The river cruise ship supposedly had all sorts of amenities, but in the two days we’d been aboard thus far the only “amenity” I had discovered was Carey’s vagina. I had thought that a New Year’s holiday cruise down the Rhine on the MS “River Explorer” was just the ticket for our honeymoon. Carey’s idea of exploring, however, was seeing how deep and how often I could plow her from supper to lunch of the next day.

Not that I was complaining, mind you, but this had become much of a surprise to me. I could have had anyone I wanted at the university–I was quarterback to a winning football team and paid whatever my scholarship didn’t cover with male modeling gigs. But Carey hadn’t let me fuck her before we’d married. She’d been friendly enough and we’d gotten real close to the whole package, but she’d always hold off. And now that we were married, she was showing me that she’d known all of the moves all along. If anything, she was a lot better at it than I was. She certainly sucked cock better than the guys I’d been with did, not to mention any of her sorority sisters–all of whom I’d had in one way or another.

But the whole reason for this expensive honeymoon cruise was beginning to slip out of our grasp. As much as I liked her writhing under me on one of the narrow beds in our cabin—we could have rented out the other bed, as we’d yet to need it—I’d been raised to appreciate the value of a dollar. So, by the second night on the ship, I’d decided we needed to make use of some of the luxury we were paying for.

It was the ship’s New Year’s Eve gala ball, and the riverboat was in the middle of the channel in Cologne, Germany, all set to add the world-famous First Night fireworks display there to the party spirit and hot band playing in the Latitude 52’ Lounge.

I was glad that I had unwrapped Carey’s legs from around me and pulled out of her and sent her off to the shower and to dress for dinner, insisting that we’d paid for this New Year’s bash and jolly well would take advantage of it—that we could fuck to our hearts’ content for the next fifty years. When I’d taken my own shower and was struggling into my tux, I caught sight of her in her formal, and her beauty took my breath away. It was all I could do to carry through with the plans to party with others tonight.

And party with others we did. Yes, indeed we did.

Being nearly the youngest paying passengers aboard, and being given special treatment in honor of our honeymoon, we were seated at a well-placed table with another couple who turned out to be minor celebrities. Raul, a dusky-skinned Cuban, who had really taken good care of his conditioning, was a former major league baseball player who had made many millions at the game and left it a few years ago. His raven-haired wife, Jessica, had been a near-the-top sex siren movie actress of two decades previously. Both had cashed in on their success early and were now specializing in being seen in all of the pleasure spots of the world. I was in awe that Carey and I were in their dazzling spotlight this New Year’s Eve. Everyone in the room was aware of our quartet—the four of us, a very young couple and a very-well-known couple in their early forties—glowing in beauty and laughter and easy conversation in the focal point of a festive little world on a luxury cruise ship in the center of an ancient German river city.

Jessica bubbled with laughter and Raul oozed with charm and worldly conversation, both showing surprising interest in the lives that Carey and I had only just started—indeed, we were several lives behind the fascinating ones Jessica and Raul had already lived. And Carey and I were both completely disarmed that the two of them would show such interest in us rather than reveling in themselves and their own world. We also were being disarmed by the champagne and mixed drinks Raul was ensuring we both readily had at hand. Raul’s conversation became increasingly suggestive and sensual as the party moved toward its peak, and although Jessica wasn’t babbling as much as she did at the beginning, her infectious laugh still tinkled at Raul’s comments, and she was pulling first me and then Carey into her intimately with the come-hither gazes of her hazel eyes, set off all the more by the contrast with her silky raven-black hair.

When the sirens and noise makers of New Year’s went off and the fireworks began to burst over the banks of the river beyond the ship, I turned to Carey, but Raul was already there ahead of me. And before I could raise an objection or do anything else, Jessica’s lips were on mine. And the kiss she gave me wasn’t a friendly peck, but a full-blown exploration of my senses that had my cock stirring against the silk of my tux.

As we were downing the New Year’s glass of cheer, Raul made a couple of comments that were well beyond suggestive, and I turned to Carey in a bit of alarm, worrying about how she would react to such explicit talk. But she was smiling, her mouth a little slack. Her face was even more lovely than earlier in the blush of too much to drink. I thought that it must only because of how much she had consumed that she hadn’t been shocked by what Raul was saying.

Jessica may have been more sober and more aware of Raul’s stepping over some sort of line, though, because she suddenly said she needed to powder her nose and would Carey like to accompany her to their suite just a few steps away on the Navigator deck? When they had swept away, Raul sat back in his chair and gave me a lopsided grin. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of cigars, obviously expensive Cuban cigars, which he no doubt had no trouble obtaining.

“Care to join me?” he asked, with a sly grin.

“I’d love to,” I said, “but this ship is all nonsmoking, except out on the deck, and it’s much too cold to go out there, I think.”

“Let’s go to your cabin, then,” Raul said. “I’ve just got to have a cigar.”

“Can’t smoke in the cabins, either,” I said with true regret. I would have liked a good Cuban cigar just then, as well. It might have sobered me up a bit. I felt that both Carey and I were way out of our league here—somehow losing control in an unknown and maybe dangerous way with this highly sophisticated older couple.

“Who’s to know what we do in your cabin?” Raul said. And that sly grin was back.

Before I could think of what to say to that, he was standing and was pulling me up with a strong, beefy hand on my black silk-covered elbow.

“Which way to your cabin, young man?”

I dumbly rose and led him down to our cabin on the Explorer deck. I flicked on the light as we entered. The cabin was compact and I could see our reflection in the mirror above the bureau as soon as we entered. He closed the door and then was standing close behind me as I faced the bureau. Very close behind me. Too close behind me for me to misunderstand.

I stared at him in the mirror, his face nearly beside mine over my shoulder, his smoldering black eyes capturing mine in the mirror. I was mesmerized and immobilized as his body pushed at mine from the back. I could feel the power of him rising against my butt.

Now right here is where I should admit that I’m bi. That some of the football players on my team in college and I were—well, all understood what we meant when we talked about a tight end, and we were so close knit that some of us spent time inside others of us.

I watched in shock and awe—and in arousing interest—as his arms came around my sides and his hands went inside my tux coat and then pulled my shirt tail out and went up under my shirt.