Message-ID: <22001asstr$946307401@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Subject: {ASSM} tonytony3's "Anniversary Vacation (Wife Sharing, Swinging) 1/2 <*> X-Original-Message-ID: <19991227.010100.-15855.0.tonytony3@juno.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Juno-Att: 0 X-Juno-RefParts: 0 From: tonytony3@juno.com X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -9 Date: Mon, 27 Dec 1999 10:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin Tonytony3's Anniversary Vacation (wife sharing, swinging) tonytony3@juno.com This story is a revised version of one posted a year or so ago. It had been a wonderful vacation. We met Barbara and Stan, also staying at this resort, who liked to do the same kinds of things we do. Then, there were times like this. I loved looking at her when she was like this, at her long red hair, framing her head on the pillow, at her face, now a little flushed, glowing under a sheen of perspiration. Looking, as she lie there, her eyes closed, her mouth a little open, her tongue wetting her lips, making those little noises in pace with my own movements. Her hands were above her head, held there by my own grasp of her wrists. When did I do that? I loved her, lusted after her, even after ten years of marriage. I looked down, at her neck, and saw her pulse there, and lower still, at her breasts, crowned with nipples proudly erect. And lower, over her pale belly, to darker but still red hair trimmed in a bikini cut, and my own darker hair merged with it, on it. I watched as I moved my hips, revealing my shaft, glistening, and thrust in again, the action moving her body under mine, her breasts moving, too, with the impact. How could I have been so lucky to marry this beautiful woman exactly ten years ago? My eyes closed, as I remembered something else, the only really erotic story she ever told me. A story about her, after her divorce, when she was lonely and hurting. Of her being at the lounge at the Garden City Hotel after attending a meeting there. Of her meeting Haroldo, a horse owner, a Spaniard, there to race his stable at Belmont. Of being charmed by his accent, and by him, and loving the attention he lavished on her. And how, after an hour of being enchanted by him, of being made to feel better about herself by him, she accepted his suggestion to join him in his room. I remembered her telling how she went to that room, of at first sitting beside him on the bed, of touching and kissing, and then her going into the bathroom, and then of leaving it wrapped in one of the large towels the hotel was proud to provide, of Haroldo unwrapping the towel as though she were the most precious gift, and of his loving her, making love to her, as though she really was the most beautiful woman in the world. Now, I knew, Haroldo could still remember how she looked under him, as he took her, that one night, so many years ago. How he couldn't help compare any other woman to his vision of Helen. My own eyes were closed, imagining that scene, of her, my wife, my Helen, under that man, accepting him into her body. I couldn't help myself. My own motions became faster, my excitement built. I felt Helen pull a hand free, and opened my eyes, as she reached between us. Her touch - how could her touch be so charged, so electric, even after all these years? Her eyes, still noticeably green, even in the subdued light, were smiling. "You're thinking of him again, aren't you?" She captured my penis between thumb and forefinger, and was stroking me. God, she could tease! "'Fess up, I know when you move like that you're thinking of me and Haroldo. Right?" I was silent. Her fingers changed their pace, their pressure, bringing even more excitement, more lust. "Tell me. That's exactly what you were doing, wasn't it?" "Right." "Bad boy!" Her stroking became more insistent. "I always thought men were supposed to be upset if their wives behaved a little on the trashy side before they were married. Not you!" Her eyes were alive with delight and mischief, while I felt those little spasms in her vagina. "I wish I could make up stories as will as I remember things, if this is going to be my reward. . ." I couldn't help himself: "I wish you did have other stories. . ." But by then I, and she, were past talk - our bodies expressed everything that needed to be said. Later, dressed in the terry robes the resort put in every room, we went onto the balcony. This resort was built in a vee, opening onto the Pacific, which we could see lapping at the hotel's private black sand beach. Our room was on the fifth of Maui Palace's ten floors, and midway out the vee. The view was wonderful. Now, at sunset, the light poured into our side of the vee. At sunrise, the other side glistened, just vague shapes with reflections - a beautiful romantic place. She stood at the rail, and I, behind her, was still erect enough so that she knew I was there, with just our robes between us. "For someone married ten years, you're a horny man" she said, moving herself against me, enjoying making me more excited. "What a great place to mark our anniversary," I muttered. "Are you going to do what you did yesterday?" she wanted to know. Yesterday, after sex in the afternoon, we stood in the same place, in the sun, and I lifted the back of her robe, and parted the front of mine. People on the beach and in the courtyard below, when they looked up, saw us, one behind the other, enjoying the view. Had they looked a little more closely, they might have seen that I was also enjoying being in my wife, that her stance was a little strange, pelvis tilted away from the railing, and moving back and forth in counter-time to her husband's small movements, too. I turned her for still another kiss. "No, not that, not now." "Is this kiss the start of the next orgy for two, or the end of the last one?" she wanted to know. "Probably both, darling" "Only two more nights in Paradise. . ." "We'll make the most of them. Scuba tomorrow with Stan and Barbara, then more beach time, maybe I'll try a surf board again." She interrupted "After watching you trying to surf yesterday, dear sir klutzy sir - you're going to have to do that one alone! I couldn't bear to watch, again. And, by the way," moving even closer to me, "exactly what did you mean, you wish I had more stories? Haroldo isn't good enough?" I thought about that. "That was, what, thirteen years ago? We get a lot of mileage from it, though." "Yeah, thirteen years. And when you talk about it, and then do things to me, it makes it as good as it was then. Maybe better." "That's nice of you to say, but if you think about it, you really loved that evening with him, didn't you?" We walked back inside, and by unspoken mutual desire, lay down on the bed again. "Yeah, I did. I only did that the one time. . ." "I like to think about him doing this" I said, untying her robe's belt, and moving the garment to either side. Helen sat up, pushing me down, and got my robe open, too. "Tell me what you think about, when you think about him and me," she wanted to hear about that again. "I like to think about how it looked, and how it felt for him to touch you, and kiss you, and, what it looked like when you touched him. You know all of that, I told you before." "Tell me more, tell me again, tell me tell me tell me." She had her hand around my penis, now, and I felt her stroking begin again, and felt me getting a little harder, again. "I love thinking about how it was when he got on you, when you opened yourself up for him, and when you had him so excited, and when he pushed into you. I love thinking about that. I absolutely love thinking of him in you, and moving in you, and his penis pulsing and filling you with his sperm. . .," ". . .sometimes I wish. . ." I started to say. "Tell me tell me tell me tell me," each phrase corresponding to her pushing down, making my penis's head uncover, then cover again. "I wish. . ." "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell mmmmm" and her mouth covered the head now! "Sometimes I wish you'd make up more stories, or be naughty and get more stories." She lifted her head, the stroking continuing. "Naughty? I thought it was naughty or nice, and I want to be nice. It's too late for me to be naughty." "Sometimes, honey, with married people, naughty IS nice" I told her. "Oh," she said, acting as though my penis was someone to talk to. "That other prick thinks naughty is nice. I don't think he means that." "Sometimes I wish that you would be, ah, naughty, that you could call Haroldo, and tell him he could have seconds." "Will you listen to that other prick, talking to his wife like that? You'd think he wanted me to find someone like you to talk to, or maybe to do this to. . ." And she planted a kiss on that purple head that was now starting to throb. She looked up at me. "Be careful what you wish for, honey." "Yeah, I know, but when we're doing it, my mind goes places it shouldn't." She moved against me again. "Tell me again where it goes - you bad man!" "I just love that story, Helen, I love the idea that you had a one night stand like that. I wish you had done it more." I hugged her, kissed her. I couldn't help himself. "Sometimes I wish you'd do it again." She kissed back, not angry as I feared she might be. . "What an idea. What a thing to say to a woman you've been married to for ten years. After ten years and during an anniversary vacation on Hawaii he finally reveals to his wonderful, faithful, pure as snow wife what he really is like, what he really likes." The tone of her voice, the pressure of her body and the expression on her face let me know she was enjoying this. "What do you think of this? Someday, if there's an opportunity, just maybe I'll grant you your wish." A final squeeze, and before I could respond she changed the subject. "Honey, let's go down to dinner." We slept that night like young lovers, wrapped in each other, loving each other, touching. Morning came, and an early awakening. We had a call from Barbara and Stan, whose rental car we were sharing to the boat. The four of us rushed to meet our dive master, and we were ready to go. I was distracted during the dive, admiring my wife, with her pale skin accented by her white bikini, with her hair flowing in the water, the image as beautiful as the formations they swam over. Barbara and Stan, diving nearby, inhibited anything else I might want to do, I realized. I briefly looked at Barbara, and saw that she was kind of pretty, too. Still, I'd rather look at Helen. The trip ended at noon, and the drive back to the resort took only minutes. "I need a nap," I told the group. "I'll see you guys tomorrow" was my parting shot to Stan and Barbara as Helen and I got off at the fifth floor, while they continued up one more, to their room, somewhere above ours. "When you say nap, do you mean, to sleep," Helen wondered, "or to make love?" "It's gotta be to sleep, first. You, woman, are wearing me out!" "OK, but I'm not sleepy. I'll wander around a while." I had to have fallen asleep in minutes. Nearly four hours later I felt light kisses, what a way to wake up. "Honey, come on, wake up." "What a nice way to wake up, being kissed by a beautiful woman who happens to be my wife. Where you doing while I was sleeping?" "I went to the beach, to sit and soak up every minute of our time here." "Good." "Uh, Al?" "Yeah, honey?" "I was thinking about what you were saying about getting naughty stories for us to play with. Were you serious about that?" "Sure, I think so." "We're far from Long Island, honey, and no one knows us here. Maybe I could be naughty here." "Oh, you are a bad little girl. We're only here for a couple more nights. You tell me what you're thinking about." "Al, while I was on the beach, a really cute thing happened. A guy came over to flirt to me." "A guy, what guy?" "He was Irish, name's Michael, and boy he sure had a brogue. 'What's a fine Irish lass like you sitting alone on the beach all about?' he wanted to know". "'Not Irish, American,'" I told him, but he told me anyone who'd let a lovely Irish woman like me off the Emerald Isle had to be a Brit or a Roman or some other enemy of Ireland! He was really funny - they really do have a way with words, don't they?" "Maybe so. It sounds like he was flirting with you. Or, were you flirting with him?" "It was a little bit of both, honey. I don't know about him, but I could feel real tension in the air between him and me. I was thinking too much about granting you what you wished for in a safe and beautiful place like this. " "And I thought I was too bold when I was telling you what I fantasized about. Shame on you, girl!" She had a way of tilting her head, of glancing at me that was so childlike I couldn't help but laugh, as she explained ""Oh master, I thought that was what you wanted me to do." Her eyes fluttered. "I thought I was supposed to get some big bad man all excited, and if that big thing he had hanging there grew up and pointed at me I thought I was supposed to let it point inside me too, and to allow myself to be ravaged by him, and then come back and tell you all about it, while you did the same thing to me." She couldn't keep a straight face as she said "Please forgive me." "You're right," I told her, laughing. "You are supposed to do that!" She stopped laughing, and looked at me, with her 'I'm going to get you now, buster' smile on her face. "Honey, before Michael came back into the hotel, he told me he's going down for cocktails at 4:30, and it'd break his heart and ruin his whole day, his whole weekend, and maybe his whole life if I didn't meet him." "You're making all of this up!" "Go ahead, you think that, and I WILL go meet him! I don't want to ruin his whole life, and the lives of his children and grandchildren, too." "Did he actually say that?" "You bet he did." "Is he really that much fun?" "He really was, honey." "Did you tell him you were here with your husband?" "Uh. . . no. He assumed I was with that group of teachers staying here, and I never had a chance to correct him." "Come on, Helen, what's this 'never had a chance'?" "I guess I mean, I never took the chance. The flirting he was doing was way too much fun." "What kind of a woman did I marry, carrying on like that? Was he making a move on you?" "I think so." "Was he, uh, sexy?" "Yeah, a lot, for a guy about fifty. Now that I think about it, Haroldo was about fifteen years older than me, too." "You mean, he's like Haroldo?" "Not really, but is some ways, yeah, a little." "Did it make you feel good when you were flirting with him?" "Oh, don't be mad kind sir, but yes, sir, it did!" I thought for a minute, and was so aware of my penis filling, and my mind filling with images of long ago, and possible new ones. "I don't think you should ruin his whole life, honey, by not going down to meet him." I continued: "In fact, maybe you should pretend you're back in New York, and the Garden City Hotel, like thirteen years ago when you were Miss Casey. Maybe be 'I'm a teacher on vacation' Miss Helen Casey, and not Mrs. Al Dunes on a ten year anniversary vacation. Maybe it's time for a new Haroldo. What do you think of that? I dare you to keep a date with this guy. Double dare, even!" "Are you serious?" "You want to know how serious? Look at this." I pulled the covers back. She could have no doubt about how excited I was. She bent down - oh, I love when she touches me. She looked at the purple head protruding from her hand. "Mr. Little Prick, did you hear what your life support system said?" She made it nod! "Do you want me to meet this guy, too?" She made it nod again. "Mr. Little Prick, I think this guy may not have honorable intentions toward me. Maybe he wants to put his Mister Prick where you like to go. Does your life support system know that?" She covered me up again, and said "Be careful what you wish for, baby." "I know just what I'm wishing for. What time is it, anyway?" "A few minutes after four." I looked at her, her sparkling eyes, her hand on my thigh. "Maybe you'd better get ready for your date, or are you just teasing me?" "You know I don't have the imagination to make things like this up. You want me to go?" "Yeah." "Like I was Miss Casey, thirteen years ago, and not Mrs. Dune, like I am now?" "Yeah, I do." "Just like the Garden City Hotel, you mean?" "Yeah, like that." "Except, now I'm not sad, so I don't need a Haroldo to make me feel good about myself - you do know that. It would have to be just for fun, for you and for me. You won't be mad?" "Nope." "How long should I stay, honey?" "Long enough to get a good story, but for sure not all night." "A story about somebody lusting after me?" "Yeah, that story." "Can I stay long enough so that I don't have to make anything up?" "Yeah, that long." "Long enough to make him get long, too?" "Yeah, a little longer than that, to make him shorter, too." "Be careful what. . ." "Yeah, I know, what I wish for. I wish. . .I wish. . ." "It was like Haroldo?" she prompted. "Yeah, like then." "You're just not a jealous man, are you?" "No, honey. I know you love me, and I know the difference between seduction and lust and sex, and love." "If I go, that could really happen, you know. That seduction stuff, and lust stuff, and sex stuff. It could easily happen in a place like this, and a guy like this Michael." "I know. I want it to." "You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Dune." She went to the bathroom, came out with her hair combed out to her shoulders, smelling of flowers and spice. She wrapped her white sarong over her bikini, fastening the inner flap button between her breasts, and completing the wrap to under her arm, where the outer corner fastened. A final button at her hip, and a quick knot in the sash, and she was ready. Images of Haroldo unwrapping her flooded my mind, while she smiled and told me she'd "be back in a while. . ." "Maybe I'll go down for a drink, too." "Good. Come down soon, so you can see the man you want me to mess around with." And, with that, she left. I couldn't stand the suspense. I pulled on chinos, and a shirt, and was on his way down a minute later. I got to the lounge in time to see her sitting with a guy - that had to be Michael - who was so obviously Irish they looked like a caricature of an Irish couple. He was ten or fifteen years older than me, and I'll say it, handsome, with dark curly hair, the both of them had that pale Irish skin, their heads were together, laughing. Him, mostly talking, her, mostly listening, both enjoying themselves. Of course she saw me sitting at the bar, but obviously decided to pretend she didn't know me. After a half hour, with the sun still high in the sky, Michael stood, looking down at her, and . . . . .extended his hand, an obvious invitation.. She looked around, saw me, her husband, watching, and took his hand, allowing him to pull her from her chair. She stood beside him. Michael made a sweeping gesture, indicating the way out, and she stepped to him, and still holding his hand, went to the door. I watched as they left, followed them to the lobby, followed as they went to the elevators, watched as they entered, and watched as the indicator climbed to the fourth floor, carrying Michael, carrying Helen. She actually went! I stood there in a kind of a daze, then Stan and Barbara came by, moving to the next elevator. Still shocked, I joined them. Stan made a friendly gesture: "Wanna join us for dinner?" I was befuddled at best, and declined. "Uh, no, I gotta wait for Helen. I don't know for sure when she'll be back." Barbara enhanced the offer, making it even better. She gave me a quick kiss full on the lips, and said "Oh, leave a message for her, come on up to our room, and party with us." "I really have to wait for her. A party does sound nice, though. Maybe tomorrow". "OK" Barbara replied, "Maybe tomorrow, but I said party with us, not come to a party. See you later." What did all of that mean? Our room was bright with the setting sun flooding in, and I was very alone. I wondered to the door leading to our balcony, wondering what was happening with Helen. A story? Made up, or real? How could I wait? I wanted her back, right now! My gaze, empty and unfocused, was drawn to the opposite hotel wing.. A floor lower, and directly across, a door was opening to the balcony. Helen stepped out, carrying a flute of what was probably champagne. She stepped out alone! I opened the sliding door for better visibility, but stayed in a stark shadow, and reached for the binoculars. Helen walked across the balcony to the rail, and leaned out, obviously enjoying the view of the ocean, but unable to see me. Oh, it was sunset - you couldn't see anything on this wing because of the reflections and glare. What was going on? Where was Michael? My mind was racing. "What the hell?" I wondered, raising the binoculars, focusing them, and looking again. 10 by 75 binoculars brought her so close, as though she was across the room, instead of across the courtyard. Then, I heard a voice from above the next floor up.. "Stan, look there. Isn't that Helen from downstairs?" That was Barbara's voice: their room must be right above ours. In a moment, I heard Stan: "God, it looks just like her. Let me get our binoculars." "Damn, it is her. She is one beautiful woman. Boy, I'd like to. . ." And Barbara's voice interrupted: "I know what you'd like." "Wait a minute - look at that!" Michael came into view, and walked behind Helen. "That's not Al, honey, he's downstairs in their room," Stan said. "What's going on?" Michael was wearing one of the terry robes the hotel left in every room. He walked right up behind my wife, his body language confident, and put an arm on each side of her, holding the rail, and probably moved very close to her. Helen tilted her head back, and moved back a little to meet him, moving against Michael the same way she moved against me yesterday - she was rubbing her ass into his groin! Our friends on the upstairs balcony were enjoying the show. "Look at that! She's coming on to him! It's some kind of seduction game she's playing!" I watched one of her hands reach up, and caress his check, and her mouth utter a few words. And he lowered his head, obviously kissing her neck she extended it in that way of hers, and brought her arm over her head so that she could pull her hair back, exposing it for him. That was an incredibly sexy gesture. It suggested pleasures, not inhibitions, were on her mind! "Look at that! This is gonna go all the way, I can tell!" Stan said. "Oh, man." Michael's hands left the rail, and now were on her stomach, pressing her back to him, and her hands were on his, helping him hold her. I remembered a couple of days ago when we stood like that, and I was in her! In a moment Michael moved, backing her a step away from the rail. The audience upstairs were really liking this. "Shit, Barbara, look at that! She's getting me so hard!" I could see Michael kissing her neck, and then saw one of his hands at her hip. Her hand went to help. She released the sarong button there, to make access easier. He undid the sash, and as it fell, his hand disappeared under the side panel of her sarong, about stomach high. "Stan, he has his hand under her dress!" "Let me have the glasses!" And I watched Michael talking to her, and her, to him, for a minute. What was going on, I wanted, needed, to know. Then I saw Michael's hand, under the wrap, move in to the elbow: it had to be on her left hip! The two of them were still facing the railing, her own hand on her right hip, his on her left under her wrap, both of them busy. What was going on? Then her hand went back to his cheek, and held his head against her shoulder. He was saying something to her, as his hand, under the wrap, moved again, across her hip, to her belly, and down a little. "Give me the glasses, Stan - you can't have all the fun!" Helen stood a little taller, and there, through the railing, at her feet, I saw her bikini bottoms. I remembered, they fastened on her hips with Velcro! They used to be fastened there, at least! Helen had invited this Michael, this stranger, to help her remove her bottoms! "Stan, could you see that? He took her bikini bottoms off. She's bare-assed under that thing!" And Helen turned to face Michael, so that his hand came out from under the wrap, and instead he embraced her, while she again stood taller to kiss him. But, he bent down, and with a hand across her back, at her shoulders, and the other behind her knees, he lifted her, in his arms, while the kiss continued! As he stood up, I could see the robe Michael was wearing had opened, and as Helen was lifted to about waist high, Michael's own legs, groin, and erect penis were displayed under her. He was naked under the robe. Her sarong, fastened only at the neck, opened, falling away, at the knees, captured by his hand on her back, but opening to there, showing, from our balcony, through the glasses, a foot, leg, hip, and side, all nude, and I knew as Michael looked down at this woman in his arms he saw more than just that! "Quick, look, Stan!" I fought to catch my breath, as Michael turned, flashing a view along her body, then, still carrying Helen, still kissing her, moved back into the room, leaving the balcony, leaving those white bikini bottoms there. "Barbara, she's fucking naked - no, she's still got her top on. . He's got a giant boner. I wonder if Al knows what's happening! She's going to fuck that guy right now! Come here. I gotta get in you right now before I explode!" And there was no more to see, but a lot to imagine. I spent an hour on the bad, on my back, thinking, wondering, what was happening now, but I knew, I was sure I knew. The noises from the upstairs balcony provided the audio to what to the scenes flashing in my mind, scenes from across the courtyard. I started to masturbate, then stopped, wanting my erection in her, wanting to ejaculate in her, not into a tissue, wanting her there, with me, with a story, a new story, a story about what she just did. The sun set, darkness fell. It had only been an hour since Helen left the lounge, left to get material for the story I wanted, she wanted, left to have sex, to make me cuckolded, and a voyeur. She didn't know that I could see her, or that Barbara and Stan could. Or, the thought suddenly burst on me. Maybe she did know I could see! At last the door to their suite opened, and Helen, hair messed, came in. "Are you asleep?" "Of course not." "Are you mad?" Well, yeah, I was, and excited, and upset, but I couldn't let her know about the negative feelings I had. I encouraged her: dared, even double dared, her, to do that, to do Michael. "No, but I am excited. I saw you on his balcony. What was that all about?" "My God, you could see??" "Some, yeah, but not the good parts." You're OK?" "Yeah, tell me about it." She broke into a huge smile, and spun like a little girl. "It was so great!" She sat beside the bed. "I'll tell you everything. It's a great story, and so much fun, even better than Haroldo. It was like I could do anything I wanted because you wanted me to and we were so far from home." "While we were going up in the elevator, he kissed me, and he really needed a shave. Look how red my chin got when he did that." I did. It was. "So, I told him, I said 'You told me you were the greatest Irish lover in all the written history, and being sung about in convents, Michael, but you should know you don't get to kiss the fair lass if your beard is going to scratch her face!' "And he said 'Lassie, to kiss you for a minute I'd shave for an hour'. "As soon as we got to the room, he poured me a glass of bubblie, and told me to make myself comfortable, while he shaved. "I went to the balcony while he was in the bathroom. "I was surprised when he came out, he came behind me so quietly I didn't know he was there until he had me trapped by the rail. "So I reached up, and felt his cheek. It was so smooth, and he smelled so nice from after shave. "He wanted to know if it was OK to kiss me now, and I said yes. So, he started to kiss my neck, and I backed into him the way you like me to back into you, and sort of moved around a little. That really got him excited: me, too. Did you see that?" "I saw him do that, and the way you moved your hair out of the way - that was so sexy!" Helen continued "It was for me, too. He was holding me against him, then, did you see that?" "Yeah, and then I saw. . ." "Yeah, him putting his hand under my wrap on my belly. I loved his touch. You say when I touch you it's like electricity - so was his." "But then he slipped his hand down, and he touched my bikini bottoms. He was so funny!" "What do you mean?" "He said something like 'Oh, lassie, lassie, don't you know that panties under a dress like this are a great hindrance to the world's greatest lover. America hasn't taught you anything. We lovers from the Emerald Isle can't fight these things. My day, maybe the rest of my life, is ruined. Oh, woe.' "And I said 'Michael, you can't possibly be the world's greatest lover, or even the second greatest, if you think those are panties'. "And he said 'No, No, tell me it isn't a chastity belt, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?' "I told him they were bikini bottoms. "He said it still seemed like the end to romance in his lifetime, that he'd become a priest, or maybe gay, until I told him they weren't locked on, or anything. " 'What's a man to do' he wanted to know, and I told him to get his hand off my belly and get it to my hip. "He slid his fingers along the seam to my hip." "'What's this I feel, lassie?' he wanted to know. "I told him 'Velcro. You do that side, and I'll do the other'. "He did, and I did, and I think my bottoms are still on his balcony!" "Then I turned to kiss him. "Honey, his robe opened. He was naked under it! He undressed in the bathroom after he shaved! "Then he just picked me up and carried me inside." "That's all I saw. What happened next?" "Well, he put me on the bed, and lay down beside me, and he was hugging me and kissing me, and I was hugging and kissing back. I didn't know what to do next. "We were like this." She lay beside me so our arms were around each other. "Then, he put his hand on my knee and pulled it over his hip. Go on, do that." I did. "Then he reached over my hip -go on, do it - until he was touching me -oh! - like that, from behind. I was so wet, and so excited, I felt like a whore. "He touched me for the longest time, honey, and it felt so good, and then he said something like 'Lassie, lassie, you feel so good, I have to see that, and taste it, too." "And he rolled me onto my back, and figured out about the last button on my beach wrap, and got that open. "And he just opened it, so I was there, wearing only the bikini top. "'Lassie, lassie, these kinds of things would ruin a lesser man, but I'll forgive you wearing that damnable thing if you take it off right now!'' "So I sat up, and took it off, and lay back down. "Come on, Al, you know how to get this wrap off. Do it." I did. "No top or bottom! Does he have both?" "Yeah, I have more of those, and he wanted a reminder of me." "Then he started kissing my body. You do that now." I bent to her breasts, took one in my mouth. "What am I smelling?" "His after shave lotion. Oh, you do that better than he did." By now, I was working his way lower, until I got to her pubic hair. "I smell lotion here, too!" "You should." She had my head in both hands, and pulled me higher. "You'd smell it lower, too, but I don't want your mouth there. I want your cock there." She got it there in an instant. "Did you go down on him, Helen?" "No, he wanted to be in me right away. Right after his mouth was there, his cock was, too." That DID it: instant orgasm! Afterwards, as we lay there, in each other's arms, Helen told the rest of the story. "Al, Michael is, at heart, a really sweet man." "What do you mean?" ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to linelengths exceeding the 75 character limit. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+