This was my first cruise on Sapphic’s Loveboat line, and I struggled. I intended to use my lofty position to get over my youthful shyness, yet avoid the entanglements Sapphic encouraged in its all female cruises down the Eastern American coast. I’m documenting my experience in this journal as well as I can recall. I’ll need the details for my trial.

Starting from the first day, I needed to own it. I’m the new captain, Kira Curk. My hundred person crew, nearly all female, learned from home office that I’m a hard ass and expected perfection — courtesy, fast response to passengers’ demands even when outrageous, flawless service to them and me.

I’d heard rumors about crew hookups and lusty behavior and knew Sapphic expected me to be tolerant of PDAs and casual nudity. Of course, I would not partake in those behaviors and restrict them to casual events, not our formal dinners. Since I would not be attending the two informal dinners each evening, the restrictions would be much more lax there. Curiosity made me wonder just how loose a ship full of women would be.

Boarding in Canada overlapped the massive cargo loading of foods and supplies. The longshoremen obviously drooled over the ladies boarding in their gowns, casuals, and more risqué outfits. Had I been of the Sapphic persuasion, I’d be tempted by many attractive and appealing women. Being formally in charge, I did my initial duty and met the first hundred or so passengers with my cruise director. Sigh. So many sexy legs, tits, and camel toes — no, stop it Kira! Yes, ok, I drooled a little too — subtly.

Once all were aboard and in cabins or milling about exploring the four-deck ship, one of the smallest in our fleet, we left port Southbound. With bridge access to scores of security cameras, I switched to the two observation decks and I ... observed. Though the women wore heavy shawls or blankets, the ones in gowns had their skirts blowing and lifting out of control. With an all female manifest, I suppose they were minimally concerned with exposing their bare legs to their hips. At least half bared their asses as they had no underclothes. If I were so inclined...

“Captain Curk, sir, we’re expecting rough weather until we clear New York. Should we announce restrictions?” asked my beautiful first mate, Celine. The calm blue sea around us would soon be choppy. I nodded my assent. The observers clutched their shawls as they walked the deck in the increasing winds. Most had nicely trimmed, yet hairy bushes now that hair was back in style. Even those had waxed labia. If I had a dick, it would be at full attention. My first mate smiled cautiously as she dwelled on my stiff nipples. Based on her swollen camel toe, obvious in our specially tailored slacks, she would be a willing conquest — no, Kira, stop these lusty thoughts. Behave!

We cleared the rough weather in four hours, just before our first informal dinner seating. Curiosity had me watching the passengers enter the dinning room in no more than casual clothing. Dress code for passengers was ‘clothing optional’ everywhere except formal dinners. On these all-female cruises that was generally translated to ‘nudity preferred.’ Non officers were required to wear cruise color, blue and white, sheer panties only. Most passengers were in shorts or bikini bottoms, many were topless. They put on quite a show as they leaned over the buffet and filled their plates. Hundreds of enticing bare tits danced for me. Are they deliberately colliding with strangers?

I should have bedded someone before this cruise. No sex in a year has made me so horny, yet still too shy to act on my impulses. Not all were beauties, but the ones who were ... Even my first mate tempted me with her crease-free, perfect, pear-shaped ass in her painted-on slacks. Our officers’ shirts were required to be unbuttoned to our nipple lines with pushup bras for our passengers’ delight. That served me well, including forcing me to show my own deep cleavage. I was never so daring in my civies.

Our cruise activities’ director announced the planned activities; nightly performances or demonstrations, informal ones like nude swimming trials, skating, jogging decks, exercise classes, and monitored sun bathing. Selfies are only permitted where no unsuspecting guests can be included.

During our first formal dinner, I noted that even in formal gowns or cocktail dresses, the ladies exposed more skin than was typical. Narrow straps replaced modest bodices; drop-down collars dropped to exposed navels; loose straps easily slid off letting a toothsome tit float free. Most dresses included obscenely long slits to their hips, exposing frilly panties or neatly trimmed bushes. Nearly all enjoyed the exhibitionistic freedom Sapphic allowed, as did I.

I sighed as I wished I were bi. Perhaps after this cruise I will find a hard man to satisfy my urges. Until then, I will observe Sapphic’s rules against fraternizing intimately with passengers or crew, unlike my predecessor. My, how our servers are exceptionally attractive. STOP it, Kira.

At the Captain’s table, I introduced myself to my eye candy companions as I kept an eye on the naked servers in their sheer panties. One especially caught my eye with her flawless face and mid-back blond hair in a pony tail. She served us a small salad as I imagined eating her spread across our table. When she stood next to me, I pushed four fingers into her panties, ostensibly to read her nameplate. Wiggling my fingers through her required, pyramid-shaped bush, I asked, “How is the service going tonight, any problems, uh Kira?”

She angled her head in curiosity as she gently pulled away and caused her panties’ waist to stretch open. “Very well, Captain. If you’ll excuse me, we have little time to serve all these tables.” Then, she smirked. “If I may, captain, your uniform needs adjustment.” She reached out and loosened a fourth button. “There, with all the photos taken, I wouldn’t want Sapphic to think our new captain was ‘out of uniform’.” The nerve. She was right. Now I was exposed to my nipple line and my large, rounded mounds in my frilly bra were visible. I refused to be embarrassed.

“Thank you, Kira, for saving me. We will chat later.” I allowed her panties to snap back as I gave her a grim nod. Conversation was inane, but the bared, stiff nipples made it bearable. As the servers bent to clear away the salads, I noticed one had a blue jeweled butt plug in her. Surprised, I scanned the others. Several had them. Kira’s was red.

Though I tried to converse with my sexy passengers, I couldn’t help keeping abreast of Kira as she moved efficiently and eloquently to each table. Her shapely, well-toned legs flexed firmly; her tits swayed together from side to side; her beautiful face showed determination and confidence; her shapely ass swayed dramatically in counterpoint to her tits. My belly groaned. If only I could have her.

The next course was split pea soup with carrots, onions, and prosciuto. I looked forward to that upscale specialty as much as I hungered for Kira to serve me. She set the huge tray down and carefully, politely, served the steaming potage to passengers first. My heart raced and I sighed as I watched her. Anyone would think she enchanted me with a spell. Maybe she did.

She came to me last and as she bent extra low to let her D-cups slap my face, I turned to them by reflex to kiss them. My hand collided with the soup as I tried to cup her magnificent tits and ... disaster. I knocked the bowl out of her hands and the potage spilled on me and into my shirt. As the hot soup filled my bra, I shouted and, knocking my chair over, I stood to brush the heat away. Kira’s face twisted in horror; her tits rebounded in chaos; my shirt began to fill.

Before my second scream, Kira pulled my shirt out of my slacks then, yanked it open sending buttons flying across the table. It still burned my tits. I tried to back away from the pain, but Kira unhooked my front opening bra and drained the soup onto my slacks. My pink tits with bright red streaks swung freely as Kira wiped the still steaming soup off my bared breasts. Her beautiful face twisted and focused. She dumped my ice water onto my napkin and plastered it to my chest.

“OK, Kira. That’s enough. I’ll head to medical. Thanks for your help. Don’t worry about it; it was my fault when I bumped your dish. Too bad abut the soup; I was looking forward to it.” I winked and winced. She kept wiping each tit then, my groin. No wonder my camel toe was so warm.