Dark Tide

by Ben Boswell

  Oh God, Captain, you are so much better than my husband. I won’t even be able to feel him after you.

  She laughed, again as if reading my thoughts. “Okay,” she said amused. “Maybe that one is more a feature than a bug.”

  “Probably, but consider me duly warned. Next?”

  “It ends when I want it to end.”

  I nodded. “Of course. Just say the word and it’s over.”

  She smiled. “Yes, but I meant it another way too.”

  “Oh.” She wanted not just to be able to cut it short, but to extend it.

  “How long?”

  “Well, our cruise ends on Saturday, so that would be the hard limit.”

  My stomach did a flip. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking… if I’m having fun, I might not want it to end.”

  “I don’t know, honey. What if you’re right? What if it does tear me apart? I’d like to be able to stop it.”

  “You’re the one who said there was ‘no risk’ here.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But that was when you thought you’d be in control.”

  I nodded.

  “I think it will do you good to understand how other people feel risk.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Exactly,” she replied. “You never have.”

  “This is about something bigger, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I’m not punishing you. I’m just noting the parallels. You said there was no risk in start-ups. If you fail, you just start again. It’s a great attitude. It’s what’s made you successful. But that’s never the way I felt it. For me, it was terrifying.”

  “I always took care of you.”

  “Yes. But I had to rely on you. We had two kids before I was 25. I was pregnant when I graduated and have never had a real job. You never saw the risk because you were out there in the trenches. Working hard, but in control. But me? I had to surrender my future. I have no regrets. Marrying you was the best decision I’ve made in my life. And that would be true even if Trion had failed. But there were days when I was sick with worry, when I was desperate to ask you to stop it, to just get a fucking normal job. I never did. I trusted you. And now, you’re going to need to trust me.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry –“

  She laughed. “No. That’s not what I want. I just want you to trust me like I trust you.”

  “I do trust you.”

  “Then trust that if I see you’re really hurting, I’ll pull the plug.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Last condition. You can’t get upset if I do things I’ve never done before.”

  “Such as?”

  Another shrug. “I don’t have anything specific in mind. I just want to be able to let go and go with the flow.”

  The image returned. Jennifer in the shower, pressed up against the glass, Wallace behind her cramming his fat tool into her ass.

  “Okay,” I croaked out.

  She finished off her meal and gave me a smile. “That’s it.”

  I looked down at my own plate and saw I hadn’t even taken a bite.

  “You should eat, it’s delicious.”

  I nodded. “So, when? Tonight?”

  She shook her head. “Calm down. I want you to sleep on it before making a decision. Eat, relax, and give me your answer tomorrow.”

  “I can give you my answer now.”

  “I know, but I’m not ready to accept it.”

  “Okay.” I realized that part of what she needed from me was to accept that she was in charge and that meant not just about the sex, but also about the timing of my response.

  I threw up my hands in surrender. “Okay.”

  She smiled.

  ***

  I’m not even completely sure what we talked about after. Small talk. At least I hope. I wasn’t in any state to think about anything else of import. I kept replaying the conversation in my mind. She’d do what I want, but only if I completely surrendered control. That’s what it came down to. I had to trust her to fulfill my fantasy and accept the possibility that she’d take in directions I never intended.

  I had to admire the way she’d structured things. Sure, a lot of it was about her own comfort. But part of it, I knew, was teaching me a lesson, forcing me to choose between my craving for excitement and my desire for control. Or maybe not. It was sort of ego-centric to phrase it that way, as if it were all about me. But then again, the whole thing was selfish in a way. I had this fantasy, this crazy dirty fantasy, and I wanted my wife to fulfill it.

  Except, I knew she’d enjoy it too. She wanted it as well. And in a way, I was giving her a treat. Letting her cut loose and do the sort of thing she might have done on her own had I not locked her into marriage and motherhood in her early twenties.

  Ha. I’d managed to make my desire to see my wife fuck a black man into some sort of noble sacrifice. I was an asshole.

  I wanted to slap myself. I hated this sort of bullshit navel-gazing. That’s the difference between thinkers and doers. Thinkers never accomplish anything because they can’t get out of their own fucking heads. Losers. And yet…

  Yet, nothing... The image of our tall, lean, muscular captain between my wife’s thighs was intoxicatingly hot. I wanted it.

  “Help me with the zipper?” Jennifer asked.

  We’d finished dinner and dessert and returned to our cabin. There was a bottle of chilled champagne on a small table, beside a bowl of strawberries. I wondered if that was just Thom’s consideration or whether Jennifer had requested it.

  I reached down and slowly drew down the zipper on my wife’s gorgeous white dress. Strapless, it immediately slid down, pooling at her ankles. My eyes were drawn to her ass, her perfect little ass, bisected by a thin, white strip of gossamer lace. She turned to face me, and I shook my head in wonder. Fuck, she was sexy. Her barely-there bra and panties somehow even more erotic than bare nakedness.

  Her eyes went to the champagne. I took the hint and cracked open the bottle, pouring us each a glass. I brought over the bowl of strawberries.

  “You look amazing,” I said.

  She took a strawberry in her mouth and took a sensuous bit. A sip of champagne.

  “I wanted to remind you of what you’re thinking of giving away.”

  I didn’t know how to reply.

  “Because,” she continued, “tomorrow night, if you don’t change your mind, I’ll be doing this for another man.”

  “I know,” I groaned.

  “He’ll be the one helping me out of my clothes.”

  She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the ground.

  “Seeing my breasts.”

  She cupped her own boobs, lifting them.

  “Squeezing my nipples.”

  She tweaked her nipples until they stood out from her chest, swollen and hard.

  She edged her thumbs into her panties.

  “Stripping me naked.”

  She pulled her panties down, past her hips, letting gravity take them the rest of the way down.

  I stared at her, nude save for her heels, a blond goddess.

  “Is that what you want?” she asked.

  My mouth was too dry to speak. I took a sip of champagne. “Yes.”

  She walked over to me, and put her hands on my shoulders. A little pressure. Not enough to move me, but enough to send a message.

  I dropped to my knees so that I was facing her pretty, blond pussy. I reached around and grabbed her hard ass, pulling her close, burying my face in her snatch.

  She moaned loudly as I began to lick and suck her cunt. I squeezed her ass, pulling her cheeks apart, even as I sucked her clit into my mouth. Normally she’d consider my approach too aggressive, but there was nothing normal about our sexual appetites the last few days. She wrapped her hands around my head, pulling me close, and at the same time she lifted her right leg over my shoulder so that she
was straddling me.

  She was completely exposed to me like that, I am took advantage by licking her all over, my tongue pressing into her juicy slit, sucking on her swollen labia. She growled lustily and thrust against me, humping my face even as I ate her out.

  “Oh God,” she cried out suddenly, twitching and grunting in passion.

  She seemed to go limp, still straddling me, but now slumped over as if her spine had turned to jelly. I picked her up, carried her to the bed and laid her down on the covers. I quickly stripped off my shirt and climbed onto the mattress. Her pussy beckoned to me, spread, wet, pulsing with excitement. I lifted her legs, pressed her thighs to her chest, pushing down on her hamstrings. She was completely open, exposed.

  I again lowered my face to her sex.

  “No, no more,” she moaned. But unusually, she didn’t push me away.

  I brushed aside her feeble protest and began eating her out again, this time with long tongue strokes over her entire slit. I went lower, licking her perineum as she bucked and sighed. Then lower still until my tongue was tickling her puckered butthole.

  “Oh God, Jeremy, what are you doing?”

  “Eating your ass,” I replied, as surprised as she was. “Do you like it?”

  She let out a low, deep growl. “Yesss.”

  We were operating under an unspoken agreement not to mention Reg Wallace and the fantasy. Until tomorrow morning, it was just us. And yet, it hung over us. As I tasted her butt for the first time, as she enjoyed the sensation of my tongue on her anus, I know we were both thinking of her final condition. The warning, tease, whatever, that she was going to go with the flow, no limits, no boundaries.

  As I continued to lick her ass, I let my thumb slide over her swollen clit. A gasp caught in her throat.

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  I pressed down on her sensitive button, my thumb working the hood of her clit, my tongue working its way deeper into her butt hole. I thought of her giving herself over to him. She always tended to be submissive in our games, and it occurred to me that with Reg she could surrender herself in a way she couldn’t with me. That was the meaning of her conditions. I’d see her doing things with him that might be hard for me to watch.

  She came hard, gasping, thrashing. So beautiful. So precious. So sexy. It was insane to think of sharing her. But the thought was so addictive. I couldn’t shake it.

  She grabbed my hair, yanked me painfully upward, and shoved me onto my back. She scampered over my body, frantically pulling down my pants, just enough to swallow my prick into her mouth. She was still gasping as she blew me sloppily, her spit running down my shaft and coating my balls. And then just as quickly, she swung a leg over me, impaled herself on my cock, facing away, reverse cowgirl.

  For a few moments, she just ground herself into my crotch, seeming to just enjoy the feeling of my cock inside her. Then she looked at me over her shoulder and gave me a cocky smile. Oh boy, this is going to be good.

  It was. She used all of her dancer tricks, working her perfect little ass up and down on my prick, slowing when she heard my moans intensify, quickening when I seemed more under control. Her pussy was swollen, her pussy lips more prominent than usual, sliding up and down my prick. When she leaned forward, it spread her cheeks, giving me an obscene view of her puckered anus, still glistening with my spit. Again, I pictured her with Reg, riding him like this, except that his fat cock was sliding into her tight, little ass. I shuddered at the image, my cock spurting inside my wife.

  She continued to ride me though, as if she wanted to enjoy every last second of my erection. I would have loved to fuck her again, but I knew I was done. A day’s worth of drinking and hot sun and three orgasms left me gassed. But seeing her ass continue to bounce up and down I realized that she could probably go all night.

  I’d sleep on it, but my mind was already made up. I needed to see it. To see Captain Wallace, that amazing physical specimen, give it to my beautiful wife like she’d never gotten it before.

  Chapter Five

  I woke up in my boxers and nothing else, my mouth dry and pasty. I hadn’t gotten out of bed since I’d drifted off in Jennifer’s arms as we cuddled after sex. She was still dozing. Especially when asleep, she looked like an angel, innocent, childlike almost. Thin wisps of blond hair crisscrossed her face. Her lips were curled in a small smile.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Hey beautiful,” I whispered.

  She blushed slightly. “Hey yourself.”

  “I love watching you sleep.”

  “That’s, um, a little creepy.”

  I chuckled. “I’ve done creepier things.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Panty sniffing?”

  I laughed. “No! Where did that come from?”

  “One of my old boyfriends did that. Walked in on him with one of my panties pressed to his nose.”

  “A used one?”

  She laughed. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s the point. Weird thing is, he didn’t like giving head. I was like, you want to smell, get down there and get to work.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Well, no. I dumped him, the weirdo.”

  “Do you think I’m weird?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, you have been acting weird recently. Not sure that’s the same thing though. Weirdo suggests a congenital condition. I’m thinking you’re suffering from some sort of temporary insanity.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

  “So, are you sane now?”

  I pulsed my emotions. The images flooded into brain in response. Jennifer, legs spread wide, Reg’s muscular ass rising and falling as he plunged into her. Jennifer, slippery with soap, pressed up against the shower glass as he had her from behind. Jennifer, riding him reverse cowgirl, pumping her hips as she took his cock in her ass.

  I shook my head slightly. “I’m afraid not.”

  “And my conditions?”

  “Fine. I’m okay with all of them. I just… I just want you to have fun. Let go. Be that crazy twenty-one year old again, carefree. That’s what I want to see.”

  “Are you—”

  “Sure?” I interrupted. “No, I’m not. It is scary, but that’s part of the thrill, I guess. Maybe you’re right about me being a junkie, craving a charge of excitement. But if that’s who I am, that’s who I am.”

  “We could take up sky diving,” she suggested.

  “Would you prefer that?”

  “Honestly? No.”

  “Because this turns you on too?”

  She nodded. “It does.”

  She paused, but I knew she had more to say, so I waited her out.

  “At first it was just, yeah he’s a hot guy. And then it was just fun talking about it because I saw it turned you on. But you’ve gotten me thinking about it so much that…”

  “You want it too?”

  She gave me a crooked smile. “Yeah, I guess. Or at least, I like thinking about it. It’s all been going through my mind. What I’d wear. What I’d say. How I’d tease him, let the tension build, seduce him.”

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head. “No, if we’re going to do this, I want you to see it too, experience it in the moment.”

  I groaned. God, she really did have my number.

  “I want to do it.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you have been disappointed if I’d wanted to pull the plug?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Relieved too. Hard to explain. But yes.”

  I smiled at her. That, more than anything, was what I wanted to hear. I knew she could make it hot for me even if she wasn’t into it. But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted her to be into it. And she was.

  “So what happens next?”

  She grinned. “Wait and see.”

  ***

  I got up and showered, dressed in swim trunks and a tee shirt and went out on deck. Thom had heard us stirring, and was ready with a fresh Bloody Mary and scrambled eggs.

>   It was another beautiful day. We were anchored by a crescent-shaped shoal. The water was turquoise, the breeze warm and salty. Not another boat in sight. Paradise.

  Wallace came over and I invited him to join me at the table. He took a seat and Thom brought him a coffee.

  “You’ll really enjoy this,” he said. “This is my favorite snorkeling spot. It isn’t the biggest, but it’s out of the way, so you’ll probably have the reef all to yourselves.”

  “How’d you find it?”

  He smiled. “This is a family business. My father captained charters, and I worked as his mate from when I was a kid.” He looked around at the yacht. “We never worked boats like this, though. I keep telling Denny what a lucky bastard he is, even if he doesn’t realize it when he’s mopping the deck.”

  “Is he your son?”

  He shook his head. “My nephew. Good kid.”

  “Are you married?” I asked. It suddenly occurred to me that Jennifer and I had been making plans on the assumption that he was available.

  “Divorced,” he replied.

  I gave a relieved sigh. He gave me a queer look. “Sorry to hear that,” I muttered.

  “She was my chef before Thom. But too much time in close quarters… you know how it is.” He paused. “Plus, she was a bitch.” He laughed.

  I laughed as well. “Well, I’m sure she was a great cook, but Thom is amazing.”

  He nodded. “He is, isn’t he? Plus he’s also an expert masseur. Has the table, oils, everything. Anyway, I’m glad you’re enjoying things thus far. Just let us know if we can do anything to improve the experience.”

  I couldn’t avoid grinning like an idiot. Oh, don’t worry, Captain we’ll be calling on you shortly. He looked at me like I was vaguely insane.

  Happily Jennifer arrived to take his attention away from me. She was looking particularly fetching in a simple white bikini and pink ball cap. The bikini wasn’t particularly skimpy, but fitted her perfectly, accentuating her curves. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, which jutted jauntily from the back of her cap. She reminded me of a college girl on spring break. I wondered if that was the impression she was trying to convey, if not to Reg, then at least to herself.