Chapter 72

And, eureka, before Poseidon's Spear cleared Hampton Roads and was sailing out into the Atlantic, Peter's research assured him that he was the only one on this cruise who looked and acted the part of a sugar daddy—apart from the forties-something captain, who had his own entirely different avenue for dipping his d*ck as he pleased. Peter left nothing to chance that evening. When he answered the knock on the cabin door and determined by look through the keyhole that it was Eric, as expected, Peter had the lights out, music with a jungle beat going softly and subliminally in the background, and all he was wearing was a silver silk robe, open in a swath at the front that followed the line of his sculpted chest hair down to his sucked-in belly and then on down to where his proudly displayed penis and balls reached for the floor. The only light was what was coming from the corridor with the door open and a filtering of moonlight through the gauze draperies at the balcony door. When the cabi