The Whole Enchilada

After guzzling my fill and smearing my face with her secretions, I knelt next to Brigitte's bum and rubbed her slick cunt, sometimes lightly slapping it. I watched my husband's persistence in feeding his cock to her and stared at his thrusting hips. Chris's tempo and drive, I noticed, had gone up a gear—he would cum soon if not controlled—so I instructed him to stop and join me. He abruptly withdrew from her mouth, allowing her to lower her head to the mattress. She moaned contentedly, smiled, and adjusted herself, arching her back so that her ass and cunt wiggled high in the air with expectation.

Chris joined me at my station at Brigitte's rear, his eyes wide and his cock hard with anticipation. I stroked his shaft, wet with her saliva, before pulling on it, leading him like a stallion to position him directly behind her flanks.

This was my line in the sand; my breathing laboured from just the notion of crossing it. And I was mystified that I was not only prepared to insert my husband's cock into another woman's vagina but also bewitched by this escapade. My vulva watered and throbbed with lust, so, with resolve, I directed his erection towards her cunt. His shiny head seemed larger than normal, bloated, as it nestled against her spread labia, which brimmed with juices. Chris gazed at me, open mouthed, as I continued to steer his cock into her, but eventually he turned his eyes to his entry into her wetness. I tried to stay focussed on his face, to observe his expressions as he united with her, but I, too, was transfixed by the slow envelopment of his hardness by her body.

Once he'd entered her, he grabbed her waist and plunged into her cunt several times, his hips slapping against her buttocks with each thrust. Shivers ran through me as he leaned forward and clutched her tits, mauling them with zeal. She gave herself, bent over like a mare, and allowed him to grope and fuck her as he pleased.

I stared at them, stunned yet electrified at the scene in front of me. But eventually I clambered beneath them to lay on my back in a 69 position with Brigitte. Inches above me was the sight of Chris's cock snug and sheltered within her sex. I was overcome by desire, so I strained my head upwards to lick their conjoined genitals. Brigitte immediately munched on my pussy, sending shivers throughout me. Occasionally, her fingers spread me apart to stuff and stroke me, producing luxurious sensations to surge through my body, all while Chris pumped his cock into her cunt barely above my head.

He would bury his hardness into her, pressing deep, and then rapidly slide within her wet loins, sometimes fully vacating her before plunging back in and repeating the sequence. Now and then, my husband interrupted this pattern to withdraw and control himself, his cock gleaming with her essence, leaving her cunt obscenely breached. My lips and tongue reached for his sweetened shaft whenever it came out for air, and, once he had gained composure, he would insert his cock into my extended throat. Its taste and slipperiness intoxicated me, but he would inevitably extract himself from my mouth and then greedily resume stabbing into Brigitte's waiting cunt.

I stared at this sight, my husband's penis embedded inside another woman, and watched him as he'd halt his battering time and again to delay his orgasm so that he could prolong his occupation of her cunt. I wanted to interrogate him, to question him about her tightness and wetness, to demand a comparison. But I already knew the answer, so I buried my jealousies, and immersed myself into her body and tried to match Chris's intensity.

We carried on like this, Brigitte sucking and fingering my cunt, my husband banging her from behind, and I either licking Brigitte's pussy or sucking Chris's glazed cock. I lost track of orgasms, both hers and mine. My big one came when Chris was in my mouth but it was Brigitte who brought me there with her suction and finger-fucking. With Chris's cock twitching in my throat, I convulsed and shuddered, spreading my thighs as wide as possible, aching to engulf her with my cunt. The pièce de résistance, at least for me, would have been for Chris to burst in my mouth while I climaxed, but I knew that was not in the cards for me tonight.

He was inside her, screwing her, when he pick up his pace and grunted, "Fuck, yeah!" Apart from Chris's short pauses to delay his climax or have his dick sucked, he had been unrelenting in his fucking, but now he turned brutal, assaulting her cunt, battering it with incessant savagery. My mouth locked onto her clit, sucking until she screamed with rapture, all while Chris's cock rammed into her depths overtop of my nose, his balls swaying and bumping into my forehead.

His orgasm was abrupt, inducing him to mash against her while pulling her buttocks back towards him—impaling her as completely as possible—to splash his spunk into the recesses of her cunt, moaning with satisfaction as he did so. I took his balls and lightly squeezed as he fired his cum, fancying that I was helping him expel his every drop into her womb. When he withdrew, I gobbled his slick cock, savouring the remnants of his cum and her cunt juice.

After sucking him clean, I turned my attention to Brigitte's red vulva. Her raw hole oozed with fecundity; I tongued it and consumed their lust with gusto, feasting while splitting her rift open to extract every drop of their earthy amalgam. She squirmed in discomfort, her pussy likely sensitive from cumming, but I ignored her agitation and held her in place, continuing to suck her completely, as if to expunge all trace of my husband's sperm from her cunt.

Finally, the three of us collapsed on the bed, exhausted. The redolence of sex was thick in the air. Chris fell asleep first; Brigitte and I nuzzled overtop of his soft snores, giggling at first, but soon I too fell asleep, satiated. However, I was woken in the morning by the bouncing and squeaking of the bed: They were fucking again, this time with Chris on top of Brigitte.

I lay on my side, my arm propping my head, and studied them as they copulated. My husband was arching downwards, bending his neck, trying to suck her tits while he fucked her, his hands grabbing her boobs and pulling them upwards to bring her erect nipples to his mouth. Brigitte lay in surrender, cradling Chris's body with her spread thighs, and absorbed my husband's cock. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open so that deep, throaty grunts, in sync with Chris's jabs, filled the room.

I got itchy watching them, so I kissed her, sucking her tongue when she offered it while Chris continued to fuck her, her head bobbing with each of his thrusts. I then rode her face, my back towards Chris, and ground my cunt onto her nose and mouth. She licked and sucked on my lips and clit so that my entire body throbbed with lust. I could have cum on her gorgeous face, but that wasn't what I wanted. Instead, I slid down her body towards Chris—overtop of her jiggling tits, straddling her the entire time—until my buttocks had backed up as far as they could, placing my pussy above hers. I arched my back, raising my bum, and presented my needy cunt to Chris.

Initially, his fingers entered me, prompting me to moan and yearn for his cock even more. He continued screwing Brigitte while finger-fucking me, going on like that for some time. I lay atop Brigitte, face to face. Her smudged and smeared make-up along with her dishevelled hair gave her a debauched, whorish appearance—I could only assume that I looked no less depraved and slutty. I kissed her hard, almost brutally, and tasted my cunt on her lips yet again.

As we kissed, her body jarred in response to each of Chris's slams. Lying as I did on top of her allowed me to ride the waves of their fucking, so I surfed her body's heaves and undulations, wanting to absorb and share in their pleasure.

"Are you enjoying it?" I whispered through my teeth. "Are you enjoying fucking my husband?"

She looked at me, glassy eyed, and momentarily froze before she tilted her head back to emit a long, tumultuous cry, her blue eyes rolling wildly in their sockets as she shook in ecstasy.

My husband pounded her during her climax, pounded her until her responses waned to a whimper. Then, without warning, he stopped, shifted, pulled my hips back, and shoved his cock into my pussy.

"Oh God! Yes! Finally!" I gasped with pleasure, his penetration soothing the burning in my hole. I spread my thighs to receive him as deep as possible and to alleviate the prolonged inflammation of my cunt.

He held my hips as he hammered me, using the same intensity he had given to Brigitte. Perspiration formed on my body, especially on my front, where it was in contact with Brigitte's breasts and tummy. Chris was unceasing, fucking me into mindless bliss while Brigitte cushioned me from below. She grabbed my hair, twisting my head back to extend my neck before nibbling it, all while Chris's cock stretched and pumped at my starved cunt.

Tiny spasms washed over me. She wrenched my nipples, yanking them hard, pulling on them so that sensations shot throughout my body. A finger probed my anus—I assumed it was Chris's—and entered, pushing me over the edge. The ramming of my cunt rose to a fever pitch, accelerating until my mind and body burst into a million surreal fragments. Insane, fractured images of burning beds and erotic Mayan rituals dominated by tongues, saliva, hard phalluses, soppy vulvas, blood, and semen raced through my brain. I could only manage a throaty, incomprehensible moan as I clung to Brigitte. He continued fucking me at that crazy pace and did not stop until he had satisfied himself by driving into me and releasing his hot cum into my cunt.

I stayed in that position, contented and glutted, and focussed on the sensations of his dick softening inside me, but eventually Chris withdrew from me to collapse to one side. I rolled off Brigitte to the other side, and the three of us cuddled and kissed.

We stayed like that for some time, Brigitte between us, Chris and I petting her. I savoured the stickiness between my thighs and our final moments together. But eventually, it was time.

"I must go," was all she said. We rose from the bed. After slipping into her sundress, she collected her sandals and turned to hug Chris, not caring that his gooey cock was smearing her dress. They kissed, tenderly sucking each other's lips before parting. She then turned to me, and we embraced, kissed, laughed, and kissed again.

"Oh my God, Brigitte, this was so crazy!"

"Oui, very crazy," she laughed "and very delicious. You and Chris are very beautiful; be good to each other. Bon voyage."

And with that, she left our room. No emails, addresses, or phone numbers were exchanged, which was exactly how I wanted it to end.

Epilogue

The flight back seemed short. The movies on offer didn't interest me, so I stared out the window, past Chris, lost in thought for extended periods while an opened magazine lay on my lap. Our holiday, especially the last day and night with Brigitte, had crossed into territory that I struggled to understand. What blemishes, if any, would our relationship now bear, and would I be accepting of these bright red splotches of debauched graffiti upon our white-picket-fence marriage?

Chris, too, was quiet, and I imagined that he was repeatedly replaying his night of glory in his mind despite burying his nose in a book.

"Chris," I called to him.

He turned from his book and lifted his eyebrows, looking at me overtop of his reading glasses, indicating that he was listening.

"Chris, tell me we can have a holiday without going out of control."

"We can have a holiday without going out of control," he deadpanned.

"Chris, what happened between us and Brigitte was unique, OK? The time, the place, and the person were right. Those circumstances are unlikely to coincide again. Understand?"

"So you're saying there's a slight chance?" he grinned before quickly back-pedalling, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Chris was resisting my efforts at "serious" talk about the events of last night. And perhaps he was right. Was there really anything to discuss, especially so soon after consuming the whole enchilada? It was best to digest this episode some more, ruminate, and to allow it to settle before dissecting the wild events of last night.

The flight attendants readied the cabin for our descent. We were minutes away from landing. Outside, the bleak, snowy landscape stretched unendingly. But I refused to accept the implied symbolism, that my marriage and life at home were dreary, cold, and barren. It was quite the opposite. I had a husband whom I still dearly loved and respected. And I truly believed that he felt the same about me. We had our health and vigour. And we had wonderful children. Life was indeed good.

Yes, we had jumped outside the norms and conventions of marriage for one brief night, but we had gone together, experiencing an unexpected adventure in an exotic setting. It was exciting, erotic, and confusing. But we did it together with shared, joyful curiosity. Perhaps we would never do anything like that again; perhaps we would. It wasn't important, so long as we stayed true and honest to each other and to ourselves.

No, there was nothing to be depressed about, other than the weather.

But, of course, there was always the prospect of more holidays!

**********

Many thanks to awaken61313, Bron Zeage, and an anonymous reviewer.

Comments, criticism, and feedback are always welcomed.

CC