A Tale of Ten Men

Divorce was the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, it would be, when I actually handed Marcus the divorce papers. But at this point I was sure. I guess he expected it too, when I told him I quit my job and booked a three month cruise to the Bahamas. What can I say? I knew what I needed. I heard a saying once that stuck with me. "If it won't matter in five years, don't bother staying mad about it for more than five minutes." I'd had my five minute of anger about Marcus' affair. I'm sure every neighbor we had would be talking about the screaming match for weeks. But now I was moving on to bigger and better things. By which I mean, bigger and better cocks. The whole point of my three month cruise was to sleep with at least ten different men while I was on the ship, one for each year of marriage to my worthless husband. I stared into the mirror, applying a lipstick as red as my desire, as red as revenge. Ten men wouldn't be difficult at all.

After handing over my passport and arriving in my room to find my luggage neatly stacked in the corner, I decided to get naked. Why not? This was my fucking cruise. I stripped off the messy comfortable clothes I'd worn on my flight hours earlier and lay back, nude and glorious, on the bed that would be my home for the next three months. The duvet caressed my bare nipples, bringing them to soft, ready points. This bed would be host to all sorts of fun, I predicted.

I'd paid extra for room with a balcony. I turned so that my ass pointed straight up and I could see the tall glass doors that led to the balcony. The view was glorious. Miles and miles of sea, with nothing there to hold me back. Miles and miles of separation from that cheating bastard I'd given my life to. Not anymore. My life belonged to me.

I decided to take another chance, and head out onto the glorious balcony. Totally naked. I wasn't sure if the other cruise-goers who had shelled out the extra cash for balcony rooms would be able to see me, but the risk seemed strangely erotic. Maybe one of them would be one of the lucky ten to join me in this room for some delicious revenge fucking.

The wind on the balcony was heavenly against my bare skin. As the wind caressed me, I caressed myself, my fingertips leaving sensuous trails across my tight stomach, small firm breasts, and dark hard nipples. I traced the curve of my large lips, and licked my finger slowly. As a child, I had hated those lips, hated how they marked me as a mixed breed, neither white nor black, belonging nowhere, Now I relished them, imagined a fat cock shoved between them begging for the release my body could bring. I stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, feeling the wetness between my thighs as I walked. I needed to fuck someone. Now. Right here on this balcony. But noone was around, and I couldn't very well walk out onto the public area of the ship with no clothes on. Putting on clothes was the last thing I wanted to do.

I ran a hand back down my body, leaving a trail of fire beneath my skin. I slipped a finger into the warm space between my lips, showing the ocean how fucking great I was here, alone. My own person. I rubbed my clit in small circles, feeling the warmth spread outward from that special spot. I moaned, long and soft. It was quick, this time, and I rocked my hips against the railing as the feeling began to intensify. But suddenly, movement of some sort caught my attention. The flickering of a shadow, or the motion of the sun against the ship. That's when I realized my previous misgiving had been warranted, because above me off to the right lay another balcony, one with a full view of every action I took. On the balcony was a man.

He was slender, and old. Much older than I was from the look of him, but it was hard to tell from so far away. I could see the stroking movement of his arm, though, so he was clearly enjoying the show. And hey, why not? I was enjoying it too. I turned to face him, and tried to catch his eye, continuing the delicious strokes through my pussy. His motion became faster and more vehement in response. I let out another moan, this time louder. I wanted him to hear how fucking sexy I was.

I watched him stroking his arm and looking at me. I wished I could see his cock, glistening with pre cum. But the balconies left us so far away from one another. I imagined it instead. He wanted to fuck me, no question about it. I felt a cosmic pleasure building in my body. I was going to cum. I planned to cum loudly, so he knew.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh yes!" I yelled in his direction. As the event horizon of orgasm passed over me, I lost all thought. I lost all being. I was simply pleasure. I was simply love.

I came down, still wiggling my fingers hopefully, and realized that if this one masturbating fiend could see me, other guests could too. They'd probably heard me. I looked around, but no one revealed themselves. I slid my hand out from between my lips, and wiped the extra lubrication up and down along them. I didn't care if they had heard, I decided. I didn't care at all. I walked back into my room, and slept.