by Ben Boswell
“Mmmm,” she moaned with each mouthful as if she were devouring a particularly decadent dessert.
It wasn’t until that moment that it really struck me that he wasn’t using protection. Jennifer and I have been married long enough that condoms are no longer routine, and I knew she was on the pill. Or was she? We’d talked about having another child. I’d told her I’d be happy either way and it was her decision to take. Surely she wouldn’t do such a thing without telling me. But I would have been at least as sure that she wouldn’t fuck another man either. The thought of him impregnating her felt like a rock in the pit of my stomach, and yet also caused my cock to twitch so violently inside my pants that I almost came without touching myself.
I forced myself to take deep breaths, but almost lost it again when I realized my inhalations were synchronized with Jennifer’s as she bobbed up and down on that big, black cock.
Each time I looked at them I noticed new details. The way her tongue swirled around his glans on each upstroke. His huge hand resting possessively on her tiny ass, middle finger wedged firmly between her cheeks. The glint of her engagement ring as her hand moved up and down his thick shaft.
“…well?” The sound of Jennifer’s voice forced its way through the fog in my brain.
“Huh?”
She laughed. “I was asking you if you thought I should get this big thing back inside me?”
I nodded awkwardly but my reply died in my throat.
She giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She gracefully slung her leg over his heavily muscled torso and began grinding her pussy against his abs. I’d sort of wished she had mounted his reverse cowgirl so I could see her face as she screwed him, but she’d made it clear that she was going to do things that pleased her. And she wanted to see his face and his powerful torso as they fucked.
Anyway, I couldn’t really complain about the view, especially not when she rose up, momentarily rubbed his cock head between her wet lips and firmly impaled herself on his thick shaft.
She slowly rolled her hips, her hands resting on his powerful chest. He explored her body with his own massive paws, cupping her full breasts, handling her firm, round ass, caressing the side of her long, lean neck.
“Fuck that’s good,” she sighed. “I love your cock.”
“I love everything about you,” he replied.
“Where have you been all my life?”
He laughed. “Right here, on the ocean.”
“I should have come sooner,” she cooed. “I knew the minute I saw you, I would have you.”
“I knew it too,” he replied.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I could see it in your eyes.”
She shuddered slightly and began riding him faster.
“What did you see?”
“That you were hungry.”
“Hungry for your big black cock?”
He nodded and groaned affirmatively.
“That I was a dirty, little, white slut who wouldn’t be able to resist you.”
He replied by thrusting upward three times hard, making her squeal in delight.
“Did you think it would be like this?”
“No,” he admitted. “I thought you would sneak out one night. Find me on deck.”
“Oh God, I thought about it.”
He nodded as if to say, I know.
“And then what?” she prompted.
“We wouldn’t want to be caught. It would have been faster.”
She groaned, thinking about it. “And harder…. Rougher.”
His words seemed to carry her away. Though I couldn’t see her face, I was sure her eyes were closed as she imagined it. Making sure I was asleep, sneaking away from our cabin, finding him on deck. The quick, furtive glances that would follow. Her skimpy lingerie giving away the game without words. Fumbling with his clothes. Bending her over the bridge console. Entering her hard from behind.
Her movements became ragged as she bounced on him faster, impaling herself over and over on his thick tool. His hands were on her ass, urging her on. She moaned louder, louder, until the sound seemed to catch in her throat, transforming into a strained gurgling that might have been alarming in a different context, but here clearly signaled that she was lost to passion.
Slowly like a balloon deflating she collapsed onto his chest. He waited a moment to see if she wanted to disengage, but when she remained passively prone against him, her head curled into the crook of his neck, he began thrusting upward inside her. She gasped. I could imagine her hot breath on his cheek. He thrust again and again.
His large hands grabbed her ass, pulling her cheeks apart, allowing his fat tool to penetrate deeper. She moaned lustily. Another stroke and another, until he was pistoning inside her roughly, her puckered, pink asshole winking invitingly. As if sensing what I was seeing, the tip of his middle finger found her anus. She let out a hissing gasp as he pressed a fingertip inside her butt.
We’d never really played like that, but distracted as she was by his huge, churning cock, she didn’t object. She actually seemed to like it. Overcoming her exhaustion, her hips began to move, meeting his thrusts. He pressed his finger in deeper, only up to the second knuckle, but as large is were his digits it wasn’t far removed from taking a second cock.
“Oh God, what are you doing?” she groaned.
“Do you like it?”
“God yes,” she cried out.
As I stared in shock he added his index finger to the mix.
She groaned loudly as he began to fuck her ass with two, thick fingers in time with his oversized cock plunging into her tightly stretched cunt.
I gasped as well. This wasn’t my wife. This was some filthy, little, porno girl in a seedy interracial loop. Except it wasn’t. It was my wife. The mother of my children. Impaled on a fat cock, two fingers in her ass, moaning like a whore.
He thrust faster and faster. His cock became a blur. Her squeals louder and louder, higher and higher pitched. It was a large boat, but a small ship. I knew the others could hear her, would know that their captain was screwing my wife, and that she was loving it.
The wave crashed as waves do, suddenly with a sort of unexpected violence given the graceful swells that precede the explosion. Jennifer’s head rose upward and I could see that their eyes were locked. He thrust upward, she pumping her hips against him to meet his movements. She’d already come twice, couldn’t possibly come again, and yet she did, shuddering and moaning against his invading cock and fingers.
He crunched upward, muscles rippling. He groaned, loud, loud, then transitioned to a happy chuckle as he emptied himself insider her.
They took a cool down lap, each slowly grinding against the other amidst giggles and soft caresses. They were both glistening with sweat, their respective orgasms seeming to trigger a flush of body heat.
Finally, she rolled off him and they lay side-by-side, smiling and gasping, holding hands.
I stood and poured them each a glass of champagne.
“That was… impressive,” I said handing them the bubbly. “Did you have fun?”
She rolled her eyes at me. You have to ask?
Reg was sitting up, his arm draped modestly in his lap. I could see him shifting anxiously, wondering if he should leave, if things were about to go south.
Jennifer edged closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She reached out to clink glasses with him.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you?” she asked, though her eyes scanned me, making sure I was okay as well.
I laughed and clinked glasses with Reg. “I hope you took your vitamins.”
He looked from me to her and back to me. “You mean?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she’s done with you yet.”
“Not even close,” she cooed seductively as she drained her glass.
“Would you hold this?” she asked, handing me the flute.
I took the glass from her and chuckled ruefully as
she lowered her face into his lap and began slurping away at his flaccid, yet still impressively bulky prick.
I put down her glass and grabbed the bottle. There was just enough to top off his glass and mine.
As I refilled his bubbly I tried to reassure him, “I don’t think she’s ever fucked a man to death before… though I guess there is a first time for everything.”
He smiled a little awkwardly, contemplating, I think, the pros and cons of being screwed to death by my wife. But as she swallowed him deep, massaging his balls, I think he resigned himself to his fate.
***
As exciting as was what had gone before, I think definitely the high point of the evening was the second round. She’d sucked him hard and stood him on the floor at the foot of the bed, directing him to stay as still as possible.
Getting on her hands and knees she thrust back against him, slowly, her perfect ass moving in languid circles, working that big prick with her wet twat.
I gave up my posture of observer and instead sat on the bed beside her, massaging her upper back, clearing wet strands of hair from her face as she fucked Reg’s fat cock. She came twice more as she slowly, slowly fed his excitement.
As he got close, he placed his huge hand on her lower back, his thumb searching out the crack of her ass. I watched enthralled as he pressed the pad of his thumb into her ass. She groaned and ground against him harder.
“Give it to me baby,” she hissed, exhausted.
He seized her hips and thrust inside her hard.
“Ugh,” she cried out.
Again.
“Oh God.”
Again.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, desperately.
And then with a deep, satisfied chuckle he dropped a second load inside her. He continued to churn his cock in her sloppy pussy as if relishing those last moments he would be able to enjoy her. And yet, I knew, even if neither she nor he did, that things were just getting started.
Chapter Seven
I didn’t wake her when I got up the following morning.
After Reg left, Jennifer did her “wifely duty” and sucked me off. She wasn’t really into it, but I needed to come and was grateful that she offered. It still felt odd to think of jerking myself off while thinking of my wife with another man, so it was nice I didn’t have to. Weird the lines we draw.
When I got on deck, instead of Thom waiting for me with a cup of hot, rich coffee, I met up with Reg.
“I’m really sorry about last night,” he offered by way of greeting.
I laughed. And then laughed harder as he got annoyed at me laughing at him.
“Oh, relax, man,” I finally choked out. “You gave her the fuck of a lifetime.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have. It –“
“Stop it. Yeah, it wasn’t fucking professional. Big fucking deal. You had fun, she had fun, I… thought it was hot.”
He nodded and hesitated. “I… just –“
I nodded. “I don’t really understand it either. Okay? But it’s up to her.”
He shook his head incredulously.
“It… Jeez, I just want her to be happy. So, you know, whatever happens, happens, as far as I’m concerned.” It wasn’t even close to the whole truth, but really that’s all he needed to know.
He grinned.
“But, it has to be her choice,” I added.
“Of course,” he echoed.
Even though I knew we couldn’t stop him if he wanted more, I somehow knew he’d respect our… well… her, boundaries.
“I’m just along for the ride,” I added.
He nodded. But I could tell he was still curious.
“Go ahead,” I prompted.
“Well, it’s just, I know I asked already, but…. It’s hard to believe you haven’t done this before.”
I laughed. He seemed a little hurt. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re wife is so confident. She didn’t seem at all nervous, like she has some experience with this.”
That gave me weird little twinge. Could it be that this wasn’t the first time Jennifer had been with another man since our marriage?
“Well, she’s a not a virgin, you know,” I replied defensively.
“It’s just, we didn’t….”
Use protection. And then it struck me. He was worried she’d give something to him. That my wife was such a loose slut that he was in danger fucking her. That was another jolt.
I shook my head. “I promise, this is just a weird thing. We’ve never done this before. You should feel flattered.”
“Believe me, I do.”
He smiled, just a bit too widely. The message was unmistakable. Your wife is an amazing piece of ass.
I almost pushed back, but then I realized, he was right. I returned his smile.
“Okay, so what now,” he asked.
“So,” I replied. “I could use a coffee… some sort of rum coffee if Thom has a good idea. And you, I hope you got your rest.”
He shook his head and laughed. “I’ll let Thom know, and sir, I don’t think any amount of rest would be enough to keep up.”
I chuckled again. “Well, then, I guess it sucks to be you.”
But as he walked away, I couldn’t help but think about the conversation, and more about what had remained between the lines. His impression of my wife as an experienced, committed adulteress, sexually voracious, and dangerous.
***
By the time my wife appeared, I was deep into my third rum coffee. It was almost noon and we’d been cruising south along Cat Island, which is either named for some pirate named Arthur Catt or after its population of feral cats. Such are the vagaries of history.
Jennifer was moving slowly, and yet had managed to pull herself together enough to look stunning in a tan bikini and aviator glasses. As I looked closer, I realized her swimsuit was some sort of tightly wound mesh that nonetheless, I realize would rapidly become transparent in either water or sunlight.
We were still playing. Is it weird that I was at once shocked, pleased, painfully jealous, wildly turned on, angry, and ecstatic?
“You okay honey, you look a little worn out?” I taunted.
“Hung over,” I guess.
“I didn’t realize fucking could do that.”
She smirked, “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite fucked like that.”
Ouch. “Whore.”
She sat down opposite me. “Wimp.”
I broke first, laughing loudly for a moment before she joined me.
She stopped first. “Seriously, are we okay?”
I nodded. “Of course. It was my idea, remember.”
She nodded. It was.
“And you’re right, he did really work you over…. In a good way.”
She grinned. “I’ll say. I’m sore in places I didn’t know got sore. I think he bruised my spleen… or maybe my pancreas.”
“Not your gallbladder?”
She laughed.
“Do you want more?” I asked, nodding vaguely in the direction I’d last seen Reg.
She hesitated. “You first.”
I nodded. I’d been thinking about it most of the morning.
“I’m sure I’ll get tired of it at some point, but I have to admit, seeing you like that, with him, was an amazing rush. I’ve been spending the last couple of hour imagining the sequel.”
She laughed. “You’re sick.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but you didn’t have my vantage point last night.”
“I thought mine was pretty good.”
“Probably,” I admitted.
Thom appeared. I flushed, realizing again that he surely knew, by now, what had happened, or at least suspected it. We had three more nights on board and I suspected that dealing with Thom and Denny would be harder than anything that happened between Reg and my wife. It was not because they’d say anything, but just because they knew.
Jennifer asked for some eggs and toast as well as a Mimosa, and I d
ecided to join her in switching poisons.
“Do you think he knows?” she asked.
“Of course.”
I laughed at her scandalized expression.
“Hell, he and Denny were probably in some crawl space watching the whole thing.”
She slapped at my forearm. “Stop it.”
I held out my hands. “What? How could they keep themselves from watching such a hot little, white slut,” I replied echoing her own passionate exclamations from last night.
She shook her head. “Oh God.”
“What?” I asked, now actually confused.
“Reg isn’t enough for you?”
She smirked in response to my quizzical expression.
“God, you really are a pervert,” she concluded.
Thom’s return cut short our conversation, but I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d read into my comments.
***
Cat Island has about 1500 inhabitants. The main town, such as it is, is Arthur’s Town. Denny ferried us in and we headed over to the Shanna’s Cove for lunch at the resort there, a perfectly seared red snapper over a bed of risotto.
We walked along the nearly deserted beaches admiring and occasionally soaking in the perfectly clear, blue-green water.
“Man it really is paradise out here,” I offered.
Jennifer nodded in agreement. “Beautiful, amazing food…”
Tons of black cock, I thought to myself.
She saw my smirk. “What?”
“Nothing,” I replied. But I could tell from her saucy smile she’d guessed direction of my thoughts.
“You wouldn’t really want to live here?” she asked.
Maybe I was over-thinking things, but it seemed to me that she was asking more than the obvious. I mean, of course, we were not going to move to Cat Island.
“No, but it is a fun place to visit. Fun while you’re there. Good memories after. And I want these to be good memories for you. I feel like I owe you. All those long nights, the hours away from you and the kids, the way our lifestyle often seemed sustained by smoke and mirrors.”
“I always knew it would work out,” she reassured me.
“No you didn’t.”
She laughed. “Okay, no I didn’t. But I do want things to work out. I don’t want you to do things because you owe me. We’re in this together.”
