth and kneeling in front of me she took off my briefs and stayed there staring at my penis and slowly stroking my foreskin over its head.

"I've never had...seen one as...big...so big...oh darling we're going to enjoy each other so much."

I was lying with part of my body on the divan but with my feet on the floor. Angela rose and sat across me, and I watched fascinated as she lowered her vagina onto my penis.

I saw it slowly sink into her and felt the first touch of paradise -- the wet heat, the silky smoothness of her throbbing sheath, rhythmically gripping and releasing my manhood.

Perhaps the cruise publicity was not so far from the truth: "Why Wait, Experience Heaven Now!"

She moved on me slowly at first as if trying to get my penis to stimulate different parts of her sex organ but soon began long strokes that nearly caused my penis to exit her, and then plunge down deep inside her.

She started to make little squealing sounds, "Eee....eee...ah...eee..." that gradually increased in volume as she cried out, "Coming...it's coming...oh no...no...ah...ohwa...ohwa...come....come with me...come...eeeowah..."

I shot my sperm into her and she wailed, "You beast...you beast...you beautiful beast," as she thrust down hard on me as if to get my sperm in as deeply as possible.

For a few moments we became frantic as I groaned and she screamed and wept.

Slowly the world around us changed from heaven back to reality, but a reality of peace and contentment.

She stayed sitting on my penis for some time, her eyes closed and her tongue flickering over her lips.

When finally her eyes opened she removed herself from my penis; I moved back to lie stretched out on the divan, and she came to lie beside me on her back. I moved to lie on my side, and reached out to touch and fondle her breasts. Even with both hands round one of her breasts they could not fully encompass it, I leaned over her to suckle her nipples again.

Nothing in my imaginings, nothing the boys at school had said, had prepared me for the wonder of a woman's body, and above all the penetration of her vagina.

As I got my second erection Angela encouraged me to come on top of her and she guided my length into her. I knew instinctively what to do but we both took a longer time to come.

When we'd finished she said, "Darling, it's getting near time to dress for dinner, I think you should go now and join your mother, I mustn't be selfish." I thought that was an odd way of putting it and I protested that I didn't want to leave her.

"I know darling," she said, stroking my cheek, "but I think you should." She laughed lightly and went on, "Suppose you come here tomorrow morning and I'll show you how we can feed each other. Now kiss me and go to your mother."

I left her unwillingly and made my way to my cabin. I wasn't sure that I wanted to see mother, because if, as I was beginning to suspect, she'd colluded with Angela to bring about my initiation, then obviously she'd know what I'd been doing, and for some silly reason I felt embarrassed about that.

I showered and dressed for dinner. Mother came into my cabin in a long black evening dress with silver trimmings. It was strapless and exposed most of her back. Split on one side it revealed most of her left leg to the top of her thigh. The top of the dress plunged down in a vee between her breasts that were clearly unsupported.

She looked lovely and I told her so. I remembered getting horny over her in the spa that morning, and to escort her into dinner almost made up for the temporary discontinuation with Angela.

We saw Angela at dinner, but she was sitting at another table. She just waved and smiled.

15th December.

Today after breakfast I went straight to Angela's cabin (state room). Mother didn't even ask me where I was going so I suppose she knew.

The cruise that had promised to be boring had suddenly taken on a whole new aspect as far as I was concerned.

Angela was waiting of me. She was wearing what I believe is called a peignoir. It was flame red and made of sheer lace. I'd seen mother wearing such a garment many times, but hers were usually black or white.

Angela's garment hid nothing. I could see her breasts and the little trace of pubic hair that ran down from her mons to just where her cleft started.