Stories from author Gentlemanrelish

[Brainmetal]

A Holiday Purchase

By Gentlemanrelish ©

A beautiful wife is seduced on holiday by an older married man.

A two week holiday on a beautiful Spanish beach was just the thing for me and my wife Sally. Following an intense period of work for both of us, we agreed some time in the sun would help to recharge each other's batteries. We had given the kids to Sally's parents, which meant peace and quiet. I still had a mountain of reports to complete for the electronics firm I worked for, but at least I could do those in the sun.

Sally had booked the holiday in a hurry, and we had no real idea of what to expect when we arrived. But the apartment was large, air-conditioned, and practically brand spanking new. Although there was no sea view from the first floor balcony, we had a great view of the pool and the short cut green grass that surrounded it.

"Harry, I think we'll be just fine here," Sally said to me as I heaved the suitcases on to the bed.

After we'd unpacked, showered and changed, we took a stroll down the dusty streets to the beech front. Sally looked fabulous in a short-sleeved yellow summer dress, which was, I noticed, just translucent enough for me to see her thin white bra that held those wonderfully large breasts in place. She had let down her long auburn hair, which, without having time to apply her straighteners, still had waves and kinks. The bars were open, and families strolled up and down the sea front watching jugglers or listening to street buskers.

We took a soft couch at the front of a bar that overlooked a series of tall palms, ordered a beer each, and sighed as the coolness slid down. The sun was setting and lights across bay flickered on. We sipped our second and third cold ones.

Some time later, we staggered and giggled our way back toward the apartment. I'd had my arm around her waist, casually letting my hand slip to her ass, as we wandered though the crowds. I noticed the number of men casually glance first at Sally's face, and then down to her breasts that continued to try escaping her dress. My cock stirred as I loved men looking at her, and I loved to show her off. There was something about parading her round in sexy clothes that turned me on. Sally was usually quite self conscious, especially about her large, round breasts. She was a petite five feet two, with a tiny back, but a huge 30EE bra cup.

I was practically busting my shorts as we finally got back to the apartment. The first thing Sally did was to slip off her dress.

"Whew. It's so warm."

She stepped out on to the balcony, clad only in matching bra and knickers. She stood looking over the pool.

"Why don't you go down for a dip?" I said, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms round her waist.

"Mmmm," she murmured. I slipped my hands up to cup those gorgeous pillows encased beneath white lace. "Not here, Harry. Someone might see."

"No they wont. It's midnight. Anyway, they're all families in this block. Nobody will be looking."

My right hand moved down her belly to the top of her panties.

"Harry. Stop it!"

My hand moved below the fabric to her shaven mound. Her hips pressed back and she sighed.

I unfastened her bra with my other hand, and eased out her lovely melons. Her nipples raised at my touch.

"Let's go in to the bedroom," she said, ever the shy one.

"No. I'm going to do it to you here."

"No..." she protested, but I eased her down to the sun lounger, turning her on to her back, and feasting on her bosom. She gasped loudly, and stuffed her hand in her mouth, as she knew what was coming next.

Sally loves the feel of hand or mouth on her breasts. There are times when I have made her orgasm just from rubbing her nipple in a certain way, or taking as much of one breast in my mouth as I can. I've made her cum by massaging her neck with my thumb, and teasing her nipple with my other hand. Even in public places like on a train, in a café, or just walking in the country, I know her sweet spots and can nearly always switch them on like a light. Once on a bus, I was massaging the top of her thigh under her skirt. By the time our stop arrived, she was so aroused that she was shaking from head to toe uncontrollably.

My cock sprang out and up, and was soon between Sally's moist flesh, slipping easily inside her. I pounded her hard and enthusiastically, her breasts bouncing, little moans and groans escaping her lips. My rhythm built and built, as her moans became louder, echoing over the air across the pool, before I spent myself inside her.

I was a little embarrassed at cumming so soon for her, and I could tell she was more than a little disappointed. I thought I might be able to get hard for her again, but soon found myself drifting off to sleep.

The next morning Sally headed down to the pool to start cultivating her tan, whilst I started on the raft of reports I had to compile. There was a lot of data to process and I became pretty involved for several hours.

Just after lunch, I grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge and wandered out on to he balcony. Sally was lazing on a sun lounger in a tiny yellow bikini, chatting to a couple who had parked themselves next to her. They were about 20 years older than us. She was short and a little plump, whilst he was tall, muscular, and looked like he kept himself in shape. The three were drinking wine from a cooler, and were laughing away as though they were old friends.

I finished my beer and returned to my reports. With any luck I figured I should have them completed within a day or two, and then I would be able to get some sun myself.

An hour or so later, I took another beer and wandered back out on to the balcony. There was no sign of the woman who had been there, but the man was liberally applying sun tan lotion to Sally who was lying on her front on the sun lounger. He gave her back and shoulders a thorough massage, before undoing her bikini top. I thought that Sally would object to this, with her prudish side kicking in. But maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just that she was so relaxed, but she seemed to be enjoying his touch.

His hands wandered all over her back, the tops of her buttocks, and then began work on her legs. First her calves, then the backs of her thighs and then to the tops of her legs just below her bikini bottoms. Her head rose off the sun lounger, and she said something to him. Maybe she was protesting, I couldn't really hear. But he kept on with his massage, that was becoming more intimate by the moment.

My cock started to harden, knowing that her juices would be flowing in preparation. I decided I'd better rescue her. Sally is sometimes far too polite to say no. I saved my work, and grabbed the apartment keys. It took about five minutes to get down the stairs, and round to the back of the apartment to the pool. By the time I'd arrived, the massage had stopped, possibly interrupted by the arrival of the man's wife.

Her name was Barbara, I learned, and his was Simon. They owned one of the large apartments opposite ours on the top floor. Sally had evidently become firm friends with them both, and we were invited out to dinner.

"There's a fabulous restaurant on the Marina," said Simon. "They do fantastic lobster."

And so it was that Sally and I sampled the lobster at the restaurant with Barbara and Simon that evening. He was a retired telecoms magnet, had made his fortune making television companies, and had property throughout Europe. They were both dressed immaculately, he in a white cotton shirt, she in a flowing pale blue linen dress, each with a decorative 'S' brand logo in the left breast - an expensive designer label, I guessed. He dominated the conversation over his quiet little wife, who sat smiling and giggling throughout dinner.

Afterwards, they took us down to their boat, moored just two minutes from the restaurant. Simon enjoyed fishing, so the rear deck was set up with poles and fishing equipment. A pair of small doors led down to a tiny galley, and beyond a bedroom with a massive double bed. It struck me as being slightly odd that such a small boat had a huge bed, but, as Barbara pointed out, they liked to be comfortable when they were away from home.

Simon and Barbara then invited us back to their apartment for drinks. We wandered back up through the shops, which were still open for late evening shoppers. These were exclusive designer shops, with four figure price tags that were way outside the price range of Sally and I.

Nevertheless, Barbara and Sally enjoyed dipping in and out of the shops, trying on shoes, looking at handbags, and holding up dresses that cost more that the GDP of some African countries.

"Look at this!" Sally held up a white linen dress. Long and flowing, with a halter neck, and a plunging back.

"You would look stunning in that," commented Simon.

"And we would have yet another mortgage," I quipped.

Sally spun round and round with it mocked up against her.

Back at their flat, Simon poured me a Scotch and the ladies made themselves cocktails. After the third, or was it the forth, I found myself on their balcony, looking down on to the pool, and trying to figure out which was our own apartment.

"It's a lovely view from up here," said Simon, who joined me. "And she's a lovely woman."

"Thanks," I slurred.

"It must take a lot to keep her happy."

"What do you mean? I don't think so."

"Well, women like that loved to be looked after, you know? You have to keep them, and lavish them with love and attention."

"Yeah." I had no idea what he was getting at.

"Of course, you're careful, aren't you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you're not careful, somebody else might lavish more attention on her than you, and then..."

He left the words having in their air, but I still wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"I'm not sure..." I stuttered. "I know Sally loves me."

"Of course, of course. But don't you think that women can be bought away from their husbands?"

"No. Not Sally."

"Not with money. Nothing as vulgar as that. But ladies like things, don't they? A man who can click his fingers and produce wonderful things for her, will always be attractive to a woman like Sally."

"Nah, nah. You're wrong."

"Not at all. I'll bet you that a woman like Sally could be tempted away from her loving husband. All she needs is the right...motivation, I'd bet."

"No, I bet she wouldn't. I mean, I know she wouldn't."

"Would you place that bet? Are you a betting man, Harry?"

"Yes, I mean, I am..." I liked a few notes on the horses sometimes, is what I was trying to say, when the ladies joined us. I realised that Simon had taken my hand and shaken.

"Oooh look," Sally pointed. "You can see our apartment, and right down on to our balcony."

The next morning, I had the mother of all hangovers, and spent the day in bed. By mid day Sally told me she was going over to Barbara and Simon's flat. I didn't really care, as my head was exploding and my stomach was doing its best to climb down into the toilet.

Late in the afternoon, sipping a pint of water, I stood on the balcony looking down at the pool. It was still baking and the heat haze was too intense. Glancing upwards I tried to pick out the apartment of Barbara and Simon. It must be the middle one, directly in line with ours, I thought. There was perhaps some movement up there, but I couldn't really focus properly.

The doorbell rang, and it was Barbara, who had brought me some fresh orange juice from the nearby market. I thanked her and we chatted for a few minutes, and I told her that I hoped Sally hadn't been too unwelcome.

"Oh I've been at the market all day," said Barbara. "I love it there." She showed me the bags of food she'd bought.

Suddenly, I had a rising panic. Sally was alone with Simon in their apartment, and as far as I could figure, had been alone with him all day.

"Let me give you a hand back to your apartment with some of those bags." I grabbed two of them.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

But I was already at the stairs.

Barbara rabbited away at me, as I tried to hurry her up, crossing the pool area and over to the lift. It seemed to take an age to arrive, and then almost as long to reach the fifth floor.

Barbara rang their doorbell.

"Don't you have a key?"

She shook her head.

It was a while before anyone answered. Simon appeared, dressed in a pair brief Speedos and a toweling dressing gown. I couldn't help but notice, as his gown flopped open, that his cock was in a state of semi arousal.

I scanned the apartment for Sally, but couldn't see her anywhere. I drifted out on to the balcony, but she wasn't there, only two sun loungers, three empty bottles of wine, and two empty wine glasses.

Just then I heard her voice. She was talking to Barbara in the kitchen. She must have come from one of the other rooms, I guessed. It was clear that she had been on the receiving end of much of the wine from those three bottles, and the way her bikini was fitting her looked like she'd thrown it on in a hurry. A tiny white bikini, leaving little to the imagination, was one I hadn't seen her in before. It had the decorative 'S' logo in black over her left breast.

It took a while to say our good buys, but eventually I dragged her out of their apartment and back to our own. I tried to ask her how long she had been alone with Simon, and why she had gotten so drunk, and what the hell had she been doing. But she wasn't making any coherent sense, and so I tried putting her to bed. But she wasn't having any of it and breezed out on to the balcony, saying she wanted to taste the evening air.

I fetched a couple of glasses of cold juice from the kitchen, and handed one to her. She was stood with her back to me, leaning on to the balcony railing and staring up into the sky. Suddenly I realised she had her hand down the front of her bikini bottoms, and was masturbating furiously. She turned and stared into my eyes with a look of hunger I'd never seen before. In a moment she was all over me, kissing me deeply, and pushing me back on the sun lounger. The drinks went flying, the glass smashing on the floor. The normally obsessive Sally would usually have stopped, cursed, and set about cleaning it up. But this time she ignored the mess and pulled down my shorts, gathering my limp cock in her mouth. I lay back on the lounger and groaned in pleasure. If hot weather and alcohol were going to turn my wife into a nymphomaniac, then so be it.

I was bucking away and quickly ready to cum. Sally must have sensed this, for she slowed her assault on me, and stopped. She straddled me, pulling her bikini bottoms to one side, and in one deft movement slid my shaft inside her. She was so very very wet, and my hardness met no resistance, sliding all the way in with ease. I watched her riding me, her hips rocking away rhythmically, her mouth open, head back, staring up into the sky.

This was amazing. Truly out of character for her, a complete and almost sudden transformation.

My hands rose to cup her breasts, which I knew she loved. But she pushed my hands and arms down by my side. Cupping her own breasts, her hands slid underneath her bikini, as she rolled her nipples between thumb and finger. Then she was reaching round behind her, and whipped off her bikini top. I gasped, as I knew her top half could probably be seen, should there be anyone watching from an apartment higher then ours. Again I tried to take her breasts in my hand, but she slapped me away, as if she didn't want my hands to be seen. Whimpering noises escaped from her lips, as she ground in to me, and pummelled her own tits. I knew I couldn't last much longer, and grabbed her hips, pulling her on to me. Her hands glided up over the sweating skin of her chest, across her cheeks, and up the sides of her head, running them through that gorgeous hair. Her pendulous double E mammories bounced away as we fucked, and she continued staring out over the balcony, like she was fixated by something high above us.

I came, quickly, and quietly. And as I came down from orgasm, I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, kiss her, and thank her. But the look she gave me was deflating, and acidic.

She rolled off me and headed to the shower.

"Oh, shit," I cursed to myself, wondering how the hell I was supposed to have lasted any longer and given her satisfaction.

The next day, I decided to spend some time with her. She wanted to be at the poolside, so I joined her for the morning. We had lunch at a little cafe on the beach, and then back to our apartment for a siesta.

Sally told me it was my turn to make dinner, and sent me off to the supermarket with a substantial shopping list. It was whilst I was trying to decipher the Spanish meat counter, that I bumped into Barbara. She explained at great length about the Paella she would be making. I kept glancing around for Simon, but it was evident that she was on her own.

Barbara asked me to help her carry some of her bags back to her apartment. By the time I had sweated the half hour walk in the evening heat, and I dumped the heavy bags in her kitchen, my arms were busting.

"I'll fix you a cocktail, Harry."

I wandered out on to the balcony. It was getting late, the sun had just about set, and the lights around the poolside were glowing. I scanned the opposite apartments, and thought I could spot ours. Was there movement on our balcony? Was that a pair of man's buttocks heaving up and down on a sun lounger?

It came to me too slowly that Simon had not been in their apartment when Barbara and I had arrived with the shopping. I leapt back in to the living room, looking for signs of him. In the kitchen, Barbara was mixing a cocktail. I made an excuse to visit the bathroom, but he wasn't there either. Passing back through the living room, on my way to check the bedroom, I heard a cry from outside. I dashed to the balcony and stared down toward our apartment. There it was again. A woman's cry, or was it more of a loud moan? A slow, steady, rhythmical moan of sexual pleasure. It was too dark to see anything clearly, and I figured my eyes would be playing tricks with me anyway. And it was impossible to locate the source of the moan, which could have been coming from any of the dozen apartments across the way.

I jumped back in to the kitchen, where Barbara was still messing with the cocktail shaker.

"So, where's Simon this evening?" I asked.

Barbara looked quizzically at me. "He's been out most of the day, I think. He'll probably be along anytime."

I pulled my mobile from my pocket and dialed Sally's number. It went to voicemail. I sent her a text: 'Hi babe. Be home in 5. Ring me.'

"Harry, where are you going? You haven't had your cocktail!"

But I wasn't interested in cocktails. The lift was ages in coming. I took the stairs instead, three at a time. Halfway down I rang Sally's number again: 'Hi this is Sally. If you want to leave me a message, that's cool.'

I sprinted out the bottom of the door, and across the space between the two blocks. The woman's moans had turned to distinct screams, almost as though she were in pain.

The outer door to the block was locked. I rattled the handle several times, banged hard on the door, and stared at my watch. It was ten past nine. I pressed the buzzer to our apartment, and waited for what seemed liken age. I pressed it again, harder, and longer.

Like an idiot, I realised I had the key with me. I scrambled the pocket of my shorts for the keys, and spent the next minute in the dim light trying to figure out which of the several weird shaped keys fitted the lock. After that I was inside, and leaping the stairs to the first floor.

As I reached our floor, I noticed the lift door closing. The door to our apartment was locked, and I wasted another few seconds with another weird shaped key and the lock. Finally I was in, and I covered the ground to the balcony in a heartbeat.

The loungers where there just as they had been earlier, but there was no Sally, and more importantly, no Simon. My blood pressure dropped several points. But I leaned over the balcony side to listen. There was no more sounds of sexual pleasure. Whoever it was, and evidently finished having a good time.

I heard sounds of the shower running. My pulse suddenly went up again, and I crept to the bathroom. I threw the door open.

"Jesus fucking christ! You scared the shit out of me you dozy prick!" Sally's naked body was covered head to toe in foamy soap. But at least it was her naked body, and nobody else.

"Sorry," I said, feeling slightly like a jerk. The tension inside me, and the sight of soapy tits and warm water cascading over her lovely flesh, gave rise inside my shorts. I dropped them and stepped into the shower with her.

"You think you can have your way with me after scaring me like that, you shit?"

I laughed and grabbed her round the waist, pulling her to me, squashing her foamy covered boobs. It was then I felt the thin metal around her waist. "What's this?" It had been covered in suds before. A tiny, thin gold chain was around her waist, just above her hips. It fitted tightly around the thinest part of her, and I could barely get my fingers between it and her skin. "Wow. It's very sexy."

"Well, I am a very sexy woman." She turned her back to me.

"I know. I know." I couldn't take my hands off her, and reached round to cup her breasts, burying my face in her neck.

She turned back to face me, letting the water run down her back, rinsing off the remaining soap. That's when I spotted the metal tag in the shape of an 'S' fixed to the chain. I took hold of it with my thumb and forefinger, turning it over and over. Two tiny diamond-like jewels were set at the end of each of the 'S' and they sparkled under the low voltage lighting.

"How do you take it off?" I asked.

"What?"

"Well, there's no clasp or fastener. I'm not sure how you take it off. How did you get it on?" My mind was racing. She hadn't had it on this morning. She hadn't been anywhere to buy it, and had been with me, most of the day.

"Erm..." she started pulling the chain around her body, inspecting each link. "I don't know." She sounded confused.

"What's with this 'S' logo anyway. It's everywhere. And this looks bespoke. Really expensive. How much was it?" I knew as soon as I opened my mouth, that this was exactly the wrong thing to say. Sally sometimes blew money on an expensive pair of shoes, a handbag, or randomly decorating a room in the house that didn't need doing. And I usually worried about they money to the extent that it ruined the experience for her.

But this time she just shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not." But it did to me. We weren't made of money, the holiday had maxed us out on savings and credit. And then another thought hit me. "Did he buy it for you?"

"What?"

"Him. Simon. Did he buy it for you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Well he could afford it."

"Oh, Harry. Are you jealous?" She reached round and put her hands behind my neck, blocking my view of her chain.

"No, I'm just curious, that's all." Her hips ground into mine, and she stroked the back of my neck. My semi became a fully.

She sighed. "You're so predictable, Harry." Dropping to her knees she took me instantly in her mouth. Her hand cupped my sac, while the other dugs its claws in to my belly. Deep she took me, my head pressing the back of her mouth, while her tongue wrapped itself tightly along my shaft.

"Hugh...you...ohh..." but I couldn't get the words out. Couldn't tell her that it was so good. That she'd never given head like this before. And then I spent myself down her throat, holding the back of her head as I orgasmed greedily.

I slept well that night, and was woken by the heat of the morning sun as it burst through the glass.

Sally was already up, having eaten breakfast, and slipped her body in to that tiny white bikini.

"I'll join you if you wait a few minutes," I said.

"What about all your reports, Harry?" I must have hesitated. "Do what you like. I'll be down at the pool."

I grabbed some coffee and toast, jumped into my swimming shorts' and grabbed a towel. Down at the poolside, Barbara and Simon were on sunloungers, one either side of Sally. Other sun worshipers had already taken their places around the pool, and there were no loungers left for me to sit on. In spread my towel out on the grass and lay at Sally's feet.

The three of them chatted away about property prices, estate agency fees, rental agreements, and maintenance fees. I couldn't really get a word in edgeways, and hadn't much to contribute to the discussion. And I was receiving messages on my phone from my boss; that first report wasn't detailed enough, more figures were needed, and why was I behind with the other reports? I was trying to ignore the beeps and flashes from my phone, when I realised that Barbara was wearing a bikini almost identical to Sally's. Barbara was shorter, older, and didn't have the same curvaceous figure as Sally, but the cut, style and briefness of her bikini was the same, only black. The 'S' logo was white on black, whereas Sally's was black on white.

I then noticed the chain around Barbara's waist. The same deep gold, with a diamond encrusted 'S' dangling from the chain, and currently nestling in Barbara's navel. Thinking back, I'd noticed Barbara wearing it before, but it was so tiny, delicate, and discrete, and it fitted her waist so naturally, that you could have thought it was part of her.

"Harry, are you going to answer that?" Sally was cross at the constant beeping of my phone.

"Yes, yes, yes." I was annoyed as she was. Giving my apologies, I reluctantly headed back up to the apartment, my laptop, and the mountain of reporting I still had to do.

My phone kept beeping throughout the morning. I ignored it, focusing on the lengthy re-run of the report I had to do for my boss. By lunchtime I'd completed it and e-mailed it back to him along with the spreadsheets and other attachments.

Taking a cold beer on to the balcony, I noticed that Sally, Simon, and Barbara had left the poolside. I figured they had gone up to Simon and Barbara's apartment for lunch. A nervous twang gripped my insides, so I made my way up to their apartment. After several knocks without answer, I went back down to the pool. When there was no sign of them, I walked round the block a few times. I figured they couldn't have gone far, as Sally was wearing just her white bikini and flip flops.

Back in our apartment I sat down on the sofa, when my phone beeped again. Several unread texts were waiting, the most recent from my boss thanking me for the report and asking where the next one was. There were several other messages from my boss, his secretary and my opposite number at work, and one from Sally that had been sent to me mid morning:

-Gone out on their boat. Back later

My mouth went dry, and my pulse suddenly rose. I felt my heart beating, trying to burst out of my chest. I stumbled round the apartment in a daze, clutching my phone, when it beeped again. I stared at the screen. A text message from an unknown number. I opened the message, which said:

-Taken your wife away. You don't mind.

There was a picture attached of Sally stood on the deck of a boat with the sea and horizon in the background. She was holding a drink and laughing at the camera as she tried to hold her long hair out of her eyes, as the wind whipped it around. Sally was wearing that four-figure price tag white linen dress that she had looked at earlier in the week, only this one had an embroidered black 'S' logo over her left breast.

My phone beeped again, with another picture of Sally in the dress. This time she was side-on, with the sunlight behind the camera and shining through the translucent material, revealing that she wore nothing other than the dress. The text accompanying the picture said:

- I bought this. It looks good.

I gripped my phone tightly, trying to crush it, as it beeped again. This time the pic was of Sally and Barbara together. They were stood together on the boat with their arms around each others waists. Both were wearing identical mini-bikinis with a black right breast, and a white left breast with the black 'S' logo. The tiny strip of material that passed for the bikini bottoms was black on the right and white on the left, and was narrow enough to show that both women were smoothly shaven, yet wide enough to create a breathtaking camel-toe. The strings holding them in place were black on Barbara and white on Sally. Both continued to wear their chains around their waist.

Another beep and another picture, this time of the two women again with their arms around each other, this time with their backs to the camera, and looking behind over their shoulders and smiling sexily at the photographer. The bikini strings appeared out of the top of their buttock cracks before joining a pointless tiny triangle of material held to the waistband.

A fifth picture showing the two ladies side-on, facing each other, with their foreheads touching, hands on each others hips. It was a wonderfully erotic photo, and one that began to start a swelling in me, until I read the accompanying text:

-My beautiful wives

In a rage I deleted the texts, and threw my phone across the room. I headed out of the apartment, not stopping to lock the door, and ran down to the marina. There was no sign of Simon and Barbara's boat, and I ran along the jetty to see if I could see it. I started asking locals if they had seen a boat with a man and two women on board. They asked me the name of the boat, and like a fool I had no idea.

I looked towards the cafes and bars, and decided I'd stop, cool down, and make a phone call to Sally. Only then did I realise I'd left my phone back at the apartment. If Sally were trying to contact me, to ask me to come and get her, I wouldn't be able to answer. In a panic, I sprinted back to the apartment. The building was locked, I had no key, and no ID. It took a good half hour before I finally convinced someone to let me in. By the time I reached our apartment, I was in a total mess.

There were no more picture messages, thank God, just another series of texts from my boss, and one of our customers, asking for a further breakdown on some supplies that we'd provided. I could feel my heart thumping inside my chest, and my breathing was out of control. Half my mind was doing cartwheels about reports, data, and how I might be able to access our company accounts database remotely.

I called Sally's number, but it went straight to voicemail. I called again, and then again. Then I sent a series of texts, demanding to know where she was, telling her to come home straight away, and them pleading with her to come back, that I loved her, and I missed her.

But all I could think about was Sally in a bikini on Simon's boat. What the fuck was she thinking? The man was surely trying to seduce her, getting her drunk, massaging her, and buying her expensive shit!

I discovered a bottle of cheap Scotch in the kitchen, and set about using it for medicinal purposes. I'd drunk maybe a quarter of it, when my phone beeped, again from an unknown number:

-Channel 6969

What the fuck did that mean? My mind spun for a while, lubricated by the Scotch. I pored another and wandered out on to the balcony, wondering if I should call the Police. But this wasn't a missing person. The message from Sally stated that she had gone with them voluntarily. I would just have to trust her, and believe that she would come back to me safe and sound.

I turned on the TV, trying to find something to take my mind of the situation. My fingers played across the keypad of the remote control. And I found myself pressing '6969.'

An image of a sexy girl in a black and white bikini steering a boat, popped up in front of me. She was holding the wheel of the boat and moving it slowly side to side. Through the windscreen of the boat I could see blue sea and blue sky with a wide horizon. The camera had been set up at the rear of the boat on the right hand side, about head high, and facing toward the front.

Suddenly Simon appeared, dressed in white speedos. He walked over to the girl who I now recognised as Sally. Standing behind her, he slipped his hands on to her shoulders, sliding them down her arms, before coming to rest on her hands as she held the wheel. He bent down and said something to her. She turned her face to the side, smiling and replied. I turned up the sound, but all I could hear was the sound of the engine, and the occasional crash of a wave on the side of the boat.

He gripped her hands firmly as if to indicate she must keep them there to steady the direction of the boat. He ran his hands back up her arms, stopping at her shoulders to caress them gently. Slowly his hands dropped over her back, her sides, and round the front of her belly, where I lost site of them. His face nuzzled close to her neck, as he squeezed her tight. There was no way of telling what his hands were doing, but suddenly one of her hands left the wheel, dropping down to the front of her bikini bottoms. I saw him look to the side, before biting the side of her neck. Biting and kissing his way across the back of her neck, and round the other side, I watched in fury as he continued his seduction of my wife.

Surely now Sally would say something to him. Wouldn't her sense of honestly, faithfullness, marriage, and motherhood kick in? Wouldn't she tell him politely to stop, that she was married, and that he should turn the boat around and take her back to her husband?

Sally's head went back, her neck resting on his shoulder. From the angle of the camera, I could see her eyes were closed and her mouth open. His leg had moved between hers, and somehow he had lifted her slightly. Her legs parted, and I could see his hand below the band of her bikini.

I felt my erection straining at my shorts, and dropped them to the floor. I'd fantasised about displaying my wife, of showing her off. But now, here was a man who had practically told me, no, warned me, that he was going to buy my wife. I'd been powerless to stop him. And here he was, beaming the whole episode blatantly back at me.

Sally's hips were thrusting gently back and forth, and I knew his other hand was taking her precious orbs into his control. He had located her 'on' switch, and was now turning the dial to maximum.

I saw him take the throttle, and ease it back. The boat started to glide to a stop.

Then, taking her hand, he opened the door to the galley and led her below. The last thing I saw of my wife was the back of her head as he guided her into the bedroom beyond. For a split second the face of her seducer glanced at the camera, smiling in triumph, before he closed the door.

The boat had come to a stop, drifting who knows where. The camera stayed on, for hours, as if to tell me that he had my wife, and was taking more control of her with every passing second.

I drank myself into a stupor, collapsing on the sofa.

It was dark when I woke. Channel 6969 was still broadcasting. The boat was in port, tied up somewhere. But where. Down by the jetty! I recognised one of the neon signs flashing away above one if the bars.

I threw water over my face, then some down my throat. I checked up at Simon and Barbara's apartment, but there were no lights on. I threw on my shorts, grabbed the nearest scruffy t shirt, thrust my phone in my pocket, and ran out into the night.

Down at the port my phone beeped. I grabbed it, praying it was Sally's number. But it wasn't. It was just another picture message from the unknown number. The picture was of Sally, with her hair piled on top of her head in a way I'd never seen before. Her makeup was dark, with bright red lips, huge eyelashes, and accentuated cheek bones. The black halter-neck dress she wore barely covered her breasts. The front V dived down to her belly button, displaying the undersides of her braless breasts. And over her left breast was a gold 'S'.

The phone beeped again. Another picture message of Sally next to Barbara who wore an identical dress, with identical hair and makeup. And then a third picture, of the two girls with Simon, dressed in an expensive dinner jacket and tie, stood between them. Each woman had one of his arms through theirs, and they stood outside a nightclub ready to enter.

I showed the picture to one of the locals, who pointed the way down the jetty. The queue for the club was long, and the bouncers completely uninterested in a scruffy tourist who was not on the guest list.

I tried to explain that my wife was inside, and that I needed to get to her in a hurry. But a beefy hand was placed firmly in the middle of my chest. I'm not sure what Spanish is for "Fuck off" but I think that's what he said.

Desperation got the better of me, and as soon as he turned his back, I darted round him and raced up to the door. I sprinted full pelt at the second bouncer. I was going too quickly for him, and he missed his tackle. I found myself in the lobby, being stared at by three bouncers, each the size of a small-silver back gorilla.

It didn't actually need three of them to throw me out, but I guess it was easier for them, and with complete disregard for any health and safety regulations, I sailed through the air to land on the pavement beside the queue of would-be clubbers.

My humiliation complete, I collected my thoughts, and staggered back up the road. The pain I had just sustained helped me to think more clearly. I decided, quite logically, that there was nothing more I could do, and that I would have to go home, and do the hardest thing: wait.

Tomorrow was another day, and I would face Sally in the cold light of the Spanish morning. I rationalised that although I had not actually seen her be unfaithful, some of the evidence was pretty damming. She would be in deep shit, and had one hell of a lot of explaining to do.

On my way home, I passed Simon's boat. I snuck aboard and had a good rummage about. The door to the galley and the cabin beyond was firmly locked. I sat on the back seat of the boat, where I imagined the camera had been. There was a sturdy stainless steel pole at the back, which could quite easily accommodate a small digital camera. There was an array of antennae, some high gain, some directional, which could easily have transmitted a signal. There was a satellite dish, that could have connected to the internet.

And there was a hatch in the floor. I lifted this off to reveal the engine, various electronics, fuses, relay boards, and the fuel tank. I spent some time here, before heading home.

I awoke the next morning with the mother and father of all hangovers. Sally was asleep beside me, naked, and looking like the hooker she'd looked like last night.

I couldn't face breakfast, so I went for a long run, leaving her to sober up, wake up, and begin her confession. I ran down to the beach and along the waterfront, the cold sea helping to wake and revive me. I sipped coffee from a little café, and then ran back to the apartment.

Sally was sat on the balcony, her little wrap around her, talking on her phone. She looked up sheepishly as I entered, said something hurriedly, and hung up.

"Have a good time yesterday?" I asked.

"Yes. Thanks."

"What did you get up to?" I wanted to see if she would spill the beans, to see if she could either explain some of the things I'd seen, or confess at her indiscretion.

The conversation developed rapidly from an exchange of accusations to a full blown row of nuclear proportions. I told her that I was embarrassed at what she'd been doing with Simon, that she had allowed him to get her drunk, buy her expensive things that I couldn't possibly afford, and then seduce her on his boat.

She screamed back that she couldn't stand my jealously, that I was too wrapped up in my work to notice her, and that when I did notice her I wasn't able to keep my focus for long enough for her.

I showed her the pictures I had been sent, of her dressed like a prostitute, ready to go into a nightclub on Simon's arm without her husband.

She told me that it was a designer dress than cost two grand, that the Club was the most exclusive on the coast, and if I had been there I would have been able to network and maybe secure a higher paid job.

Yelling back at her, I told her that I would loved to have been able to come, but I hadn't been invited. I said I'd seen TV footage of her in a bikini on Simon's boat, with her dry humping his leg, and then going down into the cabin with with him for several hours.

She tried to deny this, but made a poor job of it, collapsing in to a confused, contrary argument that showed she was completely muddled by by what I had said. She told me I was paranoid, and that the idea of being on TV was completely ridiculous. I tried to get her to admit that she was being seduced, but she genuinely couldn't see it as anything as just "Simon and Barbara being friendly."

It all ended with her storming out of the apartment. I should have gone after her, I guess. But instead I just moped about for a while, trying to do some reports, and failing.

In the afternoon I tried her mobile, but there was no answer. I called up at Simon and Barbara's apartment, and Barbara answered the door.

I pleaded with her to tell me where Sally was, but she had no idea.

"Did you go out on the boat yesterday?" I asked.

"Oh yes, we had a great time," she said. "They dropped me off at the next port so I could go shopping. I love shopping, you know. That port has some lovely individual designers. Do you know, I bought..."

"So Sally and Simon went out on the boat alone!"

"In the afternoon, yes."

I sank down in a chair. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, you mustn't worry yourself," she said. "Everything's all right, isn't it."

"But Simon kept sending me photos of you and Sally in expensive clothes, and revealing bikinis."

"Oh, Simon just has his fun. He's a man. He loved having Sally and pretending he had two wives. When I was shopping, I bought these beautiful outfits for us both. We wore them that night. Sally looked stunning, you know."

I couldn't get any sense out of her. It all seemed normal to her, and she just wanted to talk about shopping, fashion, and how lovely Simon could make a woman feel. She didn't know, or couldn't tell, where either Sally or Simon was, so I left her.

I started to walk down to the port, to see if the boat was still there, feeling drained and exhausted. As I reached the port Sally's phone rang.

"Hi," I said glumly.

"Hello, Harry." It was Simon.

"What are you doing with Sally's phone?"

"I thought I'd give you a call. For a chat."

"Where's Sally?"

"Not far away."

"Put her on. I want to speak to her."

"She's busy."

"Doing what?"

"Trying on some clothes. She has a remarkable figure, you know?"

I spotted the boat and ran toward it. The 'Amour de Nino' was the name on the back, which I would remember.

"Where are you?" I said, scanning the bars and cafes in the immediate vicinity.

"In town. Shopping. Ensuring that her beautiful body is clad in some of the finest coverings money can buy. They say money can't buy you love. But actually, that's wrong isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" I climbed aboard the boat. The door to the galley was open, with nobody aboard.

"I bought Sally."

The bedroom beyond was empty too, and I returned to the rear of the boat. "No you haven't. You've just bought her an expensive dress."

"Harry, you're quite wrong. I've bought her several expensive dresses. Ones that I'm afraid you will never be able to afford in your wildest dreams. Have you any idea how much pleasure Sally has been getting?" He let the words hang in the air, baiting me.

I stepped off the boat. "Why are you doing this, Simon?"

"I told you, Harry. Weren't you listening? I told you your wife could be bought. And I've bought her. Not just things, I could buy those anywhere anytime. But I've covered her her, surrounded her, helped her enjoy what she has never enjoyed. Given her sensations, feelings, experiences that she's never had. She's a very lucky girl, you know, Harry."

My heart was pounding and my hands dripped with sweat as I listened to him. "Put her on. I want to speak to her." But he wasn't listening to me. I could hear voices in the background. One of them was Sally's. "Sally! Sally! Can you hear me, Sally!"

And then his voice: "You look beautiful, Sally. Let me take your picture."

A few moments later, a picture arrived on my phone. A tight white dress with a split up the left side. Deep plunging neckline revealing breasts. And a silver 'S' logo over her left breast.

"Harry?" His voice again.

"What?"

"Do you like?"

"Screw you!"

There was a muffled sound, like he was putting the phone in his pocket. "Why don't you try some more, Sally? I could watch you all day. I really could. Try that see-through one again. You looked very fuckable in that...well you did...no, of course you didn't look like a tart. You're with me, and I want you to dress to impress. Now do as I say and try it on." There was a pause, and then his voice again: Harry, are you still there?"

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm taking her away for a little while. Just for a few weeks. I'll bring her back, but she may be a little...used. Perhaps not even much use to you anymore. If she decides she wants to come back, that is."

I hung up. I couldn't take any more. My blood was boiling and I refused to allow him to get away with this any longer. A plan formed in my mind. I looked at the 'Amour de Nino,' moored in a private yet unsecured spot down the jetty. In a relatively crime-free and affluent area such as this, there were no security cameras, nobody watching.

I went shopping. And just to make sure, I covered my tracks by using more than one shop.

###

Sally didn't come back to the apartment that night. I'd waited by the boat for hours, slipping back to their apartment to see if they had returned. But by dark the apartment was empty with no lights on. The cleaning lady told me they had left and that the apartment would now be empty for several months.

I ran back to the port but the 'Amour de Nino' had left.

Sleep did not come to me that night. But another bottle of Scotch did, and it enabled me to think clearly, somehow. I would speak to Sally in the morning. If she would answer. In the meantime I drank myself into oblivion.

It was afternoon by the time I woke. I picked up my phone with the intention of dialling Sally's number. But there was a single text waiting for me:

-6969

I could hardly bring myself to switch on the TV. But I knew I had to. Simon was there, laying on the bed of the cabin, naked, and reading a book. His flaccid penis lay redundant between his legs. He turned the page of the book, a cheap trashy holiday novel. He lay there for some time, and I wondered what the hell this freak was doing now.

Calling Sally's phone just produced her voicemail. I left two messages for her, telling her to call me and saying that her children were missing her. If she wouldn't come back for me, maybe should come back for them.

The vision of a naked Simon reading his book stayed on the screen for several minutes. And then, Sally came into view, dressed in nothing but a tiny red silk robe with the 'S' logo on. In her hand she had her phone, which she placed on the bedside locker. She lay on the bed beside him, rolling on to her side, her leg slightly over his. She reached out with her hand and caressed his chest, whispering something in his ear. He paid no attention, but turned another page.

Sally's hand crept lower over his chest and belly. She kissed his neck, and shoulder, before her hand reached his manhood. Gently she took it, feeling her way across its length, down under his balls, and then up again to his end.

I heard her whisper something that I couldn't hear. Then she said it again, louder: "Please, Simon." And when he still ignored her: "Simon, please, again, please!"

He looked down at her, almost annoyed. "Very well. You can start with your mouth."

Sally's head went straight for his cock.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was no longer a case of a man seducing my wife. It had gone further than him buying presents for her, or chatting her up. He had already gotten between her legs through his own subtle and experienced techniques, and had now turned the tables on her.

As she finally surfaced to display his erect cock, and then joyfully throw her leg over him to straddle him, I knew that her seduction was complete. He had been inside her, and inside her mind, making her his. Now she wanted him, begged for him.

Eagerly she took hold of his member and inserted into herself. Gasping, she drove her hips down on to his. A few gentle thrusts gained depth and she was finally able to relax on to him. Taking her robe, she dropped it daintily from her shoulders. With a smile of approval from him, she began to rock her pelvis back and forth quickly. The bed creaked in time with them, and she tilted her head back, showing her closed eyes to me. He ran his fingers over her legs, hips, and waist, touching lightly, or scratching gently.

"You are a good girl," he said.

"Yesss..." She hissed.

Her rocking built and built, increasing in depth, speeding quickly. He reached up and took a breast in each hand. She cried out: "Ohhhhhhh." His hips rose to meet hers, the slapping of flesh louder and louder before she reached the end with a final gasp. "Yeahhooohhhhhhhhhh!"

I'd never seen her orgasm so intensely, and so quickly. She collapsed forward on to him, her face in his chest. He kissed her head tenderly, and stroked her back for a few minutes. Then, leaning forward, he picked her up and lay her on the bed. Taking an arm and a leg he flipped her like a rag doll on to her front. He slipped his arm under her waist, lifting it upwards, and spreading her knees apart so that she was on all fours. Sally was facing the camera, just two or three feet away. Simon ran his hands from her hips, up her sides, and she gasped. He took hold of her long hair with one hand, and with his other prepared himself for another penetration. When he was satisfied with his alignment, he took hold of her hips and pulled back, jerking her pelvis, pulling at her hair, and thrusting his cock deep into her.

Sally screamed so loudly, I wondered at first if he had entered her asshole. She bit her hand, her eyes closed.

"Remember what I said," Simon's voice could be heard above the pounding and slapping of flesh on flesh. "You must let it out. All out. Show me how you really feel."

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggghhhhhhh!"

"Good girl." He produced an extra firm thrust.

"Ohhhh fuuuck! Goddddddd...fucccckkkk!!"

Into view came Barabra, wearing the same silk robe Sally had. Barbara kissed Sally on the head and climbed aboard the bed beside her.

"Having a nice time, dear?" she asked.

Sally still had her eyes firmly shut, and she tried to nod her head, but the intensity of Simon's thrusts and the feelings she was evidently experiencing were preventing her from communicating.

"Do you know what we're doing, Barbara?" said Simon, continuing his merciless onslaught of my wife's complicit cunt.

"Ohh, Simon. Don't tell me. Are you...?" Barbara appeared excited.

"Yess," he said, his head tilting back slightly. "We're making a baby, aren't we, Sally."

Sally's eyes suddenly shot open. "Wha?..." She shook her head twice, maybe three times.

"I'm giving you my baby, Sally. I haven't had the snip like I told you. I wanted to be sure you were both willing and between your cycles first."

"Ohhh...goddd!" Sally's face was full of panic. "Simon! Please!"

"It's already in you, Sally. How many times this week? Fifty? Sixty?" He reached forward to grab her breasts, twisting each nipple. "Here it comes, Sally."

His pace was frantic, his breathing deep.

Sally screamed, her eyes tightly closed again: "Yeeeeesssssssssss!"

"You want my baby?"

"Yeeeesssssss!"

Suddenly, he stopped. The end of his cock stroked the edge of her gates. Sally's eyes shot open, and she pushed her hips backward, searching for him. He moved slightly, teasing her, and she moved her hips, looking desperately for her stick of pleasure. He moved again, and she turned her head to see him.

"Ohhh...ohhh...ohhhh," she pleaded, an animal. A bitch in heat.

"Sally," he said slowly. "What are we doing?" She groaned in protest. "Tell me what we are doing!"

Sally bit her lip. "Making a baby!" she screamed.

"Good girl," he continued his torture of her, gently touching her clitty with his end. "But are you sure? You sure you want to make a baby?"

"Ohhhhh," she was in agony, thrusting back, wriggling into him with her pelvis. "Yess. Yesssss!"

"Yes, what?"

"Give me your baby!" screamed.

"Now?"

"Yessss! Now! Fuck me! Give me your baby!"

I didn't need to see his hips move sharply forward, her face said it all. Her eyes and mouth opened like her pussy had opened for him. He pounded her forcibly, making her scream and swear. Barbara gently stroked her head and back.

"Here it comes for you, darling, my lover. My baby...yesssss..." He exploded into her.

Sally tilted back her head and screamed at the top of her her voice: "Yeeeeesssss! Yeeeessss! Yeeeessss! Yeeeesssss!"

Their joint orgasm seemed to last for minutes, and I thought it was never going to end. Dumbfounded as to what I had just witnessed, I turned my phone over and over in my hand. I was ashamed at sporting an erection, but nobody could have failed to have been aroused at such a stupendous fuck.

Finally, they seemed to relax. He sat back, pulling her upwards, so that they were both upright and on their knees, him behind her. He bit her neck, and caressed her torso, breasts, her damp cum-filled cunny, while she gasped and placed her hands over his.

I saw the chain she wore, the unopenable gold encirclement that claimed his property. With horror, I saw the tattoo, a dark purple 'S' located directly above her shaven vaginal slit. He had marked his property.

"Get the box," he said to his wife. Barbara leaned to one side, retrieving something out of view. Simon took Sally's left hand, pulling off her gold wedding band. He threw it over his shoulder. From the box that Barbara held, he removed another gold ring, set with a large white diamond. Sally gasped as he fitted this to her ring finger.

She stared at it for a few moment, before reaching back for his head and pulling him to her for a long kiss. She fell backward first into his arms, then on to her back on his bed. She spread her legs, taking his cock in one hand, the back of his neck in her other, pulling his mouth to her breast.

I looked at my phone, and at the number of the pay-as-you go phone that was on the screen. Once more I looked at my wife, laying beneath her lover, as he entered her again, her legs wrapping around his waist. I pressed 'dial.' The TV screen flickered and went blank.

It was no surprise that the next morning's local TV news headlined the death of a local TV mogul who had died when his yacht had suddenly exploded at sea. It was believed his wife and another woman were also on board. An eye witness reported the explosion, and minutes later the yacht had sunk with all on board.

There were no survivors.

[Brainmetal]

Pregnant and Fulfilled

By Gentlemanrelish ©

Sex with my wife was always a joyous experience. She was tight in the right places, fulfilling in all the best places, and always oh so willing and able. Good looking with a great head of long auburn hair, a shapely butt and lovely long legs, meant that she often received admiring glances. Her 32e chest were the two cherries on top of an already delightful five feet two cake.

Our sex life was frequent and energetic, and she had more than enough stamina for me. Sometimes too much, and if I wasn't careful, I'd find her flirting with my friends or work collegues - not that this bothered me too much. I knew our relationship was strong, that she loved me, and often commented quite negatively about some of the men I worked with.

And then, five years after we'd started dating and four years in to our marriage, Sally fell pregnant. For three months she did nothing but throw up, and spend all day either in bed or flaked out on the sofa. She lost weight, couldn't go out, and our sex life dried up completely.

The second trimester she spent either eating like a pig or crying at the slightest thing, shutting herself away in her room, or leaving for days to be with her mother. The ultrasound showing us a pair of twins was a shock.

By the time her third trimester started, she had began to bulge and fill out. At first, the loss of her hourglass figure frequently reduced her to tears. But after a while she seemed to become used to the idea, and gradually relaxed into a very large, heavy pregnancy.

Needless to say our sex life had been non existent up to this point. I had still wanted it, but she'd been too sick or depressed to want it. Now her libido had returned in force, we found it difficult to be together because of the round bump that was getting bigger and bigger by the day. The missionary position was out of the question. Sitting on top just made her exhausted, as did doggy. And spooning was, well, I just couldn't seem to manage sufficient penetration.

Sally became frustrated and took to buying a variety of toys and vibrators off the internet, non of which truely satisfied her.

It was her mother who suggested we take some time off to make a trip to the sun. "Harry, it will be good for you both. A tonic. Sally, needs looking after you know."

"Yes, mother."

Sally couldn't fly, so I booked train tickets, a good hotel on a beach near Naples, and off we set.

It was the middle of summer, and although our the cabin in our train was air conditioned, the journey was rough for Sally. Once we'd arrived at the hotel, she rested for two days before she felt like venturing out.

We spent a lot of time by the pool, relaxing, reading, and generally being quiet. Sally's white bikini barely covered her breasts, which had grown so magnificently. She wore a range of wraps and silky sarongs that emphasised her curves and bumps, and provided me with hardons galore. I was having to provide self relief for myself numerous times a day at this point. Sally, I noted, was abstaining completely.

By the end of the forth day, I'd convinced her that we should go out for a meal. I left her by the pool and wandered in to town looking for a suitable restaurant that would be near enough for her to walk, and had a range of foods that she might like. The town was littered with bars, clubs, cafes, tavernas and restaurant, and I was a good four hours before I got back to the hotel.

Sally was out laying in the sun, chatting with Edmondo, one of the tall local Italian lads who worked at the hotel doing everything from room service and carrying bags, to bar and restaurant work, and now poolside attendant. He was sat close to Sally and making her laugh.

I headed up to our room to loose my clothes and gain my trunks. Peering over the edge of the balcony I could see Sally and Edmondo by the pool. He had moved her sun lounger away from a line of shade that was advancing, and was helping her to lie back down. The babies were so heavy now that she had difficulty just sitting let alone lying down, and once she was flat found it almost impossible to get up again without help. Edmondo was evidently a gentleman.

I saw him pick up the bottle of suntan lotion and began rubbing it in to Sally's back, as she perched on the edge of the sun lounger. He seemed to spend considerably longer than he probably should have, before reaching round her neck and legs and helping her to lie back. Sitting on the edge of the lounger, he picked up a leg and, resting her heel in his crotch, began to work suntan lotion into her leg.

It was at this point that I grabbed my towel and headed swiftly for the lift. It was some time in coming, and I could feel my self getting more pissed-off by the minute. The fucking hotel manager would hear about this, and I'd make sure Mr Edmondo didn't bloody work in this bloody hotel again.

But by the time I reached Sally's sun lounger, the two of them were having a good laugh at something. I was momentarily confused, as I'd assumed that the assault on my wife's body would have caused her some discomfort. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up, said something to her, and trotted off.

"What was he after?" I snarled.

"Edmondo's been really helpful. I'm like a beached whale here, going dry in the sun. Did you find somewhere to eat, Harry? I'm starving. Is it far to walk?"

Of course it took her about two hours to get ready. The walk to the restaurant took us another half hour, and she complained that her legs were too swollen to walk this far.

"I look like a total freak," she said. "This bloody dress doesn't fit me right. I should never have brought it, Harry. Nothing fits me right."

She chuntered on about shoes and clothes all evening, complaining that the hotel had a better restaurant without such a walk.

On the way home she complained about back ache and cramp in her calves. We stopped a few times, and I tried rubbing her back and massaging her legs. She was perched on a wall, with me trying to squeeze one of her sandals back on to a foot that really was surprisingly swollen, when Edmondo appeared out of nowhere.

He said something to us in Italian, but I couldn't understand. Sally replied, and I looked up startled. I wanted to ask her when the hell she had learnt the lingo, but couldn't get in a word edgeways. And before I could say anything, Eduardo had picked her up and was carrying her up the road towards the hotel.

I stared after them for a minute, not quite believing what had just happened, before I chased after them.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Edmondo said he'd carry me back to the hotel."

"So I see."

My amorous advances in bed that night were rejected on the ground of "not feeling sexy any more" and having backache. I didn't feel inclined to argue, and let my bottle of red wine I'd had with my meal drift me off to sleep.

Sally was still sound asleep when I woke, and I decided to go for a run along the sea front. The shops were closed still, and the cafes were just opening for breakfast. I stopped for a coffee and to read the English paper before I headed back to the room.

Of course I wasn't expecting Edmondo to be there. Turns out he was a chamber maid too, and was making the bed. Sally was sat on the edge of the chair in her nightie, with more or less everything on show.

Eduardo finished smoothing over the sheets and left quietly.

Before I could say anything, Sally piped up. "Harry, I want to go shopping."

"But I thought you had swollen feet and backache. Won't trudging round the shops make that worse?" I was confused to say the least.

"Order us a taxi for ten o'clock will you? I know exactly where I want to go. There's a designer dress shop in town who specialize in making mums-to-be look glamourous.

And that was it, I thought. Our day all mapped out. A day full of the one thing I hate most. I didn't even begin to contemplate how she knew there was such a shop in town. But, if that's what Sally wanted to make her feel better about herself.

The shop, or rather boutique, was one of those where you sit down, get given a glass of champagne, and they bring the clothes to you. Sally ignored me when I commented something about alcohol and pregnancy. And so I sat there for two hours whilst they brought out materials, dresses, manakin dummies and a whole host of other stuff that didn't make sense to me. Then she was taken away to be measured. And then brought back.

"We can go now," she mused.

"What, after all that and you haven't bought anything?"

She laughed and led me out of the shop and into a cafe, where we spend the next half hour more or less silently in out own thoughts.

I ordered a taxi and we headed back to the hotel, with me in fumes.

I was so pissed off with her, that I didn't even bother to see her up to our room. I told the taxi driver to take me to the nearby golf course, where I spent the next two hours relieving my anger on the driving range.

When I got back to our hotel room Sally wasn't there. I peered over the balcony and saw her floating on her back in the pool, with Edmondo stood beside her supporting her in the water. I could imagine his hands underneath the water and what bits of my wife they might be in contact with. I started at them for several minutes, apoplectic with rage, but quite uncertain what to do. By the time I'd calmed down, drank a bottle of beer from the mini bar, put on my swimming trunks and got down to the pool, Edmondo had disappeared and Sally was alone on the sun lounger.

"Been having a good time?" There was nothing that I wanted to do to hide the sarcasm.

"Yes, actually." Equally acidic. "Edmondo has been helping me in the pool." She wasn't even going to deny it. "He said that my back might be better if I could take some weight off it. I might try it again later on."

I was kind of floored by that. I'd been a bit of shit, putting my own feelings before hers. Sure, if she wanted to spend hours in a shop and not actually buy anything, then why shouldn't she? She was having a hard time of it. We both were. And that's why we'd come all the way out here. And just now, when I should have been thinking of her, some other bloke comes in, thinks of a great idea to help her, and helps himself in the process.

I muttered a lame apology, and paid another visit to the bar, ordering a bottle of beer and an iced mineral water for her.

"Help me up will you." She was well and truly beached, and I had to put my arms around her neck to help her sit up so she could sip her drink.

We didn't speak much, and I must have dozed off. The sun had moved behind the hotel and it had become cooler. Sally was sitting on the pool edge, dangling her legs over the side and into the water as she chatted to Edmondo, who was cleaning leaves out of the pool.

Back in our room we were getting ready to go out for an evening meal.

"Edmondo says the hotel restaurant on the sea front serves some great rice dishes," she told me. "He says he will reserve us a table."

I shrugged, indicating that I didn't object. Maybe there was some advantage to Sally being able to speak the lingo.

There was a knock on the door, which Sally answered, and came through into the bedroom carrying a large box, which she laid on the bed.

"What's that?" I peered in to the box as she removed layers of pink tissue paper. Sally pulled out a small black strappy dress, that she help to the light.

Smiling weakly at me she said, "This is what I bought this afternoon. Edmondo told me to go there.They had to make quite a few alterations as my shape is well...bigger than most pregnant women they get coming in for evening dresses. It cost quite a lot, but after all, this is why we came here, isn't it. You can call them with our credit card details in the morning. That is, if it fits." She giggled and dropped her bath robe, revealing nothing but a tiny black g-string. I'd not seen her wear that before, and it looked incredible. She slipped the dress over her head, and positioned her breasts, so that the underwires were in place, and the material clung to the small amount of skin it covered.

I tried to tell her that she looked great. Hot, in fact. But I'm not sure she heard me, or was too busy examining the fit in the mirror. She tied the stings around her neck, which pushed up her boobs and stretched the slightly elastic material even tighter. I could clearly see the side of her breast, and the nipple that was reaching out. The deep 'V' plunged toward her naval, and opened out at her round belly. The back came even lower The hem came to just below her knees and was split to her waist at either side, providing a glimpse of the ties of her g-string.

"I should put on stockings really, but I don't think I could get down that far. Anyway, it's too bloody hot."

She made me slip her sandals on to her feet. "No so tight. Can't you tell my feet are swollen up?"

"Sorry, honey."

The restaurant was just beyond the hotel pool and down some steps, right on the sea front. We'd not discovered this area yet, with its bars and clubs stretching either way along the beach.

Our table was just inside the shade of a canopy, and with a fantastic view of the sun setting over the horizon.

"Ooooh, this is lovely." Sally appeared to be loosening up a little. She ordered a white wine spritzer, and I had to bit my tongue. "Don't worry. I'm not going to get pissed."

We chatted about mundane matters, the house, work, the garden, and what was left to do to the nursery. Sally's appetite was huge, and she was putting away more food than me. Desert had arrived when there was a shout over my shoulder.

"Harry! Bloody hell, it's Harry."

I turned to find a group of guys in shorts and polo shirts gathered around.

"Hey, Paul. How are you? What brings you here?" I said, shaking hands with the guys I knew from various companies I do business with from time to time.

"We're all at the Telemec exhibition in town. I'm surprised we haven't see you."

"Oh no, I couldn't afford the entry."

"Well shit, we can get you in for free. Our party has a spare ticket we never used."

"Thanks, but I'm here with my wife. We're on holiday."

Paul and the guys were already staring at Sally, probably trying not to imagine her tits falling out, or to comment how fuckable she looked.

I introduced them to her, and she graciously gave each one a kiss. The guys had already eaten, but took a table near us, and ordered a round of drinks. Sally and I finished desert and coffee, when Paul asked if I was coming out for a smoke.

"Go on, go on." Sally waved me away. "I don't want to hear you talk about work."

I chatted with the lads for a while, smoking a cigar and drinking Jack Daniels. They were trying to convince me to join them in the exhibition, as there were several deals going on which they needed my advice. I said I'd think about it, and took ordered for another round of drinks.

Sally had taken a seat at the bar, and was chatting to the barman. I bought her a mineral water, and asked if she was ok, and did she want to head back to the room.

"I'm just fine." She seemed a little slurred. I sniffed her drink when she wasn't looking, but it didn't smell like it had alcohol in it.

Returning to the guys, I positioned myself so that I could keep an eye on her. The conversation returned to the exhibition and the conference and seminars. They were offereing to pay me a fee for my time, and quite a nice fat one at that. It would just about cover our two weeks in the sun.

Sally was still at the bar, but this time she had been joined by Edmondo, who was sat on a stool next to her, and had his arm on her back. I tried to make my excuses to the lads, but they kept me talking, asking questions and what my opinion was about some of the things they'd seen at the exhibition.

Another round of drinks was bought, and by the time I'd finished mine I noticed that Sally had left. For a moment I presumed she'd gone back up to her room. But then, looking around the restaurant, I could see that Edmondo wasn't there either. I was firm with the guys, and made a hurried exit, sprinting up the stairs, past the pool to the hotel elevator. It took ages to arrive, and stopped at nearly every floor before ours. I burst out of the lift and ran along the corridor, fumbling with the key card, and shoved open the door.

The room was dark and quiet. I flicked on all the lights. The room was empty. I walked out on to the balcony, and it was only then that I realised Sally hadn't taken her keycard anyway. I burst out laughing, and helped myself to another beer from the minibar. I sipped it thoughtfully on the balcony, wondering where she had gone. Should I stay here and wait for her, or go looking.

I couldn't just sit there like a lemon, so I headed back to the restaurant. I asked the barman and the waiter if they had seen Sally, but neither of them were able to say where she might have gone. I jogged along the edge of the sea front, peering in to the bars and clubs where I could. I reached the end before I turned round and ran the whole mile of bright lights, music, shops, and eating places. I reached the other end, spent, exhausted, and not a little concerned.

Breathless, hot and sweating, I made my way back along the sea front, anxiously staring through windows and doorways. I'd almost arrived back at the restaurant, when it occurred to me to look on the beech. It was almost dark, with the last glow of sunlight fading over the horizon. A thin line of palm trees ran parallel to the waters edge, and I passed through these, and strolled along the beech, scanning the waters edge, the stacked sun loungers, and beech huts.

Two figures were strolling along the waters edge. One was tall and broad. The other was small and pregnant. She had her arm in his, and they started to make their way back up the beech towards the bars and clubs. I ducked back in to the cover of the palm trees, watching.

She was having difficulty walking over the sand, picking up her feet, and occasionally rubbing her huge belly. They stopped and he said something to her. He picked her up and carried her over the sand. Just before they reached the palm trees, she let out a startled cry. He released her, and she started giggling, rubbing her belly. He reached out to her belly and placed a hand on it. He laughed with her. Quick as a flash he dropped to his knees and lifted the hem of her dress up above her waist, and placed an ear to her belly.

I could see him stroking the side of her hips with his hand, gently caressing the area where her G-string ran. His hands moved over her belly, his face staring up at hers. Then he lowered his face again and began to kiss her belly and sides.

She allowed this to continue for a few seconds before she said something to him in Italian. Whatever it was had no effect, and his kissing become more urgent, his hands reaching behind her, grasping her bare cheeks.

She placed her hands on his head. "Edmondo!"

He stood up, towering over her, his arms around her back, pulling her to him. He was talking gently to her in Italian, then stroking her hair softly. He took her head in both his hands and placed a kiss on her lips. He lingered for several moments before she pulled away, and admonished him in Italian. It didn't seem to deter him in the slightest, and with one hand taking the back of her head, and the other siding down around her waist, he dove in to my wife's mouth once more.

I could hear her protests and see her pushing him away, trying to break free, but he had her firmly and there was nothing she could do. His hand that had been around her waist, drifted around her front and up to her breast. His thumb and forefinger worked at her nipple, whilst the tips of his fingers expertly massaged her.

Sally's groans of protest turned to moans of pleasure. My heart sank, as I knew her wonderful breasts were a hot spot of all her erogenous zones. Her left hand dropped to his right as it continued its work on her breast. At first she tried to pull it away, but I could see that she was only making a half-hearted attempt.

His mouth worked across her face to her ear, nibbling, his tongue caressing inside, more words of Italian. His kisses moved over her neck to her collar bone and shoulders.

Her moaning became interspaced with her breathing, deep and irregular.

Suddenly, both his hands dropped below her waist, pulling up the hem of her dress. He grabbed her firmly by her bottom and lifted her into the air like a plump rag doll. Sally gasped as he walked across the sand and deposited her on top of a stack of sun loungers. The stack was just below his waist height, and he ran his hands up her thighs, under her dress.

"Edmondo. No. Per favore. Fermata."

He leaned in to her, whispering more Italian. His arms wrapped around her, pinning them to her sides. He kissed her. She kissed back. He pushed her back and she began to lie down on top of the sun lounger.

Oh shit, I thought to myself. Sally's about to be raped. I wanted to dash out from the trees, smash my fist in to Edmondo's back, kick his head into the sand. But I knew it would look utterly ridiculous, and they would know I had been watching them for some time without taking action. I knew I had to wait for Sally's scream of help. She would call out any minute.

With her lying flat on her back, and him stood over her, she was in a position of utter submission. She could hardly roll over once she was flat, and had no chance of being able to sit up. He was stood between her legs, her bare knees either side of his hips. His mouth went down on hers and they locked for several succulent minutes.

His hand moved over her belly, softly sweeping down to her tiny black panties. His fingers played over her sex and I heard a little cry escape from her. His mouth dove for her neck and bit.

"Ohhhh. Edmondo. No" His fingers pulled at the strings of her panties, and they came loose as he spoke soft Italian to her. Her exposed pussy was now at his mercy, and Sally wriggled on top of the stack of sun loungers. Little whimpers came from her as she fought to avoid being caught on his finger tip. He looked to be enjoying teasing her, as he stroked her hair, kissed her about her face and neck, and let his fingertips slide around the skin of her upper thighs, crotch, and cunnylips.

Suddenly, she came to a stop, his fingers poised, his eyes staring into her.

"Oh," she said, almost surprised. I never quite saw what he did to her next, but it simultaneously made her head snap backwards, her hips thrust up, and a sharp cry that pierced the night. She convulsed under him for about a minute as he played her clitty to perfection.

Her cry pierced the quiet of the night, and I glanced to my right, peering through the trees towards the bars and restaurants to see if anyone had heard. If they had, then nobody was coming to investigate. Possibly, a couple making love on the beech, was not entirely irregular. Either way, it was up to me to rescue Sally, as nobody else would be coming to her aid.

Edmono's hand was still between her legs, as he spoke softly to her, stroking her head, as she came down from climax. I thought that the rationality and clarity that comes to you post-orgasm would now take over, and Sally would start to be cross with him, telling him to stop what he was doing, help her up, and take her back to her husband. But from the way her hips continued to rock back and forth, I could tell she was still sexually stimulated.

Then he dropped to his knees, taking one of her legs over each of his shoulders. Slowly he kissed her along the inside of her thigh, working his way ever up.

"Oh God, no, Edmondo. No. Please don't." As he reached her pussy, his head bent up and he looked into her eyes. She looked down at him over her bulging breasts and belly, the palm of her hand pushing against his forehead. "No, please."

I couldn't see exactly what he did next to her, but she groaned loudly, and her head went back. Her back arched, she took his head in both her hands and appeared to pull his face into her crotch. He worked on her with his lips and his tongue, using his fingers on her. She bucked away on top of the stack of sunloungers, whimpering, pulling at his hair, and occasionally squeezing at her breasts through her dress.

I kept hoping that she would suddenly come to her senses, and cry out help or something. But after a few minutes of taking her to the edge of climax, Edmondo stood up and leant forward over her. I could see what she couldn't; his long, curved, erection. His jeans had dropped to the sand as he stood. Kissing her slowly around the face, they spoke to each other in Italian. Her voice was urgent, his was deep and relaxing.

Finally, he pulled her breasts clear of her dress. He took one in his mouth, and Sally let out a high pitched squeal. He took one, and then the other, working ever quickly between one globe and the other. Sally's breathing was becoming faster and she was about to cum.

And then he was stood erect between her legs. He lifted up each ankle and placed it high over his shoulder. His long pole of meat rested over her cunny and up her belly, stopping just before her belly button. Only a thin skin separated it from my unborn children.

She gasped open mouthed at the sight of his shaft. About as thick as my six inches, his must have been nine or even ten, with a smooth upward curve and a fat bulbous head. "Oh my God, Edmondo."

There were no protests from her as he pushed slowly and gently with his hips. I heard her gasp, then let out a long steady moan.

He said something to her in Italian.

"Ohgodyes. So deep. So deep. Unghhhhhh..." was all she could say.

He began a slow, steady pounding of her pelvis, his buttocks tightening with each thrust. He held her hips tightly, and pulled them forward each time. And each time she let out a loud groan: "Ohhggh. Ohhggh. Ohhggh."

It was then I noticed that he was only entering her about half his shaft. By the way her petite body was bouncing, and her large breasts wobbling, I could tell that he was already bottoming out in her. In my confused state of mind, I became concerned for her. No longer did I think about rushing out and stopping them, I was now consumed with fear that he might damage her.

His pace began to pick up, his rhythm increasing. He was uttering something over and over in Italian, making sounds that I could only just hear over the noise of slapping flesh. Sally's arms were flailing wildly about, looking for something to hold on to. Occasionally she would grab the edge of the sunlounger, then she would squeeze her breasts, or reach down to finger the top of her pussy.

There was no resistance from her. She was taking it and enjoying it. His length was completely inside her now. He would pull out its entirity, before slamming it back inside her. Four times a second I counted. Then five, and then six.

"Ohhggh..fuck...fuck me...fuck me!" she cried. "Yes...yes...yes..."

And then he came. With one huge jerk that moved the entire stack of sunloungers a foot up the beach, he thrust and held. She cried out in agony, and her pelvic and abdominal muscles spasmed. Her ankles locked round his neck. His head turned and he kissed her leg.

Collapsing forward, completely spent, he kissed her tenderly.

"Oh God, don't stop, Edmondo. Don't stop."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My cheating wife had just had the life fucked out of her by the biggest cock she had ever taken, and was now asking for more. She had allowed her barriers to be broken down slowly over the past few days, and had now, with only a token resistance, let herself be completely taken.

He had achieved a position for her that I hadn't considered. His angle had been perfect for her, her had filled her, and now, for the first time since her pregnancy, she was fullfilled.

I sat back on the sand, stunned, not knowing what to do. I watched him pull up his jeans. He lifted her off the sunlounger and placed her back on her feet. She could hardly stand and had to hold on to him. She reached up to his neck, pulling him down, forcing her tongue into his mouth, whilst her hand grabbed at his crotch in desperation.

She hadn't cum! That must be it, I thought. Like me, the big Italian stallion had cum first. She was as still horny as fuck. He had turned her on, spent his load, and now he had a handfull of sex-charged married and pregnant woman to deal with.

He broke away from her, and began leading her up the beach towards the bars.

"My panties!" She pointed to the sand where he had thrown them. Edomondo collected them, sniffed them, and with a huge grin threw them into the palm trees, saying something to her in Italian.

"What do you mean I'm not going to be needing them anymore?" she asked.

I let them get a twenty yard headstart, before I crept over to where her panties had fallen. I picked them up and smelt them deeply. Her fragrance lingered on them, and I suddenly realised I was sporting a massive erection. I looked up the beach after them. Her arm was round his waist, and I saw her hand drop and slip inside the back pocket of his jeans. For a few moments I was totally stunned. And then I rallied myself and crept quietly forward, out of the palm trees and up the beach.

I lost sight of them as they disappeared down a small alleyway between two bars. When I finally caught up with them, they were stood talking to a few Italian guys, evidently friends and colleagues of Edmondo. They had surrounded Sally and it was clear that the topic of conversation was Sally, her figure, her dress, and what had just happened on the beach.

Edmondo looked round, and I ducked behind a pillar. For a few moments I thought he might have seen me. I wasn't exactly sure why I should be hiding from them, and after a few seconds to get my brain in gear, I decided that I needed to go and challenge them both. I could be genuinely concerned about where Sally had been: where have you been; I've been worried sick; come on its time to go home.

So when I emerged from lurking behind the pillar and they had gone, my heart instantly tried to escape from my mouth. I ran down one of the small allys about fifty yards, but there was no sign of them. I retraced my steps, sprinting back to where I had been watching them, and carrying on down a wider alleyway. I spotted them heading towards a gated apartment complex that I knew to be where the hotel workers lived. Edmondo opened the gate, led Sally by the hand, and they were through.

By the time I had reached the gate, it was locked and they had disappeared.

Rattling the gate and trying to force it only produced the local security guard, who admonished me, and threatened to call the police, or so I thought. In broken Italian, I tried to explain why I needed to get into the complex, but he just pushed me away, and partially drew his baton. I backed off, but hung around the complex for a couple of hours. I walked right round the block, but there were no other entries.

Eventually I returned to our apartment, and opened a bottle of Jack Daniels.

I woke the next morning with the sun streaming through the windows, and Sally asleep next to me. She wouldn't speak to me for the remainder of the next day, and for some reason I couldn't bring myself to tell her what I'd seen.

The next day we travelled home on the train. For our evening meal she wore the black strappy dress again, and drank more than she probably should have. Back in our cabin, she was subdued, and I could tell something was up. Sitting on the edge of our bed, she flopped backwards, and lifted her knees in the air.

"Come here, Harry," she told me. "Now, lift my legs over your shoulders!"

[Brainmetal]

Mystery Girl

By Gentlemanrelish ©

We had finally secured a baby sitter who was prepared to look after a two year old and a pair of four-year old twins, so Sally and I decided to make a night of it.

When Sally succumbed to my suggestion that she should go to the fancy dress party as Princes Leia, I nearly came in my pants.

"If you're choosing what I have to wear, Harry," she said, "then I'm choosing what you have to wear." Why did I feel that victory and suddenly turned in to defeat?

So when the day of the party came, and the costumes from the costume supplier arrived, I was somewhat pissed-off at finding a huge 'Chewbacca' suit beneath the wrappers. Of course, Sally found it hugely amusing, as she took her own costume up to the bedroom to change.

The furry costume was huge, thick, and I knew straight away that I was going to boil alive. With the head on, I could barely see a thing, and movement of any kind was energy-sapping.

Sally emerged from the bedroom, and it was the only time I was glad I had the head on, as my disappointment would have been obvious. Instead of the bikini-clad slave-girl-Leia I had been expecting, Sally wore the white, silky dress that Leia had worn in the first Star Wars film.

I removed the Chewbacca head for a better look.

"You disappointed?" She could read me like a book. "Well, there was no way I was going to go in that bloody stupid bikini-thing, if that's what you had thought. Not with all your pervy mates there. Besides, don't you think I look sexy?"

She gave me a twirl, and the splits in the dress flashed her thighs beautifully. She jiggled about and her breasts bobbled under the material. Sally was only a petite five feet three, and her huge 30EE boobies were always mesmerising. I was about to check with her if she was wearing a bra, but the way her breasts moved and the glimpse of nipple under the thin nearly-translucent material, confirmed she was not. I thought twice about advising her how transparent her dress was in certain light, but decided that if she wasn't going to play fair and wear the bikini-Leia costume, then this was the next best bet.

The taxi driver who drove us to the party was most amused, and offered to pick us up.

"No, thanks," I said. "We have a minibus collecting us all at the end."

We were fashionably late, and the party had already gotten in to full swing. I was only moderately pissed off at the immediate attention Sally received from the men, but it was probably my own fault for not suggesting she go as Queen Victoria or something equally as plain.

I plodded myself off to the kitchen to get us some drinks, a task which proved very hot and very hard. When I got back to the living room, Sally had disappeared, and I found myself talking to two guys from work (Dracula, and a Catwoman). I had a few beers with them, and then got caught up with a few people I didn't know, who were debating the correct order in which to watch the Star Wars films. It' amazing just how many opinions there are on this, and even though I didn't give a rats ass, it was intriguing how they formulated their opinions.

After an hour or so of this, I drifted away back to the kitchen to top up my drink.

Sally was chatting to a guy who had his back to me. He was dressed as a native American Indian, with huge headdress of feathers, leather top, and leather loincloth. He was a little portly, which made him look slightly ridiculous, but as there was nobody at the party who was dressed sensibly, I could see how he fitted in.

She was locked in close conversation with him, smiling gently, with her eyes half-closed as she does when she's drunk more than she should. So she didn't see me enter the kitchen. As I came round the side of them, I recognised his face as being that of Dan, an old school friend of years ago.

I'd heard that he had moved back into the area, and rumour had it that he had been kicked out of his rented accommodation by his landlord, after having an affair with his landlady. This didn't surprise me, as he'd always had this fantasy thing about married women even when we were at school. He wasn't especially good looking, with scraggy flyaway hair, a weak chin, an a dismal dress sense. Although he had never been married, he had a series of long and short term girlfriends, flings, affairs, and partnerships, usually due to the sob-stories he told women. Women seemed to take pity on him, and wanted to 'fix' him.

As I listened, he was telling Sally about how his last relationship had ended, after she had promised to go away with him, get divorced, and buy a flat together in London. Then, suddenly, just as they were about to start a new life together, she changed her mind and dumped him. And now he just didn't know where he was going in his life, what to do, or who to turn to. He'd returned to his mother's house, and although he loved his mother dearly, he felt it was wrong to impose himself on her for too long, as she was getting old.

"You poor thing," Sally said as he finished, resting her hand on his arm.

"Dan!" I exclaimed, as though I was surprised to see him. "Is that you, Dan? I hardly recognised you." I gave him a playful punch in the belly, that was perhaps a little too hard.

"What? Who the fuck are you?"

I took my Chewy head off. "It's me, Harry, you dickhead."

"Ohh, Harry, hi, yes." He took a pace back as I offered my hand. Perhaps he thought I was going to smack him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just getting a drink. One for my wife too. Fancy a coke, Sally?"

"No, I'll have another gin an tonic."

"You sure? You sound a bit slurred?"

"I'll get you one, Sally," said Dan, pushing past me to get to the fridge. I didn't like the amount of gin he threw in to her glass, but Sally took it from him, giggling.

I tried to prize her away from Dan, as he just made me feel uneasy. The way he stared at her breasts all the time, and the way she was so eager to hear of how down on his his luck he was, about the constant failure of his love life, and how he so wanted to turn over a new leaf but just didn't know where to start.

Sally eventually had to pee and so I followed her to the toilet.

"Are you going to talk to your husband tonight?" I must have sounded annoyed.

"Why should I, when he's being such an asshole?"

"What? How?"

"To poor Dan. Haven't you heard how he is? He's supposed to be your friend, you know."

She closed the bathroom door on me. I suddenly felt the urge to pee too, so I dragged my Chewbacca suit up the stairs to the upstairs bathroom. After ten minutes of getting out of the thing, peeing, throwing cold water over my face and under my arm pits, I dragged the suit back on, silently cursing Sally's choice of evening wear for me.

Back down in the kitchen there was no sign of Sally and Dan. I wandered in to the living room, hallway and dining room, but couldn't find either of them. Somebody suggested looking outside in the garden, as they had seen Sally going outside presumably to cool down.

I found Sally talking to a group of her girl friends, sitting on a bench in the corner. There was no sign of Dan, and I was relieved she had shaken him off. I chatted some more to the guys about work, football, and fishing, and hadn't noticed that it was dark until somebody turned the outside lights on.

We were stood in the garden down the side of the house. The downstairs toilet window was open, and from it came the grunting sound of a man. Like a set of stupid schoolboys, we staggered our way nearer, to see Dan's face in profile. One of the guys, Ray, crept nearer, and spoke a few words. Dan grunted something back before throwing open his mouth and having a huge orgasm.

"What the hell was that about," asked Simon, a guy I knew from work.

"Dan's gotten himself a blowjob," Ray chuckled.

"Who?" asked another guy.

Ray shrugged. "He just said she was good. Just some slut."

The guys laughed it off and we headed back to the kitchen for more beers. We saw Dan coming out of the downstairs toilet, but had no woman with him.

In the kitchen, I was surprised to see Sally, as I thought she was still in the garden. She was standing by the sink drinking a pint of water.

"Glad you're trying to sober up," I said.

"I wasn’t drunk. Much," She slurred.

"Good. I'm just thinking about your head the next day. I don't want you to be ill, that's all."

"God, Harry, you're sush a killjoy. Dun you wan me to ava good time?"

"Of course I do, sweetheart." I kissed her on the head.

Just after midnight, the minibus arrived, and we said out good-buys to our hosts. I was one of the last on, as, having the monstrous Chewbacca costume, I needed the wider disabled seats at the front. I looked round for Sally and saw she had a place on the back row, next to Dan.

The whole minibus was singing, people were standing and swapping seats, shouting directions, and messages about where to drop off the next person. I saw Sally's head on Dan's shoulder, and I fumed at how close they were sitting together. I noticed that there was nobody on the back seat with them.

The next time I looked, her head was still on his shoulder, but her eyes were closed, her head had tilted back, and she was biting her lip fiercely. I removed the stupid Chewy head to see better, as it was dark in the minibus and difficult to see clearly. A woman had stood up two rows back, and was singing something to a guy across the isle, so I lost sight of Sally. I wanted to try and get back to her, but the minibus was just too full. So I sat back and fretted to myself.

The minibus stopped a few times in quick succession, and soon it was only half full. I looked to the back seat, and Sally was now on her own. I was relieved at this, but bemused as I hadn't seen Dan get off. But there again, I hadn't been watching. As I looked at her, her face turned from a relaxed, far-away drunkeness, to that of sudden pain. She looked downwards, her mouth opened, and then her head went back, eyes closed, gasping. Was she masturbating, here on the coach? If she was as horny as that now, then it bode well for me when we got home.

The next stop was ours, and Sally was pushed forward towards me and the door. I grabbed her round the waist and we stepped out of the minibus into the cool of the evening. We waved our goodbyes, and as the minibus pulled away, I thought I glanced Dan's face though the back window.

I woke late on Saturday morning, and Sally was still dead to the world. She finally emerged from the bedroom in the evening, and slumped herself on the sofa holding her head. Although she vaguely remembered talking to Dan, she said she couldn't remember anything about the latter half of the night or the ride home.

This didn't surprise me, as she'd had amnesia before when she was drunk. Once, before we were married, she'd gotten so plastered that she'd removed her top and bra, dancing topless in a bar in town. Even though there had been plenty of photographs to capture the moment, she refused to admit any recollection of it.

I remained uneasy about Dan's presence, and my concerns increased when I came home from work and she let it slip that she'd had lunch with Dan. When I asked her when, she eventually revealed that she'd 'bumped in to him' a few times since the party. I told her I wasn't happy about this, as Dan had a history of being a womaniser. But she just repeated lines from his sob stories.

"He's down on his luck, Harry, and he just needs a break. He's looking at living in cheap bed and breakfast places at the moment, so I thought he could come and stay with us for a while."

"What?"

"Just until he gets settled. He's having to impose on his mum. She's such a lovely woman, and Dan loves her so much. But he's having to sleep on the couch. And we have a whole room spare..."

"No. Absolutely not. Our place isn't big enough anyway. And we've got three small girls who tear up the place. I don't want him wandering out of the bathroom one morning and...and.."

"Oh, Harry, grow up."

"He's not staying here, Sally. I haven't seen him in years. I don't really know him any more, and neither do you. I know he's been selling you hard-luck stories, but that's what he does. That's what he always does. It's just his technique."

"Technique? For what?"

I paused, but I hadn't actually got anything stuck in my throat. "For trying to get inside your knickers."

"Oh for God's sake. You really are bloody immature sometimes. Besides, you said yourself, you haven't seen him in years, so you don't really know him. He's not like that."'

"I don't care what he's like, he's not staying here!"

Our discussion had turned in to a row loud enough to wake the twins, who peered out from their bedroom, wide eyed.

Of course I got the cold shoulder from Sally for the next few days, but I just got on planning our summer holiday trip. We were going camping with a large group of friends down to the south coast. The campsite was just off the beech, and if the weather was good, we would have a week of building sand castles, collecting shells, and barbecues. I was excited as we hadn't had a holiday for a few years, and this might just be an opportunity for Sally and I to rekindle our pre-marital sexlife.

We were all set on the morning of our departure, with the kids buckled in to our MPV, and the tent and gear stashed in the boot and roof rack, when Sally picked up a call. She spoke for several minutes, laughing with whoever had called. It sounded like she were discussing cooking arrangements.

"Who was that?" I asked as we set off down the road.

Sally looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, you might as well know now. Dan will be coming on holiday with us."

"What!?"

"It's not just me. Some of the others told him to come along too."

"Oh, Sally, why did you do that?"

"He's on his own. He's lonely. The company will do him good."

We argued for an hour before it went silent. And remained silent for the next two hours, when we arrived at the campsite.

I busied myself unloading, sorting the kids out, and putting up our huge three-bedroomed tent. I set up the kitchen gear, tables, and chairs in the huge porch, and started inflating the air beds. There was the predicable row between Dee and Indy, the twins, as to who was getting which room. I looked round for Sally to arbitrate while I completed pegging out, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I took the three kids up to the campsite shop and bought a few provisions, before heading back down, checking in with all our friends. I asked few if they had seen Sally.

"She's over at Dan's tent drinking wine," said one.

I dragged the kids over to Dan's tent, with the aim of making Sally feel guilty. But she was already sozzled enough not to notice.

"Excuse me," I said eventually to Dan, grabbing Sally be the hand. "My children are in need of their mother."

We put the kids to bed and then I put Sally to bed. Dee and Indy had claimed a room each, which left two year old Libbie sleeping between Sally and myself.

Any thoughts of this holiday having any romance at all for me were fading rapidly.

The next day we all took off for the beach. It was gloriously hot, and we spent all morning jumping in and out of the sea, applying layers of sun lotion, building sandcastles, and playing cricket.

Around midday, the mums agreed they would sort out lunch for us all. The yummy mummys, clad in bikinis and bathing costumes, set off back up the beach, whilst us dads continued with the cricket with the kids. When the mums returned, Sally was wearing a new tiny white bikini. So tiny was it that it barely covered her beautifully big boobs, and she looked utterly fuckable.

I was walking up to her to say how much I loved the way she looked, when Dan beat me to her. Sidling up to her, he wrapped his arm round her waist.

"I knew you'd look good in that," he said. "You're really beautiful, Sally. By far the most beautiful woman here. I so wish I could have someone like you."

I was going to launch in to a rant about that being the biggest load of bullshit I'd ever heard, but all the mums were cooing and ahhing over him, saying how sweet he was, that any woman would be lucky to have him, and they were sure he'd find somebody on this holiday. I was flabbergasted. Not only had Sally bought his crap, but so had all the other mums too.

One other thing that irked me, was how he had said "I knew you'd look good in that" as if he had been expecting her to put on that skimpy bikini, and like he'd seen it before.

That evening, the consensus was that some of the adults would hit some of the bars in town. We drew lots to see who would be baby sitting, and I drew one of the three short straws. I was chatting to Ricky and Paula about how we would watch all the kids in six tents, when the taxis arrived to take the others in to town.

Sally popped out of the tent wearing a very sexy pale blue linen dress, with tiny straps, and a matching blue bra that was clearly visible. Her long auburn hair was down her back, and her hips wiggled as she strolled toward the taxi in a pair of killer high heels. She looked good enough to eat, and I tried to get near her to say how good she looked, and how pissed off I was about not being able to go with her. But she had been pushed inside the taxi, which was rammed with other bodies, eager to get into town.

The taxi pulled away and to my dismay I saw that Dan had taken a seat right beside Sally.

Ricky, Paula, and I placed three deckchairs in the centre of the six tents, where we could keep our eyes on all the doors and openings. We cracked open some wine and began chatting. Every few minutes or so, we'd wander round the tents, peeking in to see little faces asleep, and the occasional grunts and snores. By midnight we'd finished our third bottle, and the first of the taxis had arrived back.

"You look shattered," said Ricky. "You hit the sack."

I couldn't say no to that, so headed back to our tent. Sally's white bikini was laying on our airbed, and I began to stiffen at the sight of it. It felt so soft and smelt of her. I placed it beside my pillow, moved the sleeping Libbie to one side, and fell asleep.

It was some time later that I heard the taxi. It stopped, and the doors opened. There was some commotion and what sounded like an argument developing. Putting on my trousers, I wandered outside. Ricky was paying the taxi driver, and holding on to Sally, who could hardly stand.

"No money," said Ricky. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You get her to bed."

"Come on, honey," I said, taking Sally under the arms. "How are you feeling?"

She spoke, but it wasn't really English.

"Have you come back in the taxi on your own?" I asked, looking round. Again, she mumbled something. I looked over to Dan's tent but there was no sign of life.

Eventually I had to carry her to bed. I peeled her out of her dress, unfastening her bra, and helping myself to feel of her melons. Pulling her dress down, I was shocked to find no knickers. The thought of Sally going commando in that dress made my semi into a fullie. She looked utterly fabulous, lying naked on our airbed, with the light from a nearby lamp illumining her bumps and curves.

I removed my shorts and lay on top of her.

"Sally? Sally?" I whispered. If she could hear me, there was no response, apart from a mostly incoherent groan. I kissed her face, and lips, hair, ears, everywhere. Suddenly I was consumed with lust. I had to have her, now. I knew it was probably wrong of me to take advantage of her in this predicament, but she was my wife after all. I kissed her tits, taking first one and then the other in my mouth. They were always too large to fit inside my mouth, but I always loved seeing if I could take just that little bit more. I feasted on them, suckling her erect nipples, and stimulating a moan from her. My fingers reached for her pussy, smooth and freshly shaved. My God, she was so wet! Utterly soaking.

She moaned something that sounded like, "No more" but I wasn't really listening, and continued to finger fuck her, whilst kissing her pelvis and waist. Her breathing had increased, and I could sense her hips moving in rhythm. I could wait no longer, and praying that little Libbie would stay asleep, I pushed my cock home.

I slid straight in to her, right to the bottom. Normally, I need to work on her for some time before she can accept my full width. But tonight she was magnificently moist. As I pumped away at her, my mind wondered what it was that had got her so wet. Was it going commando, the alcohol, or had she gotten so sexually aroused at something that her panties had become too sodden to wear?

Little moans escaped her lips as I pounded into her, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Finally I exploded inside her, blacking out for a second with the effort. I rolled over, catching my breath. An urgent need to pee made me leave the tent for the toilet block. On the way back, I could hear Ricky's voice, chatting to some of the others who had been out in town.

"So who is Dan's mystery girl," Ricky was asking.

"We don't really know," said another voice. "He must have picked her up to to tonight, I guess. Either way, she must be pretty loose as, by all accounts, he had her in the loos twice."

"Jeesus. What's her name?"

"All I know is that he called her Cunnylips."

There were chuckles from the men, and tuts of annoyance from the women. I made my way back to our tent, checked on Dee and Indy who were fast asleep, and then joined Sally and Libbie before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep.

It was afternoon down at the beach when Sally finally emerged along with her hangover from hell that she'd brought with her.

"Don't ever let me drink that much again," she said.

"I would have tried to stop you if I'd been there and not baby sitting."

"What? You mean you weren't at that club last night? Didn't we...?"

"I drew one of the three short straws if you remember? No?"

She looked vague and puzzled, so I handed her a bottle of water.

Nobody drank much that night, and we all sat around on deck chairs in small groups, a lighted fire here and there, with blankets around to keep off the night chill. Ricky, Paula, and I had been the only ones without a hangover, but with no alcohol on site, and with nobody willing to go look for any, it was the job of Ricky and I to take a walk to the local off- license.

This proved tricker than we thought, and we got lost several times on the dark, unlit backroads than led to the village. The offlicense was closed when we got there, but we managed to scrounge a few bottles of table wine from the local pub just before they were closing.

We arrived back at the campsite an hour and a half later.

"You go on. Take the wine," I said to Ricky. "I'm going to pee."

After I'd relieved myself, I walked down through the campsite. As I passed Dan's tent, I heard noises coming from within. Slurping, kissing, moaning. I'd noticed that I hadn't seen much of him that evening, so I stopped, just for a moment.

"Ohhh...fuck..." A loud whisper. It sounded female.

"You like that, Cunnylips?" Dan's voice was hushed.

"Ohh, God, yesss," she hissed back. There was more slurping, and more moaning.

I know it's perverted, but I wanted to see if I could identify her. There was a small open flap near the base of the tent, and I crouched down on hands and knees peering in. Through the insect mesh of the tiny window,I could just see Dan's head between a pair of bare legs. He was working away at her with his mouth and tongue, whilst his hands ran up her sides. I couldn't see what his hands did to her next' but it made her squeal.

Dan chuckled to himself, and started kissing her pelvis, moving up to her abdomen, and then I lost site of his face completely. In to view sprang his erect cock, poking out from his flyhole. I saw his hand move down to take hold of his shaft and began to guide himself into her.

"Oh, God no, Dan!" she whispered. "Not here. Somebody will hear."

"I know you like it. I know you want me. You wanted me last night, didn't you."

"Did I? Oh, God..." He pushed himself in to her. She cried out, so loud I thought someone would come.

"Shut the fuck up, Cunnylips." He must have stuffed something in her mouth, as her cries became muffled as he pumped her. There was no gentleness about him, no tender seduction, no slow and gentle lovemaking, just a fierce piston designed to make her cum hard and quick. Her knees came up and her legs moved further apart, a foot hitting the mesh on the flap I was staring through.

His ass rose and fell rapidly, and her stifled moans became louder and more urgent. I tried to stuff my face closer, to see if I could see any more. I saw her hand reach down his back, caressing his skin, and then digging nails into his back. He began grunting with each thrust, and with a series of much deeper, harder thrusts, she screamed, her knees straightened and his ass went down and stopped. His buttock cheeks clenched as he pushed hard and deep, moving both their bodies headfirst a foot and out of my view.

"Are you in their, Dan?" A male voice from the other side of the tent.

"No, it's the fucking Smurfs," came Dan's reply. "Whaddyouwant?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just sounded like you were in pain. You need help?"

"Ha fucking ha. Piss off."

I rolled quietly away from the tent, and hid for a few minutes under the hedge that separated the campsite from the road. I was only partially shocked to find I was fully erect and poking out of my shorts. I knew I couldn't exactly go back to camp in this state, so I knelt down, removed myself and began rubbing.

There were whispers and rustling coming from Dan's tent. Silence for a few seconds and then the sound of the tent zipper. It took me a little longer before I was able to cum, but it felt empty and unrewarding.

A returned to the campsite, and was told Sally had gone back to our tent. She was curled up beside Libbie, so I slipped in beside them and fell asleep.

I woke up just before Sally, and told her I was going for a run. There was a wide stretch of beach about two miles away that I was going to make for, and then I'd be back to make breakfast.

I love running in the morning. It's a great way to clear your head, and physically set yourself up for the day. I'd planned to run along the wide stretch of beach for a couple of miles, before turning round and coming back. But I hadn't reckoned on the tide being in, and the whole beach was underwater. So instead I jogged up and along a lane that looped up and away from the sea and back to the campsite.

Passing the shower block on the side of the campsite furthest from ours, I decided to try it out, to see if it was as good as the facilities at our end of the campsite. The block was in use, and warm steam filled the building. I had to wait a few minutes for one of the six cubicles became free. I had the cubicle second from the end.

As I stripped off, there was a huge thud from the wood and plastic partition wall between mine and the end cubicle. Above the noise of running water from all the cubicles, I heard the groan of a woman. Then a slurping sound, followed by a woman's groan and then a little shriek.

I dropped to my knees and peered under the narrow gap between the concrete floor and the bottom of the partition. Through the steam I could see a woman's foot and ankle. She appeared to be facing away from me and leaning back on to the partition. A man was on his knees in front of her. I couldn't see the woman's other foot, so I could only guess it was over his shoulder.

The partition wall thudded again, and she let out a long steady moan.

"Ohhhhhhhhh...Dan..." I could only just hear her over the noise of the showers.

Leaning my back up against the partition, I soaped myself down and took hold of my shaft, bringing it to full hardness. The heat of the water made the soap froth, and friction soon disappeared. There were more moans, slurping and thuds on the partition.

Then for a few seconds everything appeared to stop.

"Oh, God, Dan...don't stop now. I'm nearly there. What...what are you doing?" There was another thud on the partition wall. "Oh, God, no...no, Dan...not there," she whispered."Please no...not in there..."

Dropping to my knees to peer under the gap, I could just see the woman's knees. She was facing toward me, presumably with her head and hands pressed up against the partition. Behind her, Dan was knelt, his hands on her hips. She was struggling against him. He reached round her waist and pulled her back on to him.

"Aaaasrghhhh..." She screamed.

"Shut the fuck up, Cunnylips," he hissed. "You're my bitch. You'll take it in any hole I want."

It was brutal and animalistic, whatever it was he did to her. It sounded like she was desparately trying to stay quiet, but was failing miserably.

"Eeee...eeeee...eeeee...eeee..." She cried, in unison of a hard thud from the partition. And then, "no...please...no...I can't...aaaarrrrgggghhhhh..."

Dan uttered a long, low, gutteral groan. "Yeahhhhssss...Cunnylips...now you've had my seed in every hole."

The woman collapsed to the floor, sobbing. I dropped to my knees, my stiff cock in my hands, pumping furiously.

The water from the shower in Dan's cubicle stopped. "Clean yourself up," he said. I heard him putting on his clothes. I needed to cum. I grabbed some soap and smoothed it over my cock. The woman whimpered. "You're not wearing those anymore. Not on this holiday, Cunnylips. Your pussy needs to be easily accessible. At all times. Come on."

I heard the cubicle door open, and saw their feet walking past my cubicle on their way out of the shower block. I wanted to throw the door open, to see who she was, and who had just been assraped by Dan. But my cock was still hard, and I was still in need of cumming. I closed my eyes and focused on the panic striken noises, yelping, and pleading of desperation made by the woman. My cock exploded, spitting out its contents into the drain of the shower.

For the rest of that week, I kept hearing snippets and stories about Cunnylips. Dan had kept her identity a close secret, but during a drunken moment he had let it slip to Ricky, that she was to be the star turn at a Stag party. Apparently he had convinced her to be the waitress at the party, which was to be held in an old barn somewhere at the other side of town. The party was going to be a big deal for the young Stag and about a dozen of his friends. They had chipped in to hire a prostitute, when Dan said they could all borrow Cunnylips. The young lads had been quite pleased, and Dan had pocketed the £200 that the lads had raised.

Friday night came, our last nite on the campsite. I was busy packing up the girls stuff, and dismantling all the kitchen equipment. I figured that if I could load most of our gear into the car that evening, then there wouldn't be such a huge rush in the morning.

I suddenly realised that Sally still hadn't returned from the beech. I was immediately pissed off that she hadn't been there to help pack everything up. And then doubly pissed off when I saw that the kids had removed all their belongings from the bags I'd carefully packed, and strewn them about the place, looking for something to wear on the last night.

Angrily, I called Sally's mobile, and left a message to indicate how pissed off I was at her. By now it was eight o'clock, and I was busily trying to get youngest ready for bed, whilst explaining to the twins that they could stay up for another hour, but no, there wasn't a last-night party, it was just a bit of a get together, and no they could't get all their clothes out of the bag again.

By ten o'clock, I'd finished packing, read Libbie a story and got her to sleep, and retrieved the twins who had been busy investigating everybody else's tent. "Bed. Now!" I wasn't taking any prisoners.

At eleven, I sufficiently pissed off to call Sally again. I left another message, followed by a one-line, rather blunt text:

- WTF are you?

A reply came back a minute later.

-Out lol

-out? Where? What bout your children?

-Party. I told you

I was about to send another text, but I get so pissed off with all the texting shit sometimes, so I just called her.

It went to answerphone, again. So I hung up. Then I dialled again.

"Hi, hunny," she sounded drunk.

"Where the hell are you, Sally? I need help packing up you know."

"I told you. I'm helping at a party."

"No you didn't. What party? Get yourself back here right now."

"Oh for fucks sake, Harry. Chill out will you. I'm sure I told you. Dan's asked me to help out at his friend's stag party. They need someone to serve the drinks."

I had to check the ground to see how much blood had just run from me. My pulse shot out my head, and the campsite started to revolve. "What?"

"Just for a few hours. I'm sure I told you yesterday. Didn't I?"

"No. Where are you now?"

"Just in the taxi. I don't think I'll be too late."

"Taxi? Who with?"

"Just with Dan. So don't worry. I'll be quite safe. He told me I'm the star turn," she giggled.

Suddenly I saw what had been staring me in the face for the past few weeks. Dan's sob story of heartbrake and sadness, had engineered his pleasure in the downstairs toilet at the party, and Sally's face of pleasure on the back seat of the minibus on the way home. He had fashioned his way into our holiday, had his way in the nightclub, seduced Sally in his tent, and raped her in the shower. And God knows what else and when else.

And what now?

"Sally, you need to come back now."

"What?"

"You don't understand. I know what's been happening. What he's doing. And you need to come back now?"

"I will. I told you I don't think I'll be too late."

"Sally, listen. You don't know what Dan's going to do to you. He's been tricking you. Can't you see?"

"What? I can't hear you." There was laughter in the background. "I've got to go."

"Sally! Listen. Tell the taxi driver to turn round. Tell him to bring you straight back to the campsite. Sally! Sally?"

The line had gone dead.

I called back, but it went to her answerphone. I hung up, looking around me. I checked my car keys in my pocket. But where was I going? Where was the party? And who would look after the kids?

I stumbled around the campsite, re-dialling Sally's number. It never occurred to me to send a text to her, to tell her that I knew what was happening.

Eventually I stumbled in to Ricky and Paula. They asked me what was the matter. So I told them. Paula gasped and clamped both hands to her mouth. Ricky just shook his head, looking at the ground and turning away. A few of the others joined us, noticing that something was wrong. Gradually the story spilled out, as the true identity of Cunnylips revealed itself.

At first, nobody would believe it. They all though Dan was a nice, regular guy, who'd just fallen on hard times and needed a break. With mums putting their arms around me in comfort, the stories started to come out. It seemed that, individually, Dan had provided some sort of hard-luck story to everyone. But when the pieces started to be put together as they were now, many of the mums commented that he had made advances, or flirted, or dropped hints of a sexual nature to them in the past. More stories of his conquests came out, and we were presented with a picture of a deviant sexual predator.

Of course, none of this was any consolation to me. My wife had been multipully unfaithful, God knows how many times. She had allowed herself to be seduced, and had enjoyed the end fruits of her seduction, to the point where her seducer could legitimately claim consensual relations had taken place.

Needless to say I didn't sleep that night. Whilst Paula looked after my kids, I drove around the town and surrounding countryside, looking for a barn or any signs of a stag party. But I found nothing, and by 4.00am it was getting light and I arrived back at the campsite.

Returning to the tent I found Sally asleep beside Libbie. I carried the sleeping Libbie into Dee's compartment, and left her there, with the intentions of having a very serious few words with my wife. But of course Sally was completely comatosed, and I could get only a small grunt from her.

She was dressed as a Cowgirl; but of course, she had been to a barn. I say dressed, but the costume she wore covered very little, being composed of a tiny brown leather miniskirt, and matching crop top. Cheap brown leather thigh high boots and a 10 gallon hat completed the look. She wore no bra, and no panties. I had to look between her legs, but wished I hadn't. Her usually beautiful pussy was red, swollen, and was leaking fluids of all colours and consistencies.

Suddenly, I was filled with rage. A kind of murderous rage I'd never felt before. I burst out of the tent, storming over to Dan's, and ripped open his door. He too was comatosed, with drool and vomit clinging to the side of his face. I called his name a few times, and kicked him with reasonable force in his chest and gut. When it was obvious that he wasn't moving, I started searching his tent. I'd no idea for what, but when I stumbled across the Camcorder, I knew I had to play it back.

The tape had been made at the Stag party, in a barn somewhere. There were about twenty guys, all pissed, and drinking beer from cardboard crates. There was no bar, or fridge, or glasses, and no need for anyone to serve anything to anyone.

Sally appeared in her Cowgirl outfit. "I can't believe I let you talk me in to wearing this," she said to the camera.

"You look fit as fuck," came Dan's voice. "Doesn't she, guys?"

Hoots and yells of agreement came from all the men there, before Sally was led away by two of the men into the middle of the barn where music was playing. They began to dance, one in front of Sally and one behind. The rest of the men gathered round drinking beer.

I pressed fast forward. The next scene made me nearly drop the camera. Sally was on her back on the ground with her tiny skirt around her hips. A man was kneeling between her legs, holding her hips and fucking her furiously. Sally had her hands on his shoulders, as if trying to push him away.

The camera moved in closer, and Sally looked toward it. "Dan!" She exclaimed. "Dan! Ohhhhh..." The man had obviously hit a tender spot inside her. With several deeper thrusts, the man let out a huge groan. His cheeks tensed, and then released, before he rolled off her.

Sally's knees were drawn up, exposing her pussy, which oozed cum. Suddenly, another man was between her legs. He had already removed his trousers, and was massaging a huge erection. Without any warning he plunged straight in to my wife, and began fucking her just as fast as the previous man.

"Ohhhhh!" she cried again. "Dan! Dan, what's happening?"

The camera moved in closer to the man's face, which was just a couple of inches above Sally's.

"She a great fuck or what, eh Pauly?" came Dan's voice.

"Yehhssss," utterd Pauly, as he continued ploughing into my wife. He stared down to Sally's breasts, and pulled down her tiny leather top. Taking one breast in his mouth he began to tease her nipple.

"Dan?" Cried Sally. "Dan? Ohhhh...please...Dan!" Her eyes closed slightly and she bit her bottom lip.

They took turns with her. I lost count eventually, skipping forward on the video. Near the end she was screaming loudly at something off camera. Two of the men were holding her down, and the camera panned round to show Dan holding a cricket stump. As the men held her with her legs open, he inserted the cricket stump into her slime covered pussy. She cried out a few times, thrusting her hips into the air.

"Hold her!" came Dan's voice, and the cricket stump went in further.

There were only a few more minutes of this before the tape ended. A ninety minute tape.

I sat on the floor of Dan's tend, stunned. It was about six o'clock, and in a couple of hours the campsite would be waking.

I stared at him, laying on his front, unconscious.

And then, I developed a plan.

I went out to my car. The sun was up, but the campers were still slumbering. In the boot I removed the two rolls of Duct Tape, before taking the cricket stump I had seen discarded on the grass just outside Dan's tent. I returned to the tent and began removing Dan's clothes.

It was then I spotted his mobile phone. I picked it up, but it was locked. It had one of those fingerprint identity systems, so I grabbed his hand, and after a few seconds, I had unlocked his phone.

There were dozens of pictures of Sally, many of them taken in his tent, with her sucking his cock, or riding on top, and being taken from behind. I saw texts from him to her, and her to him. Many times he thanked her for being so understanding, and for being such a good friend when he was so in need. The only other woman who had ever been so good to him was his mother. He mentioned his mother several times in his rambling texts to her. She replied saying that of course he was a lovely man, that it was such a shame he'd had so much bad luck, and that she felt so sorry for him. And of course she would agree to meet up with him.

There were scores of texts and e-mails between them, all starting on the night of that party, including one the next day from him:

-Thanks for what u did 2 me in the toilet hun. Hope you had a good time on the back seat?

It had been his idea to move in to our house, but he had put it so subtly that it sounded like Sally had come up with the idea in the first place. He had even told her that he could look after the girls for us. And it was clearly him who had put the idea in her brain that he should come on holiday to recuperate.

As I read, I became more incensed. There were messages to other women too. E-mails, mails, texts, instant messages, Wotsaps, every conceivable form of social media had been used to communicate with other wives and girlfriends.

I picked up the Duct Tape and cricket stump. The next ten minutes of his life were probably the most uncomfortable.

I zipped up his tent as I left.

#

I watched him enter the fast food restaurant, just after it opened. He was first in there, just as always. So predictable. He ordered the same bacon roll and the same tea with two sugars and sat in the same table, away from the counter and away from the door. That the table was secluded from the rest of the café by a screen, was just perfect.

He rose to leave, the moment he saw me. But I just placed his Camcorder on the table, staring him down.

"What do you want?" He was hyperventilating.

"A chat," I said. "Sit down, Dan."

Obediently he sat, eyeing the Camcorder. "So it was you?" I said nothing. "You bastard. Do you know what permanent damage that's caused to me? My doctor says..."

"Do you think I give a fuck?"

He stood up, and grabbed the Camera. "I'm going to the Police. What you did was assault."

I shook my head. "I don't think so." I reached in to my jacket pocket, and pulled out his mobile phone. I placed it on the table.

He fell rather than sat back in his seat. "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave town."

He laughed. "Fuck you. What do you think this is? High fucking noon?"

I leaned forward, staring him in his eyes. "I've seen the contents of your phone, as well as the tape." I tapped the Camcorder.

He switched it on, but the screen was blank. He stared at me. "What have you done to it."

"Wiped it, of course. You don't think I'd let you keep that, do you?"

"She loved it!" he sneered at me. "She came begging to me for it. She said you weren't man enough for her. You didn't satisfy her. But I..."

"Shut it, you prick. You're in deep shit."

"Am I? Am I really?" he sneered. "I don't give a fuck."

"No. You don't, do you. You really don't care whose lives you ruin. You don't consider the families you could pull apart."

He looked over his shoulder, eyeing the door. "I'm out of here."

"No, you're not. Not before you agree to leave town."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"Because of the texts and the e-mails on your phone."

He grabbed the phone from the table, and flicked through his messages, and texts. "The photos? And videos? What have you done?"

"I've deleted them from your phone, of course." He sighed, relieved. "It's a bloody good job that the Chief Exec of that company you're working for, hasn't seen the e-mails between you and his wife." He looked pale. "Or the video of her tied to a hotel bed with something sticking out of her private parts. Did she agree to let you do that?"

"Fuck you!" He checked his phone again.

"Of course, I've made backups of everything on your phone. Everything. Including your contacts list. All those wives and girlfriends, and their husbands and boyfriends. All their home and work e-mails, mobile numbers. Plus all the dirty pictures and videos. And the ninety minutes of you gangraping my wife."

"She agreed to that. She wanted to come. And what are you going to do anyway? You and your whore wife will be a laughing stock if anyone sees any of that!" He sat back in his seat, folding his arms. "No, mate. You're fucked."

"The thing is, Dan, what Sally and I have, is called a loving relationship. You see, unlike the sordid little affairs you have, Sally and I have been together a long time. We know and we trust each other. Of course, what she's done has shaken me to the core. It's ripped us apart, made us question our whole lives. But we're turning a corner. That's what the marriage guidance people are telling us. And our friends. You see, they all know. They knew from the night you took her to the barn. From that moment, we all realised what a complete shit you are."

He licked his lips, and glanced at door. "Fuck you, Harry."

"So. I'm giving you one week. And then, as you say, you're out of here."

"Fuck off!"

"You're going to work now, as usual. But not as usual, you will hand in your resignation. You will copy me in to your resignation. Give personal reasons, whatever. You won't be able to work your notice, you'll have to go off sick. And then, once you've packed all your stuff, you will fuck off out of town, and out of the county. And you will never, ever come back.

You see, I have a huge online Cloud account set up. In that account is a repository of all your nasty videos, pictures, messages and e-mails. I have a link to that account, which is pasted into an e-mail. That e-mail is set to go out to every contact in your phone. There are quite a lot of contacts. Over five hundred, did you know? Business partners, customers, as well as friends. Can you imagine how they will perceive you, when they see that little lot?"

"Fuck you." It was a weak reply. His mouth was as dry as a bone, his face pale, and his hands trembling as he clutched his phone.

"And of course, number one in your contact list, is your mother."

His lips tried to form a word, but all that cam out was, "Ffff..."

"What would she think of her precious little boy? What would she make of his adultery, his lies, his tricks and deceit? Would it sadden her to know that her son targets married women? Would she cry for hours and days at a time? What would she say to you, Dan? Would she even speak to you?"

I let this sink in for a minute.

"One week. That's all. I give you one week. If you're not gone, then I click send. If you come back, then five hundred people find out the real you." I stood up and made to leave. I had a family to put back together.

"Oh, and one more thing," I said, reaching in to the bag I had over my shoulder. "If you ever contact my wife again, this will go in all the way."

I placed the cricket stump on the table and walked out the restaurant.