1 comments/ 36777 views/ 0 favorites Dutch Treat By: benatoa I've been working as a guide for mainly European tourists for a few months now. My story concerns a Dutch lady I met while she was taking a week long tour of the North East of the US, with me as her guide. Our tours cater for small groups of 4-5 people that wish to have an in depth tour of a place, and leave all the planning etc. to us. This particular group were work colleagues who were on holidays together. Anna was in her mid 40's I'd say, tall with long blonde hair, and a pleasant smile, but I can't say I had any attraction for her, or other women for that matter. On the first night of our tour I received a phone call from reception to tell me that a member of my tour party wanted to talk to me and would i like to take the call,I replied yes, and was instantly put onto Anna. She sounded like she had been drinking, her speech was all slurred, but she was cogent enough to ask me to her room. When I asked her why she said she was too embarrassed to talk about it over the phone. I had just gotten in to my room after a bit of food downstairs and was still dressed in my guide's uniform. I was waiting for an age outside Anna's door before she answered. She looked disheveled,she had just a tank top and panties on, her makeup was running. She had clearly been crying. She was sobbing, I immediately went to console her by wrapping her in my arms and telling her everything is going to be alright.After a while she calmed down enough for me to get her to sit down on the bed with me and tell me what had happened. Her partner at home in Holland had left a message to tell her that they should split up, giving an excuse of an age difference; her partner was about 15 years younger than her, and just out of college, and clearly not mature enough to even talk face to face. I was still in my early 20's myself and was very uncomfortable trying to console a far older women from another country in her hotel bedroom. The bit that really shocked me was when she passed me a picture of her partner, her partner was a 'she'.A similar age to myself, similar build and the same auburn colour hair. She said she couldn't call the others as they didn't know about her female partner and wanted to keep it quiet. I told her I understood and was happy she called me, I tryed to tell her everything would be ok. After a while she started to come round and settle down, she went to pour herself a large brandy and poured one out for me also.While I never really noticed her until then, I must admit that she was very hot looking in her little pink panties and matching tanktop, I hadn't been this close to another woman since my school days. It's amazing what not having a boyfriend for a few months, and no sex can do to your sense of horniness, a dildo doesn't have quite the same effect on me as the contact of another body. Anna went on to tell me all about her relationship with Claire. She had left her husband for Claire about 6 months ago,coming to the realisation that her marriage was a sham and that she was really only interested in the love of a woman, how she had fought the urge for years for the sake of her marriage but meeting Claire had changed all that. Sure, she had used female prostitutes in the Red Light District in Amsterdam while she was married, but that was only to salve her lust when she was married, she thought that Claire was 'the one'. All this talk about female lovers was making me feel very embarrassed and horny at the same time. Embarrassed because I had never been in such an uncomfortable position before,I could feel my face go bright red and my pulse quicken. Horny because all this talk of female partners and prostitutes with Anna looking stunning next to me had my nipples stiff and sticking out through my bra and white blouse, this also had me embarrassed. I knew i couldn't leave her with the state she was in, this was going to be a long night. After a few drinks Anna was getting very 'touchy', her right hand was on my lap touching my black skirt and matching stockings as they met just above the knee. Her hand began lightly massaging my thigh, with her hand slipping under my skirt and up my stockings. I knew full wel what she was doing but didn't want to stop it, it was nice to feel the contact of another person again. She just started to hold me, cuddle me, and then kiss me lightly at first and later with real passion. The feel of her kiss was so different to a man, her tongue sought out mine. For someone that had taken a few drinks earlier she really seemed to know what she was doing, she was taking full control. Her hands began unbuttoning my blouse revealing my erect nipples in my light brasserie. She pulled my bra down from my breasts and began kissing and then sucking them making them more rigid. The sense of feeling from my nipples was very strong, her sucking was sending shivers through my body. Her right hand again went down to my legs but this time I could feel it move up under my skirt beyond my stocking tops and slowly crept towards my very aroused clit, more shivers went through my body when I felt her fingers on my clit, as she continued sucking on my nipples. She had me lie back in the bed as she unzipped my skirt and began pulling it down, revealing my plain white panties. She kneeled by the side of the bed directly between my legs, pushed my legs apart and began to pull me towards her face. I let out a loud cry that could be heard several rooms away, as I felt someone orally pleasure me for the first time in my life. She pulled my panties to the side and immediately began prodding my engorged clit with her tongue. I could feel the muscles around my pelvis tighten and a sense of the most exquisite pleasure shoot through my body, this was light years better than any dildo. Her tongue kept up it's work on my clit, as her right hand left my breast and she inserted two fingers into my pussy and began using them like a dick on me. All this was sending me towards the most explosive orgasm I had ever had, I could feel the muscles around my pussy convulsing as my orgasm took hold. I left out a long scream of "Oh my God", as my juices began to flow from my already wet cunt Anna began to lap them up with her tongue. I knew if I accpeted Anna's advances then that night would be about sex for me, not love or anyting like that, it was just something that I badly needed for myself, a one night fling with a stranger. What I got was the most amazing sex in my young life. I had mixed emotions about whether it was right to allow Anna do this in the state she was in, but she was the one that made the advances. Dutch Treat This story contains details of wife sharing so please don't read it if that bothers you. * * * * * Twenty-five years ago my wife and I went for a long weekend in Holland. It was part business, part pleasure. On the Friday I had a meeting with Marc, whose company I'd done business with for several years and with whom I'd become very friendly. So much so that on the two previous visits when I was on my own I had stayed at Marc's flat, rather than a hotel. So on this occasion Marc insisted that we stayed with him and that seemed preferable to some anonymous hotel. My wife Kim had never met Marc before and when I introduced them on the Friday morning Kim said she was pleased to finally meet him because she had heard so much about him. She said that with a wry smile because I had told her several stories about Marc. I think it's fair to say that Marc was a quite a character. He was good looking, extremely charming when he wanted to be and very outgoing without being over the top. That combination meant that he could charm the knickers off a woman faster than any man I had met. Kim is quite conservative and I was the only man she had slept with, so I think she rather disapproved of Marc's revolving door approach to girlfriends (and in truth I'd only given her a toned down version of his love life). So she started off being quite sceptical about him, but it was noticeable that his charm soon began to work on her and she warmed towards him. I couldn't blame her - Marc was blessed with a really pleasant, likeable personality. For his part I could guess that he found Kim attractive, and that was understandable because she was in her prime - early twenties, medium height, long brown hair, a beautiful face and a lovely figure with gorgeous 36D tits. On the Friday afternoon I had a business meeting, then in the evening Marc and his girlfriend Arantxa took us to a Chinese restaurant. Despite her exotic sounding name Arantxa was actually rather plain to look at; slightly buck-toothed and distinctly flat-chested, she came a very definite second to Kim in the looks department. By the end of the meal I was starting to feel rather sorry for her because she was obviously very taken with Marc, whereas to Marc she was clearly only going to be around until someone more attractive came into view. Still we had a very pleasant evening - thank heavens for the fact that nearly all Dutch people speak excellent English. We got a taxi back to the flat and then opened some wine. None of us got drunk and anyway I was aware that I had another business meeting in the morning and then a barbeque in the afternoon which was part business, part pleasure. So we turned in just before midnight and the alcohol meant that Kim and I went straight to sleep. The following morning I had a short but productive meeting and then it was back to the flat to meet up with the women and head off for the barbeque. Kim and Arantxa had done a spot of local sightseeing in the morning and were just relaxing with a coffee when we returned. The barbeque didn't start until 4pm so there was plenty of time to chill out before we all had to get showered and changed. Happily it was a hot and sunny day, so Kim was able to wear the light summery dress she had brought. By her standards it was rather daring because, although it went to just below her knee, it was strapless, with bare shoulders and showed a bit of cleavage. In fact Kim did ask me if I thought it was too much and whether she should wear a skirt and blouse instead. I assured her it was fine and it certainly was by me; I rather approved of the fact that my slightly unadventurous wife was loosening up a bit. Still I think we were both surprised to find that at the barbeque women were heavily outnumbered and that although there were about thirty people present, only six of them were women. Fortunately Kim was getting on well with Arantxa, so she didn't feel isolated and too dependent on me (because inevitably there were times when I ended up talking business with the Dutch guys). I couldn't help but notice that Kim was the best looking woman there and it was obvious that some of the men were taking an interest in her. I saw several men eyeing her up and noticed how frequently men offered to refill her glass. For her part Kim was conscious of this attention and in truth slightly flustered by it. Several times I caught her surreptitiously tugging at her dress in an effort to minimise the cleavage on show. It was actually quite sweet because she wasn't showing much compared to the amount you see some women putting on display. To be honest I was slightly preening myself on the fact that I had such an attractive wife and later in the afternoon that feeling intensified. Kim bent over one of the tables to sort out a drink and her dress slipped slightly. This meant that the front gaped open and I had a wonderful view inside it. More importantly it was clear that the two men in front and to the left of me were able to see as much as I could. The lovely firm rounded shape of her breasts was very obvious and there was no missing her prominent dark aureole and erect nipples. She straightened up and immediately noticed both men staring at her and realised that they had been treated to a real eyeful of her lovely breasts. She blushed and turned away, not realising that I had witnessed the whole scene. I was very aware that my prick was fully erect and I had to furtively adjust my trousers so it was less obvious. What came to me with a shock was that I wasn't erect because of the sight of Kim's breasts. I was erect because two men had been staring at my wife's body. I knew they must have been lusting after her, aware of their own erections and (beneath the civilised veneer of the barbeque) full of a primitive desire to spread her legs, force their cocks into her cunt and fuck her until they fired their sperm deep inside her. The very thought was leading to a copious amount of pre-cum leaking from my cock and with no prospect of relief I plunged into a conversation with one of the Dutch technical staff and a few minutes talking about specifications and European standards did the trick and calmed me down nicely. Still my eyes were on Kim and Arantxa as they circulated and chatted to people. The barbeque was a great success, not least because of the hot weather, which meant that people didn't start to drift away until well after dark and it was nearly midnight by the time the taxi pulled up outside Marc's flat. We'd all had plenty to drink, but Marc insisted on a nightcap and in the end it was nearly two in the morning before we headed for the bedrooms. Marc paused in the doorway with his left arm around Arantxa. "We can swap if you want," he said, talking to me as if the women weren't there. "It would be nice," said Marc laughingly. I was caught off guard and panicked into a reply. "No, we've all had too much to drink. Let's get some sleep." Marc smiled and shrugged and we headed into our bedrooms. Kim unzipped her dress, slipped it off and then removed her knickers. As soon as she was naked I pulled her down onto the bed. Alcohol or no alcohol I was desperate to have sex with her. I positioned my prick against her cunt lips and was pleased and a bit surprised to find that she was very wet. She cried out as I thrust deep inside her, my mind ablaze with incredibly vivid sexual images. A dark corner of a Dutch garden - one man pulls down the front of Kim's dress exposing her tits, he kisses and fondles them, whilst another man pulls her knickers to one side and rams his prick into her wet cunt. A Dutch bedroom - Arantxa gasps and groans as my prick thrusts in and out of her tight cunt, the sound of my wife urging Marc to fill her pussy with sperm carries through the open door. I wanted to say something to Kim - to tell her why I was so excited, but it was no good. My prick beat me to it, firing burst after burst of cum into her. I clung to her, neither of us saying anything, before finally I rolled off and we both fell asleep. I woke first in the morning and lay there in the half-light. I could only think of one thing - Kim on her back, her eyes shut tight, her mouth open in a perfect O as another man fucked her. My cock was stiff and I had a burning desire to wake Kim in a way I'd never done before - by pushing my cock into her cunt. That seemed too outrageous and I just couldn't do it. Then after a while I heard sounds and movement and it was obvious that Marc and Arantxa were up and moving about. I woke Kim and we both got showered and dressed with nothing more than the usual small talk. Over breakfast there was no mention, not even a hint of Marc's suggestion that we swap partners. That didn't surprise me really, but I did wonder if someone might have referred to it. After a late lunch and a pleasant stroll along the nearby canal it was time to pile our bags into the car and head for the ferry terminal. As we said our goodbyes I kept a careful eye on Marc as he hugged Kim. There was nothing untoward, no hidden touches of her bum or bust; it was all perfectly normal and friendly. I think it's fair to say that over the next few days I kept thinking about what I'd seen and my response to it. I wanted to say something to Kim, but worried that if I told her about my fantasies she would be deeply offended. Still it did occur to me that I was the one who had said no to the suggestion from Marc. Kim hadn't said anything, so it was certainly possible that she was open to the idea. When I thought about it I realised that we had been married for five years and I was the only man she had ever slept with. It did seem possible that she was regretting her lack of experience and was wondering what it would be like to sleep with another man. I know if I'd only ever had sex with Kim I would have been wondering what other women's bodies felt like; not really in an adulterous, two-timing way, but just in a curious way. The following Saturday night we were having sex and having just shared a bottle of wine we were both in a pleasantly relaxed frame of mind. I decided it was the ideal time to raise the subject. "What did it feel like having those two Dutch guys staring at your breasts?" "What do you mean?" said Kim, suitably startled. "I saw them looking down your dress, and I know they liked what they saw." "It wasn't my fault; I didn't do it on purpose." "It's alright - I take it as a compliment that other men eye you up, it means I've got an attractive wife. You know Marc finds you attractive don't you?" "What makes you say that?" "Well for starters the way he wanted us to swap partners on Saturday night." Kim looked at me in a genuinely surprised manner, almost as though this was news to her. "That. He was joking. Why, did you think he was serious?" "Yes I did." "Well don't worry there was no way that was happening." Kim looked at me more seriously. "Why, are you interested in swapping?" "Well...I don't know. Not exactly I suppose, but I guess there is a small part of me which finds the idea appealing." "Well it's not happening - I'm certainly not interested." This clearly wasn't taking the route I'd hoped for, so I decided to let the subject drop. We saw Marc later that year at a trade exhibition in London and ended up as part of a group going to a restaurant in the evening. It was clear that he got on well with Kim, but nothing sexual happened, or indeed seemed likely to happen. Then there came a major surprise when Marc landed a job in New Zealand. Despite the distance we still kept in touch occasionally. He ended up marrying a New Zealand girl, but they split up after a couple of years. Fortunately there were no such problems for Kim and I. Of course we had our ups and downs, but basically we were happy. I did still drop the occasional hint about spicing up our sex life and got quite a surprise when one night she said that perhaps if everything fell neatly into place she might consider swapping. I asked her what she would consider the ideal circumstances and she said possibly if we were on holiday and met an attractive couple, then being away from prying eyes and with a few drinks to relax her, she might just be persuaded. That seemed like a big step forward, but still nothing happened. Sure we went on holidays and the odd weekend away, but there were never any suitable couples. Gradually it dawned on me that it wouldn't just happen, we would have to make it happen. So I suggested to Kim that we use the Internet to find someone, but she immediately vetoed that saying it didn't appeal to her. I tried to change her mind, but she wasn't open to persuasion, so I left it alone. Things stayed like that for a while, but then twenty five years after that weekend in Holland I got an email from Marc saying he had business in England in a month's time and he was only twelve miles away from us, so did we fancy meeting up on his last night? I asked Kim and she said yes and immediately suggested that Marc could stay with us if he wanted. He replied saying thanks, but his firm had already booked the hotel so he might as well stick with that. It was great meeting up with him after all that time. Of course he'd changed - we all had. His hair now had a fair bit of grey and he needed glasses to read the restaurant menu, but he was still great company. He was lucky; he was one of those people who had a gift for making people feel at ease and relaxed in his company. Certainly Kim responded with a sparkle and enthusiasm that knocked ten years off her age. Not that she looked her age. Despite the fact that she was forty-nine her natural good looks and regular visits to the gym meant that people often didn't believe that she was in her forties. Part way through the meal she excused herself and went to the toilet. Marc turned to me as she weaved between the tables. "Kim's amazing, she's hardly changed. We have, but she looks just the same, you're a lucky man." "I know," I said. "Don't think I don't appreciate her, I do." "I have to tell you something. You remember that barbeque at Eindhoven." I nodded. "Well I didn't dare tell you, but afterwards Kim was the talk of my department. I think every man at the barbeque fell in love with her." "In lust with her, you mean," I said, thinking of Kim bent over that table with her tits on display. Marc laughed. "Alright, in lust with her then." He paused. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but what the hell it was a long time ago. Two of the guys told me they got a perfect view down the front of her dress and that she had the most gorgeous tits they'd ever seen." Immediately I had a vision of a quiet corner of a Dutch garden - one man was sucking Kim's tits, whilst the other thrust vigorously between her thighs. My prick was fully erect. "I know," I said. "I saw them looking." "You saw them looking. You never said. Weren't you annoyed?" "Not really. It turned me on." Marc went to say something, but then saw Kim returning and whatever he was about to say was left unsaid. Kim sat down and the conversation continued as before. However something had changed. To say there was a tension in the air would be overstating it, because Kim certainly didn't notice anything. However I was aware of something; perhaps there was the subtlest of erotic charges in the air. Whatever it was I was sure that Marc could also sense it. We stayed longer than expected in the restaurant and Kim suggested that rather than get a taxi back to the hotel, Marc could sleep in our spare room. He was happy to do that because all he had to do tomorrow was pack and head for the airport so he didn't need to make an early start. It was just after eleven when we left the restaurant and I got in the front of the taxi because the driver wasn't familiar with the area where we lived. That meant that Kim was with Marc in the back. She made a jokey remark about all Marc's past girlfriends and that I shouldn't trust him in the back with her. I just smiled and said that I was sure she was capable of looking after herself. Marc insisted that he wasn't to be trusted with Kim. The temptation might be too great was how he put it. It wasn't long before we were back at our house and it's quite likely that nothing further would have happened if it hadn't been for the mildly incompetent electrician we'd employed to do some work five months ago. Ever since then we had been plagued with bulbs blowing at random intervals. That night we stepped into the hallway, I flicked the light switch, there was a brief flash, then the bulb popped and we were stood in darkness. The circuit breaker had kicked in, so I knew I had to go through into the kitchen and flick a switch on the fuse board then we could get the rest of the house lights on. I took a step in that direction and Kim joked that I shouldn't leave her alone in a darkened house with Marc. "That's right," said Marc. "I warned you I might be tempted." He looked at me and I could see that he wasn't completely serious, nor was he completely joking. There was an obvious question on my lips. I hesitated, and then took the plunge. "What might you be tempted to do Marc? Do you want to see what those men saw at the barbeque all those years ago?" That subtle erotic charge which had been hanging round in the background was suddenly ramped up by a thousand watts. Kim's eyes widened. Marc gave me a probing look as though he was trying to judge the seriousness of my intent. I said nothing, but held his gaze in as cool and as level a manner as I could. The silence was suffocating, though I was painfully aware of my heart pounding away in my chest. Finally Marc broke the silence. "Yes I would like to see what they saw." I stepped back towards Kim and undid two buttons on her blouse; a lacy red bra came into view. "What do you think you're doing?" Kim said, pushing my hands away. But I came straight back and unbuttoned the remaining two buttons on her blouse. I went for the zip on her skirt but Kim pushed my hands away. Again I tried and again she pushed me away. I grabbed both of her wrists and slammed them against the wall above her head. "Remove her skirt Marc." Marc pulled the zip down, tugged at her skirt and it fell to the floor. I released her arms. "Stand still with your arms by your side." Kim did as she was told. I pushed her blouse off her shoulders and it slid down and joined her skirt on the ground. Her breathing was shallow and fast, her eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly. "I want you to show Marc your breasts," "Paul," she said, looking at me imploringly. "Show Marc your breasts." We stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, then slowly and with trembling hands Kim reached behind her back and released the clasp on her bra. She slipped one strap off a shoulder and then the other. Her bra fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed in all their glory, the erect nipples pointing sharply forward. "Now take your knickers off." "No." I stepped forward, grabbed her knickers and ripped. There was a harsh tearing sound and a pair of torn red knickers were thrown to one side. I immediately took hold of one of Kim's hands and led her through into the lounge. No lights were on, but the curtains weren't drawn and yellowy street lighting provided dim illumination to the room. I backed Kim towards the settee and reluctantly she sat down and allowed herself to be guided into a lying position. As I stepped back she put one hand across her breasts and the other between her legs so that she was modestly covered. "Take your hands away." Slowly, reluctantly she removed her hands. "Now spread your legs and ask Marc to fuck you." "Please no, don't make me do that." Dutch Treat "Do it - spread your legs and ask Marc to fuck you." When the words came it was a barely audible whisper. "Please fuck me Marc." I sat in one of the armchairs while Marc undressed. Quite possibly the Marc of twenty five years ago would have rushed to strip himself, but now he took his time, a quiet smile on his lips, as though he was savouring the moment. Finally he was naked, his erect cock swinging lewdly in front of him. He moved towards Kim and I realised that she had pressed her legs together. With a gentle push Marc prised her knees apart. There were no preliminaries, no foreplay. Marc lay on top of Kim, their eyes locked on each other. Neither of them paid any attention to me, it was as though I wasn't in the room. Suddenly Kim gave a sharp gasp and I guessed that Marc had found the entrance to her pussy. Then Marc thrust and Kim cried out as after thirty years of marriage her cunt finally yielded to another man's prick. It seemed strange, almost an out of body experience, watching my wife being fucked by another man. Their bodies merged together in the intimate mixture of shadows and soft yellowy light. Marc's backside rose and fell as he thrust into Kim. He thrust harder and she responded by locking her legs round him, drawing him in close. It was too much for Marc, he gave an inarticulate cry and a final powerful thrust as he emptied his balls inside my wife. It was clear that Kim hadn't come and oddly she stroked and comforted Marc, as though consoling him for the fact that he had cum sooner than he intended. They lay almost motionless, except for Kim continuing to stroke the back of Marc's neck. Finally he raised himself up with his hands then climbed off Kim. I stood up and started to unfasten my shirt. "Your room is immediately facing the top of the stairs. I'm sure you can sort yourself out." Marc looked at me and nodded, that quiet smile on his lips. He picked up his clothes and left the room. I finished undressing and looked at Kim - she spread her legs wide in invitation. The room was dimly lit, but I could see her dark slit and the white of Marc's sperm trickling down it. I mounted Kim and my prick slid between her cunt lips. Her slick wetness was incredible to feel. I gave it to her hard and fast, ramming into her, making her gasp and groan. "From behind. Take me from behind." That's her favourite position and I was more than happy to oblige. I raised myself up and Kim turned over. With one foot on the floor and one on the settee she presented her cunt to me. My cock slid back inside her and I started fucking her again. I gave it to her really forcefully, thrusting hard in a way that pushed her forward and flattened her against the settee. I continued to drive into her and was rewarded with the shuddering and gasping which signalled her approaching orgasm. A few more thrusts took me over the top and then I gave a final extra deep thrust. My cock jerked and jerked inside her, firing my sperm into her cunt and mixing with the load Marc had released a few minutes earlier. Kim shuddered and moaned beneath me as the most memorable fuck I had ever experienced came to the perfect conclusion. We lay quietly for a while, then picked up our clothes and trooped wearily up to bed. Nothing more was said and we soon both fell asleep, my brain replaying the images from earlier as sleep overcame me. It was after eight in the morning when I woke. I looked at Kim alongside me and immediately I thought that for the first time ever she had two men's cum inside her pussy. I wondered what she would say about the events of last night. I would find out soon enough because I could hear Marc moving and I'd promised to drop him off at the station by 9:30. I slipped out of bed and went downstairs and began to prepare breakfast. Within a couple of minutes Marc appeared and a minute later Kim joined us. It was almost as though last night hadn't happened. Nothing was said, the conversation was perfectly routine, just chit chat about Marc's return flight to New Zealand. Nevertheless there was the subtlest of changes in our behaviour. I can't put it into words, but somehow without saying anything we all seemed to acknowledge the physical intimacy of last night. It was soon time for me to take Marc to the station. He hugged Kim goodbye, kissing her goodbye in the manner of friends, but not lovers. At the station I went out onto the platform with Marc. As he prepared to board the train he shook my hand. "I do not know what to say. Last night was very special, I will be in touch, but thank you - it was a night I will never forget." "Yes, it was special, very special. I hope we meet again sooner than in twenty years time." "Yes," said Marc. "Come to New Zealand - it's a wonderful country and you know that my door is open any time." Marc boarded the train, it left on time and then I had the short drive home. I wondered what Kim was feeling, what she was going to say. I was confident she wasn't upset, but I couldn't be sure exactly what her reaction was. I stepped into the house and Kim was in the kitchen tidying a few things away. She smiled and came towards me. To my surprise and delight she unfastened my trousers and released my cock. "Can we go to bed?" I was only too happy to oblige and soon our bodies were locked together with a passion and urgency that I think surprised us both. Laid together afterwards I had to ask her about the events of last night. "How does it feel - being fucked by two men?" "It was very nice, but very confusing. All the time my head was telling me to stop you, but my body was telling me something else. Anyway you were in a very forceful mood, you didn't exactly take no for an answer." "True, but to be honest I felt I had to push you if anything was going to happen. Alright I took a risk, but you could have stopped me if you'd really wanted to." Kim didn't say anything to that because she knew it was true. She's not some weak wimpy female - if she had really wanted us to stop then Marc and I wouldn't have been in any doubt. "Did you enjoy it?" I asked her, needing to be totally clear on this essential point. "Yes I did. I'm surprised how much I enjoyed it; it was probably the best sex I've ever had. What about you?" "I've always wanted to watch someone else fuck you, but I did sometimes wonder if it would actually be a disappointment. It wasn't." "You enjoyed watching Marc fucking me?" "Yes I did." "That's strange," Kim said with a laugh. "Wanting to watch your own wife being fucked." "Maybe it is, but apparently it's a common sexual fantasy, though many men won't admit to it. At least we've got the sort of relationship where we can talk about it." "And do something about it," said Kim with a smile. That was a month ago. We were on an erotic high for about a week after that night with Marc. We made love every night and talked about how we'd felt and how it had turned us on. We're agreed that we might do something similar if a suitable opportunity arises. One odd side product is that since that night Kim says she feels more attractive, more confident of herself as a woman. I hadn't realised that she needed some reassurance, but I guess it just shows that you shouldn't fall into a rut and take your partner for granted. There's no doubt that our night with Marc jolted us out of the rut we were in. Dutch Treat The North Sea it was not. The setting sun flamed the waters in a last burst of color as darkness spread over the gentle surf closer to shore. The lights of the beach hotels and condominium towers flanking her to either side seemed to gather themselves to cast their light onto the increasingly inky waters. A stray breeze shimmered across the pool waters; gentle lapping sounds and a ruffling of the leaves in the pool gardens. Caressingly it caught the grey fabric of her bias cut dress; the silk felt cool and gentle across the skin of her bare legs. It also caught her perfectly cut shoulder-length blonde hair. A tendril of hair strayed over a high cheekbone – her face was a classic Nordic frame - and into one of her jade green eyes. She replaced it with an athletic economy of motion that spoke to her continued training. At 41 she was as toned and fit as she had been 15 years earlier. Her marathon times were testament to that, though her body had a soft rounding at hips and breast rather than the severe frame of the hard-core runner . She tensed and relaxed her legs – lean, long, fit (still supply strong enough to win the odd "for fun" ski race on the annual trips to the Alps). She turned and the plate glass fronting the pool offered up her reflection. Middlingly tall, she peered at herself severely. Her man of many years insisted that, having mellowed from the freshness and angularity of youth, she had grown into one of those lasting Northern beauties. "Superb" he would always say. Soft, natural, much more alluring and with a naturalness a vast gulf away from the Barbie or the Stepford wife. "You are my bohemian top executive, my model who can outrun me in a marathon." And he would go on as he caressed the length of her back with his nails, or a silk tie. He admired her and praised her, at length. She turned sideways and scowled at the distant reflection. For her part her bum was too big and her B cups ("gently swelling perfection he called them") a shade smaller than she'd like. The hairdresser had added a tad too much curl to her hair, which irritated her (she'd been doing emails at the time). The North Sea it was not. Normally she ran early or with a group of serious runners in remote places. Today she had run along the beach (bikinis but almost no toplessness, the Americans were such prudes) and back on the hotel-side road. She had been wearing black tight shorts and dark pink t-shirt. Today she was more aware than ever of the bounce of her breasts. She had noticed cars slowing down; and occasionally she had made eye contact with male drivers rubber-necking to get a look. She had pulled her shoulders back slightly, to accentuate the bounce. Thereafter cars had slowed even more, those turning out of junctions to kindly allow her to pass and then accelerated very slowly behind her. She had smiled; it felt good to be thus admired. The din of the event grew. The cocktail hour had spilled out of the bar area. They had taken over much of the hotel. The two organizations had brought senior teams to celebrate the partnership. The other side was an odd one, well-travelled people from New York and Midwesterners of very different values. She ought to go back. Taking a deep breath and luxuriating in the heat of the evening, she refocused. As Chief Operating Officer she was also acting chief of staff to the hyperactive, perfectly coiffed CEO. As chief of staff she had to keep the event on schedule. It was time. Their room was directly above the pool, with a broad terrace facing the ocean. She glanced up at it, expecting some sign that he had tired of the sheer corporateness of the event and was rebelliously nursing a drink. She smiled. Years ago he might have done that. Instead she saw his profile and his well cut suit several windows down left of the restaurant door, not far yet probably ten minutes if the throng were to be navigated. He was focusing intently on two people she had identified as important, gently articulating something (probably her virtues) and looking every inch the partner of a global firm that he was. She had a long and determined stride, and covered the distance to the terrace in short order. The breeze gathered pace and it stiffened the nipples under the silk of her dress. She progressed through the increasingly dense knots of people, past the temporary bar towards the restaurant. She looked for the Manager. He was from Geneva. They spoke French as they huddled between two vast potted trees, which did not provide the hoped for sound barrier. As their exchange drew to a close she noticed a tall man in a dove grey summer suit standing, shades of Shakespeare, behind the tree. The severe white of his shirt and silk handkerchief were complemented by a soft blue textured tie. What struck her most was a sense of muscled tension, and his dark complexion. A lean face. Dutch East Indies perhaps? He was looking, no staring, at her with intense appraisal and, it seemed, admiration. She met his eye expecting him to flinch. Instead his dark eyes locked on hers. She had a severe face when she discussed business matters – a protective mechanism from years of building her career – and she knew she was armored in it now. Yet it did not seem to put him off at all: a gentle smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. The Manager touched her arm. She turned back to him and swiftly settled the outstanding matter. Turning back she saw that her admirer had not moved, indeed he had pulled a wayward branch aside and was slowly appraising her up and down. "He is undressing me with his eyes" she thought "how fucking brazen is that for an event of this type?". She locked eyes with him again. And then she had to turn. Dinner was predictably dull. Afterwards she and her love had a whisky together on the terrace and stared at the ocean. They spoke in soft tones – there were other balconies within earshot – and were able to leave half complete sentences in the air, thoughts left unsaid. They were tired and had leisurely, gentle sex. She asked to go on top and came quickly when he pulsed his cock in her. He was up early for his run and had left her a note wishing her success. "Imagine me cupping your perfect ass during your speech." he wrote. "I'll be on a conference call in the room much of the afternoon. We have a table at the Matador Room at 8 – looks slightly absurd but worth a whirl. Love." All that is his semi-legible scrawl. She mulled that over. She'd be done by 11 and decided to book a massage for 2pm. She glanced at the ipad brochure. Lots of white. "Pampering among the palm trees...art deco and exfoliation...and the absolute best Brazilian bikini waxes on the planet... Expect thousands of square feet of tension-fighting facilities.." blah blah " bienvenido a Mi-'aah'-mi!". Really? She'd had a Brazilian just before coming. She liked the feeling of smoothness, the sheer naughtiness of having herself completely exposed. She loved it. So did he. He always liked to tongue her after a Brazilian, tracing along her labia. But pampering? "Treat yourself, your mind and your body to almost two hours of pure bliss, the ultimate relaxation session. Recommended for athletes." She rang down. No she did not mind that no masseuses were available for that treatment. The sports masseur would do. She was done by noon because the CEO engaged in another example of high-energy chaos. She brought matters back to order. Half the senior team were now her direct reports, leaving her better able to manage things. She went to the gym, over air-conditioned as it was, and did weights after running sprints on the new self-powered treadmill. The Dutch East Indian (?) was at the rowing machine. She admired his muscled arms and back as it rippled under a lycra t-shirt. At one point he glanced up and stared at her, but more abstractly. This time she had been smiling. His face was impassive. He glanced at her tight t-shirt. Involuntarily her nipples stiffened and she felt a small rush of blood. The spa lay beyond the gym, long white corridor. As she walked towards the locker room she saw the rower had left his machine and was at the far end of the gym in line with her. Staring. Assessing. She checked in at the desk. She felt his eyes burning in her. As she left she heard footfalls and, glancing, saw him enter the men's locker. In the ladies locker room she showered and put on the paper granny panties she'd been given. Robe tightly belted she went to the treatment room, silent footfalls in a silent corridor, left and then right. The masseur was all American muscle, but athletic like a European football player not an American one. He was pushing 2 meters in height. A white, white smile had made some Miami dentist richer. He was also a decade and more younger than her. "Ma'am please lie face down" She nodded – and unspoken I-have-done-this-before. "I normally cover with towels." His sentence left unspoken. A smile. Miami was a tremendous ego boost. Tall dark and handsome men undressing her with their eyes, drivers focusing on her not the road, and a thirty year old jock eager for her to lie naked before him. She let the silence of the room sit between them. He turned to allow her to arrange herself. She could see he had a view in the mirror and angled herself to best effect. She dawdled about the unknotting of the belt before shrugging the robe of her shoulders. She let it slip down in the mirror, a slow exposure of back and of side of breast. She loved massages and the slight hint of naughtiness they offered. She lay down, face in the padded rest, closed her eyes and began to relax. He draped a towel over the paper granny panties and began to trace his fingers over her scalp. Long lines of gentle pressure from her hairline, through her long blond mane along to her neck. One hand then the other, slowly and rhythmically. She felt warm oil puddle on between her should blades and then fingers began to spread it in soft waves up to her neck, over to her shoulders, down her back, a starburst of relaxation. Fingers softly tracing vertical patterns. She fell into a dreamy trance. There was a click of the door. A tensing of surprise in the fingers and, presumably, the rest of the masseur. A voice, unfamiliar, slightly accented. Eyes opened she saw freshly showered dark legs and the bottom of a white robe. "My wife had asked if I could help". It was not her husband. No indeed it was not. A crinkle of paper being passed. Presumably nods. How fucking self-assured is this rowing fellow? Did he really assume she'd accept this? Yet before she could raise her head from the rest she felt a new set of hands gliding along her feet even as her masseur moved ahead of her and again began to trace fingers up and down her back. "She's a lucky lady, and beautiful too Sir" Fucking men. This masseur, barely out of his youth, was shamelessly sucking up to the staring rower and ignoring her as though she was a submissive object. And yet the stroking felt good. "Where are you from, Sir?" Enough conversation. He agreed. "Surinam... but let's be quiet for my lady". Cocky bastard. No doubt more winks. The massage felt good. The masseur was applying slightly more pressure now, longer strokes down. To reach her lower back he had to stand touching the headreast. Long strokes up and down, lines of pleasure. She opened her eyes: he wore tight yoga shorts and a stiffening cock was plainly visible. The long strokes continued, deepening in intensity. He pushed closer, his hands reaching her lower back just above the towel line. The cock swelled under the black fabric. She closed her eyes Mr Surinam was at her feet. He had oiled his hands and begun very carefully, stroking each toe and then making squiggly lines along the soles of her feet. He started on her calves. He spread his fingers and covered the width of her calves with long strokes, but at a different pacing. The variance in speed and pressure above and below created a swell of pleasure that radiated throughout her body. One hand. Two hands. Three, four. Warm oil. Stroking, tracing, kneading. Mr Surinam moved to her thighs. Muscles relaxed as his large hands now stroked the length of her legs. His hands moved up and down in unison. One, he rose from ankles to a few inches above the knee. Two, his hands traced down and back up, thumbs tracing her inner thighs and hands rising two inches higher. Three, hands traced down. Pleasure. She counted above. Four, hands stroked down to lower back and slipped under the towel to trace the top of her bum. Five, up and down again, hands sliding to the side of her ass where no panty coverage existed. Six. Hands rose warmly oiled up her legs. Thumbs gently prised her legs slightly farther apart and the hands rose to just below her bum. Seven, above and below the hands stroked, stopping each time at the frontier of the towel, her last line of... defense? A hand moved the towel. She heard it fall and crumple on the floor. Hands above and below. Gliding, stroking, flattering; four hands making twenty points of pressure and pleasure. Hands that edged her legs farther apart so thumbs could trace and slide up her inner thigh almost to her paper-clad pussy. A rush of blood to her pussy. The glow of pleasure. She almost purred. Were her panties wet below? Hands below and hands above met at her the side of her ass and then she sucked in her breath as fingers hooked the side of the panties. Feline-like she shifted with pleasure and raised her hips to accommodate the hands. She was being undressed by Mr. Surinam. She was naked before two men and she was choosing to submit to this, this what? Her mind was flooded by the wave of pleasure as, with tantalizing slowness, hands traced up her back and down the side of her legs (dragging her panties with them). She had arched her hips to make it easier, thrusting her ass in the air. She tried to not revel in the shamelessness of it. Hands now rose and kneaded her ass cheeks. She lost track of where the hands were as they rose and stroked, motions intertwining and sensations of every muscle relaxing. A low throb was building in her pussy. Mr. Surinam's hands edged her legs wider. He now had an unencumbered view of the bottom of her waxed pussy. Hands traced farther up. She heard Jock Masseur breathing more deeply. She opened her eyes to an impressive bulge in lycra. "Turn over". The accent, the suddenness of the voice left her involuntarily compliant. Am I really doing this? She was. She turned. She opened her eyes for a moment as she did. They were gazing at her hungrily. Her nipples were at attention. She gained her bearings and, closing her eyes and surrendering to sensation, lay on her back. Jock Masseur traced her sternum but now he was not so deliberate. Hands reached down and traced under her breasts, around her breasts and over her breasts. Fingers began to roll her nipples before reaching over her tummy and back up. "She has nice tits, doesn't she" said Surinam. "Yes sir" was a mumbled reply. Mr. Surinam meanwhile was gliding his hands up her legs. Firstly to her knees and down. Then to mid-thigh and down. Up to mid-thigh and out to her flanks. Down and up to her hips. She tensed. Down and up and oiled fingers began to trace her labia. Hands slowly spread her legs. It felt like a minute as hands both traced her lips and spread her legs ever so slowly. And then she was splayed, completely exposed for two strange men. A finger ran the length of her slit. Her breasts were being massaged harder now and the masseur's breathing had deepened yet again. Below she felt a finger push past her pussy lips and into her. She was wet and on fire. The finger was at one knuckle, then two. The finger penetrated deeper and then curved up a bit. She heard herself moan as though it was from a third party. She was being finger fucked now. "She is so wet, come feel", and so they changed places. Another stranger's finger entered her, thicker and longer, faster moving. Masseur liked it, for he was breathing harder. She felt a hand on her head. She was being turned so her head faced to one side. Opening her eyes she noted that Surinam's robe was off. He had a long cock with a slightly bulbous head. He did not trim his hair, but there was not too much of it. His balls were big, even and looked ready for release. He presented the head of his penis to her, advancing it to her lips. He traced her lips with the head. "Open" he said. She did. His cock tasted of shower and a faint residue of soap. His hand slid into her hair, twining tendrils, and he slid his swelling penis deeper into her mouth. The room was mirrored and she could see his muscled ass. The cock hardened, filling her mouth. She tried to back off but he held her in place, edging gently forward. The finger was gone from her pussy and her legs were spread wide, very wide. Now there was a tongue on her slit, seeking her clit. Hungry tongue-laps were enthusiastic, unskilled and yet enjoyable in their vigor. Surinam's cock was at full mast now and he held her in place as he began to fuck her mouth. Below Jock masseur had settled into a gentler and more effective buzzsaw near her clit; this produced a sudden surge. Surinam slipped his cock out and moved closer to present his balls to her. She began to trace her tongue over them and around them. He pulled away and she found herself being placed on her hands and knees. Jock Masseur moved round front as Mr Surinam positioned her knees apart, pussy and now ass on show, her rosebud asshole no doubt fully on view. Masseur was naked now. His cock was average in length but thick. Uncircumcised like her love's, he pulled the foreskin back to reveal a rich red cockhead. She dropped her head but one hand raised her up and the other hand placed his cock at her now open mouth. Behind a hand grabbed her hip as Surinam used his other to guide his cock into her sopping pussy. Two hands on hips, then one tracing her back as he fucked her. In. Out. In faster, out faster. Motion increasing. A cock was in her mouth now. He'd shaved. He pushed deeper, he wanted her to take the length in, right to his impressive abdomen. He lifted a hand up and encouraged her to massage his balls, then underneath his balls. He forced her wrist further back. He wanted her to finger his ass? She did, and she sucked, but Surinam was driving into her now. Full lengths. Deep. Frankly she was losing track amid waves of pleasure. She did not want to overthink this. They switched places and now Masseur was fucking her as Surinam proferred his cock to her. She normally did not like to suck herself off a cock, but she accepted the dark length and, tasting herself, tried to take as much as she could even as he grabbed either side of her now disordered blonde hair. She reached back with one hand to touch herself, for an orgasm was close now. They pulled back and placed her on her back. Easier for me she thought, how thoughtful. Her hand began to manipulate her clit even as she noticed her hips being raised and a bolster placed beneath. Masseur climbed on the table, knees either side of her head, and she was tonguing his balls as he stroked his cock. And then she understood what Surinam wanted. She was about as openly spread and open as it was possible to be and he was placing an oiled and throbbing cockhead at her ass. The head popped past her hole and into her. He was sliding in. She was tonguing the underside of Masseur's balls and then between his balls and his ass. Surinam was sliding deeper into her ass, gripping her hips as he did. He was incredibly stiff. Her hand at her pussy was moving briskly. It was a blur, she was even tonguing Jock Masseur's ass briefly. Surinam was assfucking her, this brazen stranger. Surinam had buried most of his shaft in her ass and she felt him beginning to thrum. Masseur's cock was in her mouth. Hands on her tits. Surinam was out of her ass and spraying cum on her pussy lips and belly. Masseur came in her mouth and on her face. She came, powerfully. She shuddered and moaned. She moaned them off the table. Dutch Treat What does one say after that? Nothing. They left, Masseur first (gently placing the towel and her robe by her, a muttered "thanks that was great"). Surinam second, without a word. She lay spread-eagled and cum covered on the table. She looked over. The door was left open. A man was there, surprise and arousal in his eyes as he took her in. Cum trickled on her cheek. He hurried off when she caught his eye. After a long moment she rose and cleaned the most obvious mess off. The locker room was silent and empty. She masturbated again the shower, legs twitching and slightly crumpling as she came. Then she packed her gym kit in a bag and left the spa, bathrobe tied, but not knotted.