Dark Tide

by Ben Boswell

  We walked along in silence for a bit. “These are going to be good memories, right?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

  “How do you know?”

  I looked over at her, so sexy in her mesh bikini and a sheer wrap. “I know, because I was just thinking that the only thing that could make this place any better is a few more people around to see how sexy you are.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “People, eh? What, like a bunch of pasty British tourists? Or maybe,” she continued slowly, “you were thinking more in terms of group of young Bahamian men… listening to some Reggae music… smoking weed.”

  It certainly painted a picture. Three or four young guys, like Denny, ripped like him, but not as clean cut, wearing weathered t-shirts, with matted dreadlocks, and hard stares for the rich tourists trespassing on their Island.

  I glanced instinctively toward the tree line, a strand of palms lining the beach shielding a rougher thicket of shrubs behind.

  She followed my gaze. “They might call us over. What choice would we have?” She took a slow step in the direction of our imaginary assailants. “I mean, we wouldn’t want them to think we were scared. And we couldn’t outrun them anyway….”

  “And,” I added scanning the deserted beach, “there is no one else around to help us.”

  “We’d just have to do whatever they said, no matter how… unpleasant.” Her grin, however, hinted at all sorts of pleasantness instead.

  We ducked behind a palm into a small hollow in the vegetation.

  “What do you think they want from us?” I asked.

  She looked around as if making eye contact with the group of men surrounding us. “Probably this,” she said as she began untying her wrap.

  “They’d want me to do that,” I suggested, placing my hand on hers. “Close your eyes,” whispered in her ear.

  She obeyed. I stepped back and spoke aloud. “We’ll do whatever you ask,” I intoned to a swaying palm frond. Then stepping in closer again I reassured her. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you.”

  She nodded. She jolted as she felt me reach for the knot on her wrap.

  “It’s okay. They don’t want to harm you. They just want to… fuck you.” She shuddered slightly. “There are three of them. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a throaty growl.

  I untied her wrap and let it fall to the sand. “They want to see you naked first.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  I untied her bikini top. Her hands rose up instinctively to cover her breasts. I seized her wrists and pressed them to her side.

  “You don’t want to make them angry,” I explained.

  I cupped a breast, mauling it roughly as I imagine a lusty assailant might. Her nipples stiffened despite the warm, moist air. I pinched one of her erect nubs until she hissed out a whine.

  “Don’t hurt her,” I scolded her imaginary molester.

  I released her nipple, grudgingly, giving her breast a final firm squeeze. I dropped down to my knees.

  “They want this off too.”

  “Okay,” she replied.

  I pulled down her skimpy bottoms, remaining face-to-face with her blond muff. She was obviously already excited. I ran a thumb along her slit and it split open easily, exposing the pink wetness within. I licked her gently. She moaned.

  “They want me to get you ready,” I explained.

  She grinned, then took a deep breath and got back into character. “Okay. What are they doing?”

  I tongued her pussy again. “Stroking their big, hard cocks. Arguing over which one gets to fuck you first.”

  I sucked her labia into my mouth. She shuddered and grabbed my head for support. I grabbed firmly at her ass cheeks and pulled her against me. She gracefully lifted a leg and wrapped it over my shoulder, grinding against me as she got wetter and wetter. She was close, so close, and when I pulled away, she let out a frustrated groan.

  “They can’t wait any longer,” I explained.

  “I bet.”

  I pressed her back against the palm tree and hooked my forearm under her thigh to open her up again. I rammed my rock hard cock inside her.

  The fantasy would have required me to come three times to sustain the illusion, and I knew I wasn’t up for that. Instead, I varied it up as best as I could. The first “man” was rough, hammering her standing up, mauling her tits, pulling her hair. The second was more gentle. He spun her around and took her from behind, but his hands explored her body tenderly, fingertips tracing her ribs, his palm on her belly with his thumb searching out and softly encircling her clit.

  “Oh God, he’s making me come,” she cried out just as her pussy began clenching on my rod.

  I almost lost it, but I managed to hold on. There was still a third man. He pushed her down onto her hands and knees on the sand. He entered her hard from behind, squeezing her ass firmly enough to leave handprints. He screwed her fast, mesmerized at her pulsing starfish. He dripped a strand of saliva between her butt cheeks and rubbed his slippery thumb against her anus. She stiffened a bit in anticipation as the thick pad of the thumb pressed past the tight ring of muscle inside her.

  “Oh God,” she cried out yet again.

  I wondered how much she was responding to the sensation and how much was the fact that it served to remind her of her evening with Reg. Either way, it sparked again her excitement. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her squeals rising in pitch, high, high, until with a final groan her body shuddered in a second orgasm. I joined her this time, coming what felt like a gallon.

  I hadn’t realized I’d closed my own eyes until I opened them again and blinked from the bright sunlight. We were both naked, and just a couple of yards off the beach. I could hear voices from relatively nearby. Somehow in the thrall of the fantasy, it had felt more private and isolated.

  Sheepishly we both dressed.

  “Lucky no one saw us,” I said.

  “Yeah, though….” She trailed off.

  I laughed. She was right, there were a lot of other potential fantasies to explore.

  Chapter Eight

  We had an uneventful return to the boat. We’d had a late lunch, so we asked Thom for a light dinner. He obliged with a delightful seafood salad.

  Reg made himself scarce, which was unfortunate in a way. It was thrilling to have him around both for Jennifer and for me. And yet, it was also welcome. Somehow we’d happened on the perfect partner for our game, hot, hung, skilled, and discrete. I had the weird impression that we weren’t the first couple he’d played with in this way. Though I suspected he’d be tight-lipped about it.

  From the way Jennifer kept craning her neck at sound coming from the bridge, I was pretty sure she wasn’t through with him yet.

  “Are you looking for someone?” I asked.

  “No….” She paused and then laughed. “Would you be upset if I was?”

  “You mean, would I be angry if I found out my wife couldn’t stop thinking about being fucked by another man?” I replied with a scowl.

  She rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t find a way to work big, black cock into that question?”

  I laughed. “It seemed like overkill.”

  “So, back to the original question….”

  I shrugged. “Not up to me. It ends when you want it to end.”

  She regarded me skeptically.

  “Yeah, it’s weird for me too,” I continued, “Like I said, this isn’t one of those things I’ve ever really fantasized about. But last night was… fucking hot. And I have to admit, it makes me nuts… in a good way… to think you have more on your mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know it began as my fantasy, but now I’m just as intrigued to figure out what is going on with you. I feel like you’ve been waiting for me to give you permission to—”

  “It’s not like that,” she interrupted.

  “Sure it is. At least in part. And that’s okay. At least I thin
k it is. At least the part of you having thoughts… fantasies, I didn’t know about is okay, as is you feeling comfortable enough to let them out. I just wish you hadn’t waited so long—”

  “I didn’t. That’s what I mean. You need to understand. It’s not like I’ve been suppressing the real me all these years—”

  I nodded. “Me either. I swear I haven’t been obsessing for years about your having sex with another man.”

  Another skeptical glance.

  “What?”

  “Seems like a pretty major thing to just appear out of nowhere.”

  “Oh, it isn’t out of nowhere. I mean, look, yeah, I….”

  It was funny, as I spoke, my thoughts seemed to crystallize.

  “…. You’re out of my league. And I –“

  “No, don’t say that—”

  “Oh, come on, you’re, fucking, insanely hot. I appreciate your modesty—”

  “I’m not—”

  I just rolled my eyes. “You are. You know it. It’s what first attracted me to you, though, God knows, I am so fucking lucky that isn’t all there is. So yeah, I guess, I’ve always felt a little, I dunno, bad that I locked you up and—”

  “And what, prevented me for having a lot of meaningless sex with hot bodied, vapid twits?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Oh, and that’s what you would have done?”

  “Yes!” I answered immediately, then reconsidered. “Well, I don’t really know, do I? But in my teens and twenties, I did often dream about what I would do if I were one of the hot guys. And yes, it involved a lot of empty, tawdry sex with hot girls.”

  “Being, you know, conventionally attractive isn’t all its cracked up to be.”

  I bit back my instinctive snarky response.

  “I’m sure it’s not. There are no free lunches in life. But my point is just, I dunno, I’ve never really fantasized about you with other men, but I’ve always known you had other options. It’s not the only reason, but maybe it is one of the reasons I don’t take you for granted. I know I could lose you.”

  “And what does that have to do with...” she waved her arm in the air, “… with this?”

  “Maybe I’m just now comfortable enough with where we are that the idea doesn’t just scare me, it turns me on?”

  “But it still scares you?”

  I laughed. “Of course! There isn’t a man on this planet who wouldn’t feel threatened by Reg and his… fucking tree-truck cock.”

  She laughed. “He is, um, impressively endowed.”

  “So maybe I’m still scared, but now confident enough to be turned on by admitting my fears.”

  “I guess that is progress,” she noted sardonically.

  “And you?” I asked.

  She regarded me thoughtfully. It seemed as if she were on the brink of some profound admission. And then she smirked. “Maybe I’m just in it for the sex?”

  I chuckled, a little disappointed, but unwilling to show it. “Sex is good.”

  We ate some more seafood salad. Drank a little more wine.

  “You sure?” she asked suddenly.

  I nodded. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  “It might get a little bumpy.”

  I laughed. “Then I guess all I can do is hang on.”

  ***

  I wasn’t sure what to expect. Reg’s absence obviated any overt fireworks. Aside from a few flirty references to our afternoon on the beach, dinner went quietly. After coffee and after-dinner liquors, Jennifer and I retired to our stateroom for what I assumed would be a, perhaps welcome, evening of traditional, marital, conjugal relations.

  “Honey, can you come give me a hand?” she called from the bathroom.

  I walked into the head, then paused and gasped to see my wife, naked, perched up on the sink. A pair of scissors in one hand, my razor in the other, she beckoned me closer.

  “I want to give Captain Wallace a treat, will you help me?” she asked in a sort of needy, girlish tone.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  Her lewd smile betrayed her pleasure at my question.

  “Shave me, honey.”

  I stumbled forward, suddenly feeling woozier than any amount of booze might cause.

  Jennifer nodded at the stool, and I sat down, now face to face with her snatch. She’d never gone completely bare, and truth is, I’d always considered it almost a crime to even think of shaving off a perfect, blond muff. She handed me the scissors.

  “Go ahead, husband, get me ready for Reg’s big, black cock.”

  I was rock hard, my entire body twitching. I wanted nothing more than to stand, drop my pants, and bury myself into her dripping cunt. And here’s the thing, Jennifer wouldn’t have minded. Hell, she’d have probably gotten a kick out of getting me so revved up. But fuck if she wasn’t right. More than wanting to get balls deep inside her, I wanted to see what would happen… what would happen when her shaved, hot, cunt met up with his big, black cock.

  I seized the scissors, took a deep breath, and began to carefully trim down her blond pubes. She let me work in peace. Though I could feel her eyes boring down on me, I couldn’t bring myself to look up and meet her gaze.

  I cut her hair close, and then unbidden, rose and found my can of shaving cream. I gently rubbed it in and then grabbing my idiotic, over-priced, five-blade razor, I began to shave her clean. But over-priced or not, it did an amazing job, leaving her soft, silky, and smooth.

  She ran her hand over her moist, shaved skin. “It feels like a baby’s bottom.”

  But somehow looked nothing like it. Inches away from her perfectly shaved snatch, I was having trouble resisting the urge…

  “Go ahead, honey,” she cooed. She paused, letting me hang between alternate potential meanings. “Just like on the beach. Get me ready for another man.”

  The jibe barely registered. I inhaled deeply and then flung myself at her. I tasted, ate, swallowed every inch of her. At first, I reveled in the smoothness of her, then delighted in the soapy, minty fragrance on her skin, and finally lost myself in her growing musky excitement. She began moving against me, her slender fingers in my hair, but she never lost herself, never forgot the real goal.

  She pushed me away. “Thank you, but I need to go.”

  I was loopy with excitement, but allowed myself to be dismissed. It was, maybe, the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. All I really wanted to do was throw her to the ground and take her, enjoy that smooth, naked, snatch for myself. Except, maybe, it wasn’t that hard to resist. Because, ultimately, the idea of her smooth, pale, white snatch being speared, stretched, cleaved, by a thick, black, cock was intoxicating in itself.

  She grabbed a fluffy, white bathrobe and wrapped herself up. She walked out of the bathroom.

  I followed after her, but at a discreet distance. I wanted to watch, but didn’t want to intrude, and anyway, I didn’t trust myself to be too close. I let her cross each threshold before I trailed after her, always a room behind, always hidden in the shadows.

  And through those stops and starts, finding my footing on the swaying deck, I emerged from the salon to watch her step on the bridge.

  Reg was sitting in his captain’s chair quietly regarding the surrounding ocean. He startled when he heard my wife’s quiet footsteps. Seeing her, swathed in the thick bathrobe, his eyes immediately went toward the stairs to the salon. I pressed myself back into the darkness and he seemed satisfied they were alone.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Howard,” he said smoothly.

  She took a step forward, the bathrobe slipping open just a touch, showing off a glint of pale skin in the moonlight.

  “Don’t you like me anymore?”

  He stiffened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She took another step, now flashing some thigh, a hint of cleavage.

  He realized her game now. “Well, you found me now,” he said, leaning forward.

 
“And just in time,” she cooed.

  She let the robe slip from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet and she stepped forward, just inches away from him, her body dappled in the greens and reds from the status lights on the console. He took her in, her long, lean, lines, the swell of her breasts, but inevitably his gaze was drawn to her shaved sex.

  “Do you like?” she asked unnecessarily. His open-mouthed admiration was answer enough. “I did it just for you.”

  That hurt. Just a little. I knew she was just in the moment, but still it gave me a twinge of doubt.

  He reached out to touch her, but she intercepted his hands with her own. “Not yet,” she explained.

  She dropped to her knees and reached into his lap. He edged off his seat to assist as she wrenched off his shorts and boxers. His huge, thick rod jutted up from his lap.

  Even more that the previous night, she worshipped his fat prick. She kissed every inch, licked every millimeter of him. She suckled on his flared head, massaged his plum-sized balls. Her tongue swirling around his head, her hands stroked him up and down, squishing wetly through a mixture of pre-come and saliva. Periodically she flung aside long strands of blond hair to ensure he had a perfect view of her lovely face as she expertly serviced him.

  But she hadn’t forgotten about me. Her body was too perfectly positioned for that. After giving me a great view as she’d began working on his cock, she shifted. Rising up on her knees and leaning into his lap, she jutted her ass back in my direction. Her hips moving in sexy, languid circles, I could see her pretty, pink pussy, swollen and damp with excitement. And as if to extinguish any doubt that she was putting on a show for me, she reached down between her legs and slowly pumped a slender, manicured finger in and out of her wet snatch.

  I don’t know how long she’d have gone on slavering over his cock if it had been solely up to her, but he suddenly rose up. She rocked back on her heels startled, but before she could speak he reached down and lifted her to her feet. He spun her around and cupped her ass, a long, thick finger pressing between her legs. He smiled as he felt her wetness, and then without a word, he stepped forward and sank his thick cock into her hungry pussy.

  She twisted her neck and looked back at him.