by Jason Lenov
I watched the front door, much the same way I'd watched the door to the kitchen at the hotel restaurant. Every time it opened I held my breath. Every time it opened, I hoped it would be Bastian. She must have sensed my nervous excitement.
"Just for the record," she said, gently putting down her glass, "there'll be no hard feelings? However this goes?"
"No hard feelings. Only good ones," I replied. "I promise." I figured that even if things didn't go my way, it would still be a thrill. Besides, Bastian seemed like a really nice guy. When he finally walked in, I stiffened and took a deep breath.
He'd changed his clothes. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt now, instead of his well ironed, white chef's shirt. He smiled as soon as he saw us in the corner. He moved through the room with an ease and grace I hadn't seen in the restaurant. There, he was in charge, he was in command, his body filled with the tension that position brought with it. Here, he was in his element. Comfortable, yet in control. I rose to greet him.
"Bastian!"
"I'm surprised to see you here!" Ignoring my outstretched hand, he instead turned to Samantha. She gave him her delicate hand and he bent down low over her and touched it with his lips.
I felt my face flush at how I'd forgotten myself. Of course a gentleman would greet her first. Only after they'd said hello, did he turn towards me.
"I thought you'd both be sound asleep by now!" he beamed, seeming genuinely pleased that we were there. He took a seat beside my wife.
"Hey mon!" the bartender said, slapping him on the back then shaking his hand. "Good to see you!" He turned to us. "I didn't realize you were friends of the chef!"
"Guests at the hotel," I corrected.
"Well, friends now I suppose," he chided. "Or once I have a drink? This is James."
We exchanged pleasantries. He asked what had brought us to the island, how our time here had been so far. I tried to be polite, but Samantha ended up doing most of the talking. I could barely tear my eyes away from how close she'd moved to Bastian. He placed his order, then folded his hands and turned back towards us.
"So? I take it you're having a good time?" he asked.
Samantha took over. "It's been wonderful so far. The resort is marvellous." I watched her every movement. She was playing the part perfectly. Not too eager, not too excited. Like she knew what it took, to snare a man like Bastian.
After a few drinks, the conversation drifted towards the personal. How long had he been there? Five years now, since he came back from France. Was he married? Too busy for that just yet. Anyone in his life? He laughed at her questions. I thought I saw a flicker of discomfort, at how close she was starting to probe, but he seemed to brush it away easily.
"There are many beautiful women on the islands. Many just passing through, too!" he answered, flashing us a knowing grin.
Samantha looked at me, her eyebrows slightly raised. If I'd been any more drunk, or any less aroused by the situation, I wouldn't have realized she was telling me to go. Thankfully, I recognized the look almost right away. Excusing myself, I retreated to the restroom.
It was agony. After I'd relieved myself, I stood in the small stall, counting down the seconds, wondering what they were saying. Wondering if he was touching her yet. When I thought enough time had passed for her to ask whatever she was going to ask, I re-emerged. I found them leaning towards each other at the table and it made me catch my breath.
He whispered something at her. Not too close to her ear, but close enough so only she could hear. She giggled and looked the other way. My cock jumped. My heart began to race. I walked through the darkness and rejoined them in the dim pool of light cast by the lamp on the table.
"My turn!" Samantha chirped. Bastian lifted his sturdy frame and let her pass, then sat back down. He looked at me, one corner of his mouth curled in a smile. His eyes were curious.
"So, my friend? What's the game here then?"
It took me by surprise a little bit. I hadn't been expecting something so forthright. "What game, Bastian?"
He chuckled, like he saw right through my guise. "Your wife just propositioned me. You know that though, right?" The smile was still there but a hint of worry was behind it, like he might have read things wrong.
"I know," I said with a sigh. I won't say it wasn't awkward. It was, a bit. I could tell it was a bit for him.
"Why?" he asked, now seeming genuinely curious.
"Something she wanted to try?" I replied.
He chuckled this time. "Her? What about you?"
"I want her to be happy," I said, hiding my mild embarrassment behind a swig of scotch.
"Just like that? No problem? With another man?"
"Like I said, I want her to be happy." It didn't seem enough for him, that I would just give my beautiful wife away like that. "Did she tell you that I'd like to watch?"
For a moment his eyes registered his surprise. The easy smile came back quickly, though. He leaned in close. "You want to watch me with your wife?"
I swallowed, too loudly again, then nodded. I was absolutely certain now that's what I wanted.
He sat back up and a second later Samantha returned. He made to stand again, to let her in, but she pushed him across the bench, to where she'd been sitting.
"So?" she asked, looking fresh from her trip. "You boys sort it all out?"
I felt a pang of anger, that she'd left me to deal with things on my own that way. It passed quickly though. What could I expect? Only fair I do some work, too.
"It's all sorted," I replied. Too quickly, too eagerly.
She giggled. He chuckled.
I downed the rest of my drink.
Chapter 16
He didn't want to go to the hotel. Though there wasn't a rule that he couldn't fraternize with the guests, I suspected sleeping in their rooms would be frowned upon. I thought it was probably better that way. If for some reason things didn't go for me the way I hoped, at least it wouldn't be our bed they would have slept in.
He sat in the front seat, on the cab ride over. Samantha and I took the back. She stared, smiling as the lights of the town passed by outside. Just when I thought I'd have to ask her for it, she put her hand in my lap. She slid along my thigh until she found what she was looking for. She found it hard. As she squeezed me with her hand, I leaned in and kissed her on the neck. She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and smiled.
His apartment was sparsely decorated, but spacious. It seemed he'd done well, so far anyway. He had rum and white wine. I took mine neat. He poured her a healthy glass. I settled into an old armchair as they sank into the couch.
"Before we begin," he said, "you should know that you'll be staying here."
"Bastian, that won't..."
He interrupted by raising his hand. "You won't catch a cab back at this time of night and I won't have you walking. The sheets are fresh. The bed is in there. I'll take the couch," he explained, his deep voice rumbling through the silence of the night.
I wanted to apologize, to thank him for his generosity. When I thought about it though, it wasn't as if we weren't being generous, too.
"Thank-you," I said, accepting his hospitality.
He chuckled. Putting down his glass, he turned to Samantha. "Well, thank-you."
She downed her wine and put the glass down on the table in front of the couch. She looked so delicate next to his imposing frame. I watched him turn towards her, put an arm around her, then lean in and press his thick lips against hers. A nervous shudder of excitement ran through me as she met his kiss.
His large, black hand pressed against her cheek. He turned her towards himself. I watched their jaws moving, in time with each other. I could see the moment when he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth.
I saw it in her body, not just by the way her mouth opened to take him. Her back arched up from the couch as his hand fell to her side. His fingers grazed her breast. She seemed to want him there, her body seemed to need his closeness now. He put the hand on her dainty waist and pull
ed her even closer.
My cock throbbed in delight beneath my shorts as I watched her slowly melting in his arms. She was still my Samantha, but now she was even more of a stranger than she had been the last few days. Maybe it was just the booze. Maybe it was the weight of such a sturdy, handsome man pressed against her. Whatever it was, none of the prudish stiffness I'd come to know as my Samantha remained. Her body was liquid, taking his shape when and where he demanded it. I watched in agonized delight.
Their kiss lingered like that for what seemed like hours. Every time I thought it would end, he pressed his mouth closer to hers. His lips once drifted down her neck, down to the places where I liked to kiss her most. She just lay back, her eyes closed, letting him take her any way he wanted. When I saw that, I wondered if it was in me, to watch him take her in every way. My rigid shaft was not giving me much choice.
When he'd had enough of her mouth, I saw his hand drift up her body once again. He let his thick fingers settle on her breast. He found her stiff nipple easily, with a finger and a thumb. When he pinched her, she gasped. Her eyes shot open, as if the pain had swept her pleasure out from underneath her and set her back in the room. He stayed her easily with his dark hand. When he kissed her neck again, she sank back into her trance.
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.