Crazy Cruise trip with fathers

Roger was still thinking of the story Yannis told him, laying in bed in the dead of night.

As he listened, he stared transfixed at the sex before him, amazed when the man fucking his daughter motioned for the other guys to come closer. Their eyes only made him thrust faster, harder, like he could somehow make her even more pregnant with the massive creampie he shot in her cunt. Like a fertility goddess, the girl rose to her knees, her dad's fuckslop drooling down her legs, and welcomed the touch of the voyeurs. They stroked her round stomach, frosted it with their hot loads, and she moaned even more than she had with a prick slamming her twat.

Roger left the pool and headed straight to the cabin, where he'd spent the rest of the day refining pitches for the vaunted meeting with Sean, dick throbbing, ignored, in his lap. It seemed insane that his career might be revived by being on this cruise. Immoral, even. But he'd be a fool not to at least play along, even if only to talk to his boss and finally find out why he and Alana had been invited on this vacation.

By the time she came back, Roger's arousal had dissipated, though he saw the same wasn't true for her. She listened to the news about the pitch meeting with interest, but he noticed the blush dusting her cheeks, the spark in her eyes, the way she rubbed her thighs together. It wasn't surprising -- she was young, and the atmosphere on board crackled with sex, now more than ever. It was almost impossible to take two steps outside their room without seeing some sort of public act of incestuous debauchery. Even knowing how morally corrupt the whole thing was, the taboo was undeniably exciting.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Alana started masturbating.

She clearly thought her father was asleep. They'd gone to bed hours before, and having nothing to do had made him replay Yannis's tale of seducing Erica over and over in his head. In fact, he'd changed a few details of the story and included it in his pitch packet for Sean, and was mulling over whether he'd really go through with it in the morning when he caught Alana slipping out of her nightshirt.

Roger could have coughed, or even just spoken to let her know he was awake. Instead, he kept very still, and listened to her quickening breath, felt the mattress shake. She was trying to be discreet. Laying on her front, she put one hand between her chest and the bed to toy with her young tits, twist and pinch her rosy nipples to sensitive peaks. She slid her other hand between her legs, lazily rubbing her sleepy clit until her lips were dewey, then working her fingers inside with a quiet squelch. Roger lay, immobile, as his daughter humped her hand beside him, pressing the heel of her palm hard against her mound with each thrust until she let out a little, climactic whimper. It would have been so easy to reach out and fondle her needy cunt.

The mattress shifted as Alana got up and quietly slipped off to the ensuite bathroom. When he heard the shower begin the run, Roger kicked the covers down and pulled his boxers low enough to release his painfully hard cock. It pointed straight up, towards his face, trembling with every heavy heartthrob. He watched a pearl of precum ooze out the slit, drip into a thick strand, and pool on his stomach. Then, another.

He should have jerked off earlier. If he tried now, he'd only be able to picture the sights, sounds, and scent of his own daughter. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around his aching prick and release days of pent-up frustration -- well, nothing more, except bending over Alana, splitting her little pussy, and letting it engulf his fat daddy cock.

Hands shaking, Roger pulled his underwear back up.

Only two more days.

Only two more days.

DAY -06

Alana wandered the ship in a daze.

She didn't know what'd come over her last night. She'd started the trip repulsed by the rampant incest all around her, then grown towards morbid fascination. Now people were starting to fuck openly, everywhere, she couldn't deny the persistent heat between her legs. Without thinking of what could happen, she'd slipped out of her nightclothes and, with her sleeping father beside her, furiously fingered herself to her first orgasm since boarding the cruise.

Showering off right after her climax, the reality of what she'd done set in. Her dad had slept through it, but… what if he hadn't? What kind of pervert would he think she was, rubbing her pussy to fathers deep-dicking their children?

Unless, in the privacy of their cabin -- or anywhere else where she hadn't seen him -- Roger had discreetly been stroking his meat to this whole impossibly debauched display.

Alana had seen her father's cock twitch in his pants, remembered the exact shape and size of his hard-on. Walking around the boat was risky -- who knew what she'd see? -- but staying in the cabin with him might be worse. The atmosphere of the place was getting to her. She knew she'd lounge around in bed, and make excuses to leer at her poor father's bulge, studying its curves, hoping against hope he'd find some cause to stiffen so she could finally see his throbbing prick, and then --

Then, who knows what would happen?

So Alana bid Roger goodbye and went on a stroll. Sure, people were having sex pretty much out in the open, but it'd be one or two couples at most, in public gathering areas. She'd be okay if she stuck to low-profile routes. That's what she thought, at least.

She heard the noises of exertion before she even rounded the corner.

In front of her, two men carried on a conversation side by side, only occasionally interrupted by their grunting, as they rhythmically pumped their swollen cocks in and out of their prone daughters' assholes, balls slapping against the girls with each thrust. Alana could see how wet their pussies were, despite how dutifully they refrained from touching themselves, and when she hurried around the foursome, she saw the women were chatting, too, totally separate from their fathers. Like a casual meeting over coffee between two families, but with hardcore fucking.

Maybe it wasn't even incest. They might have swapped daughters, for all Alana knew. That seemed almost as perverse as the alternative.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she made a beeline for the shop that sold snacks and magazines. The dining hall was sure to be full at this time. Maybe she'd be safe here.

Alana breathed a sigh of relief when she saw she'd made the right choice. A girl stocked the shelves, and presumably manned the register, but there was no one else in sight. She took her time, picking out a decent selection for the day ahead, plus one of those airport novels she could read in half a day. She was thinking how grateful she was that whoever organised the cruise wasn't corny enough to only sell incest-themed books when a man strolled in, with a,

'Hi, honey!'

And as the girl looked at him with a smile, he flipped up her skirt, revealing her naked ass, popped the small, lubed plug out, and slid his middle finger deep inside, instantly jackhammering her poor asshole before she had the chance to react.

She collapsed against the shelf with a drawn-out moan, and made a half-hearted attempt to get his hand out of her. 'Dad, I have a customer…'

'So?' he growled, nibbling her ear and shooting Alana a grin. 'That little slut saw worse on her way here.'

Blood rushed to Alana's cheeks. It wasn't untrue , but she'd usually cuss out any man who called her something like that. Now, she just clasped her items tightly and went to the register.

'Sorry, mmh…' the shopkeeper sighed, sticking her hips out so her father could better stretch out her hole. 'Just, ah, write your cabin number and I'll… put it on your bill.'

Alana hurried to comply, and ducked out of the shop just as the man unzipped his pants. She'd have to find a quiet spot to read, unbothered -- but all the usual nooks involved moving through areas of heavy footfall. So far, the men had kept their hands to themselves, and her new friends had told her unwanted groping wasn't usually a problem, but with this kind of atmosphere, anything seemed possible.

After fruitlessly searching the hallways for a comfortable place, she decided she might be luckier outside. Even travelling from where she stood to the closest door, she passed a couple hopelessly addicted to each other's lips, the man carrying his daughter as though she weighed nothing. He held her in a way that kept her legs spread wide, bouncing her on his hard cock with each step, walk-fucking the girl he'd half created.

What if these bizarre standards spread outside the confines of this ship? Would Alana find herself window-shopping beside men casually humping slim women, tied to them front-to-front? Constantly immersed in a sexual haze, never not horny?

It scared her. She finally found a way out and stepped onto the deck.

There was no respite there, either. Naturally.

The first sight that greeted her was two tight pussies leisurely bouncing on rock hard cocks. The girls straddled their fathers' laps, cowgirl, as the men lay on beach chairs and watched their children work. Alana was mesmerized by the twitching bellies of their shafts, the tightening of their balls, and had to force herself to look away and march to a more secluded spot, even though she could hear the wet sounds of their rutting and the mixture of conversation and moans the whole time.

Further away from the recreation areas, things were a lot more quiet. Just waves, the faint noise of the ship's propeller, and the smell of salty sea air. Alana thought she'd finally found a place to cool off and let her mind wander -- until a final turn had her walk in on yet another insatiable couple.

The man stood against the ship's tall railing, with his daughter facing him, knees on the fence for support. He had a firm grasp on her plump ass, fingers digging into her soft skin, thrusting up hard and fast to drill the girl's spread pussy with the speed and power of someone about to cum -- and mere seconds after she'd first spotted them, Alana watched him pull her down with a groan and bust in her cunt.

By now, this wasn't an unusual sight. What really caught Alana's attention was the sound of the young woman's satisfied cry, the sight of her blonde ringlets. Even her figure. She recognised her.

When her father carefully helped her down to stand, spunk dripping from her used pussy, she turned and looked Alana in the eye. Alana gasped.

Milly and Sean Adler.

---

'She saw you?'

Sean nodded, with a smile. 'She's with Milly now. Looked pretty star-struck.'

'Yeah,' said Roger, uneasily. 'Alana's a big fan.'

Sean's smile grew wider, and he returned to browsing the pitches Roger had written for him. Roger, for his part, had seldom been this nervous. He didn't like waiting for his boss's thoughts on his work. He didn't like that Alana was hanging out with this strange man's daughter, alone. He didn't like the cruise. He didn't like the pent-up sexual frustration burning a hole in the crotch of his pants. And he didn't like the questions he was building himself up to ask.

Finally, Sean shuffled the pages in order and handed them back, looking Roger in the eye. 'I like these. All of 'em, actually, but I think the third and fourth are especially good. I can't say yes without talking to a couple people, you understand, but I can be persuasive when I wanna be.'

Roger blinked. After years of intermittent work, struggling to make ends meet, this was it ? As good as a greenlight for a few things he'd jotted down off the top of his head, simply because of this shared, dirty secret?

Sean extended a hand. He wanted to shake on it. A gentleman's agreement. Is

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Sean,' he said, 'why are we here ?'

---

Who 's been watching us?'

Milly smiled, with a little shrug. 'The same guys who buy the sex tapes dad and I make.'

There was an intense surreality to the whole situation. Alana, sitting beside her favorite Pop starlet, who was happily telling her the cabin they'd spent the past week in was decked out with hidden cameras, placed at the whim of some shadowy group of fatcats bankrolling a small but strong vein of depraved influencers. They organised this cruise, and had done so for decades. They blackmailed, enticed, and sometimes simply attracted people into debasing themselves for sick kicks.

'And -- and Erica's dad is part of their group? Yannis?'

'I think so. He's the one who hooked us.' Milly raised her eyebrows. 'But, like, I can't blame it all on him. My father's the one who suggested we invite you two.'

'But -- but why ?'

'You're beautiful. Roger's handsome. You're desperate.' The smile turned into a grin. 'And it's fun betting on whether you'll crack.'

Alana didn't know what to say to that. Through the sound of crashing waves, she could make out the noise of high-pitched ecstasy. Sex was inescapable here.

'This is ruining lives,' she managed, shaky.

Milly shrugged again. 'If you let it. Also opens up a lot of doors you might not expect, and I know that for a fact. Try talking to Daniela, sometime.'

'Daniela? Is -- did she get you and your dad into...?'

'Oh, no, that was Yannis,' Milly giggled. 'But he had a pretty easy set-up...'

---

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