A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance (6 page)

"Samantha, please!"

"You're not going to make another scene, are you?" she said calmly.

Where was she getting all this confidence from all of a sudden? I'd been drunk around her before. Not that drunk, but it had never changed her in the slightest.

Her eyes softened. "Why don't we talk about it later?" she offered.

I took another breath. She was right. We could talk about it in the room.

"Samantha!"

Bastian's deep voice from behind me made me startle and I almost knocked my glass over. As I turned, I caught the faint glimmer of a smile forming on Samantha's lips.

"Bastian!" I said, bounding up and taking off my sunglasses.

I saw the chuckle shaking in his chest before I heard it. He held out a hand.

"Andrew. Good to see you. Feeling okay?"

I looked back at Samantha. She was watching the two of us as we talked. "Bit better, thank-you. Look, I have to apologize. About last night. I...I'm not sure what got into me. Well, it was a whole lot of alcohol to be precise, but..."

He waved it all away with one hand. "Don't worry about it for another moment. I only felt badly for your wife."

That unpleasant ripple travelled through me again. Who was
he
to start feeling bad about my wife?

"Oh? Why's that?" I bristled.

He paused. Just for a moment. "Just making chit-chat, Mr. Smith. Just making chit-chat. You folks have a great day in the sun!" He shot us both a wide smile before walking back towards the kitchen.

I turned and looked at Samantha. Her arms were folded over her chest and she had one eyebrow raised. Maybe because her husband was being a complete ass?

I had to look away from the bathroom door. She was getting changed and I kept catching glimpses of her in the mirror. A nipple. A wisp of the down between her legs. It was turning me on and the last thing I needed mixed in with everything sloshing around in my head, was arousal.

When she came out wearing her blue bikini, I stood and walked towards the balcony door. I took a few deep breaths, hoping the salt in the air would steady my nerves.

"Aren't you going to get changed?"

I spun around at the question. I was almost shaking. As certain as I was that nothing had happened the night before, her refusal to answer was clawing at me. I needed to know the truth.

"Samantha," I said, stepping towards her, "can we please talk about what happened last night?"

She set down her beach bag and took off her sunglasses.

"Okay," she replied. She walked over to the bed and sat down. "Let's talk."

I felt a swell of relief. Now I was getting somewhere. "Okay," I said, sitting down next to her and putting a hand on her back. "I'm sorry I got so blind drunk. You didn't deserve that."

"Thank-you. Like I said, all is forgiven."

It wasn't though? Was it? The question of what she'd done last night was again on the tip of my tongue. I looked at her. She was staring straight at me, as if daring me to ask.

"So...what
did
you do after I passed out?" I asked, sounding quite sheepish.

She smiled, her expression smug. "I'm not sure if I should tell you..."

My shoulders sagged. This was unlike her, too. I probably deserved it, though. For being such an ass. Maybe there was a different way to find out.

"What about what I said then?" I blurted before I could think it through.

Another tiny twist of a smile. "You mean
before
you fell asleep?"

My nervous system shuddered to life. I felt my heart beat. There was a ringing in my ears. It was one thing to blather about it drunk. Now that I was relatively sober, the prospect of talking about my fantasy was terrifying.

"Yes. That's what I mean." I thought I played it well. My voice didn't break. I didn't look away. Only my cock shifted slightly.

"Well? What do you want to tell me about it?"

"What do I..." I trailed off. My eyes left hers. What did I want to say? Was this serious? Was this real? Did I really want to see her do that? Did I really want to see her with another man?

What if she already had?

"Andrew," she whispered, putting a hand on my knee.

I jumped. "Yes? What?!?"

"You're hung over. Let's go to the beach."

She stood up, picked up her bag and walked to the door.

"You coming? Some sun might do you good."

Ugh. That sounded like the last thing I needed. Sun. But a thought flickered to life. I bet there'd be lots of men paying attention to that blue bikini she was wearing.

"Hang on. I've gotta piss." I shuffled towards the bathroom, trying not to sulk. I could feel her eyes on me.

Whose idea was this anyway? Vacations. I hated fun in the sun.

Chapter 8

The beach wasn't so bad. They had umbrellas. I hid under one the whole time while Samantha basked in the sun. I wore a hat and dark glasses and shorts down to my knees. She wore that blue bikini.

The men that passed didn't gape. They didn't stare. They'd puff up a bit, though. Their chests would rise and they'd add a little swagger to their step. Just in case she was watching.

It became sort of a game, watching them, trying to see when they noticed her. I got pretty good at it. Even if she was on her stomach with her eyes closed, they'd get that strut, just in case.

Most of them were wearing sunglasses so I couldn't see their eyes. I could see them watching her, though. Their heads would still turn, just a bit.

I sat there hiding my erection with crossed legs, pretending I was staring out over the ocean. I knew what they were thinking. I knew what possibilities they were imagining, what they would do to her if they had her alone. It's what men do. The idea that they were thinking about it while staring at my wife made my blood boil and my insides churn.

The nagging question about what had happened after I'd fallen asleep didn't help.

Every time I saw one of them look over at her, I thought of the smile she'd given me when I asked her about last night. The feelings seemed to amplify one another until by the time we went in for lunch, I was confused and turned on and craving release.

I pulled her towards me greedily as soon as we stepped into the room.

My affection was met with giggles. Giggles. When did she start giggling so much?

"Oh Andrew, we just did that this morning. Remember?"

"Sure I do. Doesn't mean we can't do it again."

"I guess you're right," she conceded, smiling at me. "What's gotten all in a state again?"

Her hand drifted down my front and settled on my cock.

I was stiff as a rock.

"Did you enjoy the beach?" I brought her closer, leaned in and kissed her shoulder. Her skin was hot from the sun.

"You know I love the beach..."

She trailed off as I pressed my lips to her neck. I kissed her a little more.

"What do you think about? When you're lying in the sun like that?"

I felt her smile. She hummed a few notes of some made up melody. "I don't know...seashells?"

Yeah. Right.

"What do you think about, sitting in the shade like a big grumpy ogre?" she teased.

"You," I answered right away.

"Me?" She seemed surprised. "What about me?" She pulled away. I looked into her eyes.

"You. The way men walking by look at you. The way their chests rise, in case you're looking. I think about what they'd do to you, if they could have you."

The old Samantha, the one from back home, would have slapped me just then. Or rolled her eyes and gone to the bathroom or something. This one didn't. This one smiled.

"What do you think they'd do to me?" she whispered.

It drove me wild.

I thought about the previous night again. I thought of asking her, for real this time, what had happened after I'd passed out. I decided against it. It would have killed the mood. There had to be another way to find out.

"Did you enjoy dinner last night?" I asked, pressing my lips against her neck in a kiss. She tilted her head.

"I suppose it was alright. I didn't really like the part where you got drunk." she teased. Her body was liquid, willing and ready.

"Did you enjoy our chef?" I ventured. I felt her tense.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a giggle.

"I mean did you enjoy Bastian? He's quite a man."

When she answered, there was mischief in her eyes.

"He was quite friendly," she said, nodding.

"Tell me?"

"Tell you what?" she asked. She knew exactly what I wanted to hear.

"He's a fine man, don't you think?"

She smirked. "I suppose. Is that what you had in mind?" she asked.

"In mind? What mind?"

Her eyes locked onto mine. "Is that what you had in mind for me?" She was suddenly serious.

I felt an anxiety well inside me, filling my insides.

"So you've thought about it?"

Her lips turned up in another smirk. She lifted a leg, peeled off the sandal she was wearing. Then the other. Then she sank down in front of me, onto her knees. "I remember you, Andrew Smith, asking me a very lewd thing, indeed."

I couldn't believe my Samantha was talking like this. I looked at her expression. There was sin in that smile. She put her hands on my waist and I sank back against the door. She pulled my shorts down and my cock sprang free.

"So is that the kind of man you were thinking of for me? Our Chef Bastian?"

My cock bounced in front of her. She smiled.

"I guess so," she purred.

This was as lewd and dirty as I'd ever seen her. Nothing had ever made me harder. Her eyes were on my flexing cock. Everything about her was sex. I had to close my eyes and breathe.

"Samantha," I started but no more words would come.

She sank her mouth down onto me, working me in slowly, so I could feel the heat of her pretty little mouth as it surrounded my cock.

"Oh fuck, Samantha," I swore, watching her swallow my cock into her mouth. Her whole body seemed different. Proud, almost, of what she was doing to me. When she pulled herself off, she did it with a satisfying pop and I watched my member bouncing as it sprung from her mouth. I felt the cum travelling from my balls.

"Andrew Smith," she began, eyeing me with a coy smile, "it seems that you are a very. Dirty. Man."

The smile stayed in her eyes as she sank her mouth down onto me again. I'd never felt so aroused as watching her. I didn't want to come inside her mouth again but I feared that if she kept this up, I would.

"Oh Sam..." I groaned as her lips sank down onto me. She slid off, a smile playing across her lips.

"What is it, sweetie?" she asked, toying with me.

I put a hand behind her head and lowered her onto me again. "Oh please," I begged, needing the feeling of her mouth.

She obliged, more eagerly than she ever had before. She moved up and down the length of me. Her strokes went so deep sometimes that I could swear I felt the back of her throat. When she came off again, she was smiling even wider, her spit drooling down my cock.

She rose and I watched her pull at the top of the bikini she was wearing. She stood, grabbed me by the hand and practically threw me onto the bed.

I watched her stalk across the room, her exposed breasts, nipples hard, bouncing.

She crawled onto me, straddled me took my cock in hand.

"I think," she began, looking down and eyeing where I was about to enter her, "I think you're a very dirty man."

I flexed, my gaze fixated on her flirtatious smile.

"I think you're thinking of something very naughty."

I was. I was thinking of the naughtiest thing. "Tell me!" I begged, breathless.

"I think you're thinking of our chef's big, black cock sinking into me as you watch this."

With her hand still on my cock, she lifted herself up. She paused, staring at me staring at her, then drove herself down.

"Oh fuck!" I groaned as her sopping cunt sank all the way down my shaft. I felt her wet heat touch my balls.

"That is what you're thinking," she mused, toying with me, "You're thinking of his big, black cock inside of me. Instead of yours."

My cum surged inside me. She was right. I was thinking of just that. I wanted nothing more than for her to keep telling me about it. As she began to ride me slowly, she obliged.

"So you want to see Bastian's thick cock stuff me like this?"

Her body fell onto mine again. I gasped. It was the hottest thing I'd ever heard. She brought her exposed breast to my mouth and I strained to catch the stiff nipple with my lips. When I did, she moaned.

"Sam," I whispered, looking up at her again, "tell me you want it! Tell me you want to feel that black cock inside you!"

She smiled, but only with half her mouth this time. "Oh Andrew, I
want
it alright," she murmured. "I want to feel him filling me! Just. Like. This." She started fucking me harder.

I could only stare, wide-eyed as my perfect little Samantha rode my hard cock, burying me into her depths, searching for her pleasure. As I stared down at her swimming curves, I moaned.

The thought came from nowhere. I wondered if she'd put her diaphragm in. I pushed it aside. Even if she had, I wanted to think I was going to spurt into her without it.

"Sam! Fuck! I'm going to come!" I cried, the though of bursting inside her sending me over the edge.

Her mouth curled into a wicked little smile. Then her eyes rolled back. She tensed. She put her hands on my chest. Her hips kept flailing.

I felt my cock erupt as I unleashed all the seed I had into her. She looked down at me, her face a mixture of shock and wonder. Her orgasm took her too.

We both cried out as our bodies spasmed with pleasure. For a split second I wondered if she was thinking of me, or of him. It only made me come harder, that he might be in her mind. Gripping her hips, I released what I had left. She took it like a willing whore.

She rode out the last of her spasms on my waning cock, as if she wanted to milk the rest of what my body had to offer. When it was done, she fell onto me. I savoured the soft feeling of her breasts pressed against my chest.