Marine

"I had forgotten Rebecca was Jewish," I muttered. She was Jewish in name only. Religion just seemed irrelevant to the four of us. Death, however, has a way of revealing the importance religion can have.

"I knew Rebecca was Jewish, but as you know she was not religious. It's more she was Jewish by birth. George is not of course, but he's doing as Rebecca's parents direct him. The poor guy is a mess. I think the full power of the loss of Rebecca hasn't hit me yet, but I'm going to miss her terribly," Marine said, and the tears resumed. I nodded, slowly.

George's visit got delayed, and he wasn't coming until late July, in the middle of the summer tourist season. It would be noisier and perhaps raunchier, but then that might be a good distraction for George as well.

*************

Marine and I had discussed, once or twice, having a wife swap, for lack of a better term, with George and Rebecca. I, for one, lusted big time for Rebecca's perfect body, even if I had Marine right there. Marine is enough for any man. I guess it was just greed, wanting as much spectacular pussy as possible. Marine confessed she found George hot, and she loved the way he looked at her with his eyes full of desire.

I didn't really want to see my wife writhing around underneath another man. I just wanted openly to fuck the living daylights out of that sex goddess Venus, whose Earthly name was Rebecca and whom our friend George had married.

It wasn't just her sexy body. Rebecca had a sexy smile, twinkling eyes, and she radiated a love of a lustful life that made her almost irresistible. And her walk! The way she moved was hopelessly sexy. Her hips would wiggle just the right amount as she walked. She had no idea what she did to every man with whom she came in contact. She was a danger to every happy marriage.

While Marine and I had discussed with each other the idea of swapping with George and Rebecca, we nevertheless never brought it up with them (or that's what I thought), because we never wanted to put our own marriage at risk that way. As it turns out, Rebecca had raised the idea with Marine, but Marine had never told me until now.

"Rebecca had the hots for you, but she was scared to raise the subject with George," Marine told me. "She thought a swap might work without revealing her lust for you to George."

"That's ironic," I said. "George once raised the subject with me, but I shot him down fast. Apparently, he lusts for you. All sane men lust for you, my love."

"I do believe you exaggerate. Stop talking nonsense," Marine said. "Anyway, Rebecca is gone. She's one of those girls who got away, Mark. I'm sure there are other little sexpots you failed to ensnare within your spider's web of sexual depravity." Marine liked to tease me.

I just smiled. Marine did not know about Rebecca and me. Sure, there were women who got away, but they were a precious few and they were before I had even met Marine. Now of course I was no longer in the market. It was Marine all the time for me. Marine and only Marine, except for my delicious illicit time with Rebecca, which I'll never forget.

"You know, Rebecca confessed to me she had had an affair," Marine said. "George doesn't know. Nobody knows. I'm her best friend, so she confided in me. She felt that she had to tell someone."

"Do I know who she stepped out with?" I asked Marine, my stomach in my chest. I was trying to hide how nervous I was.

"She wouldn't tell me who it was. She said it would hurt too many people, but she said that I know him well. Very well," Marine said, giving me a penetrating look.

"You're fibbing. She told you, didn't she?" I asked.

"No, she didn't. But I guess you're telling me now," Marine said. My damn face is so easy for Marine to read! How could she have read me like that?

Stupidly, I continued to play dumb. "I can't be telling you. I didn't say anything. What makes you think I could possibly know who she was cheating with?"

"Do we ever really know anyone?" Marine asked. "You know poor Rebecca only too well. I mean you knew her. You knew her fucking well, you bastard. You chose Rebecca? How could you cheat with Rebecca? Why not cheat with that slut Alexis who seems always to be hot for you? Why did you cheat with my best friend? Why with our best friend? Why with your best friend George's wife?"

"Can you forgive me?" I asked. I had no choice but to come clean at this point.

"I've been fucking you silly every night since we got to France. What do you think, you moron? Rebecca's gone, we've lost her forever, but we're still here and God knows why but I still love you, even if you are an asshole of a husband," she said.

"Haven't you ever cheated on me?" I asked.

"Do you wish I had?" she rejoined. She raised one eyebrow, knowing I always melted when she did that.

"No."

"Well then, you're lucky I haven't. Not yet, anyway, although Pierre wouldn't mind getting me naked underneath him with my legs spread wide, I'm damn sure. He tries daily, you know. It sure would be easy for me just to say okay a few times, you know? I wouldn't have to do much more than blink. You'd better behave from now on, or I could be fucking half the men on the Riviera while you cry in your Alsatian beer," Marine said, almost spitting out the words.

"It might even do wonders for my intimate vocabulary in French," Marine added, thoughtfully, as if she were doing a cost-benefit analysis.

"With your looks and your sex appeal, I'm sure you could. Please don't, my love," I said, and we kissed. We kissed again. We kissed a third time. As we enjoyed our fourth kiss I was pealing off Marine's clothes and had her naked in no time. We were right in the window and anyone with a good angle could see her nude body, but she either didn't care or didn't realize it. All women know when they're exposed, however, so I inferred she just didn't care. I knew she had a bit of an exhibitionist streak. I love that aspect of her personality.

I stripped off my own clothes and Marine sank to her knees and took me in her mouth.

"When did you learn to deep throat, my love?" I asked her as she swallowed me up to my balls for the first time since I had met her almost two years earlier. Had she learned for Pierre?

"High School. Or maybe it was Middle School, I don't know. Surprised?"

"Yes, very. It's surprising to learn you can do this after over a year of marriage, I must say," I said.

"Oh honey, there's so much you don't know about me. Did I ever tell you about my threesome in college, for example?" Marine asked.

"No, you never mentioned that little detail. Tell me about it," I said.

"Another time," Marine said, as she swallowed my cock whole a second time. I ran my hand through her hair as she blew me. She stopped before I could cum. I knew this meant she was saving my erection for a fuck.

"Tell me, Mark, what was it like to fuck Rebecca? Was she as good in bed as she was sexy? Did you even do it in a bed or was she bent over a chair, or was it in Central Park behind some bushes? Did she blow you as well as I do? What was her favorite position?" Marine asked.

"This is not healthy, Marine," I said.

"Fuck me, Mark. Fuck me hard, like you mean it. Pretend I'm Rebecca and punish me with your big cock. That's how Rebecca liked it, right? Right? Right?" Marine asked. "She was such a goddam submissive, such a pain slut." How did Marine know that? Girls talk, I guess.

I picked up Marine and threw her onto our bed, and I roughly spread her legs. I pinned her arms above her head with one hand and brutally finger fucked her with my other hand. I tried to get my fist inside her, but I have big hands and her cunt was just too tight. Marine alternated screams with groans of pleasure. I had never known Marine liked it rough, but it was obvious that she did!

I got rougher. Marine moaned louder. I tied up her hands and now tormented her with both of my hands. Marine ate it up. I brutally slapped her ass until its red color matched her discarded panties. I pushed her legs up into the air and then back and all the way down so that her ankles were next to her ears. I had no idea my wife was so limber, so flexible. I tied down her legs in that position. Both her holes were there, staring at me. I used my right hand to finger-fucked her pussy and my left hand explored her asshole, gradually fucking her anally with three fingers of my left hand.

I was giving Marine a double penetration with my fingers! This was a new trick for me. I was tempted to ask Marine if it was new for her, but it would ruin the mood. Another time, perhaps.

My cock was aching. I had to decide on a hole. "Choose a hole, Marine," I said.

"No," she said.

"Choose a letter then," I said.

"M, for Marine," she groaned. "And for Mark!"

"Try again," I said, as I slapped her ass hard and repeatedly.

"A," came the reply, "for my husband, the asshole." Her ass it was.

As I fucked my little sexpot wife up her ass, she groaned and moaned and cursed and yelled out "Yes!" over and over again. I diddled her clit while I fucked her asshole, and when she came, she screamed it out, bloody murder.

"That's exactly how Rebecca said her lover - you - fucked her," Marine said. "No wonder she loved you. It's about time your own wife got the goodies too, you bastard. Let's go down to the beach tonight. I want you to fuck me on the beach, and I want you to be brutal, nothing pansy assed like just now."

****************

A week before George was due to arrive Marine completely remade her sartorial choices. Instead of dressing like a hot to trot sexpot, a dress code I lived for, she changed to skirts of the correct length for modesty, skin tight jeans, and blouses that covered her goodies completely. She even got a swimsuit that was a modesty preserving one-piece suit. She bought modest lingerie and a modest nightgown as well.

She still looked hot as hell. Clothes can cover the body, but the sexy essence and perfect figure underneath still shines through; all the more so with French clothes, which of course was now all that Marine owned.

"No sense teasing George. He has enough on his plate, and he'll be staying with us," Marine explained. I nodded wisely, trying to hide my disappointment.

Of course, Marine retained her work outfit when she worked at the café with Chantal and Pierre. For work she wore a short skirt, a push-up bra, and a low-cut scoop-neck blouse. Marine was near native in French, but she also spoke German, Italian and Spanish in varying degrees of ability, all of which was a huge plus with the tourists.

When she had a table of German men she always made a point of leaning in to take their orders, giving them delightful looks down her blouse. It goosed the tips, which was the point. When she could flirt with them in German as well, they almost fainted with joy and flooded the table with Euro coins.

Marine and I met George's plane, which landed at the Nice airport. We drove back to Antibes along the coast road, and George marveled at the views. We pointed out the Fort Carré that once upon a time protected Antibes, I suppose. We took George straight to our neighborhood, and after he settled in a bit we took a walk about, getting him accustomed to life on the Riviera, and then we took him out to lunch to a restaurant on the beach. Food always tastes better when your feet are in sand, and the sea breezes fill your nostrils, and the restaurants on the beach in Juan-les-Pins are no exception. George was in heaven.

I had to work, but Marine had arranged her schedule to have a few days off and she took George all over the Riviera, showing him museums, especially beautiful churches, the beaches of Cannes, and the corniches (winding roads that cling to the cliffs and give stunning views) in between Nice and Monaco. I joined them by train in Monaco that evening and we visited the shops and the storied casino. I won € 60. Very unusual.

A couple of days later the three of us went to the beach at Juan-les-Pins. We went to a pay beach which provided us with chaise lounge chairs and mattresses, parasols, and chair-side service. The good life! We all oiled up with suntan cream. Marine wore her modest one-piece suit. She was alone among a sea of bikinis worn by every other woman at the beach.

Quite a few of the women were also topless and George's eyes were popping out of his head.

Seeing George's reaction, Marine asked, "So George, did Rebecca ever go topless at the beach?"

"No, as you well know Marine, that's not much done in the US, or at least at the New York and New Jersey beaches. She looked gorgeous even with her breasts covered up, however," George said, with a small sign of tears welling up in his eyes. Marine and I both noticed. "As do you, Marine," he added, I suppose to be polite.

"Marine sometimes goes topless here in France," I said, and Marine sent me a nasty look.

"I guess you can't go topless in a one-piece suit," George said, turning to look directly at Marine's boobs, her nipples now poking prominently at her suit. Clearly, she was aroused.

Marine gave me another nasty look and then she smiled at George and said, "Oh, sure you can George. You just roll the suit down. Want to see?"

Marine stood up right in front of George. She edged her suit off her shoulders. She smiled directly at George, ignoring me. Clearly, she was still mad at me and quite frankly, I couldn't blame her. She was using George to exact her revenge.

Marine then began to roll down her suit. She did it carefully and tantalizingly slowly. She edged it ever so slowly down her chest, and then tortuously slowly across her boobs, stopping before she exposed her nipples. She shot a nasty look at me, and then smiled a dazzling smile at George.

"George, can you help me get the suit past my nipples, please?" Marine said, and she sat down next to George. She quickly looked at me, smiling the smile of a sneer.

George gingerly took hold of the edge of her suit and rolled it right past her nipples. I'm sure he was tempted to touch and even play with her nipples, but of course he didn't for all the obvious reasons!

"Keep going George. I'm going for maximal exposure," Marine said, and she blew me a kiss. It was a kiss-off air kiss.

George kept rolling her suit down until he reached her hips.

"A little more, George," Marine said.

George rolled it down some more, going slower and slower, waiting for Marine to tell him that's enough. Marine said nothing and just smiled. The suit went past her belly button and then George stopped.

"A little more, please," Marine said at that point.

George kept going and gasped when the suit reached the top of Marine's freshly shaven pussy. You could see a wee bit of her slit poking out to say hello.

"Just a little more. Maybe another inch or two?" Marine said.

"You're getting exposed, Marine," George nervously said.

"That's the point of the beach. The sun feels so good on my flesh. Should George continue, Mark? What do you think?" Marine said, looking at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. You could just see the top of her slit at this point.

I felt my tongue was hanging out. I love it when Marine exposes herself and she damn well knows it. "It's up to you, my love," I said. "Your suit, your body."

"Keep going please, George, until I say stop," Marine said.

George rolled the suit down another millimeter and stopped. He looked at Marine. Marine was staring at me. "Keep going George until I say stop," Marine repeated.

George rolled another millimeter down and paused again. Marine stayed silent. George shrugged and he began rolling it down, this time not stopping and waiting at the end of each millimeter, but still making slow progress. Marine seemed to be the only one who was oblivious to George revealing her private area. Everyone around us was watching our little drama. More and more of Marine's luscious slit was being revealed and soon more than half of it was.

"God, I'm wet. Okay George, you can stop now." Her suit at this point had been rolled down to her thighs, completely exposing her sex. I could verify she was wet as her pussy glistened in the sunshine.

"Oops," she added, "I guess I should have stopped you a little earlier. Hey Mark, want to see how wet I am?" Marine spread her legs revealing her sex in all of its glory. She stuck a finger in and held the finger up, showing off how her juices coated her entire finger. Then she rolled the suit back up until it just barely covered all of her sex, but no further.

"I'd better apply some suntan cream now," she said, giggling nervously. I'm sure she noticed the tents in my swim trunks and in George's.

That night, when we were alone and in bed, I said, "What was all that about at the beach?"

"That, my love, was your punishment for screwing my best friend and the wife of your best friend," Marine said.

"Is that going to be all of my punishment?" I asked.

"Do you want more?" she asked in reply.

"No, that was more than sufficient, showing off your vagina to George and half of the beach crowd," I said.

"Good. Now fuck me hard, damn hard, and punish me for having punished you, my love!" Marine said.

I was only too happy to comply.

The next morning, I got an urgent text followed by a telephone call. There was an emergency meeting of my company in London. I had to fly from Nice to London that very day. I'd be gone a week. I made my apologies and said my goodbyes to Marine and George; I hoped to be back in a short week.

As it turned out, the short week turned into a long week. I lucked out, however, and on my day to leave I got on an earlier plane than planned and made it back by 10AM. Marine was expecting me to return around 3PM so I thought I'd surprise her and just go directly home. I had bought her some lovely earrings in London.

I was a little nervous having left Marine alone with George for a week in a small apartment. Marine was probably still mad at me for having had an affair with Rebecca, and George was right there, available for her to act out some revenge. I was sure she would remain true to me, but I was nervous, nevertheless.

Marine's texts and emails to me in London had been as loving as ever, and that had helped to mollify my anxiety.

When I got home I was surprised to find Marine still in her nightgown and George still in his pajamas. Also, I noticed that Marine was wearing her sexy nightgown, not the modest one she had bought expressly for George's visit. That was neither here nor there. They may have had a late night, had too much to drink, and were enjoying a lazy morning. Marine's modest nightgown might have been in the laundry basket.

You could see her boobs in great detail right through her nightgown, of course, as I knew all too well, since I had bought it for her. I loved the sight of her dressed like that to welcome me, but it my glow was dampened by the realization that George too had been enjoying the exact same view. Well, what do you expect when you marry an exhibitionist, anyway?

"Hi honey!" Marine called out as soon as she saw me. "You're early. Everything okay?"

"I see you're not dressed yet. Hard time last night?" I asked.

Marine giggled. "Yes, hard. Very hard. I guess I slept in this morning. George did, too."

Marine had guilt painted all over her face, but the guilt was nothing compared to George's face.

"Yes Mark, it was a hard night. Even very hard, I'd say," she said as she looked at George, and giggled some more. George was blushing.

Then the surprise came. Chantal and Pierre came out of the bedroom. They were both undressed, too. In Chantal's case she looked to be wearing a T shirt and nothing else. The T shirt was so short of her she kept inadvertently flashing parts of her bush. Pierre was dressed only in his briefs which showed off clearly the shape of his manhood. Impressive, I thought before I could stop myself.