Authors: Ben Boswell
“Let me see you,” I said as I reached out to lift her to her feet.
I was turned on, certainly, but not fully aroused. I realized that I had emotionally distanced myself from what was happening. That was surely the reason for embracing the role of director. I was afraid of what might happen if I let myself get too excited or too jealous for that matter.
I turned her around so that she was facing me, her ass in Trent’s face. I reached down and ran my hand over her lower abdomen, across the smooth, silky, newly-bare skin, and down into her sticky, swollen snatch. Fucking Trent. He’d been the first man to fuck her since our wedding and was now going to get dibs on her shaved twat. Life was definitely not fair.
I pushed her toward him. He reached out and grabbed her hips to guide her into his lap. Her eyes were glued to mine as she slowly lowered herself onto him. Her eyelids fluttered as he entered her, and once she’d settled down on his cock, a look of pure bliss came across her face. We’d found a use for that “more than a mouthful” after all.
“Make him come,” I ordered.
She nodded and began riding him. Feet on the ground, she rose and fell on his fat prick, slowly at first, but faster and faster. I sat back down in my armchair and watched. I had a perfect view. With her legs spread and her pussy shaved, there was nothing in the way. It was weirdly hypnotic seeing his cock spearing over and over into my wife’s snatch. Even though she was very wet, I could see it was a tight fit, her labia clinging to his shaft each time she rose up.
I had sort of hoped that she’d be able to make him come on her own, without him taking control. But it was not to be. After just a couple of minutes, she was gasping and groaning, her face red, eyes glassy. He’d been cooperating, just resting his hands on her hips, helping guide her, but he knew she was his. He moved his hand up, across her belly and cupped her breast, letting her hard nipple slide between his fingertips. He moved his other hand across her abdomen and down toward her slit. When he touched her clit, she let out a feral growl. She gasped and shook, and he thrust upward into her just to make sure there was no turning back. Her eyes rolled into her head as she came hard, then collapsed, supine, in his lap, leaning back against his strong body as he tenderly kissed her neck.
He churned his cock slowly into her, his hands continuing to roam over her body. He was handling her more firmly now, gradually taking control. He looked at me and inclined his head.
May I?
I nodded in response. “I still want to see her face.”
He pulled her back onto the bed and positioned her on her hands and knees, facing me. He moved behind her and grabbed her hips, holding her in place. Then he entered her again with one long, hard stroke. Claire’s eyes went wide and she gasped. Then as he pulled out slowly, slowly, she let out a long, low sigh. She gave me a small, reassuring smile as if to say that whatever was happening, she would still always be mine.
But I knew better. I’d seen him do this to Elsa, so I knew what was coming next. Another hard, powerful thrust. She gasped again, louder this time. Again and again. He paused for a moment, and she gasped for breath.
“Oh God,” she sighed as he resumed his pounding. She dropped her head as if it was too much effort to look at me while also accommodating him. Trent grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked back.
“Look at him, darling,” he ordered.
She lifted her eyes to me and tried to focus, but he was now hammering her roughly, so roughly that her eyes seemed to glaze and I knew she was concentrating on nothing other than his big prick invading her over and over. She was grunting louder now, her staccato exclamations alternating with the sound of slapping flesh.
He paused again. I looked up at him. He gave me what I imagined he thought was a friendly smile, but he couldn’t disguise his real sentiment.
Watch how a real man fucks your woman.
Or maybe that was just my insecurities talking.
He held up his other hand. “Can I put my thumb in your wife’s bum?”
Who doesn’t like an occasional finger in the butt?
I nodded affirmatively.
He slid his fat cock from her pussy, eliciting a heartbreaking sigh. Then he ran his thumb up and down her wet slit until it was well coated. With firm pressure, he pushed his thumb into her ass. Her sensuous moan turning to a high-pitched squeal as he hammered his cock back into her.
And now I knew she was completely lost to me, at least for now. She closed her eyes and I let her, content to see her face contorting with pleasure as he used her. Her squeals got louder and higher. She was loud enough that I knew people could hear from through the open balcony door, but I didn’t care. Seeing her so lost in passion was weirdly beautiful.
When she came it was with a low, vaguely anticlimactic moan. She seemed to collapse, not all at once, but slowly, as if her bones were progressively turning to putty. She ended up face down, flat on the bed. He followed her down, sliding his thumb from her ass and seizing her upper arms. He continued to fuck her forcefully, almost as if he were trying to drive her straight through the mattress.
And then, when he’d possessed her completely, when all that was left was a docile repository for his invading member, only then did he come, filling her with his seed. When he finished, he rolled off her and lay face up on the bed, gasping as well.
“Blimey, that was fucking brilliant,” he sighed, as much to himself as anyone else.
Claire slowly roused herself and looked up at me. She was sweaty and red-faced, but smiling and obviously happy. She crawled off the bed and crouched down beside me while Trent excused himself to go to the bathroom.
“You okay? Did you have fun?” she asked.
I chuckled. “I know you did.”
“You didn’t answer me,” she insisted.
“I did. And I’m glad you did too.”
She smiled.
“I think I’ve had enough, though,” I added.
Her face fell. “Oh, okay.”
I laughed. “God Claire, he does turn you into a nympho, doesn’t he?”
She looked away.
“It’s okay,” I continued. “It sort of turns me on. Anyway, just because I’ve had enough doesn’t mean you can’t –“
“Oh no, John, I couldn’t.”
“You’re not really going to make me talk you into it, are you?” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun.”
I stood and started toward the door. I ran into Trent exiting the bathroom.
“I’m gonna head out. You two have fun.”
“Ah, smashing. Then you don’t mind if we continue?”
“Go for it.”
“No rules then?”
I shook my head.
“I’d really like to sodomize her if you don’t mind.”
I suppressed a shudder. I didn’t want that, but I also didn’t want to let him see that he’d gotten to me by asking. “Anything you two agree on is fine with me.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, “you’re aces, mate.”
I shook my head and laughed. Another step in my journey to the surreal. I edged past him and left the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I made my way back down to the lobby bar. I just wanted a quiet place to relax. Happily it was empty except for the bored-looking barkeep. I ordered a double Bourbon and sipped it slowly.
I had protected Janelle’s honor by sacrificing my wife’s, not that Claire’s honor was worth much, tarnished as it already was by her previous time with Trent. That was a dark way to look at it. No, I had protected Janelle and given both my wife and her lover a good time. The only person making sacrifices was me. Yes, I was just being noble all around.
No, that wasn’t quite it either. I hadn’t done it for anyone but myself, to spare myself the discomfort of seeing Trent corrupt my vision of innocent beauty and femininity. And anyway, as queasy as it was to watch it, and even more so to think about what they might get up to without me there, I had gotten a kick out of it. It had been a rush to order them around, to see Claire climax, to see him wear her out.
I wondered what they were up now that I had left. Actually, I didn’t have to wonder. I knew what Trent wanted. His thumb had just been an experiment. Having gotten away with that, he was going to try to get his fat dick in her ass. Would her accommodating nature overcome her dislike of anal sex? I figured it was about fifty-fifty.
“So what’s the deal with you and your wife?”
I looked over to see Annabelle sitting next to me.
“Oh hi. Didn’t see you come in.”
She gave me a curious look. “So?”
“Nothing. What? She’s napping, and I’m having a drink.”
She laughed. “Fuck, you’re a terrible liar. Anyway, I saw the three of you leave the pool arm in arm. I’m guess she’s still upstairs fucking the Brit, right? So what’s the deal?”
“Look, Anna –“
“Just call me Abs, ‘k? And buy me a drink.”
“Only if you get a real drink and not one of those fucking fruity cocktails.” I waved for the barkeep.
She laughed, then turned to him. “Vodka tonic.”
“Make it a double,” I added.
“You trying to get me drunk?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “You could drink me under the table.”
Her drink arrived and she clinked her glass against mine. “Damn straight.”
She was in flip-flops and khaki shorts, her thin, white shirt was open to her navel, exposing her neon orange bikini top and generous cleavage. She was smiling, which made her much more attractive than she’d been when I first noticed her, sneering at her stepmom.
“So what’s the deal? You guys like swingers or something?”
I nodded. “I dunno. Maybe we are now. We didn’t used to be. I’m not even sure how any of this happened.”
“So she is upstairs fucking Trent?”
I nodded.
“Why aren’t you up there double-teaming her?”
I shrugged. Why wasn’t I? Because in a weird way that felt wrong and disrespectful to Claire. But I couldn’t think of the words to express that sentiment.
“Damn, Claire is a nasty little whore, isn’t she?” She obviously meant it as a compliment of sorts.
“Did you watch them at least?”
I nodded.
“Shit, I bet that was hot,” she sighed.
“I guess.”
“So how’d you guys go from not being swingers to you walking your wife and her fuck buddy back to your room and watching them go at it?”
I thought back to all the explanations and interpretations that had been going through my head for the past few days. They were all long, involved, and really probably didn’t make a lot of sense.
“There’s something in the water?”
“Ah, minimization with humor.”
“You a psyche major?”
She laughed. “Not quite. But I’ve seen enough six-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapists to earn an honorary degree.”
“What for?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because I’m a drunken slut, haven’t you noticed?”
“I don’t think –“
“Look, John, don’t bullshit me. I know what I am. Thing is, what everyone thinks is a problem, I just think is fun. That’s why therapy doesn’t work on me. They keep trying to explain why I’m ‘acting out’ or ‘out of control,’ but I’m not. I like to drink and I like to fuck. And yeah, sometimes I drink too much and sometimes I fuck the wrong guys. It comes with the territory.”
“People are just probably worried about you –“
She laughed. “Damn, you’re a strange guy. Your wife is upstairs getting her brains fucked out by the biggest cock she’s ever seen – she told me that, you know. And here I am telling you I like to get drunk and have sex, and you’re getting all protective on me? You’re never going to get in my pants with that approach.”
“I didn’t know I was trying… “ I trailed off as I noticed Dale walk into the bar. “Hold that thought,” I said as I stalked over to him.
The big doofus was the color of a cooked lobster.
“Forgot your sunscreen?” I asked.
He nodded sheepishly. “Oh hi, sir. Yes, yes I did. Went deep sea fishing today, you know and didn’t realize…”
I tuned him out for a moment as I contemplated that. The big dummy had gone off on a daylong fishing trip and left his wife alone, and my now
my
wife was upstairs, probably getting her ass fucked, as a result.
“Do you even like fishing?”
I think he blushed, though with his sunburn it was hard to tell. “To tell you the truth mister, it was mostly just a chance to get away from Janelle and get a little rest. I was talking to this nice man and he suggested –“
“English guy?”
Dale nodded. “Yeah, is he like the fishing promoter or something? Guys on the boat didn’t know who I was talking about.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Dale, you’re not going to make this work by running away, even for a day trip. Remember what I said about communicating? You stay close to your wife, okay?”
He nodded. “I know, it’s just…”
“Dale, I understand. I remember what you told me. But just be open-minded and responsive, you know? It’ll all work out.”
I took him by the arm and shoved him out the door of the bar. If I had anything to do with it, he was going to learn to please Janelle. But he’d already spent too much time apart from her today.
I returned to Annabelle. She was looking at me like I had three heads. She’d also ordered us another round.
“What was that?”
“He needs some marriage counseling.”
“From you?” Annabelle snorted.
“Just because my wife is upstairs having sex with another man… again, does not mean I don’t have good advice to give.”
“Poor kid.”
I wanted to change the subject. “So what’s with you and the hotel staff?”
She shrugged. “Young, hot, and available?” Then she broke into a wicked smile. “Plus, it does give me a weird rush to fuck a guy on my dad’s payroll, even indirectly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, no way you need therapy. You’re healthy as can be.”
“You know what they say about crazy girls in bed?” she asked, seductively.
“Oh, I don’t doubt you’re a little wildcat.”
She smirked proudly.
“But I think I’m gonna have to pass.”
She put on an exaggerated pout. “You sure? This offer won’t come around again… or maybe it will. Depends who I run into tonight.”
I laughed. “Thanks Abs. I appreciate it.” I didn’t necessarily mean the offer itself, though I knew that it would be grist for many fantasies over the coming years. I meant more the sentiment behind it. Her callow façade was just that, a mask to hide her emotional turmoil and insecurities. Or maybe not. Maybe she did just like to fuck.
I looked at my phone. No message from Claire. It was now almost eight. I’d left the room almost four hours ago. They’d surely be done, wouldn’t they? I didn’t want to check. It would be too weird to poke my head in, see them still going at it, and then duck away. Better to just wait for a message. I decided to grab some dinner.
I went to a Polynesian-themed restaurant at the resort. It really didn’t work. They didn’t have the guts to commit to a full-blown 1950s-style Tiki, so the décor was mostly modern with just a few kitchy touches thrown in. I sat in a booth, by myself, staring at a fearsome mask on the wall, sipping a Mai Tai and working my way through an updated version of a Pu Pu platter, sadly lacking in fried tidbits.
The hostess seated a couple at the booth behind me. The dividers were pretty high, but the couple had apparently retreated to the recesses of the booth to chat, putting them just inches from me. I wasn’t particularly looking to listen in, but I was bored and by myself.
It took me a few moments to realize it was two women. The first had a husky, androgynous voice, the second the clear, flat tones of a California girl. They were giggling and speaking in hushed tones, clearly lovers sharing a meal, dishing about the other patrons, enjoying themselves.
I wasn’t playing close attention until the husky voiced woman, said, “Okay. So Kitten, you’ve had enough time to think about it. What about Trent?”
“Oh come on Betty, it was all in good fun. It wasn’t a serious idea.”
“Why not? You’ve always said that your biggest worry about getting married was not getting that.”
Kitten sighed. “I know. But I sort of meant that in the past. It’s blown up some past relationships. But I can be good. I wouldn’t have said yes to getting married if I didn’t think I could.”
“I saw the way you looked at him. Like a kitten looking at a mouse.”
“I think I was the mouse and he was a full-grown barn cat with lots of experience hunting mice.”
Betty laughed. “So much the better. He doesn’t look like the sort who’s going to get all clingy.”
“Oh, that I can tell. Half-way through being with me, he’d be already thinking of his next conquest.”
“Perfect vacation fling.”
“Yeah, if I was single. And if this wasn’t our fucking honeymoon.”
“I sort of think it would be hot.”
Kitten laughed. “Since when do you get the hots for dudes, Miss Gold Star?”
“I don’t. But I just think it would be sexy to see my little Kitten getting her oh-so-tasty pussy stuffed.”
I couldn’t help myself. I peered cautiously over the divider to confirm that these were my Lesbians. I sat back down.
Kitten moaned softly. “No, don’t, baby. Not in public.”
“Don’t worry, no one can see. I just want to remember how tight you are before that nasty man rams his big thing into you.”
Kitten giggled. “Thing? God, you are such a dyke. At least call it a prick or a cock.”
“I’m going to text him.”
“No, don’t,” Kitten moaned, unconvincingly.
“Dear Trent, Kelly would love to get together. Tonight? I’m pressing send.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And now we wait.”
“If you don’t stop now, I’m going to shove you under the table to finish the job,” Kelly groaned.
Betty laughed. “It’s not my fault you’re such a juicy, little slut. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“You’re a pervert.”
Their food arrived and I heard them straighten up with a giggle. They must have been putting on quite a show. When the waiter left they resumed their conversation.
“No response,” Betty said, disappointed.
“He’s probably with another girl.”
I stifled a laugh. Well, they certainly had his number. It also brought home the fact that he was still with my wife and probably fucking her as we sat there. I looked at my watch. Almost seven hours since we’d first gotten into our hotel room. It was hard to believe either of them was still going, much less both of them. But Trent didn’t seem like the kind of man to ignore an assignation, and anyway Claire hadn’t texted me either so the implication seemed pretty unavoidable.
They went on to other topics and I gradually lost interest in their conversation. I looked around the restaurant, hoping for some other interesting watching opportunities. I’d have loved to see the redhead from the grotto, ideally in a low-cut evening number, but she was nowhere to be seen.
I finished picking at my dinner and drained my drink. I got the check and was getting ready to leave, when I heard another round of giggles from behind me. I pressed myself back into the booth and tried to tune in their conversation.
“…tied up tonight, but would like to buy us both dinner tomorrow,” Betty said. “Looks like we have a date.”
“We can still cancel.”
“Sure, but why would we?”
“I can’t believe you’re into this.”
“Anything for my Kitten.”
“Somehow I think I’m doing this more for you.”
I shook my head, amused. Hadn’t Claire said exactly the same thing to me? Had I come off as insistent as Betty was?
Kelly continued, “You sure you’re not getting a little curious yourself?”
Betty fake-retched. “Nah uh, Kitten, I’m just an observer in all this, though if he needs help getting your little pussy ready, I might be willing to lend a hand.”
Kitten laughed. “And of course, when it is all done, you’ll expect me to show you my gratitude.”
“Of course.”
They giggled and kissed, their voices now even quieter and throatier. I would have loved to see what they were up to, but somehow listening in seemed a greater violation of their privacy. I checked my bill, signed it to my room, and got up to leave, but not before casting a quick glance at the Lesbians, locked in a passionate embrace.
I roamed the resort, enjoying the beautiful Hawaiian evening and my own buzz. I should be walking hand-in-hand with my wife. Instead, she was getting fucked by the resort stud. I shook my head. This one was on me. I had to own it and stop feeling sorry for myself.
I wondered about Trent. The guy was relentless. Like a shark has to keep moving to breathe, Trent seemed to need to fuck to live. He’d already had Claire and Elsa, he had a rendezvous planned with Kitten tomorrow, and he’d have probably nailed Janelle if we hadn’t intervened. Abs had been ready to screw him. And those were just the women I knew about. Who knew how many other women, married and unmarried, had spread their legs for him already? Annabelle notwithstanding, he seemed to have a real knack for making married women forsake their wedding vows. He was a special breed, a Cuckoo Shark.
Was this just a hobby for him? Something he did on vacation? Or was there some sort of financial angle? Was he looking to be a kept man? No. That didn’t make sense. He wasn’t going after older, more established women. All of his conquests were instead most notable for their physical beauty. I had to conclude he was just a horndog who liked to bed attractive women, though undeniably he considered a wedding ring an additional appeal. Still, he was also some sort of conman. His moves were too smooth, too calculated.