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Lactogenesis XLIII: The Cruise part 1
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
LACTOGENESIS XLIII: THE CRUISE, PART ONE
Christine pressed a crisp $5 bill into the outstretched palm of
the young man who had delivered her luggage to her cabin. I'll bet I'm
going to be running into this one a lot during this cruise, she thought,
as she took note of the fact that his eyes never left her chest throughout
the transaction. Over the months since The Accident and its subsequent
physical manifestations, which had caused the opposite sex's interest in
her to increase exponentially, Chris had learned to read the hormonally
driven behaviors of men quite well. She could tell, for example, that
this fellow had already memorized her cabin number, was aware she was
traveling alone, and judging from where his eyes were riveted, had not
seen such a perfectly sized and shaped bustline as her own in several
Miami-to-Montego Bay runs. He was going to be trouble. She was surprised
at herself, however, to discover that she was amused and not put off by
the porter's obvious gaping. Well, maybe there's a little treat in store
if he plays his cards right, she found herself thinking. As she closed
the door on him, she shook her head and said aloud, "I must really be
getting into vacation mode." Indeed, the stirrings she felt within as she
entertained the notion of "treating" the porter were considerably stronger
than usual. Reining in her libido, Chris decided to get familiar with her
cabin.
Sherri had taken care of all the arrangements and the arguing with
Jeremy about the price. Her intercession on Chris's behalf had netted
Chris one of the better cabins on the uppermost passenger deck: very
spacious, comfortable, quiet, and well positioned away from the cramped,
busier, less luxurious lower decks. A perfect place for "entertaining",
Chris thought. As she began unpacking her luggage, she periodically
paused to hold in front of her one of the new outfits she and Sherri had
picked out for this trip. She had packed nothing from her existing
wardrobe; everything, right down to the racy Victoria's Secret lingerie,
was going to be showing up on Jeremy's Gold Card next month.
Last to come out of the suitcases was a small but powerful breast
pump and attachments, safely ensconced in a fabric bag. Although she
could have chosen, through the use of her finely honed mental discipline,
to shut down her milk production for the duration of the trip, she had
decided instead that, if anything, she might try to increase it. After
all, this cruise line was famous for its onboard food, which was available
nearly around the clock. She figured she would eat as much and as often
as she liked, and simply convert the excess calories into milk. She hoped
that she would meet at least one man during the three days it would take
to reach Negril who would be willing to assist her in this regard. The
idea of "pumping and dumping" never did appeal much to her.
By the time she had settled in, the "all ashore that's going
ashore" announcement had been made and final preparations for casting off
had been completed. Chris took her place at the rail, confetti and
streamers in hand, and took part in the traditional "bon voyage" sendoff,
even though there was no one she knew waving back from the pier. The
crowd at the railing was so thick that as it began to disperse, Chris
found herself being jostled somewhat violently. An errant elbow caught
her in her left breast, not hard enough to be painful, but hard enough to
make her realize how full and heavy her breasts were. She realized that
she had not thought to shut down her lactation during the long flight to
Miami, the time at the airport, and the trip from there to the pier. No
wonder she was feeling tender!
Chris returned to her cabin and jumped into the shower with the
intent to relieve herself by performing her common practice of allowing
the cascading hot water to intensify her already awesome letdown reflex.
Under normal circumstances, the feeling of the increased flow of milk
blasting out of her nipples (at home she could probably send the spray
fifteen feet or more if the shower wall weren't in the way) was enough for
a satisfying orgasm even without strategically directing the flow from the
shower head. But when she walked into the small stall and noticed an
unfamiliar type of faucet, she realized suddenly that she hadn't been away
from home for an extended period since The Accident over a year before.
The strangeness of her surroundings detracted from her enjoyment of
emptying her breasts somewhat, but she was still able to come twice from
the directed spray on her clit, each time challenging the floor drain with
the flood of juices pouring from her pussy.
She moved from the bathroom into the main part of the cabin,
enjoying the delicious feeling of walking around naked in a strange room.
She dressed for dinner, choosing a teal-and-white dress that was clingy
and provocatively cut, and whose design allowed only a pair of French-cut
panties as foundation. She knew from examining a layout of the main
dining room that her assigned table was quite close to the Captain's
Table. In this outfit I should be able to catch the eye of an officer or
two, Chris thought with a twinkle in her eye. I've never done it with a
man in uniform before... The thought made her breasts tingle anew.
As she made her way along the ship's corridors, down the elevator,
and toward the dining room, she was awestruck at the size of this vessel,
the Carib Mermaid. She walked past the entrances to a nightclub that was
at least as large as most of those she frequented on land; a casino
rivaling those in Atlantic City for noise and sparkle; a well-equipped
health club; a duty-free shop; two smaller dining areas; an arcade; a
beauty shop and a myriad of other services. The central "commons" area of
the ship was several decks deep. It resembled a small shopping mall or a
gigantic hotel lobby, sporting a number of levels accessible by glass
elevators. This is one big damn boat, Chris marveled to herself. Sherri
sure knows how to pick 'em.
There was a short line at the entrance to the surprisingly large
main dining room as guests waited to be directed to their assigned tables.
Upon Chris's reaching the head of the line, a too-young crewmember escort
waiting there broke into a wide grin, extended his crooked elbow into
which Chris slipped her gloved hand, and personally escorted her to her
table, which for the moment was still empty. She noted with satisfaction
that few other women were being given such preferential treatment. In
full hunting mode now, she used the time before the arrival of her
tablemates to scan the room. Sure enough, the Captain's Table was only a
few feet away. Several people, including a few officers, were already
seated. She must have been putting out pheromones like crazy into a
favorable breeze, for the man she set her sights on, a fellow worthy of
the cover of GQ whose uniform suggested fairly high rank, met her gaze
within seconds of it alighting upon him. He smiled broadly, his eyes
crinkling slightly. He raised his champagne glass to her, cocking his
head as he did so. Chris immediately felt her nipples straining at the
flimsy fabric of her dress as she smiled back with all the lust she could
muster without actually drooling on the tablecloth. Jeez, she said to
herself. Reel it in, girl! Who's running the show here, anyway, you or
your glands? She must have been frowning, for when her attention once
again focused on her quarry, his attention had been diverted elsewhere.
She tried again to catch his eye, but in vain. Dammit, she thought. Why
did you have to pick that moment to admonish yourself? Now you've blown
it!
Within a few minutes the other occupants of Chris's table arrived.
They included an elderly couple whose bronze skins told of many years
chasing the sun; a newlywed couple barely out of their teens who never
stopped touching each other; and a third couple who looked like they were
on a second honeymoon. I'll need to have a talk with the cruise director,
Chris said to herself in disappointment. I'd have thought they'd seat us
singles together. She was just beginning to resign herself to eating her
dinner in silence when she felt a light touch on her shoulder. She looked
up into the aquamarine eyes of the officer she'd been trying so hard to
interest these last several minutes.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help noticing that
perhaps an error has been made here," he said in a rich New England
baritone.
"I'm sorry?" said Chris, not comprehending.
"You appear to be traveling alone. We usually try to seat singles
at the same table so that they can meet each other."
Not only is he gorgeous, but he can read minds too, thought Chris.
She turned up the pheromones another notch and smiled blazingly.
"That's very kind of you to notice, but I don't mind at all," she lied.
"Well, nevertheless, I'll be sure to speak to the cruise director
and get you reseated. In the meantime, I would be honored if you would
join me at my table." He extended his hand in a very formal manner.
Chris took it and fairly floated to her feet, letting one of the
spaghetti straps of her dress fall off of one shoulder as she did so. She
allowed the officer to guide her toward the Captain's Table, one hand
placed in the exposed small of her back. She didn't even bother to say
goodbye to the others at her table.
As they arrived, Chris felt the eyes of the important-looking
guests there move to her. The men at the table rose to their feet. The
women tried to look indifferent. Chris detected slightly raised eyebrows
on one or two of them. Mildly embarrassed, she smiled and tried valiantly
to suppress the vigorous erection of her nipples brought on by the
proximity of her target. The officer pulled out the only other vacant
chair at the table beside his own. As he did so, he leaned in close to
her and whispered quickly, "In my haste to correct the oversight, I
neglected to ask your name. I have to make your introduction and have no
idea how to do it."
"My name's Christine," she whispered back.
"I'm Jonah Ballwin, Second Officer aboard the Mermaid," he
returned. "I'm charmed to meet you."
Not as charmed as you're going to be, thought Chris.
<<to be continued>>
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