A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance (13 page)

I watched in delicious horror as that thick, black thumb, moved past the tight ring of muscle. She moaned even louder as he entered her. First to his knuckle then, with a little added pressure, he slipped himself completely inside.

That seemed to get him going, watching his digit sink into her ass. Sure as hell got me going, too. She was bucking and moaning beneath him now. I wanted desperately to save myself for her, I wanted to hold it all in until I could touch her flesh again and make her mine. I honestly didn't know if I could.

Then it started. I heard him groan first. Then I watched as he rammed himself deeper than he'd yet gone. She groaned too and I watched him grip her hips as he drove himself inside. Had she put it in? Or were her insides bare and ready for his seed?

He thrust deep into her again, this time with a guttural gurgle as he held himself there.

She moaned, a delicious, syrupy, smiling moan as I watched his balls tighten, his sack come up and then saw the first flex of the root of his cock as he shot a pulse of his hot, white load inside my tiny wife.

I had to let go of myself again. I just sat there staring, breathing as deeply as I could, trying to keep my own cum inside my cock until I could touch her again.

I watched the muscles of his body rippling as he took his pleasure inside my wife's hot cunt. He didn't fuck her furiously or fast at all, for that matter. They were just slow, meticulous strokes that pushed his cock deep inside her and held it there. He held it there until I saw his seed spilling from her. He'd fucked her so full of his cum that it had nowhere left to go and now white streaks of it shot out from between her red, sore lips and his stiff, black shaft.

When he was finally done with her, he let her fall off of him, onto the bed in a panting heap. He didn't turn and look at me, didn't do anything but pick his clothes up and shuffle away discreetly, leaving me alone with her lying on his bed.

I sprang from the chair, nearly tripping on the pants around my ankles. Kicking them off, I stumbled towards the bed. Crawling onto it, I stared down. There she was, her tender, stretched out pussy full of hot, white love.

For a moment I contemplated pushing myself in, burying myself in that tunnel that was full of another man's cum. But I couldn't. I didn't know what reaction that would bring. Would she hate me? Would she even care.

Instead, I took myself in hand and staring at her well used body, lying exhausted on his bed, I pumped myself to climax. It didn't take long. Ten strokes at most. The sight of her leaking pussy was enough and soon I felt a grimace tearing at my face as I watched my own hot load streaking across her ass, claiming her as mine once more.

Chapter 17

"Andrew."

I think I was still dreaming, when I first heard her say my name.

"Andrew," she repeated, and I felt her hand on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see her staring at me. Her expression was inquisitive, and probably a little worried, too.

The memories of the night before came rushing back. I clambered up to sitting. We were still there, still at Bastian's place, but he was nowhere to be seen. I looked at her again. A deep love welled within me. I'd never seen her in that light. Leaning towards her, I kissed her on the lips, revelling in the heat of her mouth. When I pulled away, her eyes were open, still searching mine.

"I love you," I said, giving her another gentle peck.

"I love you too," she whispered, then added, "are you alright?"

It took a while. I guess I had to think about it, but when I answered, I was sure. "More than alright."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed me, like she never wanted to let go. I let her hold me like that for a while before we both collapsed back on the bed. We stared at the ceiling in silence as the breeze sailed through the window and the sun rose outside on another perfect day. When it seemed like the right moment, I turned to her and spoke again.

"Did you sleep alright?"

"Like a baby."

The word made me shudder. I wondered if I should ask, the question on the tip of my tongue. For some reason I didn't, though. Like I didn't want to know just yet.

"Where is he?" I asked instead.

"I don't know. I think he might have left."

"Breakfast then?" I inquired.

She smiled. "Breakfast then."

We got up, dressed and took a cab back to the hotel. I waited on the bed while she showered. When she finally emerged, she was wearing something much more conservative than she's worn in the days before. I wondered if that meant she felt bad, or regretted what we'd done. What
she'd
done. I showered quickly and we headed towards the restaurant to sate the hunger we both felt. After a couple of mimosa's and a plate of eggs, we were ready to talk again.

"So?" she asked, still searching my eyes for how I felt.

"So?" I echoed, not sure of what to say.

"You're really okay?"

"I'm...I think I am. No. I know I am. I'm okay."

Her body eased into relief. I was glad to see it. Glad to see she still cared enough about what I thought to be relieved that I felt alright.

"Did you like what you saw?" she whispered, pushing her chair closer to mine.

"Yes," I answered. "God, yes." I stared into her eyes. There was love there. More love than I'd ever seen before.

She bit her lower lip and I could tell she couldn't stifle a smile. She was happy, too. Why exactly, I wasn't sure. It almost didn't matter. Almost.

"Did you?" I ventured. There was always the chance that she would. There was the chance that she regretted the whole thing.

"I liked seeing you. Seeing you so turned on."

Her answer made me happy. I was happy she said what she said. I probably would have been happy no matter what she said, but it was definitely what I wanted to hear.

"Did you like it? Did you like...taking you like that?"

She looked away. Like she was scared to admit it, but I could tell how she felt. I could tell right away.

"It's okay. Nothing's changed," I said softly, trying to sound reassuring.

She turned to look at me. "Nothing's changed?" she asked.

"I mean..." I didn't mean to laugh. It just sort of came out. "Of course something's changed. Not in a bad way, though."

"Oh Andrew, are you sure?" There she was. My delicate little Samantha again, seeking my approval, seeking my acceptance. It made me feel even better, about what we'd done.

"Samantha, if you asked me to do it again, I would say yes. In the blink of an eye, I'd say yes."

She leaned back into her chair. She watched me, like she was trying to tell if I was telling the truth. "You'd do it all again?" she whispered.

"A hundred times over. It was so hot, watching you with him."

I suppose the last thing I expected was to see Bastian sauntering over towards our table. It shocked me, watching him walk towards us, but not in a bad way. He looked different now, in the clean light of day. She looked different, too. When I looked at her, it seemed like the confidence, the assuredness of purpose she'd had last night, was gone.

"Bastian!" I said, standing and extending a hand.

He shook his head, smiling at me, before turning to my wife. She didn't stand. She sat and handed him her hand. He kissed the back of it, the way he'd done the night before. Once again, I'd forgotten myself. When he turned to me, I shook my head.

"I suppose you can't teach a man those manners, after a certain point."

He laughed a hearty laugh. His head rolled back and his shoulders shook. "You're a well mannered man, Andrew, my friend. It's easy to forget yourself around such a beautiful woman as your wife."

I hesitate to say, we both blushed at his compliment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, putting his hand on the back of a chair.

"We'd love it!" Samantha answered, almost immediately.

I didn't expect her reaction. Not that I minded, but in the past, she'd usually defer to me. It didn't make me jealous, or nervous, or scared, what she said. It just didn't feel like I was quite as in control of her anymore. I didn't mind it so much. I did feel different, though.

"Of course we don't mind," I added, pulling the chair out for him.

He smiled and sat down and the waitress came over right away. "Just an orange juice," he said, smiling that same, easy smile.

"Yes, chef," she replied before scurrying away. He turned towards us and folded his fingers across his muscled chest.

"You had a good sleep, I hope?" he asked.

"I don't remember," Samantha replied quickly, her lips twisted into a wicked grin.

He laughed again. He seemed to think that laugh could cure anything, smooth over any worry. He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"I can't say I remember much either. I'm sorry we took your bed."

For a moment, he frowned. I realized I probably shouldn't share things so loudly.

"Sorry," I muttered.

His smile returned. "Not to worry, friend." He leaned a closer towards me. "Maybe we'll just keep it between us, though, huh? No need for the whole hotel to know?" He winked.

Feeling quite sheepish, I answered, "Of course."

"Good," he said, leaning back in his chair again. The waitress brought the orange juice and he took a sip. I glanced at Samantha. She was smiling at him, replaying last night's events in her mind, no doubt. "What are the plans for today?" he asked, setting the glass down.

"Oh, probably the beach!" Samantha chirped. "We did the pool yesterday!"

She was being very cheerful. Not that I minded. Although now that we weren't in the moment any longer, it did sting a little bit, how much attention she was paying to him.

"And what about tonight?" Bastian asked with a smile.

That flipped my insides a bit. That was one thing I hadn't bothered to take into account. There was another human in this whole equation. It wasn't just the two of us.

"No plans yet, right Andrew?"

"Uh...no, not yet," I managed to push the words out without sounding completely stunned.

"I'm having a few friends over, nothing too exciting," Bastian explained, "but if you'd like to stop by, I've got the night off. Party should start around nine."

"We'd love to!" Her reply was almost instantaneous. She turned to look at me and her smile faded a little.

I tried very hard to act cool. We could always talk about it later, change our minds. I didn't do the greatest job. The mood soured.

"I mean, we'll have to talk about it first," Samantha said, reaching a hand across the table.

I could tell that Bastian noticed something was up. He finished his orange juice and stood up. "Hey no problems either way. If you're up for a good time, you know where I live."

I smiled weakly and nodded. He flashed me a smile and Samantha a nod before turning to go. As soon as he'd left, I felt her squeeze my hand.

"I'm sorry. I should have said we'd talk about it first." She had the most sincere expression on. It made me feel better right away.

"Come on," I said, pushing my plate away, "let's get ready for the beach."

Chapter 18

"Samantha, I need to talk to you."

She looked at me with earnest eyes. "What is it, Andrew?"

What was it? Where to start? There was so much I wanted to ask her, so much I wanted her to tell me and she seemed like she was actually getting ready for the beach.

"I mean, are we just going to leave it? Just like that?"

"You mean last night?"

"I mean last night. I mean everything. Don't you feel it's owed a conversation?"

"I thought you said everything was alright?"

"It is," I answered, "it is alright. It doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

She seemed to understand. Putting down the beach bag, she dragged me towards the bed. We both sat down on the edge and she put a hand on my cheek. It felt a bit patronizing. Maybe it was just me.

"Okay. Shoot."

"Shoot? Shoot, what?" I snapped. I could feel the irritation bubbling inside me. I tried talking myself down but it felt like she was being so...I don't know, trite, I guess, about the whole thing.

"I mean ask what you want to ask. Or say what you want to say. You're the one that wanted to talk about it."

I could tell she was getting bothered, too, but something inside me snapped at what she'd said. "Well if you're going to be that way about it, forget it." I got up and stomped towards the balcony. The hot, sea air coming off the beach made me realize how I'd acted. When I turned around, she was standing right there.

"I'm sorry." It sounded like my old Samantha, the way she said it. It sounded like the woman I'd married. The woman she was before we came here.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid. Look, I've no right to be upset. I'm the one who wanted to try this. I'm the one who asked you, hell, begged you to do it! I shouldn't act like a child because you enjoyed it and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Thank-you, Andrew. Thank-you for saying that."

I leaned closer to her and kissed her forehead.

"You
did
enjoy yourself then, I take it?" I asked softly.

She giggled a bit, looking down at the floor. She was still smiling when our eyes met again. "I did. Does that make you...does it hurt you? To hear that?"

I had to think about it. There was certainly some element of that in me, churning around amongst everything else I was feeling. It wasn't at the forefront, though. It didn't feel like the most important thing.

"It doesn't hurt me that you had a good time," I said, finally. "I suppose I was a little miffed that you were so eager about tonight. I realize this is going to sound completely selfish, but I just wanted to make sure we're in this together."

"Andrew," she said, putting her hand on my cheek, "that doesn't sound selfish at all. We
are
in this together. I want to make sure you know that."

It occurred to me at that moment that I may have married the perfect woman for me, without realizing how perfect she was until just then.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course you can," she answered, her voice full of warmth.