Only in Cap d'Agde - Four play

All that unnecessary, pointless soul searching, wondering how would it be to see my husband fucking Laura, if that were to happen. It happened, right before my eyes. Shocking. Devastating. Almost traumatising. Yet wonderful to see. Incredible. Awe inspiring. Amazing. Glorious in the beauty of the close up, starkness of it. Then feasting on it. Tasting it. From his cock, to her cunt, and then to me.

It shook me to the core when I first realised what it was that I was seeing. Laura had leaned forwards again, was back to licking me, while I was in a dreamland of carnality, eyes closed, luxuriating in the sensations emanating from my clit and groin. Then all at once, I sensed some other presence, a touch, against my head.

My eyes opened, to see the hugeness of his shaft, the head almost pulsing with energy, veins swollen, weaving along its length beneath taut skin, right there, Nick or John, I could not tell, not from the cock itself. Except when I saw the slate grey fabric of my husband's trousers, from which the solid shaft emerged.

His hands were on her butt, neat, hard globes. The head touched where it would enter. The eye, from which the semen would soon flow, was nudging at her nether lips. One of those labia was pushed within, the other to one side. The head slid into her so easily. Then more, inch by inch, solid shaft eased deep into her cunt. My husband's cock. Her cunt, not mine. Yet mesmerising to stare up from where I was still lying, right beneath that cunt of hers, and see it happening, before my awestruck eyes.

Then he started fucking her. The cunt lip that had been pushed inside emerging as he withdrew, both lips round the shaft, a fleshy kiss of lust, not love, for love was mine and only mine. Right to the frenum, he eased out, the taut short length of skin that joins the cock shaft to the head, now slick with the secretions from another woman's cunt. The head alone remained inside her. My husband's cockhead. His shaft, glistening with wet, her copious secretions, that I had tasted, my mouth readying her cunt for him. Those labial lips, so unlike the neatness of my own dark slit, seemingly sucking on him, seducing him to slide back in.

I had not thought that I would see this happening. I had expected just to be aware, to watch them from a distance, not right above me, inches from my eyes, so close that, had I wanted to, I could have raised my head while he was still pulled out of her, and lick the wetness from his shaft. Not that I wanted to. I was so shocked, so sickened in my stomach, so confounded and confused, that all I could do was watch his cock slide back in deep, until the fabric of his trousers pressed against her butt and grazed my head.

Yet I was still feeling pleasure, from her tongue. She had not missed a beat in licking me, in using the soft wetness of her tongue to play against my clit, in sending sensations of such joy through me, somehow compensating for the crime of appropriating into her avaricious cunt, that which was mine.

Hers was the first cunt that I had touched or kissed or sucked on, as I had, and all my lapping at that cunt of hers had been uncertain, exploratory, as a novice to this adult game. In contrast, she knew exactly how to lick and suck and lap and probe, and where to play and when to pause and then to start again, and she was using all that sexual expertise on me, drawing me to an unwanted climax that was almost blasphemous to me, while he was fucking her, or was it she was fucking him?

My climax was so close, her tongue so unrelenting, so incessant at my groin that I had no say, no choice, my body, my clit, betraying me, and taking me beyond the point of no return. I heard myself. Groaning, gasping, crying out with pleasure. I watched from somewhere high above myself, my body shuddering, the tsunami overwhelming me, drowning me in ecstasy, and I gave in. I yielded to it. I surrendered. I succumbed.

He must have waited. As I came to, from climaxing, his cock was stationary, resting, cock head in her cunt, just resting there. Laura too was waiting, just as still, unmoving. Respectful of the orgasm I had just enjoyed, they were no longer fucking. Just allowing me the moment. That was when I saw the glinting of another diamond, glass, more likely, but unblinking diamond staring right into my still moist eyes, nestling at the apex of her labia, right at her own clit, where it would play against it, the curved bar holding it in place, strumming gently at her nerve packed nub of flesh.

When we were married, a priest had laid his hands upon our heads, joining us together, blessing the union, confirming it to be holy, what was in the past forgiven, our vows and pledges to each other sanctified. I stared at this other union, a man, my husband, and this another woman, joined by throbbing flesh in the unholy sacrament of carnality, his cock in her cunt, and I knew what I should do. Give it my own blessing. Consecrate it. Make it hallowed. Acknowledge that it too was God's gift from heaven, to men and women, the gift of sensual pleasure, that should not be constrained, restricted, curbed, but celebrated, rejoiced over and exulted in.

I raised my head and kissed the diamond. Licked it. Lapped at her labial lips. Tongue tipped between those lips, to where my husband's shaft was stretching them, and licked at its thickness, kissing it, my nose against it, blessing this union not with hands but with my lips and tongue. I loved this man, but would not try to regulate his pleasure, or resent it. He could have her cunt for now, and she could have his sperm.

**********

Nick must have done no more than watch. The man I thought would fuck me, a spectator. Others too. I was conscious that other people wandering through the corridor were stopping, watching, enjoying the live sex show, the Indian woman lying beneath the auburn haired Caucasian, while a man enjoyed the European's cunt. Drawing conclusions. The dark skinned woman probably a friend, fuck buddy of the couple fucking, a plaything, bringing an exotic twist to Glamour.

Or they may have noticed the fourth wheel, Nick, standing somewhere near. Assumed I was in some way with him, hired for the holiday, spicing up the scene with the married friends who right now were fucking one another, prostituting myself, a high class, Indian whore, who the other guy would get to fuck when he was ready. Which, of course, I had become, in most respects. Dark meat in a Caucasian playground. A touch of the tropical. Coloured cunt for affluent Caucasian cock. Except no money needed. Semen deposited instead.

A small group now around us, maybe ten, a dozen. I could see them when I turned my head. The audience for my husband as he fucked this other woman, to the whole scene. Some would have seen me, heard me, enjoy that mind-blowing orgasm. I wanted them to know. I might be whoring, but I am not a whore. I reached behind me, my hands finding my husband's trousered legs, the thick thigh muscles. He would feel me holding him, that touch confirming the blessing that I had just given.

The grouped audience would see. My left hand towards them. Real diamond. Not just glass. On my finger. Glittering beside my wedding band. Telling them that I was not a paid for plaything. I was a wife, a whoring wife, but still a loving, caring, living, breathing, devoted, faithful wife.

My hands on him may just have made the difference, for moments later he thrust at her the final time. He stayed, not moving, other than the twitching of the muscles beneath my palms. I knew that then his groin was pulsing as he exploded into her. Only an inch of shaft visible. His semen travelling along that bridge of solid flesh, jets of it, driven through it right before my eyes, spurting into her, wads of it, my husband's semen, his precious sperm, wasted on her, that was rightly mine.

Except, I had consented to it. In coming to the club, I had implicitly agreed. And I had kissed her diamond and her clit and labia, and licked his shaft, and told them by having mouthed it, that it was fine. I had to stem my jealousy. I waited, knowing that the moment when I would properly swallow my misgivings would follow soon. He would withdraw, and I was ready.

He fills me, when he fucks me. There is a distillery of semen in his groin that works throughout the day and night, and when he comes, he fills me. It overspills. It seeps from me, when he is finished. And she was slender. He would fill her. When he withdrew, it would be the unplugging of her cunt.

He eased out slowly. I saw it. Oozing. Leaking in a trickle, forming a globule where her twin labia hung. Dripping from them, into my open mouth. Tart on my tongue. This time, not spurted into me directly, not spewed down my throat from him, but dribbling from the cunt that was the receptacle from which I drank. A communion cup, with bitter tasting, sperm laden wine. A sacrament consummated. All my misgivings swallowed with the semen that dripped down.

**********

All good things come to an end. I cleaned him first. His cock, diminishing in size, angled downward to my mouth, and I removed all of her from him, all of himself. Then I cleaned her cunt. Only the semen that stayed deep within remained. She climbed from me. I sat, at first, then turned, feet to the floor, still in my heels, of course. I stood. Went to my waiting husband. My arms went round his neck. He held me. My butt. Palms on the leather straps that still harnessed my body, that made me the fuck toy that, for now, I had become.

People murmured as they moved on. Scene over. Curtain down. Move to the next scene round the corner, another play-space, watch that instead. Some come to swingers' clubs to swing. Some just to wing it, take it in, voyeurs, but by their presence even voyeurs create the atmosphere. Those were the people who had stayed to watch us, and who now moved elsewhere.

John kissed me.

I can read my husband's kiss, as I knew he could read mine. Lips tell you everything, when forming words aloud, and when touching lips you love in silence, no words needing to be said. I sensed his love, his admiration, his gratitude, his understanding of just how much my acquiescence had signified to me, the enormity of the transition I had made, in sharing him, and still continuing to love him, now and forever, and I felt his love for me, stronger than ever, more enduring, confirming all I knew.

I offered him the same, my lips conveying that I loved him still, no less than ever, more so, that I embraced his masculinity, that all of the woman he had fucked before me, and the one he had only just enjoyed, were mere affirmations of his manhood, that I could now encompass in my love for him. No words needed. A wife who loves as I do can convey this with her lips alone.

How long we stood there for, I do not know, but I knew that when the embrace was over, I had a duty to perform. As John let go of me, he brushed my nipple piercing with his fingers, sending a delicious spasm through me, and he said into my ear the words I knew already, loud enough for me to hear.

"I love you."

I turned from him, and went back to the vinyl mattress, climbed onto it, knees at the edge, comfortably apart, my arms supporting my upper body. But not for long. I had had one climax. Another followed almost as soon as the invading cock slid deep inside me.

The intensity of that had and was still happening just overwhelmed me. Laura, in the powder room, taking control. Then on the mattress, licking my black slit of a cunt, while I lapped at hers between those luscious, labial lips. Her squatting on me, kissing my lips with her anal hole. Then watching John entering her, cock head stretching cunt, in technicolour, high definition close up, live display. Him spewing semen into her. My drinking from her cunt. Now offering my own cunt, and feeling what I knew was Nick's hard, unforgiving cock slide into me. All so intense, I came at once, to my eternal shame.

Had he waited, the earthquake that racked through my body would have gradually diminished, and I might have contained the exquisite tremors that shot through me, might have retained the strength in my arms to stay exactly as I was, hands and knees supporting my body, but he was impatient, and he did not want to wait for me. My climax was just incidental to his need to fuck, and some men, like Nick, will fuck you like they do not care.

He gripped my pelvis, holding me and fucking me as soon as he had entered. Thrusting, steadily, ravaging me in slow motion, his shaft grazing the most sensitive ounce of flesh of my anatomy, of any woman's, prolonging the agonising orgasm I was barely managing to endure, ripping the strength from me, my arms collapsing, my head turning as it touched down on the vinyl, mouth wide, gasping for oxygen to feed the flames that were devouring my cunt.

He carried on, taking his pleasure from my body, magnifying my own, protracting what should have been for me, a blissful moment, into a never ending, shattering, nirvana. When finally he came, his semen jetting into me brought me to yet another level of ecstatic, perfect, blissfulness, exploding in my head as much as in my womb. I know I screamed. I know it was not just once. I know I lost it totally. Lost consciousness. For an eternity of time, or just micro-second, I could not tell, but I had floated up to heaven.

**********

The Cap d'Agde camp-site is enjoyed by all sorts of people, not just swingers. Naturists from every European country you could name. Couples, of course, but families too. The retired. Some overweight. Some fit and healthy. Runners, jogging on the access routes. Dog-walkers, plastic bags in hand for poop collection. Or, as the camp site management would prefer, the dogs brought to one designated area, intended for their business to take place there.

I love dogs. I have never owned one. Indians do not keep dogs as house pets. Guard dogs maybe. That is all. But I love going to the park and watching them chase balls, or frolic with one other, or swim in a lake for floating sticks. John and I were standing at the waist high fencing by the camp-site's area for dogs, just watching, when we saw them. Doing it. Not poops. The kind of business where the male dog mounts the bitch on heat and rides her, and she locks onto the cock until he comes.

It was kind of funny, the plumpish woman trying to get them to 'arrete'. No way would her entreaties to the dogs persuade them to break off their fucking. Once together, instinctive nature is the driving force. Stupid of her to bring a dog on heat to where there would be other dogs, that might not all be neutered. What did she expect?

We walked on, down towards the beach. A late morning stroll, before we had more coffee at our caravan, and then came back to find a space on which to laze.

"You know that most people try to sublimate their sexuality," John said. "As if it is something you have to control, keep in the box, never allow it to escape."

Of course, I knew that. The cause of so much unhappiness.

"You're thinking of those dogs," I said.

"Wasn't that us?" he said. "The other night?"

"Isn't that a bit crude?" I said.

"Is it?" he asked. "I mean, you told me you didn't fancy Nick. But when he fucked you, you had that amazing orgasm."

"That was different," I started to object. "It was,..."

But I did not find the words to justify, or to explain.

"Sex?" John offered. "Lust? Because we're basically like them, the dogs we were just watching, willing to fuck because we want to and we can. Cocks hungry for cunts. Cunts hungry for cocks. Just animals, when it comes down to it, who have this added ability to think and feel and dream and fall in love, but who will fuck whenever they get the chance?"

"Maybe," I had to admit. "As long as you keep that bit about falling in love."

"And staying in love," he said.

"Do you think the woman will end up with puppies?" I wondered, out loud.

"Maybe," he said. "I'm not an expert on dog breeding. Matrimonial issues, divorce proceedings, I'm your guy."

"I know that," I said. "I mean, the dog was an alsatian, while the other was more some kind of larger breed of poodle, wasn't it? I was wondering how the puppies would turn out."

"Fluffy guard dogs," John said, which made me smile.

"What about ours?" I asked. "Do you ever think about that?"

"Coffee coloured, amazingly attractive, academic kids," he answered.

"That would be nice," I said. "I thought, maybe, I'd stop taking the pill."

Then, before he said anything to that, I asked him something different.

"Does it turn you on? I mean, my being the colour that I am."

"Every time we fuck," he said. "And every time I see your body."

"And those times you've watched some else with me?"

"Same thing," he said. "Watching you with Nick was just incredible. White fucking black. It's just, so different."

"My sister asked me once, what it's like to make love with a white guy," I told him.

"What did you say?"

"That making love with you is always lovely," I said. "What do you think?"

"You never told her about,...?"

"Are you kidding me?" I said. "She doesn't even know we come here. My family think we have our caravan on a normal site ten miles from here."

"Sisters sometimes talk," John said.

"Not about this," I said. "But,..."

"But what?"

"I was wondering,... I mean,... if it turns you on that I'm the colour that I am,... I saw a couple yesterday,... they had a British number plate,... camping."

"And,...?"

"They're black. As black as I am. But African."

"Or West indian?" John suggested. "Jamaican, or from Trinidad? And,..."

"And we could go past there, on the way back. See if they're around. Maybe get to know them?"

"Just when do you plan to stop taking the pill?" he asked me.

"I'd want our children to be ours," I said. "I want a family, with the guy I love. So after."

"Just making sure," he smiled. "A bitch on heat like you just might have been thinking something different."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"No," he said, squeezing my hand, which was in his, and had been, all throughout our walk.

"Although,... you let a guy you didn't really like, fuck you last night, and you seemed to really like it. And now, it seems like you've seen a black cock you'd like to have," he added.

"No," i said. "But I did like her, even when she started playing dom,.. you know I can be sub,... it turns me on,... and of course I let him fuck me,... you'd fucked her."

"And now you want some black cock?" he said again.

"Okay,... I'm curious," I said. "And you said you'd feel better about the woman you've been with if I,... and you've never told me,... were any of them black?"

"Okay, you win," he said, not answering.

"You'll like the guy's wife," I told him. "She's kind of cute all over. Petite, an afro butt, neat breasts, and a kind of crew cut, but tight curls on top."

"You'd not mind?" he asked. "I mean, it was supposed to be just you, enjoying other men while we were here."

"I guess last night changed everything," I said. "And I don't want Laura to be the only other woman that you fuck."

"Okay, we can walk past their emplacement and say 'hi', and see what comes about," he said. "Just one condition."

"Which is?"

My husband took me in his arms and held me.

"Just keep taking the pill until we're back at home," he said. "And remember that I love you, babe."

"I love you, too," I said.