Crazy Cruise trip with fathers

A door unlocking, and a giggle. Alana looked up from the paper to see a handsome middle-aged man at a cabin door, holding on to the handle of a rolling suitcase, with a bashful expression.

'Sorry I'm late, team. I promise I won't have too many meetings during --'

Before he could finish, two girls with perfect bodies in skimpy lace underwear rushed out and walked his back against the wall, making quick work of his button-up shirt.

Were both the girls his daughters, too? There was unmistakable lust in every movement, every flinch, every twitch. Just as the final button of his shirt popped open, the man reached down with both hands and grabbed a fistful of the girl's taut ass. She moaned, pressed into him, and when it was clear he was going to kiss her, Alana hurried to move past them, to escape this sick place --

When she turned the corner and looked down a dead-end hallway to see a man in a suit, facing the wall, almost totally covering up the girl he had pinned against the flat surface.

Alana watched slim arms around the back of his neck, toned, bare legs hooking around his thighs. He writhed like the waves carrying the boat, touching her as best he could while holding her up so their hips could move against each other, and all the while, the persistent wet sounds of lips and tongues made it clear they didn't stop kissing for a second.

A father and daughter, like horny teens at prom.

Alana's own lips itched. A rock weighed down the bottom of her stomach.

Almost back at the cabin.

She forced her legs to carry her further, to leave behind the sounds of incestuous eroticism, but she felt like they were echoing from every angle now. Men and women sighing, groaning, moaning, rustling fabric and skin against skin.

The door.

The closer she got to the door of the cabin she'd left behind in another lifetime, before she uncovered this perverse truth, the louder these noises became. But not from inside the room. From the stairwell just beyond.

Ignore it. Get back inside.

But she couldn't. So she walked a few steps on trembling legs and peered down the stairwell.

A girl a little older than herself reclined on the steps leading up from the floor below, trying her best to keep her eyes on the man feasting between her legs, involuntarily throwing her head back in bliss with a full-throated moan. Over her sounds of pleasure and panting breaths, Alana heard the masculine groans of what could only be the girl's father whenever he broke the seal of his mouth and her cunt, maybe to suck on her clit, to bathe her lips with his tongue.

The weight of anguish in Alana's stomach sunk deeper.

Tearing herself from the spectacle below, she rushed to the cabin door, and desperately turned the handle until the door pulled open from the inside, revealing Roger, wide-eyed.

'What the fuck is this place?!' Alana barked, shoving her way past him. She grabbed a lamp off the table under the flat-screen TV, ripping the cord out of the wall, and held it in front of herself like a weapon.

'I've been trying to call you!' said her father.

She spoke through gritted teeth, incandescent, shaking the heavy lamp clasped in her hands. 'Why the fuck did you bring me here?'

Roger flinched, held his hands up at chest level in a gesture of surrender. 'I'd never -- Alana, I didn't know--'

'Bullshit! You didn't know you booked us on some kind of fucking -- incest trip?!' The word tasted like bile, leaving her mouth.

'I didn't book us on anything! Sean handed me the tickets and a pamphlet and that's it!'

'And you didn't look it up before saying yes--'

'There wasn't anything online! The only info was what Sean gave me. I thought it was a -- some kind of exclusive rich people cruise, invite-only. And I guess it is.'

All the talk about discretion and the deliberate inability to contact the outside world made a lot more sense. This couldn't be legal. Alana was still on guard, but her hold on the lamp relaxed. Roger sighed, and let his eyes drop from his daughter's face.

'I thought it was a pity invite, 'cause I've been with Electric for so long. I thought…' he laughed, humourlessly, 'I thought he was gonna use this trip to fire me. I was expecting something bad. Just not some kind of sick orgy paid for by rich psychos.'

Alana could tell he was telling the truth. She tossed the lamp onto the fluffy duvet, where it bounced on the luxury mattress. The single, Queen-sized bed made sense now. No mistakes here.

'We didn't leave that long ago. Can they take us back?'

Roger shook his head. 'Seven days at sea. They won't turn around for two people who got roped in on accident. And you've seen how shady this whole thing is -- if we make a big deal out of it, they might figure out a way to shut us up. For good.'

A shiver ran down Alana's body. Worse places to get rid of a body than out on the open ocean. She hugged herself, running her slim fingers over her suddenly cold skin. 'Your boss's here too, right?'

'Yeah. Crew won't tell me where he's at. I'm gonna look for him so I can find out why he picked me for this fucked up "gift."' He rubbed his eyes. 'I guess all these creeps are gonna be busy with their own… with the girls they brought. Should be fine to leave the cabin.'

'Yeah. I think I'm gonna stay in until morning. This is, like, a lot.'

'You're telling me,' Roger said, with a chuckle. There wasn't anything to do but laugh. He picked the discarded lamp up off the bed and went to put it back in place, speaking all the while: 'I'll take the pillows out the closet and sleep on the floor, you get cosy.'

'Dad.'

Having plugged in the lamp, Roger faced her again. He looked tired, eyes red. Maybe he'd cried when he figured out where they were, scared of what she'd think -- and she had , she'd jumped to the worst possible conclusion. But he was her father. He'd never…

He'd never have sex with her.

Unbidden, the thought of what she'd seen on the stairs flashed through her mind, embroidering details she hadn't seen, building on the sounds of the man's tongue lapping against his daughter's sweet little pussy.

Some fathers did fuck their daughters.

Alana physically shook the memory off, blinked hard to thoroughly dissipate it, and looked at her sweet, dopey dad, who'd never even think of corrupting her.

'It's a big bed. We can share. It's okay.'

Roger looked uneasy. 'Are you sure, A.B.?'

She smiled. Alana Banana, or A.B. He only called her that when he was in trouble, nowadays, or when he wanted to butter her up.

'I'm sure. With what we know now, it seems kinda stupid to be stuck on a detail like that.' The smile turned into a grin. 'And I wouldn't want you to throw out your back, old man.'

Roger rolled his eyes, but his relief was obvious. She trusted him. And she really did -- but she still had the shyness of the teenager about her, so she dug her sleeping shirt and shorts out of her bag and shuffled off to the ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed.

The hot shower felt like a cleansing ritual. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she'd blink into another universe, on a normal holiday getaway. She squeezed her eyelids together until she saw spiralling patterns in the darkness, and opened them to find herself on the exact same ship, with all the exact same perversions.

Her hands slid over her glided body with ease, lubed by the bodywash, following her usual routine until she slid her fingers between her legs.

Where they hesitated.

The girl on the stairs had ecstasy etched onto every feature. Alana pictured her tensed hands, scrambling for purchase on the marble stairs. The slightest hint of powerful muscles beneath her father's thin button-up shirt as he wriggled, tasted her.

Horrified, Alana felt her slit throb against her hand, and hurried to hose off and step out of the shower to brush her teeth.

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