Allie's Crucible

Allie's Crucible

The thong that changed everything.

Thanks to P_A_Solcroft, an awesome editor who helped me improve this story. Any mistakes you see are all mine.

How often are momentous decisions made over fish tacos? That's what happened at lunch today, after years of discussion, Rachael and I agreed to open up our twenty-five year marriage. To stretch our boundaries, physical and emotional.

But seconds after the agreement, I had been a mess as nightmare outcomes ignited my imagination, and with wanton images running through my head, doubts had attacked me for the first time. Was it safe to embrace the adventure and play relationship craps, guts tumbling with the dice, afraid of a seven? Maybe something else worried me, too. Would I be sitting at home, unable to find a partner, while Rachael bed-hopped the nights away? It was probably all of that and a lot more.

That was when Rachael had grasped my hand and squeezed it saying, "I know we only made this decision fifteen seconds ago, but we can change our minds." She has always able to read my expression. Her mouth had tilted in a slight smile, no doubt concerned about me but also amused as hell by my discomfort. After all, I had been the one moving us to this decision over the years.

While considering the out she offered, it didn't help that I'd caught sight of myself in Rachael's sunglasses. My sandy brown hair, a touch too long, beginning to curl at the ends. Formerly lean and wiry, I now sported a dad bod after years of her gourmet cooking and too many nights drinking beer watching soccer instead of playing. It struck me again for the millionth time, how I'd married up. She was better looking now than in her younger days. Somehow curvier, yet more tone. The accountant and the women's fashion designer. Sitting there, I had giggled out loud. Our reality, it still made me laugh.

Regarding the decision, I'd shaken my head. I was committed for better or for worse. Time to man-up. "I'm in," I had blurted as I tried to shape my face into a brave expression. That had made her laugh. She always knows.

After toasting the next phase of our marriage, I had said, "It might be months or years before anything happens." We had to agree in advance. It had to be right for both of us.

Four hours later, Allie, a willowy twenty-something, swimsuit bottoms crumpled at her feet, stood before me as I fingered her juicy cunt. Breathy whimpers emerged Allie's mouth as her lips caressed my cheek.

Completely unexpected. And I submit, the best experiences are the unexpected. Seven minutes earlier, my wife had squinted at the sunlight glinting off Zihuatanejo Bay far below as she waited at the resort's front desk behind Allie's boyfriend, Hugh.

But it was at the pool where everything started. The hot afternoon had buzzed with conversations from several groups trying to stay cool - one of those alcohol-fueled, social frenzies of mostly middle-aged and elderly snowbirds, continuously shifting members. A common scene in tropical climes with swim-up bars. Except for me. I played the voyeur most of the time, book in hand. Sunglasses had hidden my eyes as they scanned the sun dappled pool while my ears caught mundane snippets here and there.

Rachael tapped her toe trying to hurry Hugh. Allie had abandoned Hugh and walked away but only got halfway to the stairs before she turned and called to him. He was recounting the end of a hockey game between two backwater Canadian clubs, too drunk to realize the señores manning the desk didn't care. Their bored expressions alternated with anxious glances at the line forming behind Hugh. Allie, now farther away, called Hugh again, but his story continued. I walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Your girlfriend wants you," I said and pointed towards her, and I meant it. Despite his obliviousness, it was obvious she wanted him. Whether horniness or love or alcohol, or whatever, who could say. Sporadic, longing glances back at Hugh and shuffling feet gave her away, so I interceded. I believe Allie and I held a similar outlook. What was the priority here - retelling a story to two apathetic listeners working a busy front desk or fucking your girlfriend?

After a quick glance at Allie, he tossed her a casual, "Soon, babe." Then back to his story.

I turned toward Allie and shrugged. Allie sagged a fraction and nodded, mouthing a silent, glum 'thank you'.

A fully-formed plan blossomed in my mind.

Stepping behind Hugh, I whirled and strode toward my wife whose eyes widened as an "Uh, oh," escaped her pouty lips. Rachael distracted me - her beauty, face suffused with pink that would turn golden brown the next day, hair in a casual bun to ward off the heat, the hourglass figure framed in a close-fitting sundress. I kissed her. The plan was dying as I sank into her cobalt- blue eyes. Why didn't I anticipate today's decision would also cause angst? Sure, we'd discussed it for years, but I hadn't understood that a simple but significant change to our relationship rules would be emotional too. I love Rachael. I always believed that while I might be sharing my body mate, us as soulmates was permanent, inviolable. After all, we'd each shared our bodies with many others before marriage, but neither of us had ever had another soulmate. We weren't bored with our lives. Just one aspect. Some couples could survive with less than frequent electric couplings. Not us.

No way to know unless you roll those dice. I whispered a few words in Rachael's ear: the test. She glanced at Hugh and leaned back to view Allie's form climbing the stairs to the upper rooms. Allie looked one last time for Hugh following her. No luck, and she disappeared into the maze of the hillside stairs before I turned to Rachael.

In seconds, Rachael's expressions communicated a TED-talk's- worth of content. She flicked her eyes toward the horizon, worried my hijinks would cause us to miss the sunset at Puerta del Sol, our dinner spot. Her forehead scrunched for a moment. Translation: are we really doing this?

"Just ten?" Her arching eyebrow suggested otherwise.

I nodded, meeting her eyes before I looked toward the stairs. Catching Allie was more uncertain by the second.

"In the spirit of this afternoon's pact," Rachael paused as her mouth formed a scheming smile. "Go." She glanced at her phone, and I did the same with my watch. As I turned to leave, her parting words put a hitch in my step, "The boring days are officially over."

God, I loved that adventuresome, audacious woman. Clueless Hugh had no idea who was about to hit him.

I hustled across the circular driveway, past the fountain, and hit the stairs. Allie had a head start, but I was moving faster. Rounding each corner, I longed for the sight of her perfect rear. It was the apricot-thong-clad-ass that had sparked my interest three hours ago. I sling-shotted around the first flight. No butt, so I tore up the next flight. Turning the next corner, I arrived just as a naked buttock and long, slim leg disappeared. Though I'd been coming to this resort for years, I'd never seen one at the pool, but this carefree Canuck had thrown tradition into the bay and donned a thong bottom. God bless her.

At the top of the next flight, a door straight ahead clicked shut. Following my light knock, the door opened, and I pushed in. Allie didn't look in my direction, intent on emptying her pool bag.

"Allie?"

At the strange voice, she straightened and looked at me. Allie must have recognized me from our silent conversation downstairs. After all, she didn't scream. But her eyes were questioning. Maybe she thought I was there to deliver a message? She stood in the room, relaxed, no sign of concern. Her eyes moved slowly, but she appeared in control of her faculties.

I felt sweat break out from every pore. Not from the heat, or the dash up the stairs, but the risk. This moment held the most peril. Would she allow me to take the next step? I would never force her, but a misunderstanding would land me in a Mexican prison for assaulting a woman half my age.

I brushed her lightly-freckled arm. "You're in need. Let me help.

She glanced at the door, before her eyes returned to mine. "I have a boyfriend."

"Hugh is occupied." I glanced at my wrist. "For the next eight minutes."

Allie considered me. "Then," she stepped in my direction, her feet pale against the adobe-colored tile floor. "Are we on schedule?" She said it with the cutest Canadian pronunciation sounding like 'shedule'. She smiled. For me, it was getting serious.

Our eyes were at the same level, but I broke the contact, walking slowly around her. Heat radiated from her skin.

"Take off your bottoms," I said.

These were the bottoms that every man, gay and straight, and more than a few women had eyeballed in the pool. Apricot with hints of dusky rose, a suggestion of the flesh beneath. When I'd arrived at the pool that afternoon, she was seated on the end of a chaise lounge facing away from me. The suit bottoms rode her rear like the panties my wife wore. How wondrous, I'd thought. For an hour that was all I'd seen -- an athletic build and the upper reaches of a bare, slim butt cheek. Allie had exited at some point without my noticing. Later, I'd glimpsed her return and the sight had scrambled my mind. Instead of curving over the tops of her thighs, the front of the suit didn't come close to her legs or hip bone. The high-cut leg left barely an inch of material over her pussy and it ascended at that width for several inches. As a lady friend at the pool observed, "Full Brazilian," in equal measures of admiration and jealousy.

Allie leaned in to me, mouth open. Her breath bore the rummy signature of a Pina Colada as her wide, brown eyes locked on mine. Damp fabric fell across my toes. Ten minutes ago she'd stood in the pool. Ten minutes . . . Better pick up the pace.

I kicked the bottoms to the side. A lock of sun-bleached hair hung in front of her ear which I brushed back. Allie responded with a quick intake of breath. I lowered my hand and grazed her taut tush. Her breath caught. At her hip, I slowed, caressing its length. As Allie shivered, I shivered at her side, faced with the quandary of making this experience last as long as possible and an external clock I couldn't pause. I rubbed the bulge in my trunks.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Though already touching her, I was confident she knew what I meant.

An instant, raspy "yes" emerged. I refused to rush and crested the point of her hip. Not nearly as prominent as Rachael's, but variety is one spice of life. Allie prepared for me by shifting her legs wider.

Contact. She jerked at the light touch on a sensitive spot then gulped an enormous breath and blew it out. Her eyes scrunched tight. My fingers grazed Allie's pussy lips, bare, prominent and slippery. Full Brazilian, confirmed. Before I was ready, my finger slipped inside. She moaned and rocked then grabbed my arm tightly and held it in place.

The seconds slipped by as we held our breaths. Allie clenching my finger was the only discernible movement.

I withdrew my finger inducing a whimper, her eyes open, defiant. She watched as I brought the digit to my mouth and relished her musky nectar.

Perhaps she knew what was coming. Before storms unleash, a handful of drops spill from the heavens. They slam into the pavement to warn us. In the same way, Allie's desire dropped to the tile. With nostrils flaring, Allie grabbed my hand and guided it to her pussy, but I twisted away.

"Take off your top," I commanded.

She hesitated. The outdoor world intruded as far away conversations slid between the louvered, bi-fold doors fronting the terrace.

"Do it and I'll touch you."

Her chest jutted out. Small breasts covered by the apricot material brushed my side. She released the clasp and quickly shrugged out of it.

I avoided her clit and entrance. Ran a finger along her inner lips. Allie shifted her hips, searching for the path that led me inside. In I slipped, added a second digit then scooped as much of her essence as possible and iced Allie's nipple, frosting it like a cake. She tilted her face toward the ceiling, thrusting her chest forward with back bowed. Her moan rumbled through the room.

A quick glance at my watch as another drop hit the floor before I re-plugged the dam. I leaned down and took the glazed nipple in my mouth. Allie sucked in air. The human lollipop filled my mouth. It was broad and long, a Mount Fujiyama nipple. Excited dots greeted my tongue along its border as Allie's nectar ran down my finger, over my hand to my wrist until, adhesion spent, it dropped to the floor.

"Let down your hair."

No hesitation. She released a clip and flung it across the room, then shook her head like a wild beast, hair flung in a circle. I mimicked the whipping hair, my finger circling inside her. Allie lurched, then she grabbed the back of my head and returned my mouth to her glistening peak.

If only this could continue for hours, followed by an all-night fuck, but my time had run out. I pressed my thumb to her clit. She went rigid, before I removed the pressure. She tried to return it, but I swept the hand behind my back. Allie's leaned her forehead against, and breathed in short gasps.

"Time's up," I said, then whispered instructions in her ear. She hurried to the bed and lay down, legs splayed, before jamming two fingers into her sodden cunt. They jackhammered in and out.

The hand that I'd had in Allie was now in my mouth, sucking every drop when the keycard lock clicked, and the door opened. I backed into the bathroom immediately behind me and hugged the wall. Hugh, board shorts tented, rushed past. I tiptoed to the front door in his wake, and slipped through, listening as I swung it shut.

"Allie, a cougar attacked —." His slurred voice cut-off. "Oh my God, what are you doing?"

"Shut up and fuck me." It was a keening, desperate voice, peppered with urgent squeaks. Not surprising since I'd told Allie she was not to come before Hugh was inside her. I grinned at her 'shut-up' ad lib.

Though Hugh was too drunk to notice anything other than the lurid sight before him, I was cautious latching the door. (The real exposure risk, Hugh slipping on Allie's puddle, had passed.) But even if he did hear me, what was he going to do - chase me with shorts around his ankles, down a path where he might encounter the prowling cougar once more? Even Hugh's decision-making had to be sounder than that.

I walked down the stairs. My hand shook on the rail from the adrenaline rocketing through my body. One flight down, I found Rachael. She wore a cat-who-ate-the-canary-grin while leaning against the wall.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Mission accomplished." I smiled - no beamed - and rearranged my erection.

Rachael's eyebrow raised in question, but what was she expecting in ten minutes with someone I'd never met. "I may have done more than you," she said nervously.

"As long as you had fun," I said kissing her cheek, "I'm sure you were perfect. I want to hear all the details."

"I expect you'll be most titillated," she replied before dropping a wet kiss on my lips and pressing the world's best tits into my side. I took her hand for the ten minute stroll to the Puerta del Sol, equally eager and nervous.