[Day 4, Dec. 23 – The Ophelia Cruise Ship]
Dave Carter
Stepping out of the pool, water dripped down my body, tracing rivulets along my chest and abs before pooling around my feet. The cool evening air nipped at my damp skin, contrasting sharply with the heat still coursing through me.
Octavia lingered in my thoughts—her soft gasps, the way her body melted into mine—everything about her was seared into my mind.
Her innocence wasn’t just alluring; it was addictive.
But that innocence… It was baffling. How does a twenty-one-year-old not know what stroking or a blowjob means?
Has she been living under a rock?
Doesn’t she watch po*n or read those trashy, hot romance novels women seem obsessed with? The ones that practically drip with smut?
The entire event made me chuckle, a low, deep
