Trailing in the pungent, inescapable chlorine-scented wake of Danny, Candace reveled proudly in the jeers of passing housekeepers and couples within the claustrophobic corridor, most of whose female counterparts would have risked everything to be in her shoes in that moment. As the towering 6’2” Danny began to decelerate, Candace and Paul felt a surge of nervousness, realizing they were mere moments from reaching his room. Upon arrival at room 14594, Candace’s gaze once again fixated on Danny’s imposing Speedo while Paul silently prayed that she would snap out of her drunken haze, longing for the opportunity to walk away from this surreal situation, pretending it had all been nothing more than a bad dream.

Before they could even process what was happening, Candace and Paul stood nervously in the cramped foyer of Danny’s stateroom. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang, jolting them into the reality of their situation. The white noise of a desolate corridor was immediately replaced by a near silence and the faint sound of music from the 1970s disco party they had just passed through, penetrating the ceiling from the Lido deck immediately above. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife as what was previously supposed to have been an impossible fantasy was suddenly minutes away from becoming reality.

Things escalated when it became apparent that the time for pleasantries and small talk had been left in the Solarium bar above them. A creature of habit, Danny’s almost playfully immature demeanor completely changed, as if he had entered the professional headspace required for his industry. The nearly footlong fully-erect spandex-wrapped kielbasa that seemingly hadn’t moved since leaving the bar dominated the tiny stateroom as Danny began playfully dancing and shaking his hips to the faint sound of the disco song penetrating the ceiling from the party above.

Paul couldn’t tear his eyes away as Candace’s gaze remained fixed on Danny, as a fighter jet locked onto its target, while Danny whipped his hips side to side in perfect unison with ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” Gradually, as Danny neared Candace, Paul, a prominent figure in the legal world, sank further into despair, realizing that his real-world relevance meant nothing in that moment. He watched helplessly as his wife, whose actions mirrored those of a wasted college girl than those of one of the most respected litigators in Miami, engaged in an almost choreographed dance with Danny.

As the song reached its conclusion, casting a momentary hush over the room, Danny seized what would likely be his last exchange of the evening with Paul, a man for whom he seemed to harbor little respect. Perhaps it was Paul’s lack of participation in the process. Maybe it was his apparent willingness to give up his wife for something as silly as a hall pass. Or perhaps it could have been his generally passive nature. Whatever the reason, with a gesture, Danny motioned for Paul to take a seat in the small desk chair positioned near the foot of the queen-sized bed, the focal point of the stateroom’s confined space.

“Have a seat in that chair, lad,” Danny directed, leaving Paul no option but to comply.

Unaccustomed to taking orders, Paul hesitated before pulling the chair out and settling into it while Candace remained fully clothed near the small foyer. Meanwhile, Danny leisurely approached the foot of the bed. With a simple gesture of his index finger, a devoted mother and wife passed by her utterly distraught husband as if he hadn’t even been there, making her way toward Danny. As the music from the Lido deck once again seeped through the stateroom ceiling, Danny placed his hands on Candace’s toned, bare, freckled shoulders. With a strategic turn of their bodies, almost as if Paul were merely a camera filming a scene, Danny applied gentle pressure, prompting her to drop to her knees before him willingly.

Candace finally came face to face with the eleven-inch spandex-wrapped monster that had consumed her life over the past year. Still damp from the overchlorinated hot tub, the spandex served as the only barrier between a year-long fantasy and Paul’s worst nightmare, as an uncontrollable “fuck” slipped past her lips. Any semblance of concern for Paul’s feelings was now a distant memory as a hormone-raged Candace, barely recognizable, studied the cock she had practically memorized, down to its vein pattern, through the spandex barrier.

Despite her initial hesitation, Candace found her arms lifting almost on their own accord. Pausing momentarily, she hesitated before extending her hand to touch what would be only the second man in her life. Any doubts about Danny’s size, fueled by online theories suggesting camera angles made him appear larger than reality, were swiftly dispelled as Candace ran her tiny hands along an impressive shaft that seemed to stretch endlessly before tapering off at his hip. At its apex was a pre-cum spot the size of a silver dollar, marking the presence of the gigantic mushroom tip she had previously watched torrents of semen spurt out of onto some of the most beautiful women on the planet.

Struggling to process the almost hysterical contrast between Danny’s massive salami and the petite frame of Candace, Paul felt himself sinking deeper into a somber abyss as Candace clumsily massaged the freak of nature standing over her through his banana-colored Speedo. With almost a primal urge, she leaned in closer, inhaling the scent of him, her nose grazing the chlorine-soaked spandex as she indulged the proximity of his gift. As Candace continued to worshipfully engage with Danny through the spandex, he delicately grasped both straps of her blue tank top, lifting them off her toned shoulder traps with a subtle suggestion that it was time for her to remove it.

As Candace began to remove her tank top, her fingers hesitated as a flush of embarrassment swept over her freckled cheeks while suddenly remembering the beige-colored Target-branded bra that lay underneath. Between sharing a room with their eighteen-year-old daughter and a love life now dependent on porn to function, Candace hadn’t even considered packing anything remotely sexy for the cruise, knowing it would be passionless.

Candace tentatively clutched the edges of a weathered tank top, more suited for gardening than enticing one of the most renowned porn stars in the world. Her fingers hesitated on the fabric before delicately pulling it over her head, exposing a modest beige bra strained against her gigantic C-cupped freckled covered tits, seemingly too large for her petite frame.

“Holy shit, those are amazing!” Danny said, looking down at Candace’s budget-bra-encased breasts.

As Candace eagerly resumed her approach toward a Speedo about to burst at its seams, Danny playfully intercepted her hands, guiding them to his hips with an almost evil grin. Pausing briefly, Candace hesitated before grasping the Speedo’s sides as if acknowledging a fleeting moment of innocence soon to be lost. Paul, terrified, watched from the desk chair as Candace slowly unveiled her spandex-wrapped gift, resembling the revealing of a long-awaited present waiting to be torn open on Christmas morning. She narrowly avoided being slapped across the face by Danny’s spring-loaded banana, released from its bright yellow packaging. Before the Speedo could hit the ground, Danny playfully kicked it towards Paul, landing between his feet.

A mental archive of hundreds of video clips hadn’t been enough to prepare either Candace or Paul for Danny’s sheer size. The contrast between the eleven-inch salami, resembling something crafted in a science lab, and Candace’s petite 4’10” frame made Paul sink even deeper into despair. Two and a half decades of marital bond couldn’t mask the shock and awe on Candace’s face as she took in her first unobstructed view of the monster, which looked even more impressive in person than it had online.

Shaking off a final bout of hesitancy, Candace moved towards Danny’s engorged, pre-cum-coated mushroom, resembling a skin-toned Darth Vader helmet. Her jaws began to open wide like an anaconda about to devour its prey. Time seemed to stand still as she made her final descent toward the world-famous sausage she and Paul had watched vanish into hundreds of the most stunning orifices in the world. As her outstretched jaws finally made contact with Danny’s swollen mushroom, he let out a long, satisfied, grunting sigh of relief as if to verbally acknowledge her milestone while taunting Paul in the process.

Struggling to process the sights and sounds, Paul watched in disbelief as his formerly innocent spouse audibly slurped on another man, whose physical superiority was evident in every aspect.  Paul could only look on in shock as Candace began to display a passion for Danny that surpassed anything he had ever witnessed. The stateroom filled with orgasmic moans as Candace explored sensations beyond the limits of television. Typically repulsed by the mere thought of it, she found herself captivated by the taste of Danny’s pre-cum, far more enticing than anything she had experienced with her own husband, as it accumulated on the tip of his enormous meat helmet. Danny’s essence, a product of a well-tuned machine that had been built by the porn industry, was unexpectedly delicious, transforming her aversion to the taste of semen into a newfound appreciation.

As the infectious rhythm of “Disco Inferno” reverberated through the ceiling, Candace’s petite hands maintained their grip on Danny’s engorged shaft. Each worshipful stroke matched the beat perfectly. As if her physical assault on Danny’s God-given gift weren’t enough, she began to verbally worship him whenever she surfaced for air.  Paul looked on, his despair growing as he watched Candace, clearly in love with Danny’s cock, confess that she couldn’t believe women got paid to do this.

Danny visibly responded to an amateur's raw, uninhibited passion, a stark contrast to the disingenuous professionals he was used to. This reaction unleashed a primal side of Candace. With newfound intensity, she gripped Danny’s nearly footlong kielbasa with both hands, leaving a good five inches of excess shaft still protruding past her tiny grip. In sporadic moments, she would release one hand from his shaft to fondle his testicles, the factory responsible for the production of the addictive pre-cum she had become hooked on. In the throes of passion, she seemed to morph into an animal, the sheer size of the excess shaft alone rivaling Paul in his most aroused state.

Danny’s familiar moans filled the room while Paul watched in tense silence as Candace’s outstretched jaws clung tightly to his gigantic mushroom, hungrily savoring every droplet of delicious pre-cum that seeped out of him with each stroke. As if she understood this moment to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Candace’s intense slurping conveyed a deep-seated fear of missing out. Paul observed as Danny, seemingly unfazed, began to employ his professional expertise, enduring a relentless cock milking with a resilience that would have brought lesser men to climax twice over by now.

As Candace approached the twenty-minute mark of her oral assault on Danny, the confined stateroom buzzed with an impending shift in momentum. A surge of tension filled the air as her previously steadfast jaws began to struggle with Danny’s substantial sausage, and her vigorous dual-handed milking motion gradually lost its pace. Paul’s anxious reflection on the evening’s inevitable next phase was abruptly halted by a loud, slurping pop. Danny had forcefully withdrawn his saliva and pre-cum-coated member from Candace’s outstretched jaws, prompting a shared laugh between them. Paul’s worst nightmare was about to materialize as Danny began helping Candace to her feet, prompting her to eagerly discard her shorts and expose the beige Target-brand granny panties she had seemingly forgotten about in the heat of the moment.

With a playful shove, Danny sent Candace, clad in bargain-bin underwear, tumbling onto the queen-sized bed. Nervously, she settled on her back, looking up at Danny with a blend of anticipation and uncertainty. From this angle, she couldn’t help but feel a strange connection with the countless porn stars she had one day envisioned swapping places with.  Paul’s restricted viewpoint, limited to Danny’s bare ass, was abruptly jolted as Candace’s granny panties were flung from the bed, striking his leg before settling atop Danny’s chlorine-soaked Speedo.

Paul, distracted by his wife’s clearance rack panties, which bore evidence of an orgasm achieved without contact and appeared as if they could have been wrung out to dry, was unable to make out the conversation between Danny and Candace on the bed. To his unbeknownst, Candace had just carelessly consented to forgo protection, trusting Danny’s verbal assurance of prior testing that had already taken place before next week’s engagement in Miami.

As Paul tried to decipher the dialog between Danny and Candace, he watched as Candace’s legs gradually emerged from the sides of Danny’s body. Before long, the audible sound of Danny’s famed cock helmet playfully slapping against Candace’s clit began to drown out the faint music coming through the ceiling. Aware of his obstructed view, Danny turned toward Paul with the same taunting index-finger gesture that had brought Candace to her knees a mere twenty minutes ago, prompting Paul to hesitantly get up from the desk chair and begin approaching the bed.

Arriving at the bedside, it appeared as if Candace had momentarily overlooked her husband’s presence, exchanging a swift glance with Paul before her attention returned to Danny in full. Paul, feeling a hint of dismay, took in the striking contrast in anatomy between the two from his elevated vantage point. With playful confidence, Danny teased his eleven-inch salami against Candace’s chiseled, freckled, eight-pack abdomen, the visual display serving as a bold, intimidating declaration of his dominance, carving itself deeply into Paul’s memory.

A mixture of moans and giggles continued to mentally break Paul as he stood by, feeling all but powerless. Danny’s playful antics, forming a bridge of pre-cum between Candace’s clit and the tip of his gigantic penis, elicited mischievous groans from them both whenever the sticky bridge collapsed. The red stubble dotting Candace’s typically smooth pubic region, grown out in anticipation of a sexless vacation, served as a visual reminder of the unexpected absurdity of that evening. Paul couldn’t shake the feeling of emasculation, still reeling from Candace’s decision to move forward without protection, especially given the history of Danny’s encounters with countless porn stars. He simmered with anger, not only because he hadn’t been consulted but also because it seemed like their intimacy and his role in their relationship had been sidelined.

Danny, who had again begun to display signs of jovial immaturity, seamlessly transitioned back into a solemn demeanor akin to someone stepping into a professional setting. It was as though he could sense Paul’s simmering frustration, and almost tauntingly, he began to press the girthy pre-cum soaked tip of his gigantic wiener against the entrance of a vagina previously untouched by another man.

“Are you ready?” Danny said with a wry smile while looking down at Candace.

A hesitant acknowledgment of a rhetorical question went ignored as Danny’s engorged mushroom gradually breached Candace, prompting a caveman-like grunt unlike anything Paul had ever heard throughout their twenty-five years of marriage.

“Oh fuck!” Candace screamed.

Primal sounds filled the air as Danny plunged into Candace like a skilled plumber, withdrawing and reinserting the tip of his gigantic sausage with playful precision. The rhythmic motion was perfectly synchronized with the faint beat of “Macho Man” by the Village People permeating the ceiling above. Despite just an inch of penetration, Candace, her most remarkable feature still surprisingly concealed in a beige Target-branded bra, effectively reverted to a state of virginity as Danny’s skillful maneuvering prevented her from adapting to a monstrous girth nearly double that of Paul.

Paul’s stomach stirred as he stood frozen, unable to turn away from the sight of Danny giddily savoring the genuine reaction of an amateur unaccustomed to handling his renowned sausage without pay or training. A once playful, plunging-type motion abruptly ceased as Danny left his swollen mushroom lodged inside a now-squirming Candace. Paul, subconsciously bewildered as to why Danny hadn’t expressed any interest in seeing his wife’s greatest asset, observed from above as Danny gradually began to push against the unfamiliar resistance of a bra-clad woman who hadn’t been accustomed to a real man.

Primitive grunts filled the stateroom as Danny’s girthy kielbasa began to gradually disappear inside of Candace, marked by the ring of pussy juice incrementally making its way up his meaty shaft with each pump. It was almost as if she had secretly informed Danny of Paul’s below-average manhood. Danny acted more like a mechanic, professionally calibrating himself to a five-inch depth Candace had been accustomed to, rhythmically fucking her in almost perfect synchronization to the main section of “Macho Man” with robotic efficiency.

“Fuck! No! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh my God!” Candace screamed.

Barely half a minute had elapsed since the start of a professional-level fucking, perfectly synchronized to the beat of a Village People classic, when Paul detected an unmistakable expression abruptly come across Candace’s flushed face, now mirroring her fiery red hair. Such a reaction from Candace, if it had even occurred at all, previously took Paul a full hour to evoke, even in his prime.

Once more, time seemed to stand still for Paul as he looked down at his screaming wife, who, now incapable of forming a coherent sentence, descended into a state of utter chaos. A thunderous grunt, perfectly synchronized with the tightening of the freckle-covered, meticulously sculpted abs Candace had worked so hard for, coincided with the release of a long-repressed, milky translucent orgasm, now adorning the front half of Danny’s enormous kielbasa.

Uttering incoherent sounds as if inventing a new language, Candace clutched the sheets with a vice-like grip. Her tiny hands were white-knuckled, desperately trying to endure the powerful release engulfing her. Meanwhile, Danny, completely undistracted and seemingly mission-bound, maintained his focus with unwavering determination as the five-inch ring of juice encircling his gigantic sausage suddenly began to extend itself.

Chaos ensued as Candace’s reaction to Danny, now reaching unexplored depths, was almost too much for Paul to endure. Already reduced to a shell of his former self, he knew he couldn’t intervene, yet he also couldn’t continue watching. Overwhelmed, Paul retreated to the desk chair, burying his head in his hands. Despite his best attempts to shield himself, he couldn’t help but sneak glimpses, witnessing the unyielding, mechanical motion of Danny’s bare ass pummeling Candace as if being directed during a professional scene.

Amidst Candace’s echoing screams in the stateroom, the faint transition from “Macho Man” to “YMCA” coming through the ceiling suddenly reminded Paul of his daughter, fresh off her eighteenth birthday, likely dancing with a random guy on the Lido deck just ten feet above them while Danny simultaneously excavated her mother to the rhythm of one of her favorite childhood songs. Paul couldn’t help but wonder if what was happening to Candace was somehow DNA-related, with Melissa eventually meeting the same fate as her mother while her eventual husband looked on.

Paul’s fleeting concern for their daughter’s well-being was abruptly interrupted by another caveman-like grunt emanating from the bed as Danny shifted his position as if Paul were a director filming a missionary scene from behind a camera. Paul, still reeling from the fact that Danny had been in the process of effortlessly extracting the second orgasm from his neglected wife in as many minutes, became horrified to realize he had done so with nearly a half-foot of salami still in the reserve tank, as evidenced by his swinging, semen-filled testicles nowhere close to making contact with Candace.

As Candace gasped for breath, Paul watched while Danny maintained an unyielding rhythm, as if each climax had somehow been a dare to penetrate deeper. The thick aluminum walls of the stateroom strained to muffle screams that had suddenly taken on a new intensity, reflecting Candace’s struggle to accommodate what was now eight inches of porn star sausage being relentlessly driven into her like a well-lubed piston into a cylinder.

Paul, hands still covering his face, had already come to the sobering realization that he could never look at Candace with the same respect and innocence as he had just an hour prior. His brief optimism that things might revert to normal after this ordeal had abruptly shattered with the sudden, indescribable sounds coming from the bed, a blend of masculine grunts and pleasurable screams. Forced to look up now, Paul quickly identified the source of Candace’s unrelenting noises. The entirety of Danny’s eleven-inch kielbasa was now rhythmically disappearing and reappearing, perfectly synchronized with the beat of the Village People’s hit penetrating the ceiling. The relentless motions had not only driven Candace to the brink of brain damage-inducing insanity but also elicited noises Paul never knew could come from a human being.

With primal instinct surging through him, Paul felt a need to ensure his wife’s well-being. Rising urgently from his seat, he retraced his steps back to where he had stood just moments before. Abnormal screams, once muffled by Danny’s body, echoed louder as Paul glanced down at Candace, now unexpectedly without her bra, appearing as if she had just emerged from a sauna. Paul’s hope for any return to normalcy after this evening was precariously close to shattering as he took in the sight of Candace’s naturally formed, freckled-covered C-cup tits, their large, sliver dollar-sized pancake areolas prominently displayed. They bounced in rhythm with Danny’s relentless movements, a disturbing image Paul would never be able to erase from his memory.

As if scripted by cruel irony, the Village People classic seamlessly transitioned into the timeless “We Are Family” anthem. Meanwhile, Danny, seemingly oblivious to Candace’s anguished screams, continued to mechanically drive the entire length of his eleven-inch hot dog inside of her as if he had taken a perverse pleasure in dismantling the very essence of her being in front of her broken husband. Once a symbol of refinement and achievement, an Ivy League graduate, devoted wife, and nurturing mother had been reduced to a blubbering, profusely sweaty, tangled, red-headed, disheveled mess more akin to someone you might see on a “People of Walmart” website than in a courtroom in Miami.

Trapped in what felt like an unending nightmare, Paul found himself surrounded by Candace's escalating screams, their intensity threatening to pierce the ceiling if not for the blaring music above, muting their impact. Despite the looming possibility of a concerned Royal Caribbean attendant knocking on the door to ensure their well-being, Danny remained unrelenting, driven by an instinct devoid of human emotion. Oblivious to the physical and emotional havoc he was wreaking, Danny leaned in to passionately lock lips with Candace, attempting to silence her exhilarated cries the best way he knew how triggering a surge of uncontrollable rage and despair within Paul as he watched their marriage begin to crumble before his eyes.

As their bodies pressed together, Danny skillfully maintained his balance atop Candace’s sweat-soaked body, his pelvis driving into her as if possessed by some demonic force. In blatant disregard for what Paul had assumed was an unspoken cardinal rule of their hall pass, Candace instinctively joined the intimate make-out session, almost out of a necessity to cope with the physical intensity her body was enduring. For a fleeting moment, Paul, a typically non-violent, entertained the fantasy of forcibly removing Danny from Candace and rendering him unconscious. However, his brief contemplation was drowned out by the chaos of orgasmic screams and the sounds of bodily fluids oozing from every orifice.

In an instant, a shift engulfed them as the muffled sounds passing between their intertwined tongues caught Danny’s attention. Reacting quickly, he raised himself off Candace’s sweat-soaked trunk, noting the distinct change in noises now coming out of her. Undeterred, he maintained a relentless rhythm as if he were a fucking machine equivalent of a Terminator sent back in time to deliver orgasmic pleasure.

“I’m gonna c…. I’m gonna cu….,” Candace incoherently screamed at the top of her lungs, struggling to complete a sentence.

As Candace lay there, almost in a state of complete vegetation, Paul became temporarily distracted by the minor heat rash that had formed between her enormous, freckle-covered boobs from their previous body-to-body contact. A look of concern crossed Candace’s beet-red face, stealing Paul’s attention as if she sensed a new and unfamiliar sensation, her confusion evident in her expression.

Danny’s gigantic wiener suddenly exited Candace, almost as if it had been forcefully expelled. Candace’s impeccably sculpted abs tensed, revealing the well-defined eight-pack beneath her freckled, glistening, sweat-soaked belly. Once more, she tightly gripped the sheets, her grasp unyielding, as a profound, almost growling utterance escaped her lips, coinciding with the onset of a novel and intense orgasmic sensation, a feeling that left Candace nearly worried in its unfamiliarity.

“Fuck!” Candace grunted, drawing the word out in a deep, masculine tone.

Danny’s eleven-inch presence seemed to awaken a primal force within Candace as if a dormant volcano had suddenly erupted after forty-six years of slumber. Her body convulsed in response, and with a deep, guttural grunt, a sudden surge of fluid erupted from between her quivering thighs, striking Danny on his stomach, still coated with the sweaty sheen of their intimate contact.

A horrified Paul looked on at Candace as the vascular eight-pack momentarily contracted in a split second of relaxation before swiftly reappearing, in unison with another growl, as a second surge of fluid fired from her loins onto Danny, appearing more like a scene out of an Exorcist movie than anything Paul had ever experienced before.

Candace’s body convulsed several more times, producing sights and audible noises Paul could never unsee or unhear as long as he lived, as if a lifetime’s reservoir of pleasure had finally been unleashed, covering Danny’s entire torso with the opaque spray of her orgasm. Mentally and physically broken, Paul watched as Candace’s limp form sank into the bed in a state of utter exhaustion and satisfaction.

Just as the evening seemed to reach its natural conclusion, Paul was suddenly reminded of the elephant in the room as Danny began to climb Candace like a horizontal ladder, straddling her and settling onto the rock-hard surface of her glistening abs, ready to indulge in his own satisfaction. The entirety of Danny’s eleven-inch wiener now rested against Candace’s torso, extending just short of her lips through the valley of her glistening, sweat-drenched tits.

Paul, immobilized by a blend of shock and fury, watched as Candace lay there, her head tilted at a precise 45-degree angle against a pillow that seemed almost intentionally placed for this exact moment. Once consumed by unquenchable lust, Candace now experienced a brief lapse of desire, a common aftermath of a volcanic-like orgasm. However, her momentary loss of lust was swiftly replaced by a renewed wave of desire as Danny’s colossal mushroom began to emerge from between her still-glistening breasts, perfectly synchronized with the music penetrating the ceiling. Denise’s mouth began to open involuntarily, ready to accept Danny’s cock each time it emerged through the valley of her tits.

As Candace’s senses were reawakened by the taste of Danny’s pre-cum, so enticing it could have been sold on the black market to adoring fans, a familiar, focused intensity returned to Danny’s face. It became immediately apparent that the frictionless surface created by the array of juices pooled between Candace’s messy breasts had made it nearly impossible for a performer even of Danny’s stature to climax. Abruptly withdrawing his gigantic wiener from between Candace’s slippery chest, Danny shifted his position, rising to his knees and moving off her rock-hard abs, straddling her body from above.

Paul watched with a numb resignation as Danny began stroking his kielbasa with the cadence of a professional following a script, showing zero regard for the target before him, a scene that had become all too familiar to both of them. As Paul looked on, his life flashed before his eyes: the all-night study sessions at Brown during undergrad and law school, the hours Candace spent at the gym sculpting her fitness-model-like body, the pride in successfully raising Melissa, and the accomplishment of making partner at her law firm in her mid-forties. None of it seemed to matter to Danny, who, at that moment, appeared as an emotionless machine created by the porn industry, wearing the arrogant smirk of someone who regarded Candace as the fortunate one in this situation. To Danny, Paul’s bride had become a mere receptacle for one of his world-famous cum shots rather than the accomplished and respectable individual she had been in the real world.

Gazing into the eye of an oozing mushroom still glistening with an orgasmic sheen, Candace braced herself for Danny’s inevitable release. Historically repulsed by semen, she flashed back to the countless videos she had all but memorized, mentally and physically preparing herself for one of the most impressive loads the porn industry had to offer. From his vantage point, Paul slowly scanned the bed, starting at Candace’s feet, then moving up to her now ruined vagina, past her sculpted abs, to Danny. There he was, propped up on his knees with his buttocks resting on Candace’s breasts, fervently jerking off almost as if she weren’t even there.

Without warning, an infamous grunt, well-known to both Paul and Candace, was immediately followed by a rope of sperm firing from the tip of Danny’s enormous meat helmet with rocket-like velocity. The first shot struck Candace on the threshold of her freckled forehead and messy red hair before ricocheting onto the aluminum stateroom wall. Like a sniper adjusting his aim, Danny quickly recalibrated, sending an equally powerful sperm rocket into Candace’s right eye, causing her head to thrust back into the pillow. As her head rebounded, another loud grunt accompanied a third rope, this time firing directly into her left eye, the shock causing her mouth to open involuntarily.

Danny’s ample testicles swiftly refilled his urethra, launching yet another forceful shot right through the bullseye of Candace’s open mouth, striking the back of her throat. Paul watched as his wife’s face suddenly transformed into a canvas reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock masterpiece created from semen instead of paint. As Danny leaned closer, he positioned his meat helmet precisely against Candace’s open mouth, ensuring no drop of his liquid gold went to waste. Candace, still recovering from the shock of having both eyes sealed shut by the glue of Danny’s world-famous cock, began to panic as her mouth filled like a human shot glass with an entrée-sized portion of porn star spunk, teetering on the brink of overflow.

Physically and mentally shattered, Paul looked on as a moaning Danny carefully emptied the remains of his diminishing reservoir into Candace’s mouth with the precision of a sperm donor depositing into a cup. With his testicles now depleted, Danny concluded with the signature whipping motion of his wiener as if to expel any leftover semen still lodged in the exit hole of his helmet. Meanwhile, aided by the angle of the pillow, Candace’s mouth began to overflow at its corners, droplets tracing down her chin and onto her neck, prompting a swift decision.

Swallowing semen had always been a repulsive notion to Candace, a feeling reinforced by her encounters with Paul, whose taste had been downright unappealing, especially as he neglected his health. However, Danny, a seasoned veteran of the porn industry, had mastered the art of controlling his flavor, akin to a skilled chemist concocting a potion. It seemed as though he was wired differently. The pre-cum appetizer that had triggered a contact-less orgasm for Candace just half an hour earlier had now transformed into a full-course entrée, ready for consumption. Still partially blinded by the aftermath of two perfectly executed cum shots, Candace remained oblivious to the anguish on Paul’s face as her throat moved almost instinctively, signaling her eager acceptance of Danny’s essence.

Much like a novice drinker braving their first shot, Candace, resembling the star of a bukkake scene, cautiously began to ingest Danny’s load with measured swallows. Paul subconsciously tracked the slow descent of Danny’s semen from her mouth, down her throat, and into her muscle-wrapped belly with each audible gulp.  Meanwhile, Danny's hands, confidently on his hips, flashed his signature arrogant smirk while looking down at Candace, who was grinning as she finished consuming his remains without the reward of a paycheck.

“Grab a towel, mate,” Danny impatiently snapped, turning toward Paul.

Shaking off a brief moment of paralysis, Paul hesitantly complied with Danny’s seemingly straightforward order. Each step toward the bathroom was accompanied by a growing sense of unease, knowing that Candace’s cum-soaked face awaited his return to the bedside for cleaning. Inside, he swiftly retrieved a white hand towel adorned with the Royal Caribbean logo, fully aware of the task at hand. After composing himself, Paul returned to the bed, the towel clenched tightly in his grasp.

“Thanks, mate,” Danny said, snatching the towel from Paul’s hand.

In a breach of etiquette, Danny, accustomed to the protocols of professional shoots, wiped the tip of his wiener before handing the towel to Candace as he dismounted from her torso, silently implying she clean herself up, reminiscent of a seasoned porn star preparing to depart after a shoot. Paul’s gaze, brimming with anger, remained fixed on his wife as she reluctantly began the humiliating task of wiping away the mess left on her face by Danny’s sizable sausage with a cheap cruise ship towel, which only seemed to smear rather than cleanse. The uncomfortable moment, which should have already transitioned from one fueled by desire to one shadowed by regret, stubbornly lingered as Candace’s smirk suggested a twisted pride in the semen-smeared mask she wore.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny said, making his way toward the bathroom.

With Danny momentarily out of the picture, Candace and Paul found themselves alone for the first time since their arrival at the Solarium bar just an hour and a half ago. With the bathroom door slamming shut, Candace, still in the midst of wiping her face, suddenly confronted the stark reality of what had just unfolded. She was surprised by her lack of guilt, a realization that caught her off guard. The absence of remorse puzzled her, especially as she noticed the mixed anger and hurt on Paul’s face for the first time that evening. Memories of unwritten rules shattered, and the potential breach of their marital trust was overshadowed by the intensity of the life-altering sex that had just occurred, seemingly as if Candace’s consciousness had been embedded in the squirting orgasm that Danny had elicited from her, both physically and mentally transforming her into a new person.

As the vacuum-like flush subsided and the bathroom door creaked open, Danny emerged once more, still nude. The tension between Candace and Paul was palpable. Danny’s flaccid 6-inch member dangled between his legs, a final, spiteful gesture from a man who had inadvertently shattered a marriage, leaving Candace questioning if she could ever derive pleasure from an ordinary man again.

“Thanks, guys, that was fun!” Danny said, smiling.

With Danny’s essence still lingering on her face, Candace awkwardly scooted to the foot of the bed. Adept at reading the room, Danny chose not to suggest a desperately needed shower to a disheveled Candace, who nearly collapsed as she tried to find her balance on wobbly legs, resembling a boxer staggering after a brutal uppercut. Regaining her balance, Candace headed toward the pile of clothes carelessly deposited at Paul’s feet not long ago. She first slipped into her budget-friendly granny panties, wincing at the sensation of the soaked fabric, which had been stewing in her orgasmic juices for the past hour. Next, she pulled on her black shorts and retrieved her bra from the bed, where it had come off earlier. With quick, practiced movements, she fastened the bra, picked up her crumpled blue tank top from the ground, and finally tugged it over her head, transforming back into a messy version of the confident woman who had entered the room an hour ago.

Once again, in the cramped foyer, occupying the same space they had just an hour earlier, Paul’s hand found the handle of the weighty stateroom door. Its heft seemed to echo the weight of the events that had unfolded within. Meanwhile, Candace’s gaze remained fixed on the flaccid kielbasa hanging between Danny’s legs, a tangible reminder of the life-altering experience she had just undergone. The heavy thud of the door sealing behind them likely marked the symbolic end of their twenty-five-year marriage. As Candace and Paul treaded in silence towards their room, grappling with their thoughts, they knew they would still have to maintain appearances for Melissa. With six more days left on the ship, Candace pondered if this spelled the end for her and Danny.