Chapter 2

Betsy was getting tired of wearing her “thirteen or under” outfits even though the cartoon panties were exciting in a strange kind of way. After all, she was a twenty-something female at the height of her nubile prowess. The need to keep up a pretense of being under thirteen was because her “child’s” ticket was for thirteen and under “accompanied by an adult”.

Fortunately for Betsy, she had managed to locate a willing couple to give her the cover she needed to make it onboard the “Halloween Cruise”.

Greta and Ronald Simmons were a typical fun-loving thirty-something couple nice enough to take pity on a tearful youngster with a tale of woe about being “stranded” with no way to board the departing ship. They vouched for her and took her “under their wing” not aware of the fact she was a twenty-three year old woman that had already gone through several boyfriends like a self-appointed femme fatale with an eye to her own personal satisfaction. Her little “Miss Innocence” act was perfect and she soon had her own little cabin right next to the Simmons.

The night of departure was a real eye-opener for Betsy because she managed to ensnare two horny males with very little difficulty. The first one was a teenaged youth with a fair share of pimples called Tommy.

Tommy was eager to experiment with Betsy not caring if she was thirteen or thirty and he proved to have hidden skills with his tongue that convinced her he was a lot older than he told her he actually was. She was in no position to criticize because her back story was a lot shakier than his sketchy outline of his own experiences. He had no problem in bringing her to the “tingle” she valued best of all and she knew her honey would cure his acne before the cruise was over.

Her other admirer was George Apple, Attorney at Law, a man in his early forties with lots of charisma and charm to talk her panties down with little effort on his part. Apparently, he was smitten sufficiently to disregard her age problem and decided to risk all in navigating his way up her channel of delightful tightness.

Betsy knew she could handle him as a thirteen year old or as a twenty-three year old because he was so easy to read and willing to let her take the lead in everything they did behind her locked cabin door. She was certain he would remain her complicit tool as she introduced him to her extensive repertoire of feminine wiles and downright nasty need to be properly humiliated.

Her brief stint working at the Gentlemen’s Club in Las Vegas was enough to make her ready for any contingency and she knew her skills would make any male in his forties behave like a teenager once again.

The next morning was a Saturday and the knock on her door was more like a wake-up call with both of the Simmons bringing her a tray of juice and little croissants from the galley on their level. She wolfed them down sitting on top of the bed.

Betsy knew the husband Ron was staring at her “smiley face” panties and she did not try to hide her camel-toe from his eager gaze all too evident to his green-with-envy wife Greta. His trousers were tenting in front and his wife was none too happy about it. Still, young Betsy stretched out full length on the messy bed and bounced happily face-down letting her smiley-face yellow grin become the center of attraction for both of them. She could tell that the wife was equally as interested because she was nervously wrapping her side curls around her little pinky with a guilty sense of shame at her depraved thoughts. That was all she needed to begin plotting an interesting threesome in the big bed in the Simmons cabin.

They left to allow her to take her shower. She dressed up in her “under thirteen” mini and she wandered from deck to deck bending over to display her “smiley face” to a number of passengers with thoughts of their own. It was beginning to look like the Halloween Cruise was going to be more “Trick” than “Treat” at least in terms of her own perspective.

When she thought nobody was looking, the twenty-something hot number in disguise scooped up a hardly touched margarita and swallowed it down like it was a gift from the Gods. A tall, handsome older man in shipboard whites frowned from a nearby hatch and he approached her from the rear with little fanfare. They were the only ones on that part of the narrow deck and they were unobserved when he wrapped his muscular arms around her and lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Betsy was a little bit scared and totally mortified.

She was always a bit partial to a bit of rough but she had strict rules that it had to be of her own making and she was adamantly opposed to manhandling of any type. Still, her ineffectual struggles were pathetic in a situation where she was hopelessly outclassed.