tagGroup SexTara & Steve Ch. 05

Tara & Steve Ch. 05

byAugustMacGregor©

Tara & Steve Ch. 05: Honeymoon Drama

Tara looks amazing in a bikini. But then, she nearly always looks amazing. She looks amazing in lingerie. Or wearing a nice dress and with that swooped-up hairstyle she does when we go out to a fancy restaurant. Or in tight gym shorts and sports bra when she works out. Or in jeans and a t-shirt on a lazy Sunday.

People's eyes follow her as she walks out of the pool. She pauses for a second to adjust her bikini bottom. Men around the pool probably wish they could've done that for her. Help her with that bikini that covers her ass so nice and tight and wet. Dripping, Tara walks to her lounge chair. Eyes follow her. They're so obvious. Men ogling the bikini babe.

Tara pats her face with a towel. Then she kicks it up a notch. She tugs the strap of her bikini top, popping the knot undone. Just like that, she's topless.

Men gawk. Oblivious to their girlfriends or wives nudging them in the ribs.

Tara's not oblivious. She knows the reaction she's getting. She smiles with closed eyes as she settles back in the lounge chair. Soaking up the Caribbean sunshine along with the lust of her audience.

What would these people do at the Strathmore Club? Tara's just one rack. This is a topless pool in an adults-only tropical resort. Tara's the first one to throw down the gauntlet and go topless today. Late morning is typical when the first boobs come out. Every time, men gawk their appreciation.

These gawkers would love the Strathmore. Not just one nice set of tits, but a crowd of them. Tits and asses and dicks. All out in the open as members swim in the pool, lounge in the sun, eat healthy foods, bonk a volleyball, hit golf balls. Oh, and let's not forget the fucking. Lots of fucking. All out in the open.

That guy over there, sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. Grinning at his wife or girlfriend who is swimming. His margarita glass resting on the ground next to him. Here, he's simply enjoying a pool scene.

But at Strathmore, he'd be getting a blowjob. It's a common practice at that fantasy land. Guy or chick sits on the pool's edge and gets head from a guy or chick in the pool. Happens all the time there. Tara's done it to me, as have other hotties. It's so fucking beautiful. Of course, I've returned the favor many times. To Tara and other babes. Given them the chance to sit on the edge and get their minds blown. Evie Stevie.

Yeah, I know exactly how these gawkers would act at Strathmore. The same as I did at my first time there. The Club defies imagination. It's a paradise for pleasure and good health. All safe behind a strong gate. All private behind tall walls and shrubs.

After being members for a couple years, Tara and I were still in awe about the place. When we went there on weekends, it was a vacation away from reality. All our day-to-day cares vanished. Work stress was relieved. Those weekends were two days of exercise, sex, and healthy food. We were replenished when Sunday evening rolled around. That's when, back in our apartment, we talked about the weekend and marveled about our little vacation in pleasure paradise.

And now, we're thinking about not renewing our membership.

It feels strange to imagine. The Club had become a big part of our lives. How quickly and easily we got into the swing of going to Strathmore and banging each other in public—and banging other people. I'm sure we'll miss it. How could we not? Maybe we'll drop in from time to time, revisit the paradise.

I climb out of the pool, sensing some attention from ladies around the pool. Since being in the Club, my body has become more muscular. All that exercising and good food has paid off. Don't get me wrong—I'm not a huge bodybuilder. But I have put on a bit of muscle, thanks to Strathmore.

When I reach my lounge chair next to Tara, I say, "Well, Mrs. Morgan, you've created quite a stir around here with those great tits of yours."

Tara grins at me. "Well, Mr. Morgan, they're not staring at my boobs. They're staring at your butt. Hot piece of ass that you are."

I have an urge to jump on top of her, pound her right here. But we're not at Strathmore. This resort's pool is merely topless, not a sex club. I need to calm myself.

Tara offers me a glass of orange-mango juice and says, "Here, cool yourself down, Mr. Morgan. I know what you're thinking."

"How do you know that? You don't know what I'm thinking." I take the juice, and it's wonderfully sweet.

"A wife knows, Mr. Morgan. A wife knows."

Wife. That word is still strange to hear. As is Mrs. Morgan. Even when I say it. But I'm sure I'll get used those words. After all, it's only been five days. Five days? Really? That's all? Feels longer somehow. Maybe that's because of the momentous event. It's not every day that a man gets married.

"What, that word scares you?" Tara has a big, open-mouthed grin. Goading me.

I'm quick to reply. "Hardly, Mrs. Morgan. Wife doesn't scare me. I was simply trying to cool myself down. As my wife instructed me to. And if you're not careful, I may fill that mouth with something big and juicy."

"A hot dog?"

"Bigger. Juicier."

Tara laughs. "I thought I didn't have to do that anymore. Now that we're married, I'm all done." She slides her hands together, as if dusting off dirt. "Washed my hands clean of blowjobs."

"Funny. I swore I saw you sucking my dick this morning."

"Oh, you were dreaming."

"Then I hope I have that dream every night."

Tara laughs again. "Keep dreaming, pal. You're not getting that every night. Or every morning. We don't live at Strathmore."

"Do you miss it?" I ask.

Tara's face shifts to a more thoughtful expression. "No, not right now. Not while I'm here with you."

"Will you miss it later?"

She shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe." She looks over at the pool, surveys the people around it, the restaurant, and the few hotel buildings beyond thick tropical foliage. "But right now, I don't care. Don't care at all. I'm on my honeymoon with my hot husband. Nothing else matters."

My turn to grin. "Funny. I'm here on my honeymoon with my hot wife. Imagine that."

"Oh, I can imagine that. Easily."

We lean together and kiss tenderly. The kiss, her lips, feels so good. Kissing her has not lost any of its charms. Our first kiss on our first date had electric exhilaration. Our kiss at our wedding ceremony held deep love.

Speaking of looking amazing. Tara had looked amazing in her wedding gown. She blew me away when she walked down the aisle. Yeah, I had jitters. What groom doesn't? But my jitters were tiny flutters compared to marveling at her beauty.

And then she looked amazing in white lingerie that night. She kept it on as we fucked like crazy. Finally, we were rid of guests and their well wishes, rid of worries about the wedding moving smoothly. Our wedding night sex was fiery hot, sweaty, and savage.

The morning after our wedding, we made love. Our tender, sensual love came in. We took our time to enjoy each other and express our love. Plenty of time to take a long shower together, pack, and make it to the airport for our plane to Lujuria, a resort in Jamaica.

Tara says something that zips me from my memory back to the present.

"Huh?" I ask.

"I said that I've found your pick," Tara says.

Reflexively, I look over at a brunette soaking up the sun. Shoulder-length brunette hair. Golden strands here and there. Irrepressibly cute face. The kind of cute face you know would be quick to smile and laugh and look so sweetly good as it gazes up at you above her. She has on a one-piece swimsuit today, chocolate brown with light green circles. But she's worn bikinis on previous days. Nice tits. An ass so firm and tight, you dream about holding it while banging her.

"My pick?" I ask my wife, whisking my attention to her. "Think you found her, huh?"

"Yep. Blondie over there." Tara nods her head toward across the pool. It's more subtle than pointing. "Blondie now presenting for everybody."

I follow the direction of Tara's head nod to see a blonde woman tossing something on her lounge chair. I'm guessing it was her bikini top, because she's topless. Before, she was wearing a bright pink bikini top. I had enjoyed seeing the swells of her cleavage. But now, her girls are out to play. Well, not to play. That's Strathmore Club talk. This blonde's tits are out for display.

They're a set of great melons. Not as nice as Julie Exocrine's, though. It's not nice to compare. I know, I know. Seeing a pair of ripe tits makes me think of Julie. I had lusted after Julie's boobs for years, and once I held them and fucked them, it was a huge event. That memory still replays often in my head. After joining Strathmore, I've enjoyed Julie's tits many times. Still, that first time had seared into my mind. The feeling of her plump tits hugging my dick as I fucked them. The look on Julie's face. The look on Tara's face as she held Julie's tits for me. Then my cum spurting up. Damn, it was spectacular.

Comparisons aside, Blondie there across the pool has a great pair. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to knock down her knockers.

"How do you know she's my pick?" I ask Tara, smiling at my reaction. She's told me before that I get loopy when I see great tits.

"A wife knows, Mr. Morgan. A wife knows."

"Well, she does have some good things going for her."

"You're thinking about titty-fucking her, aren't you?" Tara's smile turns into more of a smirk. Is she jealous? Maybe. But she's seen me fuck Julie's tits—and other women's tits before.

"Let's just say that I wouldn't turn it down if it were offered to me." I have to admit it. No use hiding.

"We'll have to see if she offers it. I'd like to have fun them, too."

I love hearing Tara's desire for other women. At Strathmore, she had been with lots of other women, and I loved to see Tara suck on nipples and eat out a babe.

I watch the busty blonde walk to Lujuria's pool and sit on the edge. She soaks in the sun and everyone's admiration. Just as Tara had done. The blonde fully knows that she's the center of attention. Her jugs are in the figurative spotlight. Guys all around are gawking.

I notice that Blondie has tan lines. Not that her jugs are lily white. But there's a difference from the flesh of her tits to the rest of her tanned skin. Maybe the blonde went to a tanning salon before going on vacation here at Lujuria?

I haven't realized this before. Members of the Strathmore Club don't have tan lines. Tara's tits are the same color as the rest of her skin. As members, we were in our birthday suits getting tanned by the Florida sunshine.

So, in the rest of the world, people have tan lines. And they gawk.

Blondie across the pool has long, straight hair. She wears cool sunglasses. A tall guy walks toward her. He's tall and muscular. Bigger muscles than mine. Now the women around the pool are gawking. Including Tara.

"Now I see why you're interested in that couple," I say.

Tara has a little grin as she turns to me and says, "Well, he is nicely built. Reminds me of Alex, but taller."

Alex works at Strathmore as the handyman. On top of that, he's quite handy with ladies. Nicely built, yeah. Women love his muscles. And he can pull off standing positions: standing 69 and cradling a babe as she bounces on his dick. Tara's enjoyed both of those. I can pull off the positions just for a little bit—not as long as Alex.

"Yeah, you're right," Tara admits. Like I said, no use in hiding. "A husband knows, huh?"

"Sometimes."

She looks mischievous. "But he's not my pick."

"Who then?" I ask.

"The bartender."

"Really? Day shift or night shift?"

"Day. She's so fucking hot."

I picture the bartender. She's a Jamaican babe who's always ready with a funny saying. And she's hot. Sparkling, intelligent eyes. Strong cheekbones. Long hair in tightly woven braids.

I can see why Tara picks her. No surprise that she picks a woman over a man. She's attracted to both. And then, if I pick that busty blonde over there, Tara will get to enjoy that tall, muscular dude. My wife plays the game well.

"Then let's do it tonight," I say. "Are you ready?"

A sweet smile. "Yeah, I think I am. I've totally loved our time. The bartender will be a small step for us. But let's be honest, okay? If either of us aren't into it, let's stop. Let's go back to just us."

"Deal," I reply, and we shake on it.

You see, we wanted to be into just each other for the beginning of our honeymoon. We wanted to celebrate our wedding and love—and so make love to only each other for the first several days. Our honeymoon suite has seen a lot of action. On our big, cushy bed. In the hot tub. In our luxury shower.

Our favorite spot has been the balcony. Ever since arriving at the resort, we've fucked every night on our balcony. Partition walls separate our balcony from our neighbors. The view is phenomenal. Immediately before us is the grounds of the resort. To the right is the pool area. Beyond is the beach. And beyond that, the Caribbean Sea stretches forever.

The sunsets are magical. The pinks, purples, and reds all blend together as the sun lowers below the sea's horizon. As we watch this show of nature's beauty, we rejoice in each other's beauty.

Our first night, Tara had bent over, holding the railing. Behind her, I licked her pussy and asshole. Once her moans soared toward the setting sun, I stood and entered her doggystyle, plowing into her sweet poon. Both of us watched the sunset in awe. We tried to keep our voices down, but I bet our moans, grunts, and slapping skin carried to other balconies and down to the grounds of the resort. Another time, I sat on the chair as Tara rode my lap, facing away from me. Reverse cowgirl. The next night was oral sex, with one of us sitting on the chair while the other munched away.

Our lovemaking carried over into mornings as I put my morning wood to good use. Sometimes, we had nooners as we took a break from the pool to return to our room and fuck like silly.

But it wasn't all sex. We took day trips to play tourists. Explored around Jamaica. We found it to be beautiful, vibrant, colorful, richly alive. Amid that were places of obvious poverty. We contributed how we could through the local economy by purchasing local merchandise and eating at restaurants. The food was spectacular—fresh, flavor, delicious.

When we planned our honeymoon, we kept it open that we may eventually want to fit it a little swinging. It was an option, not mandatory. Our honeymoon could be our last swim in the swinging pool. We had decided not to renew our membership to Strathmore. We figured that we'd focus on our new life together. Look into buying a house. See what happens after that. The second half of our honeymoon could be the cap on a fun swinging adventure, then we would move on.

But who's to say that will keep? I feast my eyes on the curvy blonde as she laughs at something her boyfriend/husband says. Who knows if we decide down the road to dip into the swinging pool again? At some point, we may want to spice it up with another woman or couple.

Ah, that's down the road. This is now. And now Tara gets the first pick. There she goes to the bar to get another juice and proposition the bartender.

As she goes, with her tight ass in her striped bikini bottoms. The audience around the pool shifts from the blonde to Tara with her bare jiggling tits and hot ass.

Blondie looks my way and slides her hands over her boobs. Palms down, they slide from her collarbone, down the slope of her ripe melons. At the bottom of the swells, her hands squeeze her tits. Nipples poke from between her fingers. She air kisses toward me.

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.

How do I reply? I impulsively pull my waistband up and over my erection. Bare it to the world. Stroke my cock.

Her reaction is priceless. Her jaw drops. Now I know she was directing her tease to me.

Bam, I flip my bathing suit back over my boner. Cover the bad boy up. He's not happy at all. He wants to keep playing. Don't worry, buddy, you'll get your time. You've been very busy during the honeymoon so far—and that's not about to change.

Nobody else sees me. At least, I don't think they do. They're all distracted by Tara's jiggling tits and ass—and Blondie's tit squeeze. Nobody else sees a dude on the side quickly flash his cock.

Blondie's jaw recovers, and her lips shift to a big smile. Then she licks her lips.

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. Taunting me. Relishing that I'm so predictable. That I'm putty around a great rack. She looks up at me mischievously. My dick's between her tits. My wife's tits.

When Tara had returned to me, pool side, with a refilled juice, she 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 had tried to hide it from the rest of the pool area by holding an open magazine in front of it.

"Mmm," Tara purred. "You've been watching that blonde."

I admitted to my flashing the blonde and stroking my boner. Like I said, no hiding. 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. She nodded and said, "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. Another 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 yanked down my bathing suit. My boner sprang to freedom. She stroked me, pulled me to the bed, where she sat 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 between them. Slides them up and down.

"Mmm-hmm," I reply. Enjoying my dick between my wife's tits. Blondie can wait. "And I bet you wanna feel that muscle dude pound you."

Tara smiles. She likes me pushing back. "Yep," she says. "I want to feel him on top of me. I want to feel his hard muscles. I want to feel his dick inside me. And I want to see you fuck that blonde. Fuck her tits. Fuck her so hard that her big boobs bounce all over."

God, I love how my wife talks. "Plan on it, Mrs. Morgan."

"Good. And I bet you want to cum between her tits, don't you?" She keeps pushing her tits against me, sliding them against my shaft.

"Yeah."

"You wanna spurt up, hit her in the face?"

"Okay," I reply. "That's enough."

I step back, plucking my cock out of the embrace of her boobs. I gently push her back, send her onto her back. Spread her legs. Dive my throbbing boner between them.

"Right now," I say, "I wanna pound the fuck out of my wife."

She runs her hands over my chest. Before I pound, I rub her erect little clitoris, buzzing with excitement. My schlong is inside her, motionless, feeling her moist love cave. Doesn't take very long for her to sing to the ceiling. She holds her tits, rubs her nipples, squinches her eyes tight, and bursts out with loud groans. Our sliding glass door is closed so the people outside won't hear.

But, as I began to pound her, 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.

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