Following our routine, Ellie went to the late show in the theatre on deck 8 at 9 pm after dinner, while I returned to our cabin and lay down. Like any good husband, I had gone with her to the shows the first two days but then told her to go on her own. The performances didn’t interest me much, and the theatre at the front of the ship always made me queasy.
Watching YouTube on my mobile, I had drifted off to sleep and jumped up, startled, as the cabin door opened and closed.
Sitting on the bed, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Hi, honey,” I greeted as Ellie entered.
“Hi,” she replied.
“Did the show finish?”
“Yes.”
She leaned against the wall for support as the ship rocked. It was moving faster now, like it always did late at night.
I glanced at my watch. “Oh, it’s half past eleven.” Surprised, I added, “Was the show longer tonight? It usually finishes by ten.”
Ellie stayed silent, her gaze fixed on me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sensing something.
“I—I have a confession to make,” she said, quickly walking up to the bed, trying to keep her balance in the swaying cabin. She sat on the edge, her eyes still locked on mine.
“Go ahead,” I prompted.
“I went to the bar after the show. For a cocktail.”
“And?”
“There…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “There was this guy, Bob, who came to my table, and he talked to me.”
“He chatted you up?” I asked.
“Yeah, kinda.”
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for more.
Ellie sighed. “He said he’d seen us at the jewellery shop when I was looking at that expensive ring with the yellow diamond, remember? He asked if I thought it would be a good present for his wife, who couldn’t join him on the trip. Her mum fell ill, so he was cruising alone. That’s how we started talking. I told him about our kids, that my mum is looking after them. I told him I’m an accountant. He bought me a second cocktail.” She paused, biting her lip again. “He’s from London. He said he knew our area well.”
I chuckled. “So, this is what you wanted to confess? A guy from London chatted you up at the bar and bought you a drink?”
“Well… when he asked what you did for a living, I mentioned you were writing, and he said, ‘Erotica.’”
My eyebrows shot up. “He said that?”
“Yes. I didn’t deny it and confirmed. Then he teased, ‘Hotwife erotica, right?’”
“Wow! How did he know?”
Ellie bit her lip. “I asked the same. He said he guessed. Then he asked if we practised the lifestyle.”
“He asked you that?”
She nodded. “Yes. I told him we didn’t. But before I could stop myself, I mentioned you write about it, though we’ve never tried it. Maybe he took that as interest, because he offered to take us to his swingers’ club in London next Tuesday. He said it would help your writing and that we didn’t have to participate—just have drinks and observe. He asked for my number to send the address… and instead of declining, I gave it to him. Then I got up and left the bar. I’ve been walking around, feeling so stupid.”
– – – – – –
As I watched her walk, I noticed something different. It looked like she was squeezing her legs together. Is she still loosened? Is she still feeling it between her legs?
A moment later, I dismissed the thought: Nah, it’s just my imagination! I’ve got to stop obsessing over it.
Then my cock throbbed, and I thought: Why should I stop? It turns me on thinking her pussy is still loosened. I’ll just think about it and enjoy it!
Waves of Temptation: A Hotwife Cruise Adventure is coming soon! In the meantime, check out more of my books on my Amazon Author Page