I shuddered, trembling from head to toe with pleasure, sliding my legs up and down along the mattress as I struggled to contain myself, but my fantasies only getting hotter and hotter with each passing minute, not to mention dirtier and dirtier, and my fingers sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into my anatomy.
And good, God, I thought. I was beginning to turn into a damn nymphomaniac...
Really, though, it had largely been this way throughout the whole duration of the trip. I don't know if it was the tropical atmosphere, or the exotic locale, or just the simple change in circumstances that did the trick, but something, some glorious, mysterious source, was really keeping me pinned down with sex on the brain at nearly all hours of day. And it wasn't just my husband who was turning me on, either. Half of the male staff at this place looked as though they could reasonably be male models (or fucking escorts, for that matter,) and for me it was the female equivalent of a man being cast onto an island with a bunch of Amazon goddesses. Everywhere I looked, my mind raced toward opportunities for hot, lurid, and mind-blowing sex, every man I passed a candidate for bedding me and pounding me so hard that I cried, and the women, for that matter, not so unattractive in their own rights.
There was one guy in particular I'd noticed on the very first day of our week long stay, and I'd kept encountering him around the island every single day since then. He really got my imagination running, even if for a reason I couldn't immediately place my finger upon, and at some points I felt incredibly guilty for lusting so devilishly after him on what was essentially a second honeymoon with my husband.
The man was a black guy, his skin dark and tantalizing, with penetrating black eyes and a smile that made my heart melt almost as badly as my panties. I tried not to gawk at him for too long, with his thick body and his exquisite features, every single thing about him conspiring together to paint a picture of an absolutely decadent sexpot. And the fact of him being black probably didn't help that much either. I'd always had a bit of a secret thing for black men, and particularly black men who looked like this man did... I'd dated a couple of darker complected gentlemen in college, too, and if it hadn't been for my pasty white husband coming along and sweeping me off my feet, I might have continued to do so to this day.
Suffice it to say, being in this man's presence was something of an unnecessary temptation for me during my time in paradise, but I tried not to let it get to me any more than it had to. I could control myself, after all, and I was a fully grown adult. Although I'm certain he caught me staring unintentionally at him on any number of occasions, I was preoccupied enough on my own without this extra bit of fantasized-about nookie on the side getting in the way.
Frankly, I think the fact that this was my husband and I's first real vacation in God only knows how long contributed to the fact of my almost insatiable libido, because prior to now it was like I could never get a break. On the rare occasion that the two of us were at home at anywhere near the same time, we were both far too exhausted for sex or intimacy, at least past the point of me giving him a tug job beneath the blankets right before bedtime or him massaging my pussy with the vibrator for about ten or fifteen minutes.
We were, quite simply, repressed, and it was like this first break for the two of us in so long somehow served as a sort of great sexual awakening for our marriage. When I wasn't lusting after the resort staff, you could bet your ass I was in some way getting down and dirty with Adam himself, any time of morning, noon, or night. That beautiful bastard just couldn't seem to keep his paws off of me...
And I'm talking, like, multiple times a day we were having sex. We were getting up to levels that neither had experienced since we'd first been dating, and although the two of us were already up to the midpoint of our weeklong outing, it didn't seem as though either of us were showing the least sign whatsoever of slowing down.
For instance, the day before the two of us had been lazing around out on the beach together, him peering out into the ocean, and me lying in a beach chair with sunglasses on, an alcoholic beverage on a tray beside me and a cheap dime store paperback lying open in the sand. Mind you, at this point in time, the air of eroticism hovering over the two of us had become an almost unshakable presence, a haze that never left, and which pleasantly infected every single action in which we partook.
And so, as I lay there in the chair beside him, I was completely aware of the fact that an incredible sexual tension was looming over the scene, and I thought it only suitable that I torment him accordingly with my glazed, nearly naked beach body.
Every so often, while lying in the chair, I shifted my wait, letting the fabric of my bikini slip and slide in tantalizing fashion all over my bones, always looking like it was on the verge of slipping off, yet remaining in place so steadfast that I knew it must be driving him wild.
I could actually begin to feel his lustful bedroom eyes boring into me, and I made a few light whimpers as I adjusted myself yet again, just to get his goat. Then, I allowed my bikini bottom to slide just ever so slightly down along my buttocks, so that the wet crack of my ass came peeking up at him, and at this point I could actually hear him squirming in his chair above the roar of the waves from the discomfort of his erection.
Finally, just to drive the knife in all the why, I undid the straps of my bikini top, lying face down and allowing the thing to fall from my shoulder blades, under the excuse that I wanted to try and avoid tan lines across my back. Then I extended a hand to him with a bottle of sun tan lotion gripped in my fingers, giving him a lurid, tempting little smile, thinking certainly he would pick up easily on the hint I was dropping for him.
And sure enough, he began to apply an abundance of the stuff, slathering me up like a glazed turkey, really putting too much on me in his enthusiasm, so that I had to giggle at the notion of potentially sliding clean out of the chair. But then, the more he touched me, kneading me up and pushing his hands into me, the more and more aroused I became, my nostrils flaring with lust, until at last I could stand no more of his warm, firm touch, and I turned around to face him.
I glared at him with the expression of a damn animal in heat, more than ready to leap up and devour him at a moment's notice. My bikini top, mind you, was now fallen to the sand, and I had my arm over my tits, pressing into them and squeezing them up against my body, in a manner that I knew was driving him wild as he gawked like an idiot at me.
And at last, the two of us could stand the temptation no longer, and we flung our faces onto one another with an almost excessive vehemence. His lips were on mine, his hands framing my face, and I pushed my tongue into his mouth, gouging toward the back of his throat as though with the aim of suffocating the sweet bastard, moaning and whimpering with delight, wishing that I could dissolve in his flesh right there on the spot, and get lost in him forever.
Then, before I knew it, the two of us were stumbling around across the beach, me completely topless at this point, my arm still crossed for dear life over my breasts in fear of getting arrested. Then, however, we decided to wade out into the ocean, under jurisdiction of maritime law, we jokingly assumed, and therefore the restrictions on decency presumably far more lax.
At any rate, the beach around us was deserted enough that we didn't think we would get caught, and so it was that I ended up dipping down beneath the surface, opening my mouth wide, and giving my man an undersea blow job, the saltiest oral sex I'd ever performed, mind you, an act so intimate and so devastating that I could scarcely even believe it had taken place after the fact.
And that was only the first half of the day...
We still had an entire afternoon to kill together in whatever seedy and magical ways we saw fit. Admittedly, the two of us had become fairly experienced day drinkers over the course of our vacation, and so accordingly there was enough alcohol in our systems to get us going at just about any hour of day.
At some point, the two of us found ourselves in a luxurious steam room together, sweating intensely, our breathing hard and hot, and the c
ircumstances just such that eroticism couldn't possibly be far behind at all. The two of us had the entire place to ourselves, and were wearing nothing at all but a couple of towels wrapped around our middles, my nipples just barely concealed and his erection bulging fiercely through the fabric as we leered across the wooden room at our steamy selves.
And suddenly, the next thing you know, the two of us were on one another, wrapped together in each other's arms, making out like newlyweds after so long together, his lips on my neck and his tongue all over me, getting me so worked up I could hardly stand it in my lightheaded arousal.
Then, in as sexy a manner as was humanly possible, he took me from behind, in what might have been one of the most brutal and animalistic fucks I've ever indulged myself in. There was an extra layer of taboo about it from the fact that the two of us kept our damn towels on throughout the entire ordeal, him whipping his cock out from beneath the plush fabric, bending me over, and penetrating me though the opening in his scant wardrobe. He slammed viciously into my bent over body, my hands on the bench as he pushed and heaved into my body, my breasts flying free of the towel as well as he screwed me, swinging like two fleshy pendulums as I tried to suppress my screams of passion.
And then, if that wasn't bad enough, the two of us fucked again upon our return to the room that night, me climbing up on top of him and bouncing up and down on top of his cock like it was a damn pogo stick, our genitals apparently inexhaustible for the extent of our stay, and each hard, wet lay more agonizing than the last.
And in the present that morning, as I reflected fondly on all these encounters, growing hotter and hotter by the minute, I began to feel as though I wanted today's miscellaneous sexual events to start unfolding in as timely a manner as possible.
I gasped suddenly, having hit a sweet spot while fingering myself to these glorious memories, and a shiver of pleasure ran down along my body. It wasn't quite an orgasm, exactly, but a sort of warning flag, a tingling that let me know I was good and ready, and that I couldn't possibly resist the return of my husband's flesh for a moment longer.
I'd let him sleep long enough, I decided, and it was due time for him to get back around to doing his duty of servicing me as I needed to be serviced. I decided to wake him as lightly as I possibly could, easing him into consciousness in as gentle a manner as I could conceive. I put my hand on the side of his slightly wet face, and allowed my fingers to go trickling down along him like raindrops. They slid down along the contours of his skull, following down along his neck, and trickling along his chest.
My palm practically burned as I swept across his sweet abdomen, and as great was the temptation to plunge my fingers beneath the covers and begin masturbating him, I somehow resisted the impulse. Instead, I swept up on top of his bulge and very lightly stroked him through the covers, not abruptly seizing him, but making my presence known.
I looked over at him, in order to gage his reaction, and though his eyes were closed, I could tell he was beginning to stir, twitching lightly, and slight groans of pleasure issuing faintly from his throat.
I took things a step further, then, leaning in, and pressing my lips onto his neck, running hot, wet kisses up and down all along him, savoring the taste of his flesh more than ever in its moist, salty state, craving his tongue on mine, but remaining patient in my efforts at rousing him to consciousness. I allowed my kisses to sweep gently down, down, down, drifting from his neck to his chest, suckling playfully for a moment on his nipple, and sinking my teeth ever so lightly into him.
Then, I worked my way back up to his neck for a bit, then nibbled on his ear, and it was this last bit that finally did the trick of stirring him back to life. Blinking hard into consciousness, he turned very promptly over to me and pulled me into himself, beginning to kiss me as though he'd been waiting around since the night before just to get things rolling once again.
The next thing I knew he was on top of me, kissing more passionately than ever, and holding my body so damn close to him that I thought he might crush me in his grip. I savored the fact of his cock pressed up against me, his erection stiffening with the flow of blood and curving deep against my thigh, so hot and so sumptuous that I thought I might melt right there on the spot.
And as though intuiting my sweet torment, he began to run his kisses down, down, down along my body, sliding from my lips and beginning to suckle on my neck, peeling his tongue up against me, nibbling on my flesh, and causing me to moan with sheer, splendid delight. Down, down, down he trickled, rolling his tongue around me in laps, his head sinking, sinking, sinking, so that my body positively trembled with anticipation for what I knew he had in mind.
His lips were on my breasts now, sucking on them as though nursing on their immensity, rolling his tongue around each nipple and sinking his teeth into them, much as I had done to him, and I whimpered with delight at it, feeling more love at his touch than I could ever recall throughout the entire extent of our marriage.
He smothered himself in my cleavage, and dripped further, further down along me, putting his lips to my navel now, and kissing me passionately there. There was something I found remarkably and splendidly intimate about this act in particular, and my spine began to arch with each lash of his tongue across my flesh, my buttocks clenching and my toes curling as I did my damnedest to stay in control of my senses.
And now, his tongue was sliding down, down, down through the clean-shaven swath of my pubic triangle, his face was angling down between my trembling thighs, and my eyes went wide as I gasped up toward the ceiling. His lips pressed firmly up against those of my twat, and his tongue crept into me, as he sensually kissed my vagina, eating me out in a hot, agonizing manner.
It was almost entirely too much for me to handle first thing in the morning like this, and I felt as though I could cry from the beauty of it as the sensations coursed through my body. He seemed to actually enjoy being so deeply buried in my muff as he was, his nostrils flaring as he snorted and inhaled me, his tongue rolling along through the wet pink folds of my cunt as though it were the most delectable thing he'd ever had the pleasure of consuming.
My pussy was putty in his lips as he sucked and nibbled and allowed his saliva to roll inside me, and my body very transparently displayed the degree of agony to which he was subjecting me with the force of his love. He drilled so deep into my body that I thought he would strike oil in there, and my entire anatomy squirmed and twisted across the sheets in response, my legs wrapping tightly around his bobbing head as he sucked me to my core, pulling him deeper and deeper into myself with every long, wet lap, and the sensations coming to a sweet, splendid head.
I came, hard as hell, bending my body to the ceiling and moaning at the top of my lungs. I thought I might go blind as my nerves flashed with delight and as the sparks flashed yellow before my eyes, pleasure consuming me, knocking me out, almost, first thing in the morning, causing my head to spin so dizzily that I wouldn't have been surprised at all if I'd wound up rolling clean off the bed by the time all was said and done.
And finally, after several agonizing moments of this intense pleasure, I began to recede back from the edge, to drift down, down, down, all the way back down to earth, my body settling back down onto the covers, and my legs unclenching to allow my splendid lover's skull some freedom of movement.
Very slowly, Adam pulled his face from my cunt, the lips of my pussy resettling gently back into their normal state of being as he reeled his mouth away from me, and my breath intense as I struggled to settle back down.
My heart beat like a damn drum as he climbed back up onto me, his hard cock once again sweeping across me as he clambered back along the bed, and the taste of my own pussy on his lips as the two of us continued to kiss an almost heavenly thing.
We made out for some time like this, me all the while enjoying the fact of growing inebriated on his warm, luscious breath as we swapped spit, until at last it dawned on me that, after a performance like that, it would only be polite of me to recipro
cate his efforts...
I pulled away from him, leering into his eyes, and my nostrils continuing to flare, as I hoped to God that he understood the lurid intent behind my actions as I wrapped my hands around his.
He seemed to intuit my meaning plainly enough, and I slowly peeled him up from off of the sheets, the two of us pulling our naked bodies from beneath the balled up blankets, and pacing in the direction of the bathroom.
The hot water of the shower felt absolutely glorious as it came splashing down along our entwined bodies, melting away all the filth of sleep and getting me so worked up with heat that it felt like a repeat of yesterday's steam room incident.
Adam stood behind me for some time, his arms looped tightly around my abdomen, pulling me close into himself, and kissing my neck sensually from behind. I closed my eyes, and allowed the sensations to course through me as he did so, wrapping my arms around his neck, and savoring the feeling of his long, hard shaft being ground up and down between the crack of my ass, not penetrating me, just resting there, squeezing in and out, and causing my thighs to tremble with want as the moments ticked along.
At some point, his hands slid upward, and he cupped my breasts in his grip. His fingers dug deep, deep, deep into my flesh, causing me to moan with passion, and the occasional squeezing of my nipples causing my head to spin wildly.
Finally, after so much of this, it seemed to verge on cruel that I wasn't repaying his favor of oral sex, and when at last his touch grew too sweet for me to withstand, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories) Page 55