Let's Just Dive Right In

I first recognized her when I saw her leg tattoo. She had a multicolored sketch of dragon lilies along her right thigh, which I could clearly see since she was wearing black, skin-tight boyshort swimsuit bottoms. She was standing on a wooden dock, under a cloudless blue sky, staring down at her cell phone in a pair of mirrored sunglasses. I had never seen her tattoo before, but I knew she had a tattoo of flowers on her leg from chatting with her online. The only photo I had ever seen of her was of her face, she was wearing the same dark sunglasses and had a nose ring. As I walked closer, I recognized her face, but I already knew it was her.

She was an olive-skinned Spanish beauty, with long dark brown hair that had lightened due to a lot of time spent outdoors out on Hawaii's crystal clear waters. She had an athlete's build, with thick, muscular legs and well-defined arms. In addition to the boyshorts that barely covered her firm ass, she was wearing a black wetsuit vest that exposed just enough of her midsection that you could see her pierced belly button.

"Hi, you must be Cristina," I said, and extended my hand, but she ignored my hand and pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek. "Um, nice to meet you."

"Me too!" She smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm originally from Argentina, this is how we greet." I had actually known she was from Argentina, we had talked about it, but I wasn't expecting to be kissed as soon as I met her. However, I did have hopes of doing much more than just kissing later in the day after we finished our scuba diving trip.

We had been communicating for weeks on a dating website, since I had changed my profile location to Hawaii before I even went there on vacation in hopes of finding someone to join me for activities. Cristina had messaged me, which was unusual since beautiful women rarely initiate conversations with me on dating websites, so she had my attention instantly. She had first complimented my taste in music, and we later talked about our shared love for scuba diving. I had mentioned scuba diving on my profile, but I truthfully hadn't been diving in nearly a decade. I had been living in places like Washington, D.C., Amsterdam, and Pittsburgh, not exactly famous for their underwater attractions. I put scuba diving on my profile to sound more adventurous than I really am, just like I casually mentioned my pilot's license. In reality, I hadn't been behind the controls of an airplane since I flunked out of Air Force pilot training when I was 23 years old. But here we were, about to go on a shallow reef dive off in the clear waters off Hawaii.

As it turned out, Cristina worked as a scuba diving guide and instructor and offered me a dive excursion at a discounted price, so I agreed. We engaged in small talk as we walked down the dock to the dive boat. As we stepped onto the small twin-engined boat, she motioned to a shirtless, bearded man wearing Rayban Wayfarers and swimming trunks. "This is my husband Paul," she said, as he extended his hand, "he runs the boat."

As a shook his hand and politely smiled, but I was a little stunned. "Oh, you work together, that's so cool. I didn't know that."

Cristina had openly identified herself in her profile as "married," but also "open to non-monogamy." I had just assumed she was in an open marriage, looking to have a little fun. My initial euphoria that I was going on a promising scuba diving date with a sexy South American suddenly shifted to disappointment that I had actually been lured into a tourist trap.

"Welcome aboard," Paul said, gripping my hand. "Cris told me all about you. You're going to have a great time. She told me where you had been diving before, this is on a totally different level." He was handsome, with a broad smile behind a well-groomed brown beard. Like his wife, his skin was evidently bronzed from all the time he spent barechested in the sun. Squinting into the sun had also given him early crow's feet in his eyes, despite the fact that he was younger than I was. This somehow made him seem even hotter. Tattoos covered most of his arms, and part of his chest, and I fought the urge to stare at his toned abdominal muscles. I had clearly identified on my online profile that I was bisexual, and I guessed that Cristina had almost certainly passed that bit of information on to her husband.

"Oh, I'm really excited," I said. "I can't wait to get out in the water." The three of us chatted for a while while we waited for the other divers to join. Four other people would join the dive, a middle-aged father and his young daughter in the Peace Corps, and a young, attractive Korean couple on their honeymoon. Cristina was a professional the entire time as we made our way out to the dive site, giving us a refresher course on the equipment and describing the names and types of all the tropical fish we would see. She made jokes about her Spanish accent that made everyone laugh, and called everyone by their first names.

Once we were underwater at the dive site, Cristina led us through a beautiful coral reef and pointed towards schools of brilliantly-colored fish. I was impressed by her seemingly supernatural ability to locate camouflaged fish in the sand or rocks. But I was more interested in watching her toned, muscular bare legs kicking underwater than I was in seeing a masked angelfish. After two thirty-minute dives, we all climbed back into the boat for the ride back to the island.

I was now confident that I had been marked as a business opportunity, but Paul offered me an India Pale Ale and we started talking as he piloted the boat to shore. It turned out that we had a lot in common. Like me, Paul had served in the military and ended up in Hawaii due to his last assignment, and he just decided to stay. We had the same taste in music, loved the same types of beer, and found ourselves finishing each other's movie quotes. Once we had docked the boat, I stood around drinking beers and talked to Paul as he and Cristina cleaned up, and then I helped them load their truck with the oxygen tanks and gear.

"Well guys, this was so much fun," I said, as I gave Cristina a hug as my Uber driver pulled up to the curb, "it was great meeting you two. Thanks so much."

"Hey," Paul said, shaking my hand, "if you're not doing anything tonight, I speared a huge tuna and we were planning to do poke if you want to come over."

"Sure, I love poke," I agreed instantly. They seemed like an interesting couple, and I felt like I could talk to Paul forever. I loved the idea of eating a fresh-caught Hawaiian fish with a couple of pseudo-locals, even though I had given up on the idea that anything was going to happen between me and Cristina. In the Uber ride back to my hotel, I pulled up Tinder on my phone and I started swiping.

Later that night, I walked up their driveway carrying a bottle of wine as a gift and worried that I had picked up the wrong one. I chose an Argentinian Malbec because of Cristina, and was second-guessing myself. Cristina greeted me with kisses at the front door, took the wine, and reassured me that I had made a great selection from her native country.

We sat outside for dinner at sunset and drank the bottle of wine before moving on to beer. We told stories, laughed, and raised our glasses in toasts. As it got late in the night, Paul got up to clear the table and do dishes, and Cristina and I sipped our beers.

"You know," she whispered, "he really, really likes you. Like, really likes you."

"I like him too," I responded. "You guys have been absolutely amazing, thanks so much for having me over..."

"No, no, no, " she shook her head, raising her index finger. She was a little drunk. "He wants to you to fuck him."

"Oh," I said, dismissively. "I'm not so sure about that. I'm not getting that vibe from Paul."

Cristina laughed.

"Oh, I am." She leaned across the table. "You know one way I know? Earlier today, on the boat, he gave you that special beer he made himself. He never does that. That's for special occasions."

We both looked through the window, into the house where Paul was doing dishes. "Look," Cristina turned and stared into my eyes, "when I found your profile, I knew instantly. You are his type. He is bisexual, but he needs to find the right person." It suddenly dawned on me that this whole time, Cristina wasn't interested in me necessarily, she was setting me up with her husband.

I watched Paul towel off his hands and looked back across the table at Cristina, as she pulled her long dark hair behind her left ear. "Really? You think I should make a pass at him?"

"Of course," she grinned. "I'll help you."

When Paul came back outside, Cristina stood up first. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him back into the house, "let's go listen to some music." Paul and I made contact, as if to say, "who is to argue with her?"

Cristina and Paul fell into their big grey sofa as I flipped through Paul's impressive record collection. I pulled out a remastered vinyl pressing of a 1970s David Bowie album, put it on the turntable, and crashed onto the sofa next to them. A couple hours went by, and the conversation bounced around several topics, before turning to David Bowie's bisexuality and male bisexuality in general. Cristina and I made the point that many men are bisexual, but social stigma prevents men from expressing their sexual desire for other men.

"For example, both of you are bisexual," she said, sipping her drink. "But Paul won't ever say it, or admit it, even to himself."

"I'm not bisexual," Paul protested. Cristina threw her head back in disbelief.

"What about what happened when you were in the navy?" She demanded.

"Oh, that," Paul admitted shyly, "that was a one time thing."

"What happened in the navy, Paul?" I leaned closer.

"When I was on a ship," he turned to Cristina, who just glared back at him, waiting for him to finish. "I let a guy give me a blow job once. That's it. We were out at sea, there was no Internet, there were no girls on the ship. I just needed a release." At that, Cristina put her glass down and left the living room. I told Paul about my bi experience, and tried to make him feel comfortable.

After a few minutes, Cristina burst back into the room, holding a strap-on dildo in her hand, with the harness hanging around her wrist. "Would you like to explain this?"

Paul didn't hesitate. "Yeah, sure. I mean, I like it when my wife fucks me in the ass with a dildo from time to time, but that doesn't mean that I'm bi."

"No," I agreed. "But it doesn't mean that you're not bi, either." Paul laughed, and I could feel him loosening up. My leg was pressed against his, and my hand was resting on his muscular left thigh.

"That's true, I guess," he conceded.

"Did you like it? I mean, the blow job on the ship, did you enjoy it?" I asked, slowly running my hand down his leg.

"Yeah, actually," Paul said with a smile, "it was one of the best blow jobs I've ever had."

"Oh my god," Cristina interrupted, exasperated, "you two flirting is making me so wet right now."

"Well," I said, my hand now resting on the inside of his leg, "you enjoyed getting a blow job from a guy. Your wife would love to watch you getting a blow job from a guy. I like giving oral to guys...why don't you let me suck your cock?"

Paul laughed. "Well, I'm not going to argue with that."

I slid off the couch onto the floor in front of him and loosened the drawstring of his pants, sliding them down to his ankles. I ran my hand against the outside of his boxer briefs, and I could feel that he was semi-hard already. I slipped my hands in the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down to the floor. His circumcised cock sprang free, partially hard, and I took it into my right hand. His thick pubic hair was unkempt, and smelled musky, like seawater.

I started gently stroking his shaft, feeling it get firmer with each stroke. I leaned forward and swirled my tongue around the sensitive underside of his shaft. I could feel him shifting his weight to pull his T-shirt off up over his head, and couldn't resist looking up at his painted, ripped chest rising and falling with his quickening breaths. His head was leaned back, resting on the back of the sofa. Once his cock was fully hard, it was about the same size and thickness as mine, but it had a slight upward bend. "Your cock is so beautiful," I told him softly. I then took the tip of his cock into my mouth and started sliding my lips up and down. He led out a deep moan, almost like a grunt, and I felt his large hand rest gently on the back of my shaved head.

"Ah, that is so fucking hot, baby," I heard Cristina say, and I stopped for a moment to turn around to look at her. I had been so focused on her husband that I had almost forgotten that she was in the room. She was sitting on the loveseat, having stripped herself down to nothing but a black bra, and was rubbing her clitoris with two fingers of her right hand while she watched me suck her husband's cock. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor where she had been sitting. Hanging from her left hand was the strap-on that she had been waving around when she came into the room. I moved to the right a bit to give her a better view, and so I could make eye contact with her while blowing him. This quickly got her moaning louder than he was. "He looks like he loves sucking your cock, baby. Do you like it?"

"Mmmm, oh yeah," he responded, so I looked up at him, hoping to see him staring back into my eyes, but his eyes were locked with Cristina's. I wanted to get his attention, and have him be turned on by me, not staring at his half-naked wife, but I was still fully clothed. I stopped sucking for a moment, but continued stroking him. I felt a bit of precum, which I swiped off the tip of his dick with my thumb and lubricated his whole cock, from top to bottom.

"Do you want more of this?" I asked, and took him back into my mouth, my lips tight around him, but slowly bobbing up and down. He grunted. "Or do you like this better?" I rapidly worked the top of his dome, my lips lightly and sensually touching his most sensitive area. He arched his back at that, and I pulled back, I had my answer.

"Mmm, they both feel great." Paul responded. I was so turned on that I had this hot, muscled, confident Alpha Male practically paralyzed from my oral skills.

I reached up and grabbed his chin, and pulled it down so that he had to look in my eyes. "Look me in the eyes," I commanded, "watch me suck your cock." He did as instructed, and his mouth opened slightly in ecstasy as we gazed into each other's eyes for a few minutes. The moment was broken when I felt the touch of hard, cold plastic on my left shoulder. Cristina held out a single condom, still in its wrapper, for me to take. I took it, and she took my place on the floor, tossed her hair back to the side and continued sucking Paul's dick.

I watched them as I unbuttoned my short-sleeve white shirt and undid the drawstring on my linen pants. There was a large mirror off to the side, and in it, I could see both them on the couch and me standing a few feet away in their living room. As I took my clothes off, I noticed how pale my skin was compared to their bronze complexion, and that I also had the start of a sunburn on my head and shoulders from the day's activities out on the water. It also occurred to me that they put that mirror there for a reason.

Once I was totally naked, I turned back from the mirror and watched them, stroking my cock to prepare to slide the condom on. While I massaged myself, Cristina swung her left leg across Paul and straddled him, sliding down onto his thoroughly wet cock with a loud grunt. Their sex had a comfortable familiarity, they kissed passionately, and I realized that was the first time I had seen them kiss each other. She was quietly whispering something into his ear while he pounded her, but what it was, I couldn't make out. It was an intimate moment for the couple, and I didn't feel it was the right moment to insert myself.

Paul's powerful forearms wrapped around her waist, and he squeezed her buttocks tightly, bouncing her up and down on his lap. Cristina was so wet that her juices were running down the inside of his thighs, making them glisten in the harsh light of the nearby lamp. She turned and looked over her shoulder at me, standing there with my condomned cock in my hand, and she smiled. She pushed herself off her husband's chest and walked past me.

"Come on boys," she invited, grabbing a hair tie off the counter and putting her hair up. "Let's go to the bedroom." She turned, struck a pose, smiled, extended her hand with her palm facing down, and then repeatedly curled her fingers up towards her palm as if she was petting a tiny imaginary animal, then walked down the dark hallway.

I turned toward Paul, who got up off the couch and stood beside me. "What was that all about?" I asked.

Paul laughed. "It's how they do 'come here' in Argentina."

"Man, I have so much to learn," I joked.

"You and me both," Paul grinned. "I can't keep up with her." I motioned with my hand for him to go first. It was his house and his wife, after all, but I also hadn't seen his bare ass yet, and wanted to get a look.

As I walked just behind Paul, I could see a flickering orange glow coming from their bedroom. There were lit candles and some Asian-style paper lanterns on, giving the room a sexy, romantic lighting. There was a small pillar of smoke from lit incense in the corner. "This is all her, "Paul said, sweeping his arm across the room, "I had nothing to do with this."

I realized that Cristina must have set all this up before I even arrived at the house, so she must have been very confident about where the night would end. Cristina pressed her nude body against Paul's and looked up at him. "I wanted his first time to be special." I knew from our previous conversation that this meant letting go and going all the way with another man. I felt the moment was right and I kissed him on the lips.

He responded passionately, not reluctantly. I had thought he might be surprised, but he reached his hands up to my face and pulled me closer. My hard cock pressed against his. My hands slid down his back to grab his ass, the same way I had just seen him hold his own wife's ass while they fucked on their living room sofa. I maneuvered him to their bed, and we both fell down onto it, kissing. His beard was rough and scratchy against my freshly shaven face, but in the moment I did not care.

After a few minutes of kissing, I pulled back onto my knees, and started rubbing my cock. Paul rolled to his right with his face down on the bed. I scooted on my knees toward him, and I heard a pop as Cristina opened a bottle of lubricant. She rubbed it into her fingers and smeared it all over his presented asshole. As I slowly slid into him, he squeezed the bedsheets and moaned with pleasure loudly into the mattress. I grabbed him by the waist and started thrusting gently and slowly.

"He likes it hard," Cristina said very close to my ear, "fuck him hard." When she said it, her right nipple pressed against my right bicep, which would be our only sexual physical contact that night. But as it happened just as I slid my cock all the way into her husband, there was something about that touch that was electric. "Oh god, oh yes, fuck him. Baby, does that feel good?"

Paul just groaned affirmatively, but he was pushing his hips back toward me, so I knew he was enjoying it. Cristina crawled onto the bed, grabbed Paul by the chin and kissed him passionately while I continued to fuck him from behind. "I love you so much baby," Paul said softly, "thank you so much, this is amazing."

Cristina laid her head back on the pillows and spread her legs. "Eat my pussy Paul, eat my pussy while you get fucked in the ass by a man." He obeyed, burying his head in her cleanly shaven pussy while I continued to thrust my hips against his sculpted ass. Cristina, playing with her nipples, took her thick, tattooed legs and wrapped them around his neck, squeezing him in. Our eyes locked and I could feel I was about to climax.