by Ben Boswell
He didn’t give her even a moment to recover. Without hesitation he rolled them over and rose up above her on this muscular arms. He pulled his cock almost all the way out of her pussy, until just the tip remained lodged between her swollen labia. She looked up at him. Gone was the blowjob queen of earlier and also the confident woman riding her man. She was sated and tired, and at his mercy. He seemed to relish this change in her. He gave her a cocky smile.
Then he thrust into her, so hard and fast that it made her gasp. His smile widened. He pulled out again, slowly, slowly, relishing the feel of her pussy on his cock as it withdrew. Now there was another pause, just a moment briefer than before, and another brutal thrust.
“Ai!” she cried out.
She put her hands on his belly as if to slow him, but he was having none of it. He gave her two, quick, hard strokes. She cried out, shaking her head, but she didn’t try to push him off. Instead, she rolled her hips upward, lifting her legs in the air, opening herself completely for him, surrendering to his desires.
A satisfied grin crossed his face. He leaned forward and gave her a small, tender kiss on the cheek. Then he again raised himself up on his arms and began fucking her hard. He plunged into her over and over, pulling almost all the out before burying himself inside her roughly.
Her big tits jiggled wildly, the daybed creaked ominously. The sounds of their bodies slapping together provided a rhythmic accompaniment to their rough coupling. And above it all, her high-pitched cries of passion. “Ai, los Dios! Ai, los Dios! Ai, los Dios.”
Then abruptly she threw her head back, and her toes curled high in the air. She let out a guttural gasp as her body shuddered violently. He fell forward onto her, attacking her neck as he raced towards his own climax.
Unexpectedly I thought about Claire. Had he also possessed her so completely? I knew he had. Just like Annabelle’s stepmom, Claire would have been equally powerless to resist his size, his forcefulness. She too would have lain there, unable to think of anything other than his thrusting cock, crying out in passion, until a roaring orgasm carried her away.
He groaned. I looked up in time to see him pull out and splatter an impressive load of cum all over her stomach and tits… just as he’d done less than twelve hours ago to my wife.
Claire! I remembered I was actually trailing her. How long had I been at the cabana? I ducked my head back under the fabric curtain and curled up inside the hedge. I checked my phone. Shit. I’d wasted forty minutes watching them fuck.
I had a series of texts from Claire.
--got kicked out of the cabana! OMG, I feel like a kid again
--going to pool bar. Looking for trouble. Think we’ll find some? ;-)
--John? You still into this? She’s getting wacky. Better get over here.
--uh oh, fire eater and friends just came by. Inviting us back to their place. Should we go?
That last text was over fifteen minutes ago.
I imagined the two of them, surrounded by a group of admirers. Tan, buff, young men, fawning over them. They would view Claire through the lens of Annabelle’s conduct. She wouldn’t be a respected guest; she’d be a drunken slut, an easy mark, like her blonde friend. They’d crowd around her, their hands too familiar, brushing her hair, touching her shoulder, grazing her thigh.
I imagined Annabelle whispering in her ear, a sloppy over-loud whisper that everyone could hear. Come on, you little slut, let’s show them a good time. Claire would glance over her shoulder, looking for me. Buzzed and giddy, she’d interpret my absence as permission, even encouragement. She’d give Annabelle a quick nod. The men would cheer and, sandwiching the girls between their hard bodies, they’d lead the girls back to the staff dorm.
One of the men would casually rest his hand on Claire’s ass as they walked, another would drape his arm over her shoulder and cup her breast. They’d be rushing the women along, wanting to get started before they could change their minds. Claire would feel their hunger. There were so many of them. Five or six surrounding them already, more, probably waiting at the barracks. She’d be tempted to turn and run, but she’d be emboldened by Annabelle’s example. The blonde would not only enjoy the fondling, she’d be running her hands over the firm muscles of her escorts herself.
The walk to the dorm would be shorter than Claire had anticipated. Before she’d really had time to think about what was going to happen, they’d have her inside, shuttled into a large common room. There would be sports on the TV, a radio blaring hip-hop, and a foosball table surrounded by rattan sofas and armchairs. The men would be mostly dark skinned, a melting pot of Latinos, Hawaiians, beefy Polynesians, and a couple of blond surfer dudes from California.
Claire would be paralyzed with doubt. She’d push away the men’s hands. But Annabelle would set the mood. Letting out a drunken whoop and lifting her arms in the air, she’d begin dancing lewdly to the music, shaking her tits and grinding her ass. The men would swarm around her, hands pawing at her clothes. When Claire was able to see her again through a gap between the writhing bodies, Annabelle would be on her knees, eagerly sucking cock. The men around Claire would groan in jealousy. Turning toward her, they would quickly strip my wife. When she didn’t drop to her knees of her own volition, they’d lead her over to the foosball table.
It would be an out-of-body experience for a moment, as she watched them, rather than felt them, bend her over the table. She’d notice the little details of the foosball men, the imperfections, the damage from years of play, even as they spread her legs. She’d feel a fat hand on her ass, and look back over her shoulder to see an enormous Polynesian man standing behind her. His other hand would reach between her legs. Feeling her wetness, he’d smile broadly, and Claire would go red with embarrassment. She’d again study those little plastic men as he thrust his big prick inside her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
--need your help. Still at bar. You okay?
I came to my senses. Quickly wriggling out of the hedge, I brushed the dirt and leaves off my clothes. My legs and arms were covered with scrapes. I had no idea how I’d explain it.
I approached the bar and sure enough, Claire and Annabelle were at the center of a group of young men. But the blonde was far from the life of the party. She could barely hold up her head and was looking around dazed.
For a moment I thought evilly about just getting Claire out of there, leaving Annabelle to get her comeuppance. It would be an appropriate repayment for the trouble she’d caused last night. If she hadn’t shown up with Trent, if she hadn’t gotten into a pissing match with Claire, if she hadn’t gotten me high and kissed me, none of this would have happened. I’d have consummated my marriage with my wife rather than dazedly watching her impale herself on that English bastard’s fat prick. And if she was going to do all that anyway, the least she could have done is fucked me silly rather than running off with the first tanned, hard body to make a pass at her.
I sighed. I couldn’t do that to her. She was just too drunk. It wasn’t fair. Whatever she’d done, she didn’t deserve to have her semi-conscious body passed around like a sex doll.
I edged my way into the mix, and the mood immediately changed. The guys glared at me angrily, but this was no longer just a couple of drunk sluts out for a good time. With me there, they had to behave with a minimum of deference to our status as guests. When I made clear I wasn’t leaving, they slowly, regretfully broke away in ones and twos until just the girls and I remained.
“I thought you were going to leave us to our fate,” Claire said.
“Oh, you can handle yourself.”
She smirked. “Yeah, but last night should have taught you that I don’t always want to when I’m drunk.”
“I still can’t believe you fucked him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, neither can I.”
Just then Annabelle chimed in drunkenly. “Where are the guys? I need to get fucked.” She belied that assertion by immediately closing her eyes and dozing off.
&n
bsp; “How come you’re not as drunk as her?”
“I switched to virgins a couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to be too hammered for my first girl-on-girl make out session.”
“Would you really have gone through with it?”
“I dunno. Maybe at least part way. I do owe you big time.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She eyed me curiously. “Why aren’t you more upset? I was seeing red when you and Annabelle started getting cozy, and that…”
“… is nothing compared to what you did,” I said, finishing her sentence. “Honestly, I don’t know. Truth is, from the moment I first saw you with Trent, I’ve been fantasizing wildly about you.”
“With him?”
I nodded. “And others. Her,” I said pointing to Annabelle, “them,” I added gesturing toward the retreating staffers.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Believe me, I have it all mapped out. Do you like foosball?”
As I said it, I had another vision. Claire was still bent over the foosball table. The big Samoan had just finished. As he backed away, I could see her battered cunt, swollen, very red, gaping open, a thin stream of jism leaking out and running down her thigh. And then another man stepped forward and penetrated her forcefully.
“Huh?”
I laughed. “Never mind. What are we going to do with her?”
“We need to get her home.”
I nodded. We each took her under one arm and lifted her up and carried her out of the bar.
We managed to get Annabelle to mumble where she was staying. It was one of those beachfront villas. I was jealous of the Millionaire for a second, until I remembered that his wife was, at that very moment, getting railed by Trent in a poolside cabana. Then again, that just gave us something in common. I had the feeling that the membership of the “cuckolded by Trent” club was vast.
We knocked on the door. One of the young boys opened the door.
“Dad, Annabelle’s back.”
The Millionaire glared at us from the living room.
“She had a little too much to drink,” I said, for some reason apologizing for her.
He rolled his eyes. “Her room’s upstairs.”
He didn’t bother to get up and help us as we manhandled her up the stairs. We got her into her room, and draped her across the bed.
“Should we get her out of her clothes?” I asked.
Claire raised an eyebrow at me.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
She laughed. “She’ll be okay. She’s barely wearing anything anyway.”
As we came back down the stairs, I was again struck by her father’s almost complete disinterest in her condition.
“Um, so your daughter…“
He actually sighed at me.
Just then the front door opened and his wife flounced in. My wife was still in her pool attire, a bikini and wrap. I was covered in scrapes and dirt. We obviously didn’t belong. Seeing us, she approached her husband. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, waving her cleavage in his face. I wondered if he could smell Trent’s come on her or whether the flash of boob was enough to distract him from everything else.
“Jerry, is everything okay?” she asked, rolling the Rs delightfully.
“Everything fine’s Elsa. Just my daughter, getting into her usual trouble.”
She sighed and rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. “Just like her mother.” Then she added, under her breath, but loud enough for us to hear, “La puta.”
This display of world class chutzpah was enough to make me feel sympathy for Annabelle. Maybe she was a drunken whore, but having this woman as a stepmother would drive anyone to distraction.
I felt Claire’s hand on my shoulder. “We should go,” she said to me. And to the parents, she added, “Have a good evening Mr. and Mrs. Zimmer.”
She led me to the front door. We stepped outside into a warm, tropical evening. We walked for a little while in silence. Without Annabelle there to distract us from our own issues, things were awkward between us. But there was something about the smells, the sounds of the ocean waves, the beauty of the resort and lighted pools that just ate away the tension.
I reached down and took my wife’s hand in mine. She looked over at me and smiled.
“For a second there I thought you were going to smack her.”
“Can you believe that woman?”
Claire laughed. “She is something else, but you gotta admit, Abs is a hot mess.”
“Abs?”
“Anna Belle. She goes by Abs.”
“Seems like you two bonded.”
She laughed again. “Yeah, over tales of debauchery.”
“I doubt you hold a candle to her.”
“Well, last night went a long way toward evening our slut scores.”
I nodded. That was certainly true. Sex with a stranger. Check. Sex in public. Check. Fucking another man in front of your husband. Check. Going back to his room to continue screwing. Check. Waking him up the next morning with a hummer to get some more dick. Check. Walk of shame back to your own room without your panties. Check.
“You never told me you’d had a threesome.”
“You never asked.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve also never asked if you’d had sex with a donkey. But I figure if you had a thing for animals, it might have come out.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Yuck.”
“So, story?”
“It isn’t really that interesting.”
“Stop stalling.”
“Okay, well, you remember the booze cruise story?”
I nodded.
“Well, this was that night.” She paused and laughed. “You know what? That might have been ten years ago to the day of yesterday. That would be a weird coincidence. It’s like I’m a once-in-a-decade slut. A decaslut.”
“I think a decaslut would be a slut times ten, actually, if I remember my metric right.”
She shrugged. Whatever. “It’s not like we really stopped drinking, though we did take a break to nap on the beach at one point. We ended up going to this dance club, and of course they were holding a wet tee shirt contest.”
“You didn’t!”
“God no. They were even smaller back then. All the contestants were built like Elsa or Abs. I wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Well, I don’t think winning is really the idea. The idea is showing off and maybe widening the universe of guys who want to fuck you.”
“Believe me, that wasn’t a problem. I couldn’t turn around that trip without some guy showing me his prick. Fucking Cancun and the Internet are the two places where guys think exposing their cocks is an effective pick up technique.”
“It probably works if you’re hung like Trent.”
She chuckled ruefully. “He is definitely something.”
“We can talk about Mr. Wonder Dick later. Finish your story.”
“You mentioned it.” She paused. “Anyway, I ended up with my friend Tammy and this group of guys from Michigan and another couple of girls from, like Alabama and Texas or something. I think we ended up sharing a bus taxi back to the hotel or something. We sat out by this filthy pool. No one wanted to go in. You can imagine how nasty it was. Couldn’t even get a drunk college boy to jump in on a dare. Anyway, everyone sort of paired off. Alabama girl went off first with one boy. So we’re all making fun of her, calling her a slut and shit. And then a few minutes later one of the guys takes Tammy’s hand and leads her away! And I’m like, ‘you whore, don’t leave me out here.’ She just giggled and kept walking.”
“How many guys were left?”
“Three. So, of course, Miss Texas grabs the guy on her right and disappears and I’m left with these two guys.”
“You didn’t have to fuck them, you know.”
She shrugged. “It seemed rude not to.”
I looked at her incredulously.
“I don’t know how to explain it. It just didn’t occur to me not to. Bel
ieve me, I didn’t really want to. It’s not like I was burning with passion for those guys. But whatever. You’ve never had sex with a woman just because it was sort of expected?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Anyway, we went back up to their room. Thankfully their other roommates were still out.”
“What, you’d have felt obligated to fuck them too?”
“No, probably not, but they might have watched.”
“So, wait a minute. When you went back to their room, you were not only planning to have sex with two guys you’d just met that night, but you were also prepared to let their roommates watch?”
“Maybe I am a decaslut after all, huh?”
“I’ll say.”
She laughed. “Well, now I’m feeling pressure to give this story a good ending. Should I work a donkey into it? Anyway, it was sort of anticlimactic. Somehow letting them take turns on me seemed even worse, so I decided to just do them both at the same time. We got naked. They took turns fingering me. I jerked their cocks.”
“At the same time?”
“Yup. One in each hand. One guy had a bad case of whiskey dick, so I ended up just sucking on his limp dick while the other guy hammered me for a few minutes from behind. He finished up. I faked it. The guy with the soggy noodle finally tapped out in embarrassment. Maybe ten minutes from start to end.”
“Romantic.”
She laughed. “Believe me, it would not make my list of top ten sexual experiences.”
Somehow I knew that she couldn’t say that about her night with Trent.
“Okay, now the butt sex.”
“What? Oh right, you heard that.”
I nodded. She sighed.
“Remember Terry?”
“Yeah.”
I knew him from when Claire and I first started dating. He was part of a group of friends she hung out with, and I knew there had been something between them. He disappeared from her life at some point. I have a vague recollection he moved out East or something.
