Nadia in Dubrovnik

"I guess I don't think of it like that," I said.

"Perhaps you should," she smiled, and left us.

We sat in silence for a moment. Then Nadia suggested what I already had in mind.

"Should we go to bed?" she asked.

Which is where we talked, but only after making love.

"What brought that on?" she asked me, once we had regained out breath.

It had started off as gentle loving, kisses, caresses, my fingering her cunt, her stroking my cock, the last reminding me of how her hand had looked, her diamond glinting on that finger with her wedding band, while stroking Torsen's cock that afternoon. A call-girl's hand, not a cycle tourist's, or a faithful, loving wife's, her nails immaculate from Greta's manicure and gloss. A call-girl who was married to another man.

The script had called for Nadia to be Torsen's niece. Greta had ensured she looked like someone primped to fuck. Red lip gloss first thing in the morning. A porn star acting in the role. What niece walks naked with scarlet nails and lips, around her uncle's place, when she knows that he is home?

Those thoughts had led to harder fucking. Reclaiming her, or punishing my wife for sucking cock. For swallowing as well. The video replaying in my head as I fucked her hard and deep, and on and on. No missionary had ever slammed his cock so violently into a cunt the way I had.

"I don't know," I answered, to her question. "Pent up desire? Just needing you, from watching you today?"

"You don't often,... do it to me, I mean,... like that."

Not that she had complained. She had been just as wild. Wrapping her legs around my waist. Squirming. Writhing. Thrashing her arms against the mattress of the bed. Groaning and gasping, before she came and screamed for more, that I should come inside her, do it now, which did then make me come.

"And?" I said.

"And, I liked it," she said. "I mean, not every time,... gentle is good as well,... but it was amazing,... and I just thought,..."

She hesitated. I waited.

"Was it because I did that thing with Torsen?"

"Maybe," I said.

To which she said nothing for a moment. Then she asked me.

"And tomorrow? You heard what Helga said."

"As in?"

"As in, that they'll pay double, if I let him,..."

"We don't need the money."

"I know."

"You've already earned ten thousand from yesterday and this afternoon. She offered us the same again for more soft stuff tomorrow. That's twenty, in three days. You don't need to go all,..."

"Would you ever want me to be with another man?" she asked me then.

"No," I answered. "Never. It's not something that I want."

Then I remembered watching her suck Torsen, and I wondered if I had just lied.

"And just in case," she asked, "if something happens, while we're filming, how would you feel?"

Tough question. I could never be annoyed with her. That was the simple truth. I have never angered easily, not with anyone. A fault, I know, but that is how I am. I think about things, and deal with issues when I know exactly how I feel, and what I want to do.

For me it is not a loss of temper that decides how I behave, more rational evaluation. And with Nadia, I knew that even if she did something I did not like, I could not berate her, or go cold, or lift a hand, or anything. The same way that you do not squash a butterfly because it flutters just that bit too close to you.

Telling her that I would handle it, however, could suggest I did not care, could even make her think I deep down wanted it, but was too reticent to say.

"I think that I'm going to love you forever, whatever happens," I said. "And what Helga said about women being equal doesn't mean we can't work on the basis that now that we're together, it should only be each other that we're with."

She snuggled closer.

"I think so to," she said. "It's not like I need anyone but you."

"I don't need anyone but you," I told her in return. "I love you."

"I love you too."

**********

Nadia made morning coffee and made the toast. For all of us. Dressing seemed not to occur to her. We both slept naked, and she had been using the pool without a swimsuit, and had of course been naked during filming yesterday, so in the Dubrovnik summer heat, and in the privacy of the villa we were staying in, there simply was no need to dress. Or maybe, sub-consciously, my wife was re-enacting the scene as it had started yesterday, with Torsen, while anticipating how things might go today.

The rest of us sat at the table, allowing her to serve. Unlike my wife, we all were dressed, Torsen, Gunter, Felis and myself in varying styles of shorts and tops, Helga in a flowing, cotton, calf-length dress, and Greta now in denim, cut-off shorts that bared her butt curves, and a black, string bikini-top. Nadia brought each of us our coffees, leaning between Gunter and Felix to put the plate of toast in the centre of the table, alongside the butter, jams and chocolate spread.

Two sets of eyes followed the swaying of her breasts as she leaned over, not just setting down the plate, but adjusting a slice that might otherwise have slid onto the table. Torsen glanced as well, but he was more discrete. I guess any man there would have been admiring the way she moved, her butt, her breasts, every single thing about her.

I watched her too, admiring her body. Of course I did. But reading her as well. To figure out her mindset about the shoot that Helga planned for just an hour or so from then, just how my wife was feeling, and what she planned to do.

Mind-reading is pure fantasy. An act. It does not work. We cannot telepathically know another's thoughts. Reading body language is more accurate, but right then, I could read nothing more from watching Nadia, other than my realising that for my wife, being naked now was just as natural as for a puppy, kitten, or any kind of pet. It was not trying to impress, or tease, or flaunt herself, even though she had everything to flaunt. It meant no more to her than wearing a bikini on the beach would do, for any woman. She was totally at ease and comfortable, unclothed.

Conversation over breakfast was casual. Nothing about the shoot. Torsen was interested in the cycle touring we were doing, where we had visited already, and our plans for once we left Dubrovnik. He was in complete disbelief that we had already cycled over four thousand kilometres, some two and a half thousand miles. So we explained to him it just meant fifty miles or so a day, just five hours in the saddle, on those days that we were cycling, and not seeing around a town. Even so, he shook his head in disbelief. It was something he would never even dream of for himself.

We explained that we planned to cycle on to Greece, and Athens, then back up to Corfu, and a ferry straight to Italy, then Rome, Florence, France, and Spain. His jaw dropped, but he said he was impressed. Then he got up.

"It was good coffee, thank you, Nadia," Torsen said, "I'm going for a run. Four miles is good enough for me. I'll see you all later on."

He left us. Gunter and Felix excused themselves as well. Then Greta poured herself another coffee, her neat butt cheeks displayed below the frayed fabric of her shorts, and went outside onto the patio to have it there. Nadia cleared the table, while Helga and I were still sitting, finishing the coffees Nadia had poured for us.

"Have you thought some more," Helga asked, going round the kitchen island to where my wife was working at the sink.

"We talked last night," I heard Nadia answer. "We'd rather not do any more than yesterday."

"You're sure?" the German woman asked her. "It's good money. More than some girls make for doing two men at a time."

"We're sure," my wife said. "It's not about the money. I hadn't planned for things to go that far with Torsen, yesterday. I'd rather keep to what we said before. Touching is fine. Just not actual penetration. If that's okay."

It was good to hear her say that, making it unambiguously clear. But Helga was not the kind of woman who allows a door to close.

"Okay, leibling. That's fine. We'll still have some good video of you with him. And if you change your mind, or if your husband says he's fine with it, then let me know. Eleven o'clock? It's good?"

"It's good," Nadia agreed, turning to me, and giving me a smile.

**********

The guys were late to start. The console screens had to be brought outside, then shaded with a large umbrella on a weighted stand, so that Helga could monitor the filming while she gave directions to Torsen and my wife. Gunter and Felix did the heavy lifting, while Nadia and Torsen waited, on loungers, underneath a tree. I was with Helga and Greta, inside the villa, while the guys set up.

"So Nadia says you asked her not to go too far today," Helga said to me, across the table we were sitting at.

"That's what we agreed, last night," I said, not wanting it all put down to me.

"And just how many women have you been with?" she asked. "You said more than twenty, which could be twenty-one or two hundred, or anything."

"Enough," I said, not seeing why I needed to explain myself to her.

"And Nadia?" she asked. "Has she also had enough?"

"You should ask Nadia," I said, feeling not too happy that Helga was still angling in this way. "Not me."

"Perhaps," she answered. "But I will leave that to her. I don't like to say things to persuade a girl to do more than she wants."

"That's good to know," I said, wondering if the sarcasm behind my comment came across.

"It's more to you, I thought I should say something," she then attempted to explain. "It's like Torsen and myself. It took a little time for me to be alright with him still working. Now, it is just sex. The girls don't matter any more. I know what we have, and that has not changed, not in more than twenty years."

It still seemed pretty obvious what she was trying to achieve. What she said could well be true, but what she meant was that I should not get in the way of Nadia doing what she decided to do. Which was difficult to disagree with, the logic at least. Not that logic determines how you feel inside.

"Okay," was all I said.

Not agreeing. Just acknowledging what she had said to me, about her marriage to the guy. Then I got up and left the table. It seemed the simplest way to terminate a conversation that I had not wanted from the start.

**********

This time it started with Nadia in the pool. Naked, of course. As any niece would be when staying with their uncle. Torsen joining her, swimming a length, then coming back to stand with her. Reaching for a nipple stub. Thumb and fingering it. Not pulling on it. Just teasing. That was what had been agreed. Touch teasing. Only that.

Nadia smiled at him, or maybe it was just the way her lips naturally part, exposing perfect teeth. Torsen stepped in closer. All the way. Right up to her. And held her. Hands on her butt again. This time she raised her head herself. She knew what was expected. He kissed her for a second time. Tonguing her. Exploring all around her teeth, and on beyond them, the deep recesses of her mouth.

This time Nadia used her arms. Raising them. Reaching past his shoulders to his head. Cupping it with both hands. Drawing his face that fraction closer to her own, his mouth pressed harder down on hers.

I cannot say that I liked it, but I watched, without complaint. She was performing as I knew Helga would expect of her. Playing her role. The niece now knowing the delicious pleasures that her uncle could provide.

"That's brilliant, Nadia," Helga confirmed. "Now lead him to the lawn, and lie down on your back for him to lick between your legs."

Which is exactly what she did, as soon as Torsen had released her butt. She walked up the step from the pool, across the stone slab entrance to it, onto the lawn, and squatted, then sitting on her butt, then lying back, and opening wide her legs.

Torsen followed, kneeling between my wife's legs. Bending forwards. Burying his head right at her cunt. Lapping at her. Tonguing. Enjoying her protruding labia, then going in between, and delving deeper, all of this relayed in perfect focus to the large, high-definition screens, on which Helga, Greta and myself were watching every move.

Felix was moving round them, his camera zoomed right in. Trying to get the best angle, for shots of Torsen's tongue playing on Nadia's clit, or lower, lapping at the wetness that she was exuding from her cunt.

"That's beautiful, guys," Helga told them. "Torsen, can you use one hand to hold her open? Let the camera see into her slit."

Torsen did this.

"Good," said Helga. "Now lick her. Let the camera see your tongue go deep."

Felix was standing over Nadia now, or rather, squatting, almost on her face, filming what she would have seen herself, had she raised her head to look. A man her father's age, licking out her cunt.

"Wunderbar!" Helga exclaimed. "Okay, Torsen, can you use your teeth? She has excellent labia. See if you can bite on one and pull it. Gently of course. Gently!"

I watched on screen. He did it perfectly, if your idea of perfection is to see labial flesh held by male teeth and teased out taut. It was what Helga had requested. Not exactly what I wanted, but I could see why she had suggested it. As a shot, as porn, it was superb. As a way I liked to see my wife's cunt being treated by another man, that was something else again.

"Okay, good," Helga called to them. "Now for Nadia to turn over. Onto hands and knees. Torsen behind. Not entering, remember. But moving so that from Gunter's camera it looks like he is fucking her for real. Gunter, go behind Torsen."

Torsen backed from licking Nadia's cunt to give her room to move. My wife turned over, from lying on her back to being on her hands and knees. Until then, Gunter had been having a tough time, trying to get full body shots while Felix was doing his close-ups of Torsen going down on my wife. The problem being that Felix had been in frame. Now Felix backed off. It was simulated sex that Helga wanted now, and there was no point in having close-ups of Torsen's cock not actually entering Nadia's cunt. That is not how websites pay their way.

Torsen knelt between Nadia's parted legs, one hand cupping her butt. Gunter moved directly behind Torsen, just as Helga had asked. On his monitor, it seemed as if Torsen was guiding his cock into my wife. In fact he was angling it up, so that as he eased his body forwards to push his groin against her, his cock just rode her butt crack, the head harmlessly rising above her lower spine, but Torsen's body kept that from the future viewer of the scene.

"That's good," Helga said. "Nadia, you have to act like he is really fucking you."

Nadia, raised her head, stared straight in front of her, opened her mouth, and emitted an audible groan next time Torsen thrust against her butt.

"That's it," Helga confirmed.

More thrusts. More groans. More acting.

"Okay, Torsen. Bend right over her. Play with her breast. Felix, get a close up of his hand while he is mauling her."

The word, 'mauling', took me back. It reminded me what this was all about. Sex as pure pleasure, mostly for the man. Not love, nothing romantic, just lust, carnality, men acting as the animals they once were, back in prehistoric times, and as so many sadly are today.

Torsen did as his wife directed. His body so much bulkier than my wife's. One hand, furthest from the camera, was flat on the grass, supporting himself, or I am sure that Nadia's own arms would have collapsed. He groped her swaying breasts, underneath her, both of them, with his splayed free hand, thumb playing with one nipple, fingers with the other, while Nadia continued to fake groan. Or, with what he was now doing, perhaps those groans were real.

Certainly I was thinking of where Torsen's cock was now. Still pressed against my wife's butt crack. I knew that much. Felix had been filming close-up, and you could see it on his screen, just before Torsen had bent over Nadia. Now his body weight would be pressing it against her even harder than before, sandwiched between the two of them. But without him pulling back, there was no way that he could enter her, so my wife was safe.

Until Helga asked them for a re-enactment of what Gunter's camera had not seen before.

"So, guys, that's good," she told them. "Torsen, move back now. Nadia, I would like a shot, as if he is about to enter you. Just touching. That is all. We can let people who watch imagine that he does. For us, it is a teaser. For the viewer too. But if he can touch it there just now. That would be really good."

A touch is just a touch. I did not have sexual relations with that woman. I just touched my cock head to her cunt. Not that Clinton had done that. Not his cock head to her cunt. Or not that we know of. But I held my breath as Torsen did it to my wife.

He held his cock in one hand, the one further from Felix's close-up camera, thumb on top, fingers underneath, shaft visible. Then move forwards, Felix capturing the head nudging gently at Nadia's protruding nether lips.

"Just between her lips," Helga called. "No further. We said you would not penetrate."

He moved his cock head up and down, rubbing it against my wife's cunt. From Gunter's wider angled camera, the picture screened showed Nadia still on her hands and knees, Torsen behind her, her head was down, her hair hanging to the ground. Her breasts no longer swaying, just hanging, delicious carnal fruit. She was not moving. Just allowing him to do his thing. To play tease-touch on her cunt with his taut-skinned cock head, guided by his hand holding the thick shaft.

I guessed that Torsen knew what he was doing. After all, he was a professional at this. He worked his cock head gradually between Nadia's labia, the eye no longer visible, nor the first half inch of the bulbous head itself, Nadia's protruding labia shielding it from view. Not yet penetrating. Nudging, certainly. Between her nether lips, unquestionably. But the head not yet inside my wife, at least.

That was when she clenched her butt, as if tightening her cunt. Safeguarding it. Ensuring no unwanted intrusion. Our cycling had built some decent musculature underneath the outer softness of her butt, and you could see the change of contour as it tensed, the concave shape that said the muscles there were taut.

Felix had zoomed to show Torsen's groin in profile on the left of the monitor's screen, Nadia's delicious butt on the right, Torsen's cock bridging the space between them. Not quite four times life size. But getting there, and nicely framed, and every detail sharp. Nadia's lips especially, encircling the swollen head of Torsen's cock.

I watched as Nadia's butt flesh tautened, then relaxed, then tautened once again. Possibly preventing penetration, but equally, she could be using the rhythmic flexing to stimulate herself against his cock.

On Gunter's screen, both bodies fully in the frame, Nadia breasts was swaying gently once again, in time with those contractions of her butt. Only Torsen was stock still. Careful not to enter. Not to breach the understanding that they had. Not to breach her cunt. Exerting self-control, when it would actually have been all too easy just to slide that cock of his, inside. To fuck my wife.

He kept to what his wife had said. He did not move a millimetre, let alone an inch. In the close-up Felix was recording, you could see his body stay exactly where it was, the same position on the screen. In contrast to my wife's. That moved. Her butt. Just fractionally. Backwards. Towards the centre of the screen. The half-inch of cock her labia had screened becoming closer to an inch, then even more, until the head and flange were hidden, my wife's butt still spasming, and with each contraction of that butt, her cunt was backing onto him a fraction more.