A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance

by Jason Lenov

"He's not my James any more."

  "I know Samantha but he was then and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. Since the day we met."

  "But it's all in the past now," she replied, confused. "I know it was unfortunate, the way things happened, but it's all in the past. I've spoken to him, you know that. He doesn't mind."

  "I know," I replied, racking my mind for how to explain it, "but it's not that. It's not that I feel bad about coming between you two. It all turned out for the best, I know. It's something else, something I've wondered."

  "What?" she asked, plainly. As if she wasn't scared at all, to hear what I had to say.

  "After we met, you and I. After we met at that party and talked that night, before we got involved. Before things got messy. Did you..." I trailed off, sinking back into my thoughts. I wondered if anything would change if I said it out loud. It didn't matter. I had to say it now. "Did you make love to him after that?"

  It felt like she looked even more deeply into my eyes then. Like she needed to see for herself what it was that was inside me, making me ask these questions.

  "I suppose we did," she answered softly.

  My cock flexed against her leg.

  "But Andrew, we weren't together yet. It wasn't for a few weeks that..."

  "I know," I cut her off. I didn't want her to think I was accusing her of anything. I didn't want her to think I was accusing her of cheating. "I know it's just that...I find that incredibly exciting."

  "Incredibly exciting?" she whispered. "That James and I made love?"

  God, how I wanted her just then, hearing her say those words. "Samantha, I don't know why it is or how it got stuck in my mind. But I haven't been able to get it off since then."

  "Since we met?" she asked.

  "Since we met."

  I have to say, I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd played out this conversation in my mind so many times. Every time it ended the same way. With Samantha crying, not understanding anything. But whatever about her was different here, it had given me the courage to speak. I was glad I had.

  I watched her eyes wander up and down my face, then turn to look out the balcony. She was doing it again, rolling the idea around in her mind. When she turned back to me it was with another question.

  "Is it because he's black?"

  It made me wonder myself. As much time as I'd spent thinking about it, I didn't know whether that made a difference or not. "I'm not sure," I answered, still thinking.

  "So you don't think about me and my other boyfriends? The nice white boys?"

  It startled me, the way she said it. "Samantha, I'm not trying to be racist!"

  Her lips into a smile. "So there is something about him being black."

  I couldn't deny it, there was definitely something that made it hotter. What it was though, I wasn't sure.

  "Andrew," she asked quietly, "how often do you do this?"

  I looked at her. I started getting nervous. Of course we were close, we were husband and wife. Nobody had ever been this close to me before. Not this far inside my mind. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," I started, rolling away from her. I was still hard. I still wanted her. I didn't know if I could let go enough to tell her the rest.

  "Wait a second," she said, not giving in. "You're the one that started all this. You don't just get to stop it like that. It's not fair."

  She was right. It wasn't fair. Besides, the part of me that wanted to hear her talk about it was far stronger than the part that didn't.

  She was on top of me, her face just inches from mine. Her eyes searching, still.

  "Okay don't laugh," I began.

  "I wouldn't laugh at something like that!"

  "I just mean don't laugh at what I'm about to say."

  "Alright."

  "You know how you feel with the dildo inside you?"

  She burst into laughter. I couldn't help it. I started laughing too. We both rolled onto our backs, laughing towards the ceiling, tears streaming from our eyes. Every time one of us would calm down, the other would start laughing. It went on like that until we both had nothing left.

  "I'm sorry," she sputtered in one final guffaw. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

  "I know," I replied, "that's why I said 'Don't laugh.'" I smiled at her. Her cheeks looked so rosy from the outburst. A breeze came in off the ocean and blew through her hair. "What I meant is that, when we do that, you seem to just..."

  She bit her lower lip. "Lose myself in it?"

  Excitement rushed through me again. I couldn't believe this was my wife I was talking to. I propped myself up on one elbow, barely able to contain myself at the fact that she understood.

  "Yes! That's it, exactly!"

  I felt myself harden. It felt like she was getting it. It felt like she might understand what I had to say.

  She looked at me and there was mischief in her smile now. "So, when you think about it, when you think about me with another man, that turns you on?"

  I felt her hand on my half stiff cock. I looked down to see her fingers gliding up and down a few times before disappearing into my underwear. Her palm was hot and my cock hardened completely as soon as she touched me.

  "I guess so..." she whispered.

  She pulled me out.

  I couldn't believe this was happening. Was there something in the air? Was there something in the water here that had changed her? Had it been something I had said? Or did she just feel like she could let loose here? There was no accountability, no one was watching. She didn't have to play the prude like she did back home.

  Right now, it didn't really matter. There were much more pressing matters to attend.

  "I've always wanted to see it like this. In the light of day, I mean," Samantha said. She'd pulled my underwear down and was caressing my cock, watching it bounce under her touch. When she looked up, I saw the same hunger in her eyes. They looked the way they had last night.

  "Andrew?" she asked. I thought I might pop just by how sultry she sounded.

  "Yes?" I said, breathless at her touch.

  "Can I suck it?"

  "Oh fuck yes..." I breathed as she shuffled down the bed. I felt her breath on it. It made my cock stiffen again.

  "Andrew?"

  "Yes?"

  "Is this what you think about me doing to James?"

  My body could not tell a lie. My cock flexed again.

  "I guess so," she said, holding me firmly. "It doesn't make you jealous?" She was a little wary.

  "I...maybe a bit," I answered, barely able to contain my excitement. I could feel the cum filling my cock already.

  "I don't want you to be jealous," she said with a pout.

  All I could think of was watching those lips wrap around the head of my cock, then slide down my shaft.

  "It's not a bad jealousy," I explained, aching for her touch. "It's strange...it makes it feel better somehow."

  She raised an eyebrow. Just one. The glimmer of a smile returned to her lips.

  "So if I told you that I used to suck him like this, that he used to make me suck him like this, it wouldn't make you mad?"

  "Ungh!" I rumbled, unable to stifle the groan of pleasure her admission brought. It made her smile crack open.

  "I guess not!" she said, seeming very pleased.

  An odd sensation ran through me. I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth about her ex-boyfriend or if she was just making things up to humour me. I didn't care right now, but my mind seemed to file the question away for later.

  I couldn't have thought about it any more even if I had wanted to. She opened her mouth. Her eyes didn't let go of mine. Her little pink tongue popped out and I watched as the tip of it touched the head of my straining cock.

  "Oh Sam!" I groaned. I was dangerously close to an eruption.

  "Yes, Andrew?" she asked. She was still staring straight at me. Moving lower, she pressed her tongue against the underside of my cock and ran up the length of it in a lick.

  I shuddered and gripped the sheets.
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  "Oh Andrew," she teased with a smile, "this is so naughty!" I watched wide-eyed as she opened her mouth a little wider. Sinking down onto me, she swallowed me whole.

  I couldn't stop staring at her. Partly because of how incredibly hot she looked, but mostly because I couldn't stop the thought racing through my mind. Had she really done this with James? Had she taken his big, black cock in her mouth this way? What else had they done? Was my perfectly polite Samantha secretly a dirty little whore?

  Her fingers found the heat of my sack. I groaned again. She looked up at me and her mouth popped off the end of my cock as she came up for air.

  "Do you like that Andrew? Do you like it when I do that?"

  "Oh fuck yes, Samantha," I replied, staring deep into her eyes, trying to figure out if it was all just an act.

  She seemed to approve of my answer. Without hesitating, she swallowed me again and started kneading at my balls, as if she couldn't wait for my sperm to come pulsing from my shaft.

  I stared at her intently, watching the woman I thought I knew so well bouncing up and down the length of my shaft and coax the cum out of me. My hips started jutting up as I felt my climax begin to take over my body.

  She put a hand on my pelvis, pressing me against the bed. Her head bobbed even faster though as she tried to suck the sperm out of my nuts. The fingers of her other hand were still rolling my balls around.

  "Fuck...fuck...fuck!" I breathed again, my body starting to quake, "Fuck Sam, I'm going to come!"

  I expected her to pull off, to finish me with her hand. I thought she would find it...disgusting. I was so wrong.

  The first throb of an explosion burst inside her mouth. She slowed down completely. "Ah!" I yelled as my body shook, trying to fuck more of me into her mouth. She held me down though and I couldn't believe the feeling that gripped my insides.

  Time seemed to slow. My climax stretched as she worked her tongue slowly, carefully over my entire cock. Each burst of sperm inside her cheeks felt like another orgasm, not part of the same one. Then, just as the feeling started to ebb, she sped up again. Her head bobbed up and down, her hand following it. She gripped my balls. I screamed as she coaxed the last spurts of cum from me, then eased me back into the real world, back onto the bed.

  When she crawled back up toward me, I was still breathing heavily. I stared at her in amazement and disbelief. I shook my head slowly.

  "What in the fuck was that?" I whispered.

  "You liked it?" she asked. I couldn't believe how shy she sounded.

  "Who are you?" was all I could say.

  She giggled. "Samantha Smith, silly. I'm you're wife. Come on. Let's go get breakfast."

  Chapter 10

  "Andrew, it's so beautiful here."

  I hadn't stopped staring at her staring out over the ocean since we'd sat down for breakfast. She was right. It was incredibly beautiful. The few wisps of cloud in the sky only seemed to make the blue of it even deeper. The warm ocean breeze tickled us as we sipped our coffee.

  "I'm glad you let yourself be convinced," I said, taking a break from staring at Samantha to enjoy the view myself. When I looked back at her, she was taking a deep breath, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she caught me watching her.

  "You've been looking at me like that all morning!" she said, her voice shy. "What is it?!?"

  "Did you mean what you said?" I asked.

  "Did I mean what I said when?"

  "Did you mean what you said about James? When we were in the bedroom?"

  Her shoulders sagged and she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So you are jealous! I knew you would be! I knew I shouldn't have..."

  "Samantha, no!" I interrupted, sliding my chair closer to hers so I could hold her hand.

  "You said it made you jealous! You said so in the room!" she countered.

  "Please, you have to listen to me," I replied, sounding a little frantic.

  She seemed to settle down.

  "It's not that I'm jealous and that I don't want you to tell me. It's that I'm jealous and if it's true, I want to hear more!" I explained.

  She pondered that for a moment. Her brow furrowed a little and she studied my eyes again, like she didn't quite believe me. "You want to hear more?" she finally asked, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

  "Is it true then, Samantha? Were you really like that with James?"

  The corners of her lips curled up into a sly little smile. A shiver ran through me at who she'd turned into, who I'd turned her into. I could barely wait to hear what she was going to say next.

  "What if I didn't tell you?"

  "Didn't tell me what? What you did with James?" I asked, dejected at the possibility that she was going to deny me the pleasure.

  "No," she answered, leaning back in her chair but still watching me. "What if I didn't tell you whether all of it was real, or if I was just making it up?"

  A shiver ran through me. A delectable, jealous shiver of excitement and dread. "Well that would just be the most perfectly cruel thing you could possibly do," I answered. She looked down at my waist. My cock had already started to rise again. When she looked back up, she was smiling a much wider smile.

  Her eyes rose and she seemed to ponder the ceiling. When they came back to mine, her gaze was more intense.

  "I have a question for you now."

  "What is it?" I asked, hoping she would finish her breakfast quickly so I could try to bed her again.

  "Did you mean what you said? The other night? When you were drunk?"

  "When? What did I say?" I couldn't tell what she was getting at. She leaned even closer. Her warm breath tickled my ear.

  "When you said you wanted to watch me fuck our big, black Chef?"

  A ripple of excitement coursed through me. It settled in between my legs. I looked at her. There was excitement there, too. In her eyes. What had I created? What had I done?

  "Samantha, are you serious? Would you do it?"

  "The question is, Andrew Smith, are you serious? Would you really want me to?"

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Oh yes Samantha. God, yes!" I whispered, clutching at her arm.

  "Hm." She leaned back over the table and took a bite of her toast. I sat there staring at her, dumbfounded. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to ask.

  "Samantha, are you really going to do it?"

  "I don't know," she answered. She took a sip of coffee. "I'll have to finish my breakfast first."

  ***

  I sat on the edge of the bed. Samantha stood at the balcony, staring at the ocean view beyond. I studied her. Even the way she moved had seemed to change. Gone were the quick, jerky, prissy motions of a proper lady. Now her body swayed with an easy elegance. Once again I wondered what I'd done.

  "So you think you're serious about this?" she said. The sound of her voice shook me from my stupor, back into the room.

  I couldn't believe what she was asking me. Hell, I could barely believe any of this was happening. Never in a million years would I have suspected that my wife would act like this.

  "I do want it, Samantha," I said. "I want to watch you with another man."

  She pulled the chair out from the desk and put it in the middle of the room.

  "I'll tell you what," she said, walking towards where I was sitting and taking me by the hands. She pulled me to my feet and walked me over to the chair. "Have a seat," she said, smiling politely.

  "What are you doing?" I asked with a smile. "What's this about, then?"

  "Well, if you're so certain, I want to make some rules."

  I sat down. I still couldn't take my eyes off hers. Was she really being serious about this? Would she really go through with it? "Alright," I answered as she strolled around the room. "What sort of rules?"

  "Well first of all," she said, strolling behind me and running a slender finger down my neck. It sent a shiver through me. "First of all I want to make sure you really are serious."

  "I am Samantha, I swea
r it!" I replied. Turning to look at her I begged her to believe me with my eyes.

  "Maybe so, but I want to be sure. Take off your pants."

  I jumped to my feet and tore away my shorts. Throwing them across the room, I sat back down, staring at my wife, wondering what she would have me do next. She walked around the chair and stood in front of me. I raked up and down her petite form. This was getting very interesting, indeed.

  "You want to hear some stories?" she asked, her expression completely serious.

  It was hot, seeing her take control like that. I was more than happy to play along. "Absolutely," I replied, nodding eagerly.

  "You want to hear how James fucked me?"

  The words were like a delicious punch in the gut. My cock shifted. Her eyes caught the motion and glanced at it. When she looked back up, she seemed convinced.

  "I guess you really do."

  My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at the prim and proper lady that I'd married, stared at me with sultry, slutty eyes. I nodded again.

  "See, this is the part I want to be sure of, Mr. Smith." She took a step towards me. "Because maybe you think you want to see me with another man but when it really comes to it, when the moment is there, I want to be sure that you won't change your mind."

  My cock had started throbbing as she circled me. When she knelt down in front of me, it was almost completely hard.

  "So it wouldn't bother you at all," she said, "if I were to do this with another man?" She pulled at the elastic of my underwear until I popped out in front of her. The image of her with another man's cock in front of her just made me all the harder.

  "No. I would love that," I answered.

  "And you'd like to watch that? You'd like to watch your wife doing this with someone else?" She put her fingers gently against the underside of my cock and started rubbing up and down. I watched my member bouncing at her touch.

  "Oh God yes, Samantha," I replied. I could see it now in my mind's eye. I could see her kneeling in front of Bastian.

  It was a shock, to say the least. This Samantha was more than just a little different. This wasn't my Samantha at all. My cock was too hard, the ache in it too great for me to think about it more.