Tara & Steve Ch. 05

byAugustMacGregor©

Yeah, I want to do the things that Tara teased me about. Every single one. Fuck the blonde's tits. Fuck her pussy. Fire my cum between her jugs, hit her throat. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

A wife knows.

And this wife knows how hard her husband can fuck her. Tara's face is frowning, almost pained looking. But it isn't pain. Far from it. It feels so good. How do I know? Because she tells me over and over how good it feels, her dirty talk spills out, demanding that I pound her harder and harder, with her legs scissored 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.

So here's yet another comparison to the Strathmore Club. At the Club, members swim in the pool naked all the time. The water feels so nice, no annoying bathing suit in the way. Sometimes, when you're standing in the pool, someone grabs your ass. Or gives your package a friendly squeeze. Of course, you return the favor to other members, too.

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.

So we're within the Lujuria's rules by being naked in the Caribbean Sea. However, I'm not sure about what Tara, Ayana, and I are doing. We're up to our stomachs in the sea. Tara and the bartender are kissing energetically. The bartender is clearly into Tara, just as Tara is obviously into her. They've been kissing for a while.

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 plain as day.

It's a hard fact to take. I want to fuck her. I want to be inside of her and thrust and see her face look up at me with pleasure written all over it. I want to roll around the sand with Tara and Ayana and plunge my cock into both of them, over and over, making them groan. 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, plain as day.

What's obvious is that Ayana is really into my wife. They're mad for each other. The way they're kissing. Hands all over each other.

Disappointed as I am, I also feel happy for Tara. She's found someone she's passionate about. Someone who reciprocates that feeling. I've seen her make those connections Strathmore.

I'm still jealous, though. 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. Boner swaying with my steps. Should I jerk off, relieve my desire? No, don't, I tell myself. Save yourself for Tara. Later, she might want some cock. She usually does after being with a woman.

We've had Claire over to our apartment several times. Ah, Claire. The gorgeous redhead who joined Tara and me for Valentine's day. Our fire didn't fade with many other threesomes we've had together. Every time, Tara and Claire had some one on one time while I watched. And then they wanted my cock afterward. I gave it to both of them for as long as I could last. Which could be a long time with my marathon boners. Although, I never lasted very long when they treated me with two-woman blowjobs.

Now on the beach, I figure that Tara will yearn for my dick later.

Until then, 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 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? Nah. This ain't Strathmore. I've made countless comparisons between here and that Club. It's hard not to do that. When Tara and I spent weekends there, they felt like vacations away from our routine and into a fantasy land.

I walk by the couple in the sea. They notice me, then embrace and stifle their laughter into giggles. 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 boy 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: I'd plunge my dick into her, over and over, feeling her luscious body underneath me. And she'd cry out to the sky with loud announcements of how good it feels, my big hard wondrous cock. I'd fuck her like mad, squeeze those jugs.

Hey, a guy can dream, right?

And I keep dreaming as I walk the shore. Dream about the blonde and Julie Exocrine and many different women whom I screwed back at Strathmore and our apartment.

We had invited swinging friends to our apartment for dinner and sex. Never more than two—only single ladies and couples. Faces swirled in my imagination. People we met at Strathmore who became great friends. We've had amazing times.

Fire.

Bam! I'm jolted out of my little stroll down memory lane.

Fire? I blink to make sense of it. My eyes had been used to darkness and the sliver of moon and 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. Between Lujuria and now, there were only palm trees and plants next to the beach. But now, there are buildings of another resort. Buildings and people. People sit 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. That's it.

I stop in my tracks and size up my situation. They can't see me. I'm hidden in the thick cloak of darkness. 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. 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 come 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 those hot pieces of ass? Did they imagine humping them or getting humped?

After all, a beach is a celebration of flesh. Even if everyone's wearing some piece of clothing. With bikinis and swimsuits, enough flesh is there to delight you and tease you about the hidden naughty bits. But not very well hidden, not with tight little suits showing cock bulges and string bikinis showing plenty of cleavage and ass cheeks.

And all that gives plenty of material for fantasies and jealousies.

I admit it to myself: I'm jealous of Tara. She's busy having fun with someone she lusted after. And I'm sitting in the darkness spying on a bunch of tourists having a great time around a camp fire on the beach.

But I'll have my turn. I smile at a mental image of Blondie sliding her hands over her jugs and squeezing them. Nipples poke between her fingers. Her tongue licks her lips.

Yeah, I'll have my turn. Now, it's time to head back.

As I walk, I smile as I think of my vision of an orgy around the fire on the beach. Clearly, my swinging experiences have affected my imagination.

The trip back is much quicker. Seems that way, at least. After the stretch of tropical plants and beach, I see the lights and buildings of Lujuria. I look for silhouettes in the sea. None. A patting sound makes me turn the other way. On the edge of the beach, just before the garden starts, are silhouettes laying on the sand. The top silhouette seems to be humping the bottom one. Looks like missionary fucking.

So they're not Tara and Ayana—unless a guy happened by and is now tagging one of the ladies. Or one of them produced a dildo. But I'm guessing not. I left the two ladies further down the beach.

The top silhouette stops humping and lays flat. Now it's one big silhouette. They heard me or saw me. I don't want to ruin their fun, so I walk faster away.

I make it to the pathway that leads to the pool. Ah, there they are. Two sitting silhouettes. The figures become more detailed as I get closer.

"Hi honey," Tara says to me. Her face is radiant. "We were worried that you were going to walk around the whole island."

Ayana simply smiles. She's just as radiant as my wife.

"Nah," I say. "Just a little stroll. How about we head back to our room?"

"Not for me," Ayana replies. "Sorry, mon, but I'm just not into men. No hard feelings, okay?"

"Ah, that's okay," I say. "No hard feelings." I'm disappointed, though.


"I'm gonna head off," Ayana says. "Leave you two to your honeymoon thing." She turns to Tara and says, "Sweetheart, you're sweeter than rum. My goodness, girl, you're a ninja with that tongue of yours." She kisses my wife, stands, and turns to me. "You've got an amazing wife. You better treat her right."

I say, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"You two have fun. And don't make too much noise out here. Don't want any one to catch you in the act."

"There's another couple down the beach already going at it," I say. "So we'll try to be quiet."

Ayana nods and takes off.

"Another couple, huh?" Tara asks. "Did you join them? Since you walked away hard." She checks out my soft cock.

I reply, "I thought about it. But you weren't around. And this is our honeymoon, remember?"

"Well, thank you for giving me time with Ayana. She was yummy good. But now, I need some cock." She scoots to me and swallows all of my soft noodle. Gently sucks, then lets me go. "You didn't jerk off on your walk, did you?"

"Nope."

She swallows my hardening dick again, sucks, releases me. "You didn't find some cute bikini chick and bang her, did you?"

"Nope."

Another deep throat and release. I'm stiff as a surfboard now. "Then you have plenty left for me. 'Cause I need this in my pussy. Deep and hard, baby."

"Let's go back to our room. The beach feels a little crowded with that other couple."

"But I need you now." She sucks me again.

My mind races for possible places. Behind bushes? In the sea? In the outside showers? Perfect. Between the beach and pool are a series of outside shower stalls. Their walls are white wooden slats. Can't see through them. They'd be empty now.

A shower stall is perfect. Tara and I slip into one, lock the door behind us. We hang our robes and beach towel on hooks. She sits on the bench, gives me head for a few more seconds, gets me as hard as possible. Then she stands, turns, and bends over.

My wife has doggy on the mind.

I'm happy to oblige her unspoken request. I'm relieved to sink my hard-on into her pussy. All that pent-up lust from caressing Tara and Ayana, then talking a walk with my boner in the breeze and my thoughts stuck on fucking.

Relief had begun when Tara took me in her mouth, but she had let me go. Now I'm deep in her cunt that's fantastically wet and hot. My wife has a fucking steamy ocean between her legs. And I'm diving deep, pumping my cock as deep as it can go.

We try to be quiet. Low breaths are shoved out of us. The loudest sound is the pat-patting of my skin against hers. I could go slower, be quieter. But no fucking way. Not after swinging a frustrated boner down the beach. I need this pussy. Need it bad.

Thankfully, I don't have one of my marathon endurance sessions. Since beginning our swinging adventures, I often have had a hard-on that lasts a long time. You could chalk it up to sex with multiple partners. Chalk it up the Strathmore Club's All Day Woody smoothies that I drank at every visit. Chalk it up to more exercise, healthy foods, and vitamins. Mostly, I loved these marathon sessions. I could thrust into Tara, Julie, Trisha, Ashley, and many other Strathmore hotties for good, long time. We'd be sweaty and exhausted by the time I came. A wonderful exhausted.

But a marathon boner doesn't happen this time. My orgasm is a huge wave of relief. Spurt after spurt, it feels magnificent. Bliss washes over me, from my balls to my toes and head. After I finish spurting, I slip out of Tara's glowing sea of a pussy. She straightens up, turns, and kisses me.

"I so needed that," she whispers. "I was so fucking wet."

"Yeah," I grin. "I could tell."

She giggles.

"Ayana got you all worked up," I say. "You guys had a good time."

"Sure did. But I just had a good time with this hot cock." She pets my slippery soft noodle. "Now it's your turn. Tomorrow's your pick, hubbie."

* * * * *

She knows. I swear she knows what I'm thinking. But how can that be?


During the morning, the busty blonde has glanced at me and caught me watching her. I've been observing her too intently, I bet. Not only did she not seem to mind, she looks to enjoy it. She likes an audience.

She dispensed with her bikini top a while ago. Might as well not even have worn it to the pool. She drizzles suntan oil on her boobs and rubs it in. Making sure that I'm watching. No winks or licking lips. She rubs the oil all over her body, taking her sweet time doing it. Her boyfriend gets her back, and her eyes dart over to me.

Tara, lounging next to me, picks up on the whole thing. "She's got you wrapped around her finger," she says.

"Not this one," I reply, pinching my wedding band and moving it in a circle.

"Good to know."

I break my study of the blonde and look at my wife. "Are you sure about this? Now that we're married?"

Her eyes brighten. "You're so nice to say that." A pause as she looks at me. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. This is our last bang. After this, we're on a life together."

"Think we'll miss it?"

"Who knows? We won't know until a while. And right now, you've got a woman to seduce." Tara looks over at the blonde and says, "Although, I don't think you'll have to work very hard."

"And her boyfriend?"

My wife grins. "Oh, he's been checking me out. I've got a pretty sweet bod, in case you didn't know."

"Yeah, I found that out last night. Outside shower, remember? I was the one behind you, plowing into you."

"I thought that was you. Felt like your cock."

I love our banter. I love that we still have fun while our clothes are still on.

Ayana gives me a big smile when I arrive at the bar. I don't need to be a mind reader to tell what she's thinking about. There's a new sparkle in her eyes. Could be my imagination, but I think the service was faster. Before, Ayana was on island time—the drinks took their time getting to you. But this morning, they were a bit speedier.

That very cute brunette is at the pool, too. With quick glances, I've been watching her. Not as obviously as with Blondie. If Tara has caught on to my glances at Cute Brunette, she hasn't said anything.

I fire a quick look at the brunette and my mind freezes for a moment. Which one should I go to? Tara's expecting Blondie. But Cute Brunette has intrigued me since I saw her on our first day at the resort. There's something about her. Not obvious, like Blondie's jugs. Maybe her ass—firm and tight—that's caught my eye and got my lust going. It's not that easy, though. There's something more. I can't put my finger on it.

A decision must be made. After my second of being frozen, I'm done.

Blondie doesn't look surprised at me approaching with two drinks. Her muscular boyfriend looks guarded. Alpha male is wary when competition arises. I easily avoid staring at her bare tits, instead giving the happy couple eye contact. I've had tons of experience from Strathmore.

"Hi there," I say. "I wanted to offer you some drinks, in case you haven't tried the orange-mango juice here."

"Uh, no I haven't," boyfriend says.

"It's unbelievable. Freshest I've ever had. Here." I offer the tall glass in each hand."

"Aww," Blondie says, "Aren't you a sweetheart?"

I fall immediately in love with her Southern accent. Thick and syrupy. She takes a juice glass. Boyfriend still looks guarded.

"Hey, no problem," I say. "I brought these to you guys because my wife and I ... that's her over there." I point with my thumb over to Tara, who gives us a wave. Blondie waves back. "Well, my wife and I were wondering if you'd like to have dinner with us tonight."

"Why, that sounds nice," Blondie replies, then turns to her boyfriend. "What do you think, sugah? Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, it does." Guy's cautious, and I don't blame him. He doesn't know me.

"Great," I say. "By the way, my name's Steve. We're in from Florida."

We shake hands, and they introduce ourselves. Savannah and Luke. They say they're from Georgia. Luke takes the second glass of juice off my hands.

Savannah takes a drink of the fruit juice and says, "Oh, now this is good. I just love sweet juice. No liquor? Where's the fun in that?"

With that wicked grin, is she talking about the orange-mango when she said she loves sweet juice?

"Nope, no liquor," I reply. "I figured it was a bit early in the morning for that."

"Oh, sweetheart, we're on vacation. Not too early for that. I was just thinkin' about a daiquiri." That wicked grin returns. "Or a sex on the beach."

Wait. Were Savannah and Luke the silhouettes on the beach I saw last night? Better not ask—seems too forward.

"Um, well," I stammer, "I could go get one of those, if you like."

"Oh, no, sugah, you're such a sweetheart. I don't wanna put you out more. Hey, how 'bout we head to the beach? Why wait for dinner? You go get your pretty wife over there and we'll hang out on the beach. Whaddaya say?"

Tara totally called it. I didn't work hard at all. This seduction was a walk in the park. Or beach. I tell her that it's a great idea, and we'll meet up. Luke nods.

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