The Cayman Proxy (Box One): An Erotic Hotwife Box Set

by KT Morrison

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be up in a minute,” he said and put his mask on again and floated back out, hovering over the coral. He still felt hard and he sure didn’t want to stand up in front of them with the tip of his dick pressing out the front of his wet shorts.

  Kate liked catching Omar’s eye out there. She’d caught him looking. It would have been odd if he hadn’t. He knew what this was about and her swim wear was very revealing. It was nice to feel lusted after.

  She watched him drink his beer, his thick-fingered mechanic’s hand making the bottle look small. He wasn’t even really that big of a guy. Smaller than Mitch, shorter, slim-hipped. He was fit, wasn’t he?

  Omar talked to Mitch, sounded like something to do with race cars. She watched him talk, listened to his accent, watched the flash of his dark blue eyes.

  Izzy came and cleaned up their dishes and collected their bottles. Rod had called from his phone and a local had shown up in a little motorboat with some fresh caught bonefish. He’d split them right there and cooked them and they’d eaten them with a spicy pepper sauce.

  Mitch looked happy, sleepy eyed. They would head back now, but it was still early afternoon. They had some time to kill before it was night. They had dinner reservations at six. And then after that? Her heart rate quickened at the thought. This was crazy, right?

  6

  Euro Style

  Mitch watched a group of kids run by, weaving through the crowds around the pool. Next trip was going to be adults only. Find a place that didn’t let families in or make sure to get a villa or a private residence. Kate had booked this one in a flash when everyone’s schedule came together. Guess it was short notice and she couldn’t find a place that was more adult-oriented. Or maybe it just didn’t occur to her. Didn’t occur to her, hell. Kids.

  Kiley was back up in the suite taking a nap. Too much sun and wine. Omar was out in the pool. Playing volleyball, or water polo or something, with a bunch of twenty-year olds. Boy, he found friends fast. White teeth smiling out there, his French really came out in his trash talking. He might have spoke English well, but when he had to rush to a ball, reach out and knock it back, barely making it, just off the tips of his fingers, he made noises that just sounded French. Funny how a grunt or a one syllable yell could have an accent.

  Kate was reading, he looked at her on the white lounge chair next to him, her legs stretched out to get some sun. She had her wet hair combed back spreading across her shoulders. Reading through big, black sunglasses. Her top, God, when did she start wearing bikinis, could barely hold her breasts up. It attracted one’s attention that’s for sure. A lot of glances over, these kid’s dads, those twenty-year olds, and yeah, of course Omar.

  Omar was saying something to the twenty-year olds, they were calling him back, he was getting out. Mitch looked over at Kate, thinking he’d get her out of here, maybe go sit at the bar. She was looking out over the top of her sunglasses.

  “Kate,” he said to the side of her head but she didn’t hear him. “Hey, Kate.”

  She was looking over at Omar getting out of the pool. Omar was standing at the edge, water splashing off him onto the concrete, tan body, white trunks. He felt a little mad about it, but hell, this thing was already under way wasn’t it? This was part of the deal.

  “Hey Kate, let's go grab a drink.” Nothing. C’mon, love.

  “How’s the water?” Kate said to Omar. Not in Kate’s voice. Some other flirty, small-talk Kate.

  Omar was drying that close crop of hair on his head with a big, white hotel towel. He said something into the terrycloth but Mitch missed it. Those were some short-shorts this guy was wearing. Real Euro style. Then he saw what Kate had been looking at.

  Not a bulge, like something suspended in a pouch, but a clear outline of his enormous cock and his balls mashed down the leg of the trunks. He looked at Kate, yeah, that’s what she was doing, looking right at it.

  Omar came up to them stood on the far side of Kate’s lounger, said something about having fun out there, asking what she was drinking. Standing right there next to her, giving her this unavoidable display of his disgusting manhood. Had to be on purpose.

  She handed him her drink, fruity-red daiquiri something, and he used her straw. Kate was looking point-blank at this fat thing down his trunk leg. Hip-cocked, pressing it against the fabric for her, knowing she was looking, just a foot and a half from her face.

  Fucking drink it in, Kate, he thought as his stomach knotted. He felt like he was going to be sick. Just throw up all over himself in the sunshine in front of all these happy people. Don’t these people have problems? Fuck’s sake. He sat up, seriously fighting back an urge to vomit. His face went red, he could feel his neck go hot. He had to get out of there.

  He tossed his e-reader on the lounger and did that, just got the hell out of there. He heard Kate call after him but he kept walking. He looked at his hands, saw them shaking.

  Kate found him standing at a bar on the far side of the resort, smoking a cigarette under the tiki roof. This wasn’t good. She came up behind him and he half-turned his head at the sound of her flip-flops, but he didn’t make eye contact.

  He gripped a glass of whisky.

  She put her hand on his back, “What are you doing, big guy?”

  “It’s off Kate, it’s off.” Not even looking at her. Talking to the bar.

  “What the fuck, Mitch…” she said.

  “Did you see that?” He was mad.

  “What?” Even though she knew.

  “C'mon,” he said, but she just stared back at him, waiting, eyes hidden behind her big black Ray-bans, not giving anything away. “Kate, I was watching you fucking stare at it. I was watching you.”

  “His package?” Well, here it was.

  “He has a fucking horse cock, Kate.” He did at that. She had not missed it.

  Mitch said, “There's...I can't, there's just no fucking way,” whisky glass tapping out the syllables of the last three words against the wooden bar.

  She looked at the bartender’s back as he shook a strainer, martini glass in front of some tourist on the other side. Who drinks a martini in this heat? It’s the middle of the day for Christ’s sake.

  “Mitch, we wanted this, we've come so far…” she didn’t know how to do this. Thought it would come up but didn’t think he’d be so upset. Two middle aged guys came up next to them and ordered some beers.

  She got up close to him, “What does it matter how big his dick is?”

  “It matters,” he said up into the tiki roof. Too loud.

  “I love you. This is just fun, it's just sex.”

  “Not with him, sweetheart,” he left her at the bar and headed up some stone steps that led back to the hotel. She caught up with him, and held onto his wrist.

  “Please, Mitch, hold on.” He turned and looked down at her. She moved to the side for a wide old woman trying to get past them, her grandkids behind her.

  “It has to be. C’mon, Mitch. We’ve come all this way, everything is in line, how will we find another time to—”

  “What, you really want that big dick, don’t you?”

  She looked over the top of her glasses at him. Too loud, Mitch. What was he trying to do, talking like this in public?

  “Mitch, c’mon.”

  “You do, don’t you?”

  For fuck’s sake, anyone they swapped with was bound to be bigger. But she couldn’t say that. She wouldn’t say that. “I don't not want it.”

  “Wait, you knew,” he said, and like that he was on to her. Mitch the barrister.

  She waited.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “You knew he had that?” he said, bobbing his head to get eye contact. He wanted verification.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy fuck,” he said and sat himself down on the step. “That’s why you want to fuck him?”

  She shrugged, looked out at the hazy ocean, a boat pulling a parasail.

  “How did you even know...I mean, you
've never met him. Did she tell you, Oh, my boyfriend has a huge dick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She did? What did you tell her? Did you tell her I have a small dick?”

  “Mitch, no.”

  “What? I mean, I just...I can't…”

  “Mitch, listen, I love you and you’re more than enough for me. I’m head over heels for you. It’s not that at all—”

  “My dick too small to fill up that big wizard’s sleeve?”

  Fuck this. Fuck this. “Fuck you, Mitch, that’s really shitty.” She bit her lip and nodded her head, mad now. Slap-slapping a flip-flop on the bottom of her foot with her toes. “Yes, I knew he had a big dick. Yes, that’s why I want to swing with him for fuck’s sake.”

  “Yeah, holy shit,” throwing up his arms.

  “I don't want to swap just so I can be with any other guy, yeah? I love you, Mitch. It’s you and me in this. We're together through thick and thin. That won’t change. But I can't help it if sometimes—just sometimes Mitch—I want something, I don’t know, a little…more…down there.” That hurt him. That got him. But truth was, she did love him, and there was something she didn’t get from him. But how do you explain that? The need to be filled. Just thinking it seemed so vulgar. “And what does it matter anyway? If we're doing this then you’re fucking someone and someone is going to fuck me. There's going to be another dick in me. You were okay with that. Why do you care what shape it is, how big it is? He’s uncircumcised too, is that a concern? Why would any of that even matter to you?”

  She knew he had a lot more to say. Why it mattered. She had more to say. Nicer things too. She didn’t want to fight. But she wasn’t going to do this here. Not in front of these people. She told him she’d be back in the room and left him there sitting on the steps.

  7

  Pretences

  He’d been in locker rooms before, he wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard he didn’t exactly have the biggest dick. Hell, he’d been told quite directly that he was too small by a girlfriend once. He got shoved naked out of the boy’s room one time after football and heard a girl in the crowd say to her friend, He’s covering it with one hand.

  At thirty-one he’d just sort of not cared anymore. Kate never said a thing. Sure, some positions were pretty hard. But they made do. He thought they did.

  This was like a fucking knife in him. Teen years played out all over again. Fuck her for making him feel like that. Made him want to scream out at the stupid tropical night.

  He was sitting in the sand somewhere along Seven Mile, he wasn’t sure how far, but he’d been walking a good long while. It was dark now but the sky was still lit up in purple, pink-orange where it met the water, couples out strolling, hands held. How many of them had been about to do something disgusting tonight. They all looked so innocent. Goddamnit.

  The pragmatist within him said to hear what Kate had said to him. To really listen to her. Did he love Kate? Yes. Most importantly, did he trust Kate? Yes, he did. He felt sure she’d never cheated on him. Knew it. But she’s telling him she needed something. Something he couldn’t provide.

  A little subterfuge in her facilitation, though. For sure. He imagined that would be to spare his feelings. Okay. Do you disregard that she felt she needed something? No, he should listen. But that would fucking require him letting her get fucked by that thing he saw in Omar’s trunks. See, this was where he was truly stuck.

  She was right though, he’d been okay with a swap before that, and truthfully was pretty excited about getting his hands on Kiley. That was true. So the hurdle was size. But Kate’s only interest in a swap was size it sounded like.

  That really dug in. Inadequacy. He couldn’t do it for her. He felt that scream want to come out again.

  He considered why he’d never asked her about this other man in the foursome. He’d not really thought about it, sort of pushed it away. Maybe deep down he never thought about the guy who would put his prick in his wife because he kind of didn’t want to face the fact that he might be big. But he could feel a thought, very deep down, toyed with it like the frayed edge of a book corner. Maybe in some sort of way, for Kate’s sake, he had hoped it would be big.

  Mitch never showed up back at the room. Kate had changed into pyjamas and waited on the couch for him. Now it was completely black out.

  She was so worried. The thought of having hurt him was killing her. The way she left him on those stairs. They never fought. Not really. Not like her parents had. But she’d sworn that that was not the way she was going to be. Mitch was so level-headed, so easy-going, they only had bad moods, never any fights.

  And it was her selfishness. Her weird desire that had done this. She could give that all up if it meant he wasn’t hurt.

  God, why had she started this? It was crazy.

  But that cock. She’d seen it today, flaccid but so large, tucked down his leg.

  She’d already seen it. That wasn’t something she was going to tell Mitch now was it. That Kiley had sent her a photo, maybe a year ago. Grainy, cell phone, a picture Omar had sent to Kiley. Disembodied and grotesquely large, erect, reflected in a mirror resting on some bathroom sink. Kate texted, wtf is that? Kiley replied, new boyfriend, a banana, current mood: and a screaming face emoji. Kiley had no way to know that picture would linger with Kate. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. Now she wished she’d had. This morning she’d been so ecstatic, all the hurdles cleared for this insane endeavour, they were on their way, then that guy had to show it off.

  She heard a chirp and the magnetic lock buzz. She stood up, worried. Mitch came in quietly through the double doors, said Hey.

  “Hey,” she said back. She stood on one bare leg, the other still bent up on the couch. Just wearing her big shirt, hoping to look as gentle and kind towards him as she felt. She wanted to go to him, hug him, make it better but the thought of him pushing her away made her too fearful.

  He scratched his ear with the key card then went to the bar and poured a drink.

  “Mitch,” she said.

  “Hold on,” he held up a hand as he poured, then took a sip.

  “Kate, we can’t lie, yeah?”

  “I know,” she said. “Please, just come here,” she didn’t want to cry, wasn’t going to, but she hated the feeling that not everything about them was in the right place.

  He came over and kissed her and put his arms around her and held her without saying anything. She just squeezed him and felt him breathing.

  “I don’t want this,” she said. “Can we just go home?” And she meant it in that moment, the disgrace she felt, disgust.

  “I want to do this,” he said.

  “I don’t Mitch, not any more. I did, I really did, but I just—this whole thing feels so wrong now, it’s making me sick.”

  They sat down across from each other for a while, looking down at the empty glasses on the low table between them. “Something made you put all this together and I don’t think that’s going to go away.”

  That was true. She felt that. “I don’t want to do something that’ll hurt you, Mitch.”

  “I know. I feel like maybe you had hidden something from me. That you tricked me into this. False pretences and all that. I feel like you left me out of a lot of this. This threesome that became a foursome? It was always going to be a foursome.” He was a smart one.

  He lifted his empty whisky glass and cocked his arm, looking to hurl it through a glass display case across from them, seemed as if he would, but shook his head and put it back down. Not mad, just frustrated. She took it from him and set it on the table and climbed into his lap.

  “That’s the part that I really don’t like,” he said to her, close up. “I get why you want what you want. I don’t like it. I hate it, but I do want it for you. I want this for you because you want it. I don’t know why. But I’m okay with it. Just no more lies.”

  She agreed but she didn’t tell him about the picture that Kiley sent and how it made her crazy. Sh
e told him that Kiley really was into this, wanted to be with him but she didn’t tell him that she had told Kiley that sometimes she thought Mitch was too small and she wasn’t always satisfied. That the two of them had arranged this little get-together for the sole purpose of Kate's desire. She didn’t tell him that she asked whatever happened to the guy whose picture she’d sent because Omar and Kiley weren’t really a couple any more. They had split up quite a while ago. She didn’t tell him that Omar was only there specifically because of what she knew was between his legs.

  She couldn’t tell him. It would hurt him that she could be so deceitful, and she had that feeling back in her stomach, and she just wanted this done and over so she could stop thinking about it.

  8

  Submarine

  Mitch took them out the next morning in the Jeep and they all had breakfast in Rum Point. It was early but the parking was already almost full and the place was getting pretty lively.

  The diner was a little yellow-painted bungalow at the edge of the beach, ten tables and packed, everyone there for the coconut bakes and fresh papaya and lime that you couldn’t avoid hearing about. It had a thatch roof and a surfboard at the door even though nobody surfed around there, but the rum barrels on the boardwalk out front under the Casaurina trees made the place a bit more authentic.

  Omar had left the table before the bill came, before the plates were cleared, and Kiley and Kate were talking to each other, whispering in the noisy little room. He watched them talk, serious faces. He reached across and took Kate’s hand and Kiley looked over at him.

  “We should get going, we need to get to the port.”

  “Yeah, let’s hit the loo,” Kiley said, standing, nodding to Kate.