The cabin berth

Piet was not Anders, and the room was not a boat. He was forty-three, a port-bar man on a different month, and the hotel sat up from the harbor with a narrow bed and a window that pretended to be a porthole. I told him at the bar I do not fuck my crew and I do not fuck on a hull I am paid to move. He said he had a room and no interest in my watch bill. I went.

I kept the navy coat on. Nothing written on it, no badge, no thread of rank, just wool and my grey bob and the windburn. I sat on the narrow bed in black trousers and boots and let him stand in the door until I crooked a finger. The coat is a coat. I like the weight of it while someone earns the rest. I told him to kneel and eat my cunt, and to leave the coat where it was. He nodded like I had given a course.

Trousers open, one boot off so I could spread, coat buttoned to the breast. He put his mouth on me and licked with a focus I respected. Tongue on my clit, then lower, then back, two fingers fucking my cunt slow while he sucked. I held his hair and did not perform a speech. When I was close I told him not to stop. I came against his mouth, thighs tight on his ears, a filthy sound into the wool collar. He kissed the inside of my knee after, proud. I told him pride was fine and his cock was next.

I pulled him onto the bed. He shoved his jeans down. I stroked his cock, wet from my cunt on his mouth and from how hard he was, and I said fuck me and cum inside. I want to feel it. He pushed his cock into my cunt and fucked me on the narrow mattress, coat bunching under my back, the headboard a dull knock. I kept the wool on the whole time. He fucked harder when I said so. I came again, cunt gripping his cock, and I told him now. He came inside, deep, heat flooding, his face in the plain shoulder of the coat. I held him there until he softened.

He asked, after, which ferry ran at dawn. I laughed into his neck and said he could buy a ticket like everyone else. I did not give him the schedule, the crew list, or a second night. I wiped between my legs with a hotel towel, buttoned the trousers, and left the coat on for the walk uphill. His cum was still in my cunt on the hill. I liked the secret of it under plain wool. The rented room was mine. I locked it, drank water, and did not text him the tide.