by Vivian Ward
I don’t know what it is or why it happens, but I like him to fuck me just a little after he’s come, pushing it deeper inside me. Sometimes, it’s the only way I can get off.
“Yes,” I hiss in his ear. “Keep going, baby. Don’t stop until I come.”
Each time he drives himself inside of me, I can feel the warmth of his semen spreading and leaking out of me. Knowing how close it is to my cervix gets me closer to climaxing until there’s so much of it that I get lost in that sweet oblivion.
“Oh, oh, oh,” my eyes roll in my head as I drown in a sea of waves that never stop rolling.
My orgasm is so intense that I don’t even realize I’m screaming until I finally come down from my high and Tom’s donning the biggest grin I’ve seen on his face in a long time.
Around this same time is when I hear a round of applause coming from outside of our tent.
I could die a thousand deaths of embarrassment and shame, and I know if I did, I’d die the happiest woman on earth.
“Should we go have a smoke, Mrs. Crescent?” Tom beams at me.
“Ugh,” I sigh and lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t know. What if they’re right outside of the tent? They sounded like they were awfully close.”
“Eh, fuck ‘em,” he slips his pants on. “Then they got to listen to a performance of a lifetime.”
Shocked by his words, I pull my shirt on over my head and start getting dressed with him.
“I wasn’t ‘performing’,” I say with finger quotes. “You, Mr. Crescent, know how to fuck like no other.”
A throaty laughter that escapes his chest puts a smile on my face.
“I didn’t say that you were performing,” he begins unzipping the tent. “I was on top and did all of the work, so I believe I was performing.”
And with that, he climbs out of the tent and I hear him say, “Oh, hello.”
I was right, they are literally right outside of our tent, and I can see their legs in the dim moonlight once Tom has made his way completely out of the tent.
“Nice going!” I hear one of them say as they high-five each other.
“Man, you guys are fucking animals,” the other one says.
Chapter 4
Beth
Shaking my head, I can’t believe that I have to go face them, but I really need a cigarette. That fuck was too good not to enjoy one right now.
Climbing out of the tent, I look around to see who might be there. I don’t know why I’m suddenly shy, but if I’m being completely honest with myself, the guys next to our campsite are pretty fucking hot.
I tried not to pay much attention to them while Tom and I were setting up our campsite, but they both look like bronzed gods. They might be brothers, but I doubt it because of how well the two of them seem to get along, but they appear to be pretty close. Maybe they’re just best friends or something like that.
“Beth,” Tom says, grabbing my hand to help me out of our tent. “This is Hunter,” he nods toward the man who is the leanest of the two friends.
“Hi, Hunter. Nice to meet you,” I shake his hand.
“I’m Shawn,” the stockier guy steps forward, taking my hand into his without giving his friend a chance to respond.
“Shawn? Nice to meet you, too,” I smile.
Something about the way his hand feels in mine makes me tingle inside, and I know it shouldn’t. I quickly withdraw my hand from his grip and put my arm around my husband.
“Here you go,” Tom removes a cigarette from his pack and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I put it between my parted lips and wait for him to light it.
Before my husband can do the honors, Shawn flicks his lighter in front of my cigarette.
“Allow me,” he grins at me.
Lighting my cigarette, I thank him and tuck myself in closer to my husband. I don’t know why but I feel vulnerable to this man and the effect that he has on me.
His eyes are a dangerous caramel color, the kind that you see in those candy commercials when they show their rich, creamy batter being stirred in a large pot, teasing your senses.
Tom takes a drag off his cigarette as he pulls me close to him and squeezes me while planting a kiss in my hair.
“You two are pretty entertaining,” Hunter says.
I’ve never seen eyes quite as blue as his. They’re as bright as the ocean yet a darker hue, a deep cyan, surrounds his pupils. The contrast between the two colors is stunning and I wish my eyes were as beautiful as his.
My husband laughs at his statement.
“Yeah, she can get pretty wild. Can’t you, babe?”
Sometimes I hate it when my husband puts me on the spot, but he means no harm by it. He’s just proud of how great our sex life is and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve been known to brag when given the opportunity.
I can feel myself blushing while the back of my husband’s hand caresses my face. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he could feel the heat flushing from my cheeks with the way he stops and holds his cold hand over it.
“Mmm, yes,” I murmur, taking a drag of my cigarette.
Grabbing my long chestnut-colored hair, I pull it back and wrap it in a ponytail in an attempt to calm myself.
“You know,” Shawn’s eyes hold my gaze. “If you like to get pretty wild, we could all hang out tomorrow night. We’ve got plenty of booze, and I think we could have a very good time.”
The way he stares at me for a few seconds too long makes me think that there’s more to it than just having a few drinks around the campfire, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice it.
Or if he does, he’s not letting on one bit.
“Sounds good to me,” he agrees with Shawn. “But I must warn you, she can hold her liquor, so I hope you’ve got enough for my little fish to drink.”
I watch in disbelief as he blows smoke rings in the air.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to get these guys to get me drunk. He also knows how turned on I get when I’m drinking and when you couple that with us out in the wilderness, that’s the perfect recipe for one horny Beth. And he’s acting cool as a cucumber the whole time.
“Tom!” I playfully smack him. “You make me sound like I’m a drunk.”
I turn my attention to our new friends and smile at the two of them, trying to keep concentrate on Hunter because he’s the least distracting of the two.
“I’m sorry. I think what my husband means is that I can hold my own for a lady. I’m not a terribly big drinker,” I nod at Hunter.
Shawn steps in front of his friend, folding his arms.
“We’ll see about that,” he winks.
Surely, Tom had to see that. Right? I turn around and look up at my husband who is blowing his smoke up at the moon.
My mouth hangs open as I realize he missed the whole thing. Trying not to make a big deal of out of it, I laugh it off.
Finishing the last drag of my cigarette, I grind the cherry out against a tree and toss the butt into our garbage bag, waiting for my husband to join me, but he’s busy making friends.
“What are you two doing tomorrow?” I hear Hunter ask my husband.
“Eh, you know. Probably a little fishing in the morning and then maybe go on a float trip early afternoon.”
“Yeah? Shawn and I were going to go fishing in the morning. Depending on what time you’re getting up, we can all go together,” Hunter suggests.
My husband seems more than pleased to have a couple of guys to fish with, especially since his friends backed out on him and eagerly jumps at the opportunity.
“Yeah, that sounds great! I was going to head out to the bank around 5 and then come back here for an early lunch around 9 or so before we take our rafts out on the water.”
“Awesome, that works man,” Shawn says.
The men all high-five each other as we wish one another good night before we make our way back into our respective tents.
“Tom! Did you see that?” I ask my husband, wide-eyed and mo
uth hanging open.
“See what?” he asks, adjusting his pillows as he tries to get comfortable.
“Those guys! That guy! He was flirting with me.” I look at my husband who is waiting for me to elaborate more on what I’m talking about.
“You didn’t see it, did you?” I ask.
My voice sounds small. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe it’s all in my head and Shawn really wasn’t flirting with me.
But all of those glances, those looks, the way his eyes locked with mine. Those beautiful caramel eyes.
I shake my head. There’s no way that I imagined all of it. Tom mustn’t have been paying very close attention, but sometimes he’s oblivious to the fact that men come onto me.
At least, he never seems to pay any attention. Maybe he doesn’t care?
He doesn’t have to say a word because his silence speaks volumes.
“The guy named Shawn was coming onto me really strong. Not only did he invite us to come drink with them tomorrow, but he also winked at me while he kept flirting!”
“Do you want me to go punch him?” he teases, stretching out in his spot.
“No!” I say.
“Did you like it?” he asks.
Would it be bad if the answer was: yes, a little?
“No,” I say, even though it’s sort of a lie.
“Then that’s all that matters. Good night, babe. Love you.”
It doesn’t take long for him to doze off and start snoring while I lie next to him thinking about the hot guys right next to us who are using our normal camping spot.
I’ve got to admit, they are pretty hot and they both seemed friendly. That Shawn was a bit too friendly, but I liked him.
A lot.
He is a bit on stocky side, but not overweight. His build is solid muscle, almost no fat at all and he was pretty thick.
Wonder if he’s “thick” everywhere?
Really Beth? Stop it, you bad girl. You were already naughty enough for the evening when you let them listen to Tom fuck your brains out.
The thought of letting them hearing me have sex turns me on. It embarrasses and excites me at the same time, but that’s what the whole rush is about when it comes to exhibtionism. It’s like I should be ashamed that they know what I sound like while getting screwed but I’m excited that they know this intimate detail about me.
And to think that after they all go fishing in the morning, Tom invited them to float with us and they want us to drink with them.
I can only imagine how tomorrow will go. My insides flip and churn just thinking about it.
Chapter 5
Tom
As hot as it was that Shawn and Hunter heard me fucking my wife last night, it was even hotter to watch her squirm when Shawn flirted with her.
I pretended not to notice and turned a blind eye, but none of it was lost on me. I caught every glance he stole, every scan of her body, and every smile he gave her.
I was also completely aware of her reaction to him. I’m not sure if she even realizes how much she was flirting back with him, but I watched her giggle and tip her head at everything he said while she batted her eyelashes up at him.
She can be quite the flirt herself when she wants to be, but I don’t say a word. I’m afraid that if I do, she’ll stop being a little flirt and it’s so much fun to watch her.
There’s no denying that she was floored when she thought I was oblivious to it all, but that’s what makes her even cuter and everything that much hotter.
The thing is with Beth, I know she’d never cheat on me or leave me for another guy. We’re too close for that to happen and I know that I love her with every fiber of my being. It’s clear by her actions that she feels the same way.
There’s not a day that doesn’t go by that Beth doesn’t plop herself into my lap while I play with those long, sandy locks of hers or that she doesn’t jump into my arms when I hold her tight.
That woman is my life, and she’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Sure, there are lots of pretty girls in this world—beautiful ones even—but they don’t have the charisma that my wife has or the sweetest personality that any man could ever wish for.
When I met my wife, I knew she was the one. I fell for her, and I fell hard. Hard and fast. It didn’t take long to learn that she was a hidden gem, and I’d just discovered man’s richest treasure.
She swears that we met at a little coffee shop, but we met once before that. I’ve brought it up before but she doesn’t remember, so I let her tell the story her way because I love her.
And I love seeing her eyes light up the way they do when she tells our story. Her angelic face comes to life, and those smokey eyes pull you in, lulling you with every word.
We initially met at a party that one of my friends threw. It was about four months before I saw her at the coffee shop, and I was so glad to have run into her again. Luckily for me, she was a damsel in distress and I’m all about being the hero of the story, so I saved her.
At the party, she didn’t even give me a second glance, but I watched her like a hawk. She came alone and was dressed to kill. A short red dress hugged every damn curve of her body, accentuating her round bubble butt and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She definitely has that effect on men, and I see it all the time. I don’t get jealous because I know she’s mine and nothing or no one will ever change that. I’m very proud to call this woman my wife. She’s so beautiful and she doesn’t even know it.
I know that Beth carries a huge torch for me, but in my eyes, she’s a complete goddess. She has no clue how much I treasure her, and I’m so happy to let the whole world know that she’s mine.
Beth is beautiful, smart, funny, witty, and whatever else you can imagine. If it’s a good trait, she has it. And I know she’s not perfect. She gets cranky every now and then or stressed out, but that’s life. We all do it.
From across the room, I watched a few guys approach her, but she politely brushed them off as she laughed and talked within her circle of friends. There was something about the way she carried herself that captured my attention.
My plan was to go over and talk to her once her group of friends broke up and went their separate ways so that she wouldn’t reject me like the others but that’s not quite how things worked out.
While I was watching her, I saw some drunk chic bump into her, and it caused a little of her drink to spill down the front of her low-cut dress. It took every ounce of me not to offer to lick it off of her.
Instead, I approached her with paper towels and offered to go out to my car where I kept a gym bag with a spare change of clothes that she would be able to put on. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt.
Initially, she said yes, but by the time I returned inside the party and tried to find her, she’d already left so I never got to see her again. I didn’t dare ask who she was because I figured she might have a boyfriend or something, but I hoped that I’d find her again one day so when I spotted her in the coffee shop, I knew it might have been my only chance.
She was so adorable with her wet hair that curled around the edges, and the way her wet clothes clung to her is a sight that I could look at every minute of every day.
I love the swell of her hips and how round they are, and how they contrast to her waist. My wife has the perfect hourglass figure, and I thank my lucky star that she has some meat on her bones.
There’s nothing better than kissing her thick thighs while I hold onto her full-figured hips when I go down on her. There’s nothing small about my wife—except her pussy.
She’s no saint and has been with her fair share of men before our marriage, but that’s one thing—the only thing—that’s small about her. If she hadn’t told me her number of sexual partners, I would’ve assumed that she was a virgin as tight as she is.
That’s one thing I’ve fantasized about: the pleasure she could give so many other men. We’ve always been exhibitionists and have had sex in plenty
of public places, but just once, I’ve always secretly wished that one of the many men who’ve seen me banging my wife would join in.
I can only imagine what another man’s face could look like as he enjoyed my wife’s body. And her face, that sweet angelic face. Those smoky eyes and pouty lips.
I’ve imagined those puffy, swollen lips of hers wrapped around my cock while another guy fucked her from behind.
So when I see other men flirting with my wife, I welcome it. I pretend not to notice and turn a blind eye because there’s some deep, fucked up part of me that wants her to experience sex with someone else and be pleasured by another man. I want to know how much she enjoys having sex with other people.
I know I should probably go to sex therapy or something because something must be wrong with me for wishing these things but I can’t. I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to admit it. I can’t even tell my wife what I want. How am I supposed to tell a stranger with some high and mighty degree what I want my wife to do?
And I know what the doctor would say. He or she would say, “Tom, you’re sick. There are some deep psychological issues that resonate from your childhood. Come see me for an hour a week for the next few months.”
I’m not paying some head shrink to take my money to tell me that my fantasies are wrong. We all have different things that interest us, that makes our clocks tick. For some people, it’s food. For others, it’s drugs. For me, it’s sex.
Beth has no clue just how much sex occupies my mind. While I’m at work, I imagine what my wife looks like as she’s bent over the bed of a hot military guy at the hospital as she takes his vitals or how she might be naked in the shower, lathering up her body with her scented body wash.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished she’d play a nurse in the bedroom with me so I could really imagine what she looks like while she’s working, but I’ve never brought it up. I’m sure she doesn’t want to bring her work into the bedroom.
I know I wouldn’t want to bring my work into the bedroom.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for her.
