by Sean Geist
I was beside myself with joy, as I watched Phil's hands move along Lauren's back, down to rest on her lovely ass. I was overcome with emotions. All of them. A dizziness passed through me. My wife was in an intimate kiss with another man, and not for my enjoyment, but for her own. For all she knew, I was miles away having car troubles.
No, this kiss was a treat for herself.
And that made all the difference. Knowing that she was doing this for herself, seeking her own pleasure, tripled my own enjoyment.
This was a level I could never achieve through our flirting games. I felt the blood drain from my head as my penis became stiffer. I don't know if it was the music, the swirling lights or just the maelstrom in my mind, but the room started spinning and I reached for the wall to steady myself.
The light behind me turned on.
Fuck! I'd hit the light switch.
All eyes were on me, Lauren's, Phil's, Ann's.
I hit the switch again and the light went out, but not before the damage was done.
“Roger! You're here.”
Luckily for both my wife and myself, everyone's attention was on me and no one else seemed to notice her separate from her partner. No one but the three of us knew she had been making out on the dance floor with someone, not her husband. At least I hoped no one noticed.
I collected my composure as the two made their way toward me, dodging the people trying to get back to dancing.
I waved.
“Roger. How long have you been here?” Was she worried about how much I saw?
“Just got here.” The lie was for Phil, I didn't want to freak him out. “You going to introduce us?” I looked at her dance partner.
“Sorry. Phil, this is my husband, Roger.”
I extended my hand. Phil reluctantly shook it.
“Nice to meet you.” His tone gave away the lie of his own. I knew he wanted either himself or I to be far away from here, his preference being me.
“You been keeping my wife occupied while I was gone?” I savored rubbing his nose in it. She was my wife.
I saw Lauren roll her eyes. I don't think Phil noticed.
“Yeah. Yeah. We danced a little. Oh look at that, I need another drink.” Phil started to move away.
“Wait.” Lauren reached out and grabbed his hand. She leaned up to give him another kiss. This time on the cheek and this time for me.
She smiled and we shared a chuckle as Phil hurried up the stairs.
“Poor fella.”
“So whose Phil?”
“Just a co-worker.”
“And dance partner.”
“Just this once. How much did you see?”
“Enough.”
Lauren reached down and placed her hand on my still hard cock.
“Guess you did. How long?”
“About seven inches. Ouch.” She had given me a squeeze.
“How long have you been watching.”
I couldn't lie. “About half an hour, maybe a little longer.”
“Really.” Lauren did the calculations in her head. It didn't take long. “And the flat tire.”
I shook my head, no.
“You were testing me?”
I nodded.
“Seeing what I'd do if I was alone. Seeing if I'd be naughty.”
Lauren was stroking my cock, so I didn't think she was too upset.
“That's why you didn't answer my call. You knew I'd be mad. More susceptible to seduction.”
“I'll admit I didn't think that hard. I figured you'd get me to admit I was lying.”
“Well. Don't do it again. You know I don't like being surprised like that.”
“I can't help myself.” Oh, that was so true. I knew the difference between her playing for me and her playing for herself, and watching the later was much more thrilling than the former.
“Learn some damn self-control.”
By this time, Lauren had stopped stroking me and we started making our way back up to the main level.
We spent the next couple of hours mingling. I didn't know anyone except for Ann, our hosts, and of course, Phil, so I stuck close to my wife. I was introduced to around a dozen or so folks whose names I forgot a few minutes after we stopped shaking hands. We ate and drank and even danced to a few songs.
All through the evening we avoided Phil and Phil avoided us. Every time I'd saw him milling around he'd quickly head off in another direction as soon as he spotted me. I'm sure he thought I meant to do him violence. I really wanted to convince my wife to sleep with him; I didn't want to fuck him up, I wanted to get him fucked.
Most of the guests were gone by midnight, including Phil. There were two other couples who, along with my wife and I, had been invited to spend the night.
We helped gather up some of the trash, and stack the dishes in the kitchen before Betty insisted we leave the chores for her and showed us to our rooms, upstairs.
“That was fun.” I was sitting on the queen size bed, my legs stretched out, back against the headboard, clothed only in my black boxer shorts.
“Betty and Rick love to entertain. Can you help me with this?”
I got up and unzipped Lauren's dress. With a shrug and a shimmy of her hips it slid down her body to pool in a pile of glittery red and green.
“I think you and Phil weren't the only ones having an illicit hook up.”
My wife turned to face me. “What do you mean?”
“I saw a couple of used condoms in the trash while I was taking a leak earlier.”
“First, Phil and I weren't hooking up. We were dancing.”
“And kissing.”
“And secondly. Ewww. Why were you going through the trash?”
“They were on top. And I'm pretty sure you two were getting into some heavy petting.”
“In your dreams.” Lauren pushed me back on the bed.
I looked up at her. She was a vision – my Aphrodite – black curly hair framing her face, a stern yet playful look in her eyes, arms akimbo, hands resting on her sheer lacy red panties, her pert nipples hard as eraser tips. They looked so inviting, I wanted to attack them with my tongue.
“Eyes up, mister.”
“But. Your breasts.”
“Eyes up.”
I complied.
“What happened between Phil and I was nothing. A mistake.”
I was about to ask her which it was, nothing or a mistake. I opened my mouth to speak.
“No. Wait 'til I finish.”
I closed my mouth.
“A mistake.” Okay, was she reading my mind? “You and I, we've had fun, playing around with your voyeuristic fetish. You like watching me masturbating, that's fine. Sexy even. You like seeing me flirt with other guys. I don't understand it, but it gets you hard and we always have a good fuck afterwards and that works. But I'm doing it for you, not for me.”
“Phil wasn't for me.”
“A mistake. I was a little drunk. Confused. I was aroused by the music and I was mad at you for not being here to help me with that.
“You kissed him pretty hard. You really seemed to be enjoying it. I would have loved to see what would have happened if I hadn't run into that light switch.”
“Nothing.”
“I'm pretty sure Phil had other ideas.”
“Roger! Stop it. Yeah, Phil probably wanted to take me to bed.” No probably about it. “He's flirted with me before. Don't saying anything, let me finish. He flirted with me before. We laughed it off. I like Phil. I've got to work with him, which is gonna be pretty awkward now.”
Lauren was pacing the room as she explained to me how she never intended to sleep with her co-worker. I tried to pay attention to the words, but her beautiful, sexy, nearly naked body kept distracting me.
“I'm your wife, Roger. I take my vows seriously.”
“If I give permission.”
“I made those vows in public. In front of my family. My friends. God.”
“They don't matter Lauren. Only we matter.”
“Matters to me. Bottom line. Stop testing me. Stop pushing me. I'm not sleeping with another man as long as I'm married to you.”
The silence that followed slapped me in the face. The implied threat loomed like a dark cloud waiting to unleash her fury.
“Roger, I love you. Only you.” As she spoke, my wife knelt on the floor in front of me. “You make me happy. Sex with you is so fulfilling.”
She pulled at the waistband of my boxers. I lifted my ass so she could pull them off.
“I'd never jeopardize what we have. I'm willing to do so much with you.”
My wife licked up the underside of my engorged shaft. I fell back on the bed again and closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling of her mouth on my cock. Licking and sucking.
“Oh god.” She had engulfed my member. So deep, I could feel the tip of her nose touching my pubic hair. She slowly pulled her mouth off my cock.
“You like that?”
“Fuck, yeah.”
“Good.”
She went back to worshiping my erection, stroking the shaft with her hands, kissing and twirling her tongue around the sensitive crown.
I was in sensual heaven. Lost in the pleasure. Nerves firing. My balls started to tingle.
“I'm close.”
“Guhd,” she said, her mouth full of my cock. Lauren rarely gave me head. Lauren never let me cum in her mouth.
I could feel the wave of my impending climax approach. I shook my head left and right.
“That feels so good. Lauren.”
“Mmm Hmm.”
Didn't know what she meant, didn't care.
My wife kept bobbing her head, her lips sliding up and down my cock with a frenzy I had not experienced before. She was not going to stop until I came.
I opened my eyes and looked off to the left, into a fortuitously placed mirror. Now I was watching my wife blow me. My mind translated that into watching my wife blow a guy who looked like me. I was viewing and receiving. My fetish and reality melded into a new thing.
With a deep grunt I thrust my hips up, deep into Lauren's mouth, and erupted. My cock pulsed, firing rope after rope of my cum down her throat.
Lauren never gave up. She kept right on sucking until she was satisfied she got every last drop of semen.
“God you came a lot.”
“You're a great cocksucker.”
“Thank you.”
I was sure some of the strength of my release was due to watching her work, but I didn't mention that.
Lauren moved up the bed, climbing over my body on all fours. She rubbed her tits across my now deflated penis as she moved. When we were face to face, her body mashed against mine, she kissed me. I opened my mouth to accept her tongue. She fed me a little of my own cum. It was tacky and salty, but not unpleasant.
She whispered into my ear. “Imagine, it's another guy you're tasting.”
“But?”
“Nothing wrong with a little fantasy.” Lauren smiled. I kissed her again and we spent the next half hour making love together. I didn't come again, but she did. Twice, I'm proud to say.
Later, we lay in bed, her asleep, me, eyes wide open, thinking back on the evening. I glanced over at the mirror. A devious plan took root in the fertile soul of my imagination. A plan that would bear, oh so sweet yet oh so bitter fruit.
Chapter Five
A couple of months later, I was thirty thousand feet in the air reading a Costa Rican travel guide I had checked out from the library. Lauren was resting her head on my shoulder; her day had started early. I glanced out the window entranced by the green canopy of the rainforest below us.
In a few hours we'd be lounging by the pool at our resort, sipping on mai-tais and piña coladas, working on our tans. Relaxing.
Pura Vida, as the locals say. I read that in the travel book.
There was another facet of our trip I was anticipating with arousal and trepidation. A surprise I had planned for Lauren and myself. One that would finally lead to my fantasy being fulfilled. The preparation had been costly and time consuming, but I was sure, in the end, it would be worth every ounce of effort. I prayed my wife would feel the same.
We landed in Liberia without incident. I had pre-booked a taxi to our resort, so we were able to quickly move through the gauntlet of drivers clamoring for our business on the walk to the exit. Our driver was patiently waiting outside near his car. Our flight was an hour and a half late and I was very glad to see him; he'd be getting a double tip from me.
The warm muggy air caught me by surprise. I noticed the beads of sweat forming on Lauren's brow. My eyes watched one drop trickle slowly down the bridge of her nose and fall, oh so gracefully, onto the top of her left breast, exposed by the wide v-neck purple top she wore. From there it slid down into the depths of her cleavage.
“Señor?”
“Huh?”
Lauren and our driver – Manuel, I would later learn – laughed.
“Sorry. I was—”
“Elsewhere. I know. You're distracted.” Manuel had already gathered our bags and stowed them away in the trunk of his red Camry.
“The Grand Papagayo. You know of it?”
“Si. Beautiful place. You'll love it.”
After a thirty minute drive past rice fields and forests and the occasional roadside marketplace, we arrived at our destination.
Manuel was correct. The place was beautiful.
The main building, housing the front desk, two restaurants and three different themed bars, stood at the top of a steep hill. Down a long flight of stairs lay the resort's pool, rec center and another restaurant. Past the trees, we were told, sat private villas and another smaller bar that could service guests on their way to and from the beach that lay a little bit further down the path.
While we were checking in I heard a great scream coming from somewhere in the trees next to the pool. I immediately thought someone was slaughtering a herd of wild boars.
“What the?”
The desk clerk smiled. “That's the monkeys. Howlers. About a dozen of them live in the trees between here and the ocean. They sometimes have guests of their own.”
“How charming.”
“Señora is correct. We have the howlers, many lizards and many many birds living on the grounds.”
“Will they bother us?”
“Not to worry, Señor. They're mostly harmless. We just ask you not to feed them.”
We thanked the clerk, gathered our keys and followed the bellman to our room.
Jose led us down a paved path. We walked round a huge Guanacaste tree, over a hundred feet tall, the national tree we were told. After that, past two neatly trimmed hedges to our building. Our room was on the third level, the highest.
We'd booked a one bedroom suite. The main sitting room had a nice long couch facing a flat screen TV on the wall. A small kitchenette nestled in the corner, just to the left of the entrance.
Jose brought our bags in and set them down in the bedroom. He pointed out the hot tub in the bathroom, how it easily fit two people. He explained how the A/C worked and the lock off door that separated our suite from the studio next door.
“Look at that view.”
Jose and I turned to see Lauren standing at the window. Her wonderful curves, silhouetted against the bright sun light pouring in. I glanced over at the bellman. He was smiling, until he noticed I was looking at him, then his face went all serious.
“A stunning view.” I said. I couldn't help but chuckle.
Jose started to apologize in Spanish.
“No Problemo.” I whispered, in my butchered accent. “Entiendo.” I think I told him I understood. I placed a twenty dollar bill into his palm. Before he left, he told me if I needed anything we should make sure to ask for him.
I closed the door behind him and went over to join my wife at the window.
The view was perfect, looking down at the pool below us, palm trees spaced around for shade. Further off, the Pacific Ocean.
I wrapped
my arms around Lauren.
“Can we stay forever?” She leaned her head into my shoulders as she spoke the words that had been swimming in my head.
“If I win the lottery. Or have a rich uncle I don't know about.”
My wife sighed.
***
Later that evening, we took a sunset walk away from the resort.
We strode hand in hand behind our guide, Esteban; Steven in another life before his family immigrated from Canada when he was eight years old.
Esteban was chatting in Spanish with another couple. I could make out bits of the conversation. They were from Spain. Here on their honeymoon, I think.
Our guide led us up a road that lay next to our resort, but outside the fence. After a few dips and curves, we came to a small security guard hut. Our guide waved at the young man who came out to greet us. A whiff of sweet marijuana smoke assaulted us as he opened the door.
Our guide and the guard – I think – exchanged a few words. They spoke much too fast for me to understand. With a nod and a wave he let us pass.
We were on private property now. No buildings could be seen. Just the road and the occasional empty concrete slab and the forest trying to reclaim the land.
Esteban explained to the four of us, effortlessly switching between Spanish and English, that the owners of the land were planning to build a new resort on the remains of a much older one, just as soon has the financing came through.
“And the guard shack?”
“Oh, they keep the squatters out.”
Lauren asked if pot was legal in Costa Rica.
Our guide laughed. “Not legal. Overlooked.”
“You looking to get high.” I asked.
My wife elbowed me in the ribs.
I knew she smoked a little in college, as had I. Since then, alcohol had become our drug of choice.
Esteban cautioned that if we did score any weed, we should be cool about it.
About fifteen minutes after leaving the resort grounds, we arrived at the top of a high cliff. Below us, the ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore. Off to the west, the sun, now a blazing ball of orange fire, had started its decent into the Pacific. The horizon quickly passed through all the shades of the rainbow: orange, red, green, violet.
