The Cayman Proxy (Box One): An Erotic Hotwife Box Set

by KT Morrison

  After he’d towelled off he put on some shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed a towel and headed back to the kitchen. He called downstairs and arranged for some dinner reservations, told them somewhere really nice, 5 P.M.

  He went out to the patio and saw that it had got cloudy. He looked down at the beach and it wasn’t that busy. He got the binoculars and looked around. There were people at the pool, and around the resort, but only a handful of people in the water. He saw them finally, the three of them over by the loungers in the sand, the only ones out there. Kiley was standing and talking with Kate as she sat on the lounger. Omar was next to her in a lounger that was pushed right up next to hers.

  Wasn’t sure it really looked like it might be worth going down, maybe they’d head up soon anyway. Kiley was counting the fingers on one hand, getting some instructions from Kate. Nodding, laughing, then walking off, the wind blowing her hair right across her face as she walked out of the binoculars.

  He took a sip of his drink, looked around the binoculars and saw Kiley crossing the resort. He put them back up and watched Kate and Omar talking.

  They looked like two teenage girls, both sitting side by side on their backs, up on their elbows, chatting away, smiling, talking with their hands. They looked a little close and he felt his neck tighten a bit. He didn’t like it much.

  Kate leaned over really close to him and said something in his ear. Or did she kiss him? She sat back again and looked at him, her pink caftan ruffling in the wind. She put her hand on his hip. He was wearing those little white swimming briefs again. She slid her hand down between his legs, over his bulge, caressed it. She put her hand over it, squeezed it, bigger than her outstretched hand. Mitch felt the sweat on his upper lip.

  Omar looked into Kate’s eyes while she spoke to him and he thought she was absolutely out of this world. Glasses up in her hair, her long eyelashes, her flawless skin, shining hair.

  “I thought she was never going to get out of here,” she said. She had her hand on him rubbing him through his swim trunks.

  “She’ll be back,” he said. “I need to take my time with you.”

  “So what’s your family like? Where do you come from?” Scratching her nails along his length, he could feel himself beginning to push against the fabric.

  “I’m named Omar after my grandfather. He came to Paris from Morocco in the fifties and worked at a shipyard. My Dad was also Omar.”

  “How did he meet your mom?” She was gripping his sack now, squeezing his balls.

  “He was an art student at University and she was from America, studying abroad.”

  “Did they ever marry?”

  “No,” he said, “But they lived together until I was seven.”

  “Did she raise you?” He looked down and could see right inside his trunks, the waistband pulled out as he got hard, his cock pushing out in a direction trapped in fabric.

  “Yes,” he said. She was looking into the gap at his waistband and she slid her open palm along his belly and put her fingers around his bare cock, squeezed him, released him from the briefs.

  “Because she was blonde and pretty and she spoke English she got a good job at Euro Disney—” She pulled his cock out, straight up and flat against his belly, his waistband pinching the underside about halfway. “Disneyland Paris. That was when I think I was eight.”

  She ran her fingers up it and over the ruffled skin at the end. She put her finger into his foreskin and circled the tip. She wasn’t looking at him, just watching her finger stretch his foreskin from the inside.

  “Did she ever meet anyone else?”

  He lifted his knee so some of the swimmers farther down wouldn’t see. “Not when I was at home. She lives with a man now.” She was getting him crazy.

  “And you always worked on engines?” Pulling now on his foreskin.

  “Yes. Always.” A clear line of fluid spilled out of the folds of his foreskin and onto his belly.

  “I love your big hands.” She used two fingers to pull it back from the head and then started tracing the tip of her finger over its swelling edges.

  “Do you like the feel of them on you?”

  “I love feeling them on me. I like how you make me feel so small.”

  He was almost fully hard, up past his belly button. She ran her fingers in circles over his sensitive spot on the underside, just where the head met the shaft and he was engorged, the purple-grey head glistening.

  He was breathing fast now.

  “You want to fuck me again, don’t you?” she said.

  “I’m going to fuck you again,” gently thrusting himself against her fingers.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “You’re going to beg me to keep doing it.”

  “You are going to fuck me again. You’re going to fuck me until I beg you to stop.”

  She looked at him, smiling, and sat back, grabbed her towel and threw it over him, covering him up.

  “Thanks, love,” she said, and Kiley was behind him with a couple of drinks, handing them to her. He bunched the towel up to make sure he was covered and smiled over at Kiley. She sat down next to Kate, giving him a blank look.

  He put his head back in the chair and listened to the two girls talk. Felt himself fading away under the towel, felt his balls ache. He thought about what she said and how he couldn’t wait to hold her down and make her beg him to stop.

  2

  Painted

  Mitch woke up and noticed Kate wasn’t in bed with him at around one thirty in the morning. He felt around at first in case she’d just got herself off to the edge of the king size. Her spot wasn’t even warm. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, wondered where she was.

  He’d watched his wife play with Omar’s cock from the balcony, pull it out on a public beach in the daytime and tease him. Probably drove Omar crazy too. Put an ache in his balls. Mitch was familiar with that. The crazy Kate he’d met at a bookshop in London. She was so sexy, so obviously sexual he had thought, that he was far too intimidated to even consider talking to her. But Kate caught him looking and worked her way over to him, and he knew she was coming. Like he was being stalked. He was frozen when she spoke to him, stuttered like a schoolboy when he replied. Couldn’t believe he was talking to her, really. Felt lucky.

  He fell for her hard. She was beautiful, smart, sexy. And dirty. He’d found that out soon enough. That was the Kate he fell in love with that day that he saw down there touching another man. The twenty-one-year-old sexually confident bookshop tigress on the prowl. It killed him that he wasn’t her prey this time.

  He got up and walked around the bedroom and checked the bathroom but the light wasn’t even on. He went out in his boxers and his T-shirt and walked down the hall to the living area. He could hear the television.

  He saw Kate laying on the couch with her legs up on it, lit in blue light from the flash of the plasma screen. He watched her for a moment as she lay there awake, watching a Housewives of something.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She looked up, startled, not expecting him. “Shit, Mitch—don’t sneak around like that.”

  He laughed at her and came into the room, sat at the end of the couch and put her legs up on his lap. “What’s up?”

  “I was just laying there with my eyes open and I couldn’t get to sleep. I would’ve turned the TV on in there but I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Why do you watch this shit?”

  “I was minding my business out here.”

  Mitch held one of her feet and pushed his knuckles gently against the sole. It was absent but still purposeful, he knew what she liked and she would let him know with the flexing of her toes.

  “That’s better,” she said.

  There was a presence in the dark hall, looming there, hesitant. Mitch’s heart pounded in a start and he flinched. Kate looked over too.

  “Jesus,” Mitch said.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” Omar said, with a slight wave of h
is open palms, like he was showing he was unarmed. He smiled then, somewhat amused that he’d given them a start. Kate laughed too and sat up.

  Omar said he hoped he wasn’t disturbing them and Mitch watched Kate answer him graciously, gushingly, like a schoolgirl. She invited him to watch TV with them.

  Omar looked to the armchair laden with dirty laundry and went to it but Kate stopped him. She scooted herself next to Mitch and patted the sofa next to her where her head had just been laying.

  “No, come sit with us,” she said. Mitch watched Omar come sit next to Kate, smiling, her smiling back at him. She sat between them now on the little couch really meant for two. Mitch pushed himself into the corner of the couch to make more room for Kate. He looked at her, just her profile as she chatted politely with Omar almost oblivious to Mitch now. She preened her hair while she talked with him, Mitch could sense her discomfort at her appearance. No makeup, unwashed hair in a ponytail, sitting braless in a tank and pyjama shorts.

  They watched TV together like that for a bit, the three of them perched on the couch facing forward, somewhat uncomfortably. As the show wore on their postures began to sag. Kate looked sleepy and Mitch watched her turn and say something to Omar, he looked at her and nodded, lifting his arm putting it around behind her to rest along the back of the couch. She leaned into him and lay sideways against him drawing her feet up and putting the cold little soles of her feet against the outside of Mitch’s thigh.

  He watched her hand deliberately move up to balance this new position coming to rest on Omar’s leg. A hollow dread filled Mitch’s belly and something else, maybe a sadness, but it came with a strange prostatic surge, a sexual feeling between his legs. He was going to get hard. He looked at her pale white hand, palm down on Omar’s dark leg, closer to his hip than his knee. This was Kate when she was aroused. She would start with Mitch this way sometimes. The casual placement of the hand meant to excite. Not so casual though—she knew what she was doing, he thought. He could feel himself start to stiffen and he plucked at his shorts to make some room, not wanting to be discovered.

  They watched TV like that for another few minutes, the pulse hard in his neck, breath shortened, and his erection sitting up straight and hard. He would glance over and look at her pretty profile watching TV, her head nestled into Omar’s trunk, just below his chest. Her hand rested on his leg. Was this move working on him too, was he getting hard?

  Kate shifted down towards Mitch again, her butt up against his hip. She lowered her head on Omar and he slouched so she could lay against his stomach now. Her head sat just above the waistband of his shorts and her hand came up to rest at the top of his thigh. What was she doing? Mitch hardened painfully.

  Kate lifted her top leg and placed her foot in his lap, wanting it to be rubbed. He looked down and the weight of her foot had tightened the fabric of his shorts against his upright cock. The pointy tip looking so small pushing up against the strain. He lifted her foot up and began to work his knuckles over the soles again. She flexed her toes and wiggled her heel in pleasure as he rubbed. The heel of her foot tapped the tip of his dick and she noticed. He looked down and could see a spreading semen stain, dark blue against the sky blue cotton. Her heel touched it again, confirming it. She manipulated him through his shorts with her heel, pressing his dick hard into him and moving herself in circles against it. She looked over her shoulder at him and stopped moving her foot.

  “Why are you so hard?”

  Omar looked over. Mitch could feel his face flush. He was embarrassed, unable to answer. He struggled to comprehend why she would say that out loud.

  “I, uh...” Kate sat up next to him. She was smiling coyly at him, not looking at him, but down at his shorts. She put her hand between his legs and ran her finger up him.

  “Did I do that to you?” she said.

  Mitch was amazed. This was just not the Kate he thought he knew. She turned to Omar and asked him if he was hard too. Omar chuckled and said he wasn’t, then added, Not yet. Kate leaned into Mitch, hugging him, her head resting on his chest now. Her hand parted the fly front of his boxers and the end of his dick was out. She stroked the sides of it with her thumb and finger.

  “Show me yours,” she said, looking at Omar.

  Omar looked back blankly at the two of them huddled into the opposite corner of the couch for a moment. With one hand he reached into his shorts and pulled out his cock. It flopped heavily over his waistband, bounced off his thigh and came to rest between his legs cradled by his shorts. Kate gripped Mitch hard now and Mitch could feel semen surge from his tip. Omar sat looking at them with one arm over the back of the couch, the other over the arm, his large flaccid cock confidently presented to them.

  “Well, I’m a little sore tonight, but I’d like to see where this could go.”

  Omar took his dick in his right hand and began to stroke it. It swung around in his grip, sleepily. Kate pushed Mitch’s shorts down and exposed him to the light. He was so aware of his size like that, the woman he loved sitting next to him while he was aroused but she watched another man stroke his own large organ.

  Kate put her hand back on him and started to stroke lightly again. She told Omar she could see he was getting harder and it made more semen flow from Mitch. Kate had to be aware, her pace quickening on him with the added lubrication.

  Omar was getting hard. The head of his cock engorged, the careless flopping replaced with a sexual rigidity. Mitch could feel Kate move her left hand down and between her legs. She was mashing her pyjama bottoms into herself and grinding her hips against her finger’s movement. He looked down at her chest heaving.

  Kate stretched her leg out down the couch and put her foot in Omar’s lap and then put her sole along his length.

  “You’re longer than my foot,” she said. She pushed it against his thigh with her sole, arching her toes, pressing them into it just below his glans. She rubbed at him clumsily, pulling back his wrinkled sleeve with her first two toes. Her pace had stopped on Mitch but she still held him. Mitch looked down at his narrow dick looking so small even in her girlish little hand.

  Omar took his up in his hand again and started to stroke himself while Kate watched. He asked her, “Do you want to watch me come?” Mitch felt her head nod.

  “Do you like it when a man comes a lot?”

  “I do.” Kate’s voice was quiet, maybe embarrassed. She seemed hypnotized watching his hand on his cock. “I take it as a compliment if he comes a lot. I like to get painted.” Even Omar was aroused by that. He started earnestly working his cock now, slowly still but with purpose. He was going to come for her.

  Painted? She had her own phrase for being come on. She liked being come on, she said. Mitch had never really come on her, he didn’t really produce much and it was rarely forceful at all. He didn’t make a big show about it when he came. Did she like that sort of thing? Mitch couldn’t believe she’d ever considered it.

  Kate sat up between them and pulled her shirt up over her head and her big breasts swung around at them. She laid back against the couch and flipped her ponytail back. She caressed her breasts gently now, pushing them together, her pink nipples tightened and erect.

  “I want you to come on me. I want to feel you both come all over me.”

  Omar stood up and pulled his shorts down, Mitch could see that his wife was looking at his cock swinging stiffly between his legs, hard but hanging downwards. It looked as big as Kate’s forearm. It was every guy’s nightmare. That this thing could exist, be experienced by a woman you love. He pulled his shirt off over his head.

  He stood confidently before them, fit, trim, masculine. He kneeled on the couch, one foot still on the floor. His cock looked enormous hanging next to her. He started to stroke it and she watched it, held out in front of her, over her chest. Mitch could see his balls swinging even though he was rock hard. Mitch brought himself up to kneel next to Kate too, stroking himself. His dick didn’t look much longer than his own fist, his balls pulled up tight
with arousal, barely even there. Kate put her hands between his legs and her fingernails gently scratched at his raisin-shrunk scrotum but she wasn’t looking at him. Kate was looking down at Omar’s long, thick cock, big even in his own masculine hand. Omar was working it, stroking the end half, a little twist, or flourish, to the end of each stroke. Kate’s hand came up and cradled his balls. They were big in her grip like two large hard-boiled eggs.

  Mitch jerked himself too, it was standing upright, pointing to the ceiling. He tried to look at this through Kate’s eyes. Another man’s impressive manhood presented to her, thick and heavy-veined, foreskin rolling up over the tip with each stroke. He thought about how she was turned on by it, this ugly scene. He tasted jealousy somewhere deep inside—how she didn’t even look at his held out for her.

  She pushed her chest out to them, an offering, a surface for them to show her their filth. He wanted to stop, hated himself that he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to see her defiled because she wanted it.

  “I want to see them together,” she said. She took both their organs in her hands and took over for them, jerking them, watching them. “Look at this monster,” she said, her Council accent creeping in. Her hand looked very small on Omar, her grip spread wide as she got closer to the base, her fingers couldn’t come together. Mitch’s not even twice as long as her fist. She squeezed them, pulled them in towards each other until the supple tips mushed into each other. She bit her lip as she held them, assessing them. Omar’s plump glans dwarfed him, three or four times bigger, and the sight of it, the revelation presented to his wife made him sick. Her lover and her husband, their ridiculous disparity, obvious for all three of them. Her expression, her lust for it, drove him crazy. This huge, impressive thing had been inside his wife; she had come from it.

  “Are you going to make this beautiful thing come for me?” She was gripping just the head of it now, running her fingers around it, squeezing it, sliding her thumb into the channel of his hole.