Thereafter I eavesdropped on their conversation from my hideaway. I couldn’t hear a word of course, but their body language and hand gestures said it all:
An arm waved generally toward the building – ‘Are you staying in this hotel?’
A hand pointing in the vicinity of our room — ‘Yes, up there’
An arm waved in the same direction — ‘How about we go to your room?’
A firmly shaken head and a raised left hand, ring finger waving — ‘Not a chance, I’m married!’
A protracted look around from the taller guy, a shrug of the shoulders and an all ecompassing wave of the arm — ‘I don’t see him anywhere, there must be somewhere else we could go?’
Now it was Jill’s turn to look around, her gaze more intense and directed specifically towards the bar terrace; a wicked smile then settled on her face as she grabbed the tall bloke by the wrist and turned away — ‘This way and quickly!’
Jill was already heading towards the walkway to the beach, with the taller guy following, when his friend threw both arms upward — ‘Hey, what about me?’
Jill paused, scanned the terrace once more, then another wicked smile as she gestured sharply for him to follow — ‘OK, but be quick!’
All three scurried down the boardwalk, with Jill frequently looking back over her shoulder and the two lads blatantly kissing and groping her as they went. When they reached the cover of the palm trees Jill stopped and stared long and hard back in my direction; she and the two men were no more than shadows, an instant later they were gone.
So you ask, why didn’t I intervene? Actually, that’s an easy one: Melanie Brooks. I mentioned earlier that there had been a few bumps and pot-holes in our marriage and the three biggest ones revolved around acts of infidelity; all had my name on them and Melanie was the most recent. That was last summer, but it was only over this last few weeks that Jill had finally stopped mentioning Mel’s name; a clean slate for the New Year perhaps?
Whatever, I knew damned well that had I stepped in and made an issue of Jill and those guys, Melanie Brooks’ name would’ve entered the conversation inside thirty seconds. It was the final night of our holiday, we were thousands of miles away from friends and family, perhaps Jill’s turn to have a little fun?
Even if those guys were British, the odds of their living anywhere near us were long, while the odds that they were looking for anything beyond a quick fuck with a hot-MILF were infinitesimal. I finished my rum punch, assessing that they’d be back in fifteen minutes, whereafter Jill may or may not confess to her fling. Either way, should Melamine Brooks’ name ever be raised again I’d have some ammunition of my own.
Realising that I’d be directly in Jill’s eyeline when she returned from the beach, I moved back down to the pool side, but down the opposite end; discretely positioned but with a clear view of the boardwalk. Waiting there I worked my way through Jill’s rum punch; she wouldn’t be wanting it right now.
I was proved half-right: It was about ten minutes later that the tall guy came striding back up the boardwalkand went immediately to a bunch of guys, but from where I was now standing, I couldn’t even see their conversation. It was a short one though, as less than thirty seconds later, he was heading back toward the beach with five other lads in hot pursuit.
Oh shit! What had Jill got herself into? Or indeed what had I allowed her to get herself into? I set off after them, but by the time I’d regained my faculties and then worked my way through the crowds around the pool I was a good four or five minutes behind. Finding them though wasn’t likely to bea problem:
Not far from the walkway’s end there was a small clearing with a couple of picnic benches amongst the sea-grape trees, Jill had got me or one of the hotel staff to drag a sun-lounger in there for her most afternoons; it allowed Jill to enjoy the sea breeze and view, while affording shelter from the heat of the afternoon sun and had been Jill’s favourite spot all week.
This time my guess was spot-on, though my wife wasn’t on a sun lounger tonight: Jill was on her hands and knees in the soft sand, with her skirt and top both scrunched-up about her waist; there was no sign of her bikini pants, but the top lay discarded on the sand a few feet away.
There was a guy at either end of Jill, both on their knees and each with their cock buried deep inside of my wife. The rest of the men were lounging on the picnic tables and benches shouting advice and encouragement… Oh shit!
The lads had firm grips on Jill’s hips and hair and were takiing her hard, far harder than I’d ever dared, or been allowed; even around the cock in her mouth I could hear Jill’s wails and moans of distress. But what could I do; how could I stop seven guys from gang-raping her?
As I stood in open-mouthed quandry the guy fucking Jill’s pussy straightened-up and released a bestial roar; I could see his arse-cheeks clench and jerk as he unloaded into Jill while the sound of his climax was lost beneath the acclaiming cheers of his friends. If the sight of my wife being savagely spit-roasted had left me stunned, a moment later I was floored:
In the relative silence which followed his climax the man eased away and so allowed Jill to push herself free of the cock invading her mouth. Jill turned to face the lads watching from the benches, her gaze moving over them all before she raised a hand, pointed toward one of them and called out: “Him, I want you next… the black guy.”
The man chosen leapt up with a whoop and was peeling off his shorts as he moved, while the rest released another round of lewd cheers and advice. I watched him drop to his knees and quickly mount Jill; while the lad perhaps didn’t fulfil the urban legends, he was certainly well hung. He still slipped into Jill like a hot-knife into butter.
This wasn’t a rape! My wife was more than consenting to their assault and as if to prove that further, Jill casually caught hold of the cock swinging before her and steered it back between her lips. Beyond the trembling in my legs, I couldn’t move; hell I could barely even breathe!
The black guy was pounding into Jill’s pussy, so hard that I could see her breasts swinging and bouncing against each other with every penetration. That too Jill resolved for herself, grabbing the hands of the guy fucking her mouth she guiding them to her swinging boobs; this lad too groped Jill’s breasts and twisted her nipples with a violence that I’d never known her to countenance.
Listening to Jill’s wails and moans with fresh ears, I now realised they were expressing anything but complaint, Jill was hot to trot and enjoying every second of this gangbang! Confirmation arrived soon after: My wife went rigid for one moment, then unleashed a primeval scream which even the cock in her mouth couldn’t quell completely, before twitching spastically through a massive orgasm; I’d never witnessed Jill coming that hard!
Perhaps in part because of Jill’s body-clenching orgasm, the black lad with his cock buried between her legs climaxed only a few moments later. With Jill screaming, he roaring and the other blokes cheering in approbation, it was perhaps not surprising that the guy in her mouth had called out two or three times before his question registered: “Do you want a turn pal?”
I returned his stare, but was by then beyond speech. “Well do you? She’s hot as hell, offering a turn to everyone; Micky and Carl are next in line, but once they’ve been through her you’re welcome to a ride.”
I remained speechless as I glanced left to see Micky — or perhaps Carl? – drop down behind Jill, but then looked back and silently nodding ‘yes’; the guy nodded back and grinned.
Neither Micky or Carl lasted long, indeed the second of the two didn’t even penetrate Jill; he climaxed as he was dropping to his knees, sending sprays of semen arcing across her back and shoulders. No doubt disappointed himself, but the watching crowd found his loss of control hilarious; I took a couple of deep and steadying breaths, adamant that I wouldn’t do the same.
Jill was still distracted by the cock she was sucking and hadn’t even glanced around when the guy had spoken to me. Jill clearly had no idea that the hands now grasping her hips, or the cock nuzzling at the entrance to her pussy were her husband’s; or by that stage she perhaps didn’t care, mine was just one more cock.
Pressing forward my cock slid into Jill with a sensation that I’d never imagined and certainly not experienced; she was so wet I was almost listening for the sound of a splash! Jill’s snatch was distended and full to overflowing with spent semen and her own juices, a world away from the snug sweet channel I knew and loved; it was like plunging my cock into a bucket of warm yoghurt!
My distaste must’ve shown in my expression as the face of the guy in fornt of me split with a barbaric grin and he called out: “Her cunt a bit slack mate? I’m not surprised, she’s had five cocks unload in there already. If you wanna wait I’ll soon be done at this end, mine’ll only be the second load in her mouth and she swallows those anyway, a greedy little cum-gobbler is this one.”
Those words were one more discombobulation: Jill had often sucked my cock, albeit never with the enthusiasm she was displaying tonight, but she had never and I mean NEVER, allowed me to come in her mouth; that had always been a red-line with Jill.
It was perhaps hearing of this proscription being waived which turned my mind to my wife’s other great sexual taboo; returning the guy’s grin I growled “Either that, or maybe I’ll just fck her in the arse; that still looks tight.”
The atmosphere changed in and instant as the guy snarled “Don’t even fucking think about it! Tony asked earlier and the lady said ‘No’… This isn’t that sort of party, we only take what’s offered.” The watching crowd had fallen silent and felt equally threatening.
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