Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers
Page 30
And now, it’s time to test the water of Tara’s plan. To possibly put things more in balance, from her point of view. It’s a shift, and I’m very curious as to how events will play out.
“I’m going to give it a shot,” Tara says. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Mrs. Morgan.” Also an odd thing to wish your wife luck in trying to pick up a woman.
The busty blonde snags my attention by laughing at something her boyfriend (or husband) says. They’re still sitting side by side on the edge of the pool.
“She’s totally your pick,” Tara throws at me before she goes to the bar for another juice and to proposition the bartender.
Funny that Blondie isn’t really my first pick, but the woman I looked at first—the one in the shoulder-length light brown hair wearing a chocolate-colored swimsuit today.
But Tara gets to go first. As she walks, topless and with her tight ass in her striped bikini bottoms, the audience’s attention shifts from Blondie to Tara.
Except for me. I’m still checking out the busty blonde.
And she sees me looking at her. Instead of swiftly moving my head since she caught me, I hold my gaze on her.
Then she surprises me. She slides her hands over her boobs. Palms down, they slide from her collarbone, down the slope of her ripe melons. When her hands reach the bottoms of the swells, she squeezes her tits. Her nipples poke from between her fingers.
It’s hard to tell if she’s doing this to me. Her eyes are hidden behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. But she’s certainly looking my way.
Her boyfriend (or husband) is too busy looking at my wife’s ass to notice Blondie’s friskiness.
How do I reply? Impulsively, I pull my waistband up and over my erection. Bare it to the world.
Her reaction is priceless. Her jaw drops. Now I know she was directing her tease to me.
I flip my bathing suit back over my boner. He’s not happy at all about being covered back up. He wants to play with those new toys over there. Don’t worry, buddy, you’ll get your chance—at least with Tara. Not so sure about Miss Big Tits.
My flashing her is over in a second. A literal flash, it happens so quickly.
Nobody else sees me. At least, I don’t think they do. They’re all distracted by Tara’s hot ass. Blondie’s jaw recovers, and her lips curl into a big smile. Then she air kisses me.
And, bam, my first pick is cemented.
*****
“So, you wanna fuck that blonde’s tits, huh?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
I can’t lie to her. We’re past that. Tara plays this game sometimes. Teasing me. Relishing that I’m so predictable. That I’m putty around great tits. She looks up at me with a smirk and an eyebrow raised.
My dick’s between her tits. My wife’s tits. And she’s asking me this question. A total tease!
When Tara returned from the bar to me in my lounge chair by the pool, she handed me the refilled juice and smiled like it was her birthday. “Success,” she said. “The bartender will meet us tonight. On the beach.”
“That’s my girl,” I said. “Got a hook-up already.”
Tara drank in my tented bathing suit. I tried to hide it from the rest of the pool area by holding an open magazine in front of it. But my wife laying next to me could see it.
“Ah, I see you’ve been watching that blonde,” Tara said.
I admitted to what happened while she was gone, of Blondie feeling herself up and me flashing her. Like I’ve said before, there’s no hiding between us. Tara wasn’t surprised. Not after the things she’s seen at Strathmore.
“Yeah, she’s my first pick,” I said.
Again, Tara wasn’t surprised. “What did I tell you? A wife knows. C’mon, let’s get back to the room.”
I knew what that meant. We left the pool area, with me holding our beach bag in front of me—an attempt to hide the big tent I was pitching. The blonde and her man watched us go. The blonde smiled at us. I smiled back.
Back in our room, Tara slid down my bathing suit. My erection sprang to freedom. She stroked me, pulled me to the bed, where she sat on the edge, and gave me a few sucks. Lubricant for her own titty-fuck. Then she started her little taunting game.
“So, you wanna feel her big tits against your cock?” Tara says. She pushes her tits against my cock that’s between them. She slowly slides her boobs up and down.
“Mmm-hmm,” I reply, enjoying my dick between my wife’s tits. Blondie can wait. “And I bet you want to get it on with that muscle dude.”
Tara smiles, looks a little sheepish. “Yeah, I kinda do. Okay, maybe more than kinda. Maybe I miss Strathmore more than I thought. Not all of it, of course. But I miss parts of it. You know, like the people we became really good friends with. Not just fucking them, of course, but hanging out. Talking about everything under the sun. Laughing together. Yeah, I miss that.”
She still moves her boobs up and down as she gets all of this out.
“Wow,” I say. “This just went in a direction I didn’t think it was going to.”
“But we have to talk about it.” Tara replies. “We have to be open and honest, like we’ve been to get through it all. This is us stepping back into the water one last time.”
“Yeah, I agree. It’s just odd talking about it while you’re fucking me with your tits.”
She laughs. “Isn’t it, though? But we’re not an ordinary couple.”
“Hardly. And you’re so damn sexy down there, fucking me with your beautiful tits.”
Which makes her beam. “You keep talking like that, I’m gonna let you give me a pearl necklace.”
“Another one? Haven’t I given you enough jewelry? Engagement ring, wedding ring, necklaces?”
“You know I love those rings,” Tara says. “And I love your pearl necklaces. It’s so fucking hot when you do that. Your face gets all blissed-out, it’s wonderful.”
Fuck, I love how my wife talks. “It is wonderful, Mrs. Morgan.”
She keeps right on talking and moving her breasts: “And that’s what you want to do to that blonde, don’t you? You want to come while you’re between her big tits, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I groan.
“You wanna spurt your come so hard, you hit her in the face, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I groan, my voice getting weaker.
“And you want to fuck her so hard, her big boobs bounce all over the place, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” I’m weaker still.
“Of course you do. And, yeah, part of me wants that muscle dude on top of me. Feeling those hard muscles. Thrusting his cock into me. I have to admit it, baby. I can’t help it.” She stops her tit-fuck, and she looks up at me with eyes brimming with emotion. “I know I made us leave Strathmore, but I admit that I want to fuck that guy. Just like you want to fuck that blonde. And I’m sorry for that. Because part of me feels like a hypocrite for saying that, for wanting him. I know we’ve been through a lot, and now we’re married, and I want to put things back in balance for you. But what you said that night was true. We still lust after other people. It’s acting on it that makes all the difference. We’ve acted on our lust many times at Strathmore. And I want to get it out of our system. We’ll always be turned on by someone else. But for one last time, one last big bang, let’s act on it.”
Congratulations, Mrs. Morgan. You’ve dumbfounded me once again.
I picked my jaw off the floor, so I could talk. “Wanting him doesn’t make you a hypocrite. It makes you human. Yeah, he’s a hot guy. I can see why you want him. You don’t have to just want me.”
I step back, pulling my cock out of the embrace of her boobs. She’s staring at me, a rapt audience, just like I was for her.
I continue: “So, yeah, let’s act on our lusts one last time. Go out with a bang.”
I gently push her back, sending her to lie on the bed. I spread her legs. She intently watches every move.
I climb on top of her and slide my throbbing cock inside her wonderful, warm pussy.
She rests her hands on my cheeks, warmth on my face. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. Do you know that?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Because there’s nobody else I could be this honest with. Absolutely nobody. I’m glad I met you. I’m glad you asked me marry you. I’m glad you understand me so much. That you listen and understand. I’m glad I set up this trip. I want us to get back into balance, and then we can live the rest of our lives. If you need to pound the fuck out of that blonde, then do it. Fuck her tits like mad. Fuck her pussy like mad. Get it all of out of you. Because then we get home. Then we love each other like mad.”
I’m still sliding my dick in her, but I’m hardly fucking like mad. It’s a tender lovemaking that’s far from furious and desperate. I lean down and kiss her. Kiss her in the same way that I’m moving inside of her: loving and tender and wonderful.
“I love you,” I say, my voice soft like hers. “I love you so fucking much, too. You’re the one I trust completely. Your honesty, your openness, it’s connected us like I’ve never felt before.”
“Not just mine. Your honesty and openness, too.”
“Yes. Together,” I say. “I’ve never felt this close to anyone. And I never want to with anyone else.”
“Me neither. We’re soulmates. You’re it.” A tear slides from the corner of her eye, down her skin, to her ear.
“And you’re it for me.”
“Except for this trip.” She gives me a little smile and looks at me for a long moment before whispering, “Now give me that cock. Give it to me like you want to give it to that blonde. Show me what you want to do to her.”
“No. Right now, I want to make love to my wife.”
I reach down and rub her erect little clitoris that’s buzzing with excitement. My cock is motionless, just taking a rest inside her wet warmth.
It doesn’t take very long for her to sing to the ceiling. She looks deep into my eyes as the orgasm washes through her, and she bursts out with loud moans. Our sliding glass door to the balcony is closed, so the people outside won’t hear her.
But I want Blondie to hear. I envision her hearing Tara in the throes of ecstasy and looking up, in the direction of our room. I want her to imagine what I’m doing to my wife. Imagine me doing that to her.
Yeah, I want to do the things that Tara teased me about. Every single one. I want to fuck the blonde’s tits. Fuck her madly and watch her big tits flop all around. Fire my come between her jugs and hit her throat. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
A wife knows.
And this wife knows how her husband can make love to her. Tara’s face is frowning, almost pained looking. But it isn’t from pain. Far from it. This feels amazing to her. How do I know that? Because she tells me that over and over, and she demands that I fuck her harder, that I no longer give her gentle lovemaking, but that I give it to her hard. Her legs scissor around my waist, pulling me in, encouraging my hips to keep thrusting, filling her pussy with this cock that she loves.
This cock that she’s now married to.
*****
Skinny dipping feels so wickedly good.
Yet another comparison to Strathmore. At the club, members swim in the pool naked all the time. The water feels really nice without an annoying bathing suit in the way.
Here at Lujuria, skinny dipping feels more wicked. The rules here: topless is okay at the pool and complete nakedness is okay on the beach.
However, absolutely no public sex is allowed.
We’re within the Lujuria’s rules by being naked in the Caribbean Sea. However, I’m not sure about how that public sex rule applies to what Tara, Ayana, and I are doing. We’re up to our stomachs in the sea. Tara and Ayana the bartender are kissing energetically. Ayana is clearly into Tara, just as Tara is obviously into her. They’ve been kissing for awhile.
And what about me? I’ve been caressing them both. Running my hands over their backs, cupping the swells of their asses. Now and then slipping my hands between them.
Ayana’s dark skin glistens in the moonlight. There’s a crescent moon that provides some light. Ayana’s skin looks like an onyx flecked with water drops. Highly polished, it shines with a smooth luster. She’s got a great body, just as Tara had predicted.
But she’s not really into me. It’s as plain as day.
It’s a hard fact to take. I want to fuck her. I want to roll around the sand with Tara and Ayana and plunge my cock into both of them, making them groan. And I want to watch them take turns sucking each other’s nipples and licking each other’s pussy. I want a magnificent threesome on the beach with explosive orgasms.
But that’s not going to happen. Like I said, as plain as day.
What’s obvious is that Ayana is really into my wife, but she’s not into me. Disappointed as I am, I also feel happy for Tara. She’s found someone she’s passionate about—and who reciprocates that feeling. Both parts don’t exactly happen all of the time.
I’m still jealous, too. Experienced swingers have told me that it never fully goes away. Even after years of swinging. It’s natural, they said. So, I’ve got a small tang of jealousy and a big wash of happiness for my wife’s pleasure.
Then, feeling as a big dud, I leave the water and take a walk on the beach, with my hard-on swaying with my steps. Should I jerk off and relieve my desire? No, I tell myself, don’t do it. Save yourself for Tara. Later, she might want your cock.
But until Tara and Ayana are done, I’m on my own. Hey, things could be worse. I’m certainly not in a horrible situation. I’m at a tropical resort on a honeymoon with my hot wife!
Just look at all this. Warm night air. Gentle breezes. Waves rolling in, spreading water on my feet. Reggae music wafting from the bar that’s next to the pool. The bar where Ayana tended earlier today.
Laughter comes from ahead of me. I can make out silhouettes of people in the water. The silhouettes look to be another couple having fun out there. I hope they’re naked. Swimsuits are too boring for this situation.
Should I join them? Wade out to them and introduce myself, Mr. Boner, and ask to join their little party? No way. This isn’t Strathmore. And from the conversations Tara and I have had, I need to step lightly with our last bang of swinging. I can’t exactly jump into another couple or woman without talking about it first with my wife.
As I walk by the couple in the sea, they notice me, then embrace and giggle. I mentally wish them great sex and carry onward.
Wouldn’t it be amazing to run into the busty blonde?
What if my walk turns into a scene from one of those romantic comedy movies? Blondie has had an argument with her boyfriend. Muscle dude says something dumb, maybe something about her brazenness, and that she should tone it down, not expose herself, that he’s the only one who can witness those wondrous hooters. She gets mad, says he doesn’t own her. Her body is her own, not his! She storms off, heads to the beach. Where she runs into me.
I would say, “Hey, aren’t you that beautiful woman at the pool? The one with the wondrous hooters?”
And she would say, “Why, yes, that’s me. They are wondrous hooters, aren’t they? You’re the hot guy with the big dick.”
And I would say, “Why, yes, that’s me. Let’s get it on. Right here. Right now.”
And she would say, “I thought you’d never ask.”
And we would get it on. Right here on the sand. Waves rolling in, water tickling our skin. True, romantic movie style. Then shift to porno style, with me pounding her pussy and her crying out to the night sky about how good my cock feels. All the while, I’d squeeze and suck those wondrous hooters.
Hey, a guy can dream, right? I keep dreaming as I walk the shore, dreaming about Blondie and Julie. An old toy and hopefully a new one.
I’m jolted out of my little stroll down memory lane by fire. Fire? I blink to make sense of it. My eyes have gotten used to darkness and the sliver of moon and the stars. Now there’s fire. A camp fire. A bit ahead of me is a camp fire on the beach.
The scene falls into place. I’ve made it to another resort’s beach. Between Lujuria and where I’m standing, there were only palm trees and plants next to the beach. But now, there are buildings of another resort. Buildings and people. People sitting in a circle around a camp fire. Their faces are brightened by the flickering fire. They’re laughing, talking, eating. Having a grand time.
They’re clothed. Not a naked one in the bunch. Me, I’m buck naked. Only a wedding ring on.
I stop in my tracks and size up my situation. They can’t see me. I’m hidden in the thick cloak of darkness, as I’m well beyond the circle of light given by the fire.
Should I join them?
For an instant, I envision jumping into their fire circle and dancing around and shouting, “Give me your women! Bring them to me! I will show you how to please them!”
I nearly burst out laughing at my own demented thought. Then my imagination shifts to all of us engaged in a wild, crazed bacchanal. We’re naked and decorated with tribal paint. We prance around the fire and fuck like animals. We toss back rum straight from the bottle. We howl to the stars. We’re primal and lusty.
The fantasy makes me smile. It’s clearly inspired by all those weekends at Strathmore.
I sit on the sand—cool on my butt. I watch these people. Me, the well-hidden spy. I find myself wondering who they are, where they are visiting from. What did they do today? Did they go windsurfing or snorkeling? Simply lay on the beach and take dips in the sea? Did they check out hot pieces of ass? Did they fantasize about fucking those hot pieces of ass?
After all, a beach is a celebration of flesh. Even on a beach where clothing is required. Because, with bikinis and swimsuits, there’s enough flesh to delight you and tease you about the hidden naughty bits. Well, not very well hidden—not with tight swimsuits showing dick bulges and string bikinis showing plenty of cleavage and ass cheeks. All that hot flesh gives plenty of material for fantasies.