Ferry Moonlight: Her Off-Limits Captain Claims Her
Terrence cucks his husband by letting Gideon brutally claim his wife on the ferry.
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The private ferry rocked gently against the dock under a fat silver moon, lanterns strung along the rail casting warm pools of light across the empty deck. Terrence had paid extra for the solo evening run, just him and Gwen, champagne chilling in a bucket, a thick blanket folded on the bench. Thirty-eight years old and still clumsy with romance, he had planned every detail to claw back some of the heat that had leaked out of their marriage. Gwen, thirty-six, looked soft and luminous in a thin white dress that clung when the breeze pressed it to her thighs. He took her hand, heart already hammering with hope.
Then the wheelhouse door opened and Gideon stepped out.
Twenty-six, tall, easy grin, white captain’s shirt open at the throat, dark hair still damp from a shower. The same neighbor who lived two doors down. The same man Terrence had watched three weeks earlier through a crack in the gym locker-room door while Gwen’s legs shook around Gideon’s wrist. Terrence’s stomach dropped so hard he tasted metal. Gwen’s fingers tightened on his. Her eyes lit up, pupils blown wide with naked recognition and hunger she didn’t even try to hide.
“Evening,” Gideon said, voice low and amused. He didn’t look surprised. “Harbor master said this charter was under my name tonight. Small world.”
Terrence forced a smile that felt like cracked glass. “Yeah. Small.”
Gideon cast off with casual competence, engine thrumming as the ferry slid into open water. Moonlight chased them. Terrence steered the conversation toward the two of them—how long it had been since they’d had a night alone, how he wanted to touch her the way he used to. Gwen answered in soft, distracted tones, but her gaze kept sliding to the broad shoulders at the wheel. When Gideon killed the engine and let them drift under the moon, the silence stretched thick.
Gwen broke it first. She turned on the bench so her knee brushed Terrence’s, but she spoke straight to Gideon.
“You know what I told him the last time he was inside me?” Her voice was raw, almost conversational. “I told him his dick feels like a starter cock now. Cute. Quick. Missionary for four minutes and he’s done, apologizing. Yours ruined me. That thick fucking ridge, the way you stretch me until I can’t think. I’ve been sneaking over every Tuesday while Terrence is at late meetings. I drop to my knees in your kitchen and choke myself on it until my mascara runs. Then I go home and let my husband kiss me with your taste still on my tongue.”
Terrence’s face burned. His cock twitched traitorously against his zipper. He stared at the dark water and said nothing.
Gideon left the wheel. He crossed the deck in three long strides, stopped in front of them, and simply hooked two fingers in the neckline of Gwen’s dress. He pulled. The fabric stretched, one strap sliding down her arm, the upper curve of her breast bare to the night air. Terrence made a small broken sound. Gideon ignored him, eyes on Gwen.