Huh... she's right.

"Hmm," you frown, walking toward the bow of the ship, "I forgot to bring a bottle of champagne to break."

"Don't worry," Gemma smiles, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down around your ankles, "I can think of another way we can do it."

She kneels down behind you and slips her hand between your legs, grasping a hold of your semi-hardcock. You feel her face nestle in between your asscheeks, and her long tongue begins probing away at the entrance to your asshole while she begins stroking her tiny hand up and down the length of your shaft. She takes deliberate care to run the platinum band of her diamond engagement ring up and down the underside of your cock as it completely stiffens, letting the cold smoothness of it send shivers up your spine.

Her other hand reaches around and grasps your balls, kneading them firmly in rhythm with the firm strokes of your cock. She pulls her head back slightly, letting her breath wash over your saliva-slicked asshole, creating a tingling cold sensation on the surface of your skin. She plunges her tongue back in and begins swirling clockwise and counterclockwise, back and forth on the soft skin of your asshole. At the same time, she rubs her thumb on the underside of the head of your cock in tiny circles and rolls your balls between her fingers. You groan at the three points of circular pressure working in unison and feel yourself unable to hold back for much longer.

"Isn't christening a boat supposed to be for good luck?" she asks, pulling her head back from your ass for one moment.