I started this story with an idea and principle characters firmly in mind. As the story developed and Gabe, the narrator, spoke to me, I realized that the story needed some context to make sense. Gabe was all too willing to provide the needed context and he droned on and on about how Celeste, his wife, and he, developed into the couple they had become. With his insistence on the details of an early event in their relationship, I further realized the tale had become too long and it was really better told as two distinct episodes with the same couple. This is the first story, Gabe's context. The second story, with the working title "Downstairs" will follow shortly (assuming the editors agree).
It's amazing how things change unexpectedly in your life and you suddenly find yourself in a place you never considered possible just a few years earlier. With Celeste and me, it started about five years ago.
First, a little background. My name is Gabriel. I prefer the nickname Gabe and most everyone, except my mother, calls me Gabe. Celeste and I have been married for eight years. She'll call me Gabriel when she's frustrated with me. We are both the products of a strict parochial education, heavily focused on faith, classical literature and practical mathematics. In my experience, children raised in that environment become conservatives or radicals. With names like Gabriel and Celeste our outcomes were preordained and we didn't disappoint.
We were married eight years ago, enduring unimaginative comments like "a match made in heaven" and "angels without wings." We spent the first three years exploring and expanding our knowledge and proficiency in all things sexual. We had no comparative data but we believed that if a ranking was created, we would rate high on the Richter scale of orgasmic outcomes.
We live in a second story garden apartment near the center of town. There's an entry on the first floor with the entrance to the ground floor apartment on the right and a flight of stairs directly ahead. The entrance to our apartment is at the top of the stairs, also on the right so our apartment is directly above the first-floor apartment. There's a young couple living downstairs so we do our best to keep the noises of our sexual encounters to a minimum.
And then we took that fateful cruise. It wasn't a cruise to nowhere although it began and ended in the same port. We booked a six-day, five-night cruise from Miami around the eastern Caribbean. It fit nicely into a vacation week we took in the late winter. Time on the ship, around the pool and hot tubs and on the warm beaches of the Caribbean was too tempting after a cold, city bound winter.
I packed mostly light weight clothes, shorts and several modest bathing suits. Celeste packed a half dozen bikini's and one I hadn't seen before.
When we checked in, we were issued elastic wrist bands that served to identify us and also opened the door to our stateroom.
At dinner, the first night, we were seated at a four-person table with Jack and Annette, an unmarried couple. Jack and Annette were a couple of years older than we were and experienced cruisers, this being their seventh cruise. Dinner was actually fun. They were an engaging couple. Jack was a natural comedian and Annette kept feeding him straight lines. As dinner drew to an end, Jack offered to show us around the ship and we accepted.
Showing us around the ship entailed a visit to the ship's theater where we watched a Disney-like musical and then to a club for drinks. The drinks were uninspiring but the music persuasive. I danced several dances with Celeste and then with Annette. Annette might have been an old hand at cruising but she was all hands when dancing. Her hands wandered all over my neck, back and derrière. She made a point of holding me tight during a slow dance. I politely held her close in return.
During a short break, Celeste admitted to me that Jack was similarly inclined, moving his hands slowly up and down her back and holding on to her ass firmly during the slow dance.
I asked her how she felt about Jack's exploration of her body and she confessed that she found it pleasant to the point of excitement.
"He's making you wet, isn't he?" I asked pointedly.
Her response was a simple, "Yes."
"Full disclosure," I told Celeste. "Annette is working similar magic with me."
"Hard?" Celeste asked.
"It's getting there," I said.
"What do we do?" asked Celeste.
"I think we go with the flow and see where it leads," I suggested.
"What if I lose control and I fuck him?" asked Celeste.
"I don't think that will happen unless I'm also fucking Annette," I said.
"I don't know if I'm okay with that," said Celeste.
"We've talked about it at home," I reminded her.
"We fantasized about it," clarified Annette. "This isn't fantasy. This is too real."
"We could just say good night and head back to our stateroom," I offered.
Celeste was silent for several moments. "I don't think I want to do that," she said.
"What happens if he wants to fuck you?" I asked.
"I'm more concerned about how you'll feel if he fucks me," said Celeste.
"I'll probably be focused on fucking Annette," I told her.
"And afterward, when were back in our stateroom again?" asked Celeste.
"We have fantasized about the possibility and, if you fuck my brains out afterward, I think I'll handle it very well," I said.
Celeste laughed. "I think we should go with the flow and see where it leads," she said.
We danced until just before the club closed. I danced every dance with Annette. She was very body conscious. Her hands on my body were never still and she encouraged me to do the same with her body. Whenever I paused my hands on her body, she reminded me, sometimes verbally. As we danced in the darkened room, I learned that her lips tasted sweet and her breasts were full and warm. Her pubic area never paused rubbing on one of my thighs and her hands wandered over my erection in my pants ceaselessly.
Late in the evening, Annette whispered in my ear, "Hold my ass."
Since I wasn't opposed to holding her ass, I did as I was told.
"Under my skirt," Annette whispered.
I used my fingers to pull up her skirt in the back one inch at a time. Annette shifted her hips to allow the front of her skirt to keep up. When I could, I reached under the hem of her skirt and continued to move both hands up the back of her thighs. When I reached the creases at the top of her thighs and the bottom of her cheeks, I spread my fingers and continued upward over her naked ass.
"Oh. No panties," I commented. "When did that happen?"
"In the ladies' room, when we took a break," said Annette.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"In my purse," answered Annette. "Do you want to see them?"
"Maybe later," I said.
