A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance (12 page)

I longed to reach inside my shorts, find my aching member and start stroking myself at the sight. It would have involved too many zippers, though, and too much rustling in my chair. I was forced to sit and watch, only able to squeeze myself through the fabric of my trunks.

He lifted his mouth from her body. It made her eyes open. She looked up at him. Then both of them looked at me. "Still cool, boss?" he asked.

I couldn't even bring myself to say a word. I was almost completely paralyzed. All I could do was nod, a hurried, urgent little nod that meant, "Yes! Now get back to work!"

They found it funny, too. She burst into giggles, he into a slow, rolling chuckle that filled the room.

"Come on," he said, one their merriment died down. "There's another chair in the room. We'll all be more comfortable there."

Before I could bring myself to rise, I watched him stand, lean over her and swoop her up. It took my breath away, how easy it was for him to lift her. She wasn't limp in his arms, but almost. Her body draped across his trunk-like limbs. Her dainty, alabaster arms wrapped around his neck and she let herself be carried to his bed.

I fought to get up from the chair. I'd sunk in so deep it took some effort. When I finally managed it, they were already inside. I scrambled in after them. I didn't want to miss a single thing he was going to do to my wife.

As I settled into the chair he'd told me about, in the corner of the room, I watched him lay her on the bed. Her body formed a perfect shape, legs bent slightly, one thigh slicing through the open slit of the dress. He pulled his shirt off. Good God, what muscles flexed, muscles I'd never seen on a man.

Samantha's eyes went wide at the sight of his tight, dark chest. Her body rose, as if pulled up and off the covers at the sight of his ripped frame. He stepped forward and pulled her up further, helping her to stand. His hands settled on her shoulders, then travelled down her arms. He leaned in, kissed her lightly. His fingers pulled at the tight fabric of her dress. She seemed to understand what he wanted right away.

I watched in a beautifully terrified silence as he peeled away the thin layer of fabric and brought it up over her hands. My cock lurched. My heart thundered. There she was, completely nude, as the black mass of his body towered over her tiny frame.

His hands moved more quickly now. I could sense the excitement in his motions. He pinched the swollen pink bud of her nipple, first one, then the other. Her body curved to one side at his painful touch. Then, my perfect, white rose, sank to her knees in front of her new master. Her fingers pulled at his belt.

Watching those petite hands pull down the trousers he was wearing, then the briefs, was nothing compared to what I saw next.

She'd been looking up into his eyes. That almost made me more uncomfortable than anything else had yet. Their bodies pressed together was one thing, but the way their eyes met and stayed locked in a gaze was quite another. Jealousy flashed through me, followed quickly by more lust. My cock flexed. This time, I couldn't resist, but pulled it out.

I worried for a moment that the motion might distract them. What if my awkward, bumbling undressing tore them from the moment, made them laugh again? What if my own need ruined that perfect moment? I had nothing to worry about. They didn't notice a thing. Soon, I was sitting with my cock in hand, pressing on it lightly so as not to excite myself too much.

Then, my delicate Samantha, dropped her gaze from his eyes, down his thick, dark torso and looked upon the flesh between his legs. It drew my eyes there too. My heart raced even faster. He was a thick man, and well hung. A stud, built for breeding and a woman's pleasure.

The thought sliced through me with a razor sharpness. We hadn't talked about it at all. Surely, she'd put in the diaphragm. Surely, she wouldn't do something like this if she hadn't. That would just be too big a risk. Even though the doctor we'd been seeing hadn't mentioned that it might be a problem with my seed, there was no way to know for sure. She might have had a fertile womb and a husband who couldn't fill it well.

I dismissed the thought. Samantha may have changed somewhat, but she wouldn't imperil us that way. I just knew she wouldn't. I just knew it.

As her eyes settled on his manhood, they went wide, like I'd never seen them go before. The question, the same one dancing now in my mind, was painted all across her face. Could she take this much man? She wasn't tiny, but she was petite. Her little, pink cunt was tight enough that I could feel her squeezing me every time I entered her. I wondered what would happen if this man that looked like a giant next to her, tried to move himself inside my wife.

The pause was only momentary. Before I could even believe what I was seeing, she was holding his cock, staring at it the way she'd stared at mine. He was looking down at her, his hands at his sides, his muscles tight with anticipation. She shook herself from the stupor, and looked back into his eyes.

She raised that dark meat until the tip of it was at her lips. I saw him flex. Her body seemed to ripple with delight at his reaction. Still staring up at him, she pushed her little pink tongue out, placed him on it, and let him glide inside her mouth.

He groaned. It was a low and rumbling groan. A groan that betrayed just how good the inside of my pretty little wife's mouth felt against his growing size. I watched her nipples harden at the sound and her body rose to accommodate his swelling shaft. She sucked, then I watched her tongue playing along the underside of his cock inside her mouth. When he was fully stiff, she sank even further onto his length.

I couldn't help but stroke myself a little harder. I couldn't help but squeeze my own rigid cock. I didn't want to come this early, but my body wouldn't let me stop.

I felt my eyes widening at the sight of what she was doing. Until just a few days ago, she'd been my perfect little Samantha. Perfectly demure. Perfectly shy. Perfectly prudish. Something had changed her. Over the last few days she'd changed into my perfect little whore. Now I was seeing her as someone else's. Now she was Bastian's little slut.

Her expression seemed so eager as she rode his cock with her mouth. Her eyes seemed to betray how desperately she wanted to please him. It ruffled me a bit. I almost softened. Until, still pressing him inside her face, she turned and looked at me. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, my wife with that big, black cock stuffed inside her mouth. My cock stood back at full attention, right away.

He let her suck on him like that for a while longer. I watched his hips buck a few times, pushing his girth deeper inside her. But she could only take about half of him and I was happy she wasn't going to do to him what she'd done to me. Not that I would have stopped it, I'm not sure what I would have done. Somehow, it felt like it would ruffle me even more than the way she'd looked at him had.

He put his fingers on her chin and pulled her off gently. I watched her ripe breasts heaving at what was coming next. Again the thought that maybe I should have asked her, maybe I should have confirmed that she'd put the diaphragm in, raced through my mind. For fuck's sake, why was the idea that she hadn't making me even stiffer than I already was?

I thought that was the moment. I thought he was going to lift her up, lift my little Samantha up and lay her on the bed again and press himself inside. He had other ideas.

He did lift her up. He did put her on the bed, right at the edge of it. But he didn't crawl onto her like I thought he would. He turned her gently onto her stomach, then pulled her hips up so her ass was in the air.

I saw her head shoot back, her eyes wide and wondering what was going to happen. There it was. Above her soaked pussy, there was her perfectly tight, perfectly puckered little hole.

I think I'd maybe seen it twice in passing. I'd never dared to ask her if I could go there, certain she would have said no. Now I wasn't so sure.

He didn't ask for permission. He obviously knew himself to be the kind of man who didn't have to. His hand swung between her legs, pressing against the inside of her thigh. He spread her a little. The damp little slit between her legs, revealing just how much wetness was there. She was soaked. She was soaked just from sucking on his big, black cock.

His fingers moved up and against that wet place. She shuddered, moaned, then reared back onto his hand. I had to let myself go, my cock bouncing back and forth, threatening to explode if I kept myself in hand.

He started moving slowly at first. Just caressing that soft pussy that until then I'd called my own. Once again I wondered if it was the wine, the sea air or this strangers attention that had completely stripped Samantha of her inhibitions?

Her body pulsed with each sweep of his fingers. She swayed back and forth, moaning gentle moans into the pillow. Every once in a while, she'd try to look back, try to see what it looked like, this thing that was making her feel so good. Every time, though, she succumbed to the feeling, buried her face in the pillow and resumed her moans.

He stroked himself slowly, as he worked her up into a perfect state of tension. I watched her juices running down her thighs. What a waste. God, how I wanted a taste of that sweet nectar. Just when I thought she was going to come, he slowed, then stopped completely.

She mewled her protest from the pillow, her body pressing back onto his hand again. He had other things in mind. He lowered his lips towards her. Kissed her on one cheek first, then the next.Then, without a word of warning, he sank his mouth onto her puckered hole, shoving two thick, black fingers into her cunt at the same time.

She gasped, her fingers pulling at the sheets. His mouth began to move. I stared, stupefied. He was eating her ass. This big, black stranger was eating my wife's ass. Her body burst into fucking.

She sounded like she was crying now, as he drove his fingers up into her slit. His mouth moved on her tight, back hole the way it had on her mouth. A greedy, eager kiss that made it seem like he needed to find the true taste of her. She was shoving herself against him now. Pushing back against the bed, as if she needed more of him inside her. He obliged. Not just with his fingers. I watched the stiff tip of his tongue disappear into the darkness of her insides as I heard her cry in joy.

That was it. That was all she could take. With trembling thighs, she succumbed to his affection and the orgasm he'd coaxed to life inside her. With his tongue still in her hole, I watched her pussy clenching around his hand. She screamed. I wrapped my hand again around my cock.

He didn't let her come down off that high easily. Still fucking her with his fingers, he ate her rear hole with his mouth until they were both slathered in each other's wetness. Finally, I saw her pulling away and with a few more strokes, he relented and let her slip off of him.

I watched his dark frame hovering over the trembling mess of flesh he'd turned Samantha into. I realized how aroused it made me, seeing him weaken her completely that way.

For a moment I wondered if he was going to do the unthinkable. Would she let him? I'd never gone there. I'd never even touched that beautiful, tight ass hole. It was a strange relief, watching him spread her legs and sink down onto her, then press the head of his cock against her cunt.

The relief was short-lived though. As soon as he slid his tip inside her, I watched a tension fill her body again. God, it looked like just the tip of him had spread her wider than I'd ever spread her with my cock. Had that been what she'd been used to? Before we married? Had that been the size she'd come to expect?

She moaned loudly as he spread her cheeks apart, opening her pink folds and easing himself in and out of her slowly, collecting her wetness on his cock. The whole time he was staring at that beautiful forbidden hole, the one he'd tasted. I could tell he wanted to sink into that flesh. It made me rage and stiffen in my hand.

When he'd gotten her good and worked up, once she was writhing beneath him and ready for it, her body begging for his mass, he gave her what she wanted. Holding her open with two thumbs, he thrust forward, driving himself inside.

Seeing him plunge into her was one thing.
Hearing
the noise that black cock made as it pressed into my wife was quite another. It seemed to float above the sound of her moans as he stretched her open to accommodate his size. It coursed around the room, straining, wet sound of his thick, black muscle forcing itself towards her womb.

I felt the now familiar thrill of wondering if she'd re-inserted her birth control, or if her fertility was exposed to his seed. I could only imagine how much sperm a man that size produced. The thought of it filling my wife, surging into her insides, made me cringe and throb at the same time. I trusted her. I had to. She had to have put it in.

He was rocking into her now, standing one foot on the floor, the other perched on the edge of the bed. I had the perfect view of his low-hanging, dark sack slapping against her tiny pink clit. I wondered if he'd done this for anyone before. The way he'd positioned himself, the fact he had an armchair in his room. Maybe he was a pro? Maybe he was just a stud.

She was moaning again, her tits swaying beneath her chest. The way her back arched up and down as she moved back and forth along his length, I'd never seen her move like that before. Hell, I'd never seen any woman move like that before.

She looked back, gorging her gaze on his bulky frame. I caught her eye. Fuck, it almost made me come, the way she looked at me. The tiny smile that twisted her lips into sin. The way she closed her eyes for a moment. The way, when she opened them again, she mouthed the words, "Thank-you." Like I'd done this for her. Like this was a gift to her. That really made me throb. A confused, swell of a throb.

He didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem to notice. He just kept sawing that big black cock of his up into my wife. The dark shape of his hand crept across the flesh of her ass from where he'd been holding her. The tip of his thumb, still wet from her juices, touched the tight circle of her puckered ring. She gasped, looked back, but nothing else. She didn't shake her head. She didn't say "no." She just put her head down on close to the bed, the way she'd had it when he'd been eating her. It caused her hole to open a little. "Come on in," she seemed to say.