Dark Tide

by Ben Boswell

  Chapter Ten

  When we awoke, we were anchored in a gorgeous, Caribbean cove, a crescent of white sand, bordered by swaying palms, encircling a pool of indigo alive with a multitude of fish and small darting birds.

  “This is my favorite spot in all of the islands,” Reg explained. “We often like to spend the last day of a cruise here. We set up a small camp, a fire pit. There is a trail that loops around the island and of course the water is perfect to swim in.”

  “Sounds delightful,” I acknowledged.

  As Jennifer and I ate breakfast, Reg, Denny, and Thom made several trips to shore carrying various supplies. By the time they ferried us over, they had created a small island paradise with comfortable loungers, a canopy decorated with palm fronds, and a sort of Tatami matting as a floor.

  We settled in. Jennifer had brought a book. I was sort of staring off into space, which in practice meant watching as Reg and Denny dug the fire pit, shirts off, muscles rippling. I looked over at my wife. She’d made no progress on her book.

  “Enjoying the view?” I asked.

  She blushed and made a show out of ducking back into her novel.

  “Jenn… i… fer,” I sing-songed at her. “What’s the matter?”

  She ignored me. I’m not sure what I wanted. Why was I pushing her buttons? Why couldn’t I get enough of this stupid fantasy?

  “Hey Captain,” I called out. “Do any of your guests go au naturale out here?”

  I glanced over at my wife, hiding behind her book, making shushing gestures at me.

  He grinned. “It is certainly private enough.”

  She finally put down her novel and gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, no, I am not getting naked in front of all of you.”

  I laughed. “We’d all join you. Anyway, you’ve done more than get naked already.”

  Another crimson blush.

  “Let’s put it up to a vote,” I suggested. “All in favor?”

  Denny’s hand shot up first. Of course. Thom had paused from setting up a makeshift bar to watch. His hand went up. Reg and I locked eyes and then, exchanging grins, simultaneously raised our hands.

  Jennifer rolled her eyes, but her grin told another story. “Democracy sucks.”

  “That’s not the only thing that sucks,” I teased.

  She gave me a saucy smirk. So that’s how you wanna play it? Leaning over she whispered in my ear, “you might regret this.”

  But before I could respond, she stood before me. “Can you help me out of this?”

  She was wearing one of her practical suits, still sexy, but less skimpy than the others. Still, it was hardly a full-body wet suit requiring assistance to remove. Legs slightly parted, lips pursed, she waited on me.

  I rose. She turned away from me and faced the other men frankly. I untied her bikini top and eased it off. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move to cover herself as I bared her beautiful, full breasts. She spun back around, her eyes going to her bottoms. I sat back down and with both hands reached out and seized the fabric at each hip.

  Slowly I pulled down her bikini bottoms. I knew they were getting a good look at her sweet ass, but it wasn’t as good a view as the one I had of her pretty, bare, shaved beaver. Fully recovered from yesterday’s adventures, I knew it would be soon be split, stuffed, hammered full of hard, black cock. I leaned forward to give her a quick lick. She was already juicy, aroused.

  She gave me another warning. “One day mister, you’re going to go too far.”

  Again, she didn’t give me a chance to response. She turned back to face the crew. “I thought we were all going to be nudists?” she taunted.

  They stripped down quickly. She perused them frankly, her eyes lingering on their meaty packages. I noted enviously Thom and Reg’s hanging girth, marveled at Denny’s youthfully exuberant erection.

  Jennifer looked back over her shoulder. “You too honey. Don’t worry about the fact that they’re all much bigger than you. I told you, it doesn’t matter,” she concluded in a tone that implied precisely the opposite.

  I forced a chuckle, but the jibe had found its mark. She was going to extract a price from me for today. As I slipped off my own suit, my wife strode over to the younger man, shaking her head, clucking in disapproval.

  “Just because we’re being nudists doesn’t mean we can just tolerate obscenity.”

  He seemed genuinely anxious.

  “I’m just going to have to take care of this,” she added, dropping to her knees.

  His grimace quickly turned into a dazzling smile. He thrust his cock into toward her mouth.

  “Ah ah ah,” she said, pushing him away gently, “remember what I taught you yesterday.”

  He nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

  With a deep breath and a look of great concentration, he calmed himself and allowed my wife to tenderly take him into her hot, wet, inviting mouth.

  ***

  We never did get to explore the island. Instead, we just stayed around the camp. It was fascinating to watch her with each of those men in rapid succession, each bringing out a different, yet equally enticing personality.

  With Denny, she was always tutoring. Even with her ankles pinned around her ears as he tried to drive her through the matting into the island sand, she was still tutoring him, cajoling, adjusting his angle of attack. With Thom it was comfortable, oddly nonchalant. Sitting in his lap, his fat prick wedged into her ass, she ground against him and exchanged recipes. And with Reg it was volcanic. Two thoroughbreds, perfectly matched, extracting every last bit of sexual energy from the other.

  At one point she approached me, smirking at the cheery grin on my face. She was sweaty, sandy. Her snatch was a swollen, gooey mess.

  “I should make you lick this clean,” she menaced.

  Instead, she climbed into my lap and impaled her sloppy cunt on my twitching hardon. I’d never felt anything like it. No friction at all. Just a wet, gooey heat. She ground against me. My crotch was suddenly drenched with a flood of the jism she’d milked from her lovers.

  “I can barely feel you,” she taunted.

  “I thought you said size doesn’t matter.”

  She ignored my response. “You like it when I’m a messy whore?” she growled in my ear. “A whore for black cock.”

  “You’re not a whore.”

  “Yeah? That,” she nodded into my lap, “is just the start. You think they’re done with me yet?”

  I laughed. “I hope not. It’s still early.”

  “And you think it ends here? What you’ve started?”

  “I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “How do you know I won’t get addicted to this? To getting fucked silly by big, black cocks.”

  “I consider it a calculated risk.”

  She laughed darkly. “That’s because you’re thinking with this,” she said as she ground into me, “not this,” she tapped the side of my head. “The kids are getting older now. At school all day, with friends after. Plenty of time for me to feed my new addiction.”

  I looked into her eyes. There was a crazed intensity in her gaze that made me rethink my smart-ass response.

  “You’d probably like that,” she continued. “You working hard all day, while I spend my days on my back, getting stretched out by a succession of hard, dark, pricks. Think about it Jeremy. Think about me spreading my legs for any and every hot black man I run into.”

  Her eyes were closed, and I knew she was imagining it herself, her body grinding against mine passionately as she let the vision play in her mind. We heard laughter from the edge of camp. It was Reg and Thom teasing Denny about his resurgent erection. Jennifer nodded in their direction.

  “I better go. You know I can’t resist a hard, black cock anymore.”

  She quickly rose and stalked in their direction to a renewed round of chuckles. She approached Denny and turned on her heels. Her eyes never left mine as she dropped down onto her hands and knees.

  He followed after he
r and plunged his raging hardon into her well-used twat. He pumped it in, two, three times and then withdrew, his shaft coated in their mingled juices. I remembered what he’d said last night, and she seemed to realize what he was about to do at the same moment I did. She took a deep breath just as he thrust his well-lubed cock into her tight little ass.

  He was smiling radiantly, spreading her cheeks apart so he could admire the view. Jennifer was gasping and groaning, though not in discomfort.

  “That’s it,” she hissed, more at me than at him, “fuck me in the ass. Fuck me like I’ve never let my husband do.”

  ***

  Things got even more intense as the afternoon wore on. Fueled by booze and the realization that our cruise was at an end, the crew seemed desperate to take advantage of every last opportunity to fuck my wife. And whether to fulfill my fantasy or feed her own, she didn’t refuse them anything.

  Reg took his turn sodomizing her. Holding her up in the air, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, as he bounced her up and down on his prick. Her eyes always went to mine though. With each new act of depravity, we made eye contact.

  As then as the sun began to set, she rode Reg’s big prick with abandon as he lay on his back. Hair flying, big tits bouncing wildly, she coaxed even Thom to yet another erection. He didn’t wait his turn this time. Instead, he scooted up behind my wife and firmly pressed his fat tool into her ass. She didn’t pause, instead, she thrust back even harder against the now two invading cocks inside her.

  Again, she searched me out. “See what they’re doing to me, baby?” she trilled. “See what they’re doing to your wife? You don’t really think I’ll ever be the same after this, do you?”

  And when Denny ambled over, turgid as usual, she deftly swallowed his prick into her mouth.

  They moved like that for what seemed like an eternity. Three hung, powerful black men roughly using my slender, blond-haired, pale-skinned wife for their own pleasure. And yet when they were done, when each of time in rapid succession climaxed in her mouth, her cunt, her ass, she was the one who still wanted more, who continued to thrust against them until their now spent pricks slipped out of her, defeated by her unbridled passion.

  ***

  After a dinner of seared fish on the beach, Reg ferried us back to the boat while Denny and Thom worked to break down the camp. Jennifer was quiet, pensive, and for the first time I worried I’d pushed things too far.

  In our cabin, I waited anxiously in bed with the lights out as she showered. To my delight, when she joined me she was naked. I quickly wriggled out of my PJs and spooned her. She was warm, soft, and smelled of soap. I still had the memory of her debauched performance in my mind, but the reality of my sweet, cuddly wife in bed with me at the same time.

  She pressed her hard ass back against my rapidly growing erection. After all the sex she’d already had, I was not going to force her into more, but I was gratified when she reached back and grabbed my cock and began to rub the head gently against her soft pussy lips.

  I reached around and gently caressed her stomach, her breasts. I moved aside her hair and nibbled gently on her neck. I felt her arousal grow.

  As my cock slipped inside her, she moaned, “You’ll need to be gentle with me.”

  Visions of heavy, ebony cocks penetrating each of her orifices filled my brain, inflaming me further.

  “Am I still stretched out?” she asked.

  She was, a little, but she still felt so good, like a slightly worn sweater that somehow feels the better for the use.

  “They were very rough with me.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned.

  “Were you proud of me? The way I took them again… and again… and again…”

  “Fuck.” I came hard.

  When she was sure I was done, she rolled away from me slightly, letting my limp cock slide from her pussy.

  “Good night, honey, I need my sleep,” she said simply, a remarkably understated summary of her day.

  I rolled over feeling oddly perturbed. I understood she was tired. I was grateful she’d even been willing to do what she’d done just now. And yet, her perfunctory manner, the way she did and said the very minimum necessary to get me off, the fact that she didn’t even seek an orgasm for herself, oddly enough felt more whorish than the high-spirited screwing I’d seen her doing the rest of the day.

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I went to sleep uneasy.

  Chapter Eleven

  We actually had to set our alarm. The cruise ended promptly at 10:00am. I didn’t think they’d actually rush us, but that was in the contract and I had already arranged for a car to be waiting for us at the pier.

  We had a quick breakfast and finished packing. I gave my goodbyes to the crew. It was, I’ll admit, a little awkward. But then again, I’d surely never see these men again, which, of course, had been one of the appeals of the fantasy in the first place.

  Jennifer’s goodbyes took a little longer. Nothing untoward, but she seemed to want to share a few more personal words with each man than I did. I proceeded down the gangplank to wait for her. I could see our limo waiting just beyond the first set of gates.

  When I turned back toward Jennifer, I noticed she’d let go of her roller bag and was just looking at me.

  “Honey, you coming?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “I’m not technically back on dry land yet.”

  Which meant that things were not over yet unless she wanted them to be.

  I forced a smile. “I got us an amazing suite. Jacuzzi, balcony, everything.”

  I felt like an ass trying to tempt my wife to join me, especially with Reg and the others watching.

  “I think I want to stay on board for a bit.”

  I wasn’t going to beg. But I needed to set a marker.

  “Our plane is tomorrow at two.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll be on it.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  We looked at each other, but I could see nothing in her eyes.

  “Okay, well, have fun. You know where to find me,” I said as I began pulling my bag toward the waiting limo.

  ***

  It was not a fun ride. I eschewed the waiting bottle of champagne and instead poured myself a tumbler full of Bourbon.

  Was she just trying to teach me a lesson? Show me that I had taken her for granted when I’d pushed her into fulfilling my fantasy? Was she really addicted to it and needed one last fix? Except… that was the thing with addicts, right? They always think they are just one last fix away from being right.

  I took a big gulp. It burned my throat. The pain felt like penance. My head swam. The better to take the edge off my hurt.

  It hadn’t seemed like I’d been forcing her into anything. Indeed, from almost the very beginning, it had seemed almost as much her fantasy as my own. Her actions… her lewd, randy, yes, whorish, actions had gone so far above anything I could have expected, anything I’d even dreamed, that I couldn’t accept the idea that she resented me for pressuring her into it.

  And yet, something had gone wrong, because right now, instead of sipping champagne with me in the back of a limo and giggling about our wild and crazy week, she was still back on board the yacht orgying with Denny, Thom, and especially Reg.

  What was she doing with them? Things that she didn’t want me to see? Was there anything left undone? And then, with a depressing realization, I got it. It was all so simple. No need to complicate it. Given an extra twenty-four hours of freedom, she would rather spend it getting fucked senseless by our shipboard companions than spend it with me.

  Simple, but all the more hurtful for it. I drained the rest of the tumbler and closed my eyes as we drove to the hotel.

  ***

  The splendor of the suite at the Grand Hyatt felt like an affront. When the bellhop showed me the Jacuzzi, it seemed like he was mocking me. All in my head, I knew, but the balcony, the king-sized bed, the view, the flowers… all of it had
been planned for me to share with Jennifer. And now she wasn’t here. She was half-way across town, still technically on the water, getting filled with the better part of a yard of black cock. I was the one who felt at sea.

  I knew I couldn’t stay in the suite. I’d have to sleep there, but that was all. I threw a bathing suit and a pair of shoes into my backpack and headed out. I stalked right past the pool. I had too much nervous energy to just sit out in the sun. I walked out of the resort and toward Nassau proper.

  Everything reminded me of my Jennifer. Just walking around markets and store-lined streets seemed to beg for her presence with me to ooh and ahh at a neat little piece of jewelry or a cute sundress. On my own, it was all just oppressive.

  I sort of barhopped but without any of the mirth usually associated with that term. I was just passing time until I’d get my wife back…. Because I did want her back. Whatever was going on between us right now was surely my fault somehow, even if I didn’t quite understand it.

  ***

  I went for an early dinner at a swanky steakhouse, the kind of place Jennifer at best tolerates. I had a huge slab of cow, a brutally over-priced, but delicious, bottle of red. I stepped out in the gloaming and gazed up at the looming casinos of Paradise Island. Like the steakhouse, that was another place that wouldn’t remind me of my wife. She never got the appeal of gambling.

  My excitement grew as I entered. I finally had enough in the bank that I could play with the $100 chips without guilt. Hell, I might even throw a few $500s around to see how that felt. I stopped by the cashier and set up a quick line of credit and then pocketed $2500 in chips to get started.

  On my way to the blackjack table, my enthusiasm began to wane. True, this was not the sort of place Jennifer would like, but the place was full of Jennifers, pretty women flirting and giggling with their men. The sadness of sitting at a table by myself and playing cards suddenly hit me.

  I shook my head. It was a fucking miserable day, and I just needed to end it. Go back to the hotel, have a triple Bourbon and pass out.