Now three beers in he didn’t want to pore over the details of that night again but alcohol & self-loathing were controlling him now. James had known from his adolescent years that he was a “tit man”, that his fantasies always revolved around busty women & this had only grown more intense & lurid over the years. This lay at the core of his self-hatred, how he wished he could quash this streak of objectification which ran through him like a stain. James was intensely aware of his flaw once Julie had unbuttoned her blouse & his hand was guided to her breasts.
Initially he froze but his caveman brain soon took over & he squeezed & stroked them, feeling her nipples harden between his fingers as he pinched & rolled them. Julie’s hand went to his crotch & unzipped his jeans, his hard cock soon out & being run between Julie’s fingers. He filled his palms with her tits & squeezed them together, bouncing & crushing them against each other, Julie softly moaning in his ear as he rubbed her dark nipples.
He was almost completely absorbed in lust until one thing brought his left brain crashing through the gates of dissolution. Julie was rubbing & stroking his cock faster & faster & grinding her pussy against his leg. Another sip of beer brings more back to him. Julie moved from the couch, her beautiful boobs brushing deliberately against his face, before pushing him back. She knelt on the floor between his legs & looked at him, her gorgeous eyes locking him like pinwheels. Then those words he’ll take to the grave.
“Do you want it between my tits?” It was like a pitcher of water to the face. At first he was confused at this alien inquiry but then the reserve he dragged with him like an immense boulder crushed him like a bug. His cock, before this so hard & so eager, retreated like a recalcitrant soldier & he babbled something to Julie about “not quite understanding what you mean”. This wasn’t how people expressed their love with each other, it was…wrong.
Needless to say he swiftly dressed & made the exit Julie suggested. His subway journey back home was a confusing one. People don’t do that do they? How can people do that? Maybe in dirty movies but that’s purely for perverts & Julie seems so nice… Is it me? I don’t know what happens between people, do they do that? Why was I so shocked?
By the end of the fourth beer he was listing with the ship & remembering how he’d got home, lay in bed still puzzling over the events of the evening & had indulged his weekly quota of masturbation while picturing Julie’s perfect breasts in his hands. That was the last time he’d been with anybody & as far as he was concerned that would never change.
James was so lost in drunken remorse that he didn’t notice the woman enter the bar & take a seat at the table opposite him. He didn’t notice her slowly sipping a cocktail, casting long glances in his direction, idly coiling her long dark hair around her fingers. He didn’t notice her black dress clinging to her body, her beautiful skin pale against the midnight velvet, her legs crossing & uncrossing, her feet twirling circles in the air. Most of all he didn’t notice how the cut of her dress allowed a generous proportion of her considerable chest to be very visible, he didn’t notice how her large breasts heaved & shook with every one of her elegantly pronounced movements.
James had decided (he was on vacation after all & in the middle of the ocean on top of that) to get destructively drunk. It was the only thing that’d kill the memories making him squirm with a self-hatred which threatened to send him leaping over the edge & allowing the water to swallow him up. More beer, he needs more beer.
He carefully stands, gripping the table for balance & makes his way to the bar but something halts him. He can sense eyes on him before he even notices his new neighbour. They lock together & he instantly feels a desire long since dormant, a premature burial along with that night but now its claws tear through the earth & claim him once more.
Before he’s aware of the caveman wrenching control again he looks at her with a want which shoots through his body like a teenage crush. Images flash across his mind as he takes in the full extent of her dreamlike beauty: his hands on her face as they kiss, her soft breaths against his ear as he presses himself against her, his hands tracing the outline of her full ass, sliding up the curves of her body before losing himself in the warm softness of her…
“B340.” The voice is so soft that it seems to drift in from the distant murmur which floats in from the deck.
“B340. Come to B340.”
The words seem scrambled amongst the alcohol & the shame & the lust. James is walking behind the mysterious stranger down one of the long hallways before it dawns on him that it’s a cabin number.