What My Husband Arranged with the Cruise Neighbor

The Mediterranean woke to a golden light that seeped through the gap in the curtain. I woke before Adrián, as I almost always did, and lay there for a while staring at the cabin ceiling, reliving the night before. The towel over my eyes. The footsteps on the neighboring balcony. The burning certainty that someone was watching me while I pretended not to know it, while my fingers sank into my drenched pussy and I bit down on the towel so I wouldn’t moan so loudly the whole ship would hear me.

I shivered, and it wasn’t from the air conditioning. Under the sheet, my hand moved on its own, almost without permission, and slipped between my thighs. They were still sticky from the night before and from what I was dreaming now. I brushed my clit with the tip of my index finger and stifled a sigh. It was swollen, throbbing. I slid two fingers into myself slowly, feeling how my pussy received them tight and wet, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t wake Adrián.

Beside me, Adrián breathed deeply, oblivious to my thoughts. Or so I believed then. I carefully pulled my hand out, licked my fingers—they tasted like me, salty and thick—and got up. I went to the bathroom. In the mirror I found a different woman. My brown eyes had a new sparkle, and my smile, the one I’d used all my life to hide my shyness, now looked like a conspirator’s. The smile of someone guarding a delicious secret.

Good morning, Helena, I told myself. Let’s see what the second day brings us.

***

Adrián woke in an excellent mood, more affectionate than usual. While we were eating breakfast at the buffet, I noticed his gaze wandering again and again to the neighboring couple’s table. Marco and Sofía, I learned later they were called. She was laughing with some friends who had joined them for breakfast; he was leafing through the newspaper with a studied indifference that was too deliberate.

—Want more coffee, love? —Adrián asked, suddenly getting to his feet—. I’ll get it.

I nodded absentmindedly, watching Sofía. She was pretty, I couldn’t deny it, but there was something about her that unsettled me. Maybe that ease with which she laughed in public, that confidence I never had.

From my chair I couldn’t see Adrián, so my attention shifted to Marco. I saw him straighten when my husband approached the coffee machine, right next to him. They exchanged a few words. Barely a few seconds. Adrián took two cups, Marco nodded almost imperceptibly, and the two of them carried on as if nothing had happened.

When he came back, he set my coffee down in front of me with a smile.

—Did you know the neighbor’s from Valencia? —he said casually—. His name’s Marco. Good people.

—Oh, really? —I replied, making an effort to sound just as calm—. And the wife?

—Sofía. She’s out with a group of friends. Apparently tonight they’ve got a girls’ plan, bingo or something like that —Adrián said while spreading jam on toast—. Hey, what if we go dancing tonight? There’s a themed evening in the forward lounge. Latin music.

I almost choked on my coffee.

—Dancing? You? —I asked, not believing him—. You always say dancing is “moving your arms with music in the background.”

Adrián shrugged with a nonchalance that struck me as strange.

—We’re on vacation. And besides, I’ve seen you a thousand times moving your hips when you think I’m not looking. You’re good at it.

The compliment took me by surprise. So did the insistence. But I said nothing. I nodded and let the day drift by between the pool, a book, and a long nap.

And yet, an idea began to grow inside me, slow and persistent. Why did Adrián suddenly want to dance? And why had he mentioned my hips right after talking to Marco?

***

That night, in front of the mirror, I chose a dress I’d stopped wearing a while ago. Black, with thin straps, and a discreet neckline that outlined the shape of my breasts. The skirt fell softly over my hips and brushed the tops of my thighs. Underneath, nothing. When I tried it on, I hesitated for a second with my panties in my hand, but in the end I left them on the bed. My pussy brushed the fabric from inside and that alone made me clench my thighs. Adrián looked at me in a way that made me blush.

—You’re gorgeous —he said, and there was something in his voice that went very deep inside me.

In the forward lounge, Latin music wrapped everything around us. Couples spun, laughed, sweated. Adrián ordered a bottle of white wine and filled my glass before I could protest.

—Come on, Helena —he urged me—. One glass to loosen up.

The first tasted like freedom. The second, like desire. I don’t even remember drinking the third.

And then we danced. Or rather, I danced. Adrián held me, guided me, but soon his hands began moving with more boldness than I was used to from him. One slid down my back and stopped right where the curve of my ass began. The other circled my waist and pulled me against him. I felt his cock perfectly, hard, pushing against my stomach through his trousers. A gasp escaped me.

—Do you like it? —he whispered in my ear.

I nodded, my head already a little clouded by the wine. The music, the heat of his body, the brush of people all around us… everything wrapped me in a warm, arousing haze. His fingers slipped under the hem of my dress, just for a second, and grazed the bare skin of my thigh. When he realized I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, he pressed his teeth against my ear and gave a low growl.

—Slut —he whispered, with a smile I could feel against my neck—. You’ve got no panties on.

—Shut up —I bit his shoulder through his shirt.

At some point, while a slow bachata was playing, his hand dropped to my hip and squeezed. His fingers sank slowly into my flesh, and I, by instinct, pressed my body to his. I rested my head on his shoulder and, through the fabric of his shirt, felt his heart beating. And his cock, harder and harder, rubbing against my stomach to the slow rhythm of the music.

That was when I saw him among the crowd. Marco was at the bar, alone, with a drink in his hand. And he was looking at me.

Our eyes met for barely a second. Just long enough for my heart to lurch and for a hot pull to drop straight to my pussy, wetting me more than I already was. I felt a warm thread slide down the inside of my thigh. I was getting wet standing there, on the dance floor, my husband pressed against me and another man watching me. I looked down at once and buried myself again in Adrián’s shoulder, but the image of those dark eyes stayed burned into me.

He’s alone, I thought. Sofía must still be with her friends.

—Another drink? —Adrián asked, pulling back a little to look at me.

—I’m going to the bathroom —I said, needing a moment alone—. I’ll be back.

I left the lounge with steady steps, though inside I was trembling. The corridor air soothed me like balm. I walked quickly, my cheeks burning and my dress sticking to my thighs, damp with my own arousal.

When I reached our door, just as I slid the card into the slot, the neighboring cabin door opened.

And there was Sofía.

She was wearing comfortable, casual clothes, perfect for a girls’ night. She smiled at me kindly.

—Hi! You’re the neighbor, right? —she said—. We saw each other at the buffet. I’m Sofía.

—Yes, Helena —I replied, returning her smile, though I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks for no apparent reason. I squeezed my thighs together, praying she wouldn’t notice the damp stain I could feel spreading inside my dress.

—How nice —she said, clearly on her way out—. My friends are waiting for me. Have a lovely night!

And she walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway with my heart pounding.

Why did I blush?, I wondered as I went inside. It’s only his wife. She has nothing to do with me.

But deep down I knew. I knew his absence meant something. I knew Sofía wouldn’t be back until late. I knew Marco was alone, in the cabin next door, with his cock probably already hard from what he’d seen on the dance floor.

I closed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. I lowered a hand and hiked my dress up to my waist. My fingers found my swollen, soaked pussy, the patch of hair stuck down by the damp. At the first touch to my clit, a rough moan escaped me. I was coming apart. I needed cold water on my face. I needed to think. I needed, above all, something thicker than my fingers.

But when I went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, the cool water didn’t manage to put out the fire I felt in my belly. I looked at myself in the mirror. Bright eyes. Flushed cheeks. My breasts, barely covered by the thin fabric, rising and falling with the rhythm of my uneven breathing. My nipples, outlined, hard, pushed at the cloth as if they wanted to break through.

Go back to Adrián, I ordered myself. Go back to the lounge and dance with your husband. This is insane.

But then, like a murmur, another voice spoke inside me. The voice of the Helena who had licked her fingers on the balcony the night before. The voice of the woman who had moaned knowing she was being watched.

Go out to the balcony, that voice said. Just to cool off. Nothing wrong with stepping out for a moment.

My heart was pounding hard. Too hard. The wine had lowered my inhibitions, yes, but it had also lent me a courage I’d never had before.

***

I opened the bathroom door and crossed the dim cabin. The sliding balcony door was half open, just as we’d left it. Adrián always liked the sea air coming in.

My bare feet stepped onto the cold wood. The sound of my own footsteps seemed deafening. The salty breeze stroked my skin, raised goosebumps on my arms, and hardened my nipples under the fabric until they hurt.

I took one step. Then another.

The divider between the two balconies was a structure of wood and frosted glass. But that night something was different. I approached slowly, holding my breath, and then I noticed it.

The panel dividing the balconies was open.

Not all the way, not blatantly. But the latch was undone and the glass had been slid just a little. A tiny gap. Enough to see. Enough to be seen.

My heart lurched.

And I knew, with a certainty that chilled my blood and set me on fire at the same time, that this was no accident. That Adrián had planned it. That Marco knew.

That the two of them had talked it over at the coffee machine that morning, while I watched Sofía laugh.

A dizzy rush of desire shot through me. My legs were shaking. My pussy was leaking down the insides of my thighs, a hot, thick trail that reached almost to my knee. I wanted to run and I wanted to stay. I wanted to scream and I wanted to be silent.

Instead, I took another step.

And then, from the neighboring cabin, I heard a sound. Barely a creak. The brush of a body against a sun lounger. And something else: heavy, restrained breathing. And a very slight, wet, rhythmic noise. The unmistakable sound of a hand sliding up and down a hard cock.

He was there. On the other side. Waiting. His cock out, silently hammering away at himself.

A gasp escaped me that I tried to swallow. On the other side, the rhythm of the hand sped up for an instant, as if answering me, and then slowed again. As if to say: I hear you. I’m here. Keep going.

I placed my trembling hand on the glass. I could push it. I could open it all the way. I could…

But I didn’t do it. Not yet.

Instead, my heart in my throat, I slowly turned back toward our side of the balcony. And, with deliberate slowness, aware of every movement, I started slipping the dress straps off my shoulders.

One. The left. The fabric gave way a little and exposed my shoulder, the curve where my breast began.

Two. The right. The dress slid down a few centimeters and stopped just where my breasts were holding it up.

I bit my lip. Closed my eyes. And I knew, with every fiber of my body, that his eyes were on me. That his cock was in his fist, throbbing for me.

Slowly, I let the dress fall.

The breeze caressed my naked skin. My breasts offered themselves to the night, to the moon, to his gaze. My nipples, erect and hard, were two points of desire aimed at him. I brought my hands to my tits and squeezed them, lifted them for him, played with my nipples between thumb and forefinger until pleasure tore a rough moan from me. On the other side of the glass, his breathing stopped for a second, then came back harder. The hand moved again. Faster.

I lowered one hand to my belly. Slowly. Very slowly. Knowing he was following every inch. I brushed the hair. Spread my legs just a little, just enough, and sank two fingers into my soaked pussy. The wetness made a moist, obscene sound that echoed in the silence of the balcony. I pulled them out shining with slick and brought them to my mouth. I sucked them slowly, one by one, as if it were his cock I was taking down my throat.

On the other side of the glass, a strangled gasp. The hand was moving frantically now. I could hear everything. The wet, slippery sound of his fist wrapped around his dick. His broken breathing.

I lowered my hand again. This time I didn’t stop at my clit. I pushed in three fingers, all the way, arching against them. I started fucking myself in the darkness of the balcony, knowing he could see me, slapping my palm against my clit every time I thrust. Short moans escaped me that I no longer tried to hold back. Short. Rough. Like a female in heat.

I didn’t look. I didn’t need to. I knew he was there. I knew he could see me. I knew that at any moment he was going to come for me.

And then I heard it. A growl clenched between his teeth, restrained, and the unmistakable sound of cumming. A hot spurt against the balcony floor, then another. His ragged breathing. The small final moan, almost a sob.

I came seconds later, with my fingers deep in my pussy and my other hand covering my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. My orgasm was long, filthy, with spasms that made my knees buckle. I felt my own juice run down my wrist. I stayed like that for a moment, panting, leaning on the railing, legs spread and fingers still inside.

Then, unhurriedly, I pulled my fingers out and licked them one by one, knowing he was still watching me. With a sensuality I hadn’t known I possessed, I turned toward the inside of the cabin. I walked slowly, knowing the curve of my ass, round and firm, still shining with sweat and my own wetness, was the last image he’d take with him that night.

I didn’t close the balcony door.

When I got into the shower, minutes later, the hot water couldn’t put out the fire. I had to turn it down to lukewarm, then to a cold stream that tightened my nipples and made my whole body shudder. I braced myself against the tiles, spread my legs, and let the showerhead’s stream hit my clit directly. Another moan escaped me. I slipped two fingers back inside, imagining it was his cock, the one that had just come for me, the one that was filling me now, all the way. Imagining his eyes, imagining his hand, imagining that on the other side of the partition he was thinking of me too, with his cock still dirty with semen.

I came a second time, faster, dirtier, biting my arm so I wouldn’t scream.

But in my head, the scream was for him.

I still have to go back to the lounge. Adrián is waiting for me. But I know, with the same certainty that tells me the sun will rise tomorrow, that tonight I’ll go back out to the balcony.

And this time, maybe, there won’t be any glass between us. This time, maybe, it’ll be his cock filling me, not my fingers.