by Ben Boswell
“So you know we dated, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, he was always, I dunno, obsessed about that part of my body.”
“You do have a great ass.”
“Why, thank you,” she replied with a giggle. “He thought so, too. He always wanted to have sex so he could see it.”
I thought about Claire’s admission to Annabelle that she’d done it with Trent doggy style. He seemed to share Terry’s judgment.
“He was always poking around back there, you know, during sex.”
“Do you like that?”
She nodded. “Who doesn’t like an occasional finger in the butt?”
“I’ve never… you’ve never mentioned it.”
She stopped and turned toward me. “It’s not really an easy thing to say. Even to someone you love. ‘I want you to put a finger in my ass.’ Sharing fantasies, even something as minor as that, is hard sometimes.”
I nodded. She continued looking at me. Was she expecting me to make an admission as well? Something about voyeurism? And wanting to see her with another man?
She turned and continued walking. “So, one day, I think it was his birthday, I told him he could, you know. I figured, what the heck. We shared a bottle of wine, then got in the shower together. It was quite nice actually. He was kissing me, down there, and fingering me in the butt with his soapy finger.”
“You told Abs you didn’t like it.”
“There is a big difference between a finger, or even a thumb, and a penis. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Anyway. We dried off and got into bed. He used a lot of lube. All textbook. Then he put it in, all slow and gentle, and it was like, ‘Oh fuck, this is not what I was expecting.’”
“Did you make him stop?”
She shook her head. “No, you know, I kept thinking it would get better, and it was his birthday and his fantasy and all that shit. But I’ll tell you what, I have never been more happy to have a man come on my ass than I was when he finally finished.”
We walked on in silence. I was weirdly disappointed. In a weird way, I’d wanted the stories to be hot. I’d wanted to hear my wife describing some enthusiastic, wild, athletic threesome. I’d wanted to hear her gushing about how much she’d loved getting fucked in the ass. I knew that I would have looked down on her for those stories, thought her a slut. And yet, it would undoubtedly turn me on.
“You’re very accommodating.”
“Huh?”
“Well, you fucked those two guys rather than disappoint them. And you let Terry finish even though you weren’t enjoying it. And it seems like you might have been willing to go through with messing around with Annabelle to placate me.”
I wondered what that meant about Trent and last night. Had she really thought she was fulfilling my fantasy? I chuckled softly. Having seen Trent at work, I doubted she saw that as a sacrifice.
“What?”
“I was just thinking that you probably enjoyed yourself last night.”
“Oh John, you know I was just exaggerating for Annabelle’s sake. I mean it was fine, but you know, nothing earth shattering.”
“Oh please, the guy is a machine.”
She shook her head. “I thought you said you were completely out of it.”
“I was last night… Oh fuck, I totally forgot to mention it.”
“What?”
I laughed. “You know why I was so late coming to the bar earlier?”
She shook her head. “I thought you were making me sweat.”
“No. It’s…” I hesitated. It was sort of embarrassing to explain. We were already at the elevator and there were other people waiting as well. “I’ll tell you when we get to the room.”
It gave me a few moments to compose myself. My revelation, my voyeurism, was certainly no bigger an admission than her stories, and of course, it paled in comparison to what she’d done. Being in Hawaii seemed to have loosened both our tongues. I wasn’t sure how we’d deal with the fallout once we got back to sunny Seattle, but for now it seemed that there was no point holding back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She was staring at me expectantly as I closed the door to our room. I was exhausted and plopped down on bed.
“You won’t believe this,” I began.
She took a seat in the armchair across from me. She gave me a curious look. “Go on.”
“So, I got your message about cabana five.”
“Right, but I told you we got kicked out by Abs’ stepmom.”
“Well, I didn’t get that message right away. You probably didn’t send it until you got to the bar?”
She nodded.
“I got the cabana and I heard, well, moaning inside.”
“What, Elsa was pleasuring herself?”
I pictured that. Her mocha skin, her legs splayed wide, her breasts pushed together as she played with herself with both hands. Her snatch spread open for her massaging finger, her other hand furiously rubbing her clit.
“Better.”
I explained about the passway and the hedge. I described how I wedged my head beneath the fabric wall to peer inside.
Claire laughed. “Good God, John. You crawled through dirt and wedged yourself into shrubbery just to get a glimpse of her?”
“I thought it was you and Annabelle.”
“Even still. What if someone had caught you? How would you have explained it?”
I shrugged. “You wanna hear the story or what?”
She nodded eagerly even as she said, “you’re crazy.”
“Maybe. But anyway, it was Elsa, but she wasn’t alone.”
Claire put her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, she’s got the same obsession as her stepdaughter? Was it the same waiter?”
“What? No. It wasn’t a waiter. It wasn’t a staff member. It was…” I paused to let her anticipation build. “… your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my… SHUT UP! She was with Trent?”
She put her hand to her mouth and looked at me wide eyed.
“I can’t tell if you’re amused, surprised, jealous, or mad,” I said. I was personally quite entertained by her reaction.
“I dunno,” she said. “That fuck. He’d just spent the night with me.”
I laughed. “You didn’t think you really meant anything to him, did you?”
Her face fell and I immediately regretted saying it.
“I’m sorry, that was mean.”
“Yeah, but I earned it.”
“No, you didn’t. He’s very charming –“
“How’d he get her in there?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. By the time I got a look, they were both naked and she was on her hands and knees sucking on his big cock.”
“He’s not that big,” she replied, looking for any way to diminish him.
I raised my eyebrow at her.
“Okay, he is. But he’s still an asshole. But wait, that was only like, what, five minutes after she kicked us out?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like there was any doubt about what they were there for.”
She shook her head. “Jesus. The fucker must have started working on her the second he got me out of his suite.”
“He certainly does seem to have a one-track mind.”
“Okay, so…” she prompted
“So?” I asked puzzled.
“So, tell me everything.”
“I dunno, she sucked him for a while, and then…”
“No, no. Tell me everything. How does she look naked? Was she any good?”
I laughed. “You’re hoping I’ll tell you she’s chubby out of her swimsuit and that she’s a lousy lay?”
“It would be good if it also turned out he was flatulent and had erectile dysfunction.” She laughed as well. “But I’m guessing that wasn’t the case.”
I shook my head.
“No, actually, they were quite impressive.”
I could see her contemplating that. Was she having the same weirdly vivid visions I wa
s? Was she even now, imagining the two of them together?
“Tell me more. You said she was completely naked?”
I nodded, suddenly dry-mouthed.
She rose and deftly removed her wrap and slipped off her bikini.
“Like this?” she asked.
She stepped closer and I reached out and ran my fingertips over her soft skin, encircling her small breasts, tickling her flat stomach, trailing my fingers through her closely trimmed muff. I could feel her wetness already.
“You’re excited.”
“I’ve been thinking about and talking about sex all day long.”
“After a night of illicit passion.”
“Is it any wonder I’m all hot and bothered? Now stop teasing and get on with the story.”
I continued to run my hands through her pubic hair and between her legs. “Elsa is completely shaved.”
“Does that turn you on?” she asked, cupping her hands over mine.
“Yeah.”
“Why haven’t you ever asked me to shave?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I have for other men when they’ve asked for it.”
Of course. Always so accommodating. Was she fully shaved when she fucked that guy on the booze cruise? Did everyone get to see his cock sliding into her bare snatch? Was she shaved for Terry when he fucked her up the ass?
I fingered her pussy lips. “Elsa’s labia were very wet, very swollen.”
“Like a bitch in heat,” Claire growled lustily.
“Is that how you think of yourself.”
She snickered enigmatically. “Tell me about her tits.”
“They’re big. But really nice. Obviously natural. A little saggy, but just a little. Gorgeous, long, erect nipples.”
“Do you wish I had bigger tits like Elsa?”
Like Elsa? No. But like the Newlywed, with those bouncing torpedoes… I reached up and tweaked her nipples between my thumb and forefingers, feeling them stiffen at my touch.
“No. I love your breasts.”
I leaned forward and took her left boob into my mouth, feeling the hard nipple against my tongue. I sucked harder until I heard her gasp.
“Anything more than a mouthful is wasted,” I added.
“I thought you said he was naked too?”
I nodded and quickly shed my clothes. I slid back on the bed and opened my legs. I described her pose, back arched, ass high in the air. Claire adopted the same position and crawled up between my legs.
“Like this?”
“Uh huh,” I muttered as she ran her fingertips over my erection.
“Where were you?”
“What?”
“I mean, what angle did you have?”
“I, um, was sort of below the bed, to the side.”
“That’s too bad. You probably have a better view now,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the mirror on the wall.
I followed her gaze. God, she was right. With her legs slightly apart, and her butt high in the air, I had a perfect view of her gorgeous ass. I could see her snatch, glistening with excitement, and her asshole, that tight little rosebud. She swayed her ass back and forth sexily.
“Then what?” she asked.
“She swallowed him deep.”
“Impressive,” Claire commented.
“What? You sucked him, didn’t you?”
“Mmmm, I did. But I mostly just licked him like an ice cream cone,” she said, proceeding to demonstrate by lashing my prick with the flat of her tongue. “I could barely get the head in my mouth,” she added, now swallowing my glans and sucking on it like a lollipop.
“Do you wish I had a bigger cock?”
“No. I love your prick. Anyway,” she paused and swallowed me to the root.
I gasped with pleasure and threw my head back as she bobbed up and down, taking me completely in her mouth over and over, the tip of her tongue tickling my shaft, her hands fondling my balls. She let me slip from her mouth while continuing to stroke my wet prick.
“Anyway,” she continued, “anything more than a mouthful is wasted.”
She grinned at me, and I smiled back at her repackaging of my little white lie. She resumed making love to my prick. I alternated between watching her swallowing me deep and peeking in the mirror to admire her perfect ass.
“Did he come in her mouth?” she asked between tongue lashes.
Had he come in Claire’s mouth? In her pussy? Or her ass? Or had he finished on her tits and stomach like he did to Elsa? Did it matter to me?
“No,” I replied. “She climbed on top of him.”
Claire cooed happily. “Oh god, I was hoping you’d say that.”
I maneuvered her into the same position Elsa had been in, and I watched entranced as she slowly lowered herself on me. With her pelvis tilted forward, I had a perfect view of my cock disappearing inside her hot, tight box. She rose up, until my prick was ready to pop out. I could feel her slick labia clinging to the head of my cock, and then she firmly impaled herself on me again.
As she settled down in lap, I grabbed her ass firmly. She took the hint and began thrusting against me hard.
“Did she fuck him like this?” she asked, her gaze fiery.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
She closed her eyes, and I knew she was imagining herself riding Trent’s fat cock. I played his role. I mauled her tits roughly and then leaned forward and sucked her breasts into my mouth hard enough for her to squeal. I could feel her pussy get even wetter. Each thrust now accompanied by a damp squishing sound.
I could feel her body building to a climax. She was slick with perspiration. Her movements became ragged. I bit her nipple, lightly, not enough to draw blood. She shuddered, and with a high squeak began to convulse on my cock.
“Oh God, oh God,” she sighed. “Fuck.”
I continued to mimic him. I rolled her onto her back and pulled almost all the way out. When her eyes again focused on me, I rammed into her.
“Ugh!” she growled.
I knew she was still sensitive from her orgasm, and that my thrust was rougher than she expected.
“Slow, John, slow.”
She put her hands on my belly to slow me. But she had become Elsa and I was Trent. I plunged into her hard, once, twice. She didn’t surrender immediately, and I had to reach under her knees and raise her legs. I press down on her hamstrings, forcing her thighs down to her chest. I looked down to see her cunt, completely open for me. I hammered into her again.
“He didn’t slow down,” I replied. Now I was speaking for both his encounter with Elsa and his time with Claire.
I plunged into her again and again, though I couldn’t really duplicate his performance. His size made a difference here, as did his stamina. Claire was gasping beneath me, but I wasn’t able to completely dominate her, force her to submit the way he’d done to Elsa. Still, the sensation of her wide open and vulnerable was intoxicating. I plunged into her again and again. And then with a shudder, I came hard, emptying three days’ worth of fantasies and anxieties inside her.
She relaxed when she felt me come. She wrapped her arms around me. We kissed tenderly. For a moment, it was just the two of us, huddled inside a protective cocoon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
That warm, peaceful sensation only lasted a few moments. Truth was, we’d unleashed too many passions for them to go dormant again so quickly.
We were too tired to go out to dinner, so we ordered in and ate on the balcony. We weren’t hungry for a full meal, so we just had some appetizers and a bottle of white. After all our boozing, sharing a single bottle of wine felt like moderation.
We passed the binoculars back and forth. I suspected Claire was secretly trying to spy on Trent, while I was hoping to get a glimpse of the Newlyweds, but we had to make do with other targets.
I caught a glimpse of the Lesbians walking through the resort, hand in hand. I had thought them a little too ripped, too butch on first inspection. But dressed up in
their evening attire, I had to admit they were sexy women. The taller brunette had her hair down, flowing in waves over her shoulder, while the younger, shorter blonde, in her spaghetti-strap top would have looked at home in a high end, Los Angeles eatery. For some reason, I didn’t think these two suffered from Lesbian Bed Death. They were too fit, too self-assured for that.
Elsa and Jerry were sitting at a prime table in the ocean front lounge. For some reason, I didn’t think she shared with him her extracurricular adventures. Not that I felt bad for him. My guess was that he had a mistress on the side as well. They probably both thought they were putting one over on the other. They deserved each other.
We both looked for Annabelle, but couldn’t spot her. She was surely up to some tawdry adventure.
“She’s weirdly fun in a lunatic way,” Claire noted.
“You think of her as a friend?”
My wife nodded. “Yeah, enough that it would have felt weird fooling around with her.”
I laughed.
“What?”
“Well, it’s just funny. I mean, you hated her at first, so much that seeing her with Trent sent you over the edge.”
“I know. God, I was so jealous. I’ve never... I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to show her she wasn’t such hot shit.”
“Yeah, and you also just wanted to fuck him.”
“Okay. But I also wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
“Really Claire?” I asked skeptically.
“No, really John. I still don’t know. You have to admit you keep sending mixed messages.”
“Oh come on…”
“You come on!”
I opened my mouth to respond, and then shut it when I realized I didn’t know what to say. What the hell did I want? Truth is for the last couple of days I’d been more horned up than I’d been since I was a teenager. Sex was all I could think about. I was fantasizing about every woman, and fantasizing about my wife with every man. I didn’t want her to have sex with Trent, but it turned me on, thinking about it, agonizing over it.
“You’re right,” I finally admitted. “Do you think this is our way of expressing that we’re having cold feet about getting married?”
“I’m not sure about cold feet. I don’t have any doubts. But, it is a change, you know. It says something about us that it took us seven years to take this step.”
