Nadia in Dubrovnik

I wondered just what Nadia would feel comfortable with. I was also thinking that Helga and Torsen were about the same age as my wife's parents, with a German manner that could come across to someone of her age, someone unassertive, as she was and is today, as more than a little domineering. People who knew best, who gave instructions, not requests, that she should try to please.

Torsen slid his fingers from her cunt, and Nadia turned. She knelt down on the parquet floor. His cock was pointing up now, at forty-five degrees to a stomach that for someone of his age was impressively firm. The head was circumcised. Purple. The shaft untanned, like the rest of him, his having flown there from Berlin. No real exposure to the Croatian sun. His erection right in front of Nadia's eyes.

She panicked at that moment. Jumped up from squatting on the floor. Scampered from him right across the room. Leaned, hands splayed on the solidity of the dining table where all this had been talked about the night before, and began to slowly yoga breathe. Measured, steady inhalations, counting internally to four, exhaling for the same amount of time, steadying her nerves.

Greta went to her, her arm around her back.

"It's fine,..." she said. "It's all good,... it happens,... it's your first time,..."

Nadia shook her head, her hair loose and draped down toward the table-top, her breasts swaying with the movement. Then she stood up straight.

"Sorry,...! Sorry,...! It was just,... I mean,... Sorry,...! I'm okay,... just a minute,..."

I went to her. She turned to me. Buried her head against me. Her body was in tremor, heaving as if she were in tears. I held her close.

"It's fine," I said. "We can stop. We can leave tomorrow. Or straight away. It no big deal."

Inside, I was wondering just how far I would have let her go before I would have called a halt myself. Walking naked in a city does not compare with being inches from a stranger's cock, and not knowing just what you were meant to do, or just how far to go. This was my wife. A virgin when I met her. Naïve in some ways. Still young, not mid-way through her twenties, as I was too.

She shook her head. Then looked up at me.

"It's okay,..." she said. "I just didn't,... I mean I've never,... not with someone else,... I've not even seen another,... but,... I can do this,... I'll be okay."

"You don't have to," I said. "The money doesn't matter."

"I know," she said. "But I,... I want you to be proud of me,..."

It was convoluted thinking, that she needed to go through with this for me to be proud of her, but she eased herself away from me, shook her head again, and walked back across the room to where Torsen was still standing, cock erect.

Had I been Torsen, seeing her in distress like that, my cock would have shrivelled down to just a nutmeg. His was still angled up, and thick, and hard, and proud. I guess his cock was used to interruptions, accepted them, like the professional soft-porn actor we now knew that Helga's husband was.

Nadia got down on her knees again in front of him. In front of it. His cock.

"Gunter,... Felix,... ready!" Helga said, "and,... action."

They had already moved to the side, filming them in profile, Nadia kneeling again. Her back was to where Helga, Greta and myself were standing now, so we had no choice, except to watch them on the screens.

"Just stroking it is fine, Nadia," Helga called.

Nadia's hand went around the shaft, her skin delectably pure and white, the factor fifty having done its job, in spite of all the sun we had been in. Her nails were manicured, by Greta, crimson polish gleaming. Something else was gleaming too.

"She's still wearing her rings?" Helga exclaimed, keeping her voice low, so that only Greta and myself would hear.

It was her left hand holding Torsen's cock, the diamond engagement ring that I had given her, and the wedding band, one of the pair we had exchanged, fully visible in frame, enlarged on screen.

"I'll,..." Greta started, beginning to move to go across to them.

"No," Helga stopped her. "It's good. Now the guys who pay to see this think that Torsen's niece is married. Seeing an older man taking advantage of a young man's wife is the fantasy they pay to see. It's fine."

I am right here, beside you, Helga, was my own thought. It is my wife that you are directing. Taking advantage of her desire to please. Remember that.

Meanwhile Nadia was slowly stroking Torsen's cock, looking up at him while moving her hand gently up and down his shaft, her upper lip revealing perfect teeth, her eyes conveying that willingness to do whatever he desired. With someone else, that might have been an act. With Nadia, I knew that this was not her playing Torsen's compliant niece. It was just the way she was, meek and deferential to someone of her parent's age. Concerned to please.

"Maybe you can do it now," Helga suggested. "Just the lightest kiss."

Just touching. Teasing. You can touch with fingers, with your hand. You can touch with lips. A touch is just a touch, someone once sang. A kiss is just a kiss. I wondered if the writer of the song had thought that the kiss might be not on the lips, but on the tumescent phallus of a man more than twice the young woman's age.

I waited to see what Nadia would do, both wanting to see it happen, whilst also hoping that she would go no further than she had already, just stroking him the way she was. My cock thinking the first. My head the second. But also rationalising. It was just a harmless video that they were making. A kiss would really be no more than that, a kiss.

She angled the shaft down to level with her mouth. Moved her head that fraction closer. Felix was zooming in. Her chin and mouth and nose filled one side of the screen. His cock, the head alone, the other, all four or five times life-size, which meant that the droplet of pre-cum, oozing from the eye, was magnified as well.

I watched, fascinated, as she moved her head forwards, her lips parting a little more, her tongue emerging, so that it was not the lightest of kisses that his cock received, but her tongue-tip, licking the droplet from the eye, and then retreating back inside.

"Wunderbar!" Helga whispered.

I had to admit that she was right. This was my wife, licking pre-cum from another man. A droplet only, but taking it into her mouth. It becoming part of her, melding with saliva to be swallowed. Yet it was perfect for that shot, for those who would be viewing it, wishing that it was their cock, their pre-cum that she had so neatly licked away.

A touch, a kiss, a lick. Once given, once received, to do it one more time meant little more. This time she used more than just the tip. Her tongue emerged again, pink, moist, lapping at his frenum, over the flange, and then onto the eye. Watching, I could almost feel it as if she were doing that to me, my cock reacting, swelling, stiffening, to see her doing that to him.

She did the same again, the wide angle screen showing her alternating staring up at him obediently, with looking at his cock head, whilst lapping at it with her tongue, now the full length of his shaft, from balls to crown.

She stopped a moment, turned her head, and looked straight at the camera Gunter was using for those wider-angled shots. Helga had told her yesterday to look into the lens as if it were her husband. To tease him, because she knew he wanted this. That was while she was fingering her cunt. Now it was while pleasuring another man and she was looking through the camera lens at me.

Somehow, the fact that I was watching on the screens meant that it was one step removed. It was a scene played out, not quite reality. It was play-acting, not real sex. If lapping at a cock can be described as sex. Clinton came to mind. 'I did not have sexual relations with that woman'. My wife was simply doing as she thought she should. She was not having sexual relations with that cock.

But that look she gave the camera lens was straight into my soul. Asking the question, just how much of this could I pretend was harmless, innocuous, nothing to write home about, not that I would be writing to anyone at home about Dubrovnik, or events in Prague.

My wife turned back to the cock she was still holding. Her lips still parted. Her teeth on view. The sexy chipmunk look, holding an acorn to her mouth. She kissed the tip. Not just a touch. Moving his cock so that it caressed her lips, lifting the upper, baring gum above her teeth, then angling down, her lower lip pouting with his cock head pressing down.

She backed away, a slender string of saliva arcing from his cock head to her lower lip. She licked at it. Then swallowed. Then moved in to kiss his cock again. This time opening her mouth to take in just a fraction of the head. To let her lips close on it, so that they grazed the taut, distended, purple flesh.

A kiss is just a kiss. A teasing touch, done with the lips. It is not quite oral sex. Accept the head, as she did next, its entire, bulbous size within your mouth, and close your lips around the shaft and then it is unarguable. Clinton might argue, but no one else. This was no longer just a kiss.

My wife knew all too well, the pleasure oral sex can give. I had enjoyed her mouth so many times. Not just these tender kisses, but sucking on my cock, taking the head all the way inside, closing her lips around the shaft, playing at the frenum with her tongue or gently biting on the shaft, deliciously torturing the packed nerve endings, sending spasms through my spine.

She chose to do the same to him. In one smooth movement, she devoured him. Not just the head. Several inches of his shaft as well. As if it were a popsicle, melting in the sun, with not a drop of flavour to be wasted.

I watched in awe. Gunter's screen providing the full picture. Subservient, on her knees before him, but so beautiful a scene, devoted adoration by a young nymph, revering age and wisdom, deferring to his needs and his desires, venerating manhood, offering herself to him. She was my wife, but she was still amazing. The mouth that I had kissed so many times now giving pleasure to another, for no other reason than that God's purpose in creating women was for them to pleasure men.

"Is that for real?" Greta whispered. "I thought it was just touching."

"Sshh!" Helga said. "Just watch."

That is exactly what we did. We watched. I guess each of us with different thoughts going through our minds. Helga delighted with the way the shoot was going. Soft porn, hardening into something more. After Nadia's spate of nerves, she had recovered her composure, and was now going way beyond what Helga had been hoping for. Greta was just open mouthed, in awe at what my wife was doing, and meanwhile glancing over to where I was standing watching closely on the screen, I guess wondering what I was now thinking of my wife, and if I would be blaming them.

Right then, I realised it had reached the point of no return. Once Nadia had taken Torsen's cock head into her mouth and closed her lips around his shaft, there could be no way back from that. Calling a halt would just be stupid. She was sucking on his cock, fellating him, and there is no way to unfellate a cock, to turn back time and act as if her mouth had never opened, nor received his member. It was happening. The only question on my mind right then, was whether Torsen too, would reach the point of no return.

Both his hands moved at once. Not to hold her head against her will, or pull it closer to his groin,, but just to welcome it, to stroke her hair, and demonstrate appreciation for the service being rendered. An uncle, delighted with his niece. But then his head went back, his body stiffened, and all five of us still watching, two with their camera, the director, her assistant, and the starlet's husband, knew exactly what would happen next.

Nadia knew. By then she was holding Torsen by his buttocks, and taking his head deep. Half of his length, each time she moved her head to him. The head itself never leaving her lips, never coming into view, on the Felix, close up screen. Until she sensed how close he was. For just a moment, she eased back, looked up at him then turned to the camera, Felix's, so that she seemed to meet my eyes a second time, directly from the screen.

"Look at the camera as if it were your husband,... he likes to watch you, doesn't he?"

That was the look that she had given. And, in truth, her husband liked to watch her. Walking in the park in Prague. Then on the city streets. Then while cycling south, and at pit-stops everywhere. While cycling almost naked. Right here, while fingering herself the day before. That day, while Torsen had been fingering her inside. Right then, while she was giving head to him. Devouring his cock. Her husband could do no other than admit, to himself if not out loud, he liked to watch.

She smiled. A smile can be mischievous and coy and can convey the message that this is only fun, and will not harm our love, all in that one, generous display.

Then my wife looked up again at Torsen. Angled his cock just fractionally down. Took a deliberate breath. Opened her mouth to take him yet again, but this time kept on accepting more and more of him, until her lips and nose were pressed against his groin.

Gunter's screen. Torsen bending over her, his butt tautening, his own mouth open just as wide as hers, but empty, only groans emerging from it then. His hands still on her head, now holding her. Fucking her throat. Coming. That was clear. Semen would be spurting from his cock head. No need for Nadia to swallow. Like his cock head, the stream was already part way down.

Karoline Meyer, a Brazilian, held her breath for eighteen minutes underwater, though that was after breathing oxygen and hyperventilating just before. Nadia had beathed in only once. But she took what Torsen had to give her. Her own arms taut, to hold her mouth against his groin, and keep his cock head deep while he was jetting semen down her throat. A skill acquired and honed with me, now being practiced on another man.

Hardly one minute. That was all the time it took. And it was done. She backed away. Looked up at him again. Looked at the camera. Smiled. The smile meant for her husband. Me.

"And cut!" Helga called.

Nadia stood up, helped by Torsen. He kissed her cheeks this time, left, right and left again. Then backed away.

Nadia stood there for a moment, uncertain what to do. Then came across to me.

"Was it okay?" she asked.

There was ambiguity in that short question. Was her performance good enough, or was it okay with me that she had given torsen head, and swallowed all he had to give?

"Totally," I smiled, the smile conveying love and reassurance, both.

There was as no other answer I could give. Her performance had been perfect. Helga was more than satisfied. I knew that. Torsen too, was fully satisfied, albeit in a different way. Apart from obvious nerves, Nadia had been amazing. As good as any porn star. As I thought that, I realised that that was now exactly what she was. Unknown as yet. But what had been sold to me as soft porn play, was now harder than before.

Whether I was totally okay with what had happened, was a different question, left unspoken, but still there. The answer was, I had to be. She was my wife. I loved her. I planned that we should stay together. Our relationship, our love, our happiness together were far too good to sacrifice our future just because, this once, another man had come while she had given him deep throat.

Besides, I knew my wife so well. Her first thought, and her last, is always how to please. How to do things right. Ingrained in her, by judgemental parents. She could never knowingly let people down. She had done what she believed she had to, for Helga, Torsen, Greta, Gunter, Felix, and, in some strange way, myself. I would never even hint to her that she had in any way disappointed me. That would have hurt her feelings far more than was deserved.

So I simply took her in my arms, enjoying the feel of her, her bare skin warm and smooth under my hands. She looked up at me, those same eyes that had venerated Torsen as a man her father's age, now seeking absolution, exoneration, pardon, for her sins, from the man she loved.

No need for words. I kissed her. As long, as deep, and longer, deeper, than the footage they had filmed of Torsen kissing her. Our lips engaged, our tongues entwined, my tasting her, and him, our love outweighing the bitterness of semen, connecting us as one.

**********

We talked in bed. About the latest offer Helga had described that evening, outside, after we had had our evening meal.

All of them had been enthusing over dinner, about the scene where Nadia had given Torsen head. Laughing, but genuinely complimentary, toasting her, telling her they had loved her mouth around his cock, and just how gorgeous she had been.

Then, on the patio, listening to cicadas, the insects' abdomens vibrating, signalling their desire to mate, that enchanting summer sound, their instinct so much like our own. Helga joining us.

"That was a good day's filming," Helga said. "You did really well."

Nadia was nestled close to me on a two-seater, wicker chair.

"Thanks," she said. "I hope it was okay."

"I've been talking with my company," Helga continued. "They've reviewed the footage. It still needs splicing, and background music, but they're certain it will be good. And worth every penny of the money Greta said we'd pay."

The reference to money seemed unnecessary. An embarrassment, if anything. But what was daring fun for us, was serious business to the German, and should be dealt with properly. Still, we said nothing, and I was wondering just where this would lead.

"They've asked if I can persuade to do a sequel. In the garden this time. More of the same. How far you go is up to you. But there is another ten thousand on the table. If you'd like to do some more. They also said, if you went all the way, they would pay double."

An image formed inside my head. Torsen fucking Nadia. Not a fantasy. A disturbing scene. Nice guy as he was.

"I'm not sure," I said, deliberately getting in there before Nadia felt the need to please.

"That's okay," Helga said. "I know you two are not married so long as Torsen and myself. I have seen him many times now, with others, but when you know each other as we do, a little bit of something with another person is not so much. You were both virgins?"

"Just me," Nadia said.

Helga nodded.

"Then even more, I understand you husband's feelings," she said.

She looked at me and asked a question Nadia had never asked me.

"You have been with many girls? Before Nadia?"

"Some," I said, feeling Nadia shifting nervously beside me.

It was a subject we avoided. Nadia did not like to think of me with someone else. She preferred to pretend our sex together was the only sex that either of us had ever had.

But Helga pushed it. She laughed at my response.

"I think more than some," she said. "I think you are the kind who does not find it hard to persuade a girl to sleep with you. So, tell me, more than twenty?"

It was a higher number than I would have expected anyone to guess. It was also none of her business. But she was using her director's voice, and was persuasive in getting me to open up.

"More than twenty," I agreed.

"But you love Nadia?" she said.

"No one else," I answered.

"You don't think that she deserves the same as you?" she floored me. "It is only sex, I think. Not love. Women cannot be equal?"

It was not a question that I wanted to answer. It placed me in a cleft, between the rock and what they call a hard place. Something else was hard as well, at Helga asking if Nadia had the right to have as many men as I had women. On the one hand, I could say my wife had no such rights, which would hardly make me seem a liberated kind of man. Or I could agree she had the right to full equality, which opened up the way for Nadia to go further with Torsen than had taken place that day.