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Summer Leigh – Boob Cruise Paradise Pt. 3

Boob Cruise Paradise Pt. THREE

Boob Cruise Paradise Pt. 3

What did it mean to sail on the Boob Cruise? It meant staggering to couch each evening at four a.m. and awaking up two hours later for another day of action and a recent island. It meant eating at a busy table of full-bosomed shipmates where there is at no time a silent pont of time. It meant dancing with a scantily-clad gal who laughed when her larger than standard wobblers fell without her dress. It meant looking at a pure black sky and noticing the stars adore never in advance of. It meant the heady scent of suntan lotion and sweat emanating from suntanned girl-flesh. It meant living in your own separate world, and soever was happening back home, well, that didn’t matter. The ship was the world.

This ship, the Star Clipper, sailed to Anguilla, Prickly Pear Island, St. Maarten, Tortola, Virgin Gorda and other islands that almost all people know about solely from journey magazines and television.

This leg of Boob Cruise Paradise kicks off with the morning aerobics class on deck. This every single day workout was open to everyone although most of the lads were still sleeping off the previous night or on their second cup of coffee. A dunky in number were on the sidelines watching the greater than standard stylish show as the girls in their skimpy gym gracious clothing moved in unison. Morning and early afternoon photo discharges were the instruct of the day, both on the deck and on Virgin Gorda. The evening was for dinner followed by undress displays performed by the high-reaching exotic dancers and then climaxing with partying all over the ship until early morning. The booze and the milk shakes flowed freely.

Wrote Chuck, returning passenger and the ship’s log corporalist that year, “To be appropriately blunt, and from talking to the dudes, I suppose I speak for everybody who went on Boob Cruise ’98, the merely bad thing about this whole week is leaving! I swear, if anybody were to handcuff all of the passengers and cuties to the ship and hand me the key, I’d toss it overboard!”

“I tell everybody that Boob Cruise ’98 was the wildest week of my life,” recalled passenger P.R. “And that includes innumerable Mardi Gras, fraternity parties, bachelor parties and other parties. I came for the women, and they were anything I thought they’d be and more, but I too enjoyed my stay due to the great lads I met on the Cruise, the SCORE workers and the whole sailing experience!”

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