Healing Cuddle Sleep

Jimmy’s Buffet employee Caryn Aboutu hated to play the role of enforcer, given how it was outside her friendly, accommodating nature which got her into the ship’s Food & Beverage department in the first place. With a deep breath, she girded herself and approached a table with some of the fattest people (all women) she’d ever seen, including one obviously sleeping woman who looked vaguely familiar to her. “Excuse me, folks” she tried to chirp, “We’re now over 4 seatings past your table booking, and it’s getting on towards lunchtime. Please pretty please, may we free this table for others?”

Those awake at the table looked amongst one another.

“So you’re saying we can’t just cruise right on through into lunch, since some of us are still eating?”

Caryn tensed up, wishing she could be doing something more pleasant. “We’re limited on seating, and we really really need to make room for others who signed up and are waiting.”

“I’m ready to go” said Rebecca. “You’re the only one still eating, Beryl. Let’s do it, Per” she suggested, leading him by the hand as she hefted her massiveness up.

“Last call for now on a wonderful celebratory O-R-G–”

“–No!” Rebecca interrupted Beryl. “Not us at least. Thank you all for everything. Let’s plan the next meal get-together in advance, next time there’s table space for us all.”

“Bye Rebecca! Bye Per!” those awake at the table said in different moments with varied precise wording. Fast asleep Jayne was not one of them.

Clark looked towards Caryn (whose name he could see on her name tag) with a pained expression not unlike her own. “I totally agree we should release this table for others. I’m concerned about the best way to wake up Jayne, leaning into me. She hasn’t slept for over 2 weeks until now, and I’m concerned about her health.”

“An air horn oughta work. Your device or mine?”

Now was Clark’s turn to elbow-jab his cruise wife.

“We’ll all be outta here within 5 minutes, hun” Beryl assured Caryn.

“Please.”

“We will.”

Partly relieved, partly with residual trepidation, Caryn took off.

“Jayne…” Clark tried to gently wake her.

“Uuuuh?” she softly peeped.

“Breakfast is over. We need to clear the table so others can use it.”

Her sad “Uuunnn” along with nuzzling deeper back into Clark’s shoulder/side strongly hinted that she wasn’t ready to deal with waking up just yet, much less parting.

The 3 awake table occupants fell into a heated discussion regarding how to proceed, which amazingly didn’t further wake up Jayne… or if it did, she pretended to still be asleep.

The discussion continued all the way to the present, as the group walked the inner hall of the Upper Promenade deck towards Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom.

“She has her own bed in her own cabin” Leigh ranted to Beryl over her shoulder, leading the group. “Why can’t she go sleep in it?!”

“Because it’s a trauma scene of tragedy for her.”

Besides needing to look forward to avoid crashing into anything, looking directly at Beryl’s giantly fat bouncing body and especially her huge boobs from close proximity added queasiness to Leigh’s anger.

“She suffered through COVID-19 alone there, I’m wagering. For sure her beloved parrot died there. Clark’s analogy of an overly-discharged battery irrecoverably dying seems apt.”

“She survived COVID-19!”

“Shhhhh!” Clark, behind Beryl, shushed his cruise wife, steadying barely-awake Jayne steadfastly cuddled into his side like a super-amorous clingy lover.

“Yes, and there are other illnesses on board, we can be sure, and her immune system and the rest of her is in dire need of sleep. What’s the harm of letting her sleep a few more hours cuddled into Clark to get her out of the danger zone, before sending her back off to her own life?”

“I’m losing intimate alone time with him!”

“Let’s talk about it some more once we’re inside in private. I still want to see your two’s stateroom, and any of us can always change course at any time, such as if she more fully wakes up.”

{Must sleep, so I can have soothing human cuddles and affectionate love!}

“Keep going, Jayne” Clark softly urged her. “We’re almost there.”

“Oooh!” Beryl softly exclaimed upon her first sight of the interior of Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom. “Very nice! Not very spacious, but if that’s one of the patio balconettes on the other side of the curtains, the view likely rocks.”

“Plenty of space for the two of us who occupy this stateroom” Leigh acidly noted.

“Please, Leigh: our ship’s DJ who selected and played the music that helped you and Clark dance into each other’s hearts to the point of doing your cruise marriage thing needs more quality sleep. I remind you we are all on Team Succulence together. In a few hours she’ll go back to her stateroom or cabin or whatever better rested, I’ll head back to my stateroom, and it’ll once again be you and Clark in here on your own doing your thing. I’ll leave now if you prefer, though I relish the opportunity to get to know you better as a friend, with or without actual relish in my mouth at this time, tasty as it would be.”

“I do not feel good about another woman being intimate with my man on his and my cloud bed.”

“Cloud bed! Love it!” she briefly chuckled. “These are great beds, for sure. Their clothes remain on; they’re cuddling. By all means go cuddle up to him on his free side if you feel the need and I’ll pull up a chair so we can chat softly.”

“Think that desk chair can hold you?”

She studied it. “Mmmmm… maybe not. I’ll grab one from the patio if those are sturdier and armless.”

“Armless yes, sturdier no” Clark advised.

“Hhhhhhhhh” Leigh sighed. “I give up.” Clamping one hand onto each of one of Clark’s and Jayne’s upper arms, she addressed them, “Please keep it to platonic sleep cuddles, lest you want me jealously raging. Sleep deep, Jayne: I’m not likely to be OK with this continuing. Let’s go crush the couch, Beryl.”

Clark was just as glad Leigh was facing away from him, unable to see his nearly-painful strong boner from the intimate lying-on-bed cuddle he was sharing with Jayne as Little Spoon, with her as cuddly sleepy Big Spoon. She truly meant to be sleeping and platonic affectionate. The problem remained that her sexy had no Off switch, as ever in her life: her big warm boobs against his back did things to him beyond his head brain’s direct control.

Over a slight distance on the couch, Beryl commented as she and Leigh sat down together, “Hmmm, it’s holding us without creaking. Nice. You OK with some unavoidable physically intimate contact, due to each of our spectacular plushness?”

“It is what it is. I’m tired of fighting everything and everyone.”

“Why do we have to be fighting, Leigh? Aren’t we on the same team?”

“In some ways yes and in some ways no. We’re both SSBBW, or I guess you’re ultrasized, depending on the definition. We both love food—that we have in common for sure. You love being fat to a level I struggle to fathom, especially living as you do that way full-time, I take it.”

“I’m all-in joyously living in the fattest body I can manage, ever-more excited and happy the fatter I get.”

“I can’t handle that in my everyday life, and by no means am I currently as big and fat as I’ve previously been.”

“Keeping it a secret?” she whispered back, to Leigh’s soft-spoken ending.

Leigh nodded. “Even at this level, this is far beyond where I’d intended to take things on this voyage, before the world changed forever.”

“Since it has, what are your revised thoughts?”

“I can’t think past the end of this cruise, whenever that actually is. As long as Clark and I remain an exclusive romantic item, I’m good with whatever fattening happens, which in my world I consider a side-effect of my foodie joy, not a primary goal. I’m not at peace being this fat without him lavishing his love and lust on me and it exclusively, hence my great displeasure with what’s still going on over there.”

“You don’t see or feel or otherwise discern a difference between what they’re doing and have been doing that you and I have witnessed, and sexy loving lustiness?”

She pursed her lips, struggling not to stare at Beryl’s huge boobs, directly in front of her. “Seems to me it’s a slippery slope. Especially with someone like her, who can’t help exuding sexiness at any size, amped up in his world view with her currently being an SSBBW with hyper-curves. Being honest, also you and/or Rebecca, from either of your succulent soft sexiness alone and even more as former lovers.”

“May I please have an honest, open discussion with you, to better understand your romantic belief system? I am not going to interfere with what you and Clark are doing, much as it puzzles me and limits some to-me really fun options I think we could all enjoy. Because it puzzles me, that’s what I want to discuss and try to understand, without it coming off like I’m pushing to change your world view and/or for any particular outcome. I’ve made it clear that I’m polyamorous—responsibly so: ethical slut here—and into group sex as well as one-on-one. No sales pitch; I just want to try to wrap my head around why you’re so into monogamy, and maybe related but separate in my mind, how it is that you seem to prefer ongoing 24/7 togetherness or close to that. Those things don’t make sense to me, and I’d like to understand.”

“I’m OK having this conversation, especially not having anything else in particular to be doing at the moment. One big problem for me is that my world view is so obvious and natural to me, it’s difficult for me to imagine otherwise. I don’t know how to explain what seems and feels so obvious.”

“Let’s both try and do our best.”

“To me the evolutionary difference in human mating strategies makes sense and I believe remains in play, even if the specifics are all different because we have spoken and written language, birth control, et cetera. While loving a man may not be the sort of evolutionary investment it once was in terms of bearing and raising his children, it’s nevertheless a time and resource investment.”

“I can see that for the full-time long-term loving you seem to be into, but how would that apply to short term?”

“We may be very different. I need to reach a certain level of trust before my clothes come off, much less before I spread my legs. Trust and mutual interest in each other obviously are prerequisites, but I do understand the sudden zinnng of immediate lusty attraction.”

“So when you feel that zinnng, what’s the problem with going with it?”

“I don’t know the man! Is he a criminal? Abusive? Does he have STIs or other communicable diseases?”

“If there’s nothing long-term, and you normally keep your valuables locked away or go to his place, especially being fat and having the weight and your strong leg muscles at your service, you have the strength to take down or at least temporarily incapacitate all but the most extremely brawny muscle-bound men long enough to get away.”

“Guns.”

“You’ll know. Learning how to fire them if you’re not already versed in that is good. They won’t mess with you if you know how to handle firearms, in my experience. As well a lot of this can be filtered long before you’d want to be taking anything off or pulling anything out. In my experience the violent abusive ones as a sweeping generalization tend to be more demanding. Fun as that can be in certain consensual contexts once there’s a passionate connection, for me it’s a turn-off straightaway upon first meeting or too soon thereafter. To clarify, I’m not the type who grabs a total stranger and rushes off to a corner to get it on—not that there’s anything wrong with that for those so inclined. I do filter; I just do it rapidly. Being a good judge of character helps, which comes from experience with people in general, then over time greater experience with lovers.”

“Why do I want to invest all that time and energy for something short-term?”

“Once you’re skilled enough, it’s not a great investment of either time or energy.”

“How do you even begin to handle communicable diseases?”

“I don’t date people showing signs of illness” Beryl grinned.

“STIs?”

“Barriers: no fluid sharing.”

“But what if I crave actual skin-to-skin? Or tongue to clit?” she ended with a telling subtle sexy wiggle.

“Start from the same place. You’ll have seen his tongue by then, just from talking. If his breath is weird or his tongue is coated white or some other non-pink color, I slow things down or wind them down and move on. Or if I’m especially into him and maybe there aren’t any other current good prospects, I may discuss it with him to find out if there’s an extenuating circumstance, which has happened. If you’re inclined to have him go into you, play with his penis: inspect it with your hands and eyes. Our advantage is with the parts of their genitals which will contact us being exposed, we can look for problems. If you don’t already know what to look for, that information’s online. I require a condom if he’s going into me anywhere and you should too. Anything bad that’s less overt than what one can readily see and/or feel by inspection ought to be stopped by that.”

“But I don’t know anything about his personality!”

“A: by that point, you likely already do. B: how does it matter for a one-off?”

“I just don’t feel good about someone I don’t know well getting physically intimate with me.”

“How do you handle those sudden zinnng moments?”

“Usually I let them go.”

“And when they don’t go?”

“That’s when I eat something that zinnngs me—that’s my one-off!”

“Oh how I know that! I do that too, in addition to exciting sex, rather than instead of. Other than during bizarre anomalies such as lockdowns. Ever get off when you eat?”

Leigh nodded, blushing.

“We have that in common too” Beryl grinned. “So don’t you want that frequent variety and zinnnging in your human sex life as well as your food sex life?”

“I get that with one fully-trusted man whom I love to a depth and degree I could not have imagined before this cruise, into whom I’ve invested a lot of time and energy getting to know him and vice-versa, such that I can fully relax and give in and love as well as lust.”

“Good luck keeping the zinnng for more than a couple of years. Never worked that way for me, which is why I gave up on all that.”

“So you do have long-term experience?”

“Yes, in my past. Painful lessons that taught me that monogamy does not suit me.”

“What about those open marriages I’ve heard about?”

“What about ’em?”

“That way you could have all the near-guaranteed love of someone you know deeply with whom you can wake up most mornings, and still have the excitement. Or am I wrong, given that I’ve never done this because I prefer focusing everything on one lover at a time, for a long time when things are working?”

“I like variety too much. Not into having a life partner and having to get into the division of labor and resources to run a household: planning, shopping, and all that. And don’t even get me started about his expecting me to fix his clothes or otherwise do homemaker shit. I’ll do my own, and he can damn well go back to his house and do his own, or hire a maid.”

“So you don’t do married men?”

“There’s where I require greater trust and knowing them better: not unless I’m sure they truly have an informed open marriage, not just the dream of one in their head when their wife is expecting strict monogamy. Whether they’re married or not, all too often there’s a difference in expectations if there’s a long-term steady lover in their life. That’s another area where short-term and especially one-offs work better: if the dude’s lying about his IIR status, you’ll be out of the picture before his steady finds out, so he takes the heat, not you.”

“IIR?”

“Intimate Interpersonal Relationship.”

“Why not just say capital-R Relationship? Or intimate relationship?”

“Because those aren’t specific enough. There are times and places for nudge nudge wink wink know what I mean? know what I mean? say no more say no more innuendo, but relationship status isn’t one of those. I have a relationship with this stateroom: I’m inside it. I have an intimate relationship with my bra: it and my skin are in exceedingly intimate contact for longer periods of time than my lovers. I have an interpersonal relationship with you. In my mind it needs to be all 3 of intimate, interpersonal, and a relationship to cover all bases and be clear. That’s a mouthful, so I abbreviate to IIR.”

“What about loving relationship?”

“I had that with my parents, and thankfully for all involved it was not intimate… at least apart from my mother caring for me as an infant, and moments here and there in later childhood for hugs and such. Flipping it around, I have brief IIRs all the time that are lusty but not loving.”

Leigh had trouble relating, shaking her head slightly. “The only heat I want to take is that of a hot rod connected to a man I trust and know well, and his warm, loving cuddles and massages and related physical intimacy.”

“And you’re OK with all the life partner expectations?”

“The very few times I’ve gone that far with anyone, yes. Some men”–she motioned with her head towards the bed–“innately drop right into equitable give-and-take, likely modeled by their parents.”

“Did your parents stay together as you grew up?”

“Yes.”

“That may be a difference. My dad was out of the scene around when I turned 11, in part because married life and being a father didn’t suit him. My mother dated a number of men over the years, though not as many as I’ve done since my late 30s. I got the itch for variety from both sides.”

“My parents seemed happily married in every way that I could tell until death parted them.”

A wistful look came over Beryl. “My mom’s gone too. No idea about my dad; haven’t had contact with him in years.”

Their minute or so of silence revealed Clark softly snoring along with Jayne.

Leigh established a quieter speaking pattern with her question, “With all the variety you enjoy, what’s the draw of multiple people at one time?”

“Exciting variety!” she struggled to keep quiet. “Same reason our plates were filled with all sorts of different noms at breakfast this morning. Consider: sex with one person at a time is like having a breakfast that’s only eggs, or only bacon, et cetera. And—get this—monogamy with one person is like having, say, scrambled eggs day after day after day after day and nothing else.”

“Not the same. Scrambled eggs won’t give me an STI, and won’t ask you to sew a button back on their shirt. I think your analogy needs an adjustment.”

“Like what?”

“Loving one man isn’t like scrambled eggs, it’s like eggs: an ingredient. Think of all the different things made with eggs! One ingredient, so many exciting, disparate, amazing foods! Cakes, cookies, scrambled, omelettes, sauces—on and on. Two motivated sex-positive lovers wholly lost to love with each other can cook and bake a lot of sexual excitement” Leigh lustily smiled.

“Yes, and most if not all those foods you just mentioned require multiple ingredients, which brings us back to group sex.”

“Are we getting anywhere with this?”

“I don’t know. I do know I like talking with you” she smiled.

Leigh emotionally withdrew a bit.

“Sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Having a moment… personal issues.”

“Thanks for trusting me enough to share that. I wish you didn’t feel a competitive tension towards me.”

“How can I not, when I want monogamy and you’re Clark’s exciting recent ex, polyamorous and loving fatness in and of itself apart from food and wanting more, as his innate desires seek? You and his other recent ex Bec, and I feel the same tension with her. I want to be friends and Team Succulence and all that, but I’ve invested a lot in Clark and don’t want to lose him.”

“Why would you lose him?”

Leigh paused to ensure she could hear Clark’s snoring. Only once she heard it did she proceed. “He lusts after big boobs, as you know. He can’t help it. I don’t have those.”

More to be polite than thinking it was necessary, Beryl matched her lower volume, “He’s an all-way fat-lusting woman-attracted FA. He loves fat asses—you have that. He goes nuts over fat hips, as his hands told mine—you’re the winner on Team Succulence with our current lineup for those. He was nearly in tears begging to bone my butt crack, and with your greater depth there from what I can tell, I don’t need to ask to know that you two do that.”

“I like it too. To me it’s very romantic, since he’s always cuddling me close from behind with his arms around me.”

“It is romantic, I admit it, and I do like it myself, as part of a widely diverse balanced diet of different sex acts with different people. My point is: you have nothing to worry about. He obviously loves you deeply, he’s into long-term stuff, you’re into long-term stuff, you two are into each other—all good. My issue is trying to open you two up to staying primaries with each other and from time to time having fun, sexy adventures with others. Personally, I’d prefer to have an orgy with both of you present than borrow him alone for awhile, on the presumption that there was another tasty man in the mix with whom you felt comfortable and an attraction. Whaddo you think of Per?”

Leigh bit her lip, briefly hesitating before answering. “In a hypothetical orgy situation with everyone good with it, or if Clark hadn’t captured my heart and I was openly dating, I’d do him. After getting to know him better.”

“For a one-off?”

“I don’t know” she sighed. “Based on not enough, part of me feels that he’s an exception: I feel I already know him well enough, even though I actually don’t. Here’s a question for you, about orgies: isn’t it awkward to get nude in front of another woman? Or are you bi?”

“I’m polysexual. Know what that is?”

“Different from polyamorous?”

“Absolutely. Orthogonal to it, as Clark likes to say. As in: unrelated.”

“Never heard of it.”

“First, think about there being a line between totally heterosexual and totally homosexual, rather than only those two as discrete endpoints and a third bisexual point smack-dab in the middle. You may visualize those dot points, but run a single straight line between them all. Now imagine that a person’s attractions can lie anywhere along that line, not just the middle or endpoints. I’m talking purely attraction, not what one’s own biological gender is, nor what’s going on in one’s mind in terms of personal gender identity, nor how one dresses and presents themselves. So what I really mean is a line between women-attracted and men-attracted and equal attraction in the middle. I’m somewhere in the 75 to 80 percent range near the men-attracted endpoint, meaning I go for men most of the time, but there exist women whom I find sexually desirable, at least in limited aspects if not in totality as I usually find most men I get with.”

“What sort of women sexually excite you?”

“Oh come on, Leigh: you know attraction’s not that simple! I can tell you that my love of fat generalizes to my own lovers, though obviously I love contrasts too, else I wouldn’t have been after Clark from before you two got together, or at least before I knew of you two being together.”

“What about me?”

“Given the tension you’ve admitted you already feel between us and especially not knowing to whom in general you’re attracted, I feel uncomfortable answering that.”

“On that line you described, I’m probably 95 to 99 percent near the men-attracted end. So far in my life I’ve not felt the desire to be sexually intimate with a woman, nor romantically intimate. Most of that 1 to 5 percent that keeps me off the 100% men-attracted peg is sexual rather than romantic.”

“Boobs is what that 1 to 5 percent sexual attraction is. Big ones.”

Leigh went wholly pale, then cycled towards bright-red blushing. “How could you know that?!”

“Come on” she smiled. “You just brought up big tas a couple of minutes ago. You’ve been staring at mine more than Clark did on his and my whoopee night. I was sitting diagonally across from you during our special Team Succulence extended breakfast-brunch—so glad Bec coined that term!”

“I like it too.”

“Sitting where I was, I not only saw you go into anguish whenever Bec or myself or Jayne brought up the topic of boobs, but also how you kept checking out theirs as well as mine.”

“Gotta know what the competition’s up to.”

“There you go again with that competition thing. No one’s taking Clark from you. Not even”—she finished her sentence motioning with her head over towards the bed. “She needs sleep and cuddles and she’ll be fine, and off to her own next loving adventure. Own your attractions, whatever they are. You’re not hurting anybody lusting after boobs, unlike some antisocial kinks I could get into. The only potentially sad part is if you truly want your own rather than playing with others’.”

“I feel defective as a BBW, because big boobs tend to be standard equipment, but mine don’t fatten.”

“At all?”

“Not more than half a cup size” she deeply sighed.

“I get that. I’d prefer having more ass and less belly—strike that—more ass and everything else at least as much. Thankfully I have some, but I’d prefer having more. They’re doing amazing things with boob jobs.”

“It’s more important to me to remain natural than become busty.”

“I hear ya. Ass augmentation’s a thing too, but but butt butt” she teased “I don’t want to get into anything medical like that. Not the least because most of those in that profession would think I have plenty of ass already. What about N.B.E.?”

“What?”

“Natural Breast Enhancement. Massages, especially estrogenic foods, breast pumps—all that.”

“Oh right. Yeah, I’ve read about that.”

“And?”

“Seems like a lot of work for minimal results.”

“Won’t know until you try. And at least for the duration of this cruise, you have an eager assistant.” She again motioned with her head over towards the bed. “Not that there’s enough time for anything to happen, nor that you can necessarily work out the materials you’d need. Now if you want to get your hands on my boobs as much as your eyes tell me you do, that’s entirely possible and very easy: just ask.”

“Is there anything about me you like, sexually?”

“If and only if you’re into it, I’d love to do hip stuff with you.”

“Such as?”

“Rub our fat hips together. My hands on yours. Rubbing my boob fronts on yours.”

“Hhhhhhh!”

“Looks like we have a winner” Beryl grinned. Reaching for Leigh’s suddenly-erect nipples she added, “Actually two.”

Leigh felt confused and even more aroused with Beryl manipulating her nips through her top and bra. Tellingly, she made no effort to make her stop, nor in any way signaled such a desire. Quite the opposite.

“Seriously, lots of boob play, whether solo by your own hands, from lovers, or both, will increase their size at least a little bit over time.” Beryl advised as she continued twiddling. “He plays with them, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. Hold that thought for a moment.”

She turned around and leaned past the partition to see what was going on over on the bed.

“Her leg’s thrown up over him!” she tried not to rage.

Beryl had her own long look, and listen. “She’s asleep. Don’t tell me you’ve never done that to someone you’re sleeping with before Clark.”

“Only lovers!”

“Want more nipple play?”

Beyond nodding, Leigh removed her top and bra.

“Great tits!” Beryl whispered, making sincere eye contact reflecting the sincerity of her opinion. “Love them always, and preferentially choose lovers who deeply love them.”

It pleased Leigh greatly, feeling the very pleasant sensations, taking in big busty Beryl’s affirmations, and feeling and seeing her oft-disappointing-to-her breasts swell up fully to this breast expert’s touch. Like Clark with his erections since his surgery, her breasts were as engorged as they’d ever been. The sense of fullness and heaviness from the arousal pleased her mightily.

“Want mine out?”

Leigh nearly hurt her neck vigorously nodding.

It was far more exciting to her than she could have imagined, watching Beryl free her Females.

“Have at ’em, friend.”

Suddenly overcome with lust, Leigh thought there was something seriously wrong with her, wanting another woman’s boobs so much. {Am I really more woman-attracted than I realize? But I’m not to other part– oh don’t even think about that! Uugh! Boobs… oh gosh, big huge fat boobs!}

Jayne and Clark remained sleeping deeply enough that neither Beryl’s slightly heavy breathing nor Leigh’s far louder panting woke them up. Beryl gently led her now-special friend through all sorts of things two breast-equipped topless women could get into for breast-centric sexual stimulation.

{I don’t know who I am any more!} Leigh panted and thought. {This is too wonderful!}

Beryl focused on Leigh more than her own immediate pleasure, striving to track where she was and what she wanted, towards the goal of keeping the event safe, fun, and non-threatening. Doing so, she knew, could lead to a major future pay-off.

A few minutes into exciting, stimulating mutual boob play, things suddenly changed. From over on the bed Leigh heard a soft sleepy feminine groan of complaint, then Clark saying “I’ll be back. I have to go to the bathroom.”

With a frantic burst of panic adrenalin, Leigh whipped on her top in record time, shoving her bra into the crack between the couch cushion upon which she was seated and the couch back cushion.

Rather than question or debate, Beryl followed suit, about as fast, minus any panic.

Clark waved and smiled as he passed by, soon enough closing the bathroom door behind him.

“You OK?” Beryl softly asked.

Leigh shook her head.

She briefly patted her hand in a friendly manner, “We’ll talk.”

On the way back out towards the bed, Clark detoured to side-hug and kiss Leigh, then more briefly side-hug Beryl. “Thank you both so much. I really think it’s helping her. How’re you two doing?”

“We’ve had a lot of things to talk about” replied Leigh, with Beryl taking the safe route and nodding along.

“Is it OK if” his voice went away as he mouthed “I keep going?”

“Mmm hmm. I’ve come to accept that it’s for the best. Have a good nap, part 2!” she ended with a kiss.

Had it not been for her own intense inner situation, Leigh might have been upset anew at the latest round of feminine murmurs from Jayne, to her ear sounding like those of a lover welcoming back her mate. At this particular juncture, the best possible outcome in her mind would be for Clark and Jayne to fall back asleep as soon as possible. She didn’t look, so she didn’t see Jayne turn over for a change of position for circulation, now becoming Little Spoon with Clark easing into a cuddle behind her as Big Spoon.

{I’m liking this way, way too much} thought Clark, loving everything he could sense about Jayne: tactile and other contact sensations, her scent, her body warmth, her currently-awake affection, and her soft, wonderful fat. In terms of the latter, she’d adjusted his arm underneath her to be more in the middle of her waist notch, thus more comfortable. This lined up his hand to cradle a big handful of in-clothes flowing belly fat.

Below consciousness, his hand on her belly fat was an especial treat, after past lovers hating on it or teasing her about it—especially Brent.

Back over on the couch, Beryl struggled to keep Leigh settled until the two bed cuddlers fell back asleep. “Nice day to be inside a cozy, comfy stateroom like this, what with all the light rain and cold outside.”

“It is.” She caught herself studying Beryl’s now-braless breasts, quickly averting her eyes when she realized what she’d been doing. “Did we already discuss what you do for a living? I don’t recall.”

“Service writer at a car dealership in Cerritos. Sound familiar?”

“No. I’m a tech writer with Amalgamated Composites, based in their San Diego office. Despite both of us having ‘writer’ in our titles, I’m guessing that yours may be different.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I speak with customers and write up service orders for the techs, so it’s a combination of customer service and rudimentary preliminary service triage. A lot of it is translation and standardization. Lacking an auto repair professional’s jargon vocabulary, customers often have to say things to me like ‘It goes REE-rrrr-REE-rrrr-REE-rrrr when I first start up’ and about 20 other ways of saying the same thing with different sound effects. I translate that to the standardized ‘Engine surges when cold, OK after warmup’, which is what I type up on the work order. Then the tech does the heavy lifting to find out what the actual problem is, and types up or verbally gives me an estimate unless it’s under warranty or the customer pre-authorized up to a certain total dollar amount, in which case he fixes it immediately without having to wait for estimate approval.”

“No women?”

“Not at our shop at this time. The good ones usually go independent.”

“In terms of heavy lifting, how are they regarding your size and weight?”

“I’m too good at what I do and too friendly for them to give me too much grief.”

They paused, listening carefully. Jayne was again snoring, but not Clark.

“In a way, I’m a translator as well. A certain percentage of our customers might be able to take the raw data from engineering and make sense of it” she again motioned with her head towards the bed as she’d done earlier, indicating Clark. “Others may be less technically adept, and benefit from a brief introduction to the terminology and education regarding important physical characteristics of our products that they’ll want to carefully consider in their design process, so that their own final products come out as they desire.”

“D’you do your company’s website too?”

“No” she shook her head. “That’s outsourced, so I do work with that firm and QA what they do, mainly in terms of whether all the necessary information is there, accurate, and accessible to someone new to our company and maybe our product area.”

“There’s enough vehicle failures that I’m busy pretty much every day. Are there enough products and whatnot for what you do to be full-time?”

“Oh yes. I do internal documents as well as public-facing. There’s also the category of polishing the grammar of and spell-checking research and patent documents.”

They continued chatting a few more minutes before again pausing to listen for sounds of sleep. This time, they both again heard two different people softly sleep-breathing, not even really snoring.

Beryl got the conversation started, whispering, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know how I feel about what we did.”

“Give it time. It is what it is, and it’ll be what it’ll be. However you come to terms with it is good by me, as long as we remain on civil speaking terms.”

“I really liked it, and I thank you for the opportunity.”

“You’re welcome. I very much liked it too. If and only if you find you’re interested in getting into something like that again, I’m down for it. Just so you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Curious: why do you want to keep what we did secret from Clark?”

She swallowed nervously. “One: I have no idea how he’d respond. Two: very hypocritical of me to be getting into that with you or anyone after so stridently struggling to keep Jayne off him.”

Beryl sensed an opportunity she felt she needed to take, “Feeling any different about that now?”

Upset and seriously messed up, Leigh leaned into her special friend’s side, collapsing into her softness quite like an affectionate lover, feeling a mess of confusing feelings. “I don’t know.”

Overpowering feelings quite like she’d recently experienced with Clark yet distinctly different drove Leigh’s hand to reach just slightly over and caress and gently fondle Beryl’s loose boobs within her top, gliding slowly back and forth between them with her caresses. Silent tears rolled out of her eyes at the same time.

Beryl sensed that the thing to do was let her go through whatever she was going through.

Leigh’s sad, wet eyes looked up at hers, when her hand found itself near the bottom of her top. All Beryl had to do was nod and gently smile, and up Leigh’s hand slid under her top, pleasing them both with the gentle caresses and light fondles now being skin-to-skin.

“I’d feel better about an orgy if you and Jayne had men I was as into as I’m suddenly into your boobs.”

“Thank you for sharing that! What you just said along with what you’re doing with me to me is nearly as good as an actual orgy.”

“I won’t categorically rule out an orgy, especially if we’re all still on this ship for a long time.” She again tilted her eyes upward, “As long as you’ll run it.”

Leigh’s sense of time slipped away, as she found herself in uncharted waters every bit as lost as anyone anywhere in the world to the uncharted waters of the COVID-19 pandemic. Her uncharted waters were far more immediately confusing and threatening: not for one moment since she’d resumed fondling Beryl’s breasts through her top had huge, succulent boobs been off her mind. Other than a brief pause during which they both again removed their tops, neither had there been more than a second here or there where her hands weren’t on Beryl’s mams… except for when her mouth was on them. Her mouth! On another woman’s breasts!

Yes it was extremely pleasurable, as in passionately exciting. No, she couldn’t stop, short of being found out. It was at the same time profoundly upsetting.

Beryl correctly read the existence of her upset, choosing to gingerly inquire as they kept on sexually playing with each other. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

Leigh absolutely had to whisper back, bouncing her bouncy-fat body around to get closer to Beryl’s ear, “I’m having a lot of trouble with this.”

“What part?”

“How can I be totally lost to lust to your boobs in every possible way and you playing with mine in nearly every way and at the same time feeling cold nothing at the thought of kissing you on the mouth and outright reviled by the thought of going down on you or otherwise playing with your genitals?! Where is that on the sexual attraction line?!”

“It’s right where you said you were: 95 to 99 percent man-attracted. It is totally OK to be a woman who’s a boob fanatic in terms of other women’s boobs and your own, and have no other sexual or romantic interest in women beyond that. No obligation to be a full-service lesbian, in any way. You are you: you like what you like. You lust after what you lust after. I submit that you and myself and any of the rest of us have no more control over our desires than Clark or Per have over theirs, or any other genetic males do. We all have control over how we do or do not act on our desires, but the desires are there.”

“I am not feeling in control here. I’m feeling like I could do this for weeks!”

“Good! Please work towards embracing and owning your desires.”

Their make-out session was once again interrupted by sounds of waking activity over on the bed. This time there was more warning: soft whispered conversation not unlike Leigh’s and Beryl’s own, inaudible beyond being recognizable as whispered speech.

With quite the look of resignation, Leigh retrieved her bra, starting to put it on until feeling Beryl’s now-familiar hand touching her arm to get her attention.

“Own it” Beryl mouthed silently, not even whispering. Setting an example, she pulled her own bra out from underneath her, setting it aside on the end-of-couch table nearest her, then slowly slipping back into her top.

Leigh’s top as well was comfortably back on by the time Clark and Jayne appeared together. It was difficult to tell how little or much the rest had helped Jayne, given that both of them looked shattered and were shivering.

“Hi” Leigh weakly greeted them, still looking queasy-upset herself. To no one’s surprise, she and Clark were drawn to each other. With no room on the couch, he knelt down as close to her as possible, Jayne hanging back remaining standing upright, shivering more.

“For cheesecake’s sake, let’s turn up the heat in here if you’re cold!” exclaimed Beryl.

None of them moved nor said anything, looking between each other.

Each to Beryl’s eyes looked ever-more upset. “Alright, majority of Team Succulence, listen up: each of you are projecting like billboards that you’re feeling some sort of deep shame or guilt or at least unease. Each of you are currently hurting yourselves emotionally and physically, holding inside whatever’s got your goat… or sheep, or whatever other animal you prefer. The energy must come out, for all of your health, thus the overall health of Team Succulence. Since the only place in this stateroom where we can all sit together might be the bed, let’s head over there and try to all fit on it or near enough to it to maintain the sort of close supportive proximity which has been so sorely lacking during this pandemic lockdown.”

“Arrp!” Jayne bark-whimpered, exploding into tears.

“Clark!: hug her now! You latch onto him too, Leigh. To the bed, for the first-ever Team Succulence confessional!”

Under other circumstances, at least one if not more than one of them would have been aroused by all the soft fat wobbling flesh sloshing around during the short stroll of a few steps over to the bed.

Beryl remained in charge, “Leigh: this is your stateroom. Pick your preferred bed position, leaving room for Clark to cuddle intimately into you and Jayne intimately into him, and ideally some space for me to park myself or at least enough of myself that the desk chair can hold the remainder of me.”

Studying the bed for a moment, Leigh arranged herself up against a stack of pillows against the headboard around the middle of the bed. She eased Clark into her left side, nestling him under her left hip fat. Jayne cuddled deeply into Clark’s left side for dear life, nearly but not quite at the foot of the bed, herself and Clark and Leigh forming an arc from Leigh’s centered position towards the balconette side of the bed, opposite the couch and bathroom. This left plenty of room for Beryl to let her flab flow widely outward, in touch or at least in very easy reach of all 3 of them.

“How is it that this bed and bed frame are holding us all without shattering into splinters or collapsing?” asked Beryl, directed mostly at mechanical engineer Clark.

Being asked a question which took his mind out of his immediate worry allowed Clark a reprieve from nervous shivering and use of his full voice, “Overbuilt: far better reinforcement and a whole different design than the typical ‘Hollywood’-style bolted-together metal frames so many people have at home.”

“And he reinforced it some more with our suitcases and some books” Leigh noted, the emotional storm within her raging so strongly that anyone looking at her would know something untoward was going on.

“It’s unlikely to hold up to bouncing or…”–his upset returned fully, choking down his voice–“sex.”

“OK, it’s confessional time. Remember: we are a team. We care about each other and ourselves, and want the best for all of us. Who wants to go first?”

The daggers of anguish she saw stabbing each of their inner psyches made Beryl squirm. None of them volunteered.

“Obviously to me what each of you is dealing with is exceedingly deep and to you scary. Remember this too: no judgement. We’re all good, each of us. Good people, just as we are. Anyone ready?”

Again, no volunteers and more tortured squirming.

“Clark: you’re first, because I’m running this confessional and I say so. Spill your guts, figuratively, please.”

“I violated the terms of our cruise marriage by waking up cumming in Jayne’s butt crack and fondling her boobs as we spoon-cuddled with me as Big Spoon behind her! I didn’t even know it was happening until I did it!”

“I’m deeply and completely in love with Clark in every way and it’s ripping me up because he and Leigh are a super-great couple and I don’t want to break them nor anyone else up but I’m already addicted to his cuddly, caring love and I need it, ongoing!” burst out of Jayne barely a moment after Clark finished confessing.

Similarly there was no pause between the end of Jayne’s confession and the start of Leigh’s, “I’m a total boob lust fanatic who can’t get enough of other women’s huge boobs nor them loving mine even though I don’t want to get into anything else sexual or romantic with them I think but I’m not sure but I’m totally certain that I still love Clark in every possible way as much as ever and don’t want any of that to change but I’m addicted to boob sex!”

“Good job, Team!” {Let’s hope the soundproofing kept this from being far too much of an overshare. Oh well… maybe we or at least I will get new orgy members out of it.} “You all did really well opening up and getting so much of that energy moving and out of your bodies. Anyone have any additional major confessions, ideally yelled into a pillow or someone’s arm or boob or something, out of respect for our neighbors?”

“How do I recover from this?!” “How do I go on?!” “How do I reconcile everything?!”

“OK OK good: no more new confessionals and you’re all ready for the next step, which is reconciliation. By that I mean reconciliation in your own minds and bodies first and foremost, then reconciliation with others in your life affected by what you’ve confessed. It’s natural to try and work it out all at one time together given how you all are interrelated by what all’s going on, but that winds up as unproductive cacophony in practice. Instead what we do is take each of you one at a time and keep repeatedly going in sequence, because one person’s reconciliation may affect another’s.

“We’ll do reconciliations in the same order as confessions. Clark: what do you need to do within yourself to reconcile yourself to what you confessed?”

“I’m overdrawn on apologizing to people: Leigh has said as much. I, I don’t know how to accept my failure to abide by my promises, especially since it happened at least partially when I was asleep.”

Leigh raised her hand.

“Yes Leigh?” Beryl acknowledged her.

“Would this be the time for mutual forgiveness, such as between Clark and myself?”

“Not yet, because we have to ensure that each of you is as reconciled and at peace as possible within your own beings in terms of what’s disturbing you before we get others involved. So that’s a great instinct, but premature at this moment. Back to Clark, temporarily ignoring how your butt sex and boob fondles have affected and going forward affect others, within yourself how do you believe you can come to terms with things?”

“I don’t know. Within myself, I’ve harmed my own sense of integrity and principle, as being an upstanding, trustworthy, honest person.”

“How much control do you have over what you do in your sleep?”

“Little if any. But I was awake before I finished, so I could have stopped what I was doing.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was so close to an orgasm, and everything felt too good.” He started to silently cry.

“Sounds to me like you were already over your threshold of inevitability when you awoke. True?”

He nodded.

“So then how could you have stopped?”

“I couldn’t have stopped that, and maybe it doesn’t so much matter because we had clothes on and… because… nothing actually comes out of me any more.”

Leigh instinctively caressed her man and affectionately cuddled into him more deeply. Jayne looked like she wanted to do the same thing, holding back from uncertainty regarding whether it was OK or not.

“So whether or not anything came out of you, how could you have stopped at that point?”

“I could have pulled away at the last second. And I didn’t need to be squeezing her breasts.”

“Why were you?”

“Because it seemed like it was already too late and Leigh would leave me anyway and the world’s gone insane and nothing matters any more besides honesty and integrity and I utterly failed at those.”

“Was it because it was too wonderful and you couldn’t stop?” Leigh softly asked.

He burst into tears, nodding vigorously.

Rather than feeling angry or hurt or pulling away, she cuddled into him even more, caressing him tenderly. “I understand more than you can possibly imagine. I know I’m speaking out of turn, but please forgive yourself.”

“Why? (sniff)”

“Your forgiving yourself may be a prerequisite to me forgiving myself.”

“Alright.”

Beryl retook control, “How might you avoid getting yourself into this sort of anguish in the future?”

“By not getting intimate with wonderful and wonderfully attractive BBW. But Jayne needed cuddles so she could sleep!”

“I agree that abstention would solve the issue. Abstention also sucks donkey dongs! Only you can come to terms with what’s going on with you, and it might not all happen today. I humbly submit as an outside advisor that if something like this comes up in the future that you seriously review whether your preferred outcome is realistic or not. Humans are imperfect. Occasional errors despite best efforts need not destroy honesty, integrity, trustworthiness, being an upstanding person, nor anything else, as long as they are rare and close to unavoidable. At least in my opinion, but it’s yours that matters. Beyond that, please seriously reconsider whether your self-judgments might be unrealistically confining and rigid, and consider making them malleable or even flowing. OK for now?”

He nodded, with Leigh remaining deeply cuddled into him, affection from her alternately surging then halting as she continued to struggle with her own stuff.

“Your turn, Jayne: within yourself, how do you believe you can come to terms with things?”

“Almost all of it is outside my control” she softly objected.

“That’s why right now we’re focusing on your internal experience, because that’s wholly under your control.”

“I feel like I don’t know who I am any more, because for me this whole pandemic didn’t just up-end my life, it smashed it to pieces! I thought I was a strong, capable person and an independent woman, but now I feel so lost and so needy. I’ve always been outgoing, in-person, and physical, and this isolation and having to distance and only hear and see but not be present and feel is trashing me! That’s why being with you all and really any of you is so crucial to me.”

“But as I personally found out when I reached over to share a hug with you at breakfast, we’re not all the same to you, in terms of your needs.”

“I am on the ropes, and, frankly, at-risk. That whole age game nearly made me run and take a flying leap off the ship out into the bay. Trust me: this morning wasn’t the first time since this whole pandemic thing blew up that I seriously thought about ending my life, and I assure you I know from where on the Sky deck to jump and have a high probability of making it into the water rather than smashing against the side of the ship.”

Clark cried anew, this time aloud. He grabbed Jayne, pulling her tightly into his side with enough sudden force to actually move her heavier body somewhat closer to him.

The caring love and her ongoing consternation made her weep. “This is torture to me. I need love! Need it. Every. Kind. Of. Love. I may not be the first woman in history who’s been suddenly catapulted directly from vibrant MILFy middle-aged sexy to crumbling rag bag hag, but I’m the only one I know. You, Beryl, and I know that no-strings-attached sex is easy enough to come by, even if sometimes and in some ways its own problem. My experience is that quality love beyond sex and for more than one night or day is tough to arrange. I’m desperate enough that I’ll prolly settle for Brent if there’s no better choice, and with all the social limitations currently in effect, there’s unlikely any better choice.

“All this makes it sound like my love of Clark is desperation, but it’s sooo not! So much of attraction is inscrutable and instinctual. At least profoundly deep attraction… at least for me. If I’d met Clark when he was totally single and not dating anyone and before the pandemic when my business and self-esteem were intact and somehow we’d reached the point of cuddling, I would have seriously been propositioning him to find a way for us to be ongoing all-in lovers, or at least doing some major focused steady dating to work through all the usual compatibility stuff to find out whether such would work for both of us. I need someone’s cuddly affectionate trusted ongoing love more than ever right now. For how long I don’t know, because I can’t imagine me personally making it out of this pandemic mess in any good way. Love shifts—I know. Love fades—I know. Doesn’t matter: I’m too deeply in love with him. If no one else existed, I’d want to be passionately kissing him and cuddling some more and taking our clothes off and getting sexual right now, both because I need sexual affirmation as well as cuddles and sleep, and to strengthen our love bond via all the sex biochemistry triggering the partner bonding.

“But then there’s Leigh, and I don’t say that in any way begrudgingly.” She leaned past Clark to make eye contact with her, “I really like you, Leigh!: on your own merits, even though understandably you don’t much abide me, or at least me being intimate with Clark. Can’t explain exactly why… it’s an irrational like, similar to my irrationally-strong love of Clark. My sense of integrity and ethics disallows my interfering with others’ IIRs, regardless of their formal or informal status in terms of being legal marriages or whatever else. This is true even when I feel my life is at stake. I’d rather harm myself than harm the deep bond you two have, because you’re both wonderful and your bond is so beautiful.”

Leigh and Jayne happened to share one of those momentary moments etched forever in one’s mind. In this case, it was a moment of mutual especially intense direct eye contact, feeling less than a second’s blast of the universe’s caring love flowing between them.

“So in terms of my coming to terms with things internally, maybe I already have. The primary directive is that I shall not harm Leigh’s and Clark’s IIR. The secondary directive is that I will navanax up every atom of Clark’s affectionate, caring, restful love that I can get, and, being honest, his sexual, passionate, lusty love too. For the record, the boob fondles and butt humping were very life-affirming to me, especially today given all that’s gone down.”

“Nava-what up?” asked Beryl.

“Navanax. A sea slug that can suck things up like a vacuum cleaner. That’s as far as I can go right now with my internal reconciliation.”

“Thank you; very good. Alright Leigh, your turn: how do you believe you can come to terms with things you’ve confessed, within yourself?”

She let out a deep sigh. “The struggle is real.” Again leaning past Clark to make eye contact with Jayne she said, “I so wholly relate to having one’s reality blown up in a way I could not earlier today or at any time earlier in my life. I might or might not do better with a name or label for what I am, in terms of my attractions. Loving Clark and women-attracted FA men in general is straightforward: no conflict there. I truly, truly never ever before knew that behind my raging big boob jealousy was raging lust until suddenly figuring it out with the past couple of hours with Beryl when you two were sleeping. I’m still struggling not feeling shame that my boob lust feels stronger and farther out of my control than any boob-lusting man of whom I’ve ever heard.”

“Any idea what it would take for you to let go of the shame?”

“Knowing there were others out there like me would help.”

“There are. I don’t have their names memorized, so I can’t right this moment pull up any of their sites or social media accounts or anything, and being honest all the ones I can think of whom I do know have more generalized woman-woman attractions.”

“Wish we could find some and I could talk to them.”

“Well you’re talking to one right now, though we’re different because my boob lust is more of my own and not as intense as yours is, even though mine is very real and I appreciate all we shared and hope there may be more in the future. They’re looking quizzical, so you might as well go ahead and explain.”

“I shared breast sex with Beryl while you two slept, or at least rested. Ongoing, over and over, through tops and topless. Hands, mouth, tongue. Mutual.”

“So what did you think?” asked Clark, seemingly more pleased and intrigued than upset.

“Mind-blowing and addictive. I cannot get enough!—at least so far. All that soft wobbly hugeness and the shape and the nipple texture—aaaaaghh!. What is happening to me?! Am I having some sort of testosterone overload from food?! Is this an undocumented COVID-19 aftereffect?!”

“Why ask why? If I need to accept that I couldn’t and didn’t truly want to stop being through-clothes sexually intimate with Jayne, is it too much for you to consider embracing and owning being a possibly-rare boob fanatic who happens to be a sexy SSBBW herself?”

“This is great, but we’re getting a little bit ahead here” said Beryl. “My experience has been that one has to do what one can to be OK internally before seeking external support or agreement or whatever, else the internal stuff can be undermined so a person can, for example, better fit into their social milieu.”

“But we’re social beings who don’t live in a vacuum!” Jayne objected.

“My ability to accept and possibly embrace my extreme boob lust is wholly dependent upon social acceptance” added Leigh.

“Alright, I’m obviously not in any sense a qualified therapist. So we’ll move on. Time to reconcile your confessions and internal coming to terms with them with others in your life most directly affected. Which, conveniently, seems mostly to be others amongst you. Once again we start with you, Clark. What do you need others to know about your confession and/or self-acceptance therefrom, or in other ways related to what hopefully past-tense was your major dilemma today?”

“I have to know that Leigh forgives me. Without that I’m shattered and lost.”

“Do I get to speak now?” Leigh asked Beryl.

“Yes. This last section is interactive, as long as the primary speaker has the opportunity to share what they need, and as long as no one gets overly worked up or spirals away too fast into some runaway thought process the rest of us may have trouble following. Go ahead.”

Turning towards Clark with watery limpid eyes, cuddling him and caressing his arm she declared, “I totally and completely forgive you for what happened. For any number of reasons or no reason, though in my mind especially because I made the same sort of violation with Beryl and took things so much further.”

“Do I get to forgive her for that?”

“Yes, but not right now, please. Let’s all focus on Clark’s perspective until we can’t, then continue through to Jayne etc. I’m thinking that once we go through the loop one last time it’ll be safe to open things up to free discussion. Clark: do you need anything else from anyone else at this point for your acceptance of what you confessed?”

“Yes: I need to know that Jayne is OK that that sexual intimacy happened.”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” she wondered aloud. “Yes. I’m actually great with that, and it helped start to rebuild my shattered self-esteem.”

“If Leigh’s forgiven me and Jayne’s good with what happened, that’s all I need.”

“Excellent. OK Jayne, what do you need to tell others, or from them, or whatever?”

“I’ve already made it as clear as I can that under no circumstances will I allow myself to interfere with Leigh’s and Clark’s love. I’ve also made it clear that I need as much of Clark’s love as possible, more about affection and cuddling, but ideally also sex. What would be perfect for me is if their IIR was open and they were both good with me being intimate with Clark, ongoing at least until the first of my putting my life back together or the end of this cruise.”

“Anything else?”

“If for any reason I can’t get the support I need from Clark, I beg for all your help hooking me up with someone able to help me in this dire time of need in some ways we’re all in and I’m in especially.”

“Tough times, especially having yet to identify the minimum 5 or 6 on-board woman-attracted male FA crew or staff members we discussed this morning, but I at least will do what I’m able, if that’s how things go.”

Clark and Leigh nodded in agreement.

“OK Miz Leigh: what do you need to share with others or get from them or whatnot?”

“As mentioned earlier, I absolutely must have total acceptance of my boob fanaticism from others close with me who know of my intimate life, which for my purposes is the rest of you here in the room with me now. Ideally I’d like it from Per and Bec too, but without it from the 3 of you, I’ll have a major struggle with my self-acceptance.” Again, she leaned past Clark, “Total acceptance does not mean that anyone with big boobs has to tolerate my staring or anything else. Rather that each of you accept that I have this desire, and that it’s so intense and extreme that it’s crushing my soul.”

“I’m totally good with your boob lust!”

“What Jayne said” Clark grinned.

“I admit being biased as I was your first, but totally honestly and even if you’d been doing it with someone else and not me, to me it is a beautiful, beautiful thing that you feel the way you do, which I 100 percent accept and embrace.”

“Even though it feels out of control to me?”

“Again we’re back to the internal desire versus external expression. Internal desire is what it is, and can feel out of control. If your behavior goes out of control, that’s on you, and that’s another matter. You do not get a free pass to wantonly stare and/or grope and/or catcall and/or do anything else boundary-crossing and/or potentially offensive just because you’re a cisgender woman. Clark may be your best ally and advisor here, given that his huge boob lust is strong too. I can easily foresee you two dating the same woman at the same time for boob sex, especially because normally as we all know the knockers come in 2s, so with consent all around, you could both go at her at the same time.”

“Nnnnggaaah!” Leigh suddenly orgasmed quite audibly, sonically burying Jayne’s softer “Hnnng!” of sudden high arousal.

“OK, I think we’ve finished the taking turns. Thank you for working with me and for your cooperation. This discussion is now freely open for random interaction.”

Leigh immediately lunged and grabbed Jayne’s right hand, “If you will be my boob lover, I will let you and Clark be lovers of whatever kind as long as he and I remain the primary couple and we all work together to satisfy each other’s needs as much as possible, for the duration of this cruise or until life requires changing this arrangement.”

“REALLY?!” she shrieked with joy.

“Yes! As long as Clark’s OK with it.”

“I’m great with it, to the surprise of absolutely no one ever.”

“What about me?” asked Beryl.

An even more potent burst of lust shot through Leigh. “Please?” she begged her now-lovers, plural (at least conditionally for Jayne).

“I’m great with both you and Clark doing Beryl any consensual way you like, and Beryl, I love you and owe you as a friend, but I don’t know that I’m feeling the sexy with you.”

“I’m down with that. Leigh’s really good with boobs and I’d very much like more samples of Clark before this cruise ends, hence my query.”

“I’m truly good with whatever you three work out, as long as I know what it is” Clark replied.

“So Leigh?” asked Jayne in a tone pitched high from worry, “May I passionately kiss Clark right now? Or should I present my boobs to you first, to seal the deal?”

“Boob lust!” Leigh stuck out her arms and made grabby motions with her hands, like a true over-the-top breast fanatic.

Beryl hefted herself off the bed, moving out of the way for the imminent boob-fest. “This calls for pizza and beer delivered to the room, don’t ya all think?”

“Yes!”

While Beryl got busy placing the order, Leigh and Clark got busy getting her top back off, then with Jayne’s full cooperation, Jayne’s flowing dress.

“HHHHHHHHhhhhh! Oh my gosh, you’re beautiful!”

“Heck yes! You’ve still totally got it goin’ on, Swash Buckle!”

“Squish Buckle!” Leigh countered. “Get your clothes off, Neener.”

The passionate loving lusting sex desire Jayne felt directed towards her in words, sight, and soon thereafter touch from Leigh and Clark at the same time profoundly helped start to reassemble her self-esteem.

“I get her boobs you get her lips—with her consent, of course.”

“Total consent for you two!” Jayne joyously replied. “Do me!”

Leigh immediately got her hands on Jayne’s orbs and plunged her face into them in between. She could tell right away that while Jayne’s weren’t quite as large as much-fatter Beryl’s, they were fuller: nice and round. Smaller nipples, seemingly even smaller than Leigh’s own, though that might have been more a matter of perspective than reality. Gorgeously huge areolae Leigh couldn’t help repeatedly kissing and licking, driving Jayne wild.

The total make-out and at the same time affectionate loving kisses she shared with Clark kept driving their love bond deeper and deeper: there was no way out now, no going back: they were and would remain lovers.

When all was said and done, Beryl Beech got her orgy, even if it wasn’t at all the wild hump-fest Clark and Leigh had imagined. It was a lot more like a nude dinner party amongst a few very close friends with aspects of sex here and there: restful, mostly about eating and pleasant conversation. All of them had all their clothes off well before the food arrived.

To no one’s surprise, Clark reached his point of fullness long before the others. This freed him to sexily caress or massage whomever was receptive and currently in a position to partake.

Jayne received possibly more than her fair share of attention, being a new lover to the rest of them, in practice meaning Leigh for breasts and Clark for everything (even though they hadn’t yet made it to all the possible everythings they intended to explore).

Down on the floor, Clark felt motivated to move over and kiss Jayne’s belly as she sat comfortably on the couch next to Beryl, peacefully enjoying her latest pizza slice.

Her eyes lit up aglow, her voice lust-addled, “What are you doinnng?!”

He immediately stopped, “Not what you want?”

“Opposite! It’s wonderful! Please give me more!”

“Haven’t you been lovingly belly kissed before?” asked Beryl as Clark went back to it.

“Never. Brent wouldn’t even touch me there during intimacy, other than insulting pokes, prods, or grabby shakes.”

“Don’t go out with him any more” said Leigh. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Clark again paused his belly kisses to agree, “Absolutely true”, then got back to mutual pleasure.

“Why does this feel so amazingly good?” Jayne asked Beryl.

“Sensitive area. Stretched skin. If you’ve not been kissed there until now, I’m guessing you’ve yet to have a hard penis rubbed against you there.”

“Hhhhhh! Oh please yes!”

She set aside her plate to more thoroughly enjoy Clark rubbing himself back and forth across her there. At first aided by his hand, as he grew harder it was easier to merely swivel his body, freeing his hands to massage her breasts, spreading them apart somewhat so she’d have a better view of her own belly.

He rubbed her a good long while, getting off right there on her belly, making absolutely no mess.

“No, there’s no way we’re all going to fit and even if we did per Clark we risk destroying the bed from our combined weight.”

The orgy dinner had been amazing! Now hours later, it was time for bed.

“I do not at all mind returning to my stateroom” Beryl continued, as typical a smile in her voice and on her face. “You 3 are the ongoing limited 3-way per the parameters we all know quite well, which I hope you’ll all own and comfortably embrace. There’s room and weight capacity for all of you, and with Clark in the middle, you’ll all get what you need.”

They all thanked her profusely, verbally, with hugs, with kisses and butt squeezes in Clark’s case, and with parting boob squeezes in Leigh’s case.

Clark and, surprisingly, Leigh, wrapped one arm each around Jayne (in the middle), standing nude after Beryl left. “Need anything from your living space for the overnight?” she asked.

“I really don’t want to get dressed just to go get a toothbrush. I know it’s supposed to be unsanitary, but for one night, may I please use one of yours?”

“She can use yours can’t she, Neen? Since you two kiss?”

“Sure. I’d better get her mouth ready” he grinned.

“Yeah you better” Leigh grinned back. She wasn’t sure why she enjoyed watching them kiss nor why she continued mildly enjoying the side embrace, but she did.