Monogamish - The Seven Year Hall Pass

And he had a fun dick to suck. Like I said, it was thick, but not so long at to present much of a choking hazard. I did not have to be as careful as I was with Todd when I began to slide him in and out between my lips. Paul gasped general thanks and general approval as I worked.

I let him slip free and took my time examining his cock while I idly caressed the sensitive skin behind his balls. I breathed warmly on it, then dragged my tongue up its length before I engulfed him again and began bobbing with renewed vigor.

"Strewth, Amy," Paul gasped. "You know what you are about, don't you?" he moaned. "I wasn't expecting much of a good day, and I'm not really... shit, I may be about to come already," he warned, almost fearful.

I paused to let him pull back, but just a little. "I have faith in you, Paul. You and your nice thick cock here. I'm going to drink your offering now. Then while you recover so I can make you come again in a little while, you can take care of me. How does that sound?"

His answer, for which I did not wait before sucking on him once more, was a strained, "I am your humble servant."

I felt him tremble, and his cock swole. I almost pulled off, but decided not to, and tongued his tip while pumping him relentlessly. He flooded my mouth with his cum. He was not one of those unfortunate men whose jizz is distasteful, but he was certainly not top ten in the flavor department either. Still, there was a lot, and that's always flattering. I could have taken it all, but I decided to let a little spill from the side of my mouth. I sucked him dry and looked up at him with a smile, the jizz visible on my chin. "Wow!" I said with a smile.

I meant the smile. Paul was fun to blow. He projected a nice sense of servility when I had him in my mouth.

It had really been a lot of cum, especially given he had fucked his wife not very long ago. I was not worried that he would have another load for me in a bit.

There was a weird fucking story here. This guy was still fucking his wife, he was handsome, he was enthusiastic, and he seemed like he had some nice skills. Yet he was being annually cuckolded, essentially, and he knew it. By his best friend. Who was unaware that Paul knew of their betrayal, and had known a long time.

I was going to have fun here, but I was getting away from Paul as soon as possible after this. I was unenthused about becoming a part of whatever soap opera his life was.

He rose and gently kissed me. Not deeply, I noted, but it was a gentle and thankful kiss. Then he gently pushed me back against a blank wall in the room and knelt in turn before me. He nuzzled my mound and I happily ran my hands through his hair. Then he hungrily grabbed my ass. After a brief grope, he grabbed the back of my bikini and pulled downward. He kept his face firmly pressed against me, but the bikini bottom popped free and he pushed it to the ground. He lightly kissed my smooth, hairless mound, then got to his feet, but while still squatting. Then he lifted one of my legs and draped it over his shoulder, then the other, my twat spread wide in front of his face. Very close to his face. He gave me a light lick, not able to reach much below my clit, and then he pushed up to straighten his legs!

First, it was fortunate that the room had high ceilings. Second, that was some serious leg strength. Third, it was a bit precarious for my tastes.

But yes, that was some impressive leg strength! Well done.

For cunnilingus, however, what he did was remarkably about him. He wanted to put on a show. Probably to prove himself--to himself more than to me. But as long as his tongue did what it was doing, and his probing fingers did what they were doing, I was all right with the show he wanted to put on. Very all right.

After an evening and a morning of having my tits exposed to all who wanted to look at them, I was desperately horny. I held onto his head, partly in passion, partly to make sure I didn't fall off, especially when my hips began to buck uncontrollably and I may have thumped the wall behind me a few times as I came. I managed not to scream too loudly as my building pleasure tumbled down in an avalanche of release. In the back of my mind the fear of falling got even worse. I had once ridden a mechanical bull at a restaurant and been delightedly terrified. It had not been a sexual thrill, especially with my four and five year old boys alternating between cheers and laughter at their mom, but this was far more precarious. Even with Paul clamping one hand firmly on my thigh, and his other 'supporting' me with two fingers inside my twat, I was bucking harder than that ride had. When I sagged at last, Paul slowly started to lower me down. I probably could have come a second time, had he hung in there and kept going, but awesome as that would have been, I'd have likely dies of fright. The experience had been... interesting.

When he let my legs slide free of his shoulders and I leaned shakily against the wall, I reached out and grasped his cock. It was pretty hard again by then, though I knew it had a bit more swelling to go.

"Paul," I gasped, still short of breath, "even though my husband did not come on this trip, I still unaccountably have a supply of condoms with me. I'm going to need you to use one on me... now."

"Again," he grinned, "I am your humble servant."

I stepped to the bedside table and grabbed one, tearing it open. I turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He approached and I carefully slid the cover over him. I started to go further, but this was supposed to be a learning experience for me. I let him take the lead.

At first, I was little disappointed, as he leaned in to kiss me, fondling my breasts some more, and not even pushing me up onto the bed itself. I started to open my legs and wind one around so that he was between them, but he just grinned. "May I?" he asked, stopping my leg.

"Please," I found myself saying little breathlessly. Yeah, I was still completely horny.

With one hand still happily feeling up my breast, Paul lifted my knees gently. But rather than stepping between them, as I had expected, he rolled them over to the side, along the edge of the bed and away for me. My upper back was now flat on the bed, but my hips were twisted to the side. I suddenly felt Paul's cock brushing my pussy, and I inhaled.

He pushed, and I felt myself take him in. Again, he wasn't terribly long, but this configuration seemed to let him delve deeper into me than I'd have thought, and he was definitely girthy enough. He paused inside of me and rocked his hips around, making me croon.

"This is new," I sighed, as he began to pulse inside me, never pulling out very far.

"Fuuuck," he smiled down at me. "I just knew you'd be flexible enough to do this."

"I'm a flexible girl," I chirped back. Then I dropped my voice. "Now fuck me good."

And he did. He did not fuck me great, but it was very good. And it did the job. The new position added an, um, twist to it, letting him screw me almost doggy style, with many of that old standby's benefits, while also letting us look at each other, and making it easier for him to play with my tits, which, as before, he did do really well.

For a guy who I was apparently consoling over his wife's Same Time Next Year infidelity, he had some pretty alpha moves here and there...

There wasn't a lot for me to do, but that was okay. I like being the horse as much as I like being the jockey.

His need began to rise, and I cooed encouragement as my own insides began to glow with that tense warmth you love to feel. His hips began to thrust faster, with longer strokes, and I felt that was a much improved sensation, especially because he had the good sense and consideration to make sure he was sliding along my clit as his efforts transformed from gentle pulsing to hard pounding.

I found that I really liked this idea, and was appreciating Paul's efforts more and more. I tried not to think about how much harder Todd would rock it when he and I tried this position, because those ideas were distracting me from the release I once more felt building inside me.

His hips were working so hard now, he had to let go of my breast, something he clearly did not in any way want to do, and hold on to my hip and thigh with a near death-grip.

"Fuck me, Paul! This is so gooooood," I sort of gargled as I felt thoughts on the rest of my life fade, and I let myself slide fully into the orgasm. My hips shuddered around his madly pounding cock, he moaned happily in response. His moan caught, and I felt him slam home, cock pulsing, and I knew he was filling the condom. How much, I didn't know, and didn't care. It felt great as his cock thrummed inside me.

"Ohhh... wow," I sighed in a small voice as the relaxation took me and I sank fully against the mattress.

"Yeah," Paul said in return, his brief period of alpha behavior fading. He was careful withdrawing from me, and slid the condom free from what looked like an utterly exhausted cock, deflating like an untied balloon.

I rose and took the wrap from him, giving him a long kiss. "I think we both needed that," I said softly. He only nodded. I wanted to say more words of encouragement to this man, even advice, but I did not. First, I did not want to get involved. Two, I did not know what the fuck to say, except that he and perhaps his wife seemed to be making themselves unnecessarily unhappy. The best friend? Fuck that guy. Painfully.

All I could say in the way of advice was, "It was amazing bird-watching with you, Paul, but you had better go get very, very clean before your wife comes back from her own... excursion."

He smiled sheepishly. "Thank you," was all he said, nodding.

I never said another word to him. He just let himself out with a last, shared glance.

I lay back on the bed and recovered. I hoped that lunch was served late, because we had been at it a while. I was suddenly very hungry. Before I got cleaned up myself and donned a fresh bikini bottom, I grabbed my phone.

ME: Mission accomplished!

TODD: Already?

ME: Already. And I will not do anything further with him again. Fun, but lots of baggage. Probably why I had it so easy convincing him.

TODD: It was easy for you to convince him because you are you, and he has a dick.

TODD: Still plenty of time to revise and extend your research, though. Maybe you will learn something else...

More? That thought wiggled at my mind as I went to lunch.

Turns out the English couple had not gone on an excursion and were enjoying a late lunch themselves when I arrived.

"You look in a good mood," she said to me.

"You both do too," I replied, deflecting. Also, they both had a real glow about them.

"We tried the nude side of the beach for the first time this morning," she confided.

"You dog," I said to the husband, who just smiled. "So you've been naked on the beach all day?"

"We came back a while ago," he muttered, looking away.

"Oh ho!"

I was not going to the nude beach. Not this trip. Walking around having conversations with strangers while topless was quite enough new horizons for one trip without Todd. That, and taking my first strange in seven years. If I could get Todd to come back here with me, and I most certainly would convince him to, then I would try that beach with him.

For the afternoon, I signed up for a group jet ski excursion, right off the resort's shore. It was every bit as much fun as I'd hoped it would be, though my anticipated joy of leaping over the waves, naked torso swaying in the sun, was damped down considerably by the required bulky life vest. I was glad I had taken the slyly grinning guide's recommendation that I wear my bikini top underneath, to prevent chafing. Helluva job for a young guy to have, advising half-naked women to put their tops on...

Dinner was great that night, especially when I truly accidentally dripped sauce on my boob, then truly intentionally made a scene of cleaning it off. The men of the table were riveted, and even the American wife was calmly enthused about what she'd get out of my performance from her husband later.

Someone at the table finally got around to tentatively asking me why I was there without my husband. I airily answered that it was my birthday present, and he didn't have as much vacation as I did.

"It is such a racy place here," one of the Spanish girls giggled. "I think if I were married, I would very much need my husband in the evening after what we see all day."

I traded looks with the wives, both of whose eyes told me that they both likely were needing their husbands more than just at the end of each day.

"I'm not here long," I non-answered, speaking to the girl again. "He better be ready when I get home though!"

When dinner was done, I let myself be talked into the disco with the girls and their escort this time. I was surprised that the English came along. The Americans went for a walk on the beach. They did not specify which one...

I danced... a lot. Topless disco is... fucking wild. I was more convinced than ever that Todd was bringing me back here. Fun new position aside, I felt that the big thing I was bringing back to add variety to our lives was this sense of how much I was enjoying letting my tits fly free, around lots of others doing much the same.

I danced with a lot of guys, including my Englishman friend who I had initially pegged as totally staid and, well, utterly British, and also with the French boy. I also danced with a lot of other eager partners.

I was certain, and I know on these things, that I could have gone to bed with any of them, even the husband. I did so with none of them. My English friend was a surprisingly sexy dancer, but I liked his wife too much. She didn't mind me dancing with him, or mind dancing with other guys herself, but she didn't have that, fuck my husband if you'd like vibe going on. Frenchie? Nah. Pass. He was hot, and sometimes funny, but the more time I spent talking to him, the less he made me like him. But what about the several other more than acceptable in every way guys?

I was here for a purpose, not just to have a wild weekend. This Hall Pass was a business trip, not a no-holds barred vacation.

I still had a marvelous time, and fell into bed seriously horny, despite getting pretty effectively laid earlier in the day.

I awoke earlier than my alarm, with the sudden realization that I had not made a reservation at the spa. I love massages, and get them whenever I can. I was not taking a vacation at a place with that gorgeous health facility and not get a rubdown! I got up, actually put on my bikini top for some reason, and hastened to the spa before breakfast. I actually arrived before they opened, but the receptionist was already there, and she saw me.

"We are not open for another hour, miss," she said, opening the door in a nonetheless welcoming manner. "When is your appointment?"

"Pardon me, I am so devastated," I said, trying out my French. "But I have forgotten to make a reservation for today, my last day here. Please tell me there are massage slots available?"

"A bien sûr," she answered, inviting me in as she went to her computer. She went on from there in English because while the French appreciate Americans trying to speak French, it hurts their ears to hear us actually do it. "Would you prefer one hour, or two? And would you prefer your therapy here, or in the comfort of your own room?"

My own room? That sounded positively decadent. I went with that option, and for a full two hours! My musculature would be made of well-cooked pasta noodles by the time I was done.

"Excellent," she said, and we agreed on a time right after an early lunch. "Oh," she added as I was filing out my room number, "I do have both available at that time. Would you prefer a male therapist or a female?"

"Male," I said without thinking. Then I thought and stammered, "I like big strong hands for a massage." That did not help with my embarrassment.

"Big hands, check," she smiled.

Okay, that was embarrassing, but I didn't change my mind.

"Julien will be at your room ten minutes before your appointment time," she said. "He will start with a questionnaire about your needs."

I filled my time with a light breakfast. Then I spent a pleasant hour or so in the sun on the beach, fortunately without encountering Paul, but still being chatted up by various men or even groups of men. I may have marked one or two for further investigation, in the event I did decide to change my mind and took the opportunity to 'revise and extend.' I was feeling very good about myself by lunchtime, where I ate sparingly, because I wished to remain feeling good about myself.

I was back in my room, wearing a robe over my full bikini when I heard the knock on the door. I went to open it and... well now.

Julien stood there, six foot five inches of mocha-skinned, very mixed race hardbody. He smiled calmly. "Madame? I am here for your therapy," he said in a lovely creole. I invited him in, and he brought in with him a very heavy massage table, which he maneuvered almost effortlessly. He placed it in the middle of the room, and had it set up almost instantly. As he worked to produce linens from his bulky bag and drape them on the table, he began to question me about my needs. I was soon drawn in, and as I was a quite experienced patient, we were chatting about my usual pressure-points, and other muscle groups that need attention. The clinical nature of things, as always, calmed me.

"Well, I think that gives me enough to go on," he said after a few minutes. "And we have two whole hours, should we discover any other aches and pains as we relieve the primary ones. I will step out now, and retrieve my music. If you would undress to your level of comfort, lie down and cover yourself with the upper sheet, I will knock before re-entering. I think, given what you have said, I would like to start with you on your back today."

With that, he slipped out of the room.

As to 'my comfort', I'd never had a massage other than naked under the sheets, so that was easy. I shucked the robe and slid out of the bikini. I wondered why I had even bothered with the suit in the first place. He had left the sheet pulled back diagonally on the table, and I slid under it.

I was reaching for the edge to pull it up to my armpits when I thought, I have been leaving my tits uncovered for the last two days, why do I need to hide them now, here in private?

I fully admit now, as then in the moment, I had an image of Julien's splendid physique in my mind as I made the calculation to leave the sheet at my waist. You never know... but you can help things along

A knock came, and I called for him to come back in. He did so, paused when he saw me, but moved professionally forward. He started the usual New Age music crap they always use, and I asked him if he had any nice smooth jazz instead. Julien smiled and leaned back, his phone now streaming to the little soundbar a sweet jazz electronica which was not what I had wanted, but which sounded good.

He started with a massage of the underside of my neck, lifting my head and moving it gently side to side and up and down, even employing a measure of traction, which I always loved. I did find myself staring into his face as he worked, and he always smiled in return, but his movements were absolutely professional.

As he moved to my arms and shoulders, I could not help but begin to hope he was finding the way my breasts moved in response to how he lifted and pulled on my arms to be enjoyable.

But instead of moving on to my torso, he slid down the table and began to work my feet, then my legs. He tilted the sheet free of one side entirely to the waist, gently tucking the sheet between my legs, not touching anything really interesting at all, but making sure my modesty was notionally covered. But not by much. I found myself really hoping he was enjoying himself.