12 comments/ 40309 views/ 12 favorites A Summer Romance By: ukresearcher Note: Over a period of a few years I wrote three stories with a mystic theme. The first two were 'The Man' and 'Lunchtime shopping'. This tale completes the trilogy. ***** This is probably not the kind of story that you want to hear. At the time of the two incidents they seemed almost unbelievable and now nine months later the memory has all the elements of a dream. The trouble is that my wife Debbie has the same memories and she was more directly involved. My name is David Pike, I am 30 years old and employed as computer manager of a small software office. I am just better than average height and I like to think slightly better than average in looks. To finish the picture, Debbie will laughingly tell you that I also just manage to beat the average in more intimate physical respects - though how she came to be an expert on the subject I thought it better not to enquire. We have been married for six years. My wife is three inches shorter than me and three years my junior. To adequately describe the light of my life requires a separate paragraph because to simply say ' a sight for sore eyes', though true still does not do justice to Debbie. Some girls peak at sixteen when the appearance of untouched freshness is a large part of their appeal but most of these suffer from the fact that after their mid twenties they are definitely past their best. Debbie is the opposite, a self-confessed wallflower at school; she has improved over the years like good wine until now (aged 28) she has matured into a vibrant exiting woman. At some point in her family tree we suspect Greek ancestry because her skin retains an appealing olive darkness even in the midst of the longest winter. She has black shoulder length wavy hair, dark flashing eyes and a face that makes my heart melt. Figure wise, she is just slightly on the voluptuous side of perfect and her legs are far better than just good. Had I dedicated myself at school instead of wasting my time chasing girls it is possible that I might have become an archaeologist. Now with what I feel to be my true vocation barred to me, the best that I can do is avidly read up on ancient history and visit the sites whenever I can. Last year Debbie suddenly asked, "What do you think about us taking separate holidays this year?" I was immediately suspicious. "What are you planning to get up to?" "I'm not planning to get up to a damn thing except have a proper holiday instead of trailing round after you from one godforsaken pile of stones to another." I have to admit that our holidays for each of the previous three years had borne more resemblance to an archaeological field trip than a conventional sun and sea holiday. Until this small rebellion I had managed to convince myself that Debbie got almost as much out of historical holidays as I but now I quickly looked for a compromise. "How about a Greek island? There are some with a lot of history. We go together, you visit some ruins with me and I do the things you like and where there is a real conflict we can separate just for the day." My wife was very pleased with the suggestion and gave me a warm kiss of approval. "I'm glad that I am not going by myself," she said. "I don't think I would have had any fun at all." Looking her up and down in a blatantly lecherous way, I said, "I think that you might have had a great deal of fun - but not the kind that I would have been very happy about." This remark was enough to set her slinking towards in a sexy way and the next moment my hands were all over her. Suffice to say that it was much later that we returned to perusing the holiday brochures. After nearly six years of marriage we still enjoyed a full sex life as they say, 'full' - at times it was positively running over the top of the cup. We eventually arrived on our Greek island. For a good reason I will not mention which one and neither will I name any archaeological remains that could identify it. Not that I actually saw much, apart from a couple of popular excursion type sites. The first day we arrived, as I turned away from the desk I saw a swarthy gigolo type male talking persuasively to Debbie but he hurried away as I approached. "What did he want?" I asked. "What did he want or what did he say?" she laughed. "He said that he had a spare ticket for something or other and wondered it I would like to join him. He wanted what all men want." I joined in her laughter. "A handsome guy like that - you should have snapped up the offer," I joked. "Then I could have gone to see the Cretan obelisk in peace." "You are the only handsome guy that I want," she said sincerely squeezing my arm. By the afternoon of the following day I was drawing a great deal of reassurance from her declaration because men seemed to come out of the woodwork to pester her. I only had to leave my wife unattended for a couple of minutes to find some male talking intensely to her often with an arm draped casually round her shoulders. I puzzled why she was suddenly such an attraction when there had been no similar phenomena in previous years. The answer was possibly twofold. On other holidays we had tended to only come in contact with more serious minded people but I think the true reason was that Debbie had recently bloomed into an exceptionally desirable woman. The net result was that I cancelled all my private plans for the rest of the holiday, deciding that to leave my lovely wife unaccompanied for any length of time would be asking for trouble. On the fourth day we had booked to go on an excursion to visit a famous cave. The Tourist Guide said it was a very large cave complete with subterranean lake which had to be crossed by dingy in relays - this making the full tour just over two hours in duration. My non geological interest lay in wall markings on one of the levels, reputed to have been made by prehistoric men. We had walked halfway to the bus when I glanced sideways to notice that Debbie was still wearing the high heeled sandals that were seldom off her feet, (she claimed that flat shoes made her legs look fat). I pointed out that they were hardly suitable for climbing about in caves so we hurried back to change. While back in the hotel room, I said that although her low cut blouse and short wrap over skirt might be adequate, it might pay to take a warm jumper that she could slip on in the depths of the cave. The net result of this delay was that instead of being early (as I liked to be), we were the last couple onto the bus. It was obvious as soon as we climbed aboard that there were no longer two seats together. This was rather annoying because I knew it was a good hour's drive to the cave. Looking ahead as my wife preceded me down the isle I saw that the two spare seats would both mean sharing with males. The first was a young guy aged about twenty. He had almost white sun bleached hair worn in a ponytail which was balanced by a short whispy beard on his chin. He was wearing sandals, very short cut off denims and a tee shirt - it was also obvious even seated that he was unusually tall. I mentally slotted him automatically into the student, beatnik, beach bum category. Some three seats behind, the other choice was an elderly man with rather long white hair and wearing very old fashioned pince-nez spectacles. Not surprisingly Debbie plonked herself down in the first available seat. Passing by I saw no danger - the kid was hardly a threat and I would be sitting where I could keep an eye on my wife. I found myself seated next to my dream companion because he turned out to be a world famous archaeologist. I had read at least one of his books and remembered it very well. I think that the old chap welcomed having me as an avid disciple for during the journey he told me at length about his long career. He had worked at all the places that I had read about, Egypt, Turkey, Greece, Mesopotamia and South America, excavating Assyrians, Tolteks, Sumerians and a host of others. The journey seemed pass in a flash and I was so engrossed in his revelations that I quite forgot my wife sitting three seats in front. He had just started telling me about a startling new excavation in Egypt that had not yet been published when the bus pulled at our destination. Frustrated that he could not continue divulging this privileged information, I stood up and said, "Please tell me the rest on the return journey." He shook his head and said that he was being met and taken on to a non public excavation. "The car will come for me in about an hour and I will be staying on the bus until it does." Thinking fast I got off the bus and went to where my wife was waiting. "I hate to spring this on you darling but would you mind going round the cave by yourself. Couldn't you go with that young bloke you were sitting with?" To my surprise there was a look of absolute dismay on her face. "It's not a good..." she started to say but I was not in the mood for objections. I had bent over backwards to accommodate her wishes and I was never going to have opportunity to get data straight from the horse's mouth again. "Look," I said firmly. "I want to stay on the bus to hear lots of stuff about Egypt. I will never get this kind of chance again so please be a good girl just this once and don't argue." For a long moment her eyes held a torment of indecision, she started to speak, stopped and then the look in her eyes changed. I cannot say what to because I had never seen anything quite like it before. With a smile she stood on tiptoe to kiss me quickly, murmured, "Whatever you say", then scampered eagerly away to join the other sightseers already lining up to start the tour. It turned out that I had sacrificed my wife's company for very little. My guru had lost his flow, there was not that much more to tell and to cap it all, the vehicle he was expecting turned up in less than half an hour. The old chap registered my disappointment and gave me a consolation. "You may not know that there is a much smaller cave but it is far the more interesting of the two. It is believed to have been used for over 10,000 years if the earlier occupation levels are contemporary with the wall markings in the large cave. Few people know about it and the locals that do won't go near because they believe it is a mythological site - they might very easily be right." The old gentleman then told me that there was free access to the cave and gave directions how to reach it. We shook hands and as I walked away he was being helped into an official looking limousine. Starting where the group had gathered I followed the path round towards the entrance to the main cave but paying particular attention the left hand wall. As expected I found what would appear only as an alcove to any casual observer but stepping inside it turned into a narrow passage which led in a rising clockwise direction. The passage was so narrow that any fat person would be unable to pass through. I could tell that sections had been made by the erosion of water but the lager proportion showed signs of having been laboriously cut by hand untold years ago. After ten minutes, round a final bend I arrived at the cave entrance, ducked my head and stepped inside. It was small only in comparison to its larger brother for it was quite a large cave. The floor looked like deep dry sand and high above there was a hole in the roof, blackened by millennia of wood-smoke from ancient cooking fires. I took in no more detail because at that moment I realised that I was not alone. My first intimation was the heavy breathing, which seemed amplified by the acoustics of the cave. Seeing nothing, I was on the point of deciding that this was just some weird effect of the wind when I saw two pairs of legs sticking out from behind a boulder on the opposite side of the cave. The fact that one pair legs was on top of the other told me that it was a couple having sex and that knowledge gave me an immediate voyeuristic thrill. I must point out that there was limited light coming through the hole in the roof and even less from the entrance so the interior of the cave was comparatively dim. They must have been taking a short rest because I saw the female's legs rise up on either side of him as he resumed movement. As mentioned, a large boulder concealed most of their bodies and a much smaller rock further blocked my line of sight. Taking advantage of the fact that the pair were fully engrossed in each other, a quietly moved a few paces to the left to where I could se much better. From the new vantage point a discarded wrap-a-round skirt of the type my wife was wearing could be now seen - it was also the identical colour. I found no significance in this because it was a popular garment, (much more feminine than the equivalent mid length shorts) and there were a limited number of suitable colours. I did scan my memory without success for a female amongst the assembled of sight-seers wearing the same skirt as Debbie but I had hardly given that crowd a glance. It was very apparent that the male had an exceptionally long dick. He was slotting it into her with real gusto and without being able to say why, I could tell that she was enjoying every second of it. After watching for some minutes I was sporting my own quite substantial erection and contemplating the risks of moving closer to appreciate the action in greater detail. I had actually taken three paces forward when the screwing stopped and the male pushed himself up so that his head appeared over the top of the boulder. I froze thinking how foolish I would appear should he spot me but immediately my immobility was prolonged for a far more dire reason because I had recognised the very fair hair, pony tail and whispy beard as belonging to youth who had shared his seat with my wife. I looked hard at the female legs. They were very nice legs but I could not be sure. You may wonder how a man cannot recognise his own wife's legs but I must point out that the light was bad, it was at a distance, my view was obscured and the legs were waving in the air. I also wanted desperately for the legs not to belong to my wife. When she spoke I knew for sure. "I'm cumming. Ok Colin, fuck me hard." The words were so familiar - but not the name. She even used the same intonation that she used with me. I have to say that he hit the bell. With me, on the scale of the fairground hammer game, I gave her orgasms scoring consistent 70's, 80's and 90's, only actually ringing the bell about one time in twenty. This bastard got the jackpot on his first fucking try. The question was - what should I do? If I dashed forward playing the outraged husband to cause the ultimate 'coitus interruptus', what would it achieve? Penetration was effected, he had already made her cum and I could easily be too late to prevent him ejaculating his stuff inside her - (had Debbie not been safely on the pill it might have been a different calculation). To make my presence known would embarrass my wife and create a crisis in the marriage of a magnitude that might be avoided if I handled the matter in a subtler manner. I should mention here that I was not in the position where I might throw the first stone. There could have been a deal of satisfaction in beating hell out of the man but, although we were possibly of equal weight, he had four inches and ten years on me, not to mention the fact that he looked a damn sight fitter. From the sounds issuing from my wife's throat I knew that she was enjoying one of the minor orgasms that with her always followed a big one. From my own experience I thought that he would soon be unable to prevent matters moving to a conclusion and that placed me in imminent danger of being discovered. The argument against causing unproductive embarrassment still being applicable, I proceeded to make a stealthy retreat from the cave. Making my way back down the narrow passage, I was amazed to find that I had been watching them shagging for about half an hour. Back in the bus, I had just finished smoking my second cigarette in succession when the large cave exploration party reappeared. Debbie and the beach bum were among them but walking separately. As Debbie walked down the bus isle, I tapped the seat beside me to indicate that it was free for her to join me. She sat down quickly, leaning over to plonk a kiss on my cheek as she did so. "How was it?" I asked. "Fantastic," she said. At that point her recent lover walked past on the way to his seat, looking studiously the other way. Debbie was looking at me, her eyes aglow, and failed to see him pass. I said nothing and neither did she but unusually she held my hand tightly all the way back to the hotel. It was not until after we had eaten and retired to our room that I started to question her. "Tell me about the cave," I said. "I don't know what to say - it was just marvellous." "While I was waiting, I spent time reading about it in the brochure and there are a couple of things that are puzzling me," I said, holding the leaflet open where I could glance at it but my wife could not. "How long is the subterranean lake - I mean how long were you actually on the water?" She sat pretending to think so before she could even attempt an answer, I asked. "How many could get into the dinghy at a time and how many trips did it take to ferry everybody across?" Debbie looked uncomfortable. "I didn't actually..." she started to say but I broke in with a different question, "Tell me about the young man you sat next to on the bus." She gave me a look of sudden understanding and said slowly, "I was going to tell you about him...I think." "Got to know him well did you?" "You seem to know that I did," she said. "His name is Colin and he is just finishing a year out from university. He was born in Sweden but spent a large part of his childhood on this island. For the last eight years he has lived in Australia. In three weeks he goes back home to finish his studies but during the past year he has worked on a kibbutz in Israel, he has unloaded boats somewhere and also spent some time in Thailand. During the past month he's been revisiting his childhood haunts." After giving this succinct summary my wife paused. "That's all that there is to tell is it?" I prompted. Debbie shook her but her words were almost inaudible, "No, I'm afraid there's more." She lit a cigarette slowly and when she continued speaking her voice was much stronger, "when we first got on the bus, there were some of his things spread on the seat that needed to be moved before I could sit down. He looked up with the irritated expression that you get when you have to share a seat at the last moment but when he saw me he just stared. I had a similar reaction. His eyes are an incredible blue and when I looked into them I got this incredible jolt. In a strange way, I felt that I knew him very well and yet I am sure that I have never met him or anybody like him in my life. I was so flustered that I sat down without thanking him, my heart was pounding and I could not understand what had happened to me. After a few minutes he offered me a sweet. By this time I seemed to have myself back under control, so I turned to him and smiled, trying to make up for my earlier rudeness but a soon as I looked at him the palpitations returned even worse than before. I sucked the toffee in silence and when it was almost finished he held out the packet offering me another. This time I shook my head taking care not to look at his face. 'At least tell me your name exquisite creature,' he said." My wife stubbed out her cigarette and lit another, taking a quick glance at my face as she did so. "I told him 'Debbie' and then he asked me to tell him about myself. I realised that I had to talk to this man because the only alternative was to sit beside him for another hour feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl. My emotions were totally out of control - I knew that he was too young but that didn't seem to make any difference. I said that women liked to remain mysterious so he must tell me about himself first. He was eager to talk. I listened, only taking occasional glances towards him and always avoiding his eyes. To do this I had to keep my eyes lowered and this meant I had to look at his legs, which was nearly as bad. They were really long and he was wearing only tiny shorts. His legs were very brown and covered in thousands of curly golden hairs - and just looking at them made me feel hot. It's the first time in my life that I have ever been turned on by a man's legs. They were so long that, to fit in his seat, he had to bend one sideways into my space. It did not actually touch but the hairs kept brushing against the hairs on my leg and it felt as if millions of tiny electric sparks were leaping across the gap. I could feel myself getting so wet." A Summer Romance Debbie threw a longer look at me that seemed to contain a mixture of defiance and apology. "His life story was coming to an end so the only thing I could do was flirt with him. Men think women flirt to lead them on but it is often more of a defensive strategy. A man crowding a woman is in control but flirting lets her regain the initiative because men are always unsure how to handle it. Sometimes really boorish men can be made to go too far and finish up looking foolish. Anyway, I started to flirt thinking it better to have him openly chasing me instead of me silently wanting to throw myself down before him. Once I had started, I really went to town, actually rubbing my leg against his and at one point getting something from my bag without lifting it onto my knee, bending down so that he could get a good look down my dress. It worked because instead of being tentative he started getting bolder. I could allow myself to be really daring because I had you as a safety net. No matter what I led him to expect, at the last minute I knew that I could pull the plug and waltz off into the sunset with your arms around me. I have to admit that I pretended to myself that I really could do everything that I hinted to him because if it had not been for you I would have done it like a shot. I have never wanted a man so much in my life - even you." A trace of a smile on my wife's lips seemed to indicate some humour in what she was about to relate. "As we reached the destination he took the plunge by telling me of a little cave that he knew about where nobody went 'It has a soft sandy floor and is completely private so we can really get to know each other,' he said. The coach had just stopped so I gave him a big smile saying 'I'd love to Colin,' and his face lit up as if he had won the jackpot. It was very cruel and maybe I was getting my own back for the way he had made me feel - I waited a moment and then said, 'The trouble is that my husband might object - unless you are inviting him too.' Colin looked at me completely bemused, asking 'What husband?' 'The one sitting three seats behind us,' I said laughing. He was enough of a sport to see the joke and laughed too. I was nearly safe, so to give Colin something to compensate for his disappointment, (also because I badly wanted to do it for myself), I ran my hand right up his leg, gave a quick squeeze and leaning towards him whispered, 'Believe me Colin - If would if I possibly could.'" She paused for breath and I thought I could detect an ironic turn to her mouth. "I scurried off the bus before he could say anything. All that I wanted was the protection of your arms around me and I was determined not to move an inch away from you all the way round the cave. I wasn't safe though was I? You actually told me to go with him which was exactly what I desperately wanted to do. Even then I tried to argue but you weren't listening. There was an impatient look in your eyes that I have never seen before and it seemed to say, 'Do whatever you like as long as you don't bother me'. I got angry and thought it served you right if I did let Colin screw me. I know now that I was only justifying myself. On the other hand I had almost promised Colin ' I would if I could' - that is the same as saying 'I will if I can' and you had just made it possible. I pushed to the head of the queue to where he had just started talking to two other young guys and a girl. Slipping my arm though his I said, "I would like to see the other cave after all.' It was crazy - I knew exactly what we were going to do and I knew that it was terribly unfair on you but I couldn't seem to help myself." This was getting close to the nitty gritty so not unexpectedly, Debbie need the support of a fresh cigarette before continuing. "We were walking along with the others when Colin suddenly pulled me sideways and I found we were in a very narrow passage which led upwards. After several minutes we reached the cave and I was surprised because it wasn't really that small at all. We walked across to somewhere near the far wall to where the sand on the floor seemed softer. From the moment he had pulled me away from the others I don't think we had exchanged a single word. Still without saying anything we got undressed and I lay down. Colin got on top of me and fucked me." Her confession complete Debbie looked at me fully for the first time as she awaited my reaction. Whatever I might have said, I don't think she expected me to ask, "Has he got a big prick?" She nodded upon which I said, "Very big?" Again she answered with her head so, to make her speak I asked, "How big?" Seeming puzzled by my preoccupation, Debbie shrugged her shoulders and said in a resigned way, "A lot bigger than yours". I had intended to follow up by asking, 'Did he make you cum?', Was it good?', 'Was it better than with me?' but I didn't bother because I already knew the answers. My plan was to torment my wife by making her reveal ever more intimate details but I realised that I would be only torturing myself with that line of questioning. Now there was nothing to say so I just sat and looked at her while trying to assess exactly how I felt about what she had done. "Honestly Dave, I can't understand it because I have never done..." she started to say but then stopped in confusion, her face going bright red. "What have you never done," I said, smiling slightly at her discomfiture. "I was going to say that I have never done anything like this before but it's a lie because I have. I had completely forgotten about it until this moment." She looked around as if seeking a way to escape, seeming more upset about what she now had to reveal than she had in relating the afternoon's infidelity. "About three years ago when you went abroad for three days with your firm, I went out one night with a married girlfriend from work. Somewhere along the line we hooked up with a guy that she knew and his mate. They bought us a whole lot of drinks and we finished up at her house - her husband was away somewhere as well. There was more drinking, she was necking her chap and after a time he was sucking her breasts. I was pretty drunk and it seemed important not to seem stuck up, so I let the bloke I was with put his hand inside my blouse and I rubbed his thigh, touching his cock but not actually playing with it. There seemed nothing wrong with a bit of heavy petting. Then it became obvious that she was going to finish up in bed with her chap and that was too much for me so I pulled her into the kitchen and told her so." Even as she spoke Debbie was shaking her head ruefully at the memory. "Sandra said that I was stupid and asked what I thought you would be up to in Germany. Then she went on to say that the secret of dealing with a husband's unfaithfulness was to get your revenge in first. I remembered when you first joined the firm you told me about someone in your office going on one of these trips. You said that if his wife got even a hint of what he got up to, she would have him in the divorce court without his feet touching the ground. In my confused state, I decided that Sandra was right. In the bedroom the man was so inebriated that I had to put the condom on his dick for him and then he had no sooner got it inside me than it was all over. Next thing he is fast asleep so I ring for a taxi and go home. It all seemed something and nothing so I forgot all about it until just now." My wife was now looking at me with real distress in her eyes having revealed herself to be a tart rather than having yielded to a moments overpowering infatuation. I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way because the time had come to unburden myself. "Sandra was right because I did get up to no good in Germany. " I felt almost light hearted because in a strange way, hearing now about my wife's earlier infidelity let me accept the new one somewhat easier. To explain this inverted psychology I will tell of an unrelated occurrence. At an auction, a vase that I thought to be perfect was knocked down to me for a ridiculously small amount. Filled with elation I was unloading that and other purchases from my car when I clumsily knocked a small chip from the rim. Using super-glue, I stuck the fragment back in position. There was some gratification in noting that the break was almost undetectable but I was still despondent that the bargain perfection was destroyed. Subsequently examining my work under a magnifying glass, I was surprised to find that the vase had suffered similar damage at some time in the past and had been as efficaciously repaired. This made all the difference. I had paid a fair price for damaged goods that were still very pleasing to look at and this made the result of my carelessness, neither here nor there. Debbie was waiting for me to elucidate on my own misdemeanour, so I explained, "On the second night of the trip, they took me to a restaurant and then to a casino. After that it was a strip club where there was lap dancing. There was some touching but nothing much happened except that I drank a lot. Back at the hotel, everything was a blur and I was ready for bed but the guys got more drinks and then some girls appeared. I can remember snogging with one and squeezing her tits but then I woke up the next morning with this girl naked in bed with me. I didn't believe that I could have done anything with her and not remember. Then she woke up, put on a dress and some shoes. I turned part away as she did this so I didn't see her put on any knickers but she possibly wasn't wearing any to start with. I still thought that I was innocent but just before leaving, she kissed me on the end of my nose and said, "Nice one." This left me with the worst case scenario of having the full guilt trip without any remembered pleasure to show for it. It has been on my conscience ever since, so you going with Colin lets me off the hook and evens the score - I am happy to let you throw in the trigger happy guy as part of the deal." My wife looked at me with disbelief for a moment and then said, "You mean you forgive me?" It only took one smiling nod and she was in my arms. While embracing I did reflect on the difference between male and female psychology - where my small dalliance had hung round my neck like an albatross, she had been able to put hers completely from her mind. Inevitably we quickly gravitated towards the bed. I could tell that she had already been fucked and perversely that excited me to even greater frenzy. The sex was pretty hectic and when her orgasm arrived, I had hit the bell complete with flashing lights. I cannot claim the full credit for this because I suspect that Debbie was still supercharged from having had Colin up her a couple of hours earlier. After eating we screwed some more and there was extra ferocity to our lovemaking for the rest of the holiday. In a quiet moment the next day, Debbie took my hand and said sincerely, "I promise darling that I will never do anything like that again," - but then she gave a little laugh adding, "But if we do bump into Colin, just keep a very tight grip on me." It is perhaps natural that I did keep a wary eye out for my wife's seducer. Several times I thought it was him only to find that I was mistaken but twice on leaving the hotel I spotted a figure in the distance that I felt certain was the youth. On another occasion when going somewhere on a bus this motor bike roared past as speed. Attracted by the noise I caught the merest glimpse of the rider but something told me that it was him. We didn't talk again about what had happened, partly because we were having such a good time but I did think that it might come up for discussion after we had returned home. Actually I thought about it a lot and wondered if Debbie had again managed to banish it completely from her mind. I had forgiven my wife on the basis that her mini affair cancelled my own transgression but I still had not understood how Colin had persuaded her to go with him so easily. Since then the daily parade of nubile femininity with bare breasted nipples thrusting proudly at the word had subtly altered my perspective. Given a couple of hours spare, if any one of them offered herself to me, I was no longer convinced that I would refuse the opportunity. On the penultimate full day of the holiday we had planned to visit the volcano. Someone pointed out that hiring a car was cheaper than going on the coach excursion and this is what we did. It turned out that hiring for two days was little more than paying for one so we kept the car for the last day. We had agreed a nice secluded picnic so I threw a map of the island in front of Debbie and told her to choose where we should go. She looked a little uneasy and then said, "No - you pick. It might turn out to be an absolute disaster and I don't want to do anything else to put myself in your bad books." Laughing I concentrated on the least popular coast of the island and selected a stretch without any sign of human habitation. Heading there later, I followed a series of lanes and parked about half a mile from the sea. After walking along the cliff top for about five minutes, looking down we saw a perfect little cove. "Pity - it looks as if the only access is from the sea," I said but Debbie disputed this saying, "There is a way down a little further along." Very doubtful I walked forward and was amazed to find the promised path leading downward. "How the hell did you know about this?" I asked. Debbie looked blank for a moment and then said, "Surely it's the obvious place." I had to put this down to famed female intuition because to me there was nothing obvious about it at all. The path was precipitous, narrow and in places badly eroded. It got so hairy that at one point I would have given up had not my wife pressed on with some urgency but we made the beach safely after being preceded most of the way by the clatter of dislodged stones. The cove was about 200 yards wide but the fall of a section of cliff had separated the far third into a section to itself. We walked to the-mid point and spread out the towels. As had become customary, Debbie quickly discarded the top of her bikini but surprisingly retained the lower part - I had thought that that the seclusion gave the perfect opportunity to go as nature intended. It was a delightful spot and for half an hour we lay contentedly watching the waves, watching the seabirds, enjoying the silence and soaking up the sun. I was sitting up to open the picnic basket when I noticed movement at the point where the path led up to the cliff top. With a feeling of dismay I recognised the tall figure of Colin and wondered how he had managed to descend the cliff without us hearing him. He was walking slowly but steadily directly towards us. I glanced towards my wife to see if she had seen him and found that she was already standing, facing his approach. When he was still a few paces away, she turned and walked away to disappear between two great fallen blocks of cliff. Without even a glance at me he followed. After a moment's indecision I got up and went after them. The gap through which they had disappeared turned out to be an oblique metre wide break leading to the far section of the beach. Lying in the middle was the discarded lower portion of Debbie's costume. I stepped over it but then got the impression that the errant pair had stopped just on the far side of the passage, so not wanting to blunder into them I retraced my steps. Instead I walked down to the sea to get round by the far end of the obstruction. As soon as I turned the corner I could see that they were already fucking. Very conscious of the peculiarity of my behaviour, I approached to within five feet of the copulating pair and sat down on a rock to watch. I cannot say that it was jealousy that I felt. I was certainly all knotted up inside but it was not like the jealous feeling inspired by imagining her being unfaithful early in the marriage. Maybe having already seen my wife take another man's cock inside her modified my feeling on witnessing this repetition. I lit a cigarette mainly to still the trembling in my hands. They did look good together and I had to admit that he was prodigiously well hung. His body was lean and taut with a consistent tan all over. My wife was also very brown but with white marks on her hips where the bikini had tied. For a time I was fascinated at the way the muscles of his thighs and buttocks flexed as he powered into her. She was moulded against him with her breasts mashed against his chest. It seemed so bloody natural - as if it was meant to be. They seemed to have boundless energy and a very obvious physical compatibility. Time seemed to have no meaning for them. I went through several cigarettes as they avidly explored each other's bodies - I think that had I not occupied my hands I might have masturbated for I was sporting a very painful erection. Several times during pauses and changes of position, both of them looked directly at me without seeing me - as if my image made no impact on their consciousness. They continued to fuck with increasing dedication. Debbie could certainly take it - I knew that I would never worry about hurting her again. When he finally made her cum, it got though to me because that fairground analogy was out of the window - this was a different league altogether. "Colin, Colin, Colin, fill me like you did before," she cried, "I have always needed you so much." Then making sounds like a banshee, she rode the heights of passion, thrusting herself wildly back at him and issuing shrieks of ecstasy that made my hair stand on end. He was caught up in the maelstrom, for while my wife still euphorically sobbed her lover's name he started gushing his hot seducer's semen deep into her pulsating receptive twat. By rights they should both have flopped down for a well-earned rest but my hot little wife was apparently still firing on all cylinders. Extricating herself from under him, she squirmed round and started eagerly licking and sucking his sticky but not yet shrunken penis. Amazingly she very quickly induced a satisfying stiffness to that so recently satisfied member. I was feeling numb with sitting on a hard surface so long, so I stood and stretched my legs then squatted down on the sand even nearer to the sexual activity. Both remained oblivious to my presence. Debbie seemed besotted with his cock, licking and sucking with a look of complete abandon on her face. During oral sex with me she frequently choked on my prick but there was no such trouble now. Although his weapon was both far longer and thicker than mine, she seemed able to swallow the whole damn thing as if she had been born to it. At one point he decided to reciprocate and eased round until his head was between her thighs. From my viewpoint, I could not see if he was actually gobbling her spunk filled cunt or only kissing externally but he made her cum twice. Neither of these were grandstand affairs like before but I could tell from the glow that sufficed her body that he had set her juices flowing. My assumption had been that Debbie had only been getting him ready for another shag but I gradually realised from the way that she was sucking that there was a different objective. I had to admire the way that she worked on him, even appreciating the way she eased off at times to prolong the sucking pleasure. When the moment came there was a look of utter contentment on her face as his sexual fluid pumped down her throat. Even when he had stopped involuntary thrusting motions, her hand continued to milk the remainder. Seeing my wife in such bliss was another moment of real pain for me. Debbie was insatiable for even when it was all over, her pink wet tongue searched her lips, savouring every drop that it found. They sat up until they were side by side but turned to face. Eyes filled with devotion, they gazed at each other, both with one hand tenderly caressing the face of the other. I could watch the sex objectively, (OK - admittedly with more than a little vicarious pleasure), but this was too much. This smacked too much of love and any emotion more than animalistic sex threatened me. Abruptly, I jumped up and strode back to where I had left the picnic basket. Extracting a chicken drumstick I gnawed it half-heartedly and then threw it away deciding that I was in no mood for food. Coffee was a different matter so I poured myself a generous mug full and supplemented it with a cigarette to still my inner turmoil. A Summer Romance As I flicked away the cigarette butt, I saw that the two lovers were now frolicking naked in the sea, splashing, running, laughing and falling. It looked idyllic. If they had been any young couple, I could have smiled condescendingly and felt happy for them but the fact that the female was my wife and he a young Aussi upstart, somehow spoiled my appreciation of the picture. Why was it that I could accept them fucking as something of no real account but watching the pair engaged in innocent pleasures seemed to tear me apart? Bored with playing in the surf, they chased each other back up the beach and disappeared from sight. Almost immediately, very obvious sounds and words told me that they were screwing again. Sadly I stood and went to the far end of the beach, where the path led back up to the cliff top. An hour before I had happily watched his thick glistening shaft plunder Debbie's quivering cunt like a rapidly moving well oiled piston and yet now I was unable to bear even the sounds of passion emanating from my wife's throat. For a very long time I contented myself with skimming suitable pebbles across the approaching waves. When the area around started to become denuded of flat pebbles I started glancing both at my watch and at the other end of the cove hoping for signs of life. They were an inordinately long time and yet now I felt I would be unable to invade their private area even if my life depended upon it. Thirsty and at a loss what to do I returned to the picnic basket. There were no sounds of sex so I poured myself another coffee and enjoyed a cigarette. When that was finished I was going to light another but, concerned at how few were left in the packet decided against. I remained seated with nothing to occupy either my hands or my mind but as long as there was no sexual audio to drive me away I wanted to stay where I was, convinced that Debbie at least, must make a reappearance soon. Still the minutes trailed past. I glanced at my watch and then at the Thermos containing one remaining cup of coffee, actually contemplating taking a very mean revenge but was saved from this spiteful action by my wife finally emerging from between the two great blocks of stone. She was once more wearing the lower portion of her bikini. Debbie came up and calmly lay down in exactly the same position she had been in when Colin first appeared. "I have saved some coffee for you," I told her. She thanked me and then, looking round as if in surprise at the tide and sky, she said, "Hasn't the time gone fast?" The whole thing was surreal. At that moment I could not believe it and felt sure that everything must have happened in my imagination. Muttering that I would only be a moment, I jumped up and ran through to the other part of the beach. I was not intending to confront Colin but I desperately needed to know how he had managed to appear so silently. He was nowhere to be seen and yet there was not a single place in that small section of beach where he could have concealed himself. However there was evidence that he had been there because I could see the perfect indentations formed by my wife's bottom where his weight had forced her down into the soft sand. I returned faced with an even greater puzzle. As I resumed my seat, Debbie asked, "Has he gone?" "So you do know what you have been doing for the past three hours?" "Yes - I've been shagging Colin again," she replied happily. Then she looked at me and said, "I don't know why you disappeared like that when you know I am helpless while he is around." "I did not disappear," I said emphatically. "I was sitting closer than we are now, watching while you were doing it with him." "Really - I didn't see you," she said with genuine surprise. "Then why didn't you say something?" That floored me. I could not give her an answer because I had none to give. After a long pause I said lamely, "You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much, it seemed a shame to spoil it." "I was, I was," she agreed enthusiastically. "It was wonderful - really wonderful." There was no response I could give to that so I let a silence develop between us. Debbie broke it by saying, "You know, I have the weirdest feeling that I have done it before." "You have," I assured her bitterly," - in that fucking cave last week." "No, I don't mean that. I feel that I have done it with him before on this little bit of beach. It was all so familiar. I can almost remember when but it's like a dream when you have just woken up." It seemed that Debbie's appetite was unimpaired for she dived into the picnic basket hungrily. After several minutes during which she concentrated on eating she said with a touch of surprise, "You haven't eaten much." "I wasn't hungry," I said. "I wish you'd mentioned that before we sat out then I would not have brought so much," she said reprovingly. The amazing thing about my wife's attitude was that she seemed completely unconscious of having done anything wrong. In one way I suppose that in this was healthy. It is also understandable if she genuinely believed that I had condoned her uninhibited promiscuity - and some may argue that by taking no action to stop it, that indeed was what I had done. Before leaving the beach I decided to make no further reference to it unless she did. My mind was preoccupied with working out exactly what had happened. I am too logical a person to easily accept that for Debbie this was some kind of time warp experience during which she relived part of a previous life. Cynically I would point out that Colin probable kept an eye on our hotel hoping to get another opportunity alone with her. He could easily have tracked us going to the picnic on his motorbike and knowledge of all the secret places on the island gained during his childhood could explain his appearance and subsequent disappearance from the cove. That said, there are certain elements to the events of the afternoon that are not capable of such easy explanation. Touching my wife as I helped her back up the cliff path I could not help reflecting on all that had happened to her body since I had last laid my hand upon her. Back at the hotel, we spent a very quiet evening. For much of the time there was a pensive, even dreamy expression on my wife's face. When we were in bed, in direct contrast to the earlier seduction, I felt absolutely no desire for her. This was probably as well because Debbie had quickly rolled over signalling a disinclination for sex - she was almost certainly both tired and sore after the way he had exuberantly powered his oversized roll of rigid flesh into her. Once having returned home we never did refer to Colin although several times she seemed on the point of speaking when I felt sure that she had been thinking about him. Our sex life returned to normal, in fact I can honestly say that it was better after the holiday than before - and that is really saying something. All the same, something has gone out of the marriage. Although I am certain that she has remained faithful to me, I suspect that my trust has been irrevocably damaged and I also think that Debbie is now aware of a dimension to life beyond me. During the nine months since we returned from Greece, Debbie thrashing about in the middle of a very sexual dream has waked me on three occasions - the blatant body posture and movement leaving no doubt about the happenings in her mind. Even worse was the time when, having taken her to the height of passion, I had the mortification of hearing her call out his name and not my own. It is getting round to the time for deciding this years holiday destination. I have no wish to ever go anywhere Greece again but on returning from work the other day I found her with an ominous pile of holiday brochures - from three different travel agents, they were all for the Cyclades. I have the fear that if I do not agree to her choice, Debbie will reactivate the suggestion that we take separate holidays.