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I love giving head. I have since the first time I tried it.
I know people think I’m some sort of uptight prude. But just because I don’t shake my tits and ass for the world to see, wear a face full of makeup, or act like a party girl, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have some fun.
Maybe I just do it differently from other people.
And while I still have no goddamn idea why I am stuck on this boat, Ilya is about to find out it’s his lucky goddamn day.
With a hand firmly holding his balls, I take him all the way to the root. He tastes of the salty Mediterranean, fresh and clean, and my initial draw causes him to mini-convulse. I run my tongue over and around his head, hard and bulbous in my mouth. Spittle runs down my chin and my eyes water.
I love it.
A tingle washes over me until I shiver. My free hand finds the hungry spot between my legs, and I’m soaked like I knew I would be, my cunt puffy, my clit hard and protruding. As I slide Ilya’s cock in and out of my mouth, I slide two fingers inside myself, my favorite way to get off, pleasing both of us at the same time.
But he abruptly pulls out, stepping back to see my mouth hanging open, my cunt stuffed with my fingers.
“Knees,” he says. “On your knees.”
With his hands on my hips, he positions me facing away, kneeling on the edge of the bed. His cock, still wet from my mouth, slams into me so hard I brace myself against the bed to keep from flying across it.
And the sensation is so delicious, being stretched, being filled, it’s like everything in the world is perfect, nothing is wrong, nothing everwaswrong, and nothing everwill bewrong. All I feel, as pure pleasure surges through my veins, somehow, incredibly, even to the end of my hair, is happiness. The kind of happiness I only ever feel when I’m doingthis.
It’s my secret. And now Ilya knows it. Bogdan learned it last night.
He pumps and pumps, growling loudly enough, I think, for everyone on the boat to hear, not that I care. His fingers hold my hips so tightly I know there will be marks later, and I don’t care about that, either.
And I am grateful, although I won’t be thanking him. He deserves no credit. He is just a hard cock that happens to be in the right place at the right time. I will try to get away again, no doubt about it, but while I’m here, these men will make me feel good.
I come with a screaming orgasm, my pussy contracting, milking Ilya’s thrusts for all they’re worth. I buck back against him to show him I can take it, my head flipping until hair’s in my eyes and mouth and I can’t see. The room reeks of salt water and sex, the two going together so well, as if they’re made to happen side by side, the perfect complement to each other. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, why I’m on this damn boat, what happened to the sisters, or what the hell Ilya meant about my father, but for a few moments it doesn’t matter, for a few moments I just want a break from the madness of everything happening around me.
Problem is, it doesn’t last forever. Ilya comes with a growl and when he attempts to gently lay me down on the bed, I don’t fall for it and push him the hell away. I know he wanted to get his rocks off just like I did. No need to pretend it was anything more.
“Are you okay,malishka?” he asks, pulling his swim trunks back on.
I head to the bathroom to clean up, and most importantly, catch the cum starting to run down my leg. I pause in the doorway.
“I’m fine, Ilya. But can I ask a question?”
One of his eyebrows rises as he tries to anticipate what I might be asking.
“What the hell doesmalishkamean?”
He drops his head back and roars with laughter. “Oh, Abby, you are funny. It means baby girl.Malishka. Baby girl.”
Oh. Okay. Sort of trendy, but I’ll take it.
He leaves and I jump in the shower, happy to find it’s fresh water. I was worried it might be salty, but I guess on a boat like this, you get all the creature comforts. That is, if someone doesn’t take away your phone.
Yeah, I know my phone didn’t ‘go missing.’ Those guys must think I’m an idiot. They have my phone somewhere on this boat, and I plan to find it.
Now that my post orgasm glow is being washed down the drain, fear creeps back into my consciousness, and I begin to worry—one of my super powers. I’m not proud of it. But shit is what it is.
What did Ilya mean about my father?With a father like mine, what do I expect?
My dad’s a successful businessman. He’s fairly well-off. Not rich—he doesn’t have a yacht or anything like that—but he does okay, and we live comfortably. We take vacations where we aren’t limited to car trips but actually fly on airplanes. I know not everybody gets to do that.
We are really not wanting for anything.
So, are they holding me for ransom? Are they hitting my dad up for money? Why? They seem to have way more than he does.
