Dominque’s Hotwife Cruise

It was to be an unforgettable cruise with a limited number of handpicked guests. The vessel was a private yacht, but not just any yacht; this ship could sleep forty guests and a crew of thirty.

The cruise director had several special themes picked out for party rooms. Themes such as: “Who Wants to Gangbang” and the always popular “BDSM Anybody?” The party room titled Santa’s Gift, was by invitation only. That room featured a real live twenty-one-year-old university cheerleader who had managed to hang on to her virginity, until now. The debauchery would go on long into the night, so it was essential for Buffy to select just the right guests to relieve the poor girl of her virginity burden.

This wasn’t an ordinary cruise — it was for hotwife. Except, Dominque wasn’t a hotwife. She looked like a young Sophia Loren, and she dressed like an Amish school girl. Steve, Dominque’s husband, had only seen his wife’s perfect naked body one time, and that one time had been by accident. Another accident had booked them on a Christmas hotwife cruise with Tania, James, and the billionaire Tim. Along with thirty additional lifestyle veterans and a crew planning to steal whatever valuables they had on board.

An excerpt from Dominque’s Hotwife Cruise

The handsome First Mate and the blonde Chief Stewardess welcomed the couple aboard and indicated that they should make themselves comfortable until a Stateroom could be assigned. The Mate suggested they wait in the cozy lounge with a small Christmas tree, and they both watched Dominque’s ass sway as she walked away toward the lounge. They looked at each other as if sharing the same thought — this spectacular woman might not be on the guest list, but nobody would object to her joining the party.

While the couple waited, Dominque picked up the top sheaf of a stack of stapled papers prepared for the arriving guests. These were nothing more than ordinary pages printed on both sides on the office LaserJet. The stapled pages had been left in a small pile on the counter behind the stewardesses’ podium.

Steve sat uncomfortably, wondering why their sleeping quarters had not been pre-assigned, and watching the young, skimpily dressed stewardess on the telephone, speaking rapidly with whoever was on the other end. Occasionally she snuck glances at the couple sitting alone in the lounge area.

“Steve, listen to this,” Dominque’s face had turned white, and her voice shook. “These are the rules. Are you ready?” Her hands trembled, and she looked near tears as she read:

Welcome, my friends, to the cruise of a lifetime aboard my yacht, the Carbone. I wish to get the necessary out of the way first, so there are only a few simple rules we should observe all.

“Sounds like it was written in some other language and translated into English,” Steve said.

  • There is to be no nudity in dining room for sanitation purposes.
  • Sex in public is not discouraged but use please discretion.
  • Guests should be dressed while we port to comply with local laws. I can’t afford bail you all out of jail.
  • This should not need to be said, but remember, please always, no means no!
  • Don’t assume yes just because the other guest doesn’t say “no.” They could mean “maybe.” Ask if unsure.
  • This is a clothing option cruise. Meaning, we have the option of taking your clothing from you and throwing into water. Let’s have fun and not make others uncomfortable by covering up.

This is adult anything-go cruise, so have fun!

Remember please our motto: No Hole Barred

“Steve, this is some kind of sex cruise!” Dominque was beginning to hyperventilate not entirely because she’d just realized what “adult” meant, but also because of the excitement she couldn’t control from being so near depravity.

At first, she’d thought her period might have started early judging by the flooding wetness she felt between her legs, but the timing was all wrong. She then realized how turned on she was by the forbidden nature of the things she’d read. Dominque was trying to ignore how it excited her.

Steve put a comforting arm around her, which only made things worse. Dominque wanted her husband. She wanted to strip off her clothes and make love to Steve right there in the lounge. She was quivering with anticipation.

This was all wrong. Dominque stood up straighter, trying to control herself. ‘I’m a Christian woman and a wife. The idea of making love with another man is repulsive. It’s wrong,’ she thought, then. ‘Why do I feel all tingly down there?’

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