Misc. Erotica A Hotwife Adventure in the Indian Ocean

[samcuck2]

7: THE FANTASY ISLAND
 I finally did fall asleep, and I woke up when Shweta stirred and pushed herself over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She pushed her hair out of her face. It was slightly damp from the heat and humidity, tangled and mussed by our activities the night before.
My cock came to life straightaway as soon as all of those activities replayed in my mind, a montage of very sexy, very filthy things. The scent radiating from Shweta’s body made me throb even more, as I remembered that she was still dripping with Sahil Gillette's cum, and mine, and her own.
Her voice echoed huskily in my mind: I liked it a little too much.
We made love again, slowly like the pace of the lazy morning. Nothing crazy or wild, though it did take a lot for me to hold back from coming almost as soon as I felt her hot pussy around my cock.
She rolled back onto her stomach afterward, and looked forward at the headboard as though she were reading tea leaves.
“I’m sort of embarrassed to go up there,” she said, suddenly. Then she looked at me, and laughed nervously. “Because of Sahil?” I said, though obviously that was the only answer. Shweta extended her arm and lay her head on it. “Do you think he told Junaid?”: she whispered. I paused a little too long. I felt pretty sure that Junaid knew the score, and if not, Sahil had almost certainly told him. How could he not? I shrugged.
Shweta rolled onto her back. “Oh, my God,” she said. I leaned over and kissed her. “Come on,” I said. “These guys work for Wasim and Neha all the time. I’m sure they know how to be cool about this...” I wasn’t sure what to say. Shweta adopted a very funny snobby British accent: “This sort of… affair,” she said, like she had marbles in her mouth. She waved her hand in a circle above her as she did. We both laughed. She looked over at me. “Seriously,” she said. “Go check it out.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She stretched out to her full glory, and she looked even more beautiful than usual. “I’m going to take a shower.” “Check it out?” I mused. “What do I ‘check out?’” Shweta trotted to the bathroom. “I don’t even know,” she said. “Just… if it’s super weird. Or, I don’t know.
They want me to be the yacht whore all the way home.” “Hmm,” I said. Shweta stopped by the door to the bathroom, her hand on it to keep it from swinging into the room, an annoying thing it did that I suppose was inevitable, even on a luxury yacht. “‘Hmm?’” she repeated. “‘Hmm,’ like… you want me to be the yacht whore?” I felt my mouth move open a little, but no sound came out. “Piyush!” she said. “You’re the one who said you liked it too much,” I protested. Shweta put her hand on her hip. “Are you serious right now?” she said, after a long pause.
I looked at the foot of the bed. “I say,” I said diplomatically, “let’s see what the day brings.” Shweta squinted. “Oh my God,” she said. “I have to pee.” And she shut the door. “Go check things out,” she called from behind the door. I had to pee as well, so I went to the shared bathroom near the rooms Junaid and Sahil were sharing. I was wary of running into either of them, at least down here in the cabin of the ship. It was the kind of over-tense energy you just didn’t want, like dogs on a leash in a small space. It would be fine if I saw them first on deck. Luckily, and as I suspected, they were both up there already, getting the boat rigged for sailing. Or, whatever you do when you have a fully automated boat. Checking things. I popped up, and Sahil was facing me, working with some halyards. “Mr. Sharma,” he said.
“We’re thinking of setting out in about half an hour. There’s a good wind.” His tone was professional, polite. There wasn’t a hint of his having fucked my wife in it. “Sounds good,” I said, hoping my own voice remained unchanged from the day before as I spoke. Junaid gave me a polite wave from the bow of the ship. Nothing seemed weird there either. Sahil came toward me and leaned on a railing. “So we have a couple of options,” he said. “There’s a good wind, like I told you – we can get all the way to Paradise Island today, I believe.” I nodded. “But... there is a very small island about 10 miles from here. A little tiny but out of the way, but it’s very beautiful.
A nice resort... Not too many people know about it. Why don’t you ask your wife if she has any interest in it? We can make Paradise the next day, Male on schedule. Good weather for the whole week.” He was smiling at me, like he was asking me if I wanted fish or chicken for dinner, but the implication was clear about that island. And what kind of “resort” was there. “I’ll see what she wants to do,” I agreed.
Sahil hit the banister lightly with two thumps, gave me a thumbs-up, and headed back to attend to rigging the boat. I headed back to the cabin and started some coffee for Shweta, who had consumed quite a bit more than she usually did. Then I went back to the master suite. Shweta was still in the shower, and I invited myself in to admire the view. I was feeling pretty good about Sahil and Junaid being fairly casual about what had happened the night before, and my mind was already on to the island and the possibilities that awaited us there.
I only hoped that Shweta would take it the same way. Her body shone with water and ribbons of sweetscented floral soap slid over her curves as she rinsed shampoo from her hair. Her eyes were closed but she smiled in my direction. “I hope that’s my husband,” she said, in a mysterious tone. My heart skipped. What if it wasn’t me? I waited, and Shweta kept smiling.
Keeping her eyes closed she took a loofah and soaped herself up, rubbing the sponge sensually over her body. “If it’s not him,” she teased, “it would be very inappropriate.” And then Shweta, who was not known to me for her exhibitionism, cupped her breasts and played with her nipples. I stared as she slid her hands over her hips and briefly tucked a finger into her slit.
She turned in the shower and bent over, as though to pick something up, giving me a nice view of her ass and her bare pussy peeking between her cheeks. I almost couldn’t believe this was my own wife. When she stood up, pushing water out of her hair, she was still smiling cleverly. I wondered how much of it was purely imaginary to her. If there wasn’t some part of her that didn’t want the man in the room to be someone other than her husband. She opened her eyes, and smiled at me. “So?” she said. I cleared my throat.
I was feeling a little bit frisky after that show had mixed with my imagination, but I was also exhausted. “I… um… Sahil… has two options for us.” Shweta turned and rinsed her hair again. “Hmm,” she said, sensually. “One is that we sail straight to Paradise. There’s a good wind.” “Mm-hmm.” “And the other… there is an island, apparently, a little out of the way. He said you might like it.” Shweta turned back to face me. “That almost sounds like Fantasy Island or something.
Sort of… what was that show about?” I smiled. Shweta was too young to know that show as anything but a cultural reference. “Be careful what you wish for,” I said, uncertainly. I had been a kid when I watched it. Shweta grinned. “I thought so.” She turned off the water. “Can you hand me that towel?” she said, pointing to a fluffy, unused white towel she had somehow found. I gave it to her as she opened the door.
She wrapped herself in it and took a hand towel to dry her hair. God, she was beautiful. She looked at the floor as she thought. “And why does Sahil think I’ll like this island?” she said, finally. She met my eyes. “I think you know,” I said. “And what about you? Did he think you would like this island?” I thought about my answer for a moment. “I think Sahil is more concerned about whether or not you’ll like the island.” Shweta’s cheeks took on a glow. It wasn’t really a blush, as much as a fire beneath her skin. “And what about you? Do you think you’ll like this island?” I nodded.
Shweta looked down at her body as she adjusted her towel. “I don’t know. Should we be doing this?” She looked back up at me. She seemed to really want the answer, which was kind of a turn-on in and of itself. It had been a long time since Shweta seemed to want my advice about anything, anything at all. I sat down on the edge of the tub and pulled her to me. I stroked the back of her knee, which made her giggle. Then I slowed the pace, and her face became serious when I looked up at her. “Listen,” I said. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.
That’s the most important thing. But… if you’re asking me if I want to try this, then… the answer is yes.” I bit the towel and tugged at it like a puppy. Shweta clutched the towel to her breasts and lifted her knee to ward me off. “Stop it,” she said. “This is serious.” “Okay,” I said. She sat down next to me. “I just… don’t you think we should have, like… I mean, don’t Wasim and Neha have rules, or something?” She set her elbows on her knees, a semichildish gesture that was as endearing as it was incongruous. “What do you want the rules to be?” I said. I’d make any rules she wanted. She lifted her knees up by pointing her feet forward onto her toes. They bobbed around playfully. “I guess… well, is this island a, you know… like that first one we went to? With a lot of people?” “I don’t know. I’m guessing so.” “Well,” she said. “I’m not so much into… um… that.” Interesting. “How do you mean?” I asked.
Shweta smiled sheepishly. “I don’t want you getting in on any other women. Really. And I’m not...” she looked up at the ceiling and sighed loudly. “Oh, how to say this? I’m not so much into doing it with just anyone.” My heart slammed around in my chest with excitement. “Check and check,” I said. “Not a problem.” She was quiet. “So, just for the record, you’re not into just anyone because…?” She looked at me sharply. Then she looked back at her feet. “Oh, don’t make me say it,” she said, that sheepish voice creeping into her throat again. I stroked her arm with my hand.
“What’s that?” I asked. It was a bit devilish of me, since I already knew what she was going to say. “You know,” she said. “I just like… him.” There’s no point in trying to hide from this narrative that I would have loved to press my wife into saying that she loved big circumcised cock, but I decided not to push my luck. I slapped my hands on my knees. “Okay. So no ladies for me, and no…” “Just no… I don’t know. Crazy swinging. I’m not into it.” Shweta sounded firm on this issue. Which was fine with me. I wasn’t really into it, either. I was perfectly happy with what I’d managed to get her to do, and I wasn’t going to get greedy.
“What about Junaid?” I asked. “He’s kind of… you know.” Okay, so maybe a little greedy. Shweta slapped me on the knee. “Oh my God!” she said. “This is… this is crazy enough.” I held my hands out, palms open, Okay. “And this is the other thing,” Shweta said, holding a finger up. “I get to decide what I want to do.” Of course, I nodded. Of course, because at the time I chose to interpret that as: she would decide whether to do something or not. I didn’t think Shweta – who at the time seemed a little prude when I compared her to my dirty thoughts – might want to do something beyond what I might have approved of.
If I had asked. “Agreed,” I said. “It’s your show.” She kissed me. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.” She cocked her head. “So, how did he seem? Was it weird?” It took me a moment to understand what she was referring to. “Oh,” I said. “Sahil. No. Actually… no, he was perfectly normal. I think… yeah, he’s just used to this, like I said.” Shweta tapped her teeth. “Huh,” she said. “Okay.” And then she kissed me again and walked into the room. She was wearing a white bikni and a white cover-up when she came out for coffee.



Bare feet, sweet-smelling, hair still wet and clipped up in a twist. She put her feet on my lap and I massaged the soles gently, getting a little turned on as I did, and we read an old paper. Sahil popped down to tell us we were taking off, and soon the boat began to keel. “I think I’m going to get some sleep while we sail,” Shweta commented. “I… didn’t get enough last night.” She smiled at me and trotted off to our room. I joined Sahil and Junaid on the deck. Sahil was busy sailing, and he mostly ignored me, except to ask me if I could check on a halyard that seemed loose on the sheet.
I settled in on the deck and enjoyed the breeze, even though I’d rather have been sailing the boat. Under normal circumstances, that is. I was actually just fine, preoccupied with my thoughts about Sahil and my wife as the hours ticked by until we arrived at this mysterious island. “So,” Sahil called back to us. “What do you think?” Most islands in the Maldives look about the same. There’s no shortage of crystal clear waters and azure horizons, white beaches fading into lush green jungle, and pretty women scattered on them in scant bikinis. But this particular bay was incredible: just meters from where the boat was anchored, which presumably had to be twenty feet deep to accommodate the keel, a plateau of white sand that extended for what seemed like half a mile to the beach yawned wide in either direction.
A few people were sitting in the water, some fields away from the shoreline, reclining on their elbows. A few others were walking, almost as if they could walk on water, closer to the beach. “It’s so shallow here,” Sahil proclaimed, “it’s like a hot tub. But don’t worry, there’s a lagoon you can go to to cool off.” He was smiling broadly. The beach itself was dotted with umbrellas and colorful towels, so there were some signs of life. “It’s magical,” Shweta breathed. “Is it… is there anything here?” Sahil smiled. “There’s a nice resort on the other side, but I like this beach.” Shweta clasped her hands together. “Ooh” she squealed. “I’m finally going to get to float on my mattress!!” She had really been waiting for this. She had brought an inflatable mattress with her and she had envisioned herself floating on it in waters exactly like this, but it hadn’t worked out for most of the trip.
Shweta retrieved her mattress, and Sahil gallantly blew it up for her when it became apparent that we had no idea where the air pump was, and Shweta’s countenance began to wilt the longer it took. Shweta stood by him as he huffed into the mattress, and for a moment I was outside of the scene completely, watching my wife as her life might have been with another man, or having an affair. It was exhilarating. He got Shweta into the water, and then sat down to blow up his own mattress. “Is this island the kind of island I think it is?” I said. He smiled as he continued blowing. When he took a breather he looked out at the beach. “It’s probably better.” He started puffing again. On his next pause he smiled at me. “It can be kind of wild at night. Maybe we’ll see how the day goes?” He dropped his mattress onto the swim platform and nimbly settled on it. Then he looked at me. “No swimming for you?” “Not yet,” I said dryly. At some point in all of this air mattress hubub, Junaid had appeared and given me a nod in greeting. Sahil and him exchanged a few words, and Junaid dropped the raft into the water.
He headed off to the port side of the boat, away from the beach. “He likes to fish,” Sahil said, by way of explanation. Sahil pushed off, his muscles rippling as he did, and I settled in to my deck chair to unabashedly watch the scene unfold. He used his thick arms to paddle himself slowly in the direction of my wife, the alabaster goddess, who was moving slow circles on her light blue “floaty.” I remembered, at that moment, that there were a great pair of binoculars in the control room. I practically ran to the control deck, not wanting to miss a minute of Sahil and my wife, and then scrambled back to the chair I had set out. Sahil was just floating up to her when I got back. With the binoculars, I could see them like they were right in front of the boat.
I focused on Shweta’s face. As Sahil approached, she smiled, and turned her head in his direction. Sahil reached out and caught her floaty to bring it close to his. He maneuvered his way so that he was floating side by side with her, his head at her feet, hers at his. And then he wasted no time, and neither did my wife. His black hands were on her feet almost immediately. He was telling her something, his big lips moving, smiling, as he no doubt said something seductive and rubbed her feet. He began at the soles of her feet, like an ordinary foot rub. I watched as his hands moved over them.
No doubt her feet were dry and smooth by then, warm to the touch. He pushed hard circles into the bottom of her foot, and the mattresses slowly turned so that I couldn’t see Shweta’s face, just Sahil’s. And then his hands moved up to her ankle. The skin made an easy-to-see silhouette against Shweta’s skin as his hands traveled from her ankle to her calf, massaging. The mattress moved alongside his, as he pulled her by the legs so that her upper body was getting closer to his. I sucked in my breath. He was really going in hard and fast. The mattresses floated slowly around, and Shweta’s face came into view. She had a strange smile on her face as Sahil moved his hand up to her knee. Then she suddenly smiled broadly, and then laughed. She jerked her leg.
He must have tickled her, right under the knee, sending goosebumps along the back of her leg. This was Shweta’s most erogenous zone, and if he kissed her there she’d purr like a cat and her pussy would well up instantly. Shweta was no longer kicking, no longer laughing. She stretched her legs out and Sahil moved his hand beneath them.
Her face had changed into a serious, steamy expression. The mattresses slowly turned. Now Shweta’s legs were facing me, and I could only see the back of the pillow on Sahil’s mattress supporting his head. But his hands, sliding up, up to Shweta’s pale blue bikini bottoms – that I could see. I watched as he paused on her upper thigh, strumming his fingers over her flesh. What could they be saying to each other? I wondered. Was he charming her with some kind of ordinary tale, stroking her thighs as though she were a girlfriend and they shared some kind of casual intimacy? Or was it something more overt, more sexual? And how did Shweta feel about it?
Did she like him telling her, explicitly, what his sexual plans were for her? Did she enjoy it if she had a new man to listen to, new stories to hear, while new fingers – dark, strong fingers – strummed over her thighs? The mattresses had stopped turning, the momentum they had been given dying out in the still water. Luckily for me, I had a view of Shweta’s outstretched body, and her face. A sliver of Sahil’s face, enough to see his mouth and the smile on it as he spoke to my wife. And most fortunate of all, a clear view to his fingers, which were inching up her legs. He was sweeping them over her skin now, ever closer to her bikini bottoms. Shweta’s face was serious, her lips slightly parted. Then she smiled; apparently he had said something very funny. His hand moved up, turned over to brush her thigh with the back of it. He edged the mattress alongside hers, making it begin to spin again, very slowly. His fingers were on the strings of her bikini, playing with them. Shweta appeared to be looking at the boat at that moment.
It was hard to tell with her sunglasses. From where she was, I knew she could see me, though she would be slightly uncertain as to what I was doing. The dark fingers tugged at the strings that held her bikini to her hip. The long bow slipped slowly through its coiled self and then unraveled, and the powder blue fabric hung loosely over her pelvis, a little crumpled, a little corrupted. Shweta was motionless now, both her body and the look on her face. Slowly, Sahil peeled back the bikini bottom, letting it open like a flap. I couldn’t see the details of my wife’s bare cunt that he could, but I knew he was there, enjoying the view, enjoying the knowledge that he had fucked her the night before and he would get to sheathe his cock in her sweet, hot cunt again.
They floated there, with her bikini open to him, and him saying god knows what, for what seemed like an eternity but was probably just a brief moment of time. Then Shweta shook her head and laughed, and took the bikini bottom and tied it back together again. I watched my wife lean forward and say something with her mouth in its most seductive pout, before she rolled off and into the water. Sahil paddled lazily after her, taking her mattress with him. Shweta returned to the mattress after a few long strokes away and then a tidy flip to come back. She propped herself up on the mattress and slicked her hair back. And there they remained for quite a bit of time, Shweta and Sahil chatting with each other flirtatiously. Shweta, I realized after a while, was teasing him, drawing it out, teasing me as well. The sensations coursing through my body were extraordinary, but along with the pleasure of seeing of her with Sahil, throwing herself into her teasing, I felt sharp, icecold needles of jealousy in my gut. As my wife smiled and leaned on her air mattress, I had fleeting moments of imagining what it would be like to reflect back on this moment, sometime in the future when Shweta had left me for Sahil, thinking about what an idiot I was for taking this kind of chance.
Still, I sat there watching them, sinking into the pain and the exhilaration. When they finally paddled back, pausing along the way for Sahil to clasp Shweta’s hand in both of his and make her laugh - I crept away and up to the deck. As deeply as it was paining me, I had a craving to keep playing the voyeur. To watch my wife as though I wasn’t here, and there was nothing I could do to stop her from what was inevitably going to happen. They were laughing as they boarded the boat. The playful, teasing giggling of two people who have just met and still enjoy every single thing about each other. A knife of nostalgia cut through me: we were like that, once. I was sitting on the couch, looking aft toward the cockpit. I had thought about hiding myself better, really getting into the voyeurism, but then I decided it was silly. Also I wanted to look like I had control over things, even if there was part of me that realized that was no longer entirely true. They stood in the cockpit for bit, and Shweta lifted her hair so that Sahil could do something – and it seemed very contrived – to her bikini strings.
Maybe they needed tightening, maybe she had asked him to check some absurd thing that required no checking. Shweta held her hair up, and Sahil did whatever she had asked him to do, and I waited, entranced, for the inevitable. It seemed like minutes passed before Sahil leaned in to her neck, and nit into the strings of her suit with his teeth. Then he pulled, slowly, and the bikini began to come undone. Shweta lifted her eyes to meet mine: she had known exactly where I was, exactly how I would be seated there watching her. The look she gave me burned right through my core. I hadn’t seen Shweta with an expression like this – mischievous, in control, sexually aroused, all at once – in all my life. I felt another free-fall of my guts. A hundred doubts percolated through my head at once: what if my wife changed and would never be the same? What if she lost control? What if this ended our marriage? What if it was all a stupid mistake, a risk too great? What if Shweta was actually the architect of all of this and I was being cuckolded? But the bubbles of anxiety burst as quickly as they arose, because beneath all of this was the much stronger arousal, the need, to see her take things all the way. The string reached the end of the knot, and the bikini peeled away, letting Shweta’s pretty breasts – two light triangles in the center of her tanned skin – be freed up. Sahil wasted no time getting his large hands over them, kneading them and rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. While he did this he sucked on her neck, on her earlobe, kissed her shoulder, made his way down one side of her neck and then back and around again.