Sun Kissed

I'd reached the flimsy satin of her thong and felt the moist dampness and I shuddered. I wanted desperately to say something about it but knew somehow that this would be a mistake, that it might break a special and rare spell. I withdrew and she downed the rest of her drink.

I found my voice. "What did he whisper to you?"

"Oh, he told me his name."

"Must have been a funny name."

She playfully punched my arm. "It's Darrell, and he also asked if I wanted to smoke a joint with him."

I paused for a moment. "Why don't you? Sounds like it might be fun."

She looked at me, her face a riddle. "You think so? I've not smoked one in years. It's out in the car-park." She said nothing else for a good few moments then abruptly stood, resolute. "Let's do it. Look, I'll go out first and you follow. I'll let him down gently that I'm married."

I snorted. "That always bothers the Martinques," I replied with a wry grin. I watched, quietly amazed, as my shy (although admittedly slightly drunk) wife, confidently marched out of the bar and into the dimly lit carpark after a strange black man.

I waited for agonising minutes, looking at the flashing lights of the dance-floor, the laughing young people around me, the shimmering ocean and the vast infinity of stars. My phone finally buzzed and I picked it up with a shaking hand.

Far left corner, two rows after our car xxxx

I sped out of the bar, suddenly as nervous as a teenager on a date. I scanned the dimly lit lot and walked on the crunching gravel until I could hear soft voices and see the blood red dot of a blazing joint. Anna was smoking it, holding it casually in her long fingers, relaxed and chatting to the tall black man who stood, nearly possessively, over her. Her face lit up as she saw me approach and she handed the joint back to her friend and beckoned me over.

"Tom! Here. This is Darrell. Darrell, this is my husband, Tom. Darrell works on the deep sea fishing charters; we were saying how we might be able to get you on a marlin one soon. He is also a dive-master."

Darrell gave me a cool nod and I smiled back. We passed the joint between us and then companionably walked back into the club together. Anna was very relaxed, almost giddy, when we got in. As we reached our table she pushed me down into the booth and leaned in and whispered in my ear: "enjoy the show".

And what a show. Where before she had been playful and surprised, rolling with the events but still holding back, here she was pure, filthy, sexuality. The music was raga and she really threw herself into it, her red dress sinuous against her body, her blonde hair loose about her shoulders as she swayed her hips and ground against Darrell repeatedly, her hands thrown around his neck. She shook her ass in ways I didn't imagine possible and I was hypnotised by its obscene sway and rock.

They had a small crowd of admirers now, watching this little blonde woman really throwing it back against the powerful Darrell. They looked spectacular in contrast and there was an unmistakable primal energy to the scene. Her dress clung to her body and sweat beaded on her pale skin. Her small hands raked across Darrell's back and then paused, tenderly, on his bare chest where the buttons of his shirt opened, gripping his chest-hair.

I don't know how long they danced for but it seemed an eternity of tense, scorching, desire. Song after song they moved, their hands exploring each other. Darrell's hands were all over her ass at points and Anna didn't mind, she was on fire.

Song after song, musical genre to genre. It moved through salsa dances to bump-and-grind to the Grease mega-mix, yet still they clung together, a writhing single being. Then the music slowed into love songs and the couples fell in close together. The lights dimmed but my pulse raced. I half expected the spell to be broken, for Anna to walk back having performed what she wanted to perform. But she didn't. She clasped tight to Darrell and they swayed together, every inch a couple. I watched in exquisite agony as Darrell's hands clasped around Anna's ass. Then I gazed in amazement as her head tilted up, her mouth opened, and she allowed the big man to envelope her in a passionate, sloppy kiss. His right hand floated up her back, dragging her closer, pushing her tits against his chest, resting in the nape of her neck as he drew her in, kissing, tonguing, exploring.

I felt more alive and aroused than I'd ever felt before. The lightest touch on my cock would have resulted in an eruption, a tsunami as I emptied myself. This feeling heightened as I watched his hand slide down her neck and rest over her breast, cupping and squeezing. His fat fingers closed around and he pinched a nipple, hard, and I could see Anna moan into his mouth. I burned the image into my memory, willing myself to remember each delicious detail, each perfect contour.

Then abruptly the moment ended. The DJ cut the music and a scratchy, incomprehensible message went out for someone to move their car, which was blocking someone else. Anna stepped away and put her hand to her mouth, smiling shyly up at Darrell, who grinned back. She grabbed his hand and skipped to our table. Her eyes shining, an eyebrow curled up in a question.

I gave her a thumbs up to reassure her as she arrived. I knew, without really knowing how, that a critical moment approached. If it went well, then this revolution, this perfect flowering, might continue; if it didn't, then it would peter-out in the drain of the next moment's awkwardness. I took charge. "Darrell, would you like to have a whiskey at our place? We live next to Plantation house. You have any more herb?"

He looked at me with an easy smile, relaxed and poised as anything. "Yes man, I got plenty of the good stuff. Where is your transport?"

Anna was just staring at me, quiet but without complaint. Then she surged forward and kissed me, deep and hard. I devoured her but let her go. The three of us walked out of the bar, followed by many envious and scandalised glances.

As we hit the fresh air of the carpark, Anna hit me with another surprise, slipping off my arm and grabbing Darrell's hand, leading him towards our car. When we got there, Darrell, out of habit, being so tall, moved to the passenger seat without thinking but I stopped him. "Jump in the back and keep my wife company, she gets bored on car journeys." He flashed me a row of white teeth and then climbed quickly into the back.

Anna hesitated for a second, looking up at me. "Are you a hundred, thousand, percent sure?"

"Yes," I replied instantly. "I'm loving every second. I'll go as far as you can go with this. I love you."

"I love you too," she said, as she slipped onto the back seat with another man. I started the engine, with my wife's giggles ringing in my ear. I sped through the carpark and over the bridge. I couldn't see anything of the pair but their vague silhouettes, which were pressed together. I could hear the wet sound of kissing and the deepening of breath as hands moved.

How I didn't crash was beyond me. I was dying to see what was happening. At one point I thought I saw Darrell throw his head back. At another, Anna climbed onto his lap, straddling him as she kissed him deeper.

I was with intense relief and excitement that I rounded the corner and sped up our drive, wheels spinning. As I parked up and opened my door, the light in the back switched on - revealing a debauched scene. Anna was disheveled, her dress pooled around her waist, her tits bare and glistening in saliva. Her hair was wild and her eyes gazed back from a haze of lust. I turned on the porch-light to get a better look. Anna started to pull up the straps on her dress but Darrell's hand stopped her. She looked up at him and he shook his head.

"Give it to me. I wanna see you walk."

Anna glanced up at me and I nodded permission and she shimmied out of her dress, leaving it draped across Darrell's strong arm. She then stepped out of the car, her heel detonating off the tarmac and her legs long and perilous in the moonlight. She strutted forward, naked but for the flimsy thong, her perfect ass impossible to ignore. The concussions of her steps to the door felt dangerous. Darrell was appreciative as well. He was stood by the car, his cock stuck obscenely out of his open zip, his eyes only on my wife's swaying hips.

It was some cock. It was what you saw in porn films - long, thick and veined. It looked responsive and alive. He had no sense of shame or self consciousness and really, why would you if you were hung like that? It was also the moment where the magnitude of the adventure hit me. He was here to fuck my wife, and she was going to let him; I was going to let him. He was here with his giant dick and she had already felt it, already jacked him off in the car. She knew.

I saw Anna turn left into the kitchen and I waited until Darrell was in the house, closing the door behind him. I led him to our balcony and invited him to sit down. He complimented the view, which was one of the milky way arcing over the silver bay. He told me that there was a good dive spot a few kilometers off the bay. I nodded, genuinely interested but also nonplussed - his cock was still sticking out of his trousers.

A moment later and Anna returned, carrying two tumblers of my finest Scotch. She handed one to me with a wry smile. "Just say stop when I go too far," she whispered, as she handed Darrell his drink and sunk to her knees before him.

"You can't go too far," I replied, choking on a lump in my throat and washing it down with the fire-water. What was going on? Here I was, in my own house, watching as my wife's harpist's hands reached out and grabbed another man's thick cock. My wife, on her knees, stroking another man's meat. Darrell threw his head back and Anna undid his trousers, pulling them down and casting them aside, freeing his heavy, pendulous balls.

Once he was undressed Anna swooped in, her hot mouth enveloping the mushroom head of his dick. I gasped at the obscene beauty of the scene: her red-lipstick striking against the ebony of his shaft, her golden hair cascading down and through his gripping fingers as he grabbed the back of her head.

"Boss man," Darrell said questioningly, as he half-moaned around my wife's mouth. "Boss man, you don't mind your wife doing this?"

"No," I replied, pulling down my own trousers and gripping my diamond hard dick. "I fucking love it. Do whatever you want to her." Anna moaned as I said this, her hand disappearing down between her legs. "She belongs to you tonight."

"Yes man!" Darrell replied, and he proceeded then to really fuck my wife's face. He took hold of her head with two hands and pumped into her with his huge cock, pushing deep, deep into her throat. I'd never dared to do that, but Anna did nothing but finger herself harder.

After a moment he released her and he sank back into his chair, taking a sip from his tumbler. "Don't forget the balls." I thought she'd refuse - she certainly would with me - but she didn't hesitate, taking each huge, hairy, black ball in her mouth at a time. She slobbered on them, worshiped them, and Darrell groaned in appreciation. I slowed the pumping of my fist, savouring the picture of the slutty princess in front of me. The sounds of slurping and moaning filled the warm evening air of our balcony.

Then Darrell changed his grip on her head, pushing it down, down, down from his balls. Anna resisted, confused, but then gave in, her mouth moving down his perineum and, unthinkably, onto his asshole. I nearly choked. Here was my prim - nearly prude - wife, the yoga instructor, the teacher, the Headgirl of her school and a Cambridge graduate, on her knees licking the ass of a black man we'd met scant hours before. It was glorious filth and I wanted it injected directly into my veins. She'd never done this before, not with me, not with anyone. It was so far off the scale of things that were acceptable that I'm not even sure I'd dreamt about it.

"Good bitch, get your tongue in deep. Yes bitch!" Darrell liked this. He was moaning hard, his head swaying and dredlocks flying. I saw Anna shudder as he demeaned her and I felt my hand quicken on my cock. He was very much in charge here. "Yes you white whore. Yes. Get up now. Get up and turn around. Drop those panties for me."

Anna obeyed, rising gracefully to her feet, saliva dripping from her chin, her hair loose about her shoulders and down to her perky tits. She turned around, facing the shimmering bay, and bent over, lewdly displaying her behind to us like an experienced porn star. Then, while still bent over, she peeled down her thong and stepped clear. She was dripping, moisture running down her thighs.

"Baby girl. Come here," our guest commanded as he reached out a long arm and pulled her close. His face buried into her ass cheeks and she let out a loud gasp as his tongue found its mark. He was eating her ass now and I watched as he slipped a big finger into her pussy. She groaned in ecstasy but also tried to pull herself away - he was having none of it, dragging her in closer. Anna looked directly at me, her eyes wide with panic, lust and a total loss of control.

"Tom!" she grimaced and grunted. "He's making me...he's...." She let out a wild cry and shuddered into him.

Darrell abruptly stood and grabbed Anna roughly by the hair, pulling her against him. "Feel how hard I am for you, bitch. "Your body was made to be fucked by me." He pulled her face up to his for a rough kiss, then slapped her ass, hard. "Yes bitch! I love it. This is mine tonight. You heard your husband. He gave you to me." He pulled her towards the sun lounger, where her mother hand been sunbathing a month ago on one of her too-frequent visits, and he lay himself down. "Now come and ride this dick. Show me what a slut you really are." He lay back, his dick, stiff and large as a police baton, stuck obscenely up in challenge. Anna, mesmerized, cowed, obeyed - crawling up towards him and grabbing the dick to guide it in. I took a sharp breath. This was the moment. This was the very second I'd craved but never really believed would happen. Anna didn't hesitate, she plunged his massive cock into her, her arousal more than enough to lubricate for his size. She moaned and threw back her head as he entered her and she worked down his shaft with small little pulsations of her hips, working him inch by massive inch into her. Finally he was balls deep and I could hardly breathe. There was a pause, a stillness that radiated out from the epicentre of their joined bodies and flew out to all the edges of the visible world. Then Anna started to move, to fuck herself senseless against this stud. Her motions were primal, urgent. She rocked her hips, she rode, and I was treated to a sight so porographic, so base and depraved, that I knew there was no coming back to how things were. Not for me, not for her. She rode fast and hard, bucking wildly against the huge shaft inside her. She looked a goddess, her blonde hair flying wild, her tits bouncing, her sweat glistening in the starlit evening. She growled and groaned like an animal, building to a crescendo with her thrusts, her arms clinging to the back of Darrell's head. I was enraptured by the sounds of their bodies slapping together. The pace quickened and then quickened again and Anna arched her back, cumming again and again in waves.

When the orgasim subsided, Darrell stood, taking Anna with him in midair. "Good girl," he announced, pushing her to the ground, onto her knees. "Now I want you to taste yourself. Wash that cream off my cock." Again she obeyed, obediently darting her tongue up and down the shaft, cleaning and sucking on his giant tool. It was sublime sluttiness. He patted her head. "Good girl. Now turn around, face down, ass up." She obeyed, he back arched with her yoga flexibility, her position as submissive as it could be. He grabbed a fistful of her golden hair and mounted her. He didn't waste his time, slamming into her deep and forceful, his heavy balls slapping against her as he drove in, again and again. She was gone now, her eyes dead and he mind nothing but grunts and contractions.

I don't know how long he rode her like that. I was lost in recording it all by this point, my phone a filter to the sizzling action - the only thing stopping me from cumming wildly myself. Some time later Darrell stood and grabbed the cushion from the sun lounger, throwing it on the floor. He pushed Anna down on this then plunged into her missionary, her legs firmly planted over his wide shoulders. Anna gasped as he re-entered her, grimacing as he got really deep, down into her womb and up against her cervix. Later she would tell me that the stimulation cause her come in waves, in electric pleasure that she'd never experienced before.

Darrell was plunging deep now, a man on a mission. His strong back glistened with exertion and he was grunting low, building towards his climax. He forced Anna's legs wider, and she grabbed her toes, totally opening up to him, giving him maximum access and taking him as deep as possible. I watched as his plate-sized hands cupped her quivering ass-cheeks and gasped as a thick finger probed at her asshole, teasing it and then dipping in. She was just a mass of utterances, of inarticulations, her eyes rolling, her toes curling, but she sensed his building climax and urged it on. One hand snaked down to cup and caress his balls, to push him in deeper.

"Please," she begged in a hoarse whisper, "please cum in me."

He pumped her faster and faster and then shuddered, flooding her, spearing her. She came as well, bucking against him, her hips popping up and her fingers clawing his back with one hand and milking his balls with the other. Darrell was still humping her with jerky, violent, thrusts; as if he were trying to pump every last drop of sperm into her womb, as deep as possible.

He paused for a moment, slumped over Anna, spent, then swung his legs over her and knelt by her face. "Clean me, bitch. Taste this cum." Anna was beyond questioning. She hated the taste of cum and found it all disgusting, but not tonight. Tonight she slurped the slick remains of his thick paste off his shining dick. I watched, amazed, seeing her work on the deflating staff, seeing his cum oozing out of her pussy. Darrell caught my eye. "Ay! Husband-man! Get in that shit while it's warm!"

I plunged my cock straight into Anna's waiting hole. She moaned on Darrell's dick as I did so, a slave to sensation. I could feel the slickness of his cum around my dick as I fucked my wife. I could feel how I pushed his cum deeper into her with each frenzied stroke. I was power-fucking her now, pummelling her in a fury I'd never mustered before. She loved it, grunting and moaning again as she built to climax.

Darrell stood and walked to his jacket, rolling a joint as he watched us fuck. "Yes man! Fuck that bitch good, yes!" I pumped her hard and Anna spasmed, out of control in pleasure. I was close - quite how I'd lasted this long was an unimaginable mystery - and somehow Darrell sensed it. "Bust on her face Husband-man! Her face!" I obeyed, whipping out of Anna's pussy and standing. She rose to her knees to meet the first rope of cum as it went flying through the air and onto her perfect face. I sprayed her, covered her chin and chest in silvery lines. "Yes bitch, now eat that shit up. Scoop it up and eat it." Anna followed, running her hands down her face and then licking her fingers clean. She licked my cock as well, drinking deep. The pleasure was so overwhelming that my leg shook, then buckled.

Darrell, who had been filming, strolled over to us and handed the blazing joint to Anna, who took a grateful drag. He propped himself up on the sun-lounger next to us and shook his head. "Fuck man. You two are fucking sexy. This is crazy."