by Gabi Moore
And with this flimsy premise of looking at views and drinking whiskey, we all got up and headed over to our room. Tanya, thank heavens, filled all the intervening moments with more small talk (I am constantly reminded of why I married this gorgeous woman) and we found ourselves in the room, on this last night of our trip, when suddenly something was going to happen and I didn’t quite know what to think about it yet.
As she flung off her shoes, Tanya threw me an intense, pleading look, one that even I could tell was imbued with a million hidden messages.
She wanted me to do something.
I kicked off my shoes and it dawned on me: I would have to be the one to instigate whatever happened here. Were we actually just meeting up for an innocent drink with a stranger in our hotel room? No, of course not, we were already well committed, surely. Right? Nobody could say that any of this was innocent. The guy was handsome, too, and you certainly don’t go around looking that handsome without fully intending to… to what?
I tried to decode the look she was giving me. She had been so grim about everything almost from the first day of this trip, and here she was, all naughty looks and stolen glances. I had played around with the idea, once or twice, of her with another man, but it never really held my interest. Did she want to fuck him? Was I OK with that? I would have done anything to please her, but something sore and unhappy stirred in me at the thought of sharing her. She was mine, wasn’t she? And I hers?
She plunked down on the bed and I went to make us a trio of drinks; whiskey in tiny etched hotel glasses, one for each of us. Three. An unstable number, that.
He had seated himself on the edge of a chair next to the bed, leaving the bed as the only remaining place for me to sit. A few sips of whiskey, and the whole thing seemed fun, amusing even.
They continued to chat, and I watched by idly, interjecting here and there or nodding.
She had on one of her usual sundresses, this one a little more chaste than our famous roadside number; it had a few fussy bits around the neckline and a slightly longer hem, a hem I had noticed shifting higher and higher up her thighs.
My mind was all over the place, and their words kind of washed over me – I was listening to the change in pitch of their voices, to the way they seemed to be moving closer to each other.
She playfully smacked my knee and then leaned in for a playful snuggle, which unexpectedly turned into a kiss. A lingering kiss. We kissed right up to the point of decency and then went past it. She seemed to wait there, half opened lips touching mine, deciding what she would do. She leaned in further and give me one long, slow, almost obscenely intimate kiss, one that sent her little tongue deep into my mouth, her lips hard against mine. She drew back, playful, a drunk little look in her eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind a little public affection,” she said to him, never breaking eye contact with me.
He laughed, taking a swig of his drink. “No problem. We’re not really in public anymore, so…” his voice trailed off, and their eyes met.
This was kind of hot. She looked beautiful. I loved this, showing her off like this.
He put his glass down on the side table and leaned in a little, placing a tender hand on her bare thigh. We all three looked down at this hand. That sore, unhappy place in me twinged a little, and I interrupted, pulling her head towards mine.
“Kiss me again,” I ordered her, and we were both surprised by how much force was in those few words.
She obeyed, and, with his hand still on her leg, she leaned in for another deep, slow kiss. This time, I grabbed her firmly, with a grasp that seemed to say not him, me. I angled her head to the side and kissed her roughly; her body went limp in my hands. Out the corner of my eyes I saw his hand, still there, stroking her skin faintly. My cock twitched in my pants. I kissed her harder. She tore her lips away from mine and looked over to him, to see whether he was OK with any of this or, she probably hoped, actually thrilled with it.
He had the same glassy, drunk look to his eyes as she did, and he only stared straight ahead at us, at her lips, his hand still stroking her thighs. She looked into his eyes, then down at the rest of his body, then back into his eyes.
Some secret bit of communication happened in a flash between them, something quick and dirty, and all at once she snapped her attention back to me, smiling and parting her lips a little to invite yet another luscious kiss.
His hand was still glued to her; impatiently, I grabbed her around her waist and threw her more fully on the bed, away from his hand, her hair fanning out all around the pillows. This gesture seemed to shock both of them. He moved back in his seat, and picked up his glass again, somehow sensing that I wasn’t ready to share her. Not yet, anyway.
Good.
This woman belonged to me. If anyone was going to fuck her, I was the one.
She writhed around on the bed a little, alternating delicious looks with me, then him, then me again. She was doing that hot little thing she did with her hips when she was horny. Oh, she was far drunker than I had originally thought.
“Don’t mind me,” he said, chuckling. He was slouching in his seat now, legs spread wide, with one casual hand balancing his drink on his knee, and the other held under his chin, as if he was carefully considering some new argument he had never heard before.
I placed my own crude hand on her thighs, as if to reclaim her, spreading my full fingers out over her skin and squeezing hard. With an almost deliberate vulgarity, I shoved my hand further up under the dress, then threw open the fabric, revealing a pair of pale pink panties. She squealed and giggled, making the most ineffectual attempt to pull it down again.
“Take this thing off,” I said to her, not quite knowing that I meant to say that until the words had already left my lips and were hanging there, between her and me and our new friend.
Her face was pink. She had that same dangerous, loosely reckless look on her face, one that I was gradually growing accustomed to. She wanted to break the rules? Little slut. Fine, I would call her bluff. She wanted to get fucked here, right now, in front of this stranger? Fine, I would show her.
She wriggled out of her dress and I grabbed it and flung it aside. Her bra went, too, and eventually the little panties as well, till she was completely naked in the bed, me towering over her and him watching on, fully clothed and taking slow, disinterested sips of whiskey now and then.
This was fantastic.
‘Show him your pussy,” I said, and grabbed each of her legs, forcing them apart. She made a show of resisting me, but I spread her legs open, and she turned her head to the side, bashful, hiding her face in her loose hair. Slowly, she lowered two hands down over her torso and then down to her inner thighs, slowly, slowly pulling her thighs up, giving our guest the most unimaginably filthy view.
He sat, unmoving, eyebrows knitted and mouth pulled tight. My cock twitched again. I wanted her. By the looks of him, he wanted her too.
I reached over to her again, but she sprung up, standing on the bed now above both of us, playfully pulling her tongue out at me. She stood tall above us both now, completely naked, her two little nipples tight and that particular shade of dark pink they turned whenever she was really turned on.
Man, she was wasted. Looking down at us both, a slow, naughty smile slid over face and she giggled, then raised both her slender arms up and tossed back her head. Arching her back and snaking her arms up overhead, she began to dance a little, rhythmic and slinky-like, something part prima ballerina, part strip tease.
We watched her, neither of us breathing or breaking our focus on her lean body. She dropped her hands down and slid them over her body, stroking herself from top to bottom, then back up again, but not before teasing a little between her legs. Astonishingly, she dragged a single middle finger up over her bare belly, leaving a slick wet trail. I could not believe how wet she was. The arms went up overhead again and she writhed side to side, throwing her hips this way and that way, the tight muscles of her belly moving underneath her velv
ety skin.
She opened her eyes and immediately grinned at him; I followed her gaze and found him on his chair, unzipped, dick in hand. The whiskey still propped on his knee. He had one of those weird tapered cocks, one that bulged fat in the middle but narrowed down at the end. He was stroking it absentmindedly. She seemed absolutely thrilled by this. She turned her radiant face towards mine.
“Where’s yours?” she said.
Dear lord, I never took my clothes off so fast as I did then. Before I knew what we were doing, she had impaled herself onto my rock hard dick, sitting in my lap like a little goddess, riding me up and down like a complete animal. I sat cross-legged, cradling her excited form in my arms, her small breasts pressing hard against my chest. I had my back to him, leaving her to face him full on, looking him square in the face as I hammered away at her hungry little cunt.
Her entire body was different somehow, exquisitely switched on; I had to admit, I had gone along with it for her, but I was becoming curious about him. No sooner had I thought this, did I hear him rouse behind me, and next he had his face to hers, kissing her greedily as we fucked.
It was so hot to see her this way, with a stranger’s tongue in her mouth, that I instantly felt my entire body pulse, hard, and I couldn’t stop myself from coming all at once inside her. I cried out as I pumped each spurt into her, and this temporarily pulled her surprised lips from his.
She looked down at my spent body, the cum now oozing out of her little hole and onto her thighs and mine. Then a second flutter of surprise washed over her face as she looked at him again, behind me and out of my sight. In an instant, I heard him groan and release a gush of hot cum all over her face, right over my shoulder. She was so surprised she laughed out loud and seemed genuinely happy to now be coated in not one but two loads of cum.
She threw herself back onto the bed, still laughing and still very, very drunk, completely doused in white. He was giggling too, and nervously reached for his glass, throwing back the last of his whiskey.
“Hey man, you look like you need another one,” he said, then put his trousers back on and headed to the mini bar again.
I looked at her, her face dribbling with strings of cum that she was now hurriedly trying to wipe off with her crumpled up dress.
With a deep, primal satisfaction, I gazed at her fucked pussy, and saw my own cum dribbling out of her, too, so much of it that there was no more room left inside her. I had thrust hard into her, putting it in as deep as possible, and I had come so much it was now flowing freely out of her again, right here in this room, on our holiday, with this, this guy watching.
He stayed the night.
My wife performed for him, little slut that she was, and I took full advantage of her altered state to send two more loads of cum into her before the evening was over. He slept in the bed, I think, but the whiskey was flowing, too, and blurred away the edges of all the events that came later…
In the morning, we overslept and missed out flight. Tanya laughed her head off at this.
Chapter Ten
Life went on, you know, as it does.
We caught another flight, came home, tried to make sense of what had happened, both completely ignoring all the tourist snaps we’d taken and throwing the picture postcards in the trash. For all we cared, we could have been in Timbuktu.
I’m a problem solver, by nature, and with satisfaction I was beginning to piece together that precise set of circumstances that would result in my wife turning into that raging little sex monster we now both knew she could be. I Googled it (and so what if I did?) and tried to get into her head in every way I could. She didn’t understand it, herself. She couldn’t tell me what left her cold and what seemed to flip that switch in her that turned her into the kind of woman that would gleefully take a load on the face from a stranger.
But I had seen it, and I wanted more of it, so I devoted myself to recreating the magic again somehow.
The first thing, though, was that she couldn’t know. It had to be spontaneous. Or, should I say, it had to appear spontaneous. Any hint that anything was planned would frightened off her newly fledged little kink and we’d be doing obligatory ovulation knobbing again and I couldn’t bear the thought.
No, she had to be surprised, on the spur of the moment, by complete or almost complete strangers, who would then be righteously turned on by how much of an unbridled tart she was being. I won’t say what effect this was having on me …but let’s say I managed to find hours each day to devote to furtive research on the topic.
About a week after we returned back from our holiday, both of us still riding this strange new wave that had appeared in the pool of our everyday lives …I had a plan. It grew slowly, almost imperceptibly, but after a few days it was there, fully formed, my own delicious secret.
Chapter Eleven
“Turn around, go on, let me see the back of it,” I said.
She curled up her eyebrows at me, then looked at herself in the mirror for the hundredth time, then twirled around in front of me, the stretchy fabric hugging her little behind.
“Nah, I think yellow one is better, wear that one instead,” I said, staring at her behind.
She looked at me hard, trying to figure out my new interest in her clothing choices, something I typically didn’t give two shits about.
“Really? The yellow one? Don’t you think it’s a little too …slutty?”
I smiled internally.
“No, it’s great. It shows of your lovely bum, wear it.”
She went back to the cupboard and stripped off, wriggled the yellow one on.
It was a great dress on her. It had blurry, abstract leaves all up the front of it, in just the right color to make her delicate hazel eyes seem like they were cut from amber.
“That’s better! Little minx,” I said.
“Will you tell me where we’re going already?” she said, beginning to twirl her hair up in the mirror.
‘No. I won’t. And leave your hair down.”
“Bossy this evening, aren’t we?” she replied, letting her hair fall down again, still not sure what to make of this whole thing.
“Shush and just get ready. We should leave in the next ten minutes, and you’ll find out soon enough.”
A dubious look came over her face, but there was something else underneath it, something like the start of her enjoying something, shall we say, a little spontaneous. We caught a taxi and her protests and begging for more information took a playful turn. She tugged at my arm and whined and twiddled with her earrings.
“Shh… it’s a bloody well surprise, isn’t it?” I said.
She beamed at me and we drove on.
A few years ago, doing something like this would have been …inconceivable. But within the last few months, I had been so regularly surprised by just how naughty this woman truly was. She was so different these days, a little wild, a little unpredictable. She was less of a list maker now, less concerned with being on time. And in bed, she had become sex mad, a sexual daredevil, performing her heart out at the mere thought of someone watching her.
We arrived at a non-descript looking brick building in a non-descript location. There were cars in the parking lot, the outline of two bouncer-looking types at an arched entrance that gave no indication that there was anything going on beyond it. No music, no queue outside. I could see a mild look of disappointment grow over her face, but she tried to conceal it, saying, “Ooh …where are we now, this looks interesting!”
We went inside; even though they were dark glasses, I could somehow feel the bouncer types’ eyes scan over her scantily clad body as she walked through three or four folds of heavy velvet and into a foyer. It was only once we were inside that the possibility that I had fucked up dawned on me. There seemed to be an air of anti climax all of a sudden, as though she had been actively expecting some sort of big reveal. For all appearances, we seemed to be in an ordinary (and almost empty!) nightclub. I told myself not to sweat it, that her disappointment w
ould make it all the sweeter when it finally dawned on her where we really were. I decided to hold my tongue and let things evolve as they would.
“Want a drink?” I said casually, and we walked over to a purple back-lit bar. I glanced over at her staring around listlessly, playing with a loose mint leaf she had found on the counter. Oh god, what if this completely blows up in my big stupid face? What if this is like, the first step of my divorce? Here she had begged me for a baby like a nice respectable girl and I had bought her to a sex club?
I desperately tried to think of something to say, but before I could, she began chatting absentmindedly with the bartender.
“Bit quiet for a Saturday night, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you just wait, it’s a costume evening tonight. Give it an hour and you won’t say it’s quiet…”
“Costumes?” she said, her face lighting up a little.
“Oh yeah, everyone goes all out. First time here is it?”
She nodded.
“First time? Ah, you’re gonna love it,” he said, giving her a lascivious wink and pushing two beers towards me.
I quickly steered her away before he said any more.
“Well, that guy was a bit creepy, wasn’t he?” she said, and we settled down at some tables in a small enclave some way off from the main dance floor. The room seemed big on purple – softly glowing purple orbs hung above us, and there were faint flecks of purple and pink glitter in the concrete dance floor. Each enclave was partly sectioned off with some heavy drapes that could be shut to create little private purple bubbles… I watched her closely, to see if she noticed this, or the little cushions that had been scattered in some of the corners.
“That’s cute! You can sit on the floor over there!” she said, and I relished how clueless she was. There was another room in this club. A room for her. But I would wait before I showed her that.
People started to drift into the club pretty quickly after that. The music was beat-heavy, loud yet unobtrusive. We hadn’t been there an hour when a big group of people stumbled in, a group of mostly women in outrageous outfits – they formed a mass of mostly bare limbs, straps and strips of lace and PVC as far as the eye could see, and a woman with a pair of tits so unruly they seemed constantly in danger of shaking off the flimsy pair of tassels she had stuck on them. Tanya stared with wide eyes, then raised her eyebrows at me.
