Wife on Loan Pt. 01

It wasn't the first time that I'd watched my wife have sex outside of our marriage. It wasn't even the first time that I had been at least partially involved in setting up such an arrangement. And yet, the first time that I truly loaned out my wife felt really different - primarily because of the sheer number of times that her holes were filled with cocks during that warm August night.

+++ August 2019 +++

The circumstances that led up to that evening had started out very innocently.

My in-laws had located a new rental property for our annual summer vacation to the beach: a large 6-bedroom house in a convenient location on the back bay with several boat slips. In addition to our rental, there was also a row of several attached 1-bedroom bungalows.

At first, we wondered how those renters felt about being so close to each other, but we soon learned that all of that week's occupants were one big extended family of sons, brothers, cousins, in-laws, etc. They were a blue-collar family from a rural area - a little rough around the edges, perhaps, but friendly. They were quick to introduce themselves, but since I'm terrible at remembering names, I wound up developing my own characterizations.

For example, I labeled the head of the family as the Patriarch. He and his wife had been vacationing at this spot for over thirty years, and they seemed to be the main funders of the family getaway. We didn't see them very often over the course of the week except for dinnertimes when they came out to join their family around the BBQ pit.

Next door to them was another married couple who also kept to themselves much of the time. I characterized the husband - who was the Patriarch's oldest son - as The Quiet One because I hardly heard him speak. He had a thin build, and looked like he was (or at least had been) a fairly heavy smoker. We saw his heavyset blonde wife a few times, but she was quite busy looking after their 3 young kids... whose yelling overcompensated for their dad's quietness.

In contrast, the Patriarch's other son was - by far - the most outspoken one of the entire group. I referred to him as Shorty - he wasn't much taller than my wife, perhaps 5'4" at most, and he had a pretty thick build. A sunburned scalp indicated that he either forgot to use sunscreen, or just didn't care. He almost always had a beer in his hand, which contributed to his extraversion that - at times - bordered on annoying. While we typically tended to do our own thing, Shorty almost always came over to chat whenever he saw anyone outside.

Shorty's wife, on the other hand, was soft-spoken, very sweet... and an absolute stunner. Between her fantastic figure - highlighted by her actively-nursing breasts - and her naturally-sexy Eastern European accent, she easily could've been a foreign model. As enraptured as I was by her breathtaking beauty and winsome personality, I was equally bewildered at how a gorgeous woman like her could end up married to an obnoxious redneck like Shorty.

Although I too was married, and my own wife has always been very attractive, something about Nadia (I had no problem remembering her name!) evoked lustful fantasies. As our vacation progressed, therefore, I tried to subtly take advantage of any opportunity to be around Nadia. It helped that our kids played well together, which - when she was distracted with her own kids - also gave me numerous opportunities to salivate over her alluring figure. In fact, I was so focused on drifting into Nadia's presence that it took me a few days to realize that my wife appeared to be doing something similar with the resident of the fourth bungalow.

Like the others, I couldn't remember his real name, but creating his nickname was obvious: Muscles. He was very tall, probably 6'5" or more, and his body bulged with toned muscles in places that I didn't even know could be toned. Understandably proud of his physique, he hardly ever wore a shirt. Knowing my wife's affinity for guys who have well-developed pecs, I figured she was probably drooling over his; knowing that my own eyes wander too, though, I really didn't mind.

At the same time, due to his tight-fitting swim trunks, I couldn't help but notice something else that appeared to be quite large: based on the size of the bulge between his legs, Muscles was hung like a horse. I wondered if my wife had noticed that part of him too. Her subtle affinity for chatting with him became slightly more suspicious.

Muscles, who was the cousin of Shorty and The Quiet One, also had a 19-year-old staying in the same bungalow as him. He was quite the opposite of Muscles - unathletic, overweight, and socially awkward - so it took me a while to figure out that the young man was actually Muscles' son. As it turned out, I didn't need to generate my own nickname for him, because I latched on to one that I overheard Shorty use with him: Wonder Boy.

The final bungalow was occupied by the one and only daughter of the Patriarch, along with her husband. While she seemed to fit the typical mold of the family, her husband was quite a bit different. Intellectual, well-educated, and more formal in nature, he held a white-collar job in the city that was quite a contrast to the trade-related professions that the others held. I called him Glasses, since he was the only one who wore them.

Our two sets of families began to hang out more and more with each other over the course of our stay - especially after the sun went down and all the little ones were in bed. The alcohol flowed freely while we played various yard games under the lights, and that freed up other inhibitions as well. On the third night, I found out that I wasn't the only one who questioned how Shorty ended up with a bombshell like Nadia. Glasses - who apparently became much less reserved when he drank - jokingly insulted Shorty after he'd lost a round of cornhole: "Dude, you're such a loser! How did such a loser like you end up with such a winner like your wife?"

Rather than coming to her husband's defense, Nadia casually threw Shorty under the bus. In her innocent-sounding accent, she remarked, "It's not his dick size, that's for sure!"

While most of the group roared in laughter, Glasses got a punch in his arm from his wife for insulting his brother, and Shorty glared at Nadia. "You'll pay for that," Shorty grumbled.

Apparently, Nadia wasn't done roasting him. "Oh, I'm sure you'll try to make me pay, but I can endure your 30 seconds."

As the crowd erupted in derisive laughter once again, I wondered how close that was to the truth - and I fantasized about showing Nadia how much better I would take care of her.

+++ Tuesday +++

On the fourth evening of our stay, as my wife and I were walking over to the common area for what had become our nightly tradition of games, drinks, and laughs, I happened to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra under her loose-fitting T-shirt.

Since that was atypical for her, I quietly voiced my observation. "No bra?"

My wife shrugged. "We're on vacation."

I tried to let her know that I wasn't bothered or offended - just surprised. "Sure, that's fine, I just know that's unusual for you."

Casually, my wife replied, "Yeah, I know - but, besides, we're not gonna see any of these guys after this week is over anyway."

I didn't realize it at the time, but she had inadvertently just laid the groundwork for the no-strings-attached indiscretions that would happen the following night.

+++ Wednesday +++

Early in the day on Wednesday, Shorty returned from a trip to the store with a portable gaga pit in the bed of his pickup truck. When Nadia asked him why he bought it, he just shrugged: "I dunno... just wanted to try something new." Although Nadia didn't seem too thrilled about his spontaneous purchase, it ended up being a tremendously fun intergenerational activity for both sets of families, and round after round of gaga ball was played that afternoon.

Once the kids were in bed that evening and it was back to being adults-only, Shorty proposed that we return to the gaga pit. It was odd for the gaga pit to be filled only with adults, and an alcohol-induced lack of coordination changed the dynamic as well. However, the most unusual aspect - since none of the other wives came out to play - was that my wife ended up being the only female in a gaga pit full of six men. It wasn't long before that created a... situation.

It all started when - during our third or fourth match, during one of the many times that my wife bent over to swat the ball away from her - Shorty apparently could no longer restrain himself from reacting to her tempting pose. An audible smack delivered to my wife's alluring rear end jolted her upright.

Everyone froze in uncertainty of how she would react to the unprovoked spank. Proactively raising his hands in self-defense, Shorty teased, "Oops, I'm sorry, I thought that was the ball."

With the game temporarily on pause, we all watched as my wife slowly turned around. How she would respond to Shorty's aggressive move had the potential to make or break the rest of our quasi-shared vacation.

She surprised us all.

Calmly, without a word, she stepped to his side, drew back her arm, and then violently slapped his own ass. "Oops, I'm sorry, I thought that was the ball," drawled my wife sarcastically.

As if he had been hoping she would say that, Shorty immediately gestured toward his crotch. "My balls are a bit lower than that, sweetheart."

Now that the tension had been broken, loud drunken laughter erupted. My wife, however, stood calmly and patiently waited for the laughter to die down before she coolly retorted, "Huh... I guess Nadia was right... perhaps I missed them because they're too small to find."

"OOOHHHHHH!!!!" The crowd's unrestrained delight at a wickedly good burn was followed by a rapid string of verbal insults aimed at the inferior size of Shorty's privates. "Small Dick" began to emerge as a potential substitute nickname for Shorty.

Perhaps irritated by how the tables had turned onto him, Shorty tried to deflect attention away from himself by pointing to the dormant gaga ball. "Will someone please hit her in the legs and get her out of here??"

Muscles quickly capitalized on the unintentionally-suggestive phrasing of Shorty's expression: "Fuck, I'd rather hit in between her legs!"

Instead of being offended, my fairly-inebriated wife spun around to face Muscles and dropped a bombshell that instantly escalated the sexual tension. Staring unashamedly at his concealed package, she said, "Ummm... if you did that, I might not be able to walk for a week."

There was a collective gasp within the circle. Muscles immediately turned to glance at me, unsure how her husband would react to such a brazen comment.

Perhaps surprising him even further, though, I simply shrugged. "That's probably true."

Rapidly emboldened by my lack of an adverse reaction, Muscles looked back at my wife. With a smug smile of confidence, he remarked, "Well, sweetheart, you'll never know until you try."

A hush fell over the crowd again. Time seemed to stand still. My wife stared at Muscles for a while, then quickly glanced at me, then back to Muscles. Although the silence was deafening, her silence was also communicating something: Desire. Willingness. Recklessness. Inevitability.

The unmistakable lump in my throat and the knot in my stomach suddenly made me realize that - whether I liked it or not - I had a pretty good idea of how this night was going to end up.

Shorty, always the outspoken one, loudly inserted himself into the situation and broke the tension. "Well, for what it's worth, I think any guy would love to tap that very smackable ass!" He concluded his statement by delivering another loud swat onto my wife's rear end.

My wife turned around to face Shorty. Seemingly unfazed, she calmly asked him, "What is with you? Are you not satisfied with your gorgeous wife?!?"

I nearly verbalized my agreement. Amen to that!

Shorty looked amused. "Well... she's not out here, is she? And besides, the only way to really tell who has the best ass is to check it out firsthand, up close and personal."

Contrary to the nickname I had ascribed to him, The Quiet One suddenly spoke up, "Hey, I have an idea! What if every time she gets tagged out, she has to take off a piece of clothing?!? Then pretty soon we all get to see who has the nicest ass!!"

Perhaps the reason he usually kept quiet was because his ideas are so bad. Shorty smacked The Quiet One in the back of his head. "Dude, we can't do that, our families are right over there!! How would your wife react if she looked out the back window and saw you running around with a half-naked woman?!?"

I found myself getting aroused by the thought of all these guys clamoring to see my wife naked. While the guys ribbed The Quiet One, my eyes roamed over the curves of my wife's braless chest and the generous amount of skin exposed by her skimpy shorts. I imagined her standing in the center of the circle with no clothes on, the object of every guy's lustful attention.

Perhaps feeling my stare, she glanced over at me. We locked eyes. She looked confident. Desirable. And clearly consenting to yet-unspoken indiscretions.

Suppressing my better judgment, I spontaneously offered a bold alternative to The Quiet One's idea. Although I knew that I was setting myself up for open betrayal, I suggested, "Hey guys - umm, what if we all go out for a little nighttime boat ride?"

I noticed an unmistakable fire in my wife's eyes as - loud enough for everyone to hear - she asked, "Wait - ALL of us?"

By the way that she emphasized the word "all," she was quickly catching on to what I was proposing. Despite my ongoing internal ambivalence, I nodded in reluctant affirmation.

She followed up with a second question, "You want me to show off? While you drive the boat?"

I nodded again.

She bit her bottom lip, thinking it over. The look of surprise on her face slowly transformed into a look of sexual thirst. Eventually, in an innocent-sounding voice, she addressed the group of overly-horny men. "Well, gentlemen - I suppose that I have something to show all of you."

I never saw a group of guys board a boat so quickly.

+++ 10 minutes later +++

As soon as the boat was out of sight from the dock, my wife stood up in the center of the boat, right behind my captain's chair. I could hear the seductive grin in her voice as she called out, "Okay boys... who's ready to see the prize??"

Over the cheers, Shortly quickly interrupted, "Wait, hold on a second - before you do anything, sweetheart, I think it's only right to propose a toast."

He took a few moments to pass out beers to everyone on board.

Once everyone had drinks in hand, Shorty offered his toast. "I don't know what kind of crazy marriage you have, but here's to our captain taking a bunch of guys out on his boat with his hot wife, and here's to his wife and whatever fucked-up ideas are in that dirty mind of hers."

Cheers of approval were followed by a brief interval of quietness as drinks were guzzled.

As I swallowed hard, knowing we were mere moments away from things getting crazy, Shorty added, "Oh, and one more thing - I say that whatever happens on this boat, stays on this boat."

Everyone raised their beers once more in unison and took a swig in eager agreement.

The next person to speak up was Glasses. "Alright, enough - I wanna see the prize!!!"

As the guys hooted and hollered, my wife handed me her beer. I inhaled sharply. Here we go.

The exact details of what happened next - and, in fact, for most of our time on the boat - were relatively obscure to me. Boating at night, especially when having to closely follow the bay's channel markers in order to steer clear of unseen sandbars, required nearly all of my focus. Therefore, with my attention divided, my knowledge of what exactly took place was primarily based on what I overheard, and supplemented only occasionally by quick glances.

For example, I never actually saw my wife take off her shirt, but loud cheers of approval soon let me know that it happened. As I turned to peek, my eyes discovered my wife in nothing but her shorts, arms straight up in the air, proudly displaying her chest for her thirsty audience. A chorus of indistinguishable voices shouted their approval. "Oooohh... nice tits, baby!!" "Fuck yes, that's what daddy likes to see!!" "Now that is fucking hot!"

As if she didn't already know it, my wife egged them on, "So... you guys like the prize??"

Her rhetorical question launched another round of verbal approval, but the voice of The Quiet One soon rose over the rest. With more confidence than I'd ever heard out of him before, he asserted, "Stand just like that, baby - now I'd like to give you a prize."

By the time I was able to glance backward, he was jerking his exposed cock toward her waiting chest while she crouched on the deck in front of him. Wow, that didn't take long.

It was slightly uncomfortable, yet undeniably arousing, to hear my wife talk to him in ways that were usually reserved for me. "Mmmm, stroke that cock for me. Cum all over my breasts."

About sixty seconds later, male grunts - and my wife's hummed approval - indicated that she had successfully coaxed the first of what would likely be many orgasms out of her suitors.

Apparently, that only increased her appetite, and my wife quickly asked, "Who's next?"

As I glanced backward, I saw that Shorty was stepping up to the plate. Unlike The Quiet One, who had only fished out his cock through his pants, Shorty had pulled his shorts completely off. With his entire package in plain view, my wife joked, "I knew they were small."

The guys roared in laughter, but Shorty did not sound amused. "Oh yeah?!? Small this!!"

Hearing a loud mmmph, I quickly glanced again. Shorty's dick was half-submerged inside of my wife's mouth, but - almost immediately - she pulled her head back to detach herself from his sudden intrusion.

Surprisingly calm, she asked him, "What... you think you can just stick your cock anywhere you want to?"

Shorty was unapologetic. "Yeah, actually, I do."

Cheerily, my wife responded, "Hmm... well, if you say so!"

The loudness of Shorty's groan made it obvious that my wife had - now willingly - wrapped her lips around his stubby dick.

First a cumshot, now a blow job - this is escalating quickly, I thought to myself.

The sounds of slurping created by my wife's tongue sliding along his shaft were constant - as were Shorty's moans of arousal. A few minutes into his blow job, Shorty called over to me, "Dude, your wife is so fucking hot."

"I know," I responded. Uncontrollably, my erection was in complete agreement, and it was straining the fabric of my shorts into an uncomfortable tent. It was time to let it out. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I wrestled my shorts up and over my towering manhood until they fell to my ankles. The rush of the cool night air felt great on my exposed cock.

Apparently, Shorty saw me do that. He addressed me again, "No fucking way - this turns you on that much?!? To know your wife is sucking my dick?!?"

I didn't need to answer him verbally. I was gratifyingly stroking myself.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Shorty suddenly blurted out. Breathlessly, he asked my wife, "Mouth or chest?"

I heard the pop as my wife's wet mouth slid off his well-salivated cock. There was a desperate urgency in her voice as she replied, "All over my chest! Give it to me!!"

I glanced over just in time to see the combination of their two hands - which had become intertwined around his cock - furiously pumping ropes of thick cum onto her bare breasts. Shorty's eyes were closed as he groaned helplessly, "Ohhhh fuckkkk..."