…As I lay there on that beach sleep wouldn't come to me this time, but I wasn't exactly awake either. I heard the seagulls and the distant surf, and even my own relaxed heartbeat as well; I almost felt like a dormant computer in standby mode just waiting for somebody to accidentally bump the desk and shake my mouse awake. I was blissfully relaxed with Jack watching over me, like the most comfortable I've ever been, and this is saying something as I was stretched out on a nude beach in public while thinking about it, all while pretending to be Jack's lusty wife. Laying there I also smelled both the coconut oil and Jack's manly scent, and even the less intrusive smells of the beach. I felt the heat of the sun cook my naked back side like an oven, but what really seemed profound to me was that I FELT Jack next to me. Not his physical body, but his presence.
…I had never really felt Mike - or any other man - quite like this, and I felt guilty for it. Mike was a good guy, and the sex with him was very, very good; he just knew my body and what it liked like no other. My moods, and the deeper aspects of my mind and heart; not so much though. I hadn't really realized this - this glaring deficiency - to be honest, before charming Jack and I took this honeymoon vacation together. There is way more to a marriage than great sex after all…
Jack's mind also went in a similar direction as mine did, apparently, as far as kink went, but we were still a million miles away from him "manning up" and going all full-barbarian on me. He even had his office gifted tools at his disposal, but not the lusty drive to make use of them just yet, despite all his apparent boasting with his coworkers to the contrary.
It seemed as if fate were calling his bluff though, but Tammy had a hand in that to be sure. It would be one thing for Jack to find a woman who looked exactly like his desk pictured "wife" did, but quite another to find one willing to go on vacation with him on the spur of the moment like this. And, it would be something quite different yet again, incredible really, to find such a woman who would allow herself to be taken on a honeymoon for such a charade, and allow herself to be helplessly bound up in Jack's office gifted toys. If Tammy somehow thought I was a paid actor, with an address that almost perfectly worked with all this, she must have concluded that I was a well paid actor.
I then had to wonder, did she know everything about our deception already, all the crazy details that I myself had trouble believing? And was she only waiting for that fatal error, that proverbial trip-up, almost like a stalking cat toying with and tormenting a captured mouse? What would she then do to that mouse, for potentially embarrassing her so?
Jack and I had already "done it" once obviously, much to my chagrin, after not even a full day together though. But, that was more of a mechanical biological coupling, "fucking" one could even crudely say. Making love was another thing entirely, and something the rational part of my brain wanted to avoid with him. The passionate part of me wanted him to do so though, and these two inside of me were sending out some confusing signals.
Making love for me usually starts with nothing more than the eyes, or a special inviting smile, and maybe even some tender touches too. Communicating desire like that is almost a non-verbal thing, if the two "lovers" knew each other well, as should ordinarily be expected for two humans bonding like that. Kinky things between two consenting adults were on a higher plane yet, at least for me, and for me established who was on the proverbial top, a place I just didn't want to be. Mike was good at this too, but I needed him to be, as vanilla sex for me was almost always boring.
Had Mike grown tired of such antics with me though, after almost a year of actual marriage? I asked myself, as incredible as that may sound. And, did his preference for dressing me down signify his desire to de-sex me around himself and others, to slow this crazy-train of lust I was riding? How does one go back to normal when she has developed a taste for other things? How then, does one become satisfied with those same "other things" when one has an endless imagination, and there are a million things left to try?
…Jack and I were both lying face down, and although it was awkward, I reached out and found his hand anyway; I just had to touch him, link up physically. I then held Jack's right hand with my married left ring hand, and he held mine in return on that beach, touching those very same rings that had, in part, brought us here together. I just knew things would ever be the same again between us, but perhaps in a very good way.
What if Jack had been successful the night before? I asked myself. What if I had a little something growing inside of me, a product of Jack's and my own lust? What if THIS was that unique spark, this connection to him that I now felt? What then of Mike back home? Months and months of extraordinary unprotected sex with Mike… that yielded nothing, and one single drunken quickie with Jack had done the deed? It just didn't make sense in the logical part of my brain, sure human anatomy can be defective, but wouldn't one know?
And then the suspicious part of my mind drifted to work on the subject of home just a bit more; my mind does that, it puzzles over things until I have an answer, running like an intrusive background program even when I don't want it to. Sometimes I can't "not" think about things, it's actually maddening to be inside my head sometimes, and this was one of those times.
What was Mike doing back home at this very second? Why exactly did he let me go on this crazy trip in the first place, encourage me to take it even, dress me like sex on legs… specifically for Jack? Why then had he gifted me to his best friend? Surely it wasn't the rings alone, it just couldn't be as simple as all that.
Was Mike all alone at this very second, lonely even, or did he have company himself? I wondered just a bit more darkly. He was a desirable sexy man in his own right, and we had already established that he could keep secrets from me, big important secrets even. That actually bothered me quite a bit, now that I had some quiet time to dwell on it, and I naturally wondered what other secrets he had too.
Was he already fed up and tired of crazy kinky sex after slightly less than a full year of actual marriage, and did he yearn for a more "normal" woman for himself, one with more vanilla tastes and no desire for a family? Did this lead him to want to dispose of me, or perhaps "gift" me to his best friend even, so that Jack could take me off his hands and make his new desires for a new woman seem less self centered? Was I the loser game show consolation prize, too pathetic to find somebody else on my own, and my ordinarily controlling husband wishing to control this last aspect of our relationship, before he himself moved on? Jack already had a house, so that potentially meant that Mike could keep ours.
I realized that this entire folly would have been so much easier if Mike had been a wimpy wuss; a sexually incompetent man so pathetic between the sheets that I was "forced" into the arms of another. Sex was fun, and great for making babies, and for getting close and intimate with the one you love, and even good for distracting stress relief too. In all reality though, the actual act probably only took up maybe one hour of the one hundred sixty eight hours in a normal week, and that was if the two were active, and if everything clicked into place like it should. There were a thousand perfectly good things that could chip away at that one hour a week thing too.
Jack was wonderful though, although not exactly top-dog king stud-muffin himself, although to be fair we had only hooked up once, and alcohol had been involved. Despite all this I liked Jack a lot, but I was trying NOT to fall in love with him down here; easier said than done though. I could do anything I might like while down here with Jack, and in fact, the more I acted like his slutty real wife, the better for our deception. BUT, Mike could do anything HE might like too, while I was safely tucked away down here and distracted.
I had thought it was a good idea when the guys had suggested it, but this not having phone contact between us three worked in both directions, and if Mike were doing exactly what Jack and I were doing, with one of the newer pretty young things from his office even, how could I possibly complain about it later on? To complicate things further, Mike had his own one hour a week needs, and I hadn't attended to those recently with all this turmoil leading up to this hasty second honeymoon. At the time I had thought that was a fitting punishment for all his deception, but now I wasn't so sure. I didn't really "feel" like it with my own husband in the days leading up to our departure, mood wise, but was that because a better perceived option had suddenly availed itself? Or, was Mike sending some kind of signal that the woman's intuition in me should have been getting, as in, was there a more desirable new hen about to enter the henhouse?
I didn't know if this made me a hypocrite, but I had never actually offered, nor given my own "hall pass" to Mike. The, perhaps unjustified feeling of being manipulated then swept over me, and I wondered if I had been played as a fool. Tammy certainly had this manipulative quality over me now, and perhaps even my Mike did as well, but in Tammy's case she was seeking truth, where in Mike's…
"I was thinking, what do you suppose he's doing right at this very second?" The response was dead silence from Jack for several seconds, which spoke volumes to me. I didn't clarify who "he" was either, but I didn't have to.
"I don't know!" he eventually answered, but Jack's tone implied something profound, and not necessarily just driving to the office or anything mundane like that. Was this maybe a slip-up though, in that moment of relaxed candor, perhaps one he regretted the moment he said it? We had by then turned our heads so we were looking into each other's eyes, this conversation was instantly very serious. I moved in closer to him then, even though there wasn't a person within earshot anyway, this conversation just too private and intimate for anything else though.
"Different question then. Have YOU ever lied to me?" I asked softly. It wasn't a different question at all, really, just the same question directed at a different man, but this one was here with me and could answer in his own defense. I was comparing the one to the other in my head, although not realizing I was doing so at the time.
"No… well yes, but not about anything serious."
"Is it a long list, as in do you want to clear your conscience with me here and now?" I asked while briefly staring directly into his handsome eyes; pupils narrowed to a pinpoint in the bright sun.
"Okay, remember when I told you this would only be for two weeks. Well, I don't know if that's entirely true yet or not."
"Okay, fair enough, is there anything else? We've known each other for years, surely there must be something else," I goaded softly. This entire conversation had gotten very serious, like two lovers baring their souls after the passion had abated and they were lying in each other's arms in the rich afterglow.
I wondered in the back of my mind WHY he didn't know this yet, as in is this related to something down here in the islands, or someplace else, like back home? And implied in there someplace too; was this something within his power to control, or not?
"You know your tuna fish casserole; I really don't like tuna fish all that much."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I asked, although this wasn't exactly the kind of thing I was after, but perhaps he was trying to lighten the mood between us to make up for his earlier candor.
"I don't like to disappoint you, and I way don't like to hurt your feelings." This part was actually telling to me, but it caused me to wonder what else he hadn't told me lately to spare my feelings. And this brought my mind full circle back towards home, and what Mike was really up to, and if his best friend in the whole world suspected, or even knew what he was up to, and perhaps maybe didn't approve of. Had Jack kept his disapproval and suspicions to himself, for reasons of self interest?
I also knew I couldn't leave it here either…
"That's very sweet Jack, you really are a good man, but is there anything else, anything at all?"
"Promise you won't be mad?" and I thought, here it comes, Mike is having an affair, and I'm down here with handsome Jack as a grand distraction so he can get to it, maybe even in our own home, maybe even in our own bed! Who is it I wondered, and what did she have to offer that I didn't?
"I don't know that I can promise that, but I promise not to ever be mad at you for being truthful with me," successfully masking my complex emotions from him, or at least I had hoped so.
"Okay then, fair enough. I don't always like the way you dress back home, it's to me like keeping a Rembrandt in the back of a hall closet with heavy winter coats in front of it, where nobody can see or appreciate it. Such might keep it safe from others, but if I had such a magnificent thing all to myself, I would proudly show it off every chance I got."
"That's about the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me" I told Jack sincerely. I reached just a bit closer and gave him a warm peck on the lips to say thank you, wondering if he would feel this way if my belly were bulging with his kicking baby and I couldn't see my feet when I stood, bloated boobs, stretchmarks and all. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I thought the answer might be yes. I couldn't necessarily answer the same for Mike though, and this was also telling for me.
A rather big part of me suddenly wanted to do something special for Jack at that very instant, we were even theoretically dressed for it, although this was a very public setting, and doing that in public was certainly uncharted territory for me, as was taking the lead. The nature of our hushed intimate conversation and eye to eye stare made me almost feel like we were the only two people on that beach, but logic told me differently. Still, almost nobody knew us down here, with the obvious exception of Tammy and her odd husband. There was a linkage between her and my being on this nude beach to begin with, with my being comfortably naked even… but the connection for me at the time was vague and uncertain.
As if all that weren't enough, there were cringe worthy cartoon depictions on weather worn signs of what wasn't allowed on the beach, complete with a faded red circle and a line through the fornicating cartoon figures in implied lusty action. There were also signs in several languages likely saying much the same thing, with the statute numbers of the misdemeanor crimes associated with the act, or acts listed. The various child-like cartoons ironically told everybody that this was no place for children, but I hadn't come here thinking that anyway. People with children went to Disney, or places like that, where this place was for something else, hence the cringe worthy signs.
As if those signs weren't enough of a deterrent, we had noticed a roving beach patrol on a large utility quad driving around slowly to keep an eye on everybody, keeping the tourists safe. Not only to ensure no pale skinned tourist like us fell asleep in the sun for hours and cooked to death, but likely to ensure no acts like pictured on those signs were actually taking place.
This was no roving lifeguard patrolling near the underutilized surf though, this woman was a local cop and quite muscular and fit, almost like a female gym rat. She was wearing very short and tight uniform shorts, and a fitted button down uniform shirt as well, and her physique was just magnificent, and on display. She also had a for-real badge, and a shiny holstered sidearm, Taser, and even shiny handcuffs on her belt; so this was nobody to screw with. She had on mirrored sunglasses too, almost universal down here on this beach, maybe so that when she looked at you it wouldn't be quite so obvious or intimidating. She also had water on that quad for obvious reasons, and a radio to call for other cops, or likely even an ambulance if necessary too.
Jack and I both looked at her discreetly as she rode past us once again, I noticed her handcuffs reflecting the sun first, and Jack likely noticed the rest of her very fit and ripped six pack body, slick with suntan oil and the deep complexion of one of the locals. I couldn't fault him in this, she was simply stunning to behold. I saw all the mirrored sunglasses turn when she rode through, confirming that he likely wasn't alone in his appreciation of her half dressed female form in this sea of nudity; ironic though, if one thought about it in these specific terms…
…Anyway, two things that had always excited me deep down, one was potentially stripping down to a G string on amateur night at the local gentlemen's club back when I was in college… which I never had the courage to do. And the other was the full-on, never expected to happen in the real world fantasy of getting arrested by a big strong cop; handcuffs, back of the car and taken to the station, the whole deal. Maybe even an hour or two on display in a real jail cell, with the cuffs still on, before somebody came and bailed me out, or perhaps maybe cleared up the misunderstanding. I don't know that I wanted to go all the way there with the strip search portion of that fantasy, but at some point the choice was no longer yours anyway.
I know a psychologist could have a field day with this, possibly make a whole career out of working that out for me, but I think it's the submission/authority figure aspect to all that, and the restraining handcuffs, and taking away one's freedom obviously. Anyway, big strong authoritative cops turn me on, they always have, at least ever since I had come of age. We had a muscular twenty something year old young cop as our high school resource officer back in the day, and to say that I was the only teen girl that had a crush on him would be a full blown lie. I don't actually know any cops socially though, and I had never dated one either, so this is really more of a concept thing for me; as in maybe I'm more in love with their uniforms, or their power and authority, but this drifts right back towards that psychologist I might need.
Anyway, this stunningly sexy female beach cop obviously isn't the exact masculine personification of that strange fantasy desire of mine, but she's close, and it gets my wheels turning that she's here and watching us, making sure we don't misbehave. Or, perhaps she's really hoping somebody DOES misbehave, so she can do her thing and make an arrest, snap those cuffs on, and show that she's needed and necessary.
There is just something about her that excites me, something that turns me on, but it's not exactly what I would call a girl crush either. She's dressed, and I'm not; she's armed and has a badge and cuffs… and authority, and all I have is coconut oil all over my naked body. This is even her home turf, she lives here, and I'm a pale skinned visitor. In this context she's just so much more than I am, the personification of authority. I don't envy her though, as in I don't want her authority, but I instead want her to use that authority against me, somehow. It's just a fleeting naughty thought in the back of my head, and fortunately it quickly passes, before I do something stupid I might later regret. Where does she even put the people she has to arrest? I wonder.
I got almost this same exact feeling when Tammy talked to me in our room this morning, the "naked in the presence of a superior authority figure" feeling, and it does something for me, even girl on girl; especially girl on girl I reluctantly realize, as irrational as that sounds. My tongue seems magically sealed on the Tammy incident though, as in I can't seem to bring it up with Jack. That in itself is strange, but just one of like a dozen strange new things down here, so perhaps I'm too overwhelmed with guilt over this deception of ours to pursue this in my mind, to think clearly on this particular subject.
My look in the here and now I think tells Jack I'm pondering SOMETHING, but his own fantasies and desires likely don't involve the cops, especially down here on a work paid vacation with enough complications already, pretend wife and all.
"Wow, she's just sexy as hell!" I tell Jack needlessly, just to say something and get a feel for his thoughts.
"She is," he instantly agrees. "I wonder if any guy cops have this duty?"
"Good point, they might hurt themselves riding around all day long with a big stiffy though!" And I laughed when I saw Jack's shocked expression, this about the last thing on earth that he likely thought I might say. I like shocking him, and I'm really not a "good girl" deep down at all, but somehow he has this perception of me, placing me on a pedestal, which runs smack into his kinky work-stated desires to bind me up and put me in my proverbial place, spank me even… Maybe Jack and I BOTH need that psychologist?
"Well, let's just hope they get a big stiffy looking at you, and not me. Although let's be honest, I look like a frog out with the princess, like she's taking pity on me."
"Jack, you are a very handsome and desirable man, and I LOVE being here with you." I knew that I had to be extremely careful, I had just used Jack's name and the word "love" in almost the same breath, although I hadn't actually said "I love you" just yet.
"Let's be honest, I'm a man borrowing somebody else's Rembrandt, because he doesn't have one of his own, and eventually I may have to give it back. Every hour we have together down here is like one less hour that I have with you, and I feel like some large stopwatch is counting down that time for me someplace."
"May" have to give it back, was that a slip up too? I wondered. I just looked at Jack blankly, I truly didn't know what to say to that. Jack had just said out loud what I was perhaps thinking in some far corner of my conflicted mind, I thought to myself.
"…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ever said that out loud, can you forgive me?"
"I don't know that I can do that Jack…" and at that moment his expression looked instantly crushed, "…because, because I find myself feeling exactly the same way."
"What are we going to do?" I then asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer, but just voicing my exasperation. A month ago I was happily and still somewhat newly married, without a care in the world, and my life in my mind was nearly perfect. I wanted a baby, but we'd work on that some more, and there were even doctors in that specific field too, if it actually came to that. I assumed that Mike had the problem here, if there was a problem, because I felt fine. Maybe he felt fine too though?
"We're married, remember, let's just enjoy our company paid second honeymoon, and let 'other things' play out on their own."
"I'm really, really trying to not break my word here… so that's just all I can say now." With that I realized that I wasn't going to get any more out of him at the moment; so in effect Jack HAD manned up, but not necessarily in the way I had anticipated. This also told me that there WAS a further truth, a secret truth that I maybe should know about, and this newfound knowledge didn't exactly put my mind at rest.
"I've had enough of the beach today," Jack said while getting up and fumbling for his clothes. "Let's go back to the room and find something to do on this damn itinerary."
"I like the sound of that" I told him, agreeing with his wishes, but he hadn't exactly asked for my input either, before he set himself in motion. Again this was progress, but not in exactly the way I had anticipated…
…On the ride back in the cab it felt unnatural to be wearing clothes again, but in all reality I wasn't wearing much. We could have showered off in the open public showers before dressing again, but I didn't have the courage for that, as strange as that sounds. Jack just deciding when we were done on the beach, that little decision, that simple commanding thing, did something profound for me. It's strange, but his taking charge like that, in that little way, that got my wheels turning, and also helped me forget about what was likely going on at home too. I welcomed this distraction, as I didn't want to be miserable on vacation with Jack, and such wouldn't go very far in perpetuating our little deception either.
Anyway, back at the hotel there was only one practical way to remove the lotion from our backs, the same lotion that we had applied to each other, and that was to take a nice long warm shower together. We had just spent the best part of an hour or so naked on the beach together, so showering off together shouldn't be that big a deal, but it was. First off, we were alone here, and second, Jack had taken charge on the beach, and that had me, if not seriously wound up, at least heading in that general direction. I wasn't working all that hard at hiding my building arousal either, we were past that point in my mind.
I'm noticing what I'm doing to him too though, and while not quite so well endowed as Mike, Jack has nothing to be ashamed of in the man department either, and it feels good to be able to excite him like this. I need this kind of approval for some deep psychological reason, but maybe this is due to my previous "hide my body" wardrobe. Anyway, we turn the water off after a good long cooperative wash down, each scrubbing the other's parts that can't be easily reached. I can see this moving into the bedroom next, and I'm way more than just fine with that. Everything's clicking into place for me, and so long as my mind doesn't get distracted with thoughts I'd rather not entertain, something wonderful is about to happen.
"If I was your real husband, would that mean that I could do anything I might like?" Jack feels the need to ask, jamming the brakes on with this wonderful wave of desire I'm trying to ride. Stop being such a gentleman, and PLEASE stop asking, I rage silently in my mind. But then a snarky quit pops into my mind; this will either crash the mood cold, or set the ground rules for ever-after with Jack.
"You, my husband, may do anything you desire with, or too me, at least up until I remind you of that place you wish to one day go. I like that we have that word between us to be honest, it gives me a kind of freedom. But, to be just as honest, the one and only thing that I'm not up for myself is sharing, as in I will never share a husband with another woman, that to me is just a deal breaker! It would be one thing if I gave permission, but you just have to know I'd simply never do that."
"That's good to know. But, to be clear, you guys didn't discuss this, this situation, at length, at some earlier point?"
"No, we didn't!" And my tone I think conveys my attitude about such. It's the crux of the issue for me, Mike had all kinds of time to take charge, to tell me what he expected with all this; we could have hashed this out together in private, and I could have come to this enticing tropical paradise with some firm ground rules in place. But no, he just helps me pack my bags like a robot, almost without a meaningful word. It's our very first wedding anniversary, and we're spending apart, I in the arms of another man; is that not profound? I feel just a bit setup for failure here, and very alone. Jack is here to fill the void though, in more than one way…
"Okay," Jack answers, but in his eyes he's conflicted, something isn't squaring with what he thinks he knows, and he likely can see the storm brewing in my own eyes…
"Do you want a happy wife for the rest of this day, or a cranky miserable bitch?"
"I'll take 'happy sexy wife' for a thousand Alex," Jack offers, in his best game show contestant voice. Jack's default mode is his humor, and he can be very funny, but I don't know if that will be enough here. I also notice that little Jack has deflated with the direction of this conversation, so it really hasn't been good for either one of us. I can maybe get back there myself, mood wise, but I'd just as rather go out on the town at this point and find something touristy to do, or maybe even find someplace to get a drink to forget all this nonsense. Just one though, there may be something growing inside of me, and I have that second potential little life to consider here now too.
Jack pulls the covers back on the properly made bed, and with an inviting sweep of his arm - almost reminiscent of now a game show host - he bids me to lay down on it. I then notice our gifted bondage toys there on the end table right out where we left them, and my mind goes to the cleaning staff, wondering at what they must think of us. I made no effort to hide the kinky toys from them this morning before we left for breakfast and the beach, and I wonder at what they've seen over the years down here in the islands, where people come to play, escape, and really let go.
I had told Jack on several different occasions to just man-up and take charge, but I'm not really into this at the moment either. Not that I still wouldn't, with Jack, but if he's wanting to go there he's going to have to work extra hard at getting me there with him. I'm on my back and Jack joins me, my body language posture more of the "let's sleep" kind, and not one suggesting, or overtly offering something else. Little Jack's not really into it either though, but I also know that guys can turn on a dime like a sports car, where I have to get there in my mind for things to really happen, kind of like turning the Titanic before it slams into the iceberg. Mike can get me there by just showing some kinky dominant interest, ordinarily, as I know that generally speaking anything he starts with me will almost always end up pretty good for me.
Not to equate myself with a pet, but it's almost like a learned reflex action; like every time you call your dog, and she comes, you reward her with a big juicy bone. After just a bit of that, all you really have to do is whisper your pet's name, and she'll come running, probably while salivating all over the floor in anticipation…
Jack gives me a kiss while hovering over me, and I give him a kiss back, but that passionate spark, that "I must have you right now" feeling just isn't there. This poor man, I think to myself. How can I be doing anything but driving him bat shit crazy with conflicting signals? He's doing almost everything right, just as I've asked, and I suddenly feel like a cold mannequin here in bed half under him.
"Something just isn't clicking for me sweetheart," I tell him needlessly.
"I talk too much," he admits with a self-deprecating smile.
"I sometimes think too much," I counter.
"I noticed, but that's okay. I have an idea for something else that you might like just as much," he tells me.
Jack looked me up and down and then gently rolled me onto my chest; I allowed him to position my limbs almost like I was back on the beach, slightly spread-eagle, and without a secret to be kept. He reaches up with his hands on my shoulders while hovering over me and kisses my cheek tenderly, this move alone quite loving, but less than passionate. I feel less vulnerable like this though, the proverbial good parts are facing down, but a determined man could still make something opportunistic happen like this, if he was of a mind to. Jack isn't like that though, he's not a "taker," but instead a "giver." Mike in comparison is a taker, and I'm ordinarily drawn to men like that…
Jack starts at my neck, massaging my muscles there, and I groan like we're actually having sex. It feels amazing, his hands are just so strong, and he then ever so slowly works himself downwards; shoulders and upper back, and then my lower back, all in perfect symmetry as he kneads my tight muscles. They simply can't resist his touch, and as a result they submit and yield, my body going all soft and relaxed. He then works the muscles of my gluteus maximus, and I already know he has a thing for my ass, but to confirm this he then kisses me there too, "sweet cheeks" he then whispers to me, reminding me of his pet name for me. I tell him how wonderful it feels, but fifteen minutes into my awesome massage my words are dreamy as I'm relaxing that much. If I thought the beach was wonderful, this is exponentially better than that. I don't necessarily want to sleep the day away while on vacation here, but I'm soon going that way anyway, and our sponsors would likely just think we were in bed together anyway, it is our second honeymoon after all.
My legs are next, and I also know that he has a thing for them too, and he doesn't disappoint there either. He tugs gently on each ankle when he gets there, and I feel my knees and hips "pop" with released tension, this giving man almost worshiping my body with his efforts. He then massages my feet, working my arch and toes with his firm touch, and I feel my eyes roll to the top of my head, something approaching an orgasm coursing through my body.
I've rubbed a man's back before, even Jack's playfully when I've been feeling fun and playful intoxicated around him, and Mike's more times than I can count, but nothing like this. I've never given a full body massage like this, and never gotten one either. If kinky sex is the number one thing I'd like to do for physical fun and stress relief, this is a very close number two, it's just that good. I'm more than half asleep and I think we're done, and I just know that I'm going to have to do something wonderful for him to say thank you, but this is no hardship either.
He then moves up top again, and then the same soft kiss on my cheek, a few soft words are exchanged and the pattern apparently repeats…
…It was a delicious nap, and evening when I finally woke up. Jack apparently covered me at some point and climbed in for his own nap too. He was still sleeping though, hardly making a sound, and I had a wonderful idea for a way to wake him, and this time there would be no extra words between us to crash the mood, and no ambiguity either. I slipped out of bed and took care of business, I hadn't eaten all that much that day and my belly was reminding me of it. First things first though, bathroom and a quick shower, so that this gift I was about to offer would be extra fresh and clean.
I wrote a quick note on some hotel stationery; by design I wouldn't be saying a word to Jack - not even our safeword - and I needed him to understand what I was offering. This wasn't exactly his total domination, taking and not asking what I wanted, but I was getting tired of hinting to him. If Jack wasn't going to look for the keys to my proverbial lockbox all on his own, I would just shove them into his proverbial hand for him!
The chain for the cuffs would make too much noise to retrieve, and it wasn't strictly necessary either for what I had in mind, nor was the long leather paddle, but pretty much everything else was, to include a wispy pair of panties. Nude is just wonderful, but for men it's nice for them to unwrap their presents too, and I needed a secure place to put my note so it wouldn't get lost under the covers anyway.
This new ball gag tastes like rubber, and the second I put it in my mouth I realized that I should have washed it first, but it's too late now. The next part is a bit of a trick, not the getting back into bed part, but slipping on the leather cuffs and getting them adjusted correctly, all while reaching through the bars of the headboard. The cuffs are of the D ring through a slot kind that simply can't come off once a padlock is closed in the D ring. The keys are out of my reach, still on the end table along with the noisy chain where I left them, so once I put my arms through the bars of the headboard and close those locks I'm trapped, at least until Jack releases me.
The blindfold doesn't make this any easier, and I have to keep the bed from rocking too, as my very careful movement has already got Jack stirring on his side of the bed. I hear and feel this more than see it, my world behind the blindfold being very dark. I don't know that I'll be able to sleep like this, but I've already done all the sleeping I'd like anyway; it's time to give this selfless, giving man a nice gift of his own…
The lock sounds just a bit loud when I awkwardly fumble with, and then eventually close the final one. The left padlock is only holding the left cuff closed, but the right has the double duty of holding the right closed, and the right to the left. I inadvertently snagged the D ring of my left cuff in my blind fumbling, making the padlock there unnecessary, but the only difference to me was slightly less slack between the two. Putting these things on myself, and getting them locked and secure without fully waking Jack was a challenge, but I'm here now.
I tug at the cuffs experimentally to test my bonds; they are firm and unyielding, and the sexual thrill I get is overwhelming as a result. Mike and I have played with repurposed things to bind me with, bathrobe sashes and belts come to mind, but these are proper cuffs, designed specifically to bind one like me in place and make me helpless. Such represents an expense, not necessarily in actual money, as I can't imagine that they cost a great deal, but rather in effort. Somebody cared enough to shop for and find items like these before the need arose, maybe they even went to a special shop in the big city and tried them on themselves, to see what worked best, telling the store clerk that they were a gag gift for somebody else? Then they shipped all this kinky stuff down here so it would be here when the "need" arose.
Was I not worth this level of interest and forethought, at the bare minimum? I wondered.
I oddly enough feel both trapped, and very safe here though, and to get myself into the proper mindset I imagine that I'm not quite so safe as that. Maybe I've been abducted down here in the islands, and some evil and opportunistic man, or men, have grabbed me right off the street and are holding me for ransom? This seems to be a go-to fantasy for me lately, but it goes along with the loss of sexual control that I crave, so that I can "let go" and act as crazy in bed as I might like, all with a plausible excuse for doing so. Anyway, in my mind I'm chained to some evil man's bed, and when he wakes he's going to have at it; I couldn't stop him if I wanted to. He might even be the sharing type and invite his cohort friends for a go afterwards, but I'll have no choice in that either. I'm a sexual play toy for their ammusement, and the thought makes me boil inside.
These thoughts alone have me really wound up, and I'm getting myself to a wonderful place, fantasy wise, and the real world restraint of the cuffs I've just locked myself in only reinforces this fantasy for me. My legs are sawing back and forth, grinding on each other as I work myself into a frenzy, trying instinctively to get some friction down below. It's been quite some time since I've bound myself to anything, quite some time since I've had to though. Anyway, I had intended to lay there for a bit and get myself all worked up, and to then wake Jack in some creative way, maybe by rubbing my naked leg on his own under the covers. My moving about has short circuited that plan though, and I soon feel Jack's warm hand touch me tenderly.
"Everything okay?" I hear him ask softly, as if he thinks I'm having a nightmare or something.
To his credit he comes up to speed on things in just a few seconds, and from a not quite so dead sleep too. He hasn't found my note yet though, the covers still mostly covering me, and my note and its offer are still tucked half into my panties where I thought he couldn't help but to quickly find it.
I feel Jack kind of half get on top of me, but still under the warm covers, and he holds my head firmly before giving me a tender kiss on my forehead, above my blindfold mask. Next he kisses the tip of my nose where it sticks out under the mask, and then the tip of my chin under the ballgag. It's sweet, tender, and loving, and it's also crashing this fantasy crazy train I'm trying to ride.
I feel him trace his hands up my arms to the cuffs on the other side of the headboard's bars, and then briefly just a bit further to the rings on my left hand; the ones he had paid for, but had not placed on my hand himself. He's tugging on the former to likely see how securely I was bound. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not using any safewords either. Does he realize what this means, I wonder, without even having to read my little note, and the offer I had left on it. I then snap my wrists apart a few times with clenched fists, testing my bonds theatrically while he's still likely watching, reminding both of us that I'm not going anywhere until he lets me. I've gifted myself to Jack, a man who isn't my lawful husband, and without condition too.
I had thought the blindfold would be hot and sexy too, but it has also denied me seeing his eyes, seeing the hopefully hungry expression on his face, and as a result I'm suddenly second guessing myself. Is he less than excited by my offer, my forcing his hand like this and potentially "topping from the bottom?" Or, from his point of view, is this just a not-so-gentle form of playful encouragement, telling him to get to it and give me what I really need? Did I do this with Mike too, force him to take me someplace he maybe really didn't want to, making the prize of my ultra compliant lust conditional on my satisfied kink? And, was Mike having some buyer's remorse almost one full year into this marriage, thinking perhaps that a ring would settle me down, make me more normal, whatever the hell that meant in this modern era? If men can be horndogs, why can't women as well?
…If it was true that normal women had sex to get married, and men got married to have sex, I had thrown that little falicy on it's ear I thought to myself. But, if Mike hadn't figured out yet that I wasn't what most people would call traditional, or normal, this crazy vacation might just be his wake-up call. Very traditional wedding vows; very untraditional wife, how was any man to keep up with me? Mike had lent his very untraditional wife out to his best friend though; who does that but a desperate man, or a foolish one? And, I know for a fact that Mike wasn't the latter…
…Anyway, I know I have to stop thinking if I don't want to crash this second passionate opportunity with Jack in the here and now…. And if on cue Jack pulls the covers half way back and I feel him drag my body to the center of the large bed diagonally, my arms still pinned to the headboard over my head though, the scent of my arousal reaching my own nose. He then turns his attention ever so slightly lower, although I'd prefer he went all barbarian on me, instead of nursing on my boobs as if a hungry babe. It still felt really good, and this was the distraction that I needed, but this was only fanning the proverbial flames for me. I snaked my bound body around on the large bed, my "I need you right now" body language message I hoped properly sent. Was this more topping from the bottom, or just attempting to communicate with your lover as to what you wanted? I wondered to myself.
Jack is ever so slowly working his way towards the grand prize, and I am slowly losing my mind with unanswered lust at the very same time. He starts kissing his way down my concave and empty stomach, but he has to throw the covers from the bed as they're in his way now - and we're both cooking hot anyway - and this of course lets him find my note tucked into the top of my panties. I feel him take it gently from its warm hiding place, and I assume the pause in action is due to his reading it to himself in the soft light.
He then kisses me on my mound, over the top of my panties, and I bear down on the rubbery tasting ball in my mouth and squeal in anguish. I've also rolled my hips towards him by reflex, hard enough to aggressively bump his face with my pelvic bone. I need "right-now," and Jack is instead taking his time, pacing himself, as if he has all night for this… or maybe that he's savoring the moment and wants to make it last! I wanted him to take charge though, and he has, but not quite like I want him to.
Jack knows what I need though, hell a nerdy teenage virgin would be able to sort it out! Incredibly though, Jack kisses his way right past my hot and steamy panties, kissing his way down my right leg, a part of my body that I also know he has some affinity for. These are slow and noisy sensual kisses, and when he gets to my toes he kisses them too, each one individually. I've had men comment on my feet, that they're sexy and small, or some such thing like that, but what I think they really meant was that they maybe liked the heels I wore. Jack is acting like he's in love with each of my toes individually, and he's showing me this in a very slavish and physical way. It's hot and sexy to be honest, but not what I need at the moment.
…I have this cliche floating around in my head, something I might have discussed hypothetically with some of my girlfriends. Submissive men get way into feet, back rubs, smothering you with affection, and even going down on you. Where confident dominant men want to take what they want, attempt to breed you as their biology demands, and if you get something from that too, good for you. I know that's painfully simple, and while men are simple creatures at some level, there is obviously more to them than that; they are way more than overstimulated barnyard animals looking to spread their genes. Anyway, with all that in the back of my mind I still haven't fully figured Jack out, and here I thought I knew him pretty well too. It comes down to takers and givers, and I'm on the verge of an epiphany here, but the events of the moment distract me once again…
The toes of my left foot get equal treatment next, and then he starts his way up my left leg with his endless slavish kisses. I want to be his slave though, at least for bedroom games, and here he is instead somehow mine. His hot kisses eventually approach the apex of my spread legs again, and I'm apopoletic with sexual need. Jack is taking the slow grand tour of my nearly naked and bound body. It's almost new to him in this setting, even though we've briefly "done it" once already, and we've also spent some extended time together on the beach in just our skin. This is different and sexy though, it's our honeymoon bed, and I'm chained to it by my own hand. This man is also my faux husband, and in this setting anything goes. If this was the slightest bit unclear for him, I've even left him a note to find, gifting myself to him with a few simple words.
This is no "we're both drunk and accidentally giving into temptation" moment though; this is instead slow and deliberate. I want Jack very badly, I want to stroke his ego, I want to say thank you too. I also want to be shown that I'm desired, that a man other than Mike wants me for who I am, crazy needy kink and all. Not just for a one night stand though, and not just as a fun sexual playmate either. I want to be "rest of my life, till death do us part needed." That part hints at my deep insecurities though; I look just fine and I have a lot to offer, but I have some baggage too. Confident guys claim to be able to handle such things, but had one of them grown tired of it already, and was he looking for a way out that didn't crush me in the process?
Jack's hands are shaking as he pulls my panties off, I feel it. But I also feel his hot kisses on me down there, and I welcome his skin on skin touch. I'd prefer he just mounted up and rutted into me to be honest, but he's methodically and slowly building something up here, and it's not like I can do much about that anyway. He's sweet and gentle down there, exploring like another woman might, touching, tasting, and teasing my most sensitive flesh.
Jack has real experience with a woman's body, that much is certain, but he also has some trepidation too. The blindfold and gag have accidentally denied him the feedback he might need; denied me the ability to tell him with words that he's doing just wonderfully. I can and do manage this in other ways though, perhaps even hamming it up a bit to be sure he knows. I do this and he responds, it's only half an act though, because he's very good with his mouth. So what if this man wants to serve me like this, I've gifted myself to him, and it feels just wonderful too. I've bought my proverbial ticket, and even willingly strapped myself into this human amusement park ride, and there is just no stopping it now.
…I'm somewhat self focused here, much to my chagrin. I've come to know Jack as single, as in without a woman of his own, and while I'm curious as to why, I've never really worked at discovering exactly why. Such questions have always been brushed off by both boys, as in he's too busy for that, career wise and all. But Jack is all man, and a good looking and sweet one too, it just doesn't make sense. Perhaps he has some baggage too though, and not just in the form of pretending to be married to me to advance his career either…
Jack is bumping my spot with the tip of his tongue, both hands under my ass and holding me up at a convenient height for him to devour, as if I were some kind of two handed sandwich for him to feast upon. My bare legs are on his shoulders and my heels are lightly kicking at his kidneys, as if I'm a cowgirl wearing spurs, and Jack is my mount. He's really good at this, going here and there, then much much lower, which makes me clench up and squeal in response. I'll do that, but I'd prefer to do almost anything else instead, and I think I might just have communicated this to Jack nonverbally.
"No worries, just testing the waters" Jack tells me lightly. Is this something he's into? I wonder. Is his interest in my spankable ass more than just for playful punishment? As per my note these are the first words he's spoken though, and I can hardly blame him for them. His silence is helping me, and other than his scent, tenderness, and few spoken words, this could be almost any man, even a complete stranger.
How could such a topic come up between frends of the opposite sex though? I wonder. "'So, how do you feel about anal sex?'" is something I could never envision the old Jack ever asking me, no matter how much he drank.
Jack could take me "there" anytime he liked, but he's not. He's not being cruel either, but instead building the passion and need, but is this something that men do so that the woman they're entertaining can get all she can from the experience? I don't generally have any problem getting there myself, if things are kinky enough, and here we apparently have that box checked.
Still it is a wonderful and giving way to do things, and when I finally feel little Jack knocking on the proverbial door, he's very erect and welcome. There is little resistance, little Jack not the biggest thing I've ever had by far, but the build up, the foreplay Jack put into this has me very excited and ready. I'm no size queen, and Jack is at least average as compared to the men I've had, but not Mike sized either. I'm more used to that to be honest, but this feels more comfortable in comparison, although I don't exactly know that comfortable is the very best word to use here.
I don't think I would ever tell any man he was "comfortable" either, this sounding patronizing in my brain, and not the least bit like a compliment. Words could easily crush a man, and I had accidentally flirted with that with Jack already, and I had no desire to do so again, here or anywhere else.
Wow does this feel good, I don't know if it's his size, or the incredibly long build up and foreplay, but I roll my hips cooperatively as he sinks his comfortable self in me to the hilt. There is a "slap" noise associated with that, thighs hitting thighs, and it sounds erotic to me in the silent room. Jack once again bends me in half, my ankles near my ears, and I come to realize that this particular position has the dual effect of allowing him to not only go as deep as possible for his more average self, but increase the friction for him down there as well.
I'm just in sensory overload, the cuffs, blindfold, and gag, his firm hold on my ankles, the slap of our bodies coming together, all of it pushes me into a toe curling and squealing orgasm like ten seconds in. Jack rides me right through it, I'm squirming around under him, but I'm really not going anywhere either. My big convulsing orgasm doesn't yet trigger his own though, which is just wonderful. Jack has me rocking back and forth on the bed in time with his thrusts, and I feel my breasts rolling on my chest in time with his efforts. It feels great, but not "I want to get this done in fifteen seconds" great, his pace is more like one of a distance runner in competition, rather than a hundred meter sprinter.
Despite his more average size Jack is giving one hell of a show, this way better than what I remember of his more frantic and brief performance the other night, but alcohol had been involved, for both of us. I'm snorting now, not really getting quite enough oxygen in through my nose, but that in combination with the rhythmic slap sounds in our quiet room are unmistakable; should anybody be in the room next to ours and listening. I can't see a thing, and it's easy enough to pretend that some stranger is having me instead, but I don't have to as Jack is doing wonderfully as Jack.
I then roll my hips a little, trying to get little Jack to a specific spot as he saws in and out of me, my reward like somebody threw an electric switch in my brain when everything is in the proper place for me. It seems almost like one of those old horror movies to me, where they have somebody strapped into the electric chair, and they then throw the big switch and the sparks fly. In the horror movie the poor soul in the chair pulls as hard as his body can as the voltage is applied, trembling uncontrollably as if having a seizure, and here in bed with Jack I do much the same.
I don't know if he can actually "feel" what he's bumping into in there, but he can't help but to see and feel what it's doing for me. This giving man isn't selfishly in this for himself though, and cooperatively he lift up on my ankles a little as I struggle frantically for him, I squealing into my ball gag like a tortured soul in some horror movie dungeon. What follows feels like a two minute long continuous orgasm, although I think that might not be medically possible, but such was my perception at any rate.
I was so wrapped up in my own orgasm that I'm not entirely sure if Jack has popped off himself, or not, but the squishy sounds of Jack's shorter strokes in and out of me surely make it sound like he has. I'm a juicy mess down there, and the sounds we're making together are purely obscene, like a plunger in a clogged toilet. He's still hard though, I feel that, but when I stop twitching he disengages anyway. He then takes my blindfold off, and removes my gag, which lets in some much needed oxygen, my legs released and splayed wide on the bed left and right of him.
"Are you okay?" Jack asks with some concern in his voice.
"Better than just okay, that was masterful and magnificent!" I tell him, gushing with praise.
"Did you…" I started to ask.
"Cum? No, not yet anyway."
"Oh, that just won't do. Where do you want to finish up?" I then ask, his hard erect self bobbing between his legs comically.
"Should we?" he asks. I know what he's asking, this is like playing Russian roulette, and the more times he pulls the proverbial trigger, the closer to the irreversible big bang we both get.
"What's done is done, man up and take something for yourself for once Jack…"
To be continued...