Watched and Watching

As soon as the weather starts to get really grim in London, Lizzie and I head for warmer climes if we can. It’s not every year we can manage it, but with our ability to work from anywhere these days, we usually get at least a month abroad.

At the end of 2023, we decided to go and find some pretty much guaranteed sunshine in Florida, at least for a week or two. I stayed in Key West as a very young man on an adventure with a friend from work, and I have felt nostalgic and fond of the place ever since. I once visited the actual (cheap) hotel we had stayed in all those years ago when I was in the Keys, and I was delighted to see it was exactly as I remembered it, and even the manager was the son of the Norwegian couple who owned and ran the place when I was first there.

When I told Lizzie about the place, and in particular about Jim and I bringing two local girls back and fucking them in the same bed at the same time, she insisted on seeing the place. For some of that blissful night years ago, I had one very attractive girl on my face and another on my cock, facing each other and kissing deeply, stroking each other’s hair and faces tenderly, stopping every now and then to come as the other held them. I didn’t last long, letting Jim take over while I recovered, and then he’d come and we’d swap again. Shift fucking—amazing.

This time we stayed a night in the same room, as near as I can remember it, and had a long, leisurely fuck while Lizzie quizzed me for every detail I could remember. My wife takes great pleasure in these recollections, and no detail is too small to interest or excite her. She wanted to know if I could remember how wet the girl on my face was, if she was shaven, if we used condoms with them, how big Jim’s cock was—the sounds, the smells—everything.

Late that night, I had a shock of nostalgia as we heard live blues music drifting through the window, the traffic having slowed to a trickle, allowing us to listen clearly. I remembered that Jim and I had heard it way back then, precisely like this, and had tracked down a proper old bar (well, how I imagine a proper old American bar to look), about three streets away. Lizzie and I hurried off to find it again, and I was almost tearful for some reason when we stepped through the door and down the short staircase. There was a young guy playing guitar on the small stage, unaccompanied—unlike the man who was there in that exact spot last time I visited, who had a small backing band and looked about 150 years old.

Delighted, Lizzie and I sat at the bar on stools in the tiny room as I watched and listened for a couple of hours. Lizzie was having one or two dances with lovely men older than her grandfather, who kissed her hand and escorted her to and from the stool next to me. She adored every minute, as did I.

Memory Lane was well and truly visited. We left the next day and checked into a much more salubrious suite in a beach-side resort hotel to spend a week or two relaxing in the sunshine.

For the few weeks leading up to fleeing the country, we had been experimenting in the UK with a remote-controlled vibrator. We’d had a brief play with one in the past but not really thought properly about the opportunities it presented for adventure, so we’d decided we were going to use it to come up with scenarios as hot as we could jointly imagine while we were away.

The problem with this plan was that Lizzie had bottled out of taking the device in her bag when we flew—imagining all sorts of humiliating scenarios involving searches of her cases and her person when it was seen on the x-ray scanner, with some customs officer waving it about for all to see. It's funny how reserved Lizzie can be about seemingly trivial things when she’s such a filthy slut at other times.

Which meant we needed to buy the vibe locally and have it shipped to the hotel. In this, of course, Amazon was our friend, and we chose several other toys while we were at it, all to be delivered the next day.

We spent the next day exploring the hotel, grounds, beach, and local area, spending an hour or two lazing in the sunshine (Lizzie) and reading in the shade (me). Lizzie wore a skimpy pink two-piece bikini and, as usual, attracted a lot of attention, which I know she was keeping tabs on through her blacked-out sunglasses, as was I. We would, as usual, discuss who had checked her out, who she most fancied, and what we thought they wanted to do later in our room, normally between going down on her.

Just a quick note here: it’s not the typical six-pack guys or girls with the perfect teeth and tan who usually excite my wife; it’s normal people stealing longing glances who, we know from experience, are usually better lovers—well, more often than the self-obsessed gym bunnies in any case. Lovers who make things all about themselves are not good lovers. Our conversations then often involve statements like, “Did you see that tubby old guy staring at your crotch? He practically stopped walking; he slowed down so much in a daydream.”

“Hmm.. the grey-haired Mediterranean, maybe Greek? Yes. I saw him. Nice bulge in those trunks. He slowed down so much because I parted my legs a little when he was watching. God..”

While I used my thumb gently on Lizzie’s clitoral area, my tongue slowly moved just inside her cunt lips.

We got a call from reception saying a package had arrived for us, and Lizzie bounced off to collect it, excitedly wearing a silky gown over her bikini.

I settled on the balcony with a book, my head filled with the possibilities the remote vibe would bring.

I didn’t notice my wife had been gone for half an hour until the door slammed closed behind her and she rushed into the room. As I turned to greet her, I noticed her face was flushed. She was pulling at the knot at the side of her bikini bottoms, letting them fall away as she immediately bent over a chair, her arse ******* to me.

“Fuck me—fuck me now," she said, a little breathless.

I stood, my cock growing at the sight of a little trickle of her clear come running down her inner thigh, and stood behind her. Spitting on my hand and rubbing my cock, I put one hand on her back and used the other to guide myself into her. She came the instant my balls touched her arse, my cock fully home, and as I fucked her, my hands on her hips pulling her toward me, she struggled to speak.

“Christ, the man at security, he... oh fuck.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“He saw, on the scanner, my dildo. Fuck me harder.”

"Jesus, he did? And?”

“He took me into his office. He showed me the pictures.”

“God, he did?”

"Yeah, that made me wet. He was looking at me, at the dildo. Knowing he stared at my crotch, I saw my cunt wet in my bikini. Oh my God.”

“Did you...?”

“Blew him. He was so hard, looking at the screen, then at me." staccato as I rammed into her cunt.

This really, really turned me on. I love when my wife has these encounters on her own and tells me about them later.

I gently pulled Lizzie’s hair and turned her face. Leaning over her back, I could just reach to kiss her, and as I moaned and came hard inside her, my cock pumping over and over as I pictured the scene in my head, I could smell and taste come from her mouth.

“Fuck… I can taste him."

Lizzie came hard as I told her, bucking on my cock even as I emptied myself into her cunt.

I pulled out, eventually, when the chair back started to dig into Lizzie’s ribs, allowing our combined cum to fall noisily to the floor between her open legs, and we retired, shaking, to the bed for a nap, the cooling sea breeze from the open window blowing over our nakedness. I remarked, of course, on the irony of the situation: Lizzie not wanting airport security to see the vibe on their scanners but ending up wet and blowing the guy who actually did because it turned her on so much.

We woke in the early evening, and, after a shower and changing into more suitable dinner attire—me a light pair of cotton trousers and an open shirt, Lizzie a flimsy summer dress decorated with red roses—we set out in search of food.

As we reached the lift, I stopped, remembering the most important thing I had wanted to do tonight before Lizzie’s adventure with the hotel security guard had driven all else from my mind.

Putting a hand on Lizzie’s arm, I said, “Wait, I forgot something; come with me." and steered her back to the room.

We had unpacked and charged the vibrator earlier, and I had paired the app with my phone and tested it. Lizzie’s eyes lit up as I kneeled in front of her, pushing her dress up, and, pulling her black lacy thong to one side, gently pushed the vibrator inside her, the small removal tab being the only part of it left *******.

Re-arranging my wife’s clothing, I grinned, “Quick test," and gave her a three-second mild buzz.

Lizzie’s eyes went wide, and her hands dropped automatically to her crotch, her thighs clenched together.

“Jesus, you’d better be careful with that thing or I’ll be coming all fucking night," she chuckled.

We left the room for the second time and made our way to the ground floor and an outside table in one of the hotel restaurants, choosing the busier of the three or four on the basis that popularity is always a good sign when dining out.

Both the wine and the food were, indeed, excellent, as was the fun I had making my wife come twice at the table, once when talking to a waiter, who must have thought she had a breathing problem—she came hard, trying to keep up a normal conversation while wetting her seat.

Food over, we ordered some cocktails, and I moved to sit next to Lizzie so we could both look out over the dark sea and listen to the surf. My back had been to the view all evening, and sitting here with my wife was so relaxing that I was starting to contemplate bed.

Giggling, Lizzie said quietly, “I think that woman might have noticed what we were up to—she's really staring.”

“Which?”

“Short dark hair, jean shorts, family table, what looks like husband, in-laws, kids everywhere.”

“What, really? She looks too busy to have noticed anything.”

“Yeah, seriously, she’s been staring for ages—like an hour. Keeps coming back to us.”

As I looked, I could see, in the dimmed lights, that the woman did indeed seem to be staring intently in our direction.

Everyone else on her giant table, probably two or three pushed together, was busy making a racket and controlling unruly kids, including a much older couple who I assumed were grandparents.

“They’re either seriously loaded or just here for dinner," I said, reflecting on the cost of rooms for so many people.

“Yeah, one or other, but she’s still looking," murmured Lizzie, her voice getting that very slight hoarseness I know so well—she was slightly aroused.

I reached over, and putting my hand on her thigh, I gently and slowly pulled Lizzie’s legs open, lifting her silky dress at the front to ****** her thong. Lizzie, as I suspected she would, showed she was bought into it by lifting her arse slightly off the chair to allow me to slide the dress further up.

I returned my hand to my wife’s thigh and slid it down towards her knee, pulling her leg slowly toward me. Relishing it, she waited for me to move my hand to her other knee and didn’t resist when I pushed it away from me, splaying her legs completely.

As she began to breathe deeply, I lifted my phone, deliberately showing it to the classic soccer mom-type woman who was still observing us intently.

Lizzie gasped as I turned the vibrator on a low pulse, her hands loose by her sides as she moved her hips in time with the device. I could just hear it, really quietly, as it buzzed away inside her cunt, getting softer as her muscles tightened on it and louder as she relaxed.

I looked over at our voyeur. She seemed to make a decision and reached into a bag hanging on the back of her chair, removing a pack of cigarettes and a shiny Zippo lighter. She called a name, and the older woman, a child on her lap, looked up. Waving her cigarette pack at her, our watcher stood and moved quickly to an empty table, luckily more in the gloom and directly opposite us, with nobody else within earshot, although plenty of people were enjoying their food not far away.

Lizzie was breathing heavily as I increased the intensity of the vibe, making her push her hips a little more into it, her hands still loose by her sides, and her legs still splayed.

I watched with a dry mouth and increased heart rate as the woman lit a cigarette, which she held up in her left hand, and immediately dropped her right hand to the crotch of her jean shorts, rubbing herself quickly through the denim, her toes on the ground, and her heels pushed up against the legs of her chair.

“Fuck. This is hot. I’m so fucking wet, said my wife quietly.

I had already been erect, but my cock felt like it could break glass now.

I opened my fly and grabbed Lizzie's left hand, moving it to my cock.

She pulled it away and said, in a 'don't fuck with me on this' voice, "No. This is me and her. You can sort yourself out if you want to. This is the same as not letting you touch me when a man is fucking me—this is not about you."

Slightly surprised but even more aroused, as I always was when she went full-on cuckold with a man, I sat back to watch.

Lizzie made a gesture with her right hand to the woman—a clear imitation of pulling a zip-down.

Glancing over at her table, where everyone was still engrossed in family activity, I moaned, and so did Lizzie, as she slowly, gently, and teasingly slid her zip fly down and popped the button at her waist, leaving her shorts completely open at the front.

She instantly slid her right hand inside her jeans, and we could see her knuckles moving fast as she worked to make herself come. Her hips were pushing, in as controlled a manner as she could manage, against her hand, and we could see her legs were straining against the chair legs, as if they were tied to them.

I switched the vibrator to continuous, and Lizzie groaned, still refusing to move her hands from her sides but gyrating her hips in her chair now; her dress worked all the way to her waist. I could see the damp patch between her legs when I leaned forward.

They both moved faster; the woman opposite, having completely forgotten about her cigarette, which she had dropped to the floor, now had both hands inside her jeans, glancing quickly at her table every few seconds.

I could tell Lizzie was close, and she upped the speed a little.

The woman removed her left hand from her shorts and held up four fingers, on which I could see her come glistening in the light from where I sat.

She dropped one finger, two seconds later, another. She was counting down.

When she closed her fist, she leaned forward in her chair, her legs shaking, head down as if in the aircraft “brace” position. Lizzie came at the same time, trying hard not to lose control as she bucked and pushed as quietly and covertly as possible against the vibe in her cunt.

A few seconds later, the woman seemed to remember where she was and stood quickly, her back to her family, as she pulled her zip up and fastened her button, glancing at us as she did so. Hesitating, she walked over to us, offering me a cigarette as if I’d asked her for one.

“I’m not in this hotel," she said softly. Her voice, which was unmistakably southern, was shaky.

“But I can get away; I’m here for two weeks. What’s your room number?”

As I told her, Lizzie made sure she couldn’t be seen and took the woman’s hand, placing it quickly between her legs, saying, “Look how wet you made me—please come and see us.”

The woman took her hand back and, looking at Lizzie, sucked her fingers clean before hurrying back to her table and immediately joining in with the general chaos and hubbub.

Lizzie and I stayed watching for a while, zoned out.

"Well," said my wife, eventually, “that was different.”

"It was amazing," I said. "Truly. Now, how about me?"

Lizzie looked languidly at me. slowly wrapping some of her long hair around her fingers. "I think I'm going to spend some time this break focused on me. If you like, I'll watch you wank, or you can go down on me and I'll tell you what it was like to be with that woman, but that way you aren't allowed to touch your cock. Choice is yours."

I love Lizzie in this mode; something about being cuckolded by a woman was also a huge turn-on.

I decided to go down on her. It took me a while to come without touching myself, but in the end, her description of what had just happened tipped me over the edge. Lizzie told me that I was not to come without telling her first, so when the first pre-cum started to run down my cock, I told her, and she pushed me away and said, "On your back, come on yourself."

Grunting with pleasure, I did just that. Lizzie carefully licked every little bit off of my chest and stomach, then kissed me deeply, letting most of it fall into my mouth.

We were away another nine weeks; none of it was dull.

Lizzie and I don’t really do the whole cuckold scene thing because our lives are really more akin to what was called swinging when we first started (before we met, in both cases). Every now and then we do wander off into cuckold territory, sometimes as role-play and, less often, because Lizzie actually wants to get to me for whatever reason. I don’t mind this at all, however, because with it comes the dominant version of Lizzie, which, taken every now and then, I very much enjoy. It’s made me expand my horizons. For example, I would never have imagined myself capable of sucking a cock if it weren’t for Lizzie pushing me to.

It’s weird, now that I think about it, that straight men expect straight women to enjoy making out and going down on each other for our pleasure, yet most men, me included, would not entertain returning the favor with another guy.

I’m hardly a habitual bisexual, but I’m more than capable of enjoying a three- or four-way relationship with men these days.

I tell you this because the first time Lizzie pushed me to go with a man was in a hotel in Florida, very much like the one we spent a couple of weeks in last year, and history has repeated itself somewhat.

On that occasion, we had taken a waiter back to our room, and he fucked Lizzie hard. I was lying next to her on the bed, stroking her face as she came on his thick cock.

For years, I’ve loved kissing my wife after a man has exploded in her mouth and going down on her as a stranger’s cock leaks from her cunt, so I assume Lizzie thought taking a cock in my mouth was no big deal, and she wanted to see it.

As usual, we had made the guy promise to tell us when he was going to come so Lizzie could decide whether to make him pull out, which varies from time to time and adventure to adventure.

He said, breathless, “OK, I’m fucking close.”

Lizzie, her eyes not leaving mine, said, “In our mouths."

I just assumed I’d misheard, but as the young man took his cock, already leaking pre-cum, from Lizzie’s cunt and scrambled to kneel over her face, Lizzie grabbed his cock and moved the head to my lips.

“Open wide," she said.

I did nothing, a little confused, although I could feel his hot cock head against my lips, and it was not unpleasant.

“Open your fucking mouth; I want to see you blow him," she said forcefully.

I did as I was told, and my wife fed 3 inches of his hard, wet cock into my mouth. Turning to the waiter, who seemed completely at ease, she said, “Go on—fuck his face."

He clamped his hands over my ears and held my head tight as he shoved the rest of his cock into my mouth, making me gag as it touched the back of my throat. I tried to raise my hands to shove him away, but Lizzie grabbed my arms, holding tight.

“Just breathe through your nose. That’s it. And get ready, his balls are tightening."

As soon as she said this, he stopped fucking my face and moved his hands to the back of my head, pulling me hard toward him. I felt my mouth fill with hot, salty, heavy liquid, and the only way to breathe was to swallow it all.

As he pulled his softening cock out of my mouth, my wife straddled me and kissed me deeply. I felt her wet cunt slide effortlessly over my rock-hard cock as she fucked me, her tongue still in my mouth.

When she came on my cock, rubbing her own nipples hard as she sat up, she breathed, “Fuck, that was hot. I came when he came into your mouth, and I saw you swallow it, and your cock is so fucking HARD."

She was right; my cock was completely rigid and had been since my wife had pushed the waiter into my mouth.

I came inside her, and she immediately sat on my face, allowing my breath to run back into my mouth, some of it escaping over my chin but most of it going down my throat.

Fast forward a few years, and here we are in Florida again—a nicer room, a bit older, but still on the prowl for adventures together.

Lizzie had a new fantasy: she’d seen an amateur porn video where a guy stayed in hotels around the world and secretly filmed himself wanking on the bed while waiting for the maid to come and tidy the room. He didn’t reply when they knocked, and so they walked in on him, stroking his big cock. Most of them looked embarrassed (although they all looked at his cock for a few seconds) and left quickly, but some, a significant minority, wandered closer, watching until he came. A smaller percentage blew him, wanked him, or, on a couple of occasions, fucked him.

Lizzie wanted very much for us to try and recreate this scenario, and I was going to wank naked on the bed while she summoned room service. She would pretend to be in the shower and not hear the door, and we would see what happened. She’d been talking about this fantasy for weeks, and it turned me on too, of course, so we went ahead and tried it. Lizzie had a little twist, of course. She maintained that the maid would be more likely to do something with me if I pretended; at first, I didn’t know she was in the room. I would wear a sleep mask, and Lizzie could then watch secretly through the crack in the bathroom door to see what happened.

All went to plan. I got hard and laid wanking on the bed, naked, with my sleep mask on. Lizzie called room service and went to the bathroom. The door opened an inch or two, and the shower was on.

We heard, and ignored, the door being knocked a few times. I got unexpectedly hugely excited when I heard the passkey beep and the door open.

When the member of staff stepped into the room, I could feel their uncertain pause, the door not closing on its spring as they stayed half in and half out. I stroked myself faster, pushing into my fist a little with my hips.

Then I heard the door shut, and quiet footsteps moved over the carpet, a tray audibly left on a table, then louder steps as they approached the bed.

I felt the bed compress slightly; they were sitting next to me. I was really hard now, stroking fast. I almost came when I felt my cock engulfed in a warm, wet mouth—my lips moving over my head, gently pushing my foreskin back, and then dropping all the way down my shaft, expertly taking my whole cock before slowly sliding back up again, leaving my cock wet.

I had my hands by my sides, fists gripping the bed cover, my hips bucking as I pushed hard into the delicious cunt-like mouth. A delicate hand took mine and pulled it to the back of their head, long silky hair bunched under my hand as I twisted it between my fingers and ****** their head toward me, really fucking their face now.

As I grunted and came, I held myself hard against them, only relaxing my grip on their hair when I had completely drained myself of coming. The heavy nasal breathing accompanied by swallowing noises told me that my come had slid down their throat.

I heard the bathroom door open and my sleep mask being gently pulled up. I looked into my wife’s slightly amused but clearly incredibly aroused, red face, noting as she removed my mask that her fingers were trailing her own silvery come.

"Darling," she said, “meet William."

Shocked, I focused past Lizzie and saw a slight, toned, dark-skinned young man putting his long hair back up. He smiled at me. “Nice cock; you came really hard; I nearly couldn’t swallow it all."

I muttered, “Thanks,” as Lizzie produced a couple of hundred dollars and passed it to William, who pecked her on the cheek and said, “Any time, darling, my pleasure," and left, the door shutting behind him.

Lizzie straddled me, and her hands between her legs rubbed my soft, wet cock vigorously.

“Can you get hard again right now, or will it be a while?" she asked in a whining tone.

“Give me a few minutes, Lizzie.”

“I’ll use this," she said, reaching into the bedside drawer for a large dildo, sliding it effortlessly inside her dripping cunt, and proceeding to fuck herself to orgasm while straddling me, dripping onto my stomach. By the time she’d come again, I was hard and slid easily inside her so she could tell me, in detail, everything she’d seen from the bathroom. She was so turned on by him sucking my cock that she wanted to do it again immediately. I said I was game but wanted to see her fucked too.

So that’s the next thing we arranged.

Lizzie and I were lying by the pool some days later, me in the shade as usual, Lizzie going browner by the minute in the sun, when a shadow made us both look over our reading material to see who had stopped next to us.

With a tingle of pleasure, I realized it was the woman who had masturbated with Lizzie not 100 feet away from where we were now a few nights ago. She was wearing a one-piece costume, barefoot, with a flimsy shawl covering her shoulders. Water was running off of her, forming a small puddle at her feet as the remnants of her swim dried in the sun.

"Hey," said the woman.

"Hi," said Lizzie, smiling warmly at the woman. I said, "Hello," and, remembering my manners, stood and moved to sit on the lounger to my right, leaving the newcomer the vacant one between Lizzie and me. I gestured to it, and she set her back more upright and sat, crossing her ankles and watching the swimmers intently.

“I’m Rae," she said casually.

"Lizzie," said my wife, and then, gesturing lazily in my direction, “He’s Charles.”

Rae nodded, still looking absently straight ahead.

It was a very relaxed, contented atmosphere. Three old friends gathered around a pool, happy with shared silence, which was odd considering Rae and Lizzie had watched each other come on their own a few nights ago.

“I went to your room and found you here.” Her accent was lovely, Southern, warm, slow, but not a drawl—considered.

“Would you like to go to our room with us?" asked my wife quietly, with no urgency.

“Sure. I’d like a Mojito first, though. Do they do those?”

“They do everything. I’ll hail a passing waiter, I said, catching the eye of a young man smartly dressed in a shirt and bow tie.Not ideal for these temperatures.

Nobody spoke until her drink arrived, then Rae asked Lizzie, gesturing at her bikini bottoms, “They’re really small; don’t leave much to the imagination. I was wondering, They’re so skimpy; you must be shaven, right?”

Lizzie chuckled, “Waxed. All over.”

“They do that? I mean, the waxing places will do the whole thing."

"Sure, I’ve been having it done for years.”

Rae seemed to ingest this information, and then, dragging her gaze from my wife’s crotch, she stood and stretched. “Ready?”

We were ready. Five minutes later, we shut our room door behind us and stepped into air-conditioned opulence.

“This is nice," said Rae. “Our hotel is nice too, but the room is a little small for us and the kids."

We took some champagne from the fridge out to the balcony and sat in silence looking at the sea, stunning at that time of the afternoon with the warm orange sun reflected in its surface.

"So... Rae," began Lizzie, emphasizing Rae’s name as if she enjoyed saying it aloud. “What do you want?”

Rae turned to Lizzie, considering her for a moment, and then said, “I’m not sure, but I think it begins in bed with you.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

Rae spoke again: “I haven’t done anything with a woman for so many years, since college. What we did together the other night has stayed with me, and I want to do more and go further. It struck a chord with me—something I’m missing, even if only for a little while until I don’t miss it any longer. I came so hard, though. So hard. I was thinking about it last night when Howard, my husband, fucked me. He must think he’s suddenly the world’s greatest lover; I couldn’t stop coming.”

Lizzie stood and extended her hand, which Rae took, standing, and followed her to the bedroom.

I sipped my drink, and not until I could hear moaning did I slip into the room and sit in the corner armchair to watch.

Rae had her back to me, naked, sitting on Lizzie’s face, her palms against the wall above the headboard, bracing herself as she ground rhythmically against my wife’s face. Lizzie’s arms were locked around Rae’s thighs, holding her tight to her as her tongue flicked over Rae’s cunt lips, darting inside every few seconds. I had a very clear view from where I sat, and my cock was harder than iron as it pushed against my shorts.

Rae exclaimed, louder, with an intake of break, “OH!" and I saw her shiver and pause with her grinding before starting again with renewed enthusiasm. I could see that Lizzie had her tongue deep into Rae’s anus, something that had obviously not been a regular feature of Rae’s sex life to date, but she was definitely enjoying it.

Lizzie’s legs were splayed, her feet against the headboard, and her knees bent, completely ******** her to Rae above her.

Rae moved to go down on Lizzie, stopping a foot or two away, as if considering something. It was obvious she wasn’t sure about this step for some reason. Lizzie took her tongue from Rae’s wet anus for a second and breathed, "Please.".

Rae dropped her head all the way between Lizzie’s legs and drew her long tongue the length of Lizzie’s engorged cunt.

Lizzie shivered and moaned into Rae’s arsehole before moving her attention back to her cunt.

Rae was really into this now—licking, grinding, and moaning, with sweat appearing in the small of her back, which I love.

Lizzie came before Rae, taking her mouth away from Rae’s cunt to breathe deeply, pushing her hips up from the bed to thrust against Rae’s face, giving a loud, “Oh Fuck!" and her thigh muscles bulging.

Rae came a few seconds later. To our surprise and Lizzie’s delight, she was a genuine squirter, and after the initial shock, Lizzie sealed her mouth over Rae’s cunt and swallowed all of it noisily. Rae was making a primal, groaning noise, shuddering with pleasure.

When she’d calmed down, she said, "I don’t always do that. I haven’t in a long time, actually. I did a little when we watched each other the other night, but it’s been a while... I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

Lizzie laughed and said, “Never apologize for being so fucking hot, Rae. You taste amazing, and I swallowed every drop. I think he liked it too, she said, nodding at me.

Rae turned around, and her eyes went to the bulge in my shorts, lingering there for a few seconds.

“I certainly did, Rae.”

I stood and dragged my swollen cock from my shorts, where it slapped against my stomach, pointing at the ceiling and refusing to go down an inch.

“My God," said Rae, “it’s been a very long time since someone was that hard for me.”

“All fours, please," I said quietly.

Rae did as I asked, resting her head on the bed and pushing her arse high into the air.

Lizzie deftly and quickly rolled a condom over my cock, and I pushed into the wet, open cunt being pushed toward me. Rae was watching, fascinated, and staring back between her legs as I slid all the way inside her. She moaned and closed her eyes as I began to fuck her.

After a few seconds, I was slamming into her, the slapping of my stomach on her arm sending shivers down my spine. I wasn’t going to last long. I felt Rae come on my cock—not anywhere near as hard as she’d come on my wife’s tongue, but still, it felt amazing to be inside her and see her come run down my cock as she did so.

Rae suddenly reached behind her and put her hand against my stomach, stopping me as I was about to thrust into her again. She pulled my cock out of her cunt and dragged the condom off, throwing it away from her onto the floor. "I want to feel...you," she grunted.

Even more excited now, I rammed into her and felt my heart pumping from my rigid cock into Rae’s soaked cunt, the occasional shiver of her muscle contractions squeezing my shaft.

Exhausted, Rae lay back, speaking only to murmur, “My God, that’s so dirty." as Lizzie went down on her, slowly licking my come from Rae’s cunt, stopping to kiss me deeply every now and then, pushing some of it into my mouth. Rae came again, in a leisurely, comfortable way, not explosive but long-lasting and intense.

We lay on the bed, dozing in the late afternoon sunshine, with the balcony door open and sounds and smells drifting in from the holidaymakers below. Rae was between us, on her back, eyes closed, breathing heavy and docile.

After an hour or so, Rae said, “I’d better get back," but she didn’t sound at all like she wanted to leave.

Lizzie changed the subject: “Tell me about your family; who were all those people at your table?”

“Two older kids, boys, are mine. The elderly couple are Howard’s parents. The younger kids, three of them, belong to my sister, the dyed blonde with the loud laugh.”

Lizzie smiled. “I remember her."

“Everyone does," said Rae.

I examined Rae closely for the first time. She was not beautiful—a little plain, if anything. Flat chest and toned flat stomach, which obviously took some maintenance and some stretch marks. Her legs were shapely, her thighs a little dappled with cellulite, and she could do with a few days of lying in the sun. Her cunt hair was trimmed neatly; she razored herself no doubt. In short, she was amazing, and I’d never seen anything so erotic as at that moment, with the warm sunlight drifting over her body.

I looked at my wife, who was propped on her elbow, closely examining Rae too. She caught my eye and said, “Isn’t she perfect?”

I nodded, smiling. Rae opened her eyes. I was expecting her to protest—mock indignation, that kind of thing. Instead, they said simply, “Thank you."

“What did you tell your family?” Asked Lizzie.

“I said I was coming here for a spa treatment.”

Lizzie thought for a little while. “This is what we’ll do, Rae. You call Howard and tell him you bumped into an old college friend—you're local, right?" At this, Rae nodded. “Good, so it’s plausible—that might happen. Tell him you met Hazel—I'll be Hazel—and you’re going to dinner with her and might stay over if you have a drink. It’s been so many years, and it’s so good to see her.”

Rae considered this. “He knew me in college. Let’s say high school. He knew a lot of my friends there too, later in life. He might be suspicious.”

Lizzie giggled. “Rae – Howard does not sound like the suspicious type. Also, I’ll speak to him; well, Hazel will. It’ll be perfect, trust me. Do you want to?”

Rae nodded. “Oh yes, I want to.”

My cock was rocking hard again at the thought of having this wonderful creature stay with us for a whole night. I was absently stroking her erect nipple with the back of my hand, my cock gently pushing against her side.

“Ok, call him, and when I say to pass him over, just tell him Hazel wants to say hello."

Lizzie grabbed Rae’s phone from her handbag and passed it to her. Rae pressed a shortcut and put the phone on the pillow between her and Lizzie, who were looking at each other longingly.

Just as the call was answered, I put my hand on Rae’s and gently rolled her onto her side, facing Lizzie.

As a man’s voice said, “Hi, Rae, how’s it going? You on your way? Kids are starving apparently. I put my hand between Rae’s thighs and lifted, parting her legs, pulling her toward me. I slipped my cock into her still-soaking cunt, easily to the hilt, straight away.

Rae pushed back against me as I slowly fucked her, maintaining the same pace and being relentless, and still she talked to her husband.

Howard interrupted his own diatribe on whether to eat out or in the hotel and the various costs and problems associated with each option to ask, “Are you OK? You sound out of breath.”

“Fine, fine. After the spa, I finished off in the gym. Bit pooped.”

Our rhythm was perfect now, moving in complete sync with each other, me pulling almost all the way out as she moved away from me, then sliding all the way back in as she slowly pushed back. I was holding her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and it was like a little hard pebble.

Lizzie, watching Rae intently, nodded at her. Rae gave Howard the story: she bumped into Hazel, amazing really, hadn’t seen her in years, here on her own, having dinner, might even stay.

Howard was a bit indignant at this; most fussed, it seemed, over who was going to handle dinner arrangements. Rae suggested his mother could get involved for once, to which Howard agreed that “might work." Rae was keeping it together well for a woman with a cock inside her while on the phone to her husband, with only the slight whimper and tiny groan escaping, which Howard didn’t seem to notice at all.

As Rae had indicated, Howard was curious about this “Hazel” and was sure he’d known her from Rae’s circle of friends many years ago. He did a great job describing a completely fictional person and her life, and Rae agreed with some of it—those bits that sounded like they could even be true—letting him waffle on for minutes while a man she’d met a few days ago slid his hard cock into her again and again. As he was talking, Rae had absently put her arm up so she could stroke my face gently with her hand and nestled back into me so that our bodies were touching everywhere, her head laying back against my chest and my chin on top of her head.

I could see that Lizzie was going mad with desire watching this, and I could also see that it was desire for Rae.

“Hold on," breathed Rae. “Hazel is here; I’ll put her on.”

Lizzie took the phone and sat on a chair on the balcony, having first moved it so she could see clearly into the room to watch us.

"Hi, Howard?" said my wife. “It’s Hazel!”.

Lizzie went on to explain that she thought she’d moved away before she’d really gotten to know Howard, but they had met a few times and she was having such a great time with Rae, so would he be a total sweetheart and spare her for one night?

Howard, meanwhile, seemed completely comfortable with staying overnight; it was that he couldn’t recall what Hazel looked like that was bothering him.

“Let’s Facetime," said my wife excitedly.

Rae and I did not stop fucking, but we both twitched at this suggestion. This would need to be carefully orchestrated.

Howard agreed enthusiastically, and they switched to a video call. Lizzie had thrown on her bikini top but was still naked below, her legs draped open as she sat in the sunshine, out of shot, of course.

Howard was obviously impressed with Lizzie in her skimpy top and became suddenly solicitous and ingratiating—now he remembered her, of course! How could he forget?

Lizzie made sure she repeatedly moved the phone camera to give a good view of her chest and carried on discussing made-up events and people from long ago in a manner even I was finding convincing.

Rae had detected, of course, the slightly creepy change in her husband’s demeanor upon seeing Lizzie in her bikini, and her response was to push back even more firmly against my strokes.

“Say," said Howard, “you’re staying in a fancy room at the fancy hotel, right? I guess there is plenty of room for Rae then. Show me around; I’d like to see how the other half lives.”

Lizzie didn’t seem to hesitate at all. She said, “Sure! Here we go on the guided tour!" and stood with the phone in her hand.

This risk was really turning Rae on. My fingers sought her clitoral area, and I couldn’t believe how slick her cunt and thighs were. We started to fuck faster and harder, our breathing in complete alignment, as Lizzie entered the room.

There were two super-king-sized beds in our room, next to each other, and Lizzie stood between them, inches from Rae’s face, and turned on the camera.

Keeping the camera very carefully just above the height at which we could be seen, Lizzie swept slowly around in a 360-degree turn. She moved the camera slightly down as she turned to face the empty bed behind her, showing it to Howard but omitting the evidence of a second bed.

“One bed, eh?" said Howard, a funny little lascivious chuckle accompanying it. “Don’t you go corrupting my wife!”

Lizzie laughed good-naturedly and turned off the camera, placing the phone between her and Rae again on the pillow.

“Rae?" said Howard. "Are you there still?”

Rae said yes, she was still there, and as I felt my orgasm beginning to build, I started to fuck her harder, and she responded in kind, using her hips to shove herself back into me, wiggling to get every centimeter of my cock into her cunt.

“Ok, well, I guess we’ll see you tomorrow then. Don’t forget we’re doing that open garden thing with your sister, so you’ll need to be back at lunchtime. Great talking to you, Hazel! Have a fun night! Oh, hang on, I forgot, Hazel. You look just great in that bikini. Where did you get it?”

I was about to explode, and I could feel Rae starting to contract on my cock. I had my hand over her mouth, and she was licking gently at it with the tip of her tongue, but she obviously realized that wouldn’t be enough to mute her when she came. She looked helplessly at Lizzie, expecting her to hang up, fake a disconnect, or at least move the phone. Lizzie grinned and moved the device several inches closer to Rae.

Rae turned on her front, and I mounted her—my thighs splayed around her hips as I got as deep into her as I could. As I started to come, it was all I could do now—not to shout aloud, to say Rae’s name, anything for release. Rae was coming too, squirts escaping from her cunt with every contraction, soaking my cock, balls, thighs, and stomach.

Rae shouted what sounded like, "Oh... Fuck.. Mother Fucker!” into the pillow, her body shaking and her legs bending, her feet raised to touch my back as I emptied into her, rope after rope of my come filling her cunt.

Howard, seeming to hear something in our room, paused in his pervy conversation with Lizzie and, as if brought back to reality by the interruption, signed off for real and ended the call.

"What did you shout when you came, Rae?" asked Lizzie.

"I was just saying swear words that popped into my head—I don't really swear at home, and the only thing Howard thinks I would say when I orgasm is, "Yes, oh yes...""—so I thought I'd throw him off the scent.

Lizzie laughed out loud, dropped her bikini top to the floor, and, pushing me out of the way, fell to her knees behind Rae, her tongue seeking that open slit again. "Talking of scent," she said.

That night is an experience for the ages; it’s filed away deep in my consciousness and hard to describe in a way that will do it justice, but I will try in the next chapter.