Cruising Amish

(Author's note: the following story came about as a friendly challenge between myself and sr71plt. We went with the same basic theme -- an Amish couple going on a honeymoon cruise -- but diverged significantly from there. Keep in mind as you are reading this tale that it is as much about group sex as it is about gay male sex. If sex between men turns you off, this may not be the story for you. Please also accept that I did my research for this story, and despite popular belief otherwise, the Amish can indeed go on cruises. Enjoy the story.)

* * * *

Standing before the assembled crowd of their two families within his father's home, Abel gazed upon his wife with a confused mixture of emotions. My wife, he thought. Why does that sound so strange?

She smiled back, petite and lovely in her new, handcrafted blue dress. Blonde hair so fine and fair flowed back from her face, framed in a bonnet and braided down her back. She was as beautiful as he remembered from two years before, when he had left on his Rumspringa. Even more so, now that she had grown from a waifish child to a grown woman of marriageable age.

So much has happened in these two years, he mused.

"<Now we are husband and wife,>" she said in Pennsylvania Deutsch, a sparkle in her pale blue eyes. "<I will make you a proud father.>"

"<And I will make you a dutiful mother.>" They kissed, turned to their families, and the ceremony was over. The wives and mothers of the community bustled about to prepare for dinner, and Ilse joined them to fulfill her part, after another quick kiss for her new husband.

"<I have to say I am glad you returned,>" said Abel's father as he stepped up beside his son. "<You took longer on your running around than any of your brothers.>"

Abel blushed slightly. "<As did you, according to Mother.>"

The Petermann patriarch smiled. "<Very true. We are both seventh sons of seventh sons. Strange and wondrous things happen in our lives. Sometimes, it takes a bit of extra thought to sort them out.>"

Abel dipped his head, recalling fragments of recent memories. "<How right you are, Father.>"

The older man laughed, clutching his son's shoulder. "<I have no wish to hear about your adventures. Your time in the outside world was for you alone. That is, until now.>"

Abel frowned, a twinge of worry blossoming in his chest. What does he know of my Rumspringa?

But his father handed him a large envelope with a wink. "<I think it fitting that you and your lovely new wife should have some time together, away from the community, before beginning your life here.>"

Abel hesitantly opened the envelope, finding glossy slips of paper within that showed images of a very large cruise ship and some of it's finer attractions. Beyond that were two tickets. He looked upon them with bewilderment for a moment before the reality of the gift dawned upon him. "A cruise?" he asked, unintentionally slipping back into English.

"<Yes, a cruise. To the Bahamas, no less. Give you two a little bit of sun before you come back home. You'll take a train tomorrow to Pittsburgh, and a plane from there to Miami. And then you'll have seven days at sea.>"

Abel smiled awkwardly. "<I don't know what to say, Father. Thank you.>"

His father grinned. "<Thank me with grandchildren.>"

* * * *

Ilse had been quietly ecstatic when Abel gave her the news. He showed her the tickets as they lay in bed, recovering from their first union as husband and wife. The pot-belly stove in the corner blazed, filling the room with warmth and casting flickering, amber fingers across their naked bodies.

"I can't believe we're going on a cruise," Ilse said, beaming. "After all that time you spent outside, and now he's sending you back out there."

"Us," Abel corrected, kissing Ilse's cheek.

She smiled at him. "Us," she repeated.

* * * *

Thomas set the large, handcrafted bag on the ground beside Abel. All around them, the stench and boisterousness of the city was an oppressive thing, and the airport was even more so. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, although there were a few who slowed and cocked their heads at the sight of the young Amish couple. With their plain, reserved manner of dress, they clashed with their surroundings.

"Okay, little brother, that's everything you need," Thomas said with a huff. He looked so much more distinguished, Abel thought, with the beard that until the day before, Abel himself was forbidden to grow. While only three years separated them, to Abel, Thomas seemed infinitely older.

"Thank you, Thomas," Abel said, offering his hand.

Thomas clasped it with a smirk, pressing a small plastic card to his brother's palm.

Abel looked down at what he held. The Visa logo was unmistakable. He raised a questioning eye to his brother.

"The six of us pitched in," Thomas explained. "We figured you might want to have a little extra fun. Father doesn't know about this, and he won't. It's just that, well, you need to use the cruise pass to buy anything on the ship, and since Father's paying for that, he gets the receipt, and . . . ."

Abel nodded in understanding. "I understand. So, how much is on the card?"

Thomas rolled his shoulders. "A little less than three hundred. Jacob was a cheapskate; we all put in fifty, but he only gave twenty."

Abel chuckled and waved the card between them. "We'll drink to you all."

"You better," said Thomas. They both looked back to the idling taxi in which Ilse still sat, demure and waiting her cue. Even more than the two Amish brothers, she seemed severely out of place in her unflattering dress.

"Just, um . . . don't come back with anything too embarrassing to explain," Thomas said, giving Abel a meaningful look, then laughed.

"Otherwise, don't come back at all?"

Soberness returned to Thomas' face. "Exactly."

* * * *

As a proper wife should, Ilse sat quietly beside her new husband on the airplane, something she had never been in before, and despite some airsickness, she maintained her composure throughout the trip. Once in Miami, however, she seemed to open up and look around at the city passing by. More than once she commented on the minimal clothing worn by men and women outside the taxi.

"Well, it's much warmer here than in Pennsylvania," Abel told her.

As the taxi idled at a stoplight, Ilse stared wide-eyed at a bronze-skinned Hispanic woman who crossed the street clad in nothing more than a bikini and sunglasses. "Are people going to be dressed like that on the cruise ship?" she asked.

Abel chuckled. "I'm sure they will," he said, then cupped her chin, bidding her to look at him. He met her eyes. "We can get you one of those, just for this trip."

Ilse swallowed nervously. "If . . . if you want me to wear something like that, I . . . I will."

Abel smiled affectionately. "This is our special time away from home," he said. "If we can't be a little wild now, we'll never have the chance again."

Slowly, Ilse nodded. Despite her reservations, she was beginning to feel a sense of excitement.

* * * *

The cruise ship was immense, the largest thing Abel and Ilse could ever imagine sitting upon water. It seemed impossible that so gargantuan a thing did not sink under its own bulk.

Nervousness returned to Ilse as they waited to embark. The line of couples and families was as long as the ship itself, it seemed. Many of them looked the Amish couple over with interest, even amusement, as if they were aliens from a different world.

"I didn't think you Amish people could go on cruises," a round-bodied man, standing with his family ahead of them, remarked. "I mean, ain't that against your religion or something?"

"It is against the ordnung to own most modern technology," Abel explained. "But we can still use it sometimes."

The man shrugged. "Something I didn't know," he said. "But, you guys don't have cars, or TV, or phones, right?"

Abel gave a placating smile. "We have a telephone booth for our community."

The round man nodded slowly. "Oh . . . okay," he said, then returned his attention to his family.

"Abel," Ilse whispered, tugging on her husband's sleeve. "Is everyone going to stare at us like this?"

He touched her face. "Not once we change our clothes," he said, indicating the shopping bag he held. "Well, they probably will, but in a different way."

Again, Ilse swallowed nervously. But the pinpoint of excitement in her chest was growing rapidly.

* * * *

When a ship is so large you need to have elevators on it . . . Abel trailed off in his thoughts as he led his wife down the carpeted hall toward their cabin. Ilse looked about in bewilderment, noting the framed posters advertising various shows, casinos, and other things to do -- rock climbing? On a ship at sea? -- nearly tripping her husband as she endeavored to stay as close to him as possible. She was such a proverbial fish out of water that Abel was afraid she might suffocate.

Their cabin was a pleasant surprise. A queen-sized bed filled most of the room, facing a wall unit with a television, some shelving, and a few decorative nick-knacks. There was a bathroom with a shower stall just inside the door, and across the bed, beyond a small space in which sat a bistro-style table and two chairs, was a sliding glass door that opened onto an enclosed balcony.

"I do not want to know how much your father paid for all this," Ilse breathed as she stepped into the room.

Abel chuckled. "The business of selling furniture is a good business," he remarked. He shook the shopping bag, after setting their suitcase upon the bed.

Standing before the balcony door, Ilse turned back with a blushing smile, anticipating what her husband had purchased. "Are you going to have me wear something scandalous?" she asked coquettishly.

Abel grinned. "It would only be scandalous if they found out back home."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ilse was not the docile wife she was expected to be. She held his gaze, and her smile grew. "May I see what terribly revealing garment you purchased for me?"

Abel's dark eyes glittered as he reached into the bag to extract the garment. He held it up, letting the bag fall to the floor. Ilse's eyes widened; her mouth fell agape. "Oh . . . my," she muttered. Tentatively, she stepped around the bed to take it from him. "Is this . . . is this it?"

"Oh, there are sandals, too."

She blinked her blue eyes. "Sandals."

He nodded, then indicated the bathroom door. "Why don't you try it on?"

Numbly, Ilse stepped past with a swish of her voluminous dress, and closed the door behind her in the bathroom.

* * * *

Abel sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window at the open sea. The ship was yet to depart; he recalled reading in the brochure that they would not leave Miami until around 6 in the evening. That was hours from now. Still, most of the restaurants, bars and other venues would already be open, not to mention, of course, the pools.

"Abel?"

He cocked his head, calling over his shoulder. The muted sound of his wife's voice told him she was still in the bathroom. "Is everything all right?" he called.

". . . I think so . . . ."

With a chuckle, Abel rose from the bed and approached the bathroom. Standing just outside, he asked, "does it fit?"

"Well . . . I guess that would be one way to put it. I wonder, actually, how I'll keep it from falling off."

Abel arched an eyebrow. Now, wouldn't that be a shame? "Why don't you just come out, let me look at you."

Silence was his response.

"Ilse?"

"Just . . . a moment . . . ."

He waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, he raised his hand to rap knuckles against the door, but stopped himself. She's barely eighteen, Abel, he told himself. Give her some time.

He turned away, but just then, the latch sounded on the door. He turned back.

"Oh . . . ."

They both spoke at the same time, drinking in the sight of one another. Ilse had not expected to see her new husband as he now was, clad in nothing more than a slim-fitting pair of dark green nylon briefs. His mostly-bare body bore the slim but muscular frame of a man used to hard work; every muscle was clearly detailed. And even with the dark fabric covering his groin, the outline of Abel's impressive penis was noticeable.

As for Ilse . . . .

Abel found it strange that, even though their union had been consummated the night before, he had never fully appreciated his young wife's body. Certainly, he had never seen her in such miniscule garb. The soft yellow bikini was a two-piece, with the triangles atop covering little more than her areolas, leaving the swell of her small but uplifted breasts visible. The bottoms covered her sex, but only barely; ethereal wisps of fine blonde hair protruded around the edges just between her legs. Ilse's figure was slender and toned, with the slightest swell to her smooth stomach.

"I think it's a little small," she remarked, looking down at the bikini bottom. "My nether hair is poking out."

Abel smiled, fighting off the surge of his libido. "Well, many women, as I understand it, shave away some of their hair down there. Some even shave it all off."

"All of it?" Ilse asked dubiously. "I would look like a child!"

He chuckled. "Well, maybe just a trim would do, then," he suggested.

"I suppose," she said, unconvinced.

"It will be fine," he assured her, taking Ilse's narrow shoulders in his hands. "Just do it quickly; we have an entire ship to explore."

"Like this?" she asked, stupefied.

"I doubt we will be the only ones." He lowered his head to kiss her soft lips. "You are a beautiful woman, Ilse. If there is any time in a man's life he could be proud to show off his wife, it would be now."

She drew in a nervous, shuddering breath, but nevertheless smiled. "Don't you leave me for a second," she warned.

"I promise."

* * * *

With nothing more than his wallet and a map of the ship in hand, Abel led his wife through the corridors of the cruise liner. Their cabin was not far from one of the open decks, and as he had assured her, they were not the only ones dressed for the beach. Indeed, anything more than a bikini or shorts seemed to be a rarity.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Ilse intoned, clutching Abel's hand as they looked upon the scene before them. "I had no idea it would be like this."

"Neither did I," Abel echoed.

They stood atop a set of whitewashed metal stairs that descended to a massive pool area around which were two open bars. Beyond the first pool was an area with canopied tables, and then another, larger pool beyond. Finally, just past that was a towering formation of false rock, which Abel deduced was the "rock wall" he had read about in the brochure.

There were people everywhere, many of them getting a head start on their vacation through alcohol. Music filled the air, almost magically, with no obvious source in sight. The atmosphere was friendly, joyous, and more than a little hedonistic.

"Abel," whispered Isle, leaning close to her husband. "People . . . are looking at me."

He smiled upon her and gave his wife another kiss. "That's because you're gorgeous," he said. "Better get used to it."

They took two steps down the stairs before Ilse jerked his hand once more. "Abel!" she hissed. "That woman! I can see her entire behind!"

"She's wearing a thong," he explained.

Two steps later: "That man! Is he wearing a woman's bikini?"

Abel rolled his eyes, then stepped down before his wife until they were eye level. "Are you going to be like this all week?"

Her large round eyes chastened, and she dipped her head. "I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I won't embarrass you."

His fingertips graced the line of her jaw. She was already growing warm beneath the sun. Color was evident on her cheeks. "I know this is all knew to you. It's all right to be surprised. Just try not to be so obvious."

She nodded stiffly. "I will. I promise."

He smiled. "Now. Let's have a drink."

* * * *

The two bars were standing room only, so after ordering a couple of over-priced cocktails -- a moment's nervousness crossed Abel's mind as the bartender swiped his cruise pass -- the newlyweds found a spot by the railing overlooking the decks below. Men and women were already claiming deck chairs and laying out in the sun. Some of them matched Ilse's simple beauty; most did not. Then there were those few women who had obviously made it their career to look sexy, having gone to lengths to secure the perfect tan, the perfect breasts, the perfect hair . . . Abel could only shake his head at such women. Their mere appearance spoke to him of selfishness and materialism.

Unlike my wife, he thought, looking to Ilse as she stood in profile, sipping a vibrant drink topped with a paper umbrella. Lord, she truly is beautiful.

There were men to match the over-the-top temptresses parading around, men in the skimpiest of Speedos with massive arms, chiseled muscles and sporting brilliantly white smiles which must have cost thousands. Abel truly pitied them.

"Is this what it was like during your Rumspringa?"

Ilse's question startled him as he was shaking his head in wonder at a man with an uncommonly muscular frame, clad in a straw cowboy hat, white bikini, and deck shoes.

"What?" he asked.

Her sweet smile remained. "I mean, I don't think it was like this," she said, indicating the cruise ship and all it contained. "But, did you go to places where women dress in bikinis and there was all this music, and drinking, and . . . and . . . well?"

Abel laughed. "I guess I haven't really told you much about my time away," he said.

She met his gaze, what little alcohol she had already imbibed making her bold. "You haven't told me anything," she said meaningfully.

He took a breath and let his gaze return to the ocean upon which they -- and thousands of others -- would soon be traveling. "I guess I could just quote something from the Good Book about a wife minding her husband," he said. He looked back to Ilse. "But I won't. I was away for two years. I learned a few things."

"Two years, two months and, um, several days," she corrected him, blushing slightly around her straw.

He chuckled. "One of the things I learned was how outsiders -- some of them -- listen to one another. A husband and wife here aren't the same as we are back home in Pennsylvania. They treat each other as equals."

Ilse thought a moment. "But the ordnung says I am yours. You are my voice as surely as you are your own."

We shifted closer and winked. "Not tonight," he said. "Not on this entire trip. Do you understand? I want you to speak your mind."

She looked away. "I . . . I'll try."

Abel slipped back slightly and took a sip of his drink. He was obviously more comfortable with their surroundings than his wife. "Father gave me some money before I left, and I used it to buy a car," he revealed with a nostalgic chuckle. "It took me a while to learn to drive it. I should have gotten an automatic."

She stared at him in amazement. "You had a car?"

He nodded. "Yes, I did. And I started driving. I had no idea where to go, so I bought a map. I ended up in a city called Savannah, which isn't too far away from here. Lots of beaches. There were also a lot of restaurants, and one of them was looking for a dish washer. So I got a job.

"For weeks, I saved up money, sleeping in my car and going to work every day. Then I rented a room in one of the houses near the beaches. I spent a lot of time there. Sometimes, I'd go into the city, to book stores, to restaurants, to music stores . . . and bars and night clubs."

"How many girls did you meet?" Ilse asked slyly.