My day job can be tough. It had been an exhausting day of negotiations, navigating language and cultural challenges. Overtired and overheated, I lay naked on crisp cotton sheets in the dark, thundery humidity of an Athens hotel room, yearning for the respite sleep. But Morpheus teased and continued to elude me.
Through the haze of fatigue and one or two glasses too many I became gradually aware that my phone was buzzing. It was a FaceTime call from my wife. I picked it up in a rush of anxiety, “Holly, it’s 3am here, what’s up?” I yawned involuntarily as if my body tried to emphasise the point.
Her smile melted briefly into a frown of puzzlement before rising warmly once more as realisation dawned, “Oh! Yes, sorry. You’re a couple of hours ahead there, aren’t you? Sorry darling.” I noticed a slight slur in her voice. “Nothing’s wrong.” A brief pause as she gazed at me, eyes hooded but twinkling, decorated with the wrinkles of a genuine smile. “I miss you.” She sighed, and blew a kiss.
“I miss you, too.” I pulled myself up to rest against the bed headboard and yawned again. “I’m trying—and failing—to get some sleep. Is there something urgent or can we talk in the morning?”
“Oh, very urgent!” Holly paused. “I really miss you.” Then with a melodramatic coquettish look and hushed tones, she added, “And I’m really, really horny.” She looked at me, suspiciously, then giggled, “I can see your hairy chest. Are you naked?”
“Yeah. It’s way too hot and sticky here. Storms are forecast.”
She fumbled with her phone, propping it up on something and moved back from the screen. I could see now that she was in our bedroom, sitting at the foot of the bed. Bathed in the low light of bedside lamps behind her and the lights around the dresser mirror in front her, I noted that she was wearing her favourite thin cotton, summer party dress. A jazz melody was playing softly in the background. “I know exactly what you mean,” she whispered. “I’m feeling quite hot and bothered, too.” I watched quietly and smiled as she brushed the straps of her dress from her shoulders and reached behind, a little clumsily, to pull a zip down between her shoulder blades. She looked down at her chest then fixed me with a playful, sultry pout and stare. The jazz sax spiralled as she shimmied her shoulders and the top of the dress fell away to reveal swaying, bare breasts. Holly smiled at my astonishment and giggled again.
“But, but you always wear a bra!” My manhood was already stirring at the sight of my gorgeously sexy, topless wife.
“It’s been hot here, too.”
I noticed residues of mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick. “You’re dressed up, or you were until just then. Where have you been this evening?”
“Next door. Sandra and Tony had some friends round. Sandra said it wasn’t fair for them to be partying knowing I was alone and invited me to join them for a bit of company.”
“Ah. So you’ve had a few glasses of wine, I suppose. Was it a good night?”
Holly looked aside for a moment, thoughtfully, “Yes, they’re wonderful hosts. We got along just fine. Just a quiet soirée, it’s too hot to dance.” She gave me the look again, “But it made me miss you all the more…” She sighed, closing her eyes dreamily, a finger idly circling her right nipple. “I *so* want to be with you, to feel you skin-on-skin, to wrap myself around you…” She seemed lost in the moment, then looked at me with sleepily hooded eyes again and, raising herself on unsteady legs she reached down to peel the dress slowly up over her head. She finished with a flourish, adopting a melodramatic, modest modelling pose, knees together, one hand covering her crotch, her other arm raised like a ballet dancer.
I gasped in genuine shock at the implication of what I was seeing. “You went to their party in only that dress, without any underwear?” This was so out of character, way beyond all personal boundaries she’d set in stone with me.
“Of course not, silly!” She chuckled. “I wore makeup and shoes, too!” She laughed at my reaction, a filthy, sexy, tipsy laugh. Holly’s hazel eyes shone brightly in the lamplight. Her skin glistened with perspiration as she reached behind her head to tie her cascading auburn hair up in a bun, pinning it in place with something from the dresser.
“Wow!” I was lost for words. I could only imagine the stares she attracted from other guests with her free-swaying 36DDs and those fabulously long, sexy legs presented beneath the thin, mid-thigh dress, her pert arse and shapely calves lifted on 2 inch strappy sandal heels. I felt a pang of jealousy that I’d not been there to see those envious glances; the wolves undressing her with their eyes; the after-party intimate time we’d spend together in bed talking about her admirers… I had to ask: “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my beautifully shy, timid wife Holly?”
“I’m right here, darling,” she announced with a tipsy slur and a smile.
My loins were certainly stirring now as Holly flopped back onto the edge of the bed, with the sexiest smile. She leaned back, propped on her elbows. Watching me intently she spread her thighs and reached forward to run her long, pianist fingers of her left hand through her trimmed, soft pussy fur while her right caressed her breast and teasingly tugged on her nipple. “Get your hard cock in your hand, darling. I want to watch you wank it for me.” I grabbed a couple of pillows and used them to prop the phone next to me on the bed so that I could watch her ‘hands free’ and see to my own needs. She could see me head to knees in her view. Holly grinned and sighed, plunging her fingers into herself and pumping them briskly with a wet, sloppy sound as I massaged and edged my erection. Then suddenly she withdrew her fingers to frantically frig her clit, sensational intensity contorting her face until her whole body heaved and convulsed, legs flailing, gasping and moaning through a wild orgasm.
I almost lost it but managed to hold back at the precipice, hoping for more time with her. This behaviour was unheard of, so astonishingly out of character for my prim and proper, conservative wife to expose herself on a video call like this. I honestly thought I must have already fallen asleep and been dreaming. This was the relaxed attitude to sexy private play that I’d always hoped for on my many business trips away from home.
We both lay, breathless and recovering in our bedrooms thousands of miles and two time zones apart. The frustration was unbearable: This was the moment where we yearned to fall upon each other with long, sensuous foreplay and slow, gentle lovemaking that would evolve in crescendo until we were both sated.
Holly was giggling again. She propped herself up on elbows again, still a little breathless, then slowly sat up and reached forward past the phone camera and sat back with a full wine glass in her hand. She took a hefty gulp. “Now John,” she began, “a few days ago, Sandra told me you’d been a naughty boy.” My sleep-deprived, Savatiano-fogged brain heard the words but didn’t really register their meaning. “She was telling me that when she was chatting with you over the garden fence last week that you kept looking at her breasts.” Holly fixed me with a ‘caught you’ look and hiccupped. “So, she said, she went inside and slipped her bra off from under her tee-shirt and told Tony to watch you as she went back out to do a bit of weeding. He told her that he saw you staring at her as she moved around their garden!”
This was probably true. “Not intentionally, I’m sure,” I began. “Well, when something moves and catches your eye, you look, don’t you? That’s nature.”
Holly smiled. “Yeah, you’re right.” She paused. “But watching her going around her garden for 10 minutes straight isn’t exactly unintentional, eh?”
My heart skipped a beat. Maybe I had been betrayed by my limbic brain without realising it. I couldn’t recall. Damn this listless fatigue!
“It’s okay John, I don’t mind. I’m quite flattered.”
Sandra’s voice! What the fuck?!?
Her curvy, Rubenesque form slid into shot and sat casually next to Holly on the bed. At least ten years older than Holly, Sandra wore her thick, dark brunette hair with greying roots in a ponytail. She grinned broadly and looked down to her chest. Her breasts (much larger than Holly’s) were barely restrained in a tight, black, leather-look crop top top that exposed a little midriff roll above a matching black mid-thigh skirt. “By the way, John, nice to see, er, so much of you,” She and Holly giggled. “You have a lovely cock!”
Sandra continued, matter-of-factly, “Sorry, I know that this is a bit of a shock, but when Holly said she was going to call you tonight I asked if I could join you.” They giggled again, and I witnessed a brief moment where they looked into each other’s eyes… I was shocked by what appeared to pass between them: a gaze of tenderness; an understanding of something they shared in that moment; a savouring of the actuality of each other. There was such reciprocated affection in that look that for an instant I had an urge to be there, to throw myself between them, to shield Holly from Sandra and tell Sandra to fuck off. But those thoughts instantly evaporated like raindrops on a sun-baked Athens street when they leaned in and kissed—not an air-kiss or friendly peck on the cheek, this was deep and lustful tongue-tangling. My emotions instantly boiled: jealousy that someone was kissing my wife with such passion, yet sexually aroused at the thought of what this meant… They parted, both smiling, and looked back to me. “You did know that your wife is bisexual, didn’t you John?” Sandra prompted with a wry smile. She and Holly laughed at my shocked speechlessness. Sandra nodded to Holly and raised her arms. Turning to face me she announced, “Think of this as a late birthday present for you, or something like that!” She smiled and blew a kiss. Holly unzipped the back of Sandra’s top and slowly peeled it up and over her head, releasing bouncing breasts that I’d imagined but never glimpsed before. They were heavy and saggy with large, dark brown, puffy areola. Sandra shimmied her shoulders to jiggle them. Holly shuffled back onto the bed to kneel behind Sandra, reaching around her to caress her flesh. She pinch-held Sandra’s nipples and pulled her breasts up by them up to sway them. Sandra closed here eyes and groaned, clearly enjoying the stretched-nipple sensation.
Holly looked directly at me, “What do you think, darling? Isn’t she gorgeous?”
“You’re both stunning!” Was the only thing I could think of to say, my foggy brain resorting to trite cliches.
Sandra opened her eyes, a little breathless. “Is this how you imagined them to be, John? Come on, show me that nice cock of yours! Show me how you play with it.”
Holly chipped in, “Go on, John, I know you need to. I don’t mind.” She leaned in and propped her chin on Sandra’s shoulder, turning toward her ear a little and in a stage whisper said, “Let’s see if he cums before we do!” She let go of Sandra’s breasts and Sandra stood, turning her back to me. She unzipped and pulled the waist of her skirt down to expose her wide-hipped round arse before climbing onto the bed with Holly. They arranged themselves on the bed in a 69: Sandra lay on her back with her legs over the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs to reveal her already moist, hairy pussy to me; Holly climbed over her facing me and planted her pussy on Sandra’s face. She gasped and closed her eyes in ecstasy, “Oh my God! Oh! Oh John, Sandra has a magical tongue…” Her eyes flew open with a look of surprise and a sharp, held inhale. Then, gasping, “Oh Jeez! She’s fingering me and nibbling my clit, John! Oh God! How am I supposed to..?”
Breathless, Holly lowered her top half down onto Sandra, deliberately brushing the nipples of her pendulous breasts over Sandra’s tummy. Sandra spread her thighs wider and moaned when Holly reached forward and gently peeled Sandra’s pussy lips wide apart, pulling back the fleshy hood to expose her engorged clitoris. For the first time in my life I watched my wife kiss and lick the clitoris of another woman! Sandra moaned again. Holly looked up at me. “Look, John, look at how wet Sandra is!” She dipped three fingers into Sandra and pumped them a couple of times before pulling them out and sucking them deep into her mouth with a ‘Hmfffmmmm’ of pleasure. “Oh! She tastes so sweet, John!” Suddenly, Holly flopped forwards, shaking and gasping. “No!” She hissed, “Not yet! Too soon!” She rolled off of Sandra giggling breathlessly, occasional tremors pulsing through her body.
Sandra lowered herself onto the floor on all fours and crawled over to the phone on the dresser to move its position slightly to one side to adjust my view. Returning to the foot of the bed and kneeling on the floor she prompted Holly to turn and lay on her back with her legs over the edge of the bed again. Grinning, Sandra said, “This is something Holly really likes.” Placing her left thumb to gently lift the fleshy hood to expose Holly’s clit, she pushed two middle fingers of her right hand into Holly’s pussy in a slow pumping motion. Holly began panting loudly. Sandra pressed a third finger inside and after a couple more pumps pressed a fourth in firmly. Sandra continued pumping slowly at first, then faster and deeper so that the palm of her hand was slapping Holly’s spread labia and exposed clit.
Holly moaned loudly, “Oh yes! Oh Sandra! Fuck me! Fuck meeeeee!” Those cries of another’s name triggered another dizzying eddy of turbulent emotions as I watched my wife swiftly brought to orgasm by someone else. Sandra was persistent and rough. Holly was screeching now, “Oh! Oh God! Oh fuck!” She gasped and thrashed, legs flailing through another intense orgasm, juices squirting and splashing over Sandra and the floor.
Sandra whooped, turning toward me to show Holly’s juices cascading and dripping over her face and breasts. “See that John? Did you know your wife’s a squirter?” A deep pang of painful inadequacy pressed hard inside my chest. That had never happened when Holly and I had made love. “Now you know why Holly likes to pop in for ‘a coffee and a chat!’” She gloated, lifting each of her breasts in turn to gleefully and noisily lick Holly’s mess from them.
Sandra reached forward and lifted two wine glasses from the dresser somewhere behind the phone, handing one to Holly. Both were swiftly drained before Sandra looked up out of shot, smiling and placed them somewhere else. That had me puzzled. Then she stood and moved to sit next to Holly on the bed.
Recovering from her ebbing climax, Holly lifted herself up onto her elbows again, still breathless and giggling with Sandra. “So, darling, what do you think? See what happens when I get horny and you’re not here to help me?”
“How long have you two been fuck buddies?” I asked, voice croaking.
“Not long, only a couple of days,” Holly began, smiling at Sandra in her orgasmic afterglow, “It was when Sandra came round to tell me about your wandering eyes. She got the ‘girls’ out to show me what the fuss was about and asked me if I liked them…” Holly paused, sitting up and reaching around to cup, caress and lick Sandra’s left breast, “and the rest, as they say, is history.” She stopped and looked concerned at my silence. “You don’t mind, do you darling?”
I sighed, confused, thoughts and feelings completely messed up. “I don’t know….”
“It’s only sex,” Sandra interjected, “we’re not in love or anything. We’re just passing time and having fun making each other feel nice when you’re not around to ‘scratch Holly’s itch’.”
And yet… Holly was looking at Sandra a little crestfallen. She turned her gaze back to me. “Look, darling, you *have* been a bit of a naughty boy, haven’t you?”
“I suppose so. Like I say, not intentionally, but…”
“But ‘nature’, as you put it, lured your eyes to another woman, right?”
“As you say, that’s just ‘nature’. It can’t be helped. I’m disappointed, but I’m not mad at you.”
“Okay…” I could sense this was leading somewhere.
Holly looked thoughtful for a moment as if searching for the right words. “So if I were to be distracted by ‘nature’ like this,” she wrapped her arms around Sandra’s shoulders, “then you might be disappointed—or maybe excited, I don’t know—but for the same reasons I’m hoping that you’re not mad at me.” She paused, looking at me intently, albeit tipsily. “Are you mad at me for playing with Sandra?”
I sighed, ripples of mixed feelings gently rocking my mind in different directions. “I can’t be mad at you. I love you, Holly.”
Holly’s face brightened “Thank you, darling!” And she kissed Sandra. There was a pause, then, as Sandra and Holly looked at each other conspiratorially for a moment, then back to me. And yet, although Holly looked in my direction, her eyes wandered… “So let’s put the record straight,” she began, slowly. “Sandra flashing her breasts at me isn’t the thing that ‘nature’ drew my attention to, although she is gorgeous!” They giggled and kissed again. “She told me all about you ogling these,” Holly was absent-mindedly caressing Sandra’s breasts as she continued, “and how she was flattered and happy that you clearly liked looking. So I confessed to my own stray gaze…” She paused, biting her bottom lip apprehensively. Then it all came tumbling out. “It was Tony. I know, I know, I’ve often said I don’t like shaved heads and he’s a little overweight but… But… But being a builder he’s still pretty ripped and the bulge in his trousers has always been intriguing…”
There was a long pause, then. They watched, intently, waiting for my reaction to Holly’s confession. It took me a moment to process her words. Suddenly everything became stark and blatant, hard-edged, angled. My heart pounded in horror. Jealousy, rage and grief crashed upon me like an oceanic storm surge. Yet I had to hear Holly out. This was my wife. My love. The very centre of my life. And she was confessing lust for another man.
Sandra chipped in, “I’ve been sharing my body with Holly, but I didn’t dare tell Tony that Holly fancied him. At least, he didn’t know until tonight when Holly’s wine-loosened lips let him know about it.” They both laughed loudly.
Sandra looked out of shot and raised her hand in a beckoning way. My mood and emotions sunk to dark, ocean-trench depths as Tony swaggered slowly into view. He leaned in to Sandra and they kissed passionately, his wandering hands roughly groping both of her breasts as he did so. Sandra’s muffled moans of approval emerged around their locked mouths.
Tony broke the kiss and sat on the bed on Sandra’s right, Holly still on her left. “Alright John? ‘Ow’s Athens?” He asked in his south east London accent. He grinned like the cat with the cream, his bright white teeth glowing in contrast to his dark Arab skin tone.
With a gut-wrenching inevitability, I could see where this was heading now. This man—our neighbour—had been sitting in our bedroom at home watching my tipsy wife strip naked, fully exposing her femininity to him; she’d played with herself to orgasm with him sitting there, watching quietly; he probably wanked himself as he watched Holly with his wife, frigging each other to orgasm. Whatever happened next, there were no interventions, no consequences at least until I was back home. From here on I was a helpless spectator. My stomach knotted as tight as my fists.
“Athens? It’s hot and thundery here,” I began in monotone, trying to hide the extremes of emotion churning through me. “But I think where you are is much hotter for you.”
Tony chuckled. “Too right, mate. ‘Olly’s smashing. Lovely bit of pussy.” He was looking her up and down, grinning with incredulity. “Never thought I’d get to see your wife strip naked and put on a show like that for me, not in my wildest dreams.” The grin melted into an arrogant leer. “She’s got gorgeous tits and a lovely tight bum.” He turned back to me, “I ‘ad no idea these two have been fiddling with each other ’til they told me at the party just now.”
“And I suppose you’re there to show Holly what she’s been wondering about?”
“Well, it’s only fair innit? Sandra’s shown you ‘er tits that you were drooling over. Gotta satisfy ‘Olly’s curiosity in return.” He turned to Sandra. “Seems only reasonable, don’cha think?” Sandra smiled, nodded and snuggled into Tony’s shoulder, wrapping her arm around his hefty bicep.
Holly looked both excited and apprehensive. I saw something in her eyes I’d not seen before; the finding of a possibility, perhaps. Slurring a little she said, “Darling, we talked about this at the party: We agreed that Sandra would strip off for you so you get to see everything you’d been thinking about, and if Tony got to see me naked, he would show me what he’s got, too.”
“An’ a deal’s a deal!” Tony announced, shrugging Sandra off and swiftly pulling his part-unbuttoned casual shirt up and over his head. I heard Holly’s sharp intake of breath behind her excited smile. Without ceremony or style, Tony stood and unbuckled his jeans, pulling them off his legs to stand tall in his bulging boxers. Holly was right. He was pretty ripped with great muscle definition, albeit with a pronounced beer belly overhang. Sandra clapped and whooped excitedly then, casually, leaned back on the bed and began to tug on a nipple with one hand while the other massaged around her clit.
Tony grinned at me with a look that said, ‘You’re there and I’m here in your bedroom with your naked wife and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me!’ I had the irresistible urge to smash him in the face. He turned toward Holly. “How about… You kneel in front of me and help me out of these. You’ll find what you’ve been curious about inside.”
Nervously, Holly slid off the end of the bed, kneeling in front of Tony as instructed and paused, glancing up at his smile, but staring at his bulging crotch. Tentatively she reached up to the waistband of his boxers and paused. She turned to look at me. “I love you John. Please remember that.” Returning her attention to Tony she slowly peeled his boxers down. His released nine inches sprang stiffly to attention, thick, tall and wrapped in coarse veins with a pronounced curve to the right.
“I take it your’e right-handed wanker then, Tony?” I jibed. He laughed. But his eyes never left Holly’s. No doubt he was noticing, as I did, the hunger in her eyes, her nipples bristling with arousal.
“It’s okay, touch it. It won’t bite,” he reassured her, softly. Holly reached up tentatively and touched the glans with the tip of her finger, slowly tracing a line down to his balls. “Hmmmm. Love your touch.” He closed his eyes as Holly hefted his ball sack in her cupped hands then ran her hands up to wrap them around his erection, slowly wanking him. Her fingers encircled his girth but finger and thumb tips unable to meet and touch; he was as thick as her wrist.
That was it: My wife with her hands around another man’s cock. Another threshold crumbled. Another deep, sharp stab of jealousy and anger.
Sandra slid off the bed and crouched behind Holly, reaching around to lift and caress Holly’s breasts, teasing their hot, hard nipples. Holly gasped. “It’s okay,” cooed Sandra, “lick him. Show us how you tease John with your tongue!”
But it wasn’t me feeling her gorgeous tongue. My heart ached as I watched my wife’s tongue touch another man’s cock and heard her sigh of satisfaction. From base to tip her doggy tongue lapped in long skilful passes. My stomach churned each time her tongue passed over the tip. Holly turned to me, grinning with an expression of child-like excitement, “Oh John! He tastes so different to you! He’s smooth and hot like you, but the flavour is so different!” She stroked him from ball to tip, letting her nails scratch and grate. Her fabulously long, writhing tongue wrapped and curled—for my benefit as much as his.
Then something happened. Perhaps it was a primal flood of hormones triggered by the combination of this stranger’s cock on her tongue and Sandras caressing of breasts and teasing of sensitive nipples, but Holly’s mood changed like the swift arrival of a gusting downdraft and darkening skies ahead of an approaching storm. Suddenly I saw a fiery hunger in Holly’s eyes, a desperation to please and to satisfy a craving. She stretched her mouth open wide and plunged onto his cock. She turned her head slightly and fixed me with a sultry gaze over her noisy, sloppy, messy gobbling and sucking as if to say ‘Look John! Ever think you’d watch me do this to another man? Does it turn you on?’
Sandra laid her hand to the back of Holly’s head and pushed, forcing Tony’s cock deeper! Holly gagged and pulled back, gasping. I felt a burst of hope that this would be the shock, the step too far that would bring her to her senses and realise the significance of what she was doing; that she’d call a stop before things went any further… As Holly slowly recovered her breathing, she glanced back to me with hooded eyes and a selfish, defiant smirk. Any hope I had was instantly crushed in that moment. Tony’s length vanished into her mouth once more. She had taken it deep, surely right into her throat for it disappear so completely. She’d never tried to do that with me. Momentarily his cock re-emerged. Holly gasped for breath, eye-watering tears and saliva streaming over her face, neck and Tony’s crotch, only for her to return and make it vanish again. Where the hell had this submissive depravity come from? The horror of watching her enduring this gag reflex discomfort to please another man was unbearable. The recollection echoed in my mind: ‘Who are you and what have you done with done with my beautifully shy, timid wife Holly?’
Tony’s fingers ruffled through Holly’s hair, disrupting the neatly arranged bun until it collapsed and cascaded around her, clinging to her sweat-and-saliva-soaked face and neck. His expression at this point was testament to Holly’s skill. He turned to me with an ecstatic smile, “Fuckin’ ‘ell, John! She gives an awesome blowjob! Jeeez! You lucky, fuckin’ bastard!” Holly was going all out to please him—but I could also see just how much pleasure she had in tasting him, how having such hot, meaty bulk between her lips and across her tongue was pleasure enough in itself.
More wet, squelching sounds. Sandra’s right hand was moving rapidly under Holly, clearly fingering her deeply. Sandra looked at Tony, grinning. “She’s ready for you, hon.”
Tony gasped. “Thank Christ, I can’t ‘old on much longer!” He stepped back from Holly then bent forward to casually scoop her up into his arms as if she was light as a feather, biceps bulging as he turned toward the bed.
Sandra grabbed the phone on the dresser and suddenly all I could see was her excited face. “So John, are you enjoying the show?”
“Fuck off, Sandra.”
“Awww. Don’t be like that. All it took was a couple of bottles of strong red to lower her inhibitions enough and now look at her! You know we’re heading for the big finale, right? The bit where your wife ignores your marriage vows and gives herself to my husband?” I groaned. Sandra chuckled with satisfaction at my discomfort. “Look, she’s gagging for it, and you’re not here, so…” Sandra cackled, clearly delighted at the success of their premeditated plan. “Aren’t you one of those blokes that secretly longs to see his wife fucked by another man? Come on, John, I’m going to give you the best seat in the house, look!” She moved the phone to arms length. “Here’s my gorgeous 34FF tits and big, puffy nipples that you stared at under my tee shirt and dreamed about!” She shimmied her shoulders to jiggle them provocatively, then lifted one to draw the nipple into her mouth, licking and sucking noisily. Moving the camera lower, in a mocking tone she continued, “And here’s my cunt that, let’s be honest, you really, really want to fuck. Isn’t that right, John?” She, Tony and Holly laughed as if that was the best joke ever.
The lurching movements and shuffling slowed. Tony must have been holding the phone now, showing that Sandra was kneeling astride Holly on our bed, poised over Holly’s face and facing her legs. She raised her arms and smiled dramatically with a “Ta-daaaa!” And provocatively shook her huge, saggy breasts; Sandra’s shins were pinning Holly’s upper arms to the bed. Tony passed the phone to her and she lowered herself, bringing the phone camera in close as she splayed her pussy lips and planted herself onto Holly’s giggling mouth. There was a brief glimpse of Holly’s tongue eagerly stretching to meet Sandra’s approaching swollen, dripping labia. “So… Hmmmmmm… I’m sitting on her face and your wife is… Ohhhhhhhhh… Lashing me with her tongue right now.” She turned the phone. “Now here’s Tony. He’s been saving himself up all evening for this, haven’t you, hon?”
Tony stood at the foot of the bed with the broadest grin. In barely controlled primal lust he swiftly leaned in and descended on Holly like a pouncing predator. His mouth and strong, calloused builder’s hands were flesh-greedy, kissing and nibbling her neck and down to her breasts, then maniacally turning from one to the other in a frenzied mauling; groping, slobbering and sucking; gorging himself on this forbidden fruit. Holly’s back arched as she writhed in response to his touch, craving more; her muffled moans and groans of carnal pleasure from this crude assault on her body ripped into my soul. Suddenly Tony slowed and stepped back, sated, to survey his next approach. In the low light I could see the marks of his conquest; Holly’s bullet-hard nipples signalling the intensity of her arousal; the saliva-soaked angry, red bite marks on her neck and several on each breast that would later bruise, marking Holly as part of his hareem. These visible brands would endure for many days to come reminding us both of that night, of his conquest, of his carnal claim of ownership of her flesh.
The view was pitching and rolling slightly in time with Sandra’s panting and low moans. She was grinding her pussy into Holly’s face, pleasuring herself on my wife’s new oral skills.
Sandra slowed and moved the phone camera to frame Tony standing at the foot of the bed between Holly’s wide-spread legs—her clear invitation to him. He was grinning broadly as he looked directly at me, slowly wanking his nine inches. “Are you watchin’, John? This is a dream come true! I’m gonna fuck your wife’s married cunt! My balls are aching for this.” He chuckled. “I know you don’t ‘ave kids, John, but I ‘ope she’s on the pill, ’cause if not… Well..! I ‘ope you don’t mind little brown babies like me ’cause this fuckin’ bull’s gonna breed!”
“NO!” I sobbed…
“Oh and by the way,” he continued, “it’s only fair that if you fancy taking Sandra for a ride when you’re back from Athens, be my guest. I’m sure you’ll like my wife’s cunt as much as you’ve lusted after ‘er tits, you bad lad!” He and Sandra laughed aloud as he stepped forward. Sandra held the camera over Holly’s puffy, aroused labia soaked with juices of anticipation. My raging anger and jealousy crescendoed, heart pounding and blood roaring in my ears. I needed to tear my eyes away, yet something compelled me to watch. Tony held his cock poised on Holly’s outer lips. “Are you watchin’ John? This is the point of no return… Juuust tickling ‘er lips with my big Arab cock… One little push an’ your gorgeous wife becomes my fuckin’ whore! Ready?” He chuckled. “Did you grab it, San?” The view wobbled as Tony took something offered by Sandra. “Remember the day you put this on ‘Olly’s finger?” He held it up to show me her unmistakable gold wedding ring. “Well, this is a little trick I like to do just to make clear that wedding vows mean nothin’ when I’m around!” He held it over the tip of his cock. Slowly, as if to prolong my torture, he began to press those nine curved inches all the way in, burying my wife’s wedding ring deep into her pussy. I heard a long, muffled groan from Holly underneath Sandra; watched Holly’s hips writhe and wriggle in response to his invading bulk, force-stretching her flesh apart to new extremes. As he pushed deeply to the hilt, their pubic bones pressed together, her moan pitched higher into a breathless, gasping whimper, her whole body shaking and convulsing.
“Ohhhhhhhh……” Tony exclaimed. “Ohhh… She just squirted all over me! Just by pushin’ inside! ‘As ‘Olly ever orgasmed like that when you first dip your wick, John?” He gasped. “Fuck she’s tight! Hot, wet, but very, very tight.” He chuckled again. “Oh this is such a sweet dream! So hard to believe that I’ve actually got my big, bare, ‘ard cock deep in your wife’s hot, wet cunt!” Sandra laughed as he slowly withdrew. “There you go, John, now you’ve seen a nice big, brown cock slick with your wife’s cunt juices! Some blokes pay Niggers good money to fuck their wives for them like this.” He pressed in again, a little faster this time, with a deep sigh of satisfaction and another long groan from Holly. “Ohhh… But this one’s on the ‘ouse, you might say.” He exhaled loudly, “FUCK! I’m so deep that I can feel my cock pushing past ‘er cervix! Oh Jeez I can’t wait to empty my balls into ‘er!”
The scene pitched sideways as Sandra moved, leaning, stretching her arms and wobbling, to put the camera down. From the new view it appeared that I was watching from the bedside table: Holly had completely given herself up to them both: Sandra was leaning forward over Holly with heavy breasts swaying as she humped, grinding her pussy onto Holly’s face.
Tony looked toward me. “Sorry, mate, she’s gonna be walkin’ a bit funny when you get ‘ome after I’ve finished wiv’ ‘er!” With that he lunged against Holly with his entire body weight to lend his thrust irresistible momentum and began pounding into her. A dense, winded, grunt escaped her each time her pussy was filled, his beer belly sickeningly wobbling and slapping onto her inner thighs and crotch. Holly’s sex-sounds become obscene, almost the calls and bleats of an animal. In an adrenaline-rush of horror, I watched Holly as she raised her legs high and wrapped them around her assailant, urging Tony deeper inside her with heels-as-spurs in the small of his back.
Excited by the sight of her husband pounding into my wife and immersed in the sensations of Holly’s oral attack on her pussy, Sandra began gasping and moaning, trembling as a wave of orgasm rippled through her body. She lifted herself back onto the bed on her haunches to recover, revealing Holly’s drenched, gasping and grunting face. Tony leaned in to cover Holly’s limp body, wrapping her in his arms possessively beneath his heaving bulk. His long tongue emerged and began to explore, slurping and lapping Sandra’s secretions from Holly’s face like an old hound slobbering over a butcher’s bone. It was nauseating.
Sandra grabbed the phone again. “Liking what you see, John?” She grinned, still a little breathless. She turned the phone back to Tony’s assault on my wife. “Look at him go! Wow! He’s really giving it to her – forcing his lovely big, meaty cock deep in her cunt. And she’s loving it, listen!” Holly’s distressed cries of satisfaction betrayed the sensations of barely endured pleasure his engorged cock brought her as he rhythmically barged deep into her. “You know,” she continued, “I didn’t marry him for his wit and intelligence; I just wanted more of this!” The phone turned to her sneering grin again. “So let’s get one thing clear. After tonight, she will crave more. Just like I did. I don’t mind sharing, ’cause it means I get more of her too. So get real. This is just the start. We *will be* fucking together more. And often. So get her on the pill, else he’ll knock her up, okay?” I saw Sandra flinch, then. “Look what she’s done to my pussy, I’m raw!” The view changed again and Sandra’s gaping hole with angry red swollen labia, dripping wet, filled the screen. “Sorry, we’re making a real mess of your bed linen. I’ll wash it before you get home, don’t worry!” She put the phone back on the bedside table so that I could see the whole scene again.
An impish grin spread over Tony’s face. “You know what? Maybe we should really mess the sheets up!”
Sandra howled with laughter, then looked apprehensive. “Maybe that’s going a bit too far, hon.”
Tony’s expression changed to an evil leer. “In for a penny… And I’m super slicked—’er cunt’s soaking me.” He pulled out and casually lifted and flipped Holly over onto her front, pulling her waist to the edge of the bed with her legs hanging. She was floppy as a rag doll, marathon-weary, breathing heavily between muffled moans. He leaned forward, angling his hips between her legs spread over the edge of the bed.
The view pitched and rolled again until the phone was perhaps propped on a pillow pointing at Holly’s exhausted face. I could see Tony slowly moving in the background. Holly lifted herself up on her elbows, smiling wearily at me. Her eyeliner, mascara and lipstick were smeared and streaked, her hair clung to her sweat-saturated face and neck.
Suddenly her weary grin disappeared: “Ohhhh!!!! No! No! Not there!” Holly gasped looking horrified.
Then Sandra’s soothing voice. “Relax. This is going to feel amazing!”
“Ow! Ohhhh! No! It hurts! Stop!” Holly’s face was panicky, contorted.
“Let yourself go floppy. The weirdness will pass in a moment. Trust me!”
“OW! OW! OW! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” A long exhale became an animal-like deep, guttural growl. Holly’s face combination of relief and total shock. Her eyes rolled, face dropping forward onto the bed sheet.
Tony chuckled. “Pass me the phone, San!” Another dizzying tumbling view which steadied showing Tony’s pubic hair snug against Holly’s arse cheeks. “Look, John!” He slowly withdrew. My gut tied in knots as I saw what he’d done. “Your wife’s got my nine inches of meat deep in ‘er arse!” As he slowly pulled back her anal passage was red raw, stretched around his shit-slicked girth.
“You fucking bastard!” I sobbed.
“This is what ‘appens when someone messes with my missus!” He growled, menacingly, as he pressed slowly into her again. I heard Holly’s muffled whimper turn into another growl. “Oh Jeez! John! ‘Er arse is so fuckin’ tight! So hot! You ‘ave to try this when you’re ‘ome!” He handed the phone back to Sandra and she placed it back on the bedside table for a wider view. Tony grabbed Holly’s wrists, “Up you come, ‘Olly!” He announced and pulled her arms back like reins, forcing her back and up to half stand, leaning forward on wobbling legs while he held her impaled in his cock buried deep inside. He started thrusting again. Holly’s face was a mixture of shock, pain and extreme pleasure, her eyes wide and rolling, grunts, growls and screeches punctuating the air in rhythm to his thrusting.
Sandra crawled forward and sat on the end of the bed, reaching forward to pinch-hold Holly’s nipples and pull them taut against their swaying momentum. Holly squealed, “OH… GOD… YES..!” Her eyes fixed on Sandra with a grimacing smile of determination in the face of intense erogenous overload.
Sandra glanced back to me, grinning, “So what do you think, cuck?” Sandra asked. “Your shy wife’s new life: stripped naked and whoring with Tony and me!” She laughed arrogantly. “Ever think you’d watch Holly be such a deliciously filthy slut taking another man’s cock up the shitter? Listen to her, John, she fucking loves this!”
As he rammed into her from behind I saw a glint of gold fall from her pussy toward the floor as if her body had casually discarded it…
Breathless and tiring, Tony lowered Holly back onto the bed, face down, Sandra moving to the side to watch. He began lunging into her with his full body weight. He held Holly steady, her arms pinned close to her sides, yet the force of his onslaught lifted her buttocks each time he impaled her on his full length. His gross beer belly hefted, rippling and slapping down onto her arse. Between grunts Holly was shrieking “Oh GOD… Oh FU..UCKKKK…”
Sandra taunted, “Maybe when you’re home you and Tony can DP her, you know, him filling her cunt and gobbling on her tits while you fuck her arse. What do you think?”
Tony paused, panting, clearly exhausted. “Fuck it’s hot! Can we open the windows wider, San?” He slowly withdrew and wiped his messy cock on the sheet, then scooped Holly up into his arms, his powerful, erection swaying. He turned Holly toward him then gently laid her back on the bed. He stood over her, smiling and slowly wanking. “I need to empty my balls. Where do you want it?”
Holly sat up, biting her lip again and looked around. Finding the phone, she looked toward me. “John, are you still there?” I didn’t answer, too choked. “I love you so much, darling.” She turned to Tony, whispering “Cum inside me.”
“Are you sure?”
A long pause. Holly glanced toward me again. A quiet “Yes.”
Sandra piped up, “Tell John what you want, Holly.”
“Fuck me” she said tentatively, the enormity of what she was asking for now weighing on her.
“Didn’t ‘ear you,” Tony taunted. “What d’you want?”
Holly looked determinedly at Tony, eyes full of lust as she declared in a stronger voice, “I want you to fuck me and cum inside me.”
My heart broke.
Tony replied to Holly, but looked at me on the phone as he said, “Darlin’, it’ll be my pleasure!”
Holly turned and moved onto her hands and knees, playfully wiggling her arse at Tony. Tony positioned himself on the bed behind Holly’s arse, rubbing his cock across her pussy lips, then slowly pushed in. Holly let out a long, low moan, legs trembling. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, John! She just squirted all over me again!” He pulled out. “Well, since you’ve slicked me up let’s ‘ave some more of that lovely tight arse of yours!” With that, he carelessly plunged into her and began pounding.
Holly’s sounds were primal: She was grunting and yelping as another man ploughed his bestial cock into her arse. Sandra reached underneath, tugging the nipples of her swaying breasts.
Tony turned toward me with an expression of fierce determination and an arrogant grin that poured fuel on my already incandescent hatred. “Are you enjoyin’ watchin’ me fuck your wife, John? Are you wankin’ that little cock of yours? How does it feel to see me bangin’ my dick up ‘er shitter?” He chuckled. “What about…” He paused, withdrew and repositioned and drove deep into her pussy. “What about now? My big, bare, shit-slicked Arab cock slamming deep into ‘Olly’s cunt?” He laughed and continued, breathlessly, “I doubt you’ve ever filled ‘er this deep, ‘ave you?” He paused and pressed slowly, deeper. Holly growled and then began to gasp, tossing her head. “See? I can reach parts of ‘er you never ‘ave. An’ she fuckin’ LOVES it!”
Sandra cackled, leapt from the bed and I heard the familiar rattle of curtain rings as they were swept back, filling the room with the glow of light cast from street lamps. “Let’s give the neighbours a show. If they wake from all this noise they can watch us fucking your slutty, whoring wife! Wonder if it’ll be a turn-on or them, too? What d’ya reckon, John?”
With that Tony crouched over Holly and jackhammered into her, deep, hard and fast. He was vengeful. Violent. Holly’s breasts and whole body shook from the impacts of his angry, selfish pounding. Her grunting sounds transformed into to loud, high-pitched shrieks and gasps. She was reduced to nothing more than Tony’s fucktoy. His face was a dominant grimace, teeth clenched as he slammed into his her, shockwaves rippling through his heaving fat belly.
Suddenly, a pained expression cast over Tony’s face. He looked toward me and roared like an olympic weightlifter, buttocks clenching. His orgasmic release was an explosive detonation inside her. Holly’s arms and legs were jelly-like, wracked with convulsions; he was holding her hips up in his crouched position, his strong hands firmly pulling Holly’s waist onto him, deeply impaling her on his nine inch semen hose. Holly’s arms gave way and she fell forward onto the bed. Her body was fused with Tony, quaking in unison, rocked by the inner concussive repeat shocks of their synchronised, orgasmic avalanche as Tony’s Arab seed flooded into my fertile, unprotected wife…
Finally, sapped of his testosterone-driven lust, Tony lowered Holly to the bed. The bull had fulfilled his Darwinian purpose. This animal had satisfied his desire for carnal conquest, for revenge, for dominance of her submissive flesh in the absence of her husband.
They separated to lay, gasping and panting. Sandra slowly crawled over toward me and picked up the phone, sending a confusingly dizzy perspective until it steadied over Holly’s crotch. She parted Holly’s thighs to reveal her red, raw, gaping arse and pussy, both slick with sweat and sexual and anal fluids. A hint of Tony’s thick, creamy cum began leaking from the abusively stretched chasm that used to be her beautiful, delicate femininity. Sandra moved the camera up to Holly’s face. She was breathless, giggling and smiling. “So,” Sandra began, “how was it? Did you enjoy getting properly fucked and filled by my husband?”
Holly nodded, still gasping, “Oh yes. Oh John, that was amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like it… So deep, so intense…”
The call ended abruptly.
Lightning flashed with a loud peel of thunder that rolled around the city. My world collapsed into an emotionally deep, dark hole…
It was 4:30am in Athens. It should have been dawn, but the storm had finally drawn over the city. In the choking humidity I’d retreated to the balcony of my hotel room, sitting naked in the warm, monsoon-like downpour as the storm raged around me. My emotions similarly surged in violent turmoil. And as if energised by the storm’s anger, my hard-on was raging, too. Lightning flashes prompted flashbacks of my own – of Sandra provocatively flaunting her naked sexuality; of her frigging Holly to orgasm; of Tony roughly mauling and biting Holly’s naked body with callused hands and slobbering, greedy mouth; of my wife helplessly impaled on Tony’s huge cock, breasts and limbs shaking as she convulsed in an overload of erogenous sensations; of Tony’s dark Arab skin tone contrasting with Holly’s pale form as he mounted and owned her like a dog with his bitch, his fat belly hefting and rippling as he pounded into her arse; of him pulling out his shit-slicked cock and carelessly plunging it into her pussy, teeth-gritted and snarling defiantly as he violently rammed his thick nine inches deep into her; of Holly’s screeches and howls of barely endured ecstasy in their bestial fucking; of him leaving her whimpering and gasping, a limp rag doll with raw, gaping holes and Tony’s deeply-planted Arab seed slowly oozing. Framed by strobing flashes and cacophonous peeling thunder I stood and shot my load out over the balcony rail, watching it cascade and fade from sight in the darkness and drenching downpour…
Was any of that real? Had I truly been watching my wife, Holly, as submissive, whoring filthy slut to Sandra and Tony’s dominant debauchery? Had I actually been turned on watching an alpha male possess and ferociously dominate my wife and fill her with his seed? Had I really heard her excitement and delight after such violent and abusive experience? Or was all of that just a fevered imagination in the heat, humidity and discomfort of a sleep-deprived night?
As I stepped back inside to shower, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. A text message from an unknown number:
‘Its me darling. On Sandras phone. My battery ran out. Wow. You staring at Sandra’s tits def changed things! Will be sore when you get home. Soz. (Not soz). Love you x’