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Birth of the Rebellion.

Later on that night we're invited to a five-hour wedding cruise.

We've been sitting in the car in the parking lot kissing and touching, having arrived earlier in the evening - not knowing the travel time or the traffic on the route to the harbor, and not wanting to be late.

Now as we board, we're holding each other close and my hand moves heavily to trace the contours of your waist and your hips as your fingertips run gently over the muscles of my back. Upon crossing from the gangplank to the deck, you discreetly draw a quick line across the top of my butt cheek with your fingernails.

The youthful crowd gathers in the main cabin for the ceremony, now adroitly performed by the gentlemanly old captain. The rites proceed with a number of touching modifications to tradition; notably the bride and groom read aloud from small scrolls their personally crafted vows evidencing both romantic and erotic overtones.

The buoyant reception celebration begins with several clever and heartfelt toasts from those closest to the happy couple, and a light but delicious meal is served.

A little later, we're encouraged by the champagne and the warmth of the cabin to seek a little of the night air, and the water is smooth and glassy as it passes around the hull beneath the moon in the cool of the evening. The blue-white of the moonlight is enhanced by the yellowish twinkle of the delicate party lights braided though the rigging.

Touring the deck of the eighty-foot ship, we pass several other couples embracing and whispering quietly to each other, and we then find ourselves quite alone a little way from the bow on the starboard side. We turn toward each other and enjoy a long, champagne flavored kiss, our tongues playing sensuously as we feel each other's growing warmth through our clothing.

We walk a bit further and notice a comfortable booth in a sheltered alcove facing the water and the city lights in the distance, and we sit and hold each other close and share slow caresses. As we touch and our passion gradually builds, I reach beneath your long flowing gown and explore the curves of your sexy thighs and your shapely hips, with each pass gradually nearing your hungry cleft.

You allow a naughty smile to frame your lips and you lean to look both ways along the railing before opening the folds at the front of your gown and revealing your naked breasts to me for a moment and then deftly removing your panties and handing them to me beneath the table - whereupon I quickly stow them in my breastpocket. I then brush aside the cloth of the front of your gown again and bend and taste each of your nipples as I move beneath the lower cloth with my other hand to touch your sweet musky sex, and I find you're eagerly wet to the touch.

You move your fingers over my thighs and press against my firm swelling, feeling its heat through the wool and silk. I guide your thighs open beneath your gown and part your wetness with my fingertips, and then slide two of my fingers slowly all the way deep up into your slick tightness, and touch my thumb gently against your wet little button rubbing slowly from side to side. With the fingers of my other hand entwined in the hair at the back of your head, I pull your mouth onto my tongue. You let forth an urgent sigh of pleasure and begin to work to loose my shaft behind the floor-length tablecloth.

As my fingers slip gently in and out of you, and you softly stroke the length of my bare cock with very slow caressing passes up and down from the head to the curls, we are briefly interrupted by a muffled giggle.

We lean a little forward over the table and turn to see another couple leaning against the railing some distance away further aft. They are kissing and touching each other passionately and they are obviously quite unaware of our presence.

Secure in the knowledge that any further interruption of our sweet play will likely follow the warning of conversation from their quarter, we begin to pursue each other's pleasure more ardently.

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