Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 1
After 22 years of marriage, the Wagners’ marriage has lost some heat. A quick weekend in the Caribbean could re-ignite that spark…
I turn this way and that and try to picture myself in the black bikini on a Caribbean beach rather than under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the small changing booth. My pale, mid-winter skin tone doesn’t help. It’s a stretch, but I try.
A sunny, white sand beach a thousand miles from home is the only place I’d consider wearing a bikini like this. No matter how much I tug the bottom, it is not covering my butt. The front is cut so tight I might have to get waxed to wear this thing. I’m shaved, but I see stubble in the full-length mirror in front of me.
My breasts are just a modest handful, but they still want to fall out of the scant black triangles connected by gold chains that comprise the bikini top. I hated my smaller breasts when I was younger, but at forty-six I appreciate they’ve stayed pert, perky, and cute, even after three kids. My friends’ huge boobs are hanging low these days. I’ve got a nice body because I work at keeping it that way. My body isn’t the issue. I look pretty good in the skimpy bikini. It’s just that a respectable suburban mom should not be wearing something like this. The other women in our neighborhood would claw my eyes out if I went around their husbands wearing this. I would never do that anyway.
The bikini and the other clothes I’ve picked out to try on are for our upcoming vacation — the first adult vacation Max and I have taken in over ten years. We’ll just be gone for a long, four-day weekend, but I can’t wait. I love my kids, but four days of just being an adult and laying on a beach sounds heavenly. I decide to put the bikini in the buy pile with a couple of other new swimsuits I’ve chosen. I have a few skimpy vacation dresses to try on as well, and I’m less confident about those.
Max says I deserve to show off my body because I work so hard to keep in shape, but I am not the type to run around half-naked — at least I haven’t been since college. I didn’t dress like a hooker, but I liked cute, little flouncy dresses as much as the next girl. I see the cougars when I’m out, showing off their store-bought tits and filler-smoothed faces and they make me cringe. I don’t want people to think I’m trying too hard for a mom in her forties, and I certainly don’t want anyone to think I’m on the prowl. I love my husband very much.
I select four out of the six dresses I try on. One was just too tight in the wrong places. I didn’t like the way the other one looked on my butt. I go to check out and head to Victoria’s Secret thinking about how much fun it will be to model the new outfits for Max.
“Are you ready?” I call out from the bathroom.
Max laughs. “You’re taking forever in there. If I get any readier, I’m going to break down the door.”
“With your dick?” I giggle. I’ve noticed I giggle when I feel sexy.
“Maybe.”
I slide the pocket door into the wall and strut into the bedroom. I’m not a strutter, but this dress makes me feel like one. I don’t know if I’ll have the nerve to wear it in public — even at a resort — but I’ll model for my husband in our bedroom.
“Oh my god,” Max gasps, jaw hitting the floor. “You’re going to wear that on our vacation?”
“I don’t know. Is it too much?” I strike a pose with my hand on my hip.
Max laughs. “Too much? There’s hardly anything to it.”
“Stop. You know what I mean. I’ll go change out of it if you think I’m showing too much skin.”
“Nonono, do a spin for me. You know you can never show too much skin for me, Sasha.”
I oblige him and execute a slow spin like I’ve reached the end of a runway. Max is right that there’s hardly anything to the dress and that I can never show enough skin for him. The dress is a lavender, filmy, thin dotted chiffon and barely long enough to be decent. But the show-stopping part is that deep V cut to my navel in the front — and it’s essentially backless. A string behind my neck is the only thing holding it together. If my boobs were bigger, I’d be falling out of it. I’m barely covered anyway. Oh, and the inner thigh slit will flash everything if I’m not careful. There’s no way I could wear this in public, right?
“Jesus, you have to wear that at Sun King. You look incredible and everyone who sees you will flip.”
“Every guy, you mean.”
“Well yeah, but you’re so hot you might turn some women too.”
“Stop it!”
“Seriously, Sasha. I love that you have the confidence to buy that dress.”
“Buy it, yes. I don’t know if I’ll ever wear it in public.”
“Sun King is the perfect place.”
“And you don’t mind if other guys see me in this?”
I do another turn and deliberately pose to open the thigh slit. He’d see my panties if I was wearing any.
“I can’t wait for guys to see you in that,” he says, voice husky. I’m sure I see a twitch in his pajama pants. No question Max likes the dress.
I smile. “Somehow, I knew that would be your answer.”
Max is a bit of an odd duck. Most guys I’ve been with have been possessive and got grumpy when men paid too much attention to me. They were proud of their hot girlfriend, but they didn’t like men sniffing around their woman. Max is the opposite. He likes other men checking me out, even flirting with me on the rare occasions it happens. Sometimes I think he likes it too much. Nothing makes my husband happier than the way guys look at my ass when I wear my favorite pair of jeans.
“Can I help it that I like that other men want what I have?”
“I suppose not. It’s just different. I guess I should appreciate that you still think I’m hot after twenty-two years of marriage.”
“Always, babe. And besides, you should be pleased I’m so secure that I’m good with you getting attention.”
Max has a point. He’s a strong, confident man, and I know he loves and trusts me. I know he has no fear I’m going to run off with another man — although I bet I’d get plenty of offers in this dress. It might be fun to make Max think I’m considering one to teach him a lesson.
I move between his legs and rest my arms on his shoulders. His kind green eyes only meet mine for a moment before they’re pulled to my barely covered chest. My nipples are obvious through the chiffon. Warmth floods me when his hand brushes my smooth thigh to explore inside my dress’s slit. Fingertips tease my furrow and I gasp. He knows I love to be teased. Love it and hate it.
“I think you forgot something, Sasha.”
“What’s that?” He traces up and down, slowly parting my lips. My stomach flutters.
“Only naughty girls don’t wear panties.”
“I…ahh…didn’t think I needed them for you. They’d only slow you down.”
“You don’t need them at all with this dress. You should skip them at Sun King.”
I shake my head, biting my lip. He’s probing deeper. He must feel my growing wetness. He keeps looking from my chest to my face to watch my reactions as he touches me. I hoped something like this would happen when Max saw the dress. Our lovemaking has grown stale over the last couple of years. It’s good when it happens, but I wish it would happen more and that when it did, it had some of the heat that it used to. I want more than good. This dress seems to have sparked his old flame.
“Won’t I be too exposed? I’ll show everything if I’m not careful.”
“Mmm, I don’t mind if you don’t, babe. I love the easy access to your puss.”
Max slides his fingers deep inside me. I moan and my knees are weak.
“Ahhh…she likes it too…”
“I could just slip my hand up here under the table if you wear this to dinner.”
“Ahhh…Max…I don’t know if I can…”
“Mmm, you can babe. You wouldn’t have bought this dress if you didn’t want to be seen in it.”
Maybe he’s right and I have a secret exhibitionist side. Max isn’t the only one who likes it when I get attention. I’m just usually too modest to seek it — especially not in a dress like this. It’s not just his fingers slowly stroking inside me that has my skin prickling with excited heat. I think about Max showing me off, teasing me in public, and it’s so hot. My sheath tightens around his fingers. I’d love to be that daring.
My hips move of their own accord, matching his tempo, but urging him to go faster. I want him to fuck me tonight, but coming from the teasing first would be sweet. I know my moans are encouraging him. Max loves watching me get off almost as much as I love doing it.
He pushes through the deep neckline and cups my breast under the dress. My eyes close and I moan louder. He perfectly kneads my flesh and captures my throbbing pink tip between his fingers. Oh god, it feels so good to be touched. I’m kind of easy because I just love having my tits teased, but Max knows exactly what I need. His gentle rolling and pinching of my nipple has me gasping and panting for it.
“Ahhh…Max…”
“I know you want to show off in this dress, don’t you?”
I shake my head, so close to an orgasm I’m trembling.
“I’m not going to let you come until you admit it, Sasha.”
“Come on…ahhh…”
Max takes his fingers from me, and I whimper. He’s still massaging my firm flesh up top, but that won’t quite get me there. He teases my entrance with his fingers, and I sink onto them, but then they’re gone again. Bastard! I could just finish myself — there’s a toy in my nightstand drawer — but I get myself off enough. I want Max to do it.
“You want men to want you, don’t you Sasha?”
“Oh fuck…yes…I do…I’m hot in this dress and I want everyone to know it!”
“I thought so.” He chuckles in triumph.
I nearly sob with gratitude when his fingers enter me again. He pumps them hard and fast, and I tighten while screwing them back. I didn’t realize how horny I’ve been all day until just now. I looked forward to showing off for my husband, but now I know how much I crave just this reaction. Max is right. I do want to be seen in this dress. Mostly I want to turn him on, but maybe not just him. Maybe I do want men to look at me and get hard, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Begging to come doesn’t count.
Max rubs my happy little button with his thumb while his fingers work inside me. I’m soaked and my excitement runs down his fingers. God, I’m so close. Almost there. Max senses it. He knows my body so well, even if he doesn’t practice with it as much as he should these days. At the last second, he gives my nipple a mean twist and I screech.
“Ahhh fuck…fuck…ahhh yeah…fuck…ahhh…AHHH!”
I come so hard I fall against him, clinging while sweet ecstasy blows through me like a sudden summer storm. Max keeps fingering me, and I hear how drenched I am. He hugs me to keep me from falling over, but his fingers still move in me, and I feel like I can’t stop coming. I grab his wrist and pull his hand from between my legs because it’s too much. We still cling to each other, and it feels good.
“I love it when you come so hard you start cursing.” He sounds pleased with himself.
“I love it when you make me come that hard. You don’t think the kids overheard, do you?”
“Chris and Carly are still at work,” he says. Those are our two oldest. “Hopefully, Caleb has his headphones on, because you were intense, Sasha.”
“Stop it!”
I shove him backward on the bed and pull at his pajama pants until he gets the hint and lifts his butt so I can rip them down his legs. His little soldier stands at attention. It’s not that little. I knew he had to be hard. I smile, happy that I still make him so hard. Max looks surprised and pleased when I kneel. I’m not proud of it, but we’ve become one of those occasional blowjob couples, which I never thought would happen. I used to pride myself on my sloppy blowjob skills. Regardless, Max has earned it tonight.
Max drips with excitement before I even touch him, and he moans when I grasp it at the root. I pump it, squeezing more juice from him, and rub it against my lips, tongue flicking out to taste the salty nectar. I swab the head until I’ve gotten all his precum and keep licking, going down one side of his shaft and back up the other. The way he looks at me when I do it is thrilling, and my core tightens in anticipation. I’m using my mouth now, but he’s going to end up in my pussy.
I brush back my raven hair so I can keep watching him while his cock disappears into my mouth. The eye contact is my favorite part of giving head. Well, that and getting a guy off. I’m a people pleaser. I can see that Max is very pleased.
“Aww, damn, Sasha babe, that’s…”
Max silences when I suck hard, taking him down to where I hold him. I’m out of practice deep-throating. My tongue squiggles along his underside when I draw back, and I suckle the tip. It’s my turn to tease. He gathers my hair back when it falls in my face again and I think he might try to take control and fuck my mouth, but that’s not who Max is. He isn’t the aggressive guy who’ll try that stuff or spank me hard. My husband is very sweet. He just wants to watch his dick slipping in and out of my mouth. I’m happy to give him what he wants.
I’m slow and steady, bobbing on him, with the occasional pause to sluttily drag my lips down the side. Max moans my name and breathes deeply like he’s trying to control himself. He doesn’t want it over too soon. He’s silly if he thinks I’m going to let him come in my mouth. That’s not happening tonight. I need that somewhere else. Max almost loses it when I massage his balls.
“Sasha…uhnn…babe…”
His hips jack at my mouth and that’s how I know he’s just about there. I slide him out of my mouth, swirling my tongue over the head one last time to catch my saliva. Max stares in disbelief that I’m not finishing him.
“I need you to fuck me. I really need you, Max.”
Max is disappointed, but that evaporates when I stand and start pushing him further onto the bed. He tosses off his t-shirt, his only remaining clothing, and scoots to the middle of our wide bed. Max hasn’t completely succumbed to middle age, but he’s softer now and hairier. It bothers him more than it bothers me. I think he’s cuddly, and right now I want to fuck him as much as I ever have.
I crawl after him, not even thinking of shedding the dress. I ache to be filled and I’m not wearing panties anyway. I feel possessed because I haven’t felt such an intense need in so long. He reaches to assist me when I straddle him, but I only raise up long enough to fit him against my dripping furrow and sink onto him.
“Ahh…yeah…mmmm…” I add a satisfied giggle when he fills me. I can’t contain my joy.
“Damn, you’re so ready babe,” he moans, holding my hips under the dress.
I sit up straight and grind on him, working my muscles and savoring being full. I’ve had bigger men, and they were incredible too, but Max has always felt perfect inside me like we were made for each other. He tries to steer my hips and get me moving. He’s impatient to get to it because I didn’t let him come in my mouth, but I’m going to get a proper fucking. I’ve earned it.
My body moves on instinct. I really love being on top because I can make sure I get exactly what I need. Short, rotating hip thrusts set off sparks in my pussy and I move faster. My need grows. Max digs his fingers into my ass to spur me. He’s feeling it too.
“Uhnn…look so hot…fucking me…in that dress…”
“Ahhh…yeah…is it kind of slutty…”
“Yeah babe…so slutty…I love it…love watching you…”
Max loves me being on top almost as much as I do. He’s so into watching me screw and come. He grabs my breasts with both hands. I reach under my hair to release the tie holding the dress together. The top falls and he kneads my naked tits. I ride harder and they bounce in his hands. He rolls my tips and I ride harder. Oh god, it feels so good.
I lean back and thrust my hips forward, slamming onto him. He feels so good driving up into me. I’m so close! I fall forward to churn my hips harder and pound onto his cock. Yes! This is what I need! Oh god, it’s what I need! Images flash through my mind out of nowhere of me wearing this dress at the resort, Max beaming with pride while other men stare, hoping my tits will fall out of it. I imagine Max touching me at dinner and trying to stay quiet when I come. Oh god, it’s too much! It’s too fucking hot!
“Ahhh…fuck…fuck…yeah…ahhh fuck…”
“Fuck me…fuck me…come for me Sasha…come for me babe…” he chants.
“Ahhh…ahhh…yeah…ahhh fuck…fuck…FUCK!”
I howl when I explode, my body vibrating with ecstasy. It races through me in an endless loop. I feel Max blast inside me, and I peak again, tightening around him to draw every last drop into me. Feeling a man come has always done something primal to me. I fold onto his chest, still trembling, and he holds me tight.
“I think maybe this vacation could be good for us,” he says, panting.
“Mmm, you think?” I purr, snuggling tighter against him.
“This could be a chance for us to just be husband and wife again, without all our responsibilities weighing us down.”
“You mean our kids?” I laugh.
“You know what I mean, Sasha.”
“I do, and I think you’re right.”
“We could even get a little crazy.”
“No one will know us there, we’ll have nothing but time to chill and let our imaginations run wild. Think of the possibilities. Remember when we were young and wild?”
“I think we can still be wild if we want to, Max.”
“Exactly.”
I get his point. We were never hanging from the rafters or going to sex club people, but Max and I used to be more spontaneous and seek kinky thrills. Vacation wouldn’t be the first time he teases me under a table. We used to love the thrill of finding a secluded, semi-public corner for a quickie. The risk of getting caught was such a rush. We even teased each other about threesomes and going out to pick up strangers, finding the illicit thrill exciting even if we knew we’d never do it.
We share a slow, sultry kiss, both our minds filled with dirty possibilities.
“I’ll play your games, Mr. Wagner. But you’d better be able to keep up with me.”
“I love it when you’re dirty, Mrs. Wagner. I’ll do my best.”
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 2
Braless Sasha flirting with another man at the airport bar leads to teasing on the plane and a struggle to come quietly…

Pressuring Sasha into taking an adult vacation is the smartest thing I’ve ever done. She’s gotten over her initial trepidation about being so far away from the kids — Chris is twenty and the other two are teenagers, they’ll be fine — and she’s excited about the chance to be off on our own for a few days. I’m excited to use the time to get Sasha to embrace her sexy side. I see it’s already working.
Our last mini, just-us getaway was for our tenth anniversary, and we were in a different place then. The kids were all under ten years old and we were exhausted. We were grateful to be able to sit on a beach without having to chase them and keep them from drowning. Sasha and I planted ourselves in beach chairs and let the staff bring us drinks. We started with great and frequent vacation sex, but Sasha got a bad sunburn on the second day, which limited our sexy fun. I’m hoping for more this time.
I don’t want to say our sex life has become stale because that’s an ugly word and sounds overdramatic to me. I’m still as attracted to my wife as ever. Hell, I’m probably more attracted to her now than I’ve ever been. I’ve definitely got the hottest wife among all the guys I know. It’s not even close. Sasha works hard at the gym three early mornings a week and it shows. I feel guilty that I don’t have that drive, but I don’t think I’ve slipped that much, and she hasn’t complained. But I’d be lying if I claimed some of the heat hasn’t dissipated from our marriage.
Sasha is a busy physical therapist and works long, weird hours. My office job is nine to five, there is still too much to keep up with. I’m always running Caleb to practices, and I’m an assistant coach on his little league team. I’m on the board of our local civic association. Sasha volunteers for everything at the kids’ school when she can. We’re over-extended and just fall into bed at the end of too many days. And even when I have the energy to put the moves on my wife, she usually says my timing is bad.
It’s a sad reality, but too often it’s easier to jerk it in the shower when I’m horny than try to line things up with Sasha. I’m always thinking about her if that makes it any better. I’m not terribly guilty about it because I know she does the same — the masturbation part I mean. I hope she’s thinking about me when she does it, but I can’t know, and I feel weird about asking her. We don’t talk about those private hobbies. But I’ve seen the oddly shaped sex toy — it’s kind of like a lavender beehive — in her nightstand drawer when I went looking for her booklight, and I’ve even heard it buzzing when she thought she had a minute alone. I paused at the closed bedroom door and got hard trying to picture it, but I didn’t join her. I walked away and jerked off later. Maybe we are stale, but this vacation is a chance to change all that.
A co-worker told me about Sun King. His getaway there with his wife changed their lives. The place looked great on its website. It’s built around a curved beach on a bay in Jamaica that acts like a private cove just for the resort. They even have a small rocky island just offshore where they’ve built a bar and a lounging area. The island is for nude guests. The all-inclusive resort has seven dining experiences onsite, in addition to its daily buffet, and four pools, two of which have swim-up bars. Best of all, it is eighteen and up only. We won’t have to worry about shrieking kids running around and shattering our peace. Sun King looked like paradise to me on their website.
Sasha complained it would be expensive. She was too busy with all her things. Who would watch the kids? I was a man on a mission and persisted. We were doing well and had the money for a long weekend away. The world would not end if we disappeared for a few days. The kids are old enough to take care of themselves, I argued, but my mother could come to stay with them if that made Sasha feel better. She secretly craved taking some time away and I gradually won her over. The trip was booked, and our excitement began to build.
The night she modeled that insanely sexy dress for me confirmed that Sasha was fully onboard to have fun at Sun King. She’d never wear anything like that at home. I was shocked she’d bought it at all. Sasha always looks good and is proud of her body, but she’s not the type to flaunt it. I’d love her to flaunt it. I didn’t know what to expect when she said she wanted to show me what she’d bought for our vacation, but something like that dress never entered my mind as a possibility.
We were fun and playful that night and it lit a fire in us that’s been burning ever since. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to tease my wife and make her wait to come. She’s got the sexiest little moans and whimpers. The fashion shows continued for a few days, and I told Sasha I couldn’t wait to see her wear the outfits at Sun King.
Privately, the bikinis were my favorite. Sasha still wears a two-piece swimsuit on occasion, and she looks great in them, but they’re mom bikinis. The swimsuits she bought for our vacation decidedly are not. The string bikinis hardly covered her ass and made her tits look amazing. She had one with chains instead of straps or strings, and a ring holding the top together in the middle, that plumped up her tits and made them look even better. I salivated over Sasha in those bikinis, and I knew every other guy at the resort would too.
I love it when Sasha receives attention from men, the more leering the better. I know that makes me weird, but catching a guy looking at my wife like he wants to fuck her makes me crazy — like instantly hard crazy. It’s not that I don’t get jealous, I do, but the thrilling jolt I get when men lust after my wife is more powerful. I’ve even had fantasies where a hot guy does more than look. Watching Sasha like that would be brain-melting hot, but she would never do anything like that. I don’t even know if I could handle it happening anyway.
New clothes aren’t the only things I’m counting on to make our vacation extra spicy. My secret knowledge that Sasha likes toys led me to pick up a couple of new items to tease her while we’re away. The anticipation is killing me. Thank god, the wait is almost over.
I’m thrilled when the heat is cranked up against the winter chill at the airport. Sasha accepted half of my first sexy vacation challenge thinking it would be easy. She’s cold everywhere she goes and thought nothing of going braless for our flight because she anticipated being in a sweater the entire time. Only we would know she was swinging free. The other half of the challenge was to go without panties, which she just laughed at.
Sasha actually prefers being unencumbered by a bra and rarely wore one during the pandemic, but she’s not the type of woman who likes to go bouncing around in public. She doesn’t try to draw that kind of attention to herself, which is why those new vacation clothes are so exciting.
Sasha always dresses for comfort when we travel and chose a super soft, worn maroon baseball t-shirt — the kind that’s so distressed it’s almost see-through — paired with black leggings. She tossed off her t-shirt, shed the black bra she’d put on beneath it, and went to her drawer for another top.
“Uh-uh. I want you to wear that top,” I said.
“But…”
Sasha stopped her protest, smiled, and slipped back into the tee. The round part of the big “P” seemed to highlight that she was braless. She posed and said, “Is this good?”
“It’s perfect, babe.”
I love watching her shed the sweater at the TSA checkpoint. The t-shirt is snug enough over her perky handfuls to follow the curves of her breasts but not look painted on. The younger guy working the machine can’t keep his eyes off the tight points in her shirt. The great thing about Sasha’s nipples is that they are always hard, which is one of the reasons I love it when she’s braless. If it was a white t-shirt, he would see the dark pink of her tips.
I think he finds an excuse to wand her just to get a closer look. He probably wishes he could frisk her. I confess that would have been hot to watch. We both have fun watching the way her cute tits jiggle when she gathers her stuff from the conveyer belt and shrugs back into her sweater. The lucky guy may even have gotten a look down her shirt when Sasha bent over to slip on her shoes. His smile makes me think he did.
Neither of us would have thought to drink at 6:30 in the morning under any other circumstances, but I steer Sasha to the bar and order us both bloody marys. She gives me a strange look when she accepts the drink. We toast our vacation, and she laughs at how spicy the cocktail is. Sasha is more skeptical when I order her a second drink while still nursing my first.
“Why are you trying to get me drunk?”
“I’m not. Our vacation has started, so why not act like it? You love a good bloody mary.”
“I’m going to be loopy before eight a.m.!”
“Sasha, you can handle a couple of cocktails,” I reply, noting her cheeks are already rosy — hopefully from the booze and not from the spicy. I don’t have a plan. I just want her loose.
“I’ve got my eye on you, mister. I think you’re up to no good.” Sasha fans her face and adds, “Are they trying to prepare us for the Caribbean? It’s really hot in here.”
I shrug and try to contain my glee when she loses the sweater. Again, no plan, I just know guys in the airport will notice she’s braless and I’m excited they’ll be staring at her tits. That’s normal, right? I excuse myself to the restroom to give her time to get noticed. She wears her glasses instead of contacts, minimal makeup, and her jet-black hair is piled up in a bun — showing off the sexy tattoo on the back of her neck. She’s still gorgeous.
Sasha is not alone when I come out of the bathroom, and I hang back. The guy with her is obviously a business traveler — maybe a salesman or something because his polo has a logo on it. He’s a good-looking guy, about our age, full head of hair, broad shoulders. She’ll talk to anyone, despite protesting she’s not a people person. Sasha is also incredibly flirty when she drinks, although I don’t know if a couple bloody marys will do the trick this early in the morning. But she’s smiling and laughing with her new friend and not looking around wondering where I am.
The guy tries to be subtle, but he’s glancing at the way her tits wiggle when she moves, and Sasha is an animated talker. She must notice it too, but she’s not blowing him off. I think she likes getting attention from a handsome guy. She’s married, but she’s not dead. Sasha is all smiles, and it’s been a thousand years, but I think I remember what she looks like when she’s flirting, and this is flirting.
I feel prickly heat from my head to my toes and I adjust how I’m standing because I’m plumping up in my cargo shorts — thank goodness they’re loose. Watching my wife flirt with another man is electrifying. It won’t go anywhere — it can’t — but seeing another man interested in my Sasha like that triggers something in my lizard brain. It’s primal and makes me puff out my chest the same way my shorts are puffing out even though they’re loose. I love knowing my mate is desirable, and yet it’s more than that.
I know other men want to fuck my wife — she’s hot. Of course, they do. I’ve admitted that I like when Sasha gets attention from men, but it’s much deeper than that in a way I know is not normal. I feel something more, something different, like maybe the impossible is possible.
Sasha likes flirting with this guy. I see it in her body language, and it gives me filthy thoughts. Maybe she would like more. Maybe if she thought she could get away with it, she would sneak into the family restroom with this guy and let him bend her over a changing table. Damn, I would love to see what she looks like when she’s bent over and getting slammed from behind. Just thinking Sasha could be the kind of woman who’d do something like that makes me woozy. I don’t think about her cheating — I wouldn’t like that — but I love that she might be so horny that she can’t help herself. Hey, I don’t have to make sense.
One of the overhead announcements must be for the guy’s flight and he excuses himself. Sasha shakes her head and laughs at something he says. I think he tries to offer her his number. I guess the diamond and the wedding band on her finger don’t concern him. He leaves and that’s my cue to return to my sexy wife.
“Did you get lost?” she asks.
“There was a line.” I ignore her skeptical look. “Saw you made a new friend.”
“Jim was just grabbing a drink before his flight and took the seat.”
“I’m sure his choice of seat had nothing to do with your current, uhm, condition.”
Sasha follows my eyes to her tits and her cheeks redden. She might have liked Jim’s attention, but I love that she’s still enough of the girl I met all those years ago that she’s embarrassed if you point it out.
“This isn’t a condition. They’re always like this.”
“I know, and I love it. Why do you think I wanted you to go braless?”
I fight the urge to rub my hand over her chest and feel her tight peaks burrow into my palm. I might love teasing her tits more than anything else. Sasha reaches for her sweater, but I snatch it away from her.
“Gimme that!”
“You don’t need it. You’re hot, remember?”
Her eyes narrow behind her dark-framed glasses, and she glares at me. I’m shocked when she lifts her glass and downs the remaining half of her second bloody mary. Sasha throws her carry-on over her shoulder, which juts her tits forward.
“We’d better get to our gate. Our flight is soon.”
Sasha proudly struts through the airport with her tits jiggling and her nipples pointing like she’s teaching me a lesson, but I follow in her wake and love every second of it. I see the attention she draws and every guy who stares at her bouncing tits is a new shot of adrenaline. The vague desire I’ve always had to see other guys lusting after my wife comes into sharper focus. My balls ache by the time we reach our gate and sit.
“Are you okay, Max? You look flushed.”
I chuckle. “Just from trying to keep up with you. You were walking fast.”
“I guess I’m just feeling…perky.” I swear she points her tits at me. Sasha loves making a point.
“It shows, babe.”
“Stop. I’m begging you.”
“Guys are noticing, and a part of you secretly loves the attention. You can admit it, Sasha. I don’t mind at all.”
“You like it. You always have. I don’t understand why, but I know you do.”
“I like having something other men covet. Isn’t that a pretty basic male thing?”
“Mmm, except I’m not something. I’m your wife. Do you really want men coveting me?”
I lean in close. “I like that you like it. I like that being wanted makes you hot.”
“It does not.”
“I saw you flirting with that guy. You were glowing, babe.”
Sasha allows a smile. “Glowing is a strong word.”
“That guy across and to your left is staring so hard it’s like he’s trying to summon x-ray vision, not that he needs it with that t-shirt.”
“It’s not see-through. It’s not that obvious, is it?”
“We both know it is, babe, but that’s awesome. And that college kid over there, he looks like he’s trying to memorize your tits.”
Sasha looks around, finding her admirers. She makes eye contact with the first guy and they both look away. Her body tenses, but not in a bad way. She’s more careful with the college kid and doesn’t spook him. Her hand rests on my thigh and its grip tightens.
“And these guys staring at my boobs doesn’t bother you at all?”
“You have great tits, Sasha. They should be staring. I know you like it, and that’s what I like.”
Sasha looks confused but kisses me. A quick peck turns into a lingering kiss with her tongue flicking to tease me. Those bloody marys must have gone to her head, but I’ll take it.
“I do not understand you at all, Mr. Wagner.”
“I just want you to be the sexiest version of yourself you can be, Mrs. Wagner. This vacation is going to be great.”
“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”
I’m beginning to think Max and I have different ideas about our vacation. I thought it would be fun to get a little daring, wear some sexy outfits, and maybe even go to that nude part of the resort if I have enough to drink. I feel like Max wants to crank the kink up to eleven.
They call our flight and I process what’s already happened while we board the plane — or I would be if I wasn’t distracted by looking to see who’s noticed by boobs bouncing in my t-shirt. I agreed to skip my bra without thinking. It seemed harmless enough and in line with wanting to dip a toe into the risqué pool. But now, Max has me thinking every guy in the airport terminal is staring at me.
I knew the guy at the bar was checking me out while we talked, and I liked it. I didn’t want to admit I was flirting back because that’s a weird thing to admit to your husband. I liked the attention, and I didn’t mind that he kept checking out my tits because he was cute. The guy staring from across the waiting area at our gate was not cute. I wasn’t offended but felt weird when we made eye contact and I knew he was fucking me in his mind.
The young guy looking at me caused a very different reaction, which I hope my poker face hid from Max. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. I couldn’t believe a kid young enough to be my, well, nephew was looking at me like that. He was hot and fit, like a college athlete, and he liked what he saw. The tingle I’d felt from the bar concentrated in my center. I kissed Max to distract him from reading my face — and because I was getting horny.
We luck out and get a row to ourselves. The flight is crowded, but not quite full. I think our end seat isn’t taken because we’re on a loud row by the engine. Max is a dear and booked us the window and middle seats because I like the window. With his broad shoulders, he prefers the aisle. I’m confused when he doesn’t take the aisle and instead squeezes in beside me.
The flight to Montego Bay is almost four hours and I pull my sweater over me like a blanket to settle in for a cat nap once the plane hits cruising altitude. We were up very early and I’m feeling those bloody marys. Max is on his iPad. I calm my brain and push all my questions about his intentions out of my head. I’m not going to ask them on the plane with people around. We can’t quietly discuss anything with the dull roar of the engines to our right. My slumber is only interrupted once when the flight attendant brings the beverage cart around. I don’t know how long I’m out, but my sleep is fitful.
My awareness of Max touching me comes gradually as I surface from my nap. I’m on my side facing him with my head on his shoulder. I try to push him away at first because he’s disturbing my sleep. But he’s persistent and it feels good, and I smile with my eyes closed because the soft throbbing in my nipple is spreading heat throughout my body. I’m content to pretend I’m still sleeping and let him touch me.
Max knows just how to touch me, and he’s always loved waking me up like this. I gave him carte blanche to wake me up for sex anytime he wanted when we first started dating. I’ve always loved just being taken like that, and waking up horny is perfect because I’m being fucked before I even know what’s going on. That’s waned over the years as we’ve needed our sleep more, but sometimes I miss it.
I remember where we are when my brain fully engages and I push at his hand again, but I’m so turned on the effort is weak. He’s had to have been teasing me for a while. Worry about being caught clashes with the thrill of the risk in my head. I must still be tipsy from the bloody marys if I’m not stopping him.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, glaring at him. Max is vaguely blurry because I took my glasses off to nap.
“I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, babe. You look so good.”
“Someone will see us!” It’s hard to yell quietly, but I try. I look past him, but the people in the seats on the other side of the aisle are blurred and I don’t know what they’re doing.
“No one can tell what I’m doing. If you keep your voice down, everyone will think I’m just napping too.”
Max has a point. He flipped up all the armrests in our row and he’s turned to his side, facing me, like he’s napping too. No one can see me past him, and he’s touching me under my sweater anyway. His hand massaging my breast is so warm. I wish my tee wasn’t in the way. He catches my tingling tip between his thumb and forefinger, and I gasp.
“You really need to stop that.” The warning is a quiet moan.
“Why? Seems like you’re enjoying it.”
Another gasp, a trembling one this time. “Ahhh…that’s the problem… What’s your plan?” My voice drops to a playful purr, which isn’t going to convince him to stop. “I’m not slipping into the restroom to fuck you.”
“Do we get partial Mile High Club credit if I just make you come on a plane?”
“You cannot…mmm…make me come here.”
“Maybe you don’t want me to, but I can.” He chuckles.
Max releases me and I’m relieved and disappointed — until his hand worms between my legs. He’s cupping my mound and pressing before I can tighten my thighs to keep him out. The pressure pulses pleasure through my body and I feel my remaining resistance slipping away.
“I take that back. I feel that you want me to. How wet are you, Sasha?”
“I…ahhh…”
I don’t finish answering because I don’t want to. I won’t admit that I’m soaked. I don’t have to anyway because he can feel it. My leggings are damp. I bury my face in his shoulder, bite my lip and try to be quiet. Years of making love with three kids in the house have trained me well, but I don’t know if I can be quiet enough to come on a crowded plane. And Max is going to make me come. I can’t deny it now. His hand, rubbing between my legs, feels so good. Maybe I would slip into the restroom with him. That would be so hot. I’m losing my mind.
We haven’t even landed in Jamaica, and I already feel like I’m becoming someone else — the kind of woman who’d fuck in an airplane bathroom with people just beyond the thin walls. Max and I have been making love much more often in the lead-up to this trip as we’ve teased each other about how naughty we can be, but I didn’t anticipate being this naughty. Oh god, my whole body is throbbing. Is this going to leave a wet spot on the front of my leggings? Fuck, I’m so dirty!
I have Sasha right where I want her and damn it’s hot. Her hips work to push her pussy against my hand. She does not want me to stop. She wants to come. I admire her restraint in keeping her voice down. Her face is pressed to my shoulder, and I hear her moans and gasps, but I don’t think anyone else can hear her over the engines.
Choosing this row was not an accident. I’ve fantasized about doing something like this with my wife for a long time. I always loved seeing just how far she’d go, but we lost that somewhere along the way when sex became routine. I want it back. Sasha is my sex goddess and it’s time to see her potential fully realized.
Her leggings squish when I rub them and I’d like to say I don’t want to ruin them for her, but I really just want to feel how wet she is. I wiggle my fingers against the waistband, but those things are too tight, especially in this position. I’m thwarted and ready to finish her through the leggings when Sasha shocks me by wiggling the leggings and thong down. Holy shit! She is really into this.
My next shock comes when I touch her pussy and find it’s perfectly smooth — waxed smooth. We haven’t done it in a couple of days because Sasha claimed she was too busy getting everything ready for our trip. I think she wanted this to be a surprise. My fingers slip over her perfect, hot flesh and inside her. She is drenched and grasps my digits. Sasha cries out and bites my shoulder, which hurts through my t-shirt.
“Fuck, Sasha. That hurts.”
“Ahhh…your…fault…”
“Your pussy feels nice. Is this for me?”
“Or whoever…sees it…ahhh…those bikinis are…tiny…mmm…”
I groan and my cock feels like it’s going to tear out of my cargo shorts. Thinking of Sasha’s cunt barely hidden by a tiny strip of bikini fabric is too much. I imagine her on a lounge by the pool, opening her legs to show it off. Fuck!
“Do you wanna come, Sasha?”
“Yeah,” she squeaks, with a curt nod.
Sasha fumbles between us and rubs my cargo shorts until she finds my shaft and grasps it. Goddam. “You want to come too, don’t you? Ahhh…”
“Let’s go into that bathroom,” I tease.
“That would be…ahhh…so hot…we can’t…”
We’d never get away with it, but I wish we could. I don’t really have the balls to try. Playing with Sasha like this is one thing. I’m depending on her to stay quiet enough to get away with this. And it may make me a jerk, but I’m okay with her being discovered, while I could never face a plane of people who know I just fucked in the bathroom. I want my wife to be seen, not me. Being watched isn’t my kink. I’ll die if a flight attendant taps on my shoulder right now.
Sasha has nimble fingers from years of crochet and plucks open my shorts, despite her distraction. She can’t get into my boxers, but she still uses the limited access to jerk me inside my shorts. I grunt and shudder and try not to come the moment she touches me. This is not the plan but fuck it’s good.
“Sasha…babe…”
“If…ahhh…I’m doing this…mmmm…so are you…ahhh…”
My head is cloudy. I’m going to come and it’s going to be a mess. I’ve been hard since I watched Sasha at the TSA checkpoint. I need relief as much as she does. I love that my wife is so feisty, but I’m mad I’ll have to deal with the mess.
“First one…to come…loses…” I grunt.
“Ahhh…yeah…ahhh…”
I slam my fingers into her, rubbing her clit with the heel of my hand. I’ve thrown caution to the wind because the motion is obvious. I can’t count on my bulk hiding this from the people across the aisle. They were watching their phones when I started this, but the motion might attract their attention. Will they alert the flight attendants? Will we get arrested? Fuck! I can’t stop!
Sasha’s orgasm hits first and she floods my hand. She bites me again — not as hard — and shouts into my shoulder. I think she’s quiet enough, but her muffled cry is so sexy. Feeling her shake and come is intoxicating and I finish just after her, spurting my shame into my boxers. Her fingers get sticky as the stain spreads. We keep our hands on each other’s fun bits until we stop shaking.
“That…was…so…wrong…” she pants.
“That was so…fucking hot…”
“You need to behave, Mr. Wagner. You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Seeing you like this is worth it, Mrs. Wagner.”
Sasha grabs me and kisses me so hard I think she trying to push her tongue through my skull. “God, I love you.”
“I’ve never loved you more.”
“I don’t think that’s love you’re feeling, but I’ll take it,” she says, squeezing my soft dick. “Are we clear?”
I fix my shorts and turn to sit up in my seat. Sasha wiggles back into her leggings beside me. The old man in the seat across from us is smiling like a hungry jackal. He looks past me to see Sasha’s pretty, flushed face. I don’t think he’s going to rat us out. His wife beside him looks annoyed. I hope he can keep her quiet.
“I think we’re good,” I sigh.
“Except for that.” Sasha points at the stain on my crotch and laughs.
“Shit.”
“I’ve got you, honey.”
Sasha bends down and grabs a water from her bag. Before I realize what she’s doing, she tips it into my lap. The water is still cold enough to shock me and I curse.
“Oh no, honey, you spilled your water all over yourself,” she calls out with zero subtlety.
“Sasha,” I growl.
“You’d better go clean up.”
The shock wears off and Sasha’s laughter makes me laugh too. “I guess I did. I’m going to go wipe up this mess.” I go to stand, but before I do, I whisper, “I won, by the way.”
“Oh, what did you win?”
I chuckle. “I’ll tell you when we land.”
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 3
All of the men checking out Sasha during their travels just makes Max want to expose her more at the resort leading to a hot time on their balcony…

I’m light and breezy when we deplane in Jamaica, clinging to my husband’s arm all the way down the gangway and into the terminal. I’m still giddy from my mid-air orgasm and very appreciative of Max for giving it to me, even if I thought he’d lost his mind when I awoke to him touching me. I don’t even mind that guys are staring at my chest. Max has convinced me to embrace it.
Our path through customs is seamless and we collect our luggage before wandering around to find the shuttle to our resort. Max asks if I want a drink, but I’ve finally sobered up from my morning drinking and I’m happy to feel my bliss without alcoholic assistance. I’m beginning to think he wants to keep me drunk the whole four days we’re here. He must think I’m easy when I’m drunk. Sure, I’m flirty when I drink, but easy is a stretch.
The van to Sun King is a suspect old maroon Toyota instead of the cushy minibus I expected. And the driver, a lanky Black man with a toothy grin and wild dreads, isn’t someone I’d jump into a vehicle with if my husband wasn’t with me. Max explains the shuttle to the resort is an extra he purchased on the travel website and is not provided by the resort itself.
I feel guilty immediately realizing that’s some suburban, privileged White thinking right there. Well, half-White in my case. My mother is Korean, but I was raised in an upper-middle-class suburban world. Max has no reservations and helps the guy load our stuff into the van. Another couple joins us for the journey before we depart. They’re all over each other like newlyweds and barely acknowledge us. They pile into the third-row seat and Max, and I take the middle.
The drive to Sun King takes a couple of hours on a road that follows the coast, cuts inland to wind around hills, and swings back to the coast. The views of the sapphire blue water are breathtaking. I can’t wait to arrive at the resort and hit the beach. It will still be early afternoon when we get there. The van doesn’t have air conditioning and even with all the windows down it’s sweltering. I’m hot and sticky for all the wrong reasons. Between the driver’s blaring music and the wind whipping through the van, Max and I can barely hear each other talk.
The coastal road is deeply rutted in some places and our driver apologizes every time he hits a jarring hole, but I begin to suspect he’s doing it on purpose. His eyes are on the rearview mirror, more specifically on me, with every shudder of the vehicle, and I realize he’s watching the way my braless breasts shake when he does it.
He’s not my type and the attention doesn’t excite me the way it did with that college kid back at our local airport, but I’m learning to generally like it when men look at me. I’ve always liked being appreciated — if the admirer isn’t a pig about it — but I feel something new. I blame Max. I like it, but I still blame my husband. I lean in so he can hear me without shouting.
“You know, Max, my mother would not appreciate you trying to turn me into some kind of trampy trollop trolling for guys’ attention.”
“Weren’t you kind of trampy before you ever met me?”
“I was not. Okay, maybe a little bit. I just liked to have fun. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all. I’m a fan.”
“Of course, you are.”
I did not meet my husband until after college, through work. He was a low-level employee at an insurance company, and I was a freshly-minted physical therapist. We got to talking when he went over his claimants’ files, and we hit it off. Max was very interested in how wild I was back in college, and I never minded sharing because I saw how excited the stories got him, but he was not allowed to turn around and use them against me.
“I’m just saying, I feel like you want me to be some kind of sex pot during this vacation and you know my strict, traditional mother would not approve.”
Max laughs. “I don’t think your mother has ever approved of me, even after we’ve given her three grandchildren. At some point, she’s going to have to accept that this marriage is going to stick.”
My mother doesn’t dislike Max, she’s just very strait-laced and he is not. She is a first-generation immigrant who came over with her family after the war and brought all her old country beliefs with her. I don’t know how she ended up with my dad, a blue-collar Irish Catholic. She’s proud of all my achievements — and always pushed me to work hard in school — but part of her would like to see me as a traditional mother like she was. I’ve always chafed at her narrow beliefs and restrictions. I know some of my wilder college antics were an effort to prove I was my own person. I love my mother and I love the Korean culture she’s taught me, but I wish she could loosen up and get with the modern times.
“Mom likes you. She would just like you better if you were more serious-minded.”
Max slides his arm around me and nibbles on the side of my neck. I squirm but don’t really want to get away. God, when did I become so horny? I lay my hand on his thigh and wonder if the driver will notice if I slide it up. Probably not. He’s too busy staring at my tits.
“You’re getting what you wanted, you know. Our driver can’t stop staring at me,” I whisper.
“Mmm, I’ve noticed. I can’t blame him. I can’t stop staring either. I feel sort of bad for him. I get to play with your amazing tits, while he can only watch.”
“Don’t you dare do it here while he’s watching.”
“I could show him exactly what he’s missing.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, I could always let him cop a feel when we stop for that break he promised.”
Max gets the weirdest look in his eyes like he’s actually considering it and likes it. Does he want some random guy feeling me up? I can’t believe he wants that, but even if he does, it’s not going to happen. Teasing and showing off is all well and good, but Max is the only person who gets to touch me. That’s what marriage is, right?
“Your body, your choice,” he replies.
“Very funny. I should do it just to teach you a lesson. I could hang back in the van and flirt with him.”
Max laughs. “You’d never.”
I swear he’s challenging me, and he knows I hate to back down. I really should teach him a lesson, but I am not letting this sweaty stranger touch me. He’s not hot — not that it matters. I wouldn’t let him do it if he was Mike Colter. I wouldn’t, but the idea bouncing around in my head makes my core tighten. I cross my arms over my chest because I don’t know what to do with what I’m feeling, and I know being stared at so sexually will only make it worse.
Sun King is everything the website promised. We’re greeted with bottles of water and fresh, cool towels, which is a relief after the hot van ride. Max goes to the desk to check us in, and I walk through the open-air lobby to look out over the back of the resort. A wide, gleaming-white patio looks down on a large pool with rows of lounges around it and a bar beside it. Beyond that and lower is a pristine white sand beach, which is smaller than I expected, but not crowded. A small island is far enough offshore to offer privacy. The island is the au natural part of the resort, as they call it. I know Max is dying to get me out there, but I don’t think he’s considered that he will have to get naked too. It might be worth the visit just to see that.
Most of the staff I see are local Jamaicans, but there is also a smattering of White employees too, who seem to have British accents. They all wear loose green and blue shirts and crisp white shorts. Guests mingle by the pool and on the beach. A long dock juts out from the beach and a couple there is boarding the catamaran. Sun King has every water activity imaginable if you’re not looking to just lay on the beach. Max and I have a loose plan of activities we’d like to try. Right now, I’m dying to get out on that beach.
“Isn’t it gorgeous, babe? I feel like we’ve landed in paradise.” Max moves beside me and puts an arm around me. I lean into him.
“This might be the best idea you’ve ever had, besides proposing to me.” I kiss him.
“That was definitely the best decision I’ve ever made. By far. There’s no place I’d rather be than in this gorgeous place with my gorgeous wife.”
I laugh. It’s not like Max to gush like this. “I’m already yours, you know. You don’t have to work so hard to get into my pants.”
“I think I proved that on the plane.”
“Is that something you’re going to bring up forever?”
“Unless we do something even wilder to surpass it.”
“Don’t set your expectations too high. I don’t want you to end up disappointed.”
“You could never disappoint me, Sasha.”
A porter leads us to our room and carries our bags inside. He’s pleased with his tip and tells us to ask for Malcolm if we need anything at all. I ignore the bags to step out onto the balcony. The incredible view of the blue bay stops me cold. I wonder if I can sleep out here, but the balcony is only large enough for two chairs and a little table, not lounges. Besides, the balconies on either side of us are very close. I hold onto the railing and suck in the sea air. Max presses in behind me and enfolds me in his arms. The embrace makes me warm and happy, and then his hands begin to wander.
“Can’t you behave for, like, five minutes?”
“I can’t help it. You’re so hot and I’m so horny after the plane.”
“First, I am not hot like this.” I feel my hair falling out of the messy bun on top of my head and I’m not wearing makeup. I’m also wearing my glasses, and while Max insists they give me a sexy librarian look, that’s not what I’m going for.
“Second, didn’t you just come a couple of hours ago? Aren’t you good for a while?” Max is pushing fifty and normally needs significant recovery time. The day after my first fashion show a couple of weeks ago was the first time we’ve gone more than once in a day in years.
“Doesn’t everyone get extra horny on vacation? I think hotel rooms just make people want to fuck.”
“I want to go to the beach.”
“There’s plenty of time for the beach, babe. You’ve been driving me crazy all day.”
Max cups my breasts through my tee and I purr. I can’t help responding to his touch. He isn’t the only one who’s been horny all day. I had that insane orgasm on the plane too, but he’s made sure to keep sex at the front of my mind ever since. I want to blame him anyway.
I laugh. “That’s your fault, not mine. You’re the one who wanted me dressed like this. The results aren’t my fault.”
“What are the results?” he asks, rolling my nipples and spreading heat through my body.
“Every guy has been staring at your tits and wants to fuck you, including this one.”
Max presses his erection into my back. That’s an obvious, big result all right. Feeling his desire for me makes the tingling at my core grow. More than a few of my girlfriends back home would kill to have their husbands all over them like this, but I doubt they’d be as open as I have to get it. They’d probably be freaked out by the way Max has been acting, but I know it’s just harmless sexy fun. I’m good with the mind games. I’m learning to like them too.
“Mmm, you’re really hung up on that, other men wanting me.”
“You knew that, babe.” He kisses my neck, ensuring I won’t push him away.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Other men want what you have. I heard you. But you’ve never been this into it. I’m almost convinced you want them to do more than look.”
Max groans and pinches both my tips at once, hard enough to spike pain, but it’s hot and my core tightens. I rub back against him like a cat in heat. I love this new, aggressive, dirtier version of my husband.
“They could all look if I fucked you on this balcony right now.”
“Mmm, we can’t Max…”
My grip tightens on the railing because it’s very easy to imagine and my heart races. I’m a suburban mom, not the kind of woman who has midday sex in full view on a balcony, but part of me wants to be her.
The hotel is a huge, white building that was a playground for the rich and famous back in the 1950s that’s been modernized. Our bay view balcony is on the third floor, high above a large, rectangular pool with a swim-up bar at one end. The railing tops thick glass walls on three sides. We are not hidden. Anyone who looks up will see us, especially if Max bends me over the railing. What would they think? Would they be jealous? I can’t let my mind go there.
“Maybe later tonight,” I suggest, twisting back to kiss him.
Max isn’t listening. He steers me away from the railing and sits me in one of the chairs. What’s he up to? He pulls up my tee and I raise my arms even though I’m whining that we shouldn’t do this. I still don’t know what this is, but I worry we’re still visible because of those glass walls at the edges of the balcony. Max has no worries. He yanks my leggings, pulling harder until I lift my butt from the chair, and he can roll them down my legs, knocking my ballet flats to the floor. He pulls my legs over his shoulders.
I grip the armrests and stare up at the sky when he kisses my pussy. His tongue darts deep to lap at my nectar and there’s so much of it for him to taste. I am so wet. Max spreads me open with his thumbs and dives deeper. I go from zero to sixty in seconds, my whole body throbbing. He was always so good at going down, but it’s another one of those things that fell away as our sex life became routine. Max hasn’t forgotten any of his skills. My body sings as he devours me.
“Ahhh god…oh fuck…” I cry when he homes in on my sizzling button. I want to be quiet, but I can’t. Trying to rein myself in on the plane was torture.
Max stares up from between my thighs, watching every contortion of my face while he licks me. His need to make me come is intense in his eyes, and it makes me want to climax for him as much as for me. I can’t explain how hot it is that he sees me this way. He sucks and flicks my clit and reaches up to knead my breasts. I see stars when he pulls my nipples. Oh my god!
“Ohhh…fuck…ahhh fuck…” I whine, rubbing my fruit against his sucking mouth.
I look down and don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed that no one is looking up at us from the pool. No one has come out on the balconies near us either. The dirtiest part of me thinks it would be so hot to be discovered and watched. If it would ever be safe, it would be at this resort. I might be willing to risk being thrown out just for the once-in-a-lifetime thrill.
The orgasm hits me so hard, so fast, that I’m startled and howl, jacking my hips completely off the chair. My thighs lock around Max’s head to keep my butt aloft. I yell and pant and just keep coming. Having a sweeping orgasm with the warmth of the Caribbean sun on me is heavenly. Forget the pool. I want him to stay down there all afternoon.
Max has other plans. He stands before me and drops his shorts. I grab him the moment it springs into view and stare up at him while I stroke it. I’d rather he takes me into the room and puts it where I really need it, but I won’t deny him a blowjob after what he just did for me. He smiles, caresses my cheek, and palms the back of my head to guide me forward. It’s cute that he thinks I need to be urged to put his cock in my mouth.
My lips spread over him, and he keeps me going, pressing to the back of my throat. I grab a deep breath, afraid he’s going to force it further, but Max is too kind for that. Maybe it would be good if he wasn’t. I like how he’s been more commanding and taking what he wants. I hold his base, but I’d let him do it. Max pulls my head back and forth on his cock and when his grip tightens on my head, I suck him harder.
“The way you came so hard was so sexy, babe. You like it out here on the balcony. We’re going to have to do more of that.”
I answer by rubbing my tongue on his shaft. I’d admit I liked it if my mouth wasn’t full.
Max works his fingers in my hair, and my loose bun finally falls apart. My thick, jet-black hair tumbles halfway down my back. He winds his fingers in it and makes me go faster, but he still stops short of truly fucking my mouth. Fuck my mouth, I think. My pussy is tingling again from the thought.
“Can’t wait to see how wild you get out here…mmm…gonna pick your dress tonight…mmm…gonna be so hot…everyone staring…ahhh…damn… …Sasha…”
I’d love to say it was my incredible oral skills — I’m pretty good when I put my mind to it — but Max was so excited he finished in record time. He pulled his cock out of my mouth, and I stroked it on instinct. Max proudly arched his back like he was showing off for anyone who might see us and his first string of cum blasted onto my face and across my glasses. I caught more on my face before pointing it down and taking the rest of the jizz on my chest. It happened so fast I didn’t think about it, but I like it. Did Max ever come on my face before? I think I’d remember that.
“Damn, that’s so hot, Sasha,” he coos. He rubs his thumb over my lips,” and I suck it.
I must be possessed because I don’t know why I do it — especially exposed out on the balcony — but I smile at my husband and rub his come into my tits. My red-painted nails flick over my nipples and I shiver. I massage that slick, warm juice into my skin like suntan lotion and it’s so wanton I’m ready to beg Max to fuck me. I wonder if I can suck him back to life again. What is wrong with me? I don’t think I was even this horny in my wild college days! Maybe Max has hypnotized me to turn me into the trampy wife he always wanted.
“You’re going to choose my outfit tonight?” I ask, laughing.
“I won the bet on the plane.” He’s smug.
“Was that really a bet? I was not of sound mind in that moment.”
“I won fair and square.”
I don’t know if there was anything fair about that, but I’d play his game and see where it went. “You’re on, buster. I want to see where this goes.”
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 4
Max slowly loses his mind as his wife Sasha gets more and more attention from other men…

Sasha was sleepy after we got each other off on the balcony, but still insisted that we at least go down to the pool. Rather than one of her flashy new bikinis with the gold hardware, she chose a simple navy-blue string one with tiny white polka dots. She looks incredible in it, but then she looks incredible in all of them. My only disappointment was when she threw a coverup over the swimsuit to walk through the hotel to the pool.
Disappointment is a strong word. The white fishnet coverup didn’t hide much and may have even been sexier because of the flashes of skin it revealed. She added stacked wedge heels and a wide-brimmed hat, and I proudly followed my wife, the resort goddess. I hung back enough that I could appreciate the heads she turned.
An attendant handed us towels and we were lucky enough to snag lounges right at the edge of the pool. Sasha sat on a chaise lounge, and I asked if she planned to leave the coverup on. She smiled knowingly. She was glorious when she pulled that thing over her head and stretched in the bright afternoon sunlight. Sasha plays coy, but she knows how to put on a show when she wants to. I’d already come twice, but I felt life twitching back into my cock while I watched her.
I’m in the pool now because I offered to get us drinks, hoping the cool water would dampen my hard-on before it became noticeable. The pool water is warm, but it still hides me below the waist and that’s enough. I wade over to the swim-up bar and deposit my rear on one of the submerged concrete stools. I stay half-turned to keep an eye on my wife while I wait to order.
Most of the couples at the resort are our age or older, with only a smattering younger than their mid-thirties. The men around Sasha are with their wives and manage to be discreet, but I still catch the glances she attracts when she slathers her body with sunscreen. Her bikini doesn’t cover much or offer much support. Her sweet tits jiggle nicely when she moves, almost like they’re completely unencumbered. The bottom isn’t like the one chain bikini she bought, which barely covers her lips, but it’s not going to fully cover her luscious ass no matter how much Sasha tugs at it. She’s not intentionally putting on a show anymore, but she’s sexy all the same.
The guests aren’t the only ones admiring my wife. I see the staff watching her as well. A massive Black man with braids down to his waist watches from the towel station. He’s behind Sasha and his eyes are all over her firm, but round, ass spilling out from that bikini while he folds towels. A younger, skinnier man up in a lifeguard chair admires her from the front. He has the perfect view of her slender body from his elevated perch. Sasha adjusts her tits in the bikini top, jiggling them and he smiles. He’s got a great job if he’s into White MILFs. I’m biased, but I think my wife is the hottest one around the pool.
Seeing the men watching Sasha keeps my erection growing and my balls tingling. The lifeguard in particular looks like he wants to drag her off to some quiet corner of the resort and give it to her. He probably thinks she needs it from a hung, young stud like him. I’ve probably watched too much porn where a huge Black dick is what every White housewife needs. The lifeguard probably isn’t any bigger than I am. But the fantasy is potent and for a moment I pretend Sasha is the kind of woman who’d do it. Damn, would I even really want that if she did?
“I can come back if you’re busy.”
The voice belongs to the bartender, a beautiful woman in her early twenties with a flawless mocha complexion and a crisp British accent. Tight, red-tinted curls flow past her shoulders.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. Must be a little jet lagged,” I lie. We’re still in our home time zone.
Trinika smiles knowingly. A name tag is pinned to the strap of her swimsuit. The bar is dry, obviously, but she wears a one-piece in the resort’s colors with white shorts and looks fantastic in it. Trinny has a slender body with big, round tits, which the swimsuit’s deep scoop neck shows off nicely.
“Do you like watching your wife?” she asks.
The question stabs right to the heart of me and I grasp for a reply. “What do you mean?”
“I see you watching her. She’s very pretty. You’re a lucky man…”
“Max. I’m Max, and she’s Sasha.”
“I’m Trinny. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Max. There is no shame in a man admiring his wife. More men should. You should be proud to have a beautiful wife like Sasha.”
“I am. I’m very proud of Sasha. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I know how lucky I am to have her.”
Trinny follows my eye line past my wife and nods, that knowing smile back.
“Many kinds of couples come through Sun King. Loving, traditional couples looking for a getaway to reconnect, couples looking to let their hair down and go a little crazy, couples who want to party and mingle, and of course, there are the couples looking for something else, something a little bit wilder. Perhaps you know what I mean, Mr. Max?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m sure you see all kinds of people here. It must be an interesting job.”
“Are you the jealous type, Mr. Max?”
“Not at all.”
“I didn’t think so. Would you like our specialty drink?”
“Why not? I’ll take two.”
Trinny turns to make two frozen, cream-colored drinks with a heavy hand on the rum. I can’t keep track of everything she adds, but it’s exactly what you’d expect from a Caribbean resort. I keep an eye on Sasha as she slathers more lotion all over her body and the men around watch her as closely as I do. They don’t all stare with their tongues hanging out, but I don’t need anything that obvious. Knowing men around Sasha appreciate her is enough. Trinny’s question nags at my brain while I watch. Why did she ask if I’m the jealous type?
“I think you’ll enjoy these. All the guests rave about them,” Trinny says, setting two large hurricane glasses on the bar with blue straws protruding from their tops.
“I’m sure we will. Why did you ask if I’m jealous? Not all men are possessive.”
“Of course not. I see that firsthand all the time. As I said, we have all kinds of couples looking for all kinds of adventures here. Open-minded couples find Sun King to be the perfect setting to explore fun they would not dare at home. I just want you to know that whatever you’re looking for is available here.”
“Whatever I’m looking for? Sasha and I are just looking for a few relaxing, fun days in the sun.”
“I apologize if I overstepped, Mr. Max. It’s just, well, it’s evident that the pride you feel for your beautiful Sasha extends to others appreciating her beauty as well. Many men enjoy their wives being admired. Couples enjoy their partners being admired and having fun. I thought perhaps you and Sasha may be one of those couples and wanted you to know you’re free to explore possibilities here, but I apologize again if I misunderstood.”
The clouds of my bafflement clear, and a ray of understanding pins me. My pulse races and my brow pops with sweat, despite sitting in the pool. I grip a frosty glass and suck so hard on the straw that I get brain freeze and cough. “Is this a swingers’ resort, Trinny?”
“Oh no, of course not, Mr. Max. We are an adults-only resort that caters to couples, but we are not a Lifestyle resort.”
I exhaled my relief. “I didn’t think so. There wasn’t anything about that on your website. I know places like that need to be discreet, but I thought there’d be some kind of clue.”
“No no no, we don’t specialize in Lifestyle experiences. Resorts like Hedonism II are very different from Sun King. We specialize in premium experiences for all sorts of couples from all around the world. We would never want to be branded as a Lifestyle resort.”
“That’s a relief. I don’t know what Sasha would think if she found out I brought her to a swingers’ resort.”
“You have nothing to fear, Mr. Max. No one here would ever pursue you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable.” Trinny pauses to choose her next words. “We expect our guests to be discreet. We are not a Lifestyle resort, but our guests are free to pursue whatever experiences they may find fulfilling. Do you understand my meaning?”
“This isn’t a swingers’ place, but guests hook up?”
Trinny smiles and it’s beautiful. She’s a stunning woman. If I was single — or looking to swing — she would be on my list, but despite some of my weirder fantasies about my wife I’ve never thought of being with another woman.
“Yes, Mr. Max. Likeminded individuals have a way of finding each other if they are willing to show the signs.”
“What are the signs?” I ask without thinking.
“Perhaps you are looking for adventure after all, Mr. Max.”
“I’m not, uh, looking to sleep with other women. I love my wife.”
“Just for Ms. Sasha then? Many men enjoy their wives’ pleasure. You’ll find necklaces and broaches in the gift shop with an upside-down pineapple. Some guests are brazen enough to affix such a symbol to their room door. Some hotwives wear an anklet to signal their availability, and some have charms on the anklet to symbolize a preference, like a spade. If the latter is your preference, some of the staff members here are more than happy to assist you, if you can be discreet, of course. Fraternizing with guests is strictly forbidden by policy.”
“I don’t have that preference. I mean, I — we — don’t have any preferences like that. We’re just a normal couple on vacation,” I stammer.
Trinny looks skeptical. I want to ask her what a hotwife is, but I’ve already shown too much curiosity. The pretty bartender thinks Sasha and I are swingers looking for a good time. Is the female half of a swinging couple called a hotwife?
“Of course, Mr. Max. I don’t think otherwise.”
“I’d better get these drinks over to Sasha. It’s hot out here.”
“Yes, you’re sweating. Please, go relax and enjoy yourself.”
I reach into my pocket for my billfold. Sun King is an all-inclusive resort, but I know to tip. Trinny waives it away.
“We are not permitted to accept gratuities, Mr. Max.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.” The porter was happy to take a tip in our room.
Trinny leans close enough that I catch her sweet scent and places her hand over mine. “We can be watched here. Perhaps if we encounter each other in a more private area, you can show me your appreciation, sir.”
I swear that sounds like a come on and I’m even more jittery as I carry our drinks back to Sasha. My brain is swirling. I hold the drinks high to keep them out of the water and emerge dripping from the pool. My erection has flagged, but my balls are aching. Sasha’s already drained them twice today, but I need it again. Trinny filled my head with crazy ideas.
“I was beginning to think you were abducted and I was going to have to use my set of very special skills to get you back,” Sasha says, laughing. She’s excited to take her drink. “This is delicious!”
“What special skills would those be?” I take the lounge beside her. Sasha already spread a towel for me.
Sasha looks down at her body in the bikini like it’s obvious. “I don’t think my physical therapy skills are going to come in handy unless I can stretch the bad guys to death, and I don’t think my copious laundry experience will help. I’m going to have to use what I have.”
“You’re going to seduce someone into rescuing me?”
“Are you implying I couldn’t?”
“Never. In fact, I’d love to see it. They’d love it if you showed up at the local police precinct in that bikini, but maybe lose the hat.”
“I think I’m insulted if you think my hat will distract them from the rest of me.”
I laugh. “I doubt they’d even notice you’re wearing a hat, Sasha.”
I’m momentarily distracted by a vision of Sasha showing up at the police station in nothing but that bikini and her wedge-heeled sandals, and a bunch of burly, sweaty men hungrily eyeing her up. I bet the captain would throw her over his shoulder and carry Sasha back to a cell where they’d cuff her and take turns using her all night. What the fuck is wrong with me? I blame Trinny for putting crazy ideas in my head. Yeah, I’ve had fantasies of Sasha doing stuff, but nothing like that.
“I wasn’t thinking cops, anyway,” she continues. “I need to find a rugged mercenary type who’ll interrupt his tropical vacation with the right incentive. He’ll be tough, but sensitive and fall for me even though he knows he shouldn’t.”
“How could he not? You’d just better not fall for him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And what will this magical incentive be?”
Sasha takes a long pull on her slushy drink and leans over, suggestively placing her hand high on my thigh, high enough to brush where I lay there and feel me twitch. She pushes her hat back so she can get in close enough that her lips brush my ear when she whispers to me.
“I made you come pretty quickly with my mouth upstairs. That would be a good place to start.”
I groan and feel my dick surging back. I close my eyes and see Sasha on her knees with her tits pulled out of her bikini top. A big, muscular, stubbled stud is using her mouth. Unlike me, he’s really using it. Her silky black hair is wrapped around his fist, and he uses it to throat fuck her mouth. I have to shake it out of my head or I’m going to make a mess in my bathing suit.
“You’ve got a talented mouth, babe. But you might need more than that to get some alpha to go chasing through the jungle,” I rasp. I need a sip of my drink. I don’t care about brain freeze.
“Mmm, he can have me any way he wants me if he does what I need.” Her fingers brush me through my swimming trunks and the contact is not accidental.
“Is saving me what you need?”
“I don’t know. Once I see what he has, my needs might change.”
“I already know what you need, Sasha.”
“Mmm, what’s that?”
“You need a big, hard cock to make you beg and scream.”
I can’t believe those words slip out of my mouth. I feel like I just told my wife I want another man to fuck her. I didn’t mean that, did I?
“Now you’re talking, honey.” She grips me, right there by the pool.
This is not the suburban wife I left with this morning. My plan to open her up is working too well. I’ve never been more excited. I consider that I might not have to push Sasha hard at all to leave her comfort zone. Maybe I could even get her an upside-down pineapple pendant…
“It’s a good thing I have you right here, so I don’t have to go find someone else.”
Sasha kisses my cheek and leans back in her chaise, broadly grinning. This is all payback for earlier. She’s proving she can tease just as well as I can. I should be angry, but I’m proud. I’m speechless because I realize part of me wishes she wasn’t teasing. If I wasn’t here, she’d have to go find someone else. Oh fuck.
“Are you okay, honey? You look distracted. Did I make it too hard for you?”
A real man would throw Sasha over his knee for that cockiness. She could find one. No, I am a real man — just a real weird one. I can throw her over my knee. Can I tell her why I’m distracted? How would Sasha react if I told her the bartender thought we might be swingers? I expect she’d turn fifty shades of red, but maybe not. She might just be tickled by the thought of it.
“Never. But you’re going to pay for teasing me later. We’re going to have a fun night.”
“I don’t see how it’s punishment if I’m enjoying myself.”
“I like your attitude.”
“This is already shaping up to be our best vacation ever.”
I agree with Sasha, and we fall into a companionable silence, people-watching and enjoying the weather. We arrived at the pool later in the afternoon and people drift back to their rooms as we sit there. The better restaurants at the resort require reservations and I made one when we checked in, but ours isn’t until later.
Sasha digs out her Kindle and reads while I connect to the resort Wi-Fi and search what a hotwife is. The first thing I learn is that it’s both used as hotwife and hot wife. The first articles I click on are somewhat clinical. A hotwife is a woman allowed or encouraged by her husband to hook up with other men — and he doesn’t sleep with other women. Swinging I understand, but that’s harder to grasp. The words sexual freedom are thrown around a lot, as is the word cuckold. I know what cuckold porn is and that’s never been my thing.
I have to scroll down to find the real nitty gritty. The mainstream articles are kind of boring and don’t dive deeply into the kink aspect of it. These guys aren’t just giving out this sexual freedom for the hell of it. They get off on it. They like their wives fucking other men. Hotwife is a sexual kink for these guys like anyone else. I keep thinking these guys because I don’t know if I’d put myself in that category. I like it when men look at Sasha and I’ve had these strange little thoughts about her doing things, but that’s all it’s ever been — fantasy.
Sasha looks incredible beside me when I glance over. Her slender body is still pale — it’s mid-winter back home — but she looks sexy with a shiny sheen of sweat and sunscreen. She shifts on the chaise and rubs her legs together while she reads and hums to herself and I want to spread those legs wide open. She’s incredible in that string bikini.
I look around to see if anyone else is still watching her. Who else wants to spread her legs? The lifeguard has changed and it’s a young woman now. She shows no interest, but it would be hot if she did. I don’t know why I think more about Sasha and men than I do about bringing in another woman. Isn’t that what most men think about? A guy walks by and scopes out Sasha, but he’s older and heavy. I can’t imagine him spreading her legs.
All this stuff needs to get out of my head. I want guys to want to fuck my wife, but I don’t want them to actually do it. I like pretending Sasha might be so horny she’d sexually surrender, but I know she never would — despite all the fun teasing. And if all the playing is going to make me this crazy, maybe I need to stop.
“Hey,” she says, jumping up. Her tits have a great bounce. “Come in the pool with me.”
Sasha runs ahead and jumps in without waiting for me. I watch her swimming and think about some hot guy gliding up and flirting with her. It’s just harmless fun, I convince myself. I just need to put Trinny’s suggestions out of my head and enjoy a sexy weekend with my wife. I set down my phone and chase after Sasha.
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 5
A remote-controlled vibrator leaves Sasha trembling in the middle of a restaurant, unsure whether to curse at Max or beg for more…

I’m surprised when Max doesn’t choose the dress I modeled for him that first night that revved up our sex life. I thought he couldn’t wait to show me off in it. Instead, he places the outfits I packed on the huge king-sized bed and walks around thinking about it. Except for a flowy maxi dress I threw in my bag, all the outfits are far more revealing than anything I’d wear at home. I fully embraced the idea of cutting loose on our vacation.
Max settles on the tiny, satiny black dress with the bold sunflower print. It’s backless, low-cut, and the halter straps tie behind my neck. I bought it in a second round of shopping because it is firmly in the category of dresses I never thought I’d wear in public. I don’t mind the backless part, and I’m perky enough that the low-cut part is fine, but it barely comes around the sides. I’ve never flashed sideboob in public before and never thought I would.
“This will be perfect,” he announces.
“For you. I can’t wear a bra with that.”
“You can’t with most of these outfits.” He laughs.
“I don’t know why I even packed them.”
“Me neither. You won’t be wearing any this weekend.”
“Says you, which is too bad. I packed some fun lingerie.”
“I’d still love to see it. You might not even be able to wear panties with this,” he says, holding up the dress.
I laugh this time. I could never imagine wearing something that short and loose without panties — not that I ever go without underwear anyway. “The back doesn’t go that low, but nice try.”
“Good. You’ll need panties tonight.”
“What does that mean?”
Max just smiles and walks away. I’m wary of what he has in mind, but strangely excited. This new version of my husband is fun. I retreat to the shower to finally get clean and leave him to his machinations.
I love the way the dress flows over me, even if it leaves me wishing I had my pre-kid body with that much skin showing. It’s funny, but I was less self-conscious in that bikini. I’m in very good shape, but I’m not a trainer-toned actress and I won’t be airbrushed when I go out in the dress. My boobs are nice for forty-six but could be perkier in the dress. I have the remnant of the mom pooch I’ve never been able to eliminate. Can’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. My nipples are obvious points once again, but the pattern camouflages them some.
My hair is down, the way Max likes it, but I rake it straight back instead of teasing it out. I had it trimmed just before we left, and my stylist did an excellent job of giving me a perfectly straight edge a few inches past my shoulders. I’m one of the rare moms in my group who’s kept her hair so long, but my husband likes it and I know it looks good, so I don’t sacrifice it for convenience. I go for a cat’s eye look and paint my lips the same seductive red as my fingernails and toes. The look is dramatic and gives me the confidence to believe I can pull off this dress.
“Damn, Sasha, you look like sex on a stick,” Max says when I emerge from the bathroom. It’s the reaction I was looking for.
“Oh, this old thing? I had it out for the little league meeting the other night, so I thought I’d just wear it again.”
“I’d pay anything to see you wear that to a little league board meeting.” Max has a strange look when he says it.
“That would be great, except there isn’t enough money in the world to make that happen.”
“Never say never.”
“That is one thing I can definitively say will never happen.”
“In any case, I have a present for you. Slip your panties down, please.”
“Calling your dick a present is new.”
“You wish. Come on, you have to wear what I say tonight, remember?”
“Are you giving me different panties? I won’t go without them in this dress.”
Max waits and after a moment’s hesitation, I roll my scant black t-back panties down my thighs. It would be very unlike him to buy me panties. He kneels by the nightstand and returns with a hot pink C-shaped object that’s fat on one end and has three buttons on the tail side.
“What is that thing and what do you plan to do with it?”
“This is your present, and you’re going to slip it up inside you before we go out.”
“I am not. Have you lost your mind?”
I’m not opposed to sex toys in general. I have one at home that I quite like and use when I need a quick release in a private moment. Max is asking for something very different.
“You’re supposed to wear what I tell you, Sasha.”
“I was talking about outfits, and you know it. I never agreed to wear a sex toy in public!”
Max glides up to me and I try to step back, but my lowered panties bind me at the thighs. He goes in for a kiss and I give him a skeptical eye, but the kiss feels good, and I surrender to it. I feel like I’m surrendering to a lot of things lately. He teases me with his tongue and slides his hand up under my dress while I’m distracted. Fingers glide over my perfectly smooth sex — it still feels weird to be so smooth down there — and part my lips. Max finds me wet for him. I swear I’ve been wet all day. His fingers slip inside me, and I gasp. My hips move when he works those fingers. I need to stop being so easy.
“You’re ready for it, Sasha. I feel it.”
“Mmm…you can’t seriously expect me to do this.”
“We’re being daring, right? This is pretty daring.”
“I feel like I’m the one who’s being daring and you’re just enjoying the show.”
“We’re a team, babe. We’re in this together. I’m right there with you.”
“God…you are such a terrible influence. Where did all this come from?”
“I just want you to be as sexy as you can be, babe.”
Max takes his fingers and presses the toy to me. It’s not large, but he has me soaked and it slips right inside me. The long tail flops up toward my waist. I’m surprised it’s not vibrating.
“Why isn’t it moving?”
“You want that, don’t you?” Max chuckles.
I’ll admit nothing. “It’s a vibrator, isn’t it? Are you going to turn it on or just leave it inside me?”
We kiss hard and I wait for him to turn it on, but he doesn’t. The hot pink toy just stays nestled inside me. This is a weird tease.
“That’s the fun part, babe,” he says, tugging my panties back into place. “I can control it with my phone.”
“Get out of here!”
“This will be great.”
“I cannot do that, Max. There will be people all around.”
“There were people around on the plane.”
“And that was stupid too. Please, I’ll do whatever else you want.”
“That’s a dangerous promise here, in this place.”
“How wild do you plan to get here? We have to behave in the public spaces. We can’t just do it by the poolside.”
Max gets that weird look again. “If you hate it, I’ll stop, but I think you’ll love it.”
“Promise?” Am I actually considering doing this?
“I promise, babe. You trust me, don’t you?”
I do. I trust my husband more than anyone else in the world, even if he has gone off the deep end since we left our house. I try to stare him down, but he wants this, and I want to make him happy. I also want to prove I’m just as daring as he is, and truthfully, the idea of this is exciting.
“For the record, this is crazy. It’s a terrible idea.”
“But you’ll do it?”
“I’ll try it.”
“You’re the best, babe.”
“Don’t ever forget it,” I tell him, smoothing my panties back into place over the toy.
The toy stays off while we walk down to the restaurant, but my whole body tingles with anticipation just having it inside me while we’re out of our room. Max looks smart in a tropical print shirt and pale khakis, and I want to jump his bones. I feel like the people we pass in the lobby know what’s inside me, which is silly.
Max made a reservation at the resort’s traditional Jamaican restaurant, but we still have a wait when we arrive at the hostess stand. She welcomes us to wait at the bar.
I turn to ask if he wants to do that, but he’s checking his texts or something when it finally hits me. Max grins at my gasp and startled expression. The toy is a low, steady rumble in my core that spreads warm tingles throughout my body. My gasp wasn’t from an instant orgasm, but because one just doesn’t expect a sudden buzzing in their pussy while standing at a restaurant hostess stand — even when one is wearing a sex toy.
“Let’s go get that drink, babe,” Max says, cockily grinning.
“I, uh…” I have trouble speaking and I’m unsteady on my feet. I don’t know if I should be walking.
Max swipes his phone and I realize that’s how he’s controlling the thing inside me. The vibes drop so low I hardly feel them, and I exhale. I think it’s safe to walk now. I grip his hand tightly just in case he wants to play games.
We only find one open seat at the bar. Max pulls out the chair for me and I hop up onto it, smoothing my skirt over my lap to keep from flashing the people around us. Would anyone recognize the slight lump in my panties as a sex toy? I know some people get wild on their vacations, but I guarantee I’m the only one wearing a vibrator at the bar — probably in the entire resort. I turn to face the bar and my husband stands behind me, sweetly caressing my back.
“Could you order me a bourbon neat when the bartender comes over?” he asks.
“Sure.” I smile, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging what he’s doing to me.
The bartender is a moderately handsome Englishman with a shaved head and a heavy cockney accent. I’m not sure I’d understand him if I wasn’t such a huge fan of British TV shows. I order an extra dirty martini for myself and I’m about to ask for Max’s drink when he dials up the vibes again, passing the level I felt at the hostess stand. I just about swallow my moan, but I grip the edge of the bar so hard that I nearly break several nails.
“Did you want something else?” the bartender asks, staring at me. He must think I’m having a stroke.
“Yes, a, ah, bourbon, please.” I have a tremble in my voice but get the words out.
“Do you have a preference?”
Fuck, don’t make me keep talking. I hope this is as high as the toy goes because I feel the vibes up to my ribcage and my core is throbbing. I instinctively tighten around the toy it but is so much more intense when I do, and I force my muscles to relax.
“Woodford will do,” Max helpfully answers.
“Very good,” the bartender replies, still eyeing me funny. I’m relieved when he turns to make our drinks.
“You’re a bastard,” I mutter under my breath without turning around. I don’t want the man or woman to my sides to overhear. I hope they are too engaged with their partners to notice me.
Max leans close and I feel him inhale my scent. It must be my perfume and shampoo he catches, not my arousal. “Doesn’t it feel good, babe?” He decreases the vibes for a moment, only to spike them again. I clench, which makes the sensation intense, and hold my breath to keep from moaning at the bar.
“That’s not the point and you…ahh…know it.”
“The point is to have fun.”
He tickles the nape of my neck under my hair, and it gives me goosebumps like it always does. It drives me crazy when combined with the buzzing down below and I want to drag Max back to our room and ride him until I pass out, so I can’t be that mad. It’s hard to admit, but this is fun on some dark level. Being forced to maintain a placid exterior is exhilarating. Trying to control myself makes the building need inside me growl like a beast straining at its leash. But I know I’ll die if I let that beast loose and loudly come at the bar.
“Watching me…mmm like this…is fun…for…you…”
“You have no idea. Damn, you’re sexy, Mrs. Wagner. I love how flushed your cheeks are. I can see how much you love this and knowing someone else might notice is the hottest thing ever.”
“You’re a mean bastard, Mr. Wagner.”
God, does anyone know? Can they tell just by looking at me? I can’t bear to look around and find out, but I know how this hits at the heart of my husband’s growing kink. I’m beginning to realize he’s probably always wanted to show me off like this in public but never felt this freedom at home. I adore being his dirty fantasy and I’m learning to enjoy being put on display too, but I wonder where it will end — or I would if I weren’t so distracted.
Our drinks arrive and the bartender notes my controlled breathing with a smile. He can’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m clearly a woman on the edge. I’m probably just another horny, middle-aged woman on vacation to him. Max dials back the vibes to allow me some dignity.
I down my dirty martini in two gulps. The cocktail is strong, and it burns my throat and goes straight to my head. Max attacks again. The toy’s intensity fluctuates in a wave pattern, sliding so high that I clench my thighs together and my jaw tight, and so low that the dirtiest part of me craves the vibes’ return. My husband hits a stride, taking me up and down until I’m right at the edge of coming in front of everyone before backing down.
I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on control. I barely keep my panting in check. I can’t stop my orgasm, but I can do my damnedest to keep from screaming. Max doesn’t let me come, and that makes me want to scream — in frustration. He does it to me two more times and I’m so soaked I’m afraid I’m going to leave a wet spot on the bar stool.
We’re called for our table, and he mercifully stops the vibes. I’m still shaky when I try to stand. Max’s arm around my waist steadies me and I want to punch him, but when he kisses me, I grab his head and shove my tongue into his mouth. I palm the front of his pants too and feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this, which just makes me want him more. I was taught to be a polite girl, which makes me a natural people pleaser, but this is insane.
The horniness is like a hornet nest buzzing inside me, but outwardly I’m normal by the time we reach our table. Max pulls out my chair. It’s the least he can do. I hoped for something secluded, but we’re right in the middle of everyone. I’m all for fun and games, but I will stab him with a steak knife if he makes me come surrounded by people in the middle of dinner.
“This is a perfect spot,” he smugly says.
“You’ll behave yourself if you want to stay married.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sasha.”
“Give me your phone.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that. I’m expecting an important message.”
“This thing sends messages back to you?”
“Ha! I wish. It would be awesome if it told me how wet your pussy is.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss.
Our waiter appears at that moment, and I pray he didn’t hear Max. He pours our water from a freshly-opened bottle and asks if we need a minute like every waiter does when you’ve just sat down.
“Show me the app,” I demand the moment we’re alone.
Max turns his phone to face me. The screen says Remote Control at the top and is split between a graph and a simulated touchpad. A pink dot floats toward the bottom. I can’t help myself and touch it. The dot slides up so easily and I feel the effects immediately. I don’t jump or gasp because I’m acclimating to the vibes, but a deep throb moves through me. I bounce the dot and feel the toy adjust. That thing is so good, it’s evil. The devil on my shoulder tells me to crank it up, but I will not do that to myself. I knock the dot back down and sigh. Max pulls back his phone.
“My pussy is soaked,” I inform him, smiling. I hope the knowledge makes me crazy.
“I can’t wait to feel it.”
The waiter is back, and we hastily peruse our menus. Max rudely orders first, but the reason why is obvious. Max chooses a Caribbean crab cake appetizer to share and the tenderloin. He also orders us both a fresh round of drinks. He picks up his phone when he hands over his menu.
I start to order the lionfish filet, but Max dials up the vibes, spiking them high right off the bat. I’m expecting it and keep my reaction to a tiny yelp and flushed cheeks. He fluctuates the vibes while I finish ordering. I keep my voice level, but my thighs clench and my butt wiggles in the chair while I breathe oddly deeply.
My core all the way up through my chest is quaking. I grip the menu so tightly that it bends in my hands. The waiter notices my diamond-hard nipples and keeps staring at them over his notepad. I’m flattered because he must see that all the time, but still wants to stare at me. I’ve noticed a lot of the other women at the resort are walking around braless in their cute little outfits. Are any of them also being tortured by their husbands? I finally let a low moan slip free when the waiter is far enough away. I don’t dare look at the nearby tables because I don’t want to know if anyone else heard me.
“Do you think he heard?” Max asks, tapping his phone. The vibes stay high, but stutter in and out, driving me to distraction.
“He was…clear…ahhh…”
“I meant the toy.”
I hold my breath and realize I can hear the thing buzzing away inside me. Oh my god! I can’t help checking to see if anyone else hears, but no one is staring. I squeeze my thighs even tighter, but it doesn’t help. I only feel the toy more intensely. The buzzing isn’t so bad. It’s like a phone on vibrate that won’t stop ringing.
“If you…mmmake me come here…I ssswear you will not get llllaid…the rest of this vacation-ahhh…”
It’s an idle threat. I need to get laid. The toy has me crawling out of my skin with need. I could always deny Max and find someone else. That would teach him a lesson. I breathe heavier and feel the wave of pleasure inside beginning to crest. I close my eyes and fight it, but I can’t. Max can make me come right there in the restaurant. I hate my lack of control, but it feels sooo good. God, I need to come so badly — just not in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
“Okay, I’ll give you a break.”
The vibes abruptly cease. I sob with disappointment because as much as I don’t want to orgasm here, I really need it. I keep throbbing like the toy is still working inside me. I glare at my husband while I struggle to control my breathing.
“You are such a bastard,” I pant.
“Or am I brilliant?”
“You’re a bastard.” I allow a smile. I’m angry, but I still feel so good. The weird mix of emotions is a heady feeling.
“Here come our drinks. You look like you really need yours, Mrs. Wagner.”
“Fuck you, Mr. Wagner.” I stick my tongue out at him.
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 6
Sasha’s been edged all night with a remote-control sex toy and can take it any longer. She drags Max to beach and doesn’t care who watches…

Dinner is terrific, but I’m so distracted by my horny wife that I hardly notice. They could have slapped fast food down in front of me and I would have eaten it. The roasted pumpkin salad that accompanies my tenderloin is interesting, but not to my taste. The crab cakes more than make up for that. I alternate between bourbon and water while I eat. I suspect we’re going to have a long, fun night and I don’t want to be too drunk to enjoy it.
Sasha doesn’t seem distracted at all and wolfs down her dinner like all the teasing has her famished. Or is it the orgasms I’ve given her today? She’s come twice already, but we haven’t fucked, and she wants that. She smolders with it. Sasha’s become insatiable and it’s awesome. Getting drunk doesn’t seem to be a concern for her either because she’s on her third dirty martini by the end of dinner.
Dessert is chocolate fondue for two. I sample so I’m not stuffed for later, but Sasha savors every bite, dipping a biscotti into the warm chocolate and licking the rich brown liquid off it like a porn star. She closes her lips around it to take a crisp bite and the sight is almost enough to make me blow a load in my pants. Having an insatiable wife has helped me rediscover my own vigor.
Sasha is loose and clingy when we leave the restaurant. She isn’t falling down drunk but gliding on a happy cloud. I’ve always loved it when she gets like this. My wife is never a wallflower, but she’s a giggly, flirty handful when she’s had the right amount to drink. She always denies it the next morning, but a drunk Sasha wants to party. Tonight, however, she wants a private party.
“Take me back to our room and fuck me,” she demands, pushing me against a white-washed wall and plastering her body to mine for a deep kiss. She rubs me through my pants to make her point.
“I thought it would be fun to go to the nightclub. We don’t need to rush to our room.”
“I need to rush to our room unless you want to fuck me on the beach.”
I bet we could. Couples must do that here, and maybe not even just couples based on Trinny’s hints. Her suggestion that we could find any kind of fun we seek is still in my head, despite my best efforts to exorcise it. I’ve been on alert for men checking out my wife, and I’ve caught some nice glances her way. I hoped she’d draw more attention when I played with her at dinner, but Sasha did an admirable job holding it together. Any time a man looks at her now, all I can think about are wild possibilities that never would have entered my mind before.
“Let’s just check out the club, and if it’s lame, we can go anywhere else you like.”
“You just want to show me off in this dress.”
“Can’t blame me, you look incredible, babe. Especially with that flush to your cheeks.”
“I’m going to figure out a way to pay you back for this.” Sasha grips me hard through my pants and I grunt.
“I look forward to it.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Wagner.”
Sasha twirls away from me — slightly unstable — and her dress flies up to flash her panties. Damn, I wish we weren’t alone in the wide hallway. Her hair is like a cloud around her beautiful face, and she looks like a dream. A wet dream.
The nightclub is dimly lit in violet hues and thrums with a loud, steady beat. We’re so far past our club days that I’m sure it’s going to give me a headache, but Sasha is right. I still want to show her off and keep teasing her. I’ll deal with it. The beat is more laid back and sensual than I’d expect from a club. She starts moving to it the moment we cross the threshold.
A long, narrow dance floor opens before us and bench seating runs along the walls, separated from the dance floor by tables. The club is surprisingly small, but their demographic probably isn’t looking for loud nightclubs. There are three other nightlife spaces, one with live music, another on the rooftop, and a third that’s more of a mellow experience.
The dance floor is sparsely populated by people our age and a little younger. They aren’t all couples. Some women seductively dance together the way some women do when they drink and want to tease them men around them. I’d love to see Sasha get out there and do that. I see obvious couples, but also twosomes that do not seem like an obvious match, like they’ve just paired up. Like-minded individuals have a way of finding each other if they are willing to show the signs, Trinny told me. The club is too dim to see if any of the people are wearing upside-down pineapples.
Sasha tugs my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. She loves to dance, but it’s never been my thing. I have less than no rhythm. My MO is to stand there and let her move around me, which is still fun, but I feel like I’m letting her down. Sasha knows how to move that body and she deserves a partner who can keep up on the dance floor. She gyrates and rubs against me for a minute because she wants to tease, but then we keep moving into the nightclub. Now that we’re here and she’s feeling the rhythm, Sasha’s not in such a hurry to get back to our room.
“I’ll get us drinks, you find us somewhere to sit,” she says, moving off toward the bar.
Finding a spot on the wall is easy. The benches are lushly padded and interspersed with pillows. They feel like a place an ancient Roman might recline. I chose a position where I can watch Sasha go to the bar. She’s still sensually moving with the music and it’s sexy. She wedges herself in next to a tall man, who turns and smiles at her.
My cock perks up thinking this guy might be one of those open types Trinny was talking about. Sasha laughs at whatever he says and touches his arm, a sign she’s in full flirty mode. I enjoyed watching her at the airport bar, but this feels different — like something could happen — and I can’t keep blaming the poolside bartender for that. I came here hoping to spice up our love life, but I’m beginning to think maybe I wanted something I wasn’t even aware of.
The resort feels full of possibilities — dangerous possibilities. If I do have this latent desire to see my wife do something with another man, Sun King is a place it could happen and be consequence free — if that sort of thing can happen without consequences. Those are big ifs. I don’t know if I want Sasha to actually do anything. I’m weirdly enjoying thinking about it, though. Even if I did allow that I want her to do more than flirt, I don’t know what that is. I doubt I could handle watching Sasha fuck another man.
All possibilities feel very real while I watch her at the bar. The guy is returning her touches, his hand on her bare back when he leans in to say something. The music isn’t that loud that he must be so close. Sasha holds his arm, but not to push it away. She doesn’t seem to mind his familiarity. Where is his wife? Jealousy buzzes around my brain like an annoying gnat but doesn’t dampen my granite hard-on. And then I remember what I have in my pocket. Time to have some fun.
Sasha starts when I dial up the vibrator. I keep it low because I don’t want her shouting at the bar — not yet. She stays stiff for a moment, and I wonder how hard she’s fighting to minimize her reaction. I turn up the intensity to make her resistance more difficult. She can flirt at the bar, but I’m not going to make it easier for her. I don’t understand my urge to punish her for flirting with another man when I enjoy it so much.
I work my finger in a wave motion, bringing her up and down like I’m fucking her with the vibrator. The motion almost made her come in the restaurant. Sasha is stiff, except for a slight motion in her hips. Her new friend must know something is happening to her. Sasha’s poker face isn’t that good. I should make her come in front of him, so he knows just how fun she is. He says something to her. She curtly nods before shaking her head harder. I see her grip tighten on his arm. I’m so damned tempted to make her come, but I think she might actually kill me if I do.
The bartender delivers drinks and Sasha tells her friend goodbye. I keep the vibrator going. I’m pleased to see him watching her ass while she carries two colorful drinks in hurricane glasses to me. Sasha bends down to place them on the table in front of us and her tits nearly tumble out of her tiny dress. I fucking love her in this dress, just like every other man who’s seen her in it tonight. She sits and practically climbs into my lap when she grabs me by the shirt and kisses me.
“You’re…a…bastard…” she pants between kisses.
“So you keep telling me. Stop complaining,” I tease, grabbing her ass. No one here will care if I openly paw my wife in public. “You love this, babe.”
“Yessss…”
The admission catches me off guard. I know how much she’s been enjoying this all night, but she’s refused to give me the satisfaction of admitting it. She must be too turned on to keep fighting it.
“Could that guy tell you’re on the verge of coming?”
“Nigel…he knew something was…going on…”
“Nigel wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He saw you all horny and wet and wanted it.”
Sasha stops kissing me and lays her head on my shoulder. She’s turned toward me like when I played with her on the plane, with her legs tucked up onto the bench. I dropped my phone on the table with the app running when she grabbed me. I look at it and see I nudged the vibrations toward the top. I’ve never been more impressed by my wife with how she’s keeping it together.
“Yeah…asked if I wanted to go down to the…­ahhh…beach…but he’s married too…”
I must feel what the vibrator is doing to her. The dress barely covers her. Her thighs shift apart for my hand, and I find she’s soaked. Her panties squish when I touch them. I feel the vibrator buzzing inside her. Damn, she’s never been like this, even when I made her come on the plane. Sasha is in the palm of my hand. I bet she’d do anything to come right now.
“You wanted to go with him, didn’t you?” I accuse. I don’t know why those words come out of my mouth.
“Ahhh…I…”
Sasha doesn’t give a real answer. I’m equally relieved and disappointed. Damn, do I really want her to say yes?
“You want to come, don’t you babe?”
“Ohhh fuck yes…”
I grab my phone and dance the dot at the top of its screen. The app comes with all kinds of preset programs guaranteed to make her come like fireworks, but I like to be in control. It would feel impersonal to just set the thing on automatic and let her rip. Sasha shakes and whines, which is her way of fighting being too loud. But she’s there. I feel it.
“Ahhh…ahhh…ahhh fuck…oh god…fuck…yesss…”
Sasha doesn’t shout when she comes, but she’d loud enough to attract the attention of the couple to my right. She’s facing them and they see the way she’s twisting and shaking, and my hand up her dress. They’re an older Mediterranean-looking couple, maybe in their early sixties. The husband looks disgusted by our display, but his wife is delighted. She smiles and licks her lips like she wishes she was in Sasha’s place. Her husband doesn’t look like the type who’d make her come in public.
I look around the dimly-lit nightclub, but no one else appears to notice my wife in the throes of orgasm. They’re all doing their own thing. A couple makes out on the dance floor, as do others on the benches opposite us. No one goes as far as we do. I can see how anything could happen in such a chill environment.
“Enough…enough…please…stop…”
The blood pounds so hard in my ears that her pleas don’t register at first because I’m so into how sexy my wife is. Teasing her all night has been teasing me too. My balls need to be drained and ache, my mouth is dry, and my brain is filled with dirty, confusing thoughts. But when I finally hear Sasha, I switch off the vibrator and she sags against me, drained.
“Oh fuck…you bastard…” she sighs, giggling. “What are you doing to me?”
“Making you happy, babe. I love seeing you come out of your shell, and you seem to love it just as much.”
“I admit nothing.” She laughs. Her face is still buried in my shoulder. “You did this to me. I’m innocent. I can’t believe that just happened in front of everyone.”
“You didn’t make that much of a scene.”
“Disappointed?”
“Never. That was perfect, Mrs. Wagner.”
“Will you take me back to our room and fuck me now?”
“Didn’t you just come?” I laugh.
“I need your cock, Mr. Wagner. That was great, but I need to fuck.”
I’d love to keep Sasha at the bar and leave her alone to see who else might come onto her — and what she’d do when she’s this horny, but I need to fuck too. “Okay, babe, but I’m keeping the vibrator on while we walk back.”
Sasha rubs against me. “Okay, but you might have to carry me.”
We do not make it back to the room. I don’t know if it’s that we’re far away from home, or if the tropical setting just has us acting out, but we divert to take a walk on the beach rather than going through the building and up to our room. I keep the vibrator on a low hum inside Sasha and she’s bouncing with erotic energy, taking me by the hand toward the beach.
The bay is dark at night without the light pollution we’re used to at the Jersey Shore back home. The resort’s private island is lit, and faint noises come across the water. I’ll have to check if they have a nighttime party over there. We are brightly lit from behind. The narrow beach is just below the large rear patio. It’s not exactly a private spot.
“Over here,” Sasha loudly whispers, dragging me toward the far side of the beach.
A whitewashed, wood shed sits near a retaining wall below the pool with the swim-up bar. I think it’s where they coordinate their watersports activities. The beach lounges are stacked in rows beside the shed. Sasha pulls me behind the stacks of lounges.
“I want you to fuck me right now,” she says, pulling me down to kiss her. She’s already fumbling with my pants.
“Right here? Are you sure?”
“Didn’t you want to do it someplace risky?”
“Yeah, babe. It’s just, you were against the idea before.”
“I’m telling you to do me now. Or do I need to find someone else who wants to fuck me on the beach?”
Sasha is giggling the whole time. She’s drunk and horny, which has always been one of my favorite states for her. There’s that threat to find someone else to screw her again. Does she think I really want that? Does she want it? I would have said no for sure yesterday in our comfortable suburban home, but now I question it. And why can’t I reject the idea out of hand? Is there a secret, slutty side to my wife that I never knew about? She’s right that I’m crazy for hesitating, but I’m only pausing because I’m so surprised Sasha is acting like this.
“Would it be your friend from the nightclub?” I ask. Why am I playing with this?
“He was okay, but I saw hotter guys on the dance floor. I bet I could get one of them. Especially in this dress.” She strikes a pose, shoving her tits at me. I’m convinced.
Sasha reaches behind her silky hair and unties the knot. The dress drops to her waist, exposing her perfect, pale tits to the moonlight. I literally growl with excitement seeing them out in the open air like that. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Sasha’s tits exposed outside before. I grab them with both hands and knead them hard. She moans and pushes at me. Her nipples are glass cutters, and she whimpers when I roll them.
“Feels like you so want to fuck me. Stop making me wait,” she says, pulling out my cock. Her warm hands and tight grip almost make me blast all over her dress, which would disappoint both of us.
Sasha turns and bends over, gripping the stack of lounges. She’s not bent all the way down, but her ass sticks out at me, and it’s an inviting target. I push my pants to my ankles and get in position behind her. I hike up her silky dress and roll down her panties. I try to slip the vibrator out of her, but she has it so slick my fingers can’t get purchase.
“Leave it,” she moans.
“Inside you?” I dumbly ask.
“I want to feel it while we do it.”
I think she’s crazy, but she’s so soaked that I think it could work. The vibrator is narrow and soft. The vibrations make me woozy when I fit myself to her. I don’t know if I can handle this. Excitement surges through me and I shove it up inside her with one thrust.
“Ahhh…yesss…aww…”
Her pussy is so tight around me with the toy in there too. The vibrations surge through the underside of my dick and all the way up my spine — and I don’t even have it turned up high. No wonder Sasha’s been losing her mind all night. I start pounding her the second I’m inside because I am not going to last, and I want to make sure she gets what she needs before I prematurely finish. The toy slips with me, but doesn’t slide out.
“Uhn…Sasha…you’re fucking drenched…fucking need it…”
“Ahhh…mmmhmm…ahhh…”
I keep one hand on her hip and grope for her tits with the other. I find one swaying orb and mash it. I’m too far gone to be worried about being too rough. Sasha loves it and shoves her ass back at me. Her head hangs down and her moans grow louder. I hear us squishing together from her excitement over the waves crashing behind us.
“Ahhh…ahhh…yeah…yeah…honey…”
We’re obscured, but not hidden. Sasha is visible bent over the stack of lounges, and anyone could see me hunched behind her. It’s obvious we’re fucking. I look up and don’t see anyone on the patio. The pool above us is closed, but another couple could wander out there. Sasha is getting loud enough that someone might come looking.
I’d last a long time on any other day when I’d already come twice — if I even had another one in me. But this has been the most erotic day of my life, and her pussy feels so good. The vibrator is rocking my world. I don’t know how to hold out.
“Ahhh…ahhh…fuck…ahhh fuck…Maxxx…fuck…”
Sasha shrieks and gushes while she clenches around me, pressing my dick tightly to the vibrator. I grunt her name, bury myself balls deep, and blast one more load, pumping it deep into her coming pussy. That cunt gets even tighter around me like she wants to milk everything she can from my cock. Sasha shrieks again and keeps coming.
“Ahhh fuck…fuck…oh god honey…Maxxx…”
I love how filthy her mouth is when she comes this hard. Sasha keeps moving on my dick, pushing back, even as I go soft. I wish I could keep going because she clearly wants more. Do I need to find someone who wants to fuck her on the beach? Have I made my wife so insatiable that she needs another man to fully satisfy her? How many men could she handle? Damn, how do I have that question about my wife? That’s insane, of course.
“Oh my god, that was amazing,” Sasha sighs, laughing.
She’s still bent over and grinding back against me, but it’s obvious we’re done. I’m soft and slip out of her. She reaches between her legs and pulls the vibrator out of her pussy. It’s loud out in the open. I find my phone in my pocket at my ankles and turn it off. Sasha rolls her panties the rest of the way down her legs and steps out of them. They’re ruined anyway. She turns and throws herself at me with a crushing hug.
“You are an evil, evil man, Mr. Wagner. I love you.”
“And you’re an insatiable slut, Mrs. Wagner. I love you too.”
The words slip out. Sasha would not like being called a slut under any other circumstances. She’s not angry.
“Can’t blame me. You’re responsible for this. I’m your creation. All your fault.”
I hold her tightly. “I’ll take the blame if I get the rewards.”
“Remember that. You’ve earned whatever you get.”
to be continued…



Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 7
Sasha makes a new flirty friend at breakfast who opens her eyes to all kinds of forbidden fun available at the resort…



I tried to convince Max to have sex with me again when we got back to our room last night. I don’t know what got into me — besides being teased all day and kind of drunk. I hadn’t had so many orgasms in one day since college. I dated a guy named Cole who was a member of the swim team, and he could just go all night.
Cole was huge and had the most incredible body I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’t look at him without getting wet. When his shirt came off, my panties followed. Cole would fuck me until I begged him to stop because I was getting sore, but secretly I didn’t care that I was sore and wanted him to keep going forever. My time with Cole was the last time I felt like this, like I just can’t get enough sex.
I felt so dirty dragging Max down to the beach for sex last night. I loved how surprised he was. It was sweet payback after the way he’d been teasing me all day. I made him leave the toy inside because I thought it might be fun. God, was it fun. That remote-controlled vibe might be my favorite thing ever. Having sex on the beach where we might be caught was exhilarating.
Max took good care of me, but I wanted more. I felt so slutty when I felt his cum running down my thighs on the walk back to our room. I pounced on Max and sucked him for a good ten minutes, but my poor husband had nothing left in the tank. I would not be getting it all night like I did with Cole, but that was okay. Is it shameful to admit that I made myself come one last time after he fell asleep?
Speaking of sleep, I had the best slumber of my life after yesterday. Max was sluggish and hungover this morning, but I woke up energized. He didn’t move quickly enough, and I headed down to the buffet without him. He can catch up.
Sun King’s brunch spread is impressive. I place an order at the omelet station and load a plate with fresh fruit while I wait. I should just have water to rehydrate, but I can’t resist the offer of a mimosa. Drinking champagne at 9:30 in the morning feels decadent.
I’m picking at my western omelet and checking my messages when Nigel approaches me. I look up from the message from Carly, our middle child, telling me everything is fine at home, to see him standing over me holding his breakfast plate.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks. I love his crisp, patrician English accent.
“I’m waiting for my husband.”
“He always seems to be leaving you unattended.”
“I could say that your wife never seems to be around either.”
“Keely and I are not a possessive couple. We don’t mind letting each other do our own thing.”
“You mentioned that last night.”
“Do you mind if I join you until…”
“Max.”
“…Max comes along?”
I should tell him no, especially after what he suggested last night, but the company would be nice, and his accent is charming. I gesture to the seat across from me. Nigel places a Belgian waffle loaded with strawberries and blueberries on the table beside his coffee and sits.
“Where is your wife this morning?” I ask, popping a chunk of mango into my mouth.
“Keely made a reservation for the early catamaran trip today.”
“That’s not your thing?”
“I enjoy boating and other watersports, but that doesn’t quite hold my attention. Keely’s met a lovely friend for activities she’d rather do without me.”
“I can’t imagine going on vacation with Max and then doing everything apart.”
“We don’t do everything apart. We just have our own interests. That begins to happen when you’re married as long as we’ve been.”
“How long is that?”
“Thirty-three years.”
“Wow, you must have married young.”
Nigel smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from a stunning young woman such as yourself.”
I have no idea how old Nigel is, but he’s not so much older than me. It’s not the sort of thing polite people ask, but I’d guess anywhere from mid-fifties to mid-sixties. He’s in very good shape, tall and lean. His light hair is thinning, and he has a naughty twinkle in his eye that I find appealing, even though he’s not my normal type. The accent makes him sexier too.
“Where is your erstwhile husband this morning, Sasha?”
“He’s back at our room sleeping off last night. Although, I hope he’s up by now. I expect he’ll be down soon.”
“What kind of mischief did you two find last night? You were having a good time when we met at the club.”
I can’t keep the smile from my lips when I think about Max taking me from behind on the beach last night. My core tightens just thinking about it. Does a flush rise to my cheeks? We’re eating on an open-air patio and the morning is already warm, and hopefully, Nigel won’t notice.
“Max and I are still exploring all of the resort’s hidden treasures.”
“Keely and I have been coming to Sun King for years. We love it. We feel we can be our authentic selves here, away from everyday life. I’m sure you and Max are finding it easier to cut loose in this tropical paradise.”
“Maybe,” I admit, my smile widening.
I pause to sip my mimosa to keep something too revealing from slipping out. I don’t know if this is my authentic self coming out, but I realize I do feel freer here to explore sides of myself I’d forgotten about, which explains last night.
“I don’t know if Max and I will ever be as free as you are. Does your wife know you proposition other women at the bar?”
“A direct woman. I like that. If that is supposed to be a dig, you didn’t object to my offer last night, as I recall.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“But you seemed to consider it.”
Did I? I was shocked that a man wearing a wedding ring would proposition me so openly — even though I shouldn’t be. I know men cheat. I was more shocked that he did it with my husband right there. I felt an unexpected surge of excitement when Nigel asked me to leave with him. I felt the same when the man at the airport bar offered me his number. But I didn’t consider going off with Nigel, did I?
“I just enjoy flirting. Is there something wrong with that?” I reply.
“Not as long as your husband doesn’t mind.”
I don’t realize I’ve drained my mimosa until a waitress appears to refill it. I should decline, but I don’t. I sip again right away because I almost tell my new friend that not only doesn’t Max mind, but he loves it. I know Max making me come in the club last night was a direct reaction to seeing me flirt with Nigel at the bar. I am beginning to wonder how far Max would take this. I can’t believe he’d actually want me to do something with another man, but would he have stopped me if I’d walked out of the club with Nigel? I’m not as sure as I would have been before we left on this trip.
“Max is the type of guy who likes it when his wife gets attention,” I reply. Did I soft-pedal it enough?
“I know them well. Very generous chaps.”
“You never answered. How does Keely feel about you propositioning other women?”
“I’ve said we have our own interests and activities. That does not just include snorkeling. Keely and I both believe we should be free to enjoy ourselves. I expect she will return to her friend’s room after her time out on the water this morning for some real fun.”
“You’re swingers?” I hate that I sound so shocked and naïve.
“That’s a word for it. Many couples here are.”
“This is a swinger’s resort?”
I’m even more shrill, not because I’m more shocked, but because I will kill Max if he brought me to a swinger’s resort with some secret plan. I looked at the Sun King website and saw no sign that it is for swingers, except maybe their little nude island.
“It is not, Sasha. You may relax. Sun King is, however, open to guests doing as they please, as long as they are not vulgar about it.”
“Did I give off a swinger vibe?”
“Not quite, but a woman as sexy as you will always catch my attention. I don’t believe a woman dresses as you did last night unless they are seeking that sort of attention, and you look just as delectable this morning, Sasha.”
I showered all the sex off me this morning, brushed out my hair, and threw on a tropical print tube dress. It’s short like almost everything else I packed for this trip, but I didn’t consider it sexy like my outfit from last night. Nigel’s compliment makes me tingle in a way I’m learning to like — perhaps too much.
“I didn’t see you exhibit any of the telltale signs of being in the lifestyle, but I was hoping,” he continues.
“There are signs? Please share.”
“Many couples in the lifestyle display an upside-down pineapple in some way to signal they are open. One may also wear a colored bracelet or ring to signify just how open they are. However, not everyone in the lifestyle does, which was why I approached hoping you were looking for a good time.”
“I’m always looking for a good time, Nigel.” The British gentleman wasn’t involved, but I had a great time last night.
“Perhaps then I shall win you over. Will you and Max join Keely and I for drinks later?”
“Only if you don’t have any expectations. I doubt Max and I will be opening our marriage after twenty-two years.”
Nigel laughs, and it’s somehow both condescending and charming. “That is precisely when most couples open, Sasha. Long-married couples often need the heat boost the most.”
“And neither of you ever gets jealous?”
“Jealousy is a human emotion, of course, it happens. I think Keely and I dealt with that early on, so it is not a problem for us. Some find a hint of jealousy spices things up when they play. Keely and I have such strong trust and love for each other that I never fear another man will take her from me. And perhaps if that does happen, she was not mine to begin with. Your Max does not seem like the jealous type.”
“He’s not at all.”
“Speak of the devil,” Nigel says, standing from the table.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Max says behind me.
“I’ve just been keeping your lovely wife company while she waits for you. She’s quite charming, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Sasha is amazing. I don’t mind when others realize it.” Max bends down to kiss me. “I’m glad she had company.”
“I am your man whenever Sasha needs someone to occupy her time.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Max replies. The men shake hands.
“I’ll be off then, but hopefully we will see you both later.”
Nigel takes his plate and goes. He managed to consume most of his breakfast while we talked. I’ve only picked at mine, but my second mimosa is almost gone. I’m famished and I dig in while Max sits.
“That’s the guy from last night, isn’t it?”
“Nigel,” I say between bites.
“Every time I leave you alone, there he is. It’s like he has a sixth sense for it.”
“Are you jealous? I thought you liked that sort of thing.”
“No, not jealous. It’s cool. I’m just not used to you entertaining strange men so often.”
“I wasn’t entertaining him,” I defensively reply. “We were just talking. He didn’t invite me back to his room this time.”
“Disappointed?”
Max’s strange look has me wondering if I could ask him the same thing. I smirk and say, “If you leave me on my own for so long, you have to expect someone will swoop in.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Especially here.”
“Oh?” Max looks like a little boy who’s been caught in a lie. Does he have a secret plan? I can’t believe it, even with how weird he’s been lately.
“Nigel told me some interesting things about this place.”
“Really? Like what?” I don’t buy his forced casual act for a minute.
“Sun King is a place swingers like to come and have fun. Nigel and his wife screw other people.”
“They’re swingers?”
“Okay, Max. Knock off the bullshit. Tell me what you know or last night was the last time you’ll be touching me for a very long time. And apparently, if I need it there’s no shortage of people here who’d be happy to give it to me.”
Max gets that weird look again like he might enjoy that. I’m beginning to wonder how well I know my own husband.
“The bartender at the pool bar told me some things yesterday that took me by surprise. Pretty much what Nigel told you. Sung King isn’t a swinger’s resort, but people get loose and crazy here and if they’re discreet management looks the other way.”
“So, we’re surrounded by swingers?”
“I didn’t get that impression. There are just some swingers here.”
“And why didn’t you tell me this yesterday? Is it why last night happened? Were you trying to dangle me as bait?”
“I would never, Sasha!”
“Hush. Go get some food. I want a minute to think.”
Max sulks off and I happily accept another mimosa refill. I’m feeling the buzz, but that can only help with all this new information. I do not want to believe that Max wants us to try swinging, but it makes sense given the way he’s been acting. I might be more upset that he didn’t just come out and tell me than I am about the idea of swinging, which is unfathomable. I’ve never thought about being with someone else. I’m happy with Max, and I don’t know that I could handle him being with someone else. But if he feels he needs it, I’d be open to thinking about it. We’ve only been at Sun King for a night, and I feel like I’m already opening to new possibilities.
I hold my fire and let him sit with his plate of bacon and bottle of water. Max looks like he doesn’t know what to say, and I soften towards him. I don’t know if I’m really angry. I don’t know what I think.
“I did not know that stuff happens here, and I was not using you to lure in another couple last night. I’m a man, I’ll admit I look, but I have never considered being with anyone else. I’m all about you, Sasha. You must know that.”
“I do. And I believe you, Max. I feel exactly the same way. But things have been different between us since we left home. Even before that, since we planned this vacation. Maybe we were in a rut, and this shook us out of it.”
“We’ve been having a ton more sex, but I didn’t feel we were in a rut.”
“Maybe that was the problem. Everything seemed fine because we were too comfortable. Anyway, something is going on. You’ve been pushing me to try all these things. You’ve been dressing me up like a sex doll, or your own personal stripper. Something is on your mind, Max.”
“That’s not entirely fair. I didn’t make you buy all those clothes. I didn’t even pick them out. Doing that was amazing, by the way. I love it. Maybe I’ve nudged you, but I haven’t made you do anything. Last night on the beach was your idea.”
“Something might be going on with me, too. I’ll admit that. I decided to lean into this idea of being sexy and daring, and I love it. I love feeling like this person who’s carefree and dangerous. I think being a mom has become too much a part of my identity and I want to be a woman again.”
“Seeing you like this is incredible, Sasha. I love everything about it. I’ve always liked when your sexy side comes out, especially when people notice. That’s not a secret.”
“When men notice.”
“Sure, when men notice. It’s hard to admit, but I get turned on when you get that attention.”
I reach across the table and take his hand. He hasn’t touched his bacon.
“You can tell me anything, honey. I’m not going to judge you. Knowing that you’re so into me after so many years feels good.”
“When you brought those outfits and modeled them for me, then seeing that guy flirt with you at the airport, and what we did on the plane, it’s like you’re my fantasy fulfilled, babe, and something’s been awakened in me. I know you said you won’t judge me, but I know this is all kind of fucked up. The more you do, the more it turns me on, and it makes me want to see just what you’re willing to do — like, how far would you go?”
My entire body buzzes like I have that toy inside me again. I’m afraid of just what Max means, but the possibility of something dangerous makes me wet. Oh god, who am I? This is not the woman who made Rice Krispie treats for Caleb’s class last week.
“How far do you want me to go, Max?”
“We’re being totally honest here, right? I’m not sure. I thought I knew, but now there are so many possibilities. What do you want, Sasha?”
I truly don’t know, but I’m closer than ever to believing Max wants me to be with another man. He just can’t say it. Why aren’t I dismissing the idea out of hand? I feel like we’re on the verge of agreeing to something so dirty and dangerous that we’ll never be the same again and that’s not who we are. We’re the couple who brings craft beer to game night with the neighbors, not the couple who has sex on a beach and tempts fate. Why am I considering this step into the unknown?
“I want to see where this goes while we’re here. I’ll stay open and trust you.”
“You’ll agree to whatever I want?” Max looks like he’s been handed the keys to a Ferrari.
“If I’m not comfortable, I’ll tell you no. I don’t think I can cross some lines, but up to that, I’m open to exploring.”
“Jesus, Sasha. We’re doing this.”
“Whatever this is.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more, babe. Dammit, I love you.”
I lean across the table and smile. “I am so wet right now, Max. You should take that bacon to go and follow me to our room.”
“Unless we find some quiet nook on the way.”
“Even better.”
to be continued…


Sasha’s Vacation Surrender I Ch. 8
Sasha has another very public orgasm when Max can’t keep his hands off her…


The bay is sapphire blue, the sand is white, and the sun high above baking into my skin reminds me that I’m alive, but what makes the day perfect is my beautiful wife lying beside me on the beach. She told me to pick her swimsuit for the day and I chose the green bikini with gold chains for straps, and a gold ring holding the little triangles of the top together. Sasha’s modest tits are squeezed together by the top and look like they’re going to fall out of it. Her skimpy bikini bottom is held together by gold rings on her hips. The only sign of the wife I know from home is the worn red baseball cap her ponytail is tucked through. It’s a reminder she’s just as cute as she is hot.
Sasha is a wet dream stretched out on the chaise next to me, and I think that might have been the one she held onto last night while I was fucking her on this beach. She tends to be pale because she’s half-Korean but is beginning to pick up some color in the strong Caribbean sun, which only makes her glistening skin more alluring.
I’d love to see Sasha at one of the neighborhood pool parties back home like this and watch the other guys fall all over themselves to stare at her. I know a few of the guys mentally undress her whenever they think no one is looking. I’ve seen the way they look at her ass. They would lose their shit if they saw all the skin my wife has on display beside me. Dana Richardson is considered the MILF of the neighborhood — and rightfully so — but Sasha is right up there. Sasha is my number one, but I’m biased.
The beach is crowded at midday and I’m on the alert for men scoping out my wife. I see two couples who look to be in their early thirties, but every other couple I see is about our age or older. Sasha is not the only fine-looking woman on the beach, but she is the sexiest. The men — and a few of the ladies — who’ve walked by all slowed down to check her out. Are they hoping she’s one of the available women at the resort? I feel like her new sexual confidence is a shining beacon.
Sasha mounted me like a professional bull rider when we got back to our room this morning. I tried to touch her and her warm up, but she was already soaked and just wanted it. The harder she rode me, the filthier her dirty talk became.
You want to show me off? Do you want men to want me? I get so hot when they stare at me. I bet you want them to touch me. I bet you want them to fuck me! I grunted my agreement with all of it while I mauled her bouncing tits, but it was that last bit that pushed me over the edge. I came so hard I had to think, maybe I do want to see someone fuck Sasha. She came just as hard, making me wonder if she was thinking about another man fucking her, maybe Nigel. I wouldn’t think a skinny, older guy would be her choice, but she seems to enjoy his company.
I came down from that high and realized that watching Sasha with another man would be insane, but the fantasy of her doing something with someone wouldn’t leave my head, especially when she quizzed me about exactly what Trinny told me at the bar.
“Are you going to buy me a pineapple charm?” she cooed, snuggling against me afterward.
“I thought you didn’t want to be dangled out there like bait.”
“I told you I’d keep an open mind.”
“I should get one just to test you.”
“Like I said downstairs, up to you.”
Sasha was toying with me, and we both knew it. I bet she’d pass out if I asked her to wear an upside-down pineapple. I don’t believe her mind is that open. Rather than being angry she teased me, I was excited. She hasn’t been playful like this in years — if ever. We’re already having the best time, even if nothing else happens.
I didn’t stop in the gift shop on our way to the beach, but I don’t rule it out. We have two full days at Sun King before we fly out on Monday. I look at her slick, sparkling chest and picture a little gold, upside-down pineapple nestled there to tempt the guys at the resort. I’m afraid if I do dangle Sasha out there, she’ll be swarmed before I can take it back if I get cold feet.
“I’m going to take a dip. It’s sweltering out here. Join me?” she says, setting down her Kindle.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I want to be behind her because I love watching that ass jiggle when she trots down to the water. Sasha tugs at the bottoms, but they can’t cover that sweet peach. Her ass is in great shape, but being in her forties has given it a little extra movement that I can’t get enough of. I look from her ass to the other guys on the beach. Yeah, it’s weird that I’m looking at guys, but I want to see them looking at her. Sasha is a work of art and I want to make sure she’s appreciated.
The guys in our immediate vicinity are looking, of course, because they’re men. Their admiration ranges from subtle to staring. My mind goes to a dark, dirty place. What would they do to Sasha? I start picturing their hands all over her on the dance floor while she grinds into them, but soon they’re peeling off that little dress from last night. I imagine Sasha going to her knees. Finally, it’s not me behind her on the beach last night, but some powerful bull making her scream.
Who would she choose? It’s weird to consider your wife’s taste in other sex partners. I think of myself as the baseline, of course. Sasha would be attracted to a man like me because she is attracted to me. I’m in decent shape, six feet tall, keeping the dad bod mostly at bay because I feel the pressure to keep up with my wife. My head is shaved as a concession to a receding hairline, just like a lot of guys my age. My beard has more gray than I’d like, and it’s more obvious as I’ve let it grow out longer. I see a couple of guys nearby who are similar to me. One is much hairier and has more of a gut. I can’t see Sasha wanting him. The other is in better shape and has a full head of gray hair to match a sculpted beard. Could I handle seeing Sasha with a better-looking guy — if I could handle it at all?
Sasha might want something different. Why not? If you get the chance to order something not on the menu, you’d choose something more exotic, right? She’d probably want to experience a really hot guy if she did this. I don’t see any true studs around me on the beach, except for the lifeguard and the guy working the rental shack. The lifeguard looks like he spends every moment off the beach in the gym. The arms exposed by his white tank top are corded with muscle and his torso is thick. His hair is a natural tight afro. I don’t know if he’s handsome because he’s turned away from me. His eyeline goes straight to Sasha frolicking in the water.
A fantasy instantly assembles in my mind. The lifeguard, I call him DeSean, is always on the prowl for a hot tourist wife away with her husband. He’s big and charming, and supremely confident and gets his pick of the guests. Trinny told me fraternization is frowned upon, but it can happen if everyone involved is discreet. I bet DeSean knows just how to work it.
Sasha would be crazy to refuse a huge buck like DeSean. I know she loves me, but how much temptation can a woman resist? She’d probably want it even if she didn’t have my permission. One look at the powerful lifeguard and she’d have to give herself to him. I almost laugh at this new idea I have of my wife being a slut who can’t keep her legs closed, which is not the Sasha I’ve been married to for twenty-two years.
“Are you coming in or what?” she calls out from the water. She’s only waist-deep, which means most of her sweet body is still on display.
I wave back to her and look around to make sure no one is paying attention when I adjust myself in my swimming trunks. I can’t stand if I don’t. I wade out to Sasha and my hard-on uncomfortably bounces against my trunks. Getting into the water is a relief, but being closer to my wife doesn’t make my erection go down. It only grows when she presses against me.
“What do you think of doing it out here in the water with everyone there on the beach? We could just wade out a little deeper and let the water hide us,” she suggests, kissing me. My cock surges.
“Everyone would know, babe. It’s hard to hide that motion.”
Sasha pulls my bottom lip with her teeth and it’s painful but exciting. I love the new, sex kitten version of her. Her hand pushes into my trunks and grips me. Damn, I might come in my trunks.
“What if I don’t care? What if I just need it that bad?”
“Mmm… I might just call your bluff. Did you think of that?” I counter by pulling her bottoms aside to rub her smooth slit. We all know water isn’t great for lubrication, but I still feel how wet she is.
“Ahhh, who says I’m bluffing? You want everyone to look at me. This will really get them looking.”
Sasha hops up and wraps her legs around me. She’s a little thing, but I stagger before I get my balance. She kisses me again and I grip that ass tight. I realize she might really want this. I’ve turned her into an exhibitionist. My cock feels like it’s going to explode. I should slip it into her.
“The lifeguard was looking, and I bet he enjoyed the view.”
“Was he? I hadn’t noticed.” Her smile belies her words. Sasha ate up his attention. She looks back over my shoulder and I know she’s staring at him. “He’s in charge. He probably has to stop us if we start fucking in the water.”
“Unless he’s enjoying the show.”
Sasha tightens her legs around me and grinds. I want to put it in her so bad. I know it will be quick — too quick.
“What do you think he’ll do if he hears me come? Will they put us in resort jail?”
“He’ll have to punish you somehow.”
“Ahhh, maybe he’ll just put me over his knee…mmm…and spank me in front of everyone. Max, honey, do it. Fuck me right here.”
I freeze when she tries to push down my trunks. Sasha is delighting in being bad, but I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can perform in front of everyone. A terrible thought — I don’t want that beefy lifeguard judging my performance and thinking he can fuck my wife much better than I can. Where the hell did that come from? I want everyone to see Sasha get fucked out here, but I want to watch too. I want to watch someone else fuck my wife. The realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning.
“Not here, babe. It’s too public,” I mumble.
Sasha laughs warmly. She’s not mocking me, but she’s pleased. “I guess I win this round.”
The way she kisses me and feeds me her tongue gives me second thoughts. I want nothing more than to give it to my wife very hard. But not here in front of everyone, even though it probably looks like we’re already doing it because of how she moves her body. I turn us and start wobbling back to shore before she convinces me to do it.
“What do you think you won?” I ask when she hops down.
Her second laugh is teasing, and she splashes me. “I’ll spring it on you when the time is right.”
Sasha said I was in the driver’s seat on all this, but now I’m not so sure.
I’d love to say that we ran right back to our room and spent the rest of the day fucking, but it was much more uneventful. Sasha and I stayed on the beach sunning ourselves and being waited on by Sun King’s superlative staff. After a couple of hours, we transfer to the pool with the swim-up bar. We’re both buzzed by the time we make our way up, walking hand in hand and hanging on each other.
Benches are carved into the side of the pool and Sasha sits in my lap, rubbing my smooth, shaved head. My arm is around her, just short of groping her. Our behavior is normal for the resort, and no one pays attention to us. Another couple on the other side of the pool look like they’re going to have sex right here. Sasha purrs watching them and tilts me up to kiss her.
Sasha grinds her butt into my crotch while we make out like teenagers. She turns to press a soft, warm orb into my hand. The tight tip burrows into my hand and I peel her bikini aside enough to tease it. Sasha hisses into our kiss. I’d love to go up to our room, but fooling around in front of everyone is more fun. I know we’ll get upstairs and get off eventually anyway. She’s panting when the kissing stops and I wonder if she can wait. We didn’t fuck in the ocean, but maybe we’ll do it here.
I’d love to know where this woman has been for my entire marriage. We don’t have a dead bedroom or anything, but our sex life has tapered off over the years, just like everyone’s does. The thing is, I don’t remember our sex life being like this at its peak either. Sasha was a lot of fun when we started, but she was never the kind to let me get to second base in public. She’s turned into quite the show-off in the last twenty-four hours.
Sasha turns, presses her back against my chest, and pulls my arms around her. She feels perfect in my arms. We look to everyone around like we’re just a romantic couple snuggling, but she still wiggles her butt back against me. She wants to keep me hard.
Trinny isn’t behind the pool bar today. I’m disappointed, and I’m not sure why. She’s a virtual stranger, but I want to share everything that’s happened with her. Maybe it will all seem real if I tell another person. Right now, I feel like I’m living an intense wet dream. Trinny would have advice on how to move forward. I might need her reassurance to leap off the cliff.
“What is the plan for tonight?” Sasha asks.
“Dinner. I’m not sure what else. What would you like to do?”
“There’s a band playing on the rooftop lounge. That could be fun.”
“Especially if you get up and dance.”
“By myself?”
“You know I can’t keep up with you. You’ll have more fun if you do it without me, and I’ll have more fun watching you. It’s a win-win.”
“You love this way too much.”
Sasha giggles. She is not normally a giggly woman. I blame the drinks we’ve been sipping from coconut shells all day. Thank god, they also bring food to you on the beach, or we’d be seriously drunk.
“It might be fun.” I don’t know why I hedge my reply. Unless she’s touching my dick, I’m not comfortable admitting to my wife how into this I truly am.
“Could be fun for both of us. I know you’d like it. I feel it, Max.”
Sasha grips my thighs for leverage and leans forward to seriously grind her soft ass into my crotch like she’s giving a lap dance. I had no idea my wife had these moves.
“I’m all for you having fun, babe, but I might need some real fun of my own.”
“I thought I was your fun.”
“You are, babe, but it’s not fair if this is all one-sided. Besides, everyone here is coupled up. Swingers swap partners.”
“We’re swingers now?” She laughs.
“No, that’s crazy. I’m just saying…” I sputter, backtracking.
“You love it when I get attention, honey, but I’m the jealous type. I don’t know if I could handle another woman putting her hands on my man.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair. Haven’t you been telling the kids that for years?”
“Let me get this straight. You get to flirt and do whatever your heart desires, but I just have to sit back and watch, like some kind of wallflower?”
“Maybe. We’ll see. I don’t know. We could meet a couple with a guy that’s so hot that I’m so distracted I don’t even know what you’re doing.”
“Your friend Nigel invited us to drinks with his wife.”
Sasha laughs. “I don’t think he could distract me like that.”
“I don’t know. You find him charming.”
“You’re hoping his wife is your type?”
“I have an open mind, babe. I’m not hoping for anything. I’m just going with the flow.”
“Yeah, right Max.”
I meant it when I said I’ve never thought about being with another woman. My whole thing is about Sasha being her sexiest self, whatever that means. But now that the seed is planted, I have an image of both Sasha and me fooling around with another couple. Maybe Nigel’s wife is hot. I’d lose my mind if I could watch my wife hooking up while his wife goes down on me. What a crazy thought! The second-guessing oozes in behind it. All of that supposes that I truly want to see Sasha with another man.
Sasha lays back against my chest and my hand slips into her bikini bottom. She’s past pretending she doesn’t want it. She would blame the alcohol, but I know it’s more than that. I’m still not used to feeling her so smooth down there, but I love it. I hope she keeps her pussy like this when we return home. Her furrow is slick and invites my fingers right in. I tease up and down in broad strokes like I’m painting a wall. Sasha moans and lays her head on my shoulder.
“Mmm…you love teasing me in public…”
“I do. Nothing is hotter. I love how you struggle to hold it together.”
“What if I…ahhh…don’t? What if I get…mmmm…really loud?”
“That would be even hotter, babe. Get as loud as you want.”
I challenge Sasha because I know she won’t do it. The new her isn’t that far gone, but it would be thrilling if she shouts and makes a public spectacle of herself when she comes. I catch one or two couples looking to see what we’re up to and I get even harder. Sasha’s ass is really moving on my lap now that I’m rubbing her. Knowing we have an audience makes me bolder. I slip my other hand inside her top and roll her nipple between my fingers.
“Ahhh…you do want to make me…mmmm…scream…”
I nudge her hair aside with my chin and nibble on her neck and earlobe. “Everyone will know you’re coming, Sasha. All these people at the pool are going to look over and watch you.”
“Ahhh…god…nooo…I can’t…mmmm…do that…Maxxx…”
Sasha’s moans are low and controlled, but she barely stifles a shriek when I pinch her thickening bud harder and concentrate on her button down below. I don’t do it as much as I used to — or as much as I should — but I learned long ago just how to rub her to bring a quick climax. Flicking fingertips get her panting and shaking. Her nails dig into my leg, and I grunt in pain. Her moans are just under her breath but getting louder. Sasha is losing control.
I wish I was across the pool or in one of those chaise lounges and could watch this. Sasha must be super nova hot. I’m looking down her body because I love looking at her, but I sneak a peek up to see who’s looking. The couple across from us is still all over each other, but they’re watching us while their hands are busy below the water. A solo guy in a chaise by the side of the pool also watches us. Leering would be more accurate. He’s older and out of shape — Sasha would never let him touch her — but his trunks are impressively tented. I hope he goes back to his room and jerks off thinking about my wife.
“Ahhh…ahhh…Maxxx…fuck…”
Sasha locks her thighs over my hand and tenses. Her orgasmic energy surges into me and I almost come right with her. She doesn’t scream, but she’s loud enough that anyone close can hear her over the background music floating over the pool area. The couple watching is all smiles and by the way the woman’s mouth hangs open, I think her man just made her come too. The voyeur in the chaise looks like he’s barely resisting touching himself. Damn, this is perfect.
“Mmm, Mr. Wagner. You’re so evil,” Sasha coos in my arms. She pulls my hand out of her lap but doesn’t mind the one tenderly massaging her breast.
“I think you like it that way, Mrs. Wagner.”
“You’ll find out later, honey. Payback is a bitch.”
to be continued…









