Naked Cabin Girl
(TRUE, M/F, size, oral)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com

In trying to recruit reluctant colonists, Erik the Red perpetuated one of history's most famous cases of fraudulent advertising. The green land to the east was called Iceland and the iced land to the west he called Greenland - green as in growing, checkered with pasture and paddock, a lush land of milk and honey. Read the fine print. Perhaps the open land in southern Greenland had in those days been more extensive, but the living could never have been easy. The looming ice cap is a weather factory. As the air above the frozen dome cools, it becomes heavy, flows outward, and falls off the escarpments at paint-stripping speeds of up to 160 miles per hour. Cold air's density gives these winds more force than warmer winds of the same velocity. Whole villages have been blown out to sea. The terror of these katabatic killers, called Piteraq, is etched in the Inuit psyche.

Our research ship we took up the Gulf of St. Lawrence, through the Strait of Belle Isle, up the Labrador Sea, and into the Atlantic over to Greenland was good-sized, almost sixty meters long. The trip served the dual purchase of transporting cargo to Nuuk, which included several tons of vegetables I hate: lettuce, tomatoes, onions, etc. The small crew consisted of only six men, and then Alan and myself. I met them all and they seemed glad to have me on board. After setting off, one fellow named Eric asked if I wanted to see the navigation room (called the Bridge on most ships, but not here for some reason I never knew) where the Captain stands and I nodded yes. Problem was, it was really high and we have climb four decks of circular stairs to get up to it. I'm deathly afraid of heights and I kept stopping and gingerly sitting down on the steps, hugging rail with a bone-crushing grip. Finally reaching the navigation room, it was more like an air control tower, with a grand view of the deck below and the ocean. And I felt every pitch, roll, and toss of the ship more acutely from that position than when below deck.

It was scary. If you've never been on a ship in the Atlantic, then you cannot know how it tosses any ship of any size around like a dinghy. The captain was very nice, a happy balding, plump man in his 40s who took my hand and led me to the rail near the front view port. The window angled up and outward, giving you the impression that you could lean into void. My head spun from dizziness and I got so scared, being so high. So I gripped his hand and arm really hard and sat down on the floor, shaking my head. They mistook my fear for sea sickness. I quickly laid my notepad flat on the floor and wrote that I was really scared of heights. I eventually got back up, but I hung onto his arm and made him hold my hand, standing behind him. I know he wasn't scared, but that didn't allay my fear of being tossed right through that window should a swale hit the ship just right!

We were in no hurry and it took us almost four days to arrive at Nuuk, Greenland. During that time, I spent the nights mostly sleepless and the days being mostly dizzy. I was not designed for travel for some reason. Yes, I vomited a half dozen times and the men were concerned Alan had made a mistake thinking I could ever sail anywhere. (I will prove them wrong.) The big secret that sailors carry with them is their porn stashes. I was amazed! Alan explained to them that I was a lot of fun and certainly no prude by any means. So I asked this one young fellow, who was only 21 to show me his stash, telling him he couldn't shock me. He claimed to have some kiddie porn, but it was only just nudist colony photos of entire families nude; hardly pornography. I like the hardcore stuff, I admit it, anything that shocks! Everything he showed me, I just wrote, 'Done that… That too… Yep… Not with that many… Nope, but haven't found the right guy… Oh yes, easily… LOVE that… and so on.

He was really intrigued by my supposed ability to take a whipping. Telling him within limits (a belt, his hand, a strap, a whip) he could beat my ass as hard as he wanted and I would like it. That freaked him out, and of course, he wanted to know more. So I said I could do the same for my breasts, or at least I thought I could – I've abused them and they don't hurt for the most part. He spent a lot of time asking about Norris Point and coming to visit me after that. But living in Torbay north of St. John's (Newfoundland), he's about over 800km from me!


I did a really stupid thing coming down the stairs the next morning. The stairs in most any ship are purposefully narrow and steep to save space. This ship was no exception. I had on my favorite new blue jean dress, that Alan had complimented back in Norris Point, and came bouncing down the stairs. At the bottom of the rail is a crown-point (not rounded as it should be), and as I came down the stairs, my skirt filled with air and flowed up my legs, swirling about me as I turned to enter the hallway. However, the pocket of my skirt caught on this damned rail-handle point and snagged. I was going so fast that I didn't realize what was happening before it was too late. The pocket hung on the point and I kept going, tearing the skirt portion from the blouse, and when I turned to see what was tugging on me not letting me go, I turned into the skirt, and tore it even further, more than halfway across my waist!

I could not fucking believe this. MY LUCK! I turned and twisted, tip-toed, leaned, bent, tilted, straightened, anything to unhook myself. It only worsened, tearing the skirt further, now hanging by an eight-inch strip. Finally Alan walked up and saw me struggling and helped free me, and there I stood with my skirt laying on my floor, barely hanging from my waist, nude from the belly down except for panties and shoes! That was my new favorite dress and I was so mad. I looked at him and signed, "What am I going to do now? This was my best dress!" meaning, my most comfortable dress. I had only brought two other dresses with me, so I started crying… yes, just like the baby I am.

Just like a guy, Alan didn't understand why I was so upset. 'It was just a dress,' he signed. I liked this dress and he had complimented me in it, so that made it special. I told him he doesn't understand and sat down on the floor in a cross-legged position, planted my elbows on my thighs, buried my face in my hands, and just cried. He tried to comfort me, but I didn't look up. When I did a couple of minutes later, a crowd had gathered and he was picking me up off the floor. And for some odd reason, he kept trying to get me to hold the skirt up over my thighs and panties. I didn't understand what he was trying to do and slapped his hands away to let go of my skirt. He signed that it wasn't ladylike, and that made me mad.

"Everyone here has seen panties, big deal!" I signed madly. The captain grew more concerned about my presence, confirming the adage that women on a ship were bad luck, but I reverted to Alan's logic: it's only a dress. Fuzzy logic is so convenient, isn't it? I returned to my cabin and just undressed, sitting on the bunk in just panties and bra. Apparently someone knocked on the door for several minutes before returning to ask for help, only to be reminded, "She's deaf, you idiot, just go on in."

It was a fellow I had not seen much, Patrick Field, who offered to help me by sewing the dress back together. He opened the door and saw me laying there in my underwear hugging my Cookie Monster doll and tried to quickly back out, but I jumped up and invited him in and closed the door behind us. He could see I was still crying and he wanted to cheer me up. He offered me a surprise if I would stop crying.

"What's that?" I asked, writing on my notepad.

"You'll just have to wait and see. Trust me, you'll enjoy it, okay?"

"Okay, but you promised!" I wrote.

"I promise!" he scribbled.


The nights are longer and the next evening the men gathered after dinner to play cards. I wasn't hungry, but ate a chocolate bar while holding my Cookie Monster doll and watching them shuffle their chairs into position. I was still upset over my dress, unable to clear my clumsiness out of my mind. I briefly sat in Alan's lap, but almost fell out when the ship pitched and rolled forward, then hard starboard. He grabbed me with his arm and managed to grasp a handful of breast to hold me upright! It hurt but still felt good to be touched in any way. Being around these guys was infectious. I studied the brevity of their normal interactions. Patrick asked if I wanted to play with them and I declined, explaining I'd never played cards before.

They acted surprised. Never played cards, what kind of girl are you? they said, laughing. Patrick told Alan who signed to me that he would have to break his promise then. I looked at him and pointed my finger and signed, "Oh no you won't, Mister." When Alan translated it, they all laughed at my newfound firmness. So he reached underneath his chair and pulled out a box and inside was my repaired dress, which he shook free of the box. I was amazed: my face lit up like it was Christmas morning and I ran over to his side of the table and inspected the dress – he had double-stitched the seam, even fixed the pocket. I hugged and kissed him, even kissed his hands, bringing a big laugh to the group. I didn't care. What a sweet, sweet thing to do! I was suddenly so happy, you could have thrown me off the boat and I wouldn't minded.

"But you have to play with us tonight," he asked as payment.

"I don't know how, how can I?" I signed toward Alan.

"Then you'll just have to learn, ay, Captain?" who agreed.

They wanted me, but I'd need help in playing. One guy would have to sit out and play with me, teaching me the game as we went along. Now, normally, this probably wouldn't be so hard with a hearing girl, but being deaf, it complicated the effort. Everyone shuffled again and it was agreed the Captain would teach me. So I beside him and unsnapped my notepad so he could write on it on the high-lipped table. The game was poker and it seemed amazingly complex. I had seen a deck of cards before, but I never understood their values and why 'face?' cards are better than numbered cards and such. Then add all those combinations like flushes and stuff and I was lost.

The ship pitched again and I jokingly asked the Captain to grab me by my hair if he saw me falling. I began to notice that these sailors 'danced with the ship' when it struggled against the sea. Whereas someone like me succumbed to its violence, and got tossed from one wall in the hallway to another. What I couldn't understand is how these people ever kept any food down. Every time I ate I got sick.

Anyway, I pretended to play and know what I was doing, but I lost every single hand. I found losing quite boring. And why do (hearing) people take so long to play? They took way too long in between hands and bets or moves (whatever they were called). I was usually asking for 3-4 cards every time. The Captain was no help, more interested in cutting up with the crew than teaching me. Two hours later, there must have been a noise or something, because they all paused and looked askance, and the Captain had to leave. I asked if something was wrong and it was a shift change. He was on the bridge for the rest of the evening until morning. I asked Alan what they heard and he said it was an announcement for the Captain to report to the navigation room. Okay.

The Captain left and reminded us not to get into any trouble. Alan signed it to me and I kissed him bye, thanking him for the help. He shouldn't have said that, because it planted a contrary and evil thought in my head. On a ship with seven men for three days and two nights to this point, I had several fantasies, each of which I felt I could do nothing about. At least without mutiny breaking out. So I signed to Alan that we up the stakes and play strip poker. He signed back that he wouldn't tell them that. I wanted to dare them and see if they'd back out. I knew they would, if for no other reason out of fear of getting into big trouble. I signed for him to tell them and he nodded no, waving me off. I slammed my hands on the table and that got everyone's attention.

"Tell them!"

"No! We're not doing that, you're crazy for thinking it," he signed.

So I started writing 'STRIP POKER' on my pad to show to everyone and he waved that he would tell them. So I kept writing a few rules, one-by-one, getting them to agree with each one before writing the next.
(1) Each player is allowed 4 pieces of clothing only before being nude;
(2) You can't quit once the game starts;
(3) You guys have to tell me when I win, okay? since I don't know the game, they can't cheat [they agreed];
(4) Loser is eliminated from the game after each round until two players are left;
(5) Loser has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the night.

The men looked at one another, reluctant to agree to this last term, wary of the trouble it would bring if things got out of hand. I assured them it would not. Consider it a way of rigging the game in my favor.

For the next four hours, we played tortuously slow, the men studying their cards meticulously, as if losing their clothes were far more valuable than money, of which I had none. The advantage for me is that over the course of the game I got to see each man naked! I had to play more openly, showing them my hands, which sucked, but I finally figured out to some extent that I should get as many similar face cards as possible or pairs of numbered cards. Alan thought I was nuts, but played along as well.

On the second round, I lost my dress, so I sat for the next hour in bra and panties. Didn't bother me a bit, but seemed to distract the men. Advantage Kysa. Man after man dropped a shirt, their pants, then stood up to lose their underwear all to my applause after each round, until only Alan and me were left in the game. The others dressed and sat just away from the table, mostly on Alan's side. He still had on pants and underwear when I lost again and was forced to choose between panties or bra. Since he couldn't see under the table, I stood up and slid my panties off to the catcalls of everyone. I'd forgotten that my bush was trimmed but pretty thick. They didn't seem to mind. I sat back down and with the help of Patrick was able to win the next two rounds, forcing Alan naked.

To my surprise, his cock was big for being soft. Or maybe it was semi-hard, but it still hung limply, and was fairly long, obviously uncircumcised, and was considerably thicker than any of the other men. He didn't notice, but I sure did. I celebrated by victory by jumping up and down and by lifting my bra and flashing my boobs to everyone. I had a blast, and most of them were soused by now, almost 4a. They chanted, 'What's the prize?' 'What's the prize?' 'What's the prize?' over and over, asking me what I wanted Alan to do. I signed to him, knowing they wouldn't understand, to "Go to my cabin and wait there." He grabbed his clothes, threw on his pants and left down the hall.

I put my panties back on and hugged and kissed every guy, two of whom were very nervous, acquiring extremely fast erections as I hugged them tightly in my bra and panties. Oh well. Next time, they'll know better than to get beat by a girl! Yeah! I still know nothing about cards or even how poker is played. What is raise and call and fold all about? I just simply lost and lost until I changed the rules altogether and raised the stakes.

It took me about twenty minutes to say goodbye to the crew, but I did not make the mistake of putting on my dress before walking up the stairs! Instead, I just walked barefooted back to my cabin carrying it wrapped around my Cookie Monster doll.

When I opened the door to my cabin, the lights were out, but Alan in bed. I slipped out of my underwear and slid between his legs and licked his cock once. He jerked slightly and pulled me up to kiss him. I find him extremely attractive though he told me later he thinks of himself as quite plain looking. I kissed him passionately, as if trying to prove that deaf girls are better than hearing girls in bed. I think he knew.*

I slid back down over him, my nipples lightly scraping his neck, chest, belly, and thighs until my mouth found his cock again. By now it had lengthened considerably, and its thickness had filled out. With just my mouth, I lifted the heavy cock into my mouth and struggled to open my jaw wide enough to get the head in. I couldn't! His foreskin wasn't thin like some guys, but instead was really thick. I put one hand underneath the heavy shaft and lifted it. I stroked the shaft down, but his foreskin still covered his cockhead. I stuck my tongue and licked inside the foreskin until I felt his cocktip and tasted his precum. Mmmm, it was wonderful. At this moment I was willing to do anything he wanted. If he wanted to fuck me in the ass right there with that big cock I would have let him.

Holding his shaft in one hand, I used my other hand to peel his foreskin back, finally revealing his wet cockhead. It was dripping with precum, which was slippery enough to eventually allow me to slip my lips and mouth over his cockhead. But he was so thick that I couldn't go any deeper. I didn't realize it until I released my mouth from him that I had my hands spaced comfortably on his prickshaft – he was a two-hander! Trust me, girls LOVE a "two-handed man" as I call it.

Later I swore he came in my mouth, but he promised he didn't, just a lot of precum. He pulled me up and over him, positioning my pussy right over his mouth, and configuring us into a perfect 69 position. I made love to his big cock with my mouth for what seemed like the longest time, constantly distracted by either orgasm or near orgasm from his tongue. God, he was very, very good with his tongue! Every time I started to cum, I lifted my mouth off his prick and moaned or cried in heat, which made my pussy just drip. I couldn't take it anymore, so I crawled down onto his crotch and slid my slit up and down his thick shaft, wetting him down to the base.

I held his fat meat (I'd guess he was at least nine inches long, given my inexact hand measurements of his cock) between my legs and slowly, painfully corkscrewed myself down onto him. With only the head inside me, I stopped, out of breath and unwilling to go any further for the moment. I had to wait and adjust to his thickness first. God, he felt huge inside me! We fucked like animals for a couple of hours and I was getting really sore. I had not been stretched like this in a long, long time, and I'd forgotten that though it is a painful pleasure, it's still painful to accommodate someone that size for so long.

He said he still had not cum, apparently thinking he was impressing me, but I wanted him to cum! I was hurting too much and got off of him and asked him to cum in my mouth. So I propped him up with pillows on the bunk with his legs off the edge, sat on my knees between his thighs and gave him the sluttiest blowjob you can imagine. I would've put porn stars to shame with this blowjob – it was given out of loving, submissive lust. I cupped his balls in one hand and jacked him off with my other. I loved the way his cock looked - when I would slide the shaft back, the cocktip would barely peep out! Within a few minutes, he was cumming and flooded my mouth, I jacked every rope and drop into my mouth, swallowing twice, but my tonsils and tongue were coated. Like a good girl, I swallowed every drop, then cleaned his penis with my tongue from tip to base.

He left to his cabin and I slept for only three hours before getting up. I was awake, so I simply got up. Wish I wouldn't have, though. I was so sore that I could barely walk the entire day. I talked to everyone but Alan all day, mostly avoiding him and when others weren't looking I was holding my belly. I felt like I'd been fucked by a horse last night, and I wanted to make sure it wouldn't be the last time, either.



_________________
The End
© Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.com