Misc. Erotica A Hotwife Adventure in the Indian Ocean

[samcuck2]

Hi Everyone
I want to share a new story with u guys, I read this story many years ago. It is a western story but I will be adding some desi elements to this story to make it interesting. The characters of this story are from different religion so if anyone who gets offended by it should leave this thread right now.

Characters in the story:
Piyush Sharma: Age-32 , He is an entrepreneur. A very well settled man with turnover in millions.
Shweta Sharma: Age 30, She is wife of Piyush. She has got a very well maintained and curvy body. 
They have a 3 year old boy.
Wasim Pathan: Age 49, He is a business partner of Piyush but he is wealthier than Piyush.
Neha Mehta: Age-22, Trophy wife of Wasim Pathan. She is a model.
All other different characters will come in the story later on.

The story is about these two couples who went to a holiday on a Yacht in Maldives and other small Islands near it. The Yacht was owned by Wasim Pathan.

As I am novice at writing , so please if I write something wrong, so I am saying sorry in advance.

[samcuck2]

This is Shweta

[samcuck2]

Neha Mehta

[samcuck2]

Chapter 1 Part A: LOTS OF SWINGS
“What do you think they’re doing up there?” my wife whispered.
Shweta propped herself up on her hands. She was looking up at the ceiling, as though she could see through the deck and get a view of Wasim and Neha, and whatever it was they were doing up there.
    Her tone was playful, which I was relieved to hear. She propped her head on her hand and looked at me, and I was also relieved to see a little smile creeping into her mouth. Shweta was recovering from her initial reaction to the discovery we had made last night about Wasim and Neha. The fit, graying Wasim and his much younger, trophy-wife Neha, were unabashedly into “the lifestyle.”
Well...
To clarify, the “discovery” was mostly Shweta’s. I was not actually unaware that Wasim and Neha were swingers.
Truth be told – and I wasn’t about to tell the truth to anyone - Wasim and Neha’s status as swingers may have even been a deciding factor in my decision to join them for a lengthy cruise on their sailboat in the Maldives. It had been a toss-up between going with them, or with another couple in my sailing club.
I’d be lying if I said that Wasim and Neha’s sexual energy didn’t appeal to me more than Pankaj and Shikha’s... well, lack of it.
The official story – for both my wife and Wasim and Neha – was that we were there strictly to try out the sailing life.
Sailing only.
I wanted to get my own boat, and I dreamed of spending weeks in the water, cruising around from island to island. And I really had in mind sailing, not what Wasim and Neha were up to (however much their “lifestyle” admittedly piqued my interest).
I had always loved sailing. I had a small boat of my own before I married Shweta, for racing in the lake. Shweta never cared for it, especially the racing part, and the boat was a J/ 22. Not exactly woman-friendly, and the one time I took her out the weather soured and she ended up vomiting over the side until we reached shore.
For a few seasons, the boat had sat largely unused in a very expensive marina. I moved it north, where it languished some more. I sold it when our son was a year old, and it became obvious to me that I wouldn’t be sailing any time soon. Now, the kid was a little older and could stay with Shweta’s parents for weeks at a time, though. I had joined a sailing club just to have access to a boat and get back in the swing of things.
I really hoped I could convince Shweta to join me in some more peaceful sailing. If I got a big enough boat and sailed in the ocean, those factors would be challenging enough to replace my racing desires. (Or so I hoped.)
And the “big boat” part, I could tell, appealed to Shweta. Shweta had reluctantly agreed to come on this cruise after I had shown her pictures of Wasim’s boat, a luxury 50m super-yacht. It was really a marvel, from Shweta’s perspective and from mine. For Shweta: the master suite had a marble bathtub and shower, and the cabin was spacious enough to stand upright comfortably after ducking through the hatchway, even if you were tall, like me. Wasim had spared no expense on furnishings and fixtures: new red oak hardwood floors gleamed everywhere, leather couches and tasteful modernist decor followed a fashionable mineral gray theme, splashed with red, throughout the boat. There was a large deck for sunbathing, and it included an area large enough to have couches and tables (in the same ultra-fashionable theme) and an optional pull-out canopy.
From my perspective, it was a huge boat with two masts, and incredible fully-automated system that allowed for manual override.
Wasim, who had shelled out a lot of extra dough to be able to sail his own boat, did not believe in automation. He liked to have at least one extra pair of hands on board to help out, which is where I came in.
(Neha, apparently, knew how to sail but would only do it under duress.)
 Shweta had envisioned a lot of relaxing sunbathing, reading on the deck, floating in clear Maldives waters on an enormous flotation device, and sipping martinis on the gray couch on the deck under the stars. I had really waxed poetic about all those things.
 She had also liked that the huge yacht would not (could not) be involved in any racing. After I had shown her pictures of the inside to assure her that it had not been stripped down for such a purpose, she had agreed to take this cruise.
I just wanted a boat. I wanted her to have a really good time on a yacht and hopefully agree to let me get one (I would break the news to her later that our boat would not be nearly this fancy).
Back to the issue of Wasim and Neha: in order for Shweta to have to have a good time, I had to get her on the yacht, and in order to do that, I figured it might not have been the best idea to tell her about their lifestyle.
It wasn’t that Shweta was a prude. I just didn’t need to take any chances.
Wasim and Neha, for their part, had assured me that our inclusion on the boat didn’t in any way implicate us in their lifestyle. They had assured me that the Maldives was full of couples who did want to play, and they had also assured me that they were not extremely overt about their practices.
But the topic had come up at dinner, because they had run into some “friends.”
It had started off innocently enough. Even I had thought the “friends” were just “friends” when they first arrived. I suppose that even though Wasim and Neha had chatted lightly about their lifestyle, I hadn’t really imagined it as a real thing they did.
The friends were a couple closer to Wasim’s age, Shaun and Riley Marino. Riley might have been in her mid-forties, but the only way you might have guessed it is because she told you. She had long, sun-bleached brown hair that flowed to the middle of her back. She was tanned, with slender, sexy legs she seemed to have stolen from a twenty-year old. Her husband was a fit man in his late forties, a little gray, suntanned and athletic.
 Dinner went along like any other dinner, with everyone having wine and chit-chatting, talking about what they did and whether they liked it. All normal.
But at the end of dinner, Wasim headed back to the navigation area to check on something. We were sitting at the table on the deck under the canopy, and Neha offered to get us more drinks.
She returned from the cabin and handed us the drinks, went back for the rest of them, and then, as casually as ever, came back and sat down on Shaun’s lap.
The way she did it was so natural that for a moment neither Shweta nor I noticed. Riley was talking, and she didn’t miss a beat. Neha’s thighs were bare and she kicked her feet playfully.
I remember thinking it was just an innocent game they played, Neha and Shaun. Shweta must have thought that as well, because she didn’t seem very ruffled by it.
And then she leaned in and kissed Shaun.
But not a peck on the cheek.
They kissed like dirty porn stars. Their tongues were out of their mouths, darting in quick circles for all of us to see.
Riley looked right at them and smiled, then kept talking.
Shweta almost dropped her wine glass. Her jaw literally fell open until she was gaping like a cartoon.
She looked over at me.
I held up my pointer fingers, which was ersatz sign-language for “I can explain,” and hoped she would catch my drift.
I wasn’t exactly sure how long this would go on. A quick check back at the navigation area revealed that Wasim had his eyes on the deck, and not the controls.
 While it wasn’t the first time I had imagined what it would feel like to watch my own wife with another man, this was the first time I had such a visceral reaction to imagining it. Looking at Wasim watching his wife sent a thrill through me, as I pictured myself in his position, and Shweta on Shaun’s lap. Shweta’s mouth getting probed by his tongue, Shweta’s thighs being felt up right there on Shaun’s lap, her ass resting on the hard, solid length of his cock.
My own dick got hard almost instantly.
I had no idea what to do, so I leaned forward to get my martini, and I focused on it as though it were the most important thing in the world. But my mind was on those two, on Wasim and how he must be feeling, on my own fantasy about Shweta.
Shweta, for her part, froze completely.
I don’t know how things might have ended, if Neha hadn’t broken off to push her hair out of her face and look over at Riley. She turned slightly on Shaun’s lap, and her butt must have rolled like a hot wave over his cock.
As she turned, she saw Shweta and her aghast expression.
Riley followed her eyes, because Neha actually looked a little apologetic. “Oh, sorry. Shweta, excuse us, I forgot you guys aren’t...”
Shaun brought his fingers up to Neha’s dress, a skimpy little black thing that dipped low across her breasts. He peeked in at her ample bosom.
Then, it was as if Neha’s statement made its way through his mind. “Oh,” he said. He turned to look at my wife.
His eyes moved over Shweta’s body, and as they did a rolling wave of heat moved from my toes to my head. My cock throbbed.
“Too bad,” he said. Riley bit her lip. “You sure?” she said to me, with a smile.
I nodded and set my hand on Shweta’s to reassure her. I took a sip of my martini. “We’re sure,” I said cheerfully.
Neha stood up. She slapped Shaun on the thigh. “Let’s go downstairs,” she said. “Leave these two to watch the stars.”
Shaun shrugged, his hands moving up Neha’s skirt, far enough to have his fingers on her mound. Riley stood up, and the three of them giggled their way back to the hatchway. Snippets of their conversation reached us: “Really?” “Such a shame.”
And then their voices faded as they went deeper into the boat.
Shweta turned to me. “What the?” she mouthed.
I shook my head, as though I was as much in disbelief as she was. I set my drink down.
She pulled her feet up under her, and set her cheek against her hand. “So Wasim... he like, knows about this?”
I moved my head in the direction of the control room, which was empty. “Looks like.”
“Are they... swingers?” she said. But she didn’t wait for me to answer. “Oh my God, they are. They’re real, actual swingers.”
She opened her mouth wide and looked at me in disbelief.
I did my best to turn the expression on my face into disbelief.
Shweta sipped her drink. We sat in silence for a moment. It was a beautiful night, warm and lightly breezy. The marina was alive with light laughter, people having drinks and dinner on their boats.
“Well, I don’t want to go down there now,” Shweta said.
I was relieved, at the time, that she didn’t seem overly scandalized, like it wasn’t something she couldn’t live with. She held up her glass. “But I want another drink,” she complained.
Then she looked at me, and we exchanged a look before we started laughing.
“What should we do?” she asked.
I shrugged. “There’s a bar over there,” I suggested. It was part of the marina, and it seemed to be pretty hopping.
Shweta looked over her shoulder. She had already had quite a bit, and it was unusual for her to drink so much. “Yeah,” she said, happily. She set down her glass. “Because I definitely don’t want to run into those guys, you know... down there.” She grinned.
“Well,” I said, slapping my thighs. “Let’s go. If my lady wants a drink, then a drink she shall have.”
 The drink turned into about four, and Shweta got pretty drunk.
She kept returning to the scene on the boat, though. She really wanted to talk about it, even though she wanted to act like she was scandalized about it.
“So, do you think that... is this like a thing they do, when they come down here?” she said, leaning across the table conspiratorially after her second gin and tonic. Her speech was slightly slurred, and she had a gleam of excitement in her eyes.
She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because those guys... Kylie and Braun, oh sorry Riley and Shaun,” she paused to laugh at herself before she got serious again. “They knew them, like, they do this all the time!”
She finished her sentence by waving her hands in the air excitedly. Then she shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “I mean, can you imagine?”
I played with the corner of my napkin. I could imagine, and in fact I did imagine, something similar.
I wasn’t so much interested in the swinging side of things – though don’t get me wrong, women like Neha and Riley were beautiful, and their bodies, so different, so unique, provided their own set of attraction for me.
But I was less into thinking about that than I was into thinking about my own wife. About her body, and her curves – being explored and plundered by another man.
“You’re not into it, are you?” Shweta said.
She had a teasing tone to her voice, and she was smiling when I looked up at her.
“Of course not,” I said, and I hoped it sounded convincing.
Shweta brought her fingers to her lips and strummed them over her plump lower petal. “I wonder if all of these people are swingers,” she said, her eyes moving around the restaurant.
It was on my lips to ask her if she wasn’t into it, and I wanted to say it desperately.
But I wanted that boat. I really did. So even though I’d had a lot to drink, and my wife was looking a little stimulated by the idea of swingers, and the night was pretty and warm and a lot of enticing people in swimsuits surrounded us, I kept that last question to myself.
For then.
  We ended up drinking too much and stumbling back to the yacht. It was a lot of fun, walking around drunk with Shweta. We almost boarded the wrong boat, which was pretty funny because the one we nearly got on was half the size of Wasim’s boat.
Wasim and Neha were on the deck when we got in. Neha looked over the railing and smiled at us. She reached out a hand to help Shweta up the gangplank.
“Looks like you two discovered the drink specials at Bar,” Wasim commented.
Shweta looked around. There was no sign of Riley and Shaun.
I ran my eyes quickly over Neha, wondering if they had actually gone to do what I thought they had with Riley and Shaun. I wondered how it worked: did they all have sex together, or separately as couples? Did Neha play with Riley? (My mind created a filthy picture, of the two of them being fucked by the wrong husband from behind while they kissed and rubbed their breasts together)
And what did Wasim do afterward? Did he like to reclaim his wife, taste another man’s cum on her lips, or maybe in her cunt?
I knew that’s one place I would never go, personally, but there was something twistedly delectable about thinking about it, imagining Shweta’s pussy filled up and dripping seed from another man…
I had to stop. I was getting worked up again.
“You two better be careful,” Wasim said. “The number-one cause of death in the Maldives is drowning in a marina.”
Neha put her hand on my arm as she passed me, carrying a drink she had produced out of seemingly nowhere. “He’s just talking out his ass,” she said.
“Could be true,” Wasim mused. “It’s very dangerous being this drunk on a boat.”
Shweta’s eyes grew wide and she looked at Wasim seriously.
Wasim cracked a smile. “I’m just teasing you, Shweta, dear. Get as intoxicated as you like. Just be careful your inhibitions don’t get lost completely.”
As he turned to me Wasim raised his eyebrows. “Someone might take advantage of that,” he said under his breath, so that only I could hear. “Get you a drink?” he said more loudly. “Not that you need one.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m wasted,” Shweta giggled.
I looked over at her. She really did seem to be losing her inhibitions. Either that, or she’d completely forgotten about Riley and Shaun. She reclined on the couch and put her feet up.
Because she was wearing a short skirt over her swimsuit, there was a direct line from where I was standing up her skirt. Her bikini had somehow folded a little, oddly at an angle, and the smooth, bare curve of one of her outer lips was showing.
Wasim handed me a glass, and I brought it to my mouth without taking my eyes off my wife’s pussy.
Then I realized that Wasim, too, had paused right where I was standing, and that his eyes were trained right between Shweta’s legs.
Shweta seemed to not be conscious of what she was doing – she was recounting a story to Neha – but then again, I couldn’t be sure. Surely she knew her bikini, at the very least, was being shown to all? She played with her hair, lying on the pillow wantonly, and moved her legs without ever blocking our view.
Heat was building inside of me as I stood next to Wasim, knowing that he was watching my wife’s pussy beneath her loose bikini, and enjoying the view.
But I especially enjoyed savoring the idea that Shweta was perhaps doing some of it intentionally. The more I watched her moving her legs about playfully, hiding her pussy and then revealing it, the more I thought she knew what she was doing.
And the more Wasim enjoyed it as well.
This went on for a bit, and then the girls’ conversation deflated with a  sigh from Shweta, the end of some girlish laughter about whatever they were discussing.
Shweta looked over at us, but she didn’t change the position of her legs when she saw we were both staring. Neha also turned to look at us. She brought her drink to her lips and took a seductive sip, running her tongue along her upper lip to get a stray drop with her tongue.
“What are you two doing over there?” she asked, in her husky voice. She was smiling.
Wasim gave her a grin. “Indeed.” He hopped up and over to his wife.
Shweta stared openly at the two of them as Wasim slid his hand along his wife’s thigh and under her swimsuit cover up right to her pussy, where he stroked her openly as he leaned in to give her a kiss.
This was a little too much for Shweta. She watched, transfixed, for about a second, and then she sat up abruptly, as though being shaken out of a dream, and looked at me with a kind of desperate expression on her face.
Wasim and Neha were kissing quite passionately, and Shweta and I looked at each other, wondering if they were just going to fuck right there on the deck. Shweta pulled her feet over the side of the couch and leaned forward to set her drink down. She was getting ready, I could see, to clear her throat and tell everyone she was going to bed.
Before she could, however, Wasim and Neha separated their mouths with a loud, sloppy smack and Wasim collapsed between Shweta and Neha. He had his hand on Neha’s knee, and I felt my insides turning over in circles of desire, hoping he would set his other hand on my wife’s knee.
I felt it so viscerally as I imagined it, it almost seemed like it happened: he placed his large, sailor’s hand on Shweta’s knee, moving his thumb over the inside of it, up to her inner thigh. Just a little flicker, just a tiny bit over the line.
What would Shweta do, if he did that? Would she let the shiver it gave her travel up and down her thigh, enjoying the thrill, before she made a big show of moving away? Would she jump up and say she had to go to bed? Or would she maybe go rigid with excitement and fear of impropriety, and wait and see what happened?
Wasim reached forward and took the drink he had set down on the table instead.
But he did extend his arm over the back of the couch, encircling my wife without touching her. He looked at me. “Whadya doin’ over there, Piyush? The ladies are all here.”
Neha’s eyes glimmered mischievously as she smiled at me.
Shweta clasped her hands together. She wasn’t leaning back on the couch, so Wasim’s hand wasn’t touching her – yet. She looked at me, almost as if she wanted help.
I would have loved it if she had reclined, and Wasim had run his fingers over her shoulder, but I wanted Shweta to be comfortable (and I’ll just be honest – getting my own boat was still somewhere at the forefront of my mind at this point, so I didn’t need Shweta having even a remotely bad time).
I yawned, loudly and theatrically. “Guys,” I said. “I think I need to pack it in. Aren’t we taking off tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Shweta said quickly. She wasted no time standing up and gathering her glass from the table. “I shouldn’t have even… I’m pretty drunk...”
She lost her balance a little, and Wasim reached out to take her hand. He held it firmly and smiled up at her. “Careful, there,” he said in a low voice.
I felt like they looked at each other there for a moment, and a semi-illicit thing passed between them, a flicker of heat. But then Shweta gave him a nervous laugh, and stepped away. “Thanks,” she said.
She practically ran over to me.
Neha curled up, leaning in to Wasim. “’ Night,” she warbled, her voice husky and sexy. She winked at me.
I followed Shweta below deck.
  When I closed the door to our cabin, Shweta turned to face me. “Holy crap,” she said, and her eyes were wide. “Those two are...” Her eyes widened and she shook her head.
“I think Wasim has a thing for you,” I said, putting my hands on her waist. I pulled on her gently and she let me bring her close to my body. I admired the nice view I had of her breasts snuggled in her bikini below my chin.
“He’s… first of all, I’m  too old for his tastes,” Shweta said. “And he’s… not my type.”
I stepped back and gave my wife an expression of disbelief.
“Huh,” I said. “So it’s not so much that he’s not your husband, as that he’s not your type.”
Shweta’s face did some really remarkable things. “I… no...” she held her hand to her head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” she said quickly.
“Hmm,” I said. I was actually pretty trashed so my inhibitions were at an unusually low point. I slid my hand into her little skirt. “So you wouldn’t even think about another man, not even in a situation like this one?”
Shweta was caught off-guard by this. She was also drunk, and it was slowing her reactions.
And, I discovered as I slid my fingers into her bikini bottoms, she was also a little bit wet. The smooth, freshly waxed surface of her pussy (a nice treat for me, courtesy of her plans to wear a bathing suit all the time) was slick with her juices.
I raised my eyebrows.
“I… of course not,” she said. She moved in my arms, squirming a little. “That’s… not what I...”
I was stroking her clit now, and she was losing her train of thought. How much of that was drunkenness and how much of it was her giving some serious thought to “another man,” I have no idea. I was a little too drunk to find out.
I pushed her onto the bed and tugged off her skirt and her swimsuit bottom. I fell onto her, kissing her. Her body was warm and she responded to me by pressing up against me.
It was a pretty standard lovemaking session – a little drunken, but nothing too wild.
Except for the fact that Shweta was, without a doubt, wetter than usual. And for being so drunk, she came like a rocket.  
The next morning had started out like any other; breakfast, Neha not awake yet.
  Wasim had made himself a cup of coffee and then told everyone he was moving the boat. He used the motor to get us out of the marina and then down the coast a bit, out in the middle of the water near a strip of beach with some roofs tucked away in the jungly forest.
Wasim had then gone for a swim, jumping off the side of the boat and disappearing for an hour.
Neha had come up to the deck lazily, her small robe loose around her fantastic body. She had microwaved something with the sloppy, dorm room etiquette of a late millennial, smiled at us, and trudged back to her room.
We went to the deck to get some fresh air with our coffee. It was a glorious morning. Wasim had returned, and we had all sat there on the deck without saying much.
Shweta moved to the lifeline and hung her feet over the side. I joined her. And there, sitting side by side at ten in the morning, holding coffee cups, we had gotten wildly turned on.
I couldn’t even say what had precipitated it.
She had reached over to feel my cock, and her fingers played with it through the material of my swim trunks. I slid my finger under the hem of her shorts, seeking her swimsuit, or her panties, with my fingertips.
As she had stroked my cock, I could feel that precum had started dripping out and making my suit stick to my cock. We had looked at each other, both of us, I think, a little surprised by the sudden and uncharacteristic heat between us, seemingly prompted by nothing at all.
I had yawned theatrically. “Eagh. I need a nap.”
And Shweta had followed suit.
That’s how we ended up stretched out on the bed at eleven in the morning, sweaty and smelling of sex. It was beyond my wildest expectations for this trip.
Shweta ran her fingers through her  hair.
Her hair was the darkest thing about her, and in only two days of sun it was bleaching out. Her eyes were an icy, pale blue. The round pools of flesh around her nipples, and her most intimate parts, were pale pink clit like her generous mouth. Absolutely nothing covered the pink petals of her pussy, which I took the time to sneak a peek at by lifting the sheet.
“You have a sunburn,” I said.
Shweta panicked and looked down at her body. “What?!” she said.
Finding that I had lied, she slapped me playfully on the butt, which is what I had really been after, anyway. “I do not,” she said, almost defensively.
I traced the line of her swimsuit along her shoulder and over her breast. I made a circle around her ample bosom, and under it, back up to her shoulder on the opposite side. “You do have a tiny bit of a tan,” I said.
My fingers started down, headed for the barely visible tan line on the lower half of her body. Even though we had just sneaked in a quickie, to my surprise and delight, I was ready for another round. The sea air seemed to have invigorated Shweta.
Or possibly – and this was a hope I nurtured very close to my heart, because it was so unlikely – possibly, she had been invigorated by Wasim and Neha’s lifestyle?
“Hey-you-guys!” Neha’s voice, a singsong lilt heavily coated with the valley-girl intonation so typical of her age group, called down through the forward hatch. “We’re leaving for the beach in like fifteen if you’re coming.”
We heard her feet above us. “I know you’re not sleeping,” she teased. “Come on, Piyush. We have to sail a bit to get there.”
Shweta smiled at me. “Come on, Piyush,” she said.
“You better come up, too,” I said. “You’ll get sick down here.”
Shweta rolled onto her back and gave a sexy, feline stretch that almost set me to wanting to fuck her again. “I’ll be up in a bit. I, um… need a different suit.”
I picked up her bikini bottoms. They were, in fact, encrusted with her dried excitement. They smelled incredible. I took a long inhale.
Shweta pushed herself up like a lightning bolt and snatched them from me.
“Gross!” she said.
I shrugged and shimmied into my swimming trunks. Then I headed out the door.
“Sunscreen!” Shweta warned me.
“Sure thing,” I said, not really intending to follow up on it.
Shweta took her time coming up to the deck, and by the time she got there the boat was heeling hard in a brisk wind and we were really clipping along.
She had put on a new bikini, a purchase she had made in Male. I secretly believed that she had been influenced to buy the skimpier suit after seeing Neha sunbathing in her own skimpy bikinis. Neha had taken her shopping, and had repeatedly complimented my wife’s excellent body.
This all happened before she knew that Wasim and Neha were swingers, but I liked to believe that she had been a little interested in the attention that men were giving Neha. A little turned on by the idea that they would give it to her as well.
The new suit was black, and, as she had said herself, she was really glad that she had gotten a Brazilian wax before the trip. This was standard procedure for Shweta whenever we went to a beachy vacation (and was just one more motivator for me to get a yacht)… but because we hadn’t been on a beachy vacation in quite some time, the wax was as new and exciting to me as though she hadn’t ever had one before at all. I loved to cup her smooth pussy in my hand while we spooned. I loved the feel of her bare skin, the promises her wet insides just beneath the surface…
The bikini was one of those skimpy bits that had nothing but small triangles to cover her breasts and her mound, and the suit became a little loose when it was wet. Not loose enough to actually see anything, but loose enough to tantalize with the promise of revealing some private part of her.
Over the bikini, she had a very loose-fitting cover-up. Alternating transparent strips teased like a stripper’s costume, giving snippets of her bikini’d body and then hiding them away, over and over again from just below the curve of her ass to her shoulders, where it hung sexily and loosely.
She sat down on the couch on the deck, a little unsteadily because of the heel of the boat, and stretched her legs out to get some sun.
“Hun,” I said, from the navigation area. “You have to have your life jacket on.”
Neha held up the end of her own life jacket and grinned. Even the spectacular Neha had to wear one. They were, luckily, those self-inflating ones that didn’t cover up too much of the ladies’ lovely swimsuits.




I had a hard time concentrating on trimming the sails with those two stretched out in the cockpit. Which says a lot, because I love sailing. Shweta returned with her life jacket on, and it pulled her swimsuit cover up to a delectable length that let a small part of her well-turned ass hang out. She started to apply sunscreen, rubbing the white liquid along the length of her legs erotically.
Wasim got the boat on a steady course and I hopped down to the cockpit to help my wife get the sunscreen everywhere it needed to be. Then we settled in for a quick sail to the mysterious Kaya’s Beach, near Rock Sound.
  “So Neha was telling me,” Shweta said in a whisper, taking my arm and shutting the door to our room even though I was only retrieving our beach towels, “that this is a… you know… swinger’s island.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“What does that even mean?” she said. She held her hand to her mouth, as though in shock, but her eyes were smiling.
“There are a lot of swings,” I said.
She slapped me on the arm. “Such a corny joke. I’m serious. Like… if we go, we don’t have to… you know….”
I pretended not to know. I made a stupid face and cocked my head.
She slapped me lightly again on the arm. “I’m serious. We don’t have to, um… participate or anything, right?”
“Actually,” I said, after giving it some thought. “I don’t know.”
Shweta bit her thumbnail. “Well, should we ask them? Maybe we should just stay here.”
I smiled. “Oh. I thought you were totally into swinging.”
This was a complete joke, but Shweta’s face did a very strange thing at that point. “Nooo,” she said quickly. “No, I’m – oh, God, you’re joking.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “You almost seemed a little… guilty-sounding there.”
“What?” Shweta said, and this was the most guilty-sounding thing of all. “I’m not… what are you talking about?”
Butterflies exploded in my chest. She was really acting like someone who’s just had her dark desires ferreted out. Someone caught watching porn, or thinking about something they wanted to keep private.
Well… it was really more like she was in fifth grade, and I had just accused her of “liking-liking”  The Class Hunk or something.
“So you’re not into swinging?” I teased.
“Stop it.” “I’m just making sure. Definitely a ‘no?’”
“Shut up.” “Because you seemed a little -”
Shweta rolled her eyes and threw the door open. “I swear it is like being married to a thirteen-year-old,” she complained.
But her sense of humor was intact. I watched her butt as she mock-stomped down the hallway, and then I quickly gathered our beach stuff, and joined her on deck.

[samcuck2]

Chapter 1 Part B

There was a little raft with a motor for getting to beaches, and the four of us fit snugly in it with all of our beach gear. Shweta and Neha were thigh-to-thigh at the bow, and they were quite a lovely sight and fertile ground for my imagination as we motored in to the beach.
The ladies stepped out and we dragged the boat to shore.
Neha was off immediately, and from the way she was welcomed by the handful of people on the shore, in the shade of a tree, she was well-known on this island.
I wondered how well-known.
Shweta waited for me to join her, beach bag clutched to her chest to ward off any potential swingers. Then she took my hand as we walked in the direction Neha had gone. Wasim waved us on; he had a few things to take care of with the raft.
Neha had joined some friends under the shade of some palm trees, and not knowing what else to do, we headed that way.
“Oh, my God,” Shweta said, and she paused in the sand for a moment. It was a fraction of a moment actually, and then she regained her composure and kept walking.
I saw what she was talking about: ahead of us, down the beach, there were several people bathing in the sun and playing a kind of badminton in the water.
Totally naked.
We kept walking.
After all, we were all adults here.
“I’ve heard about these places,”  Shweta said in a low voice, “but I’ve never actually... you know. Seen it.”
“Shweta!”
It was Neha’s voice.
“Shweta, Piyush!”
I had a hard time dragging my eyes from the couple playing badminton in the water. The woman was tan, with a large, exotic build. Her long black hair was wet and snaked along her shoulders and back when it was slapping her as she moved in the water. She had big, pretty breasts that were bouncing as she very competitively dove after the shuttlecock. She glistened with seawater and suntan oil, and if I caught her at the right angle I got a glimpse of her dark bush, neat and clean, between her round, dimple-free golden thighs.
Her partner was very dark man, huge in build with a very large cock that dangled between his legs, flopping in and out of the water as he, too, dove for the shuttle cock.
Shweta squeezed my hand, and we headed toward our friends, who, thankfully, were still clothed, although Neha was doing her best to look unclothed: she was wearing a bikini that almost exactly matched the color of her skin, a slightly almond-colored white, darkened by the sun. From a distance, she looked naked and featureless, like a Barbie doll, which was about what her build amounted to.
“Guys,” she said excitedly, because she said everything in an excited, breathy voice, “these are our friends Kelly and Greg.”
Kelly was an athletically-built, dark-haired beauty in her early thirtees. She even had a stain of red on her lips and dark sunglasses that obscured her eyes, but her nose was petite and upturned and there was no doubt that she was quite pretty behind the sunglasses. She was wearing a very tiny two piece bikni and her athletic body was looking very sexy in the two piece.
She extended a hand and smiled in greeting.
Shweta looked at me, and then took her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice was a little strange.
I watched Shweta. She seemed almost... star-struck by her new “swinger” acquaintances. Needless to say, this was the last reaction I had expected her to have. I could tell that she was attracted to them, interested in them. When Shweta gets interested in things, her eyes light up a little from behind and move around quickly, like she can’t possibly get in as much as she wants to before the world ends. She comes across as a little nervous when she does this, but those who know her best know she is actually investigating.
Thinking about her curiosity made my stomach twist a little. I could feel the sensation traveling downward, to my cock.
Greg moved closer to Shweta, and extended his hand. He was a very fit guy, probably in his mid-thirties. His movements and his stance were those of an athlete, and his physique confirmed the diagnosis. His stomach was flat and rippled by muscles, and his biceps neatly defined by the shape of hard work at the gym or in some athletic endeavor. He was dark like coal, and his black hair was bleached by the sun. “I’m Greg. Pleased to meet you,” he said, and his African accent came through, unmistakably.
I saw Shweta’s eyes travel quickly over his body. She put her hand out, and he brought it to his lips. I stared as he placed my wife’s fingers sensually against his mouth and gave her a kiss that was just a little too.. intimate.
The sensation traveled right through Shweta, I could almost feel it.
“Shweta,” she managed to say. She actually stumbled a little over the first syllable of her name.
And the two of them stood there smiling at each other, as if no one else was there. The moment lasted just a bit longer than proper, before Greg extended his hand to me and shook it. He had a firm grip, but not the kind that came from business or politics, where he was out to prove something. Just a guy with a lot of muscled strength in his fingers.
My heart kicked wildly in my chest and I stepped to put my legs a little further apart, because I was actually getting a light erection just being near all these possibilities. I wasn’t even actually allowing myself to think about them.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Neha said, waving a finger at Greg. “These two are just... along for the ride. We promised them we wouldn’t put any pressure on them.”
Greg smiled, and a disbelieving puff of air came from his nose. “That’s fine, mate,” he said, but he was looking at Shweta with a charming, bad-boy kind of gaze. “You might change your mind, though.”
At this point, Kelly and Neha exchanged a look. Then Kelly reached up to her husband with an empty glass in her hand. “Honey,” she said. “Get me another drink, would you.”
Greg took the glass, and looked around at the rest of us for drink orders.
Neha laughed again, and Kelly echoed it, which made me a little uneasy for some reason. Shweta gave me a look that at least let me know she wasn’t in on whatever the ladies were laughing about together in complicity.
Neha picked up a mat and a towel and stepped into the sun. “Oh God, I’m actually like, so tired,” she said. “I’m going to take a nap.” She looked back at us. “A real one.”
Shweta’s jaw dropped a little, but she snapped it back up into a smile very quickly.
Kelly shifted in her chair. “You want a chair in the shade?” she said to Shweta. I stared openly as her eyes ran up and down my wife’s body, sensually lingering on each curve. “You look like you need to stay out of the sun.”
I felt cold. I wasn’t super into girl-on-girl action, but watching Kelly check my wife out like that, so blatantly and right in front of me, was still a thrill.
“I have.. I use... I just put on... a lot of sun... screen,” Shweta stammered.
Kelly’s lips moved in a strange way, and her eyes moved over Shweta one more time. “I see.” She smiled and turned to me. “I suppose you’re going to put it on for her?”
There is no reason I have to, I thought about saying.
But Shweta looked at me desperately. “I’m a little beat,” she said quickly. “I think I’ll... go out in the sun, next to that tree there in case of... too much... sun.” She nudged me. “Come help me get my sunscreen on.”
We trudged through the sand, almost business-like in our quest to reach the tree. “Oh my God,” Shweta said, as she turned and swung her towel out in front of her.
At first I thought she was talking about the interaction with Kelly, but then I noticed she was looking at something. I followed her gaze and saw that Neha was adjusting herself on her towel, stretching out. Nothing peculiar there...
And then I squinted.
She had taken off her skin-colored suit. The only real way to know that was because her breasts, pointed straight at the sky, were topped by the two red-pink dots of her fat nipples, and a big swath of pink aureole below them. She stretched her legs out, and a slightly darker area between her legs indicated that she had also taken off her bottoms.
She looked stunning. Even though her bikinis left very little to the imagination, what there was, that we were now privy to, was incredible.
“Are these people going to gang--_ us on the beach?” Shweta said, in a low whisper.
But when I looked at her face, it was a mixture of pure jest, a little bit of shock, and what seemed like... excitement.
I shrugged. “Do you want them to?” Now, several days ago, even, Shweta would have quickly turned this into a pure joke, by saying something outrageous. Or she would have been so stunned that she would have moved to the far end of the beach to stay away from the possibility.
What she wouldn't have done – and what I didn’t expect her to do – was plop down on her towel and keep looking at the scene on the beach with a shrug.
“Here you are, Shweta, my dear,” a male voice said behind us.
We both looked up to see Greg handing a drink to Shweta, three more grasped in his right hand by sheer force, the tendons on the back of his hand stretched but not straining. He handed a beer to me from his left hand.
Then he winked at Shweta, who became a little flustered. Her chest heaved with a deep breath she took, and her upper lip trembled a little.
Greg gave off a little more charming heat, and left.
I sat down next to Shweta, on my towel which I had tried to lay out nicely but was largely in a heap.
“Maybe,” I said suggestively, “you want Greg to gang--_ you.”
Shweta stirred her drink and brought the straw sensually to her lips. “Hmm, it’s not really a gang--_ unless there’s more than one guy.”
The straw dropped a shiny droplet of gin and tonic onto her lips. She put her thumb into her lips and sucked off some lime that had had gotten on her fingers when she squeezed it.
That wasn’t a “no” to the idea of Greg.
I felt my cock throbbing to life.
I ran a finger along Shweta’s thigh, and I was pleased to see that the back of her neck bristled with goosebumps. The same thick feeling of excitement that had grown between us on the boat was gathering in the air now. I could feel it. I longed to slide my fingers into Shweta’s suit to see if she was feeling it as intensely as I was.
She gave me a look, one that was both inviting and somewhat admonishing at the same time.
We looked out onto the beach. The badminton players were still at it, though they had been joined by a third man. This guy was wearing black swim trunks. The game was getting more tightly-knit; they had moved in toward each other and they were talking much more than playing the game.
I watched and sort of spaced out as I was doing so, tuning out everything else that was happening around me. There was something extremely sensual and sexual about the way the three of them were playing badminton, and it wasn’t just that they were naked.
Eventually, the woman and the naked man moved so close to each other that the badminton shuttlecocks were just a pretense. Quite suddenly, there in the open, the naked man was trailing his fingers over the large breasts of the woman, who was standing casually, with her hand on one hip, letting him do it.
The other man was watching. Just standing there, close to the two of them, and watching.
I became very suddenly aware of where I was, and my eyes flew around the scene on the beach. There were a few couples together on towels. Some of them seemed to have their eyes on what was happening in the water, and some of them did not.
To our right, Wasim and Greg were involved in a discussion that was taking all of their attention away from the water.
I looked back at Shweta, who was transfixed by the scene in the water.
Watching her face, a cocktail of feelings traveled through me. I was surprised – “bowled over” might be a better expression - by Shweta’s reaction. I had hoped to keep Wasim and Neha’s lifestyle a secret (though I could see now how completely preposterous that idea had been). But I had planned for the contingency that it might come out on the trip, and thought of all the ways that Shweta might react.
Except... the way she was actually reacting.
My cock pulsed again.
“So are they...” Shweta murmured, twisting the straw between her fingers sensually and rubbing the top of it along her lower lip. It was one of the most sexual things I’d ever seen in my life, and certainly from Shweta. Her eyes were big, swallowed up by her excited pupils, and her mouth seemed redder and fuller as she dragged the straw over her lips like she was teasing a cock.
“Are they going to just... do it? Right here?” she finished finally.
Her eyes were still on the group, who were moving out of the water, hands all over each other.
The man wearing his swim trunks seemed to be there mostly to watch, but when they reached the beach he slid his swim trunks down and took his cock in his hand. The woman and the man who had been playing badminton were all over each other now.
Shweta cleared her throat when the sensual woman dropped to her knees.
I looked over at my wife. The explicitness of the scene had evidently become too much for her. She was blushing. “I am... eghem. Taking my snorkel and going.. out... way over there,” she said, pointing to the right of the couple and an area of the water that looked safely abandoned.
She grinned at me, like “can you believe this shit?” and slapped my leg. “You come, too,” she said.
Then she fished her snorkel out of her bag, stood up, and practically ran to the edge of the water. I allowed myself a glance back at the scene on the edge of the water.
The woman had gotten on her knees and her badminton partner had his hand in her dark, wet hair. He was cradling her head with his large hand, and her face was pressed close to his pelvis.
“Holy...” I said under my breath.
The boxer-clad guy was now unclothed, and he was standing quite close to the pair.
The woman’s head shifted suddenly, and the boxer-man had his hand in her hair.
I looked away quickly. Shweta was wading into the water.
While the scene of the dark-haired white woman sucking two black cocks on her knees in broad daylight in front of this whole crowd was a sight I could hardly take my eyes off, Shweta’s full bottom blooming from behind her small bikini, a patch of sand on the right cheek, was calling to me.



Also, even for me, this was a little... risque.
I took my snorkel and followed Shweta into the water.
The water was crystal-clear, and the sand beneath it was white. I could see Shweta’s body in vivid detail as she stretched out and floated, then flipped over and began to swim in graceful strokes. She was an avid swimmer, and her arms and legs moved in synchronized motions that hardly splashed. I watched her move away from me, using a somewhat futile breast stroke to try and catch up with her.
At last she slowed, and her legs floated down to the floor of the bay. The water was still no more than four feet deep, even though we were so far out.
She had also, I noticed, moved slightly to the left, in a direction closer to the threesome on the beach.
I kept swimming, enjoying the view of her body in her swimsuit, the streaks of reflected sunlight rippling over her body.
“Wow,” I heard her voice as I neared. “I can’t believe it’s this shallow all the way out here.”
I stood up. She had propped her snorkel on her head. The nose-piece had left a small crease of red on her nose, but other than that, her sea-water clean face was fresh and pretty, a rosy tint in her cheeks. She was smiling, and her hair was clinging to her  cheek and her shoulder, still blonde even though it was wet.
“Isn’t it great?” she said to me.
I pulled her close to me, because the energy driving me earlier on the beach had not worn off. “It is great,” I said.
She wrapped her legs around me and floated easily in my arms, her heels against the small of my back. I knew she could feel my erection against the fabric of her bikini. I slid my fingers under her bikini straps and peeled the top away until just the part covering her nipples remained.
“Piyush,” she breathed, a faint protest, partially encouraging. But she looked past my shoulder toward the beach.
I could feel the heat between her legs against my cock, and she pushed her hips forward to grind against me. I leaned forward and bit the salty fabric of her bikini right where I thought I might find her nipple. I was satisfied as my teeth found a hard pebble, and she sucked in her breath.
Taking the fabric between my teeth, I pulled it down and away from her breast until her pink nipple was exposed. I swirled my tongue over the silky flesh of her areola, lightly on the first pass, and then pressing urgently the second time. Then I sucked her already-hard nipple into my mouth and played with it with my tongue.
He squirmed against me. Again, she said, “Piyush,” in a vague kind of protest. But her body was pushing against mine, and she was not trying to actually stop me as my hands slipped down to her bikini bottoms and slipped under the fabric.
Her skin was rubbery with seawater wetness, all along her inner-most thigh and her outer lips. But when I probed into her inner lips I found the slick, unmistakable wetness of her excited cunt. She was really, really wet. Even though the sea was sucking her juices away quickly, they just kept coming, so her pussy was a slick, slippery, hot anemone.
I shimmied out of my boxers, just enough to free my cock. I was still sucking on her nipple, and I moved my mouth to attend to her other one.
I pushed her bottoms aside with my fingers and guided my cock to her pussy.
She was many degrees hotter than the water around us, and the heat kissed and then enveloped the tip of my cock and made me throb with desire.
She pushed herself onto me, and I felt my cock encased in one thrust in her hot, liquid pussy. She was so lightweight in the water that we were able to fuck almost effortlessly, but the angle of her pussy stroked parts of my cock in a new way, almost like masturbating with the wrong hand.
For a moment we just fucked quietly, the water lapping around our slowly rocking bodies. I was enjoying the immersion, in her, in the water, in the moment, and I pictured her with her eyes closed doing the same as me.
She began, very rapidly, to get a little wild. She started to grind hard against me, and speed up the pace. She placed both hands on my shoulders to get better leverage, and she began to really fuck me.
When I opened my eyes and looked at her face, her mouth was open and her pink mouth panting a little. Beads of seawater or sweat dotted her cheek and her forehead, and her eyes were open wide.
She was looking – staring – over my shoulder.
At the scene on the beach.
I could feel her pussy clenching around my cock, an orgasm rising up inside of her and hardening her insides as it prepared to shake her. Her pussy was incredibly wet, incredibly hot, and she was fucking me with more abandon than I could remember her having in a long time.
I knew that she was watching something on the beach – some debauchery that I would have loved to have seen – but I didn’t dare move to take it in. Staring at her face, at the expression in her eyes and the slackness of her mouth as she rose to the crest of her climax was more erotic for me, anyway.
It was almost like catching her masturbating to some porn, which I often fantasized about, but never imagined she would do. Now, here she was, her pussy tightening up around my cock and her juices gushing into the ocean, all because she was watching some live sex on the beach.
She gasped, and thrust her hips forward. At that moment, her pussy clamped down hard around my cock and she squeezed her eyes shut as if it were too overwhelming for her. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and for a moment her pussy was so tight, hot and wet around my cock I thought maybe the world had frozen in time.
Then, in pulses, her cunt began to relax.
I don’t know if she kept watching what was happening on the beach, but I liked to think so.
I grasped her hips, and she leaned forward and bit into my shoulder gently as I fucked my cum into her. As I did, I thought about her, leaning onto my shoulder, her teeth biting gently into my flesh, and her mind miles away – or just meters away – thinking of another man.
After I came, we floated in the water, clinging to each other and panting lightly with the exertion. Shweta’s pussy throbbed around my cock, hot and still gushing. Her skin was hot against mine, and the water around us seemed very cold by comparison.
Finally, she leaned back, her arms still hanging on my shoulders. She had a sheepish look on her face but also a little smile.
I turned around, so that she had her back to the beach. The sheepishness of her expression increased as I looked over her shoulder.
“Hmm,” I said. “What were you watching so intently, I wonder?”
I felt her cunt constrict around me, and a faint blush traveled from high on her cheekbone down to her jaw.
On the beach, though it wasn’t extremely clear, I could see the entangled bodies of three figures in the sand. Likely our badminton threesome. Their legs were entwined and they were writhing on the beach like snakes, though I couldn’t see much detail because they were blending into the sand.
My cock, which was still semi-hard inside of Shweta, pulsed with excitement.
I looked at Shweta. Her face was flushed, and her body was still searing hot. She shifted on my cock and sent another tremble of excitement through me.
But her face – the flush of her cheeks, the greedy look in her eyes – is what really made me start to get hard again, as incredible as it seemed.
“What are they doing now?” she whispered, her eyes on mine.
Her cunt pulsed around my cock, and I could feel all the blood rushing back to where it had come from.
“I can’t see very well,” I said.
Shweta leaned to the right, and used her strong swimming stroke to propel me with her legs so that we turned in the water, perpendicular to the beach.
We faced each other, and Shweta had this kind of half-smile on. Then her eyes lowered and swung to the left, sneakily, without turning her head. The smile on her face made my cock pulse inside of her again, and she lifted herself up and re-adjusted her weight on me, driving me even wilder.
“I think they’re... oh my gosh,” she said. She moved her eyes back toward me, but kept them lowered. She brought her fingers to her mouth, almost like she was too ashamed to say anything. “I think she’s... they’re... you know...”
I did not know. I waited, watching her face, and my cock thickened inside of her. I was ready to go again, if only Shweta would watch the trio on the beach and tell me about it while she did.
“What are they doing?” I prompted, and I slowly slid inside of her, in and out. She squirmed in my hands, and her body heat seemed to spike yet again.
She giggled nervously. “They’re like, double-teaming her.”
I knew what this meant, but I had the urge to get her to say something more about it.
“Double-teaming her, how?” I said.
Shweta blushed.
I pushed myself deep inside of her and used my hands to move her hips against my pelvis. Her lips parted as she took obvious pleasure from it.
“One of them in her... you know, up front, and the other in her... ass.”
There was no mistaking that however much trouble she was having talking about it, she had no problem getting off on it. Her pussy oozed with another shot of excitement, and it kissed the length of my cock, hot and creamy.
I really wanted to see the scene on the beach myself, but more than that I wanted to watch Shweta’s face as she watched it. I had never seen her like this before. I had certainly never fucked her underwater – twice in ten minutes – before.
I turned so that Shweta had a view of the beach scene over my shoulder.
She started to lean forward, and I used a hand to push her by the chest so that she leaned back a little and I could see her face.
She took the cue and braced her body against mine with her hands straight against my shoulders.
I watched her face as she looked at the beach scene and I grasped her hips, moving her body along the length of my shaft. Her eyes were so absorbed by the scene that again she almost looked hypnotized, and her mouth hung open sensually. The water lapped at her nipples, and her pussy was still so wet and overflowing that I was sliding through her like butter.
Finally her eyes closed halfway, and her mouth fell open a little more. “Oh God,” she said.
“What are they doing?” I asked her.
But Shweta was too close, too caught up in whatever she was seeing, and, at the end of the day, still a little too reserved to tell me. So I moved her in a half-circle and took in the scene myself as my wife came for a second time:
The woman on the beach was on her hands and knees, and she had a cock in her mouth and another behind her, though whether it was in her pussy or her ass could not be seen from that distance.



What I did get to see, and what made me come at the same time that my wife’s pussy squeezed out her own orgasm, was that after a few moments of this, the man who had his cock in her mouth came, and then the one behind her moved from her ass to her mouth. She turned around to meet him, and she got to work sucking his cock.
The three of them collapsed on the sand.
Shweta leaned forward and placed her lips on my shoulder to muffle a giggle. For a moment we floated in the water like that, Shweta breathing onto my skin, my ears still pounding with the force of so much exertion in succession.
Finally Shweta slipped away from me, and the very cold-feeling water gripped me instead of her warm body. She dropped her feet to the ocean floor and adjusted her bikini. Her face went a little red again.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said, and her eyes darted back to the beach.
“I can’t believe we just did that twice,” I said.
Shweta gave me a sheepish smile, and then she let herself fall back to floating on her back. She adjusted her bikini top and her long, pretty legs unfolded in the water. I noted with some satisfaction that her bikini bottoms were the tiniest bit stretched out of shape. I admired the way they were a little loose against the curve of her waxed pubic bone, hinting at the shape of her cunt, almost giving me a peek at it.
“Do you think anyone noticed us?” she asked, cringing slightly.
I took her foot and pulled her back to me. She floated by, smiling, and I trailed a hand over the curves of her body as she passed by me. “I don’t know,” I said, with a shrug. “I think the other scene probably attracted more of an audience.”
Shweta’s eyes went back to the beach. “Oh my God,” she said. “Everybody’s disappeared except...” she cleared her throat. “You know. Those guys.”
I looked behind me, and Shweta slapped me in one of those, “don’t-be-so-blatant” slaps. A scan of the beach revealed that Greg, Kelly, Wasim and Neha had, indeed, disappeared. The trio had been reduced to just two, and the woman was sunbathing on a towel as though nothing had happened. The boxer guy had his boxers back on and he was sitting up, looking out into the water with sunglasses on.
He seemed to be looking at us.
“Maybe they just went to go get drinks,” I suggested, and this made Shweta smile.
“Oh man,” she said. “How do we... like, when is it okay to go back there?”
“What do you mean?” I teased.
Shweta blushed again.
“C’mon,” I said, pulling her along by the foot and placing a hand under her to help her float like a goddess in the water. I slid a finger under her bikini top, along the curve of her bottom. “You didn’t seem to be... bothered by it about five minutes ago.”
Shweta kind of snorted. “That’s different,” she said, and her voice was very fun, very endearing. She crinkled up her nose. “I can’t go up there and just walk by some people who are... you know...”
I lifted my shoulders and raised my eyebrows, as though I were ignorant of the whole thing. “Having sex,” Shweta said. She grinned and put her hand to the side of her mouth as she said it, and I really couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or just making a joke at that point.
“Why not?” I said. I was half-joking as well, equally unsure of how much I was teasing and how much I was making a serious suggestion. “It was really hot. Maybe we should try something different.”
Shweta looked very shocked, very suddenly. She drew her feet down to the floor of the ocean again and stood, moving her hands as though she were treading water, in a crouch that brought her chin down below the water. “You aren’t serious.”
I looked behind me. Greg was emerging from the shrubbery, two drinks in hand, and the sensual Neha was next to him, naked, her mouth open in a laugh, her hands on his arm. They looked as much a couple as she and Wasim did.
For a moment a delicious surge of proxy-jealousy tore through me.
“I don’t know,” I said, tipping my head slightly in the direction of the beach. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
Shweta made a face. She moved her head in a slow shake, “no,” and stared at the scene on the beach. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think all that stuff is like... sexy as a thought, and then... not really that great in real life. Like... they can’t be all that happy in their marriage.”
I let myself sink into the water until I was facing her. “I don’t know,” I said. “They seem okay to me.”
Shweta shook her head slowly again. “No way.”
“Why not?”
Shweta looked at me. “Are you asking me that seriously?”
She was getting a slightly pissed-off tone to her voice, so I decided to back off.
“I mean, I’m not saying it’s for me,” I said, slowly. “I’m just saying... they seem okay with it.”
“Would you be okay with it?” she challenged me.
This was a loaded question.
If I dug deep, the answer to this question was: “it’s complicated.”
The thought of Shweta having sex with another man cut two ways when I thought about it. One cut was very, very pleasant. The other was a smoldering jealousy, a terrifying feeling of risk.
But Shweta was looking at me with a very challenging expression, and I was gathering that she wanted a certain answer. “It’s complicated” was not the right answer.
Not yet, anyway.
“No... God. Of course not,” I said.
My tone sounded convincing to me.
Shweta seemed satisfied by this answer, and her face softened.
She floated again, and I ran my fingers along her legs, my eyes on the rippling, loosened fabric of her bikini bottom and the shape of her mound. My mind on the idea of her lying with her face on the hard, shoreline sand, her eyes staring directly at me, and a big, fat cock that wasn’t mine sawing in and out of her.
“I mean,” she said, after a while and unprompted. “It’s fun to fantasize about, I guess...”
My cock started to twitch to life again, even though I was numb with that fucked-out, pleasantly emptied feeling.
“But it’s kind of like anal sex or something. More fun to think about.”
I lost my smooth composure. I pulled on her leg and jerked her toward me. ‘What?!” I said. “Anal sex, or something? Do you fantasize about anal sex?”
I was pretty sure that in my whole life I had never heard Shweta even say the word “anal.” Not even in the term “anal-retentive,” which she deplored.
“No!” she said quickly, and with such a measure of defense that I knew it was a lie. “Just... you know. I know people do, and then it isn’t... oh, never mind.”
She was really flustered.
I was about to say something to keep the conversation going – not that I was really into anal sex, so much, as I was into the fact that I seemed to be uncovering a secret side to my wife, a new layer of her sexual mind that I had never even suspected existed – but Shweta spoke first.
“So, seriously. How do we get back up there without, um... you know. I don’t want my fingers to get pruny.”
She was smiling again.
My heart was on a bit of a roller-coaster ride. I was seeing exciting sides of my wife, sexualized sides of my wife, and mysterious parts of my wife, as though there were a whole other person inside of her that I hadn’t met yet.
She was looking past me to the beach. “I think they’re, uh... that part’s wrapped up,” she said.
She floated past me, turning onto her back again and looking back at me as she used her arms to propel herself toward the shore.
“Well come on,” she said. “I don’t want to go up there myself.”
And she flipped over on her stomach at that point. A breeze had picked up and the surf was just loud enough to interfere with her voice, so I don’t actually know if I heard this correctly or not. But I think she said:
“Who knows what they’ll do to me?”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, whether I heard or not, set me to thinking. A lot.
About them doing all kinds of things to her.

[Blue Bull]

Oh! Great .......... very nice ...... keep it up ........

[ghost19]

Good story

[samcuck2]

2: AN IDEA
We wrapped up the day on the beach fairly tamely, to my surprise. Wasim said he couldn’t be boating around drunk and he was taking the raft back to the boat around four, so we sat in the sun on the beach. Around three Shweta moved in toward the group for some shade, so I went with her.
That’s when I got my first glimpse of another guy checking my wife out, intimately, and in front of me.
Shweta set her towel on the sand and leaned back against a pile of beach bags so she could be lying down and still upright to drink an iced tea that Greg had fetched for her.
I was behind my sunglasses, as was Shweta, so no one had any way of knowing what we were looking at. I suppose Greg maybe guessed that I was asleep behind my dark shades – a tactic I made a note to use in the future.
As to how oblivious Shweta was to what she was doing and how Greg was reacting to her, I will never know. Something had piqued her interest, there was no denying that.
Before he retrieved a drink for her, there were several occasions when Shweta ran her fingers under the form of her bikini, as though to adjust it. When she did this, the material lifted from her body, enough for Greg to catch a glimpse of her shaven pussy. And he practically gazed at it.
This was stirring – I didn’t know if Shweta had her eyes closed, or open; if she was doing it with the intention of giving Greg a little glimpse and savoring that she was making him hungry for her, or if she honestly had no idea that he was peeking each time she did it.
Then she spilled a little bit of her drink onto her chest. The cool pink liquid made her suck in her breath, and look down at where the daiquiri had piled on her chest and started to melt. A slow trickle of sweet, sticky pink was snaking between her breasts.
“Shoot,” Shweta said.
Greg was watching the daiquiri as it made its way down her body. The look on his face, though, was that of an unabashed predator. The thoughts he was having about my wife were practically broadcasting from his hungry eyes.
Shweta tried to pull her towel up to wipe it off, but it was under her body and not long enough. “Shoot,” she repeated. “Do you have a napkin or something?”
She said this to both Greg and Neha, but it was Greg who responded, after a thoughtful pause.
“Maybe I could lick it off,” he suggested.
I had to fight hard to keep from jerking my body at his words. I wanted to look like I was asleep, to continue to watch… to see what my wife would do.
Shweta turned her head slightly in my direction. She gave me a sharp look, and then she looked back at Greg and gave him an uncomfortable smile. “I.. no, not.. no, thanks, to that,” she said.
Neha laughed, a low rumble in her throaty warble. “Leave her alone, Greg. There’s a towel right there.”
Greg took the small hand towel Neha was pointing at, never taking his eyes off Shweta and the sticky daiquiri sliding over her chest. He stood up, leaned over her, and wiped it off.
My cock throbbed.
Shweta took the towel from him quickly and said, “thanks, I...”
“Greg, I told you, she’s not in the lifestyle. You’re pushing it,” Neha said, a little more forcefully.
Greg stepped back, still admiring my wife. “That’s awfully sticky stuff,” he said. “You’re going to want to -”
Shweta jumped up. “I think I’ll go get in the water,” she said. “Just to...” She looked at me, and I must have done an excellent job of pretending to be asleep, because she looked away quickly and trotted off.
I fought to keep my breath calm and hopefully keep my cock from alerting everyone to my heightened state of arousal.
“That,” Greg said, watching Shweta as she walked to the beach. “Is a shame.”
Neha sipped her drink. She was using a straw and she was doing it like she was sucking a cock. “Maybe so,” she said, “but you’re going to foul out if you keep acting like that.”
Both of them looked over at me, and I closed my eyes even though I knew they couldn’t see them through the sunglasses. The conversation died away and when I opened my eyes and veered them to the left, I was able to see Shweta in the water.
She began by splashing water on herself at the shore, but when she looked up at the beach and saw the number of men who were watching her lustfully (or at least, I imagined they were), she decided to slowly stroll into the water and sit down in the shallows to relax with her back turned to the beach.
Before long, it was time to head back to the boat, and so we piled into the raft and Wasim motored us back.
Upon boarding the boat, I noticed that Shweta had a bit of a sunburn. I touched her back gently, and left a white thumbprint on her pink skin. “Oh, babe,” I said. “You’re not gonna like this.”
“Shit,” Shweta said. “I forgot to re-apply.” She frowned, looking over her shoulder as though she would see her own sunburned back.
“Help me get some aloe on it, would you?” she said.
This seemed like a purely perfunctory request, until we ducked into the hatchway and down the steps. In the living area she looked back at me, a little impishly. “Why didn’t you offer to lather me up again?” she said.
She pulled her cover-up off as she walked and reached behind her to untie her bikini.
The material slid open and the small pieces of fabric dangled forward, sliding off her arms. She was bared by the time we entered our compartment and I closed the door.
Shweta jumped playfully onto the bed and opened a cupboard to grab a bottle of aloe. The bottle spurted, sounding to my ear like a bottle of lube, as she poured a little onto her palm.
But then she looked back at me. “I think you should do this,” she said. “Make sure you get me everywhere.”
I was fairly unused to my wife acting like this. Maybe there had been a time, long ago in the past and so buried I could scarcely recall it – but I sort of doubted it.
Something was definitely taking a hold of Shweta and activating her libido.
I got onto the bed on my knees and held my hand out. She squirted the gel into my hand, which felt icy-cold and for some reason was very arousing against my palm. Then she turned so that her back was to me.
I swiped it onto her shoulders, and she shivered a little. Goosebumps spread over her upper body, down her spine. I used my free hand to tug on her bikini and see if they had gone all the way to her bottom; they had.
Slowly, I rubbed the aloe in to her skin, and the goosebumps faded away except for at her neck. I kissed her, and slid my hand down to her butt, between her cheeks. It was still wet with aloe as I slid down to her anus and then quickly back up, not wanting to alarm her. While my fingers were there, I noticed that she was already getting wet.
“So,” I said, feeling a little brave. I traced my fingers up and down the length of Shweta’s torso. “I want to hear more about this... anal sex fantasy,” I teased.
Shweta slapped my hand away, but she did it playfully.
“Okay,” I said, when she didn’t offer any anal sex fantasy up. “If not that, then let’s hear more about this watching other people fantasy.”
Shweta put her arm up over her eyes. “That’s not my fantasy,” she said, a note of mystery in her voice. Her mouth was turned into a strange expression, a slightly pained smile. I couldn’t tell if she was smiling in spite of herself, or the other way around.
I lowered my head and crouched a little to kiss her on the stomach. “Are you sure?” I breathed onto her navel. “I feel like I wasn’t the only one who was really turned on today.”
I rubbed my lips over her skin, and I felt her muscles ripple with a ticklish flinch. When I looked up to her face, the smile was taking over her mouth. Her nipples were hard as little stones.
“Maybe you feel just a little bit inclined...” I said.
Shweta lay back on the bed, turning so she was on her back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I stretched out next to her. I decided to just spill it. Shweta was interested, I could tell.
I pulled on the strings of the bikini bottoms until the whole thing opened up to her bare cunt. I moved my hand down to her soaked pussy. “I’ll tell you the truth,” I said, “if you tell me the truth.”
Shweta’s eyes widened, but she seemed to be giving me consent. Sexy, wild-eyed consent.
“The thing I liked best about today,” I murmured, “was Greg looking at your pussy when you adjusted your bikini.” I smiled. “Did you know that he did that?”
Shweta’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to protest. I put my finger on her lips. “Oh, come on, Shweta. You did it like three times. Are you going to try to tell me you didn’t want him to see?”
A stain of red crept over her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” I said, working my fingers into the soaked folds of her pussy. “I liked it. In fact, I liked it a lot.”
Her eyes went wide again.
I kissed her mouth, and I found her clit with my fingertip. I was scarcely able to believe how wet her pussy was, and that this was the fourth time that day we would be having sex. Her body rippled with pleasure when I stroked the face of her clit.
“I have a fantasy,” I said. “Do you want to know what it is?”
Her lips parted, and she gave me a quick nod.
“Will you tell me what yours if I tell you?”
Again, the same glassy-eyed nod.
I whispered into her ear, making sure to get her lobe wet with my breath and my tongue. “I like to picture you with another man,” I breathed. “I like to fantasize about you letting a man like Greg fuck you while I watch.”
My cock pulsed as I said this, and I felt Shweta’s body ripple with excitement.
She seemed a little stunned by the revelation, and I kissed her mouth again, probing inside with my tongue. “Now you,” I said.
Shweta looked a little stunned. “I...” she said. She rolled over, so that I was spooning her.
“You promised,” I told her, kissing the back of her neck.
“I... I, um... is that really your fantasy?”
I sort of laughed.
“And what would you... what would you want me to do...?” she murmured. A long pause as my whole body went cold-hot with excitement. “With Greg? What would you want me to do?”
I slid my hand down to her pussy again and found her clit. It felt like it actually pulsed in my fingers.
I slid a finger inside of her, and fanned them out to slide one over her slick anus, one into her cunt, and one against her clit. She lifted her leg a little to help me. Her body twisted in excitement.
My cock throbbed against her ass, and I could feel precum gushing from the crown. Not much would have to happen for me to spill all over her, violently.
I used my free hand to push her hair from her neck. “What would you do, Shweta?” I breathed.
I stroked my finger over her puckered anus. “Would you want to let Greg do something to you that you fantasize about?”
She didn’t respond, she just squirmed.
I made a slow circle over her anus, and she gasped. “Would you let Greg put his cock in your ass?” I said. “Would you like that?”
The precum from my cock was dripping on her lower back and her butt now, hot and wet. My cock was aching.
“I... maybe,” she said.
I pushed the tip of my cock against her anus.
“Not… no, not yet,” she said. She pushed her butt back against me and tilted it so that my dick slid down to the soaked hole of her cunt. I hooked a hand under her thigh to lift it, and nudged her torso forward a little to slide my cock into her cunt. Her warm pussy felt so hot, so liquid around me, that I almost came like I was an adolescent again.
I moved slowly in and out of her, and both of us reverted into our own fantasy worlds. I knew she was thinking about her dirtiest thoughts, the ones she couldn’t yet tell me about. And I was thinking of them, too: picturing Shweta’s little butt-hole stretching open as a big, thick cock pushed inside of her and she moaned in pleasure.
We both came at nearly the same time, hard and violently like the times on the beach. So many orgasms had actually made me feel a little weak, a little dizzy. I shuddered my cum into her and let my arm fall over her. Slowly, my cock slipped from her pussy and the hot wet cum from inside of her bathed my dock and my balls.
Then we lay there.
“How much of a fantasy is this?” Shweta said, breaking up the silence very suddenly.
I kissed the back of her neck. “Truth?” I said, nuzzling her. “It’s not just a fantasy.”
Shweta’s body went stiff in my arms for a second. She turned to me. “Really? You’d really like to... you know... share me with someone else? Greg?”
I couldn’t read her tone.
I put my finger on her nose and slid it down the cute little slope. “Why? You wouldn’t like to have sex with a guy like Greg?”
She looked away. “Well, not... no. No, not really.”
My heart soared. Her tone was one she only used when she was lying. She was really, really lying now.
“Why’s that?” I said.
“I don’t understand,” Shweta said, defensively and to avoid the question, “why you would like that kind of thing.”
But the way she said it, looking toward the wall, was not a tone of admonishment. Or even, really, disbelief.
It was the kind of tone you use when you want someone to say something else. To elaborate. The kind of breathy, greedy tone a person uses to get sordid details without actually asking for them.
No problem, Shweta, I thought. I can oblige.
“I think I like the jealousy,” I said. I kissed her shoulder. “I think I like... I don’t know, exactly. The idea that you’re giving a performance for me.”
I wasn’t actually sure what the answer was, myself. I knew I wanted to see her pussy filled with Greg’s cock, I knew I wanted to watch her be defiled. But I couldn’t exactly say why.
She turned so that she was facing me, looking over her shoulder. “Is that it?” she said.
I shrugged.
She turned back to face the wall. I couldn’t get a very good read on what she was thinking.
“Don’t you have some kind of fantasy, say... anal sex... that you have a hard time explaining?”
She stretched her fingers out in front of her. “Yeah but that’s a fantasy. You sound like you actually want to do it. Or... me to do it.”
There was a long pause while my heart raced against her back.
“Look,” I said. “I do want you to do it...”
She waited. “But...?”
“Huh?”
She wriggled around to face me. “It sounded like there was a ‘but’ in there.”
“Well... ‘but,’ I don’t want you to do something you don’t really want to do...”
Shweta looked at me, her eyes scanning my face. “But?”
She was smiling, which was good news for me. “But...” I said. “Well, it seems like maybe you’re not as opposed to it as... you want me to think.”
She turned to face the wall again. She let out kind of a “harrumph” as she did.
“And what makes you think that?” she said, after a while.
For a second, I thought she was mad, and I racked my brain for the best answer to her question, the one that was going to defuse the situation. I didn’t feel like ruining all the fun we’d had with a fight, nor did I feel like endangering my boat plans by pissing Shweta off.
Don’t get me wrong: I loved the idea of Shweta being into this.
You just get to a certain age and you’re able to calculate chance a lot better. I figured I had about a 1% chance of Shweta agreeing to fuck some other guy, and an 85% chance of convincing her to get this boat as long as she didn’t sour on the whole thing because we had some stupid fight.
I was gathering her up in my arms, ready to kiss the back of her neck and soothe her, when I realized that she was kind of giggling.
“And what makes you think that?” had been a joke. A joke, because she knew that she was turned on by it. She was admitting it.
Wow.
My heart started to race, and against all odds, I could feel my cock getting hard again.
“Anyway,” she said, kissing my hand. “I don’t think I’d actually go through with -”
She cut herself off when she felt my cock throb against her bottom.
Turning slightly to face me, she widened her eyes in amazement.
“Wow,” she said. “You really do like that idea.”
We didn’t finish that conversation, because we were too occupied with other things.

[Givemeextra]

Nice going. Hope more seductions before sex

[samcuck2]

Part 3: CHANGE OF PLANS
We fell asleep after that, and when we woke up it was about 9 pm and Wasim and Neha were in their suite. It was impossible to know if they had guests over or not, so Shweta and I giggled as we tried to figure out how to cook something in the kitchen, which was surprisingly convoluted considering that the boat could almost sail itself. Shweta lay on the couch on the deck while I hopped over to the marina bar and obtained some take-out sandwiches for us.
It was a beautiful night, yet again, and pretty fun lounging around on the deck with Shweta. We found the hammock and giggled some more trying to string it up, found some beers and took a break to drink them, and then figured it out on the next round. Then we swung in the hammock as we watched the stars, which were glorious. We were both asleep again in no time.
I woke up because I was cold as hell. I wrangled myself free of the hammock and looked around for some blankets. I finally had to drag the covers from our room upstairs, but I never got back to sleep after snuggling back in. By then it was dawn and seagulls had begun screeching away for the marina to get busy dispensing their breakfast.
Wasim hopped onto the deck and waved good morning to us, then offered to make us some coffee.
We drank it in the hammock while Wasim hopped around on the boat, performing a weekly check of the automated systems, the winches and the cleats of his boat. I snuggled with Shweta, our feet hanging off the hammock, and thought about how it was the perfect day so far. The vacation couldn’t have been going any better than it was: my wife was aroused and wanted to have sex all the time, she liked the boat, and I was on my way to a better love life, maybe even a sexual fantasy, and at the very least a rekindling of our marriage – which like anyone’s had gotten a little stale. I was almost 100% I was going to have her blessing to get my own boat, and that she would join me enthusiastically in adventures on the –
“FUCK!”
Wasim yelled from the bow, and it was no ordinary yell from a man like Wasim. Not an “I’ve fucked something up” or “something is out of place” yell. This was a “kicked in the balls” yell.
I leaned forward to get out of the hammock, which we were sitting in facing the stern. When I looked back at the bow of the boat, Wasim was nowhere to be seen.
That’s when I started to put together all the seconds before, and remembered the slight movement of the yacht right before he yelled…
I made my way quickly to the bow and looked over the edge.
Wasim was on the dock, and the sight was horrifying. “Shit,” I said.
His leg was clearly broken. The femur. His face had already gone white with shock and another awful yell was building up from behind his anguished features. “God DAMMIT! FUCK!” he screamed.
I looked back at the hammock. “Get Neha!” I yelled at Shweta. My logic had taken several leaps: I didn’t know what the emergency number was here, and I didn’t have a phone. Neha was actually pretty boat-savvy and good in stressful situations, and she surely had some idea.
Just then, someone in a marina uniform came running down the dock. “He needs a doctor!” I said. I climbed over the pulpit, and that’s when I realized what must have happened to him – he either fell or stepped wrong off the bow.
I looked back down at his leg and then paused, taking my time to make sure I didn’t end up with the same fate. His leg was twisted at such a terrible angle – no bone protruding but it was somehow warped and obviously broken. I felt queasy for a second and then I closed my eyes and pulled my shit together.
“Call Ambulance!” I repeated. “He needs an ambulance.”
I dropped onto the deck and crouched by Wasim, who was hyperventilating now.
“Wasim, buddy,” I said, gripping his shoulder. “Look at me. You gotta calm down.”
Wasim just yelled, loudly.
It seemed like forever, while a small crowd grew and I tried to talk Wasim into calming down because I had no idea what kind of first aid to administer to a person with a broken femur. Neha came and held his hand, and then a man pushed through claiming to be a doctor so we all backed off.
He was assessing the injury when the paramedics arrived – in the end, they came quite quickly, even though it seemed like hours as Wasim sat there growing pale and yelling in absolute agony. They gave him some morphine and then they told him they were going to straighten his leg.
They packed him up and the ambulance left with Neha in it. “I’ll call you..” she said vaguely.
We watched them leave.
“What the hell happened?” Shweta said. “Jesus.”
“I think he just… stepped off the boat wrong...” I looked up at the bow. Shweta followed my gaze, and so did the onlookers who remained on the dock.
The small crowd degenerated into tales of medical trauma, and so Shweta and I listened for a bit and then faded away aft to board the boat. We sat down, stunned, on a seat in the navigation area.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” Shweta said.
“Me either.”
“What do we do?” she asked. She looked around. “I mean… I guess we just wait, right? To hear from Neha? Or do we go to the hospital?”
My phone rang some time after that. It was Neha.
She sounded pretty shaken.
“He’s in radiology right now,” she said. “I don’t… no one can tell me anything – excuse me, excuse me, nurse?” Neha interrupted herself to ask the nurse where radiology was. She breathed back into the phone. “I don’t….”
“Do you need us to come down there?” I offered.
Neha paused. She seemed ready to cry. “I don’t… you know, can you get the, I forgot his insurance stuff, can you get it and bring it down here?”
“Can do,” I said, trying to be cheerful. “I’ll just… where is it?”
“It’s, um… gosh, I think it’s in our room under the – sorry? Yeah, just a second – I have to go now, it’s in our room in the brown bag, I think, I’ll… I’ll text you in a bit or, you do that if you don’t find it...”
There was lot of talking on the other end of the phone, and Neha was confused as she was confusing.
“What hospital?” I said.
“There’s...what? There’s only one,” she said. “I have to go.”
“Shit,” I said, pocketing my phone.
Shweta looked worried. “Well… let’s go. She stood up and headed to the deck.
We got dressed quickly – Shweta in a white sundress that looked stunning on her, cutting sharply between her breasts and quite short. I wanted to complement her but it didn’t seem like the right time.
I found Wasim’s insurance cards in the brown bag, exactly as Neha had said.
We walked quickly to the information center at the marina and asked how best to get to the hospital. The attendant called us a cab and we headed into the town in the heat.
The simple beauty of the island near the marina soon gave way to the stark reality of Maldives living: heat swelled up around us as we headed inland, the buildings deteriorated, evidence of hurricanes cropped up in piles in abandoned lots. There was a whole reality in which people had to actually live their lives.
The sight of it was jarring. Luckily it was only about seven minutes to the hospital.
We found Neha in a waiting room, who was relieved to see us but still had no information.
Then we waited for about two hours.
Neha leaned on her knee and let out a sigh. “Guys,” she said. “It’s awesome of you, but you don’t have to wait here. Why don’t you go back, have some lunch, and I’ll call?”
“No,” Shweta said, though her voice betrayed her desire to do exactly that. “We couldn't -”
“No really,” Neha said. “Wasim wouldn’t want you sitting around here. Go – make sure the boat’s okay, and maybe pay up for a few days extra at the marina?”
So we went back at her insistence, and then I decided to take her some lunch. “You should stay here,” I told Shweta. “I think Wasim would feel pretty bad about ruining your vacation. I’ll be right back. There’s nothing you can do, anyway.”
Shweta was torn. Hospitals gave her the willies, but she didn't want to be a jerk.
I smiled. “Wasim wouldn’t sit around waiting for you,” I said. “He’d squeeze in a dive or something.”
Which was true.
This seemed to console her, so she agreed to stay and pay the marina, get some groceries, and tidy up the boat for his return.
When I got to the hospital, Neha was nowhere to be found. I sat down in the waiting room, which had burgeoned with locals in the time we’d been gone, and I sent her text.
After about ten minutes she came down a hallway and scanned the room. I held up my hand and she came over to me, hurrying. She seemed flustered.
“What’s up?” I said. I held the Tupperware contained with a sandwich and salad out to her. “We made you some lunch.”
“Thanks,” she said, pushing her hair from her face. She set it aside and shook her head. “I can’t eat.”
“What’s going on?” I said.
She exhaled and blew her hair from her face. “It’s a really bad break,” she said. Her eyes were getting teary. “He needs surgery. They can’t do it here. They’re getting a med evac going and getting him prepped.”
“What?” I said. “You have to be kidding!”
She shook her head. “I, um… there are so many things to do. I have to -”
“Is he up? Can I talk to him?” I interrupted. Neha shrugged. “Not now. He’s pretty out of it. They can’t set the bone without a vascular surgeon or something.” She took out her phone and answered it.
“Yes. Oh, thank God, thank you for calling me.”
She pushed her hair away from her face as she listened to whoever was on the other line.
“Oh,” she said, finally. “Sahil, Jesus, thank you… what else do I need to -”
Neha looked more relieved with each passing second. She held her hand to her heart. “Thank you. Oh, wow, thank you so much… that’s, above and beyond. We… well, you know we’ll make it good with you in Male. Thank you, Sahil.”
“Who was that?” I asked, when she held the phone silently, staring at the screen.
Neha shook her head. She looked noticeably less tense. “These are some guys we hire sometimes to sail our boat. They called right back, they’re going to do it, and they booked, or, got a flight for me and everything on a cargo plane that will leave whenever I want to go so I can get there at the same time as Wasim.”
Oh yeah. The boat. There were so many details that were falling out of the sky on us.
“What do you need us to do? Should we go back to Male?”
Neha looked at me. “God. You won’t believe this, but just before Wasim got knocked out by the fucking morphine, do you know what he was saying?” She laughed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Not, ‘I love you baby,’ or anything like that. He said, ‘Make sure Shweta and Piyush stay for the whole trip. Piyush needs to get that boat.”
She employed a deep voice to imitate Wasim.
What a guy.
“That’s… no, we should just go back with -”
Neha held up a finger. “No. I’m serious, this is what he said. Twice. So no doubt you have to do it.”
“But...”
“Look, this crew is just two guys. They can run the boat themselves, if, you know, anything comes up. Actually, Sahil could sail that boat himself...” she got caught up in her own thoughts for a moment. “But, basically, anyway… you guys have fun, stay on the boat while they take it back, and that way you only lose a few days off the trip, and we’ll all have a good laugh about this in Male.”
I frowned. “I don’t know, Neha, it’s seems sort of shitty-”
“Nah,” she said. Then she smiled. “He wouldn’t have cut his trip short for you, you can bet on that,” she said. I smiled. “True enough.”
So I sat down with her while she ate and gave me the details of her arrangements.
Shweta was on the deck in her suit when I got back to the marina. There were quite a few guys on their own boats who were unabashedly admiring the view.
And from the way that Shweta had oiled herself up and spread her hair out like a halo behind her, she knew it, too.
I took a moment to admire my wife. Her skin had acquired a faint golden tan in a few days of sun, and the natural blonde highlights in her hair were brighter, giving her hair a very surfer-girl kind of look. Her stomach was flat when she was lying down, and the line of muscle of her thigh revealed that her workouts were paying off. She had one leg up, and the black fabric was snug against her bare pussy, a soft mound hinting at the shape of her cunt. It barely covered her breasts, and she had taken the straps down – though she was not quite brazen enough to take the whole top off.
Neha would have. She did it all the time.
I looked at an older man who was staring openly at her over the deck of his own boat.
I could see he wished Shweta would take it off.
“Stepping on,” I said loudly, though the boat was so big it barely shifted with my weight.
Shweta didn’t stir, other than to lift a hand above her and give me a faint wave.
I went to the deck and stood next to her, admiring the view, my hand on a shroud.
Shweta stretched out. “Oh, I was having the nicest daydream,” she murmured.
“Bad news,” I said, after letting a few perverse thoughts go through my head. “Wasim’s gotta get flown back to the India for a surgery.”
Shweta sat up. A light scarf she had placed on her face slid off. “What?” she said. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s a bad break,” I said. “Complicated.”
Shweta frowned. “Jeez. It was such a… what a crazy accident.” She frowned. “Poor Wasim. When is he leaving?”
“Soon as they get a med evac ready.”
“God,” Shweta said. She shook her head. Then she squinted up at me. “So… what’s he going to do about the boat?”
“Well, he said he has a temporary crew that can get it back to Male,” I said. I folded my arms over my chest. “Thing is, he’s asked me to go along.”
Shweta shrugged. “Can’t you just sail it back there?”
My wife. Still totally clueless about sailing.
I smiled. “I could. If everything went perfectly. But nothing ever does, and if anything breaks, this is impossible to sail solo.”
She frowned again. “This is really a bummer.”
I sat down next to her and picked up a foot. I started to massaged the high arch. “I don’t know,” I said. “I think we can find a way to have fun.”
She propped herself up on her elbows when she leaned back. Her bikini was peeling away from her nipples, and a thumbnail of her areola was peeking out from the top of the fabric. “Oh you do, do you?”
I pressed hard into the sole of her foot, and her eyelids dropped a little in pleasure.
“I do,” I said.
She reclined and spread her hair out behind her again.
“You better watch out,” I said. “There are a lot of men staring at you.”
Her jaw fell open, and she gave me such a serious look of shock that for a moment I thought she was serious. “There are?” she said. Then she fanned herself. “Well, I’ll be.”
I had no idea how to react to this, so I just sat there looking at her with what felt like a very stupid expression on my face. It was halfway between a smile and a look of concern for someone who has hit her head.
“Don’t you feel a little bad… or, should we feel bad about just… going on without him?” she said.
I shrugged. “Neha herself said he wouldn’t wait for us,” I said. “And apparently it was his last wish before they knocked him out with morphine to set the bone for travel.”
Shweta shook her head and grinned. “What a guy,” she said. Then she lifted her other foot so that I could massage it as well. “Well,” she murmured. “We might as well make the best of it.”
And indeed we would.

[Givemeextra]

1 request on Styling..


can you divide the posts into para's and leave some empty lines between para's .  Currently,  it is a long Paragraph

[samcuck2]

1 request on Styling..


can you divide the posts into para's and leave some empty lines between para's .  Currently,  it is a long Paragraph

Sure, I will try to do that from next update.

[samcuck2]

4: A NEW SKIPPER
“Mr. Sharma?” My stomach dropped through my groin as I looked at the man standing on the deck, who I knew, without introduction, was “Sahil” Khan. Neha had quickly contacted the crew who would come to assist us, and they were going to be there the next morning.
And here he was: Sahil.
He had his hand up over his eyes to shade them. Bulky muscle in the arms and calves on an athletic build, the stance of a seafarer, legs apart slightly, ready to move quickly. He was tall, impeccably dressed in an immaculately white sleeveless   tshirt and white shorts.
His body, beneath the tshirt, it seems like he was a fitness freak.
I dropped onto the dock, and he towered about a head over me. I’m a fairly tall guy – 6’0 – so this very, very handsome gentleman must have been about 6’6.”



I extended my hand. “I’m Piyush,” I said.
My hand was in his grip – a strong grip, one solid shake, and no weird shenanigans – as he pressed his lips together and then said, in a very light Arabian accent, “I’m Sahil Khan. Mr. Wasim sent me to get the boat back to Male.”
“Great,” I said.
In reality, my insides were doing catapults and cartwheels, and I couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything but the man’s enormous hands and his long, muscular limbs.
And what they would look like next to my wife’s skin.
But I kept it together.
“I thought you had -” “One more crew member, yes sir.” He pointed to the marina, where a man was approaching with a heavy container on his shoulder. This man was dark-skinned he was of my height, he was coal black , and he was dressed in the Black shirt and white shorts. “That’s Mr. Junaid Ansari.”



Sahil squinted at the boat. “May I come aboard?” he said. His English was fairly unnatural-sounding, so I suspected he didn’t actually speak it.
“Uh... yeah, yes, of course, let me just...” I hopped onto the boat. “Let me just tell my wife you’re here.”
I was looking at him as I said this, and maybe hoping to see some flicker of interest in his face.
But his countenance remained professional, scowling slightly into the bright sun. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said.
I nodded and dropped down through the hatchway, my heart pounding. “Shweta,” I said, hurrying to the state room, where Shweta was stepping into her bikini. “Baby, the crew is here.”
She pulled the bikini bottom up quickly over her hips, and looked up at the sunroof in alarm.
“They’re not on the boat yet,” I said. “They’re.. uh... just out there.”
Shweta was looking at me strangely. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.
“You okay?” she said. She squinted at me.
I scratched my head. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah... just...”
She made a strange face. “Okay... well...” she looked around and found a cover-up. She pulled it over head. “Let’s go... meet the new crew.”
I followed Shweta through the hatchway. Underneath my skin an excitement tingled, but there was also a strange nervousness, kind of like a first date.
I stood behind her as Shweta shook hands, first with Sahil, then with Junaid. I savored the sight of the man’s big paw enclosing her small hand, of the firm, veined muscle of his forearm, three times as thick as hers, as he gave her a gentle shake.
They were both wearing sunglasses, so it was impossible to see where their eyes were. But I noticed – or I thought I noticed – Shweta’s body shifting a little. She stood up straighter, she thrust out her breasts a little. She gave her hair a toss and she smiled brightly.
“Well… I… I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Can we… stay on the boat? Will I be in your way on the deck over there?”
Sahil paused for a moment, during which time I could only imagine that he was looking her up and down behind his sunglasses. “Oh,” he said. “Mr. Wasim told me you were going to be my first mate.”
And then a lick of his lips, and a smile.
Shweta opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t know how to sail, and then she got the joke and laughed appreciatively instead.
Arousal clawed at my lower abdomen. How appreciatively was she laughing? It seemed to me to be very appreciatively.
“Okay,” Shweta said. “Well… I’ll be over there if anyone needs me.”
And there was a pause, as the two of them looked at each other. A moment that was, deliciously, just a little too long.
My hopes soared.
My wife trotted away and stretched out on the striped lounge chair on the deck.
“You know what you’re doing, man?” Sahil said, turning to me.
Ah, the possibilities embedded in this question.
As much as I liked to pretend, Sahil really was just asking me about the boat. I nodded.
“Great, can you rig the sails? I’ve got to check the other things.”
He disappeared through the hatchway. Junaid was already at work on something aft. I looked at my wife on the deck, her lean body glowing in the sun. I wished I could ask her what she was thinking, or pry open her mind and find out if Sahil Khan had sent the kind of shivers through her body that I hoped he had.
In the beginning, though, it seemed like I was alone in my fantasy. Sahil was all business, and he was a solid sailor. In fact, he likely could have sailed the boat himself, and he certainly didn’t need both me and Junaid to run around trimming sails.
We sailed fastly, a short hop especially with the good wind. Shweta spent the day on the deck, flipping from her back to her stomach, reading a book and snoozing. She did not seem to be paying much attention to Sahil, and he didn’t seem to be paying her much attention either.
Disappointing.
I plopped down on the deck after a while.
Shweta lifted her sunglasses. “Hey there,” she said. “I thought you had to do sailor stuff all day.”
I squinted at the navigation area. “It’s all pretty automated. I’m just backup. I’m starting to think Wasim just wanted us to come along so we could finish our trip,” I said. “Anyway. You need sunscreen.”
I pressed on her leg and a white mark stained her thigh.
“Oh God,” she said. She dove under the lounge chair and retrieved a bottle of sunscreen.
She dumped it into her palm, and then she surprised me by letting out a sexual “Oh!” She fluttered her eyes up to me. “It’s so hot,”she said. “Feel it.”
I dipped my finger into the white cream, and indeed it was hot, which was very arousing for some reason I can’t explain.
Shweta started on her arms, rubbing the lotion over them. But then she made a real show of rubbing the creamy sunscreen into her chest. Her fingers dipped into her bikini, and she rubbed and rubbed the sunscreen into her skin.
Her hands were inside her bikini top, massaging her own tits, for far longer than it would have appeared to have taken her to rub the sunscreen in. She tilted her head back and ran one hand over her chest and up her throat.
She dropped her head and stretched her legs out. “Will you get my legs?” she said. “And my back? I really get so lazy about my legs.”
I stared at her. This was not, in any way, factually true. One, Shweta did not get lazy. Two, to my knowledge, she had never departed the planet of “Totally Insane and Anal Retentive About Sunscreen.”
Lastly, I had never been asked to “get her legs.”
So something was up.
She smeared the big glob of sunscreen into my palm, not waiting for my reply.
I started, happily, at her feet. I smeared the white cream along the length of her calf, and then I began massaging it in at the sole of her foot, then her ankle, then her calf. I moved up, my hands greasy and slippery on her toned thigh.
And all the while, I couldn’t help thinking – and hoping – that Sahil Khan was watching and enjoying the show. Hoping that the show was making him think about getting Shweta’s legs in his own hands.
And hoping that Shweta was thinking the same thing.
When my fingers reached the top of Shweta’s thigh, I slid my fingertips along the hem of the bikini, lightly enough that I gave her shivers. It was a little obscene for a semiprivate setting, but she didn’t move away.
I took it as an invitation to do more.
I didn’t look around to see where Sahil and Junaid were – I could only hope that they were watching.
My heart beat with the fear that any second, Shweta would jump or slap my hand away and tell me to stop. But as my fingers moved along the sweet, smooth inner crease of her thigh, she just parted her legs a little more, slowly.
I hooked my pointer finger under her suit, and tugged on it lightly. “I have to make sure I get under the straps,” I mumbled.
Shweta had to know that I was pulling her bikini away from her skin so much that someone would get a glimpse of her pussy if he was at the right angle. She had to know because I used my other hand to lewdly rub the sunscreen in all over her gash, my fingers moving all over her shaved cunt.
My cock was getting so hard thinking about how she was just lying there, letting me do this in full view of our crew, who were practically strangers.
Dark Strong and beautiful strangers.
I let her bikini snap back to her skin. She had a faint smile on her lips – faint and mysterious.
I traveled over her torso, rubbing the lotion in and under her bikini top the same way. My breath was shaking as I pictured the muscular captain looking out from the shaded navigation area to see my hands cupping my wife’s breasts in broad daylight. Under those white shorts, was his cock getting hard thinking about doing the same.
And how could I let him know it was okay by me?
Shweta’s nipples were hard under my palms, which only turned me on more.
Then she flipped over, and I began the whole delicious thing again. My fingers slipped through the crack of her bottom as I reached from both sides under the back of her bikini. I spent a great deal longer than necessary rubbing and rubbing the lotion into her skin, daydreaming that Sahil was watching.
Imagining that Shweta was hoping and dreaming about the same thing.
I slid my finger along her panties as I headed back down to her legs, and as I passed in the center of her bikini, I found that the center of her bottoms was damp. I brought my fingers to my nose to confirm that it wasn’t sunscreen. The sweet smell of Shweta’s excitement reached my nose long before my fingers got close.
“Hmm,” I said.
Ordinarily this was the kind of thing that would make Shweta roll her eyes at me or sit up suddenly and look around, scandalized.
Instead, she lifted her feet and kicked them playfully. “Hmm,” she said, imitating my tone. She turned her head away and rested it on her arms.
Hmm.
I looked around. It was a painfully bright day on the water: the sky was clear above us and the sun was strong and nearly above us in the sky. The white of Wasim’s spotless yacht glared. So it wasn’t difficult to find Sahil: his muscular body stood out against the mainsail. He was leaning against a shroud, his head turned slightly toward the nothingness in the water.
If he looked in our direction, he probably wouldn’t be able to see my hands, or anything but Shweta’s feet as they kicked back and forth.
Junaid doubtlessly had the wheel, which meant he wouldn’t see if…
I slid my fingers back up along the length of Shweta’s thigh. Under the fabric of her panties.
As my fingertips dipped into the hot moisture between her legs, exploring the softness of her pussy until I found her clit, I had to wonder what it was that had Shweta so hotted up.
I slid my finger along the face of her little button, and her kicking legs slowed, until finally she rested one heel nearly against her round bottom, and the other she extended behind her to the end of the chair.
I watched as her excitement built beneath her skin. Her pussy began to overflow onto my fingers, and her mouth opened with a little gasp. She raised her ass just a tiny bit as she neared her orgasm, but other than that she did not move.
When she came, she let out a little gasp and her whole body shook. The leg perched over her bottom jerked back and forth involuntarily, and I grabbed it and sucked her big toe into my mouth.
This was too much for her and she twisted beneath me, turning her head back and raising up on her arms. “Piyush!” she said.
As all of this was happening, I saw a shadow moving over the white edges of the deck, and then the teak deck area itself. Without looking up, I knew it was Sahil. I let Shweta’s toe go, and I very slowly slid my hand out from under her panties.
When I looked up, he was standing less than a few feet away, and he was looking right at us as though he had been looking all along. His face was calm and serious, and though I couldn’t be sure, I believed he had seen the very last of what I was doing to my wife.
So much the better.
Shweta whipped her head around when she became aware I was looking at something.
When she saw it was Sahil she sat up very quickly, pulling a towel up with her – looking, ultimately, much more guilty of doing something sexual than if she had just lain there.
“Sahil,” she said. “Hi. Are we… are we on track to get to the bay?”
I smiled beneath my calm expression. Was my wife… getting flustered? She was acting almost as though she had gotten caught.
“Everytin’ is on track. I’m coming to see if you want us to catch some fish for lunch.”
“Fish,” Shweta babbled. “Fish, yeah, fish sounds…” she turned her head to look at me, as though whether or not we should have fish was the most important question of the day. Sahil met my eye, and I couldn’t say what he was thinking, exactly. Shweta adjusted her towel again, laying it out on the lounge chair as if that’s what she had meant to do with it all along.
I could still smell her pussy. She had really soaked her bikini with her orgasm, and her scent was on my fingers.
“Fish sounds… good, I don’t know… what do you think?” She continued. She turned back to Sahil. “I.. do you have fishing poles, and stuff?”
Sahil smiled. “I’m going to catch them with my bare hands,” he said, swooping his big hands through the air and making a fist.
Shweta relaxed a little with the joke. “Right,” she said. She laughed at herself, and regained some of her composure. “Okay… well...”
“There’s a grill,” I offered helpfully, pointing at a storage box tucked under the seats on the deck.
“Great,” Sahil said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. His legs flexed as the boat heeled heavily, but he was such a seaman that he could reach casually for a shroud to steady himself. Shweta gripped the chair and I pushed against my feet.
Sahil called to Junaid and said something that sounded like Spanish, heading back to the cockpit.
I swatted Shweta playfully when the boat slowed and the heel subsided. “What was that?” I asked.
It’s important to note that my ordinary Shweta, the Shweta before this trip, would have been more embarrassed about herself (and probably wouldn’t have even acted like that).
But this Shweta spread her towel out and stretched out, face up, on the lounge chair, her sunglasses covering her eyes again. She had a little smile on her lips as she rolled her shoulders to get into a good place.
“I don’t know,” she said mysteriously.
There’s no point in explaining that I was hard as a rock at this point, and I wanted to take Shweta downstairs (or take Shweta right there on the lounge chair), but at the same time it was almost better having to sit there, unsatisfied, while Shweta sunbathed with that little smile on her face.
Sahil returned in about fifteen minutes and asked me if I was up for taking command of the boat while he took command of fishing.
“And what about you, Miss Shweta? You want to do some fishing?”
This was a no-brainer, but before he even finished his sentence, I could see where it was going. Shweta had flipped over onto her stomach again, and she was propped up on her arms now, her back arched so that she was a very statuesque succession of curves: round breasts against the lounge chair, sweeping back, the swell of her bottom. Her bikini, conveniently enough, had ridden up on one side, exposing nearly all of one of her buttocks, and there was no mistaking that Sahil’s eyes swept over it quickly.
Shweta, for the record, hates fishing and all sports, but fishing most of all. Or better stated, she had negative interest in fishing.
She slid her sunglasses from her eyes and let her feet kick playfully behind her as she “contemplated” the question.
“Yeah,” she said, and I felt a stab of pleasurable jealousy through my heart. “Sure, why not?”
Then she sat up, flipped her feet around in my direction, gave me a wink, and pulled her cover-up over her head.
Sahil gave me a smile. “Junaid is waiting for you to take over the boat,” he said.
And then he smiled broadly at my wife and they headed back to the aft deck, where he had some fishing poles set up.
I followed them to mid-deck, where the navigation area was. Junaid nodded at me, and handed me the wheel. He said something that I could not discern in Arabian but which I assumed was the standard line, which hardly mattered in a fully automated boat, and I nodded back.
Wasim’s boat was so automated – the sails could be operated from the navigation area – that really one person could, conceivably, pilot the ship himself, although it was inadvisable, with the various problems that could and almost always did arise with a sailboat. It wasn’t really my kind of sailing, any more than driving a huge automatic vehicle was my kind of driving, but it certainly was amazing.
My mind, though, was not on sailing for long. Before long, my neck began to itch just thinking of what was undoubtedly going on behind me, with my wife and Sahil.
I checked all the instruments and made sure we were well clear of any other boats. There were a few small boats portside, but they were motorized yachts and headed in the other direction as far as I could tell. We were a good distance from the shore of a small island.
I gave a glance behind me at the cockpit.
They had gotten right into it, and the sight was better than I expected: Shweta was holding a pole in one of the seats, between her legs, in a position that suggested exactly what I wanted it to suggest. She had both hands around it, and Sahil was close to her, one hand on her back, one hand on the pole with hers.
I savored the sight and looked back out the windscreen of the control room. I checked everything again: boats, heading, speed, depth of water. It wouldn’t do to wreck Wasim’s sailboat because I was watching a Arabian man go fishing with my wife.
When I turned back again, the scene had changed slightly.
To my delight, Sahil still had his hand on Shweta’s back. The other hand on the pole, and his mouth very close to her jawline as he explained something to her.
All in the name of sport.
Shweta was speaking now; I saw her jawline move and the profile of her face as she smiled.
They were remarkably close to each other, remarkably comfortable.
It would have been almost nothing for Sahil to take his hand and slide it up the pole between Shweta's legs. He could pretend his hand slipped, and slide it right up against the black triangle of bikini that covered her bare pussy.
He leaned closer to her. His muscled torso was against Shweta’s arm and part of her back now. She could surely feel the shape of his body against her, through his starched white tshirt.
I had to tear my eyes away to look back at what I was doing.
As I had been sitting there mesmerized by my wife and Sahil, a ship had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, starboard side. Another sailboat, coming closer.
I quickly made an announcement that we were tacking and started to set up the boat for a tack – no small feat with all the sails and the unfamiliar controls.
Junaid appeared at the starboard door. “Help?” he said. “And… Mr. Khan he say, you slow please.” He made the sign of a fishing rod being reeled.
“Uh...” I said. I beckoned Junaid into the control room to help me out.
I pretended to pay attention, while Junaid jabbered in Arabian about the controls, but I stood at an angle so that I could see out the back window of the room to what Sahil was doing with my wife.
Now they had a big fish, and the boat was slowing so they could reel it in. Sahil was standing behind Shweta, the full front of his body pressed against her backside, the whole length of my wife’s curves against him. His strong arms encircled her, and he was holding the pole with her, pulling it back, letting it out, so she could reel in whatever they had caught.
I saw the flapping fins of the fish, and then Sahil jerked it from the water. Shweta jumped, and he had to steady her as the big fish flopped onto the deck and she squealed and laughed and tried to get away from it.
In an epic display of masculinity, Sahil slid his arm around my wife, consoled her, and then pounced on the fish to hold it down as it flapped its huge body to its death out of water.
I watched, fascinated. My wife was definitely flirting with Sahil….



picture to url

The fish they had caught was a Wahoo, which didn’t mean a ton to me as I wasn’t much of a fisherman.
“It’s very good to eat,” Sahil assured us. “I can grill it up, and it will make a delicious meal.”
Shweta’s face was still flushed with excitement. “Oh, thank you, Sahil. I don’t.. have any idea how to.. you know, cook it.”
Within seconds Sahil had a knife out and he was slicing the fish up and tossing the guts into the water.
“Are we allowed to eat the fish here?” I said, and instantly regretted sounding like such a rule-abiding dork.
Sahil looked up at me, his big pocketknife embedded in the fish’s guts. He smiled. “This is the Maldives, Mr. Sharma. You can do whatever you want.” These final words weren’t necessarily sinister, but they were pregnant with possibility, and he looked over at Shweta with a smile after he said them. He grinned at the fish and continued to cut. “Go, you two, I’ll grill this up and bring it to you on the deck.”
“Thanks, Sahil,” Shweta gushed. She turned toward the deck, and then halted abruptly and, in a hum of nervous, adolescent-like activity, babbled: “Thanks again, that was, it is...that was so much fun!”
I started back toward the deck and Shweta followed me. When we were safely in the shadow of the control room I turned back to her. “So… that was some pretty athletic fishing,” I said.
“It was fun,” Shweta said, feigning innocence.
“Sahil is pretty strong,” I pressed.
Shweta slid onto a couch and stretched out. “He is,” she said, seductively.
She let this entrance me for a moment, but then she broke up into laughter. “Stop it,” she said. “That fish was really… strong.”
“I didn’t realize you were so into fishing.”
Shweta smiled and put a hand to her cheek. “I’m not into fishing,” she said coyly, and my cock twitched to life. Shweta smiled and put a scarf over her face as she relaxed in the sun, a few glistening drops of sweat between her breasts.
Sahil appeared with the grilled fish after about half an hour, making short work of gutting it and getting it grilled.
“Wait,” Shweta said, when he dropped off a steaming plate of the fish and Junaid deposited two plates and silverware on the table for us. “You’re not having some with us?” she said.
Sahil hooked his finger aft. “I thought we would eat in the cockpit,” he said. He smiled.
“Oh, no… you should eat with us,” Shweta said. “Yeah, yeah, have lunch with us, Sahil.”
Sahil looked unsure.
“I insist,” she said. She looked quickly to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “Please. Come and eat with us.”
“Okay,” Sahil said, still a little uncertain. “I’ll go and get some plates and our fish.”
Shweta and I exchanged looks once he left.
This was fun, this shared complicity with Shweta, but I couldn’t help feeling a little agonized by not knowing how seriously she was taking it. We’d had that conversation, after all, and so I knew Shweta was being game and flirting with Sahil to give me a little thrill.
But for some reason, this ached even more than if Shweta had outright rejected the idea. It was like I was going to have just a taste of what I wanted, and then have to endure the pain of never getting it.
Or was I? I couldn’t tell. Shweta was really taking things to a new level.
She looked over at me and arranged her hair, and then reached into her Bikini to arrange her breasts perfectly within the fabric. “How do I look?” she mouthed.
Sahil was already back, with the silent Junaid in tow. Shweta smiled at them – Sahil first, and scooted over on the couch and patted the seat. “Here, Sahil, you can sit by me.”
Sahil looked over at me for my reaction. The couch Shweta was on was a small two-seater, and this invite was definitely approaching the line of inappropriate.
I smiled at him and extended my hand in that direction. “Have a seat, man.”
He shrugged and did as we asked, and when he sat down Shweta made no effort to make more room for him. His heavy thigh was against her leg, and while his shorts came to mid-thigh, there was a large patch of his skin against hers. His muscled bicep was touching her arm.
It would have been so easy for him to put his hand on her knee. I imagined it there, covering her white thigh, slowly creeping up the length of her leg.
I leaned forward on my elbows to hide the mild erection I was getting.
“So, Sahil,” I said. “Do you do this kind of thing all the time?”
Fairly lame, but Sahil seemed to welcome the question. “You know, I make a very good living doing this? Mr. Wasim can sail his own boat but you’d be surprised how many guys come down here and have a boat they can’t sail, or they can’t sail in the bad weather. Sometimes I bring a boat from Europe, that kind of thing.”
“From Europe?” Shweta said, a little too breathlessly to be realistic. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
Sahil took this moment to break into Arabian, which he seemed to be very, very fluent in, to say something to Junaid, who laughed and made what sounded like a wry joke before digging into his fish. He was eating a bit like an animal, and now that he was seated next to me I was impressed by the full size of the man.
“Junaid says he only sailed hurricanes when he became a sailor,” Sahil said. “Crossing the ocean is nothing for him.”
“Still...” Shweta said. “Do you go to Europe while you’re there?”
“Oh yes,” Sahil said.
“I like the beaches,” he added with a smile.
“You have such an interesting life,” Shweta mused, either not picking up on or choosing to ignore the reference to topless beaches.
“How’d you become a sailor?” Shweta took a delicate nibble of her fish. “Oh wow,” she said, “this is so delicious.”
Sahil smiled at her. “Same way I became such a good cook.”
Shweta raised her eyes to get him to continue while she took another bite of fish, and I’m sure you may find it hard to believe that she was eating some grilled fish sexually, but that’s what she was doing.
Her white teeth were nibbling, bared, at the flesh of the fish like she wanted to tease it.
“I am a natural,” Sahil said, and he lowered his eyes just a little, along with his voice. Shweta’s chest rose and fell with her attempts to hide her excitement.
There was a very heavy moment between the two of them before he broke it up with a little laugh, and started in on his fish.
The two of them were done in almost no time, and Sahil clapped his hands together. “Well, we have to get sailing again if we want to get to port.”
I stood up.
“It’s all right, Mr. Sharma, you relax with your wife.”
There was a very short pause, while his eyes went back and forth from me to Shweta.
“Maybe take a nap,” he said, smiling.
But there was no doubt in my mind what he was insinuating.

[Givemeextra]

1 req : Pls Split into Para's. You had started styling fine but then again long complete Para. Thanks


General:
Pls don't lead into sex now itself. Let them have enjoyment (dance party kind of, double meaning sentences etc) where there can be more seductions/interactions

Let hubby made jealous/frustration of wifey enjoying --> always being disturbed by other guy when checking up wifey's actions, made to do low level labor work while wifey enjoys high position as vice captain on deck..

Slowly and steadily, sex can come in.

[swisssnow]

Good writing, sir. Amazing descriptions and highly arousing. Feeling so lusty for Shweta right now

[samcuck2]

I will post one chapter tonight and remaining two chapters tomorrow and finish the story.

[swisssnow]

I will post one chapter tonight and remaining two chapters tomorrow and finish the story.

Bhai, hope you write another story after that. You write so well, and your stories have such memorable characters. Keep writing more and keep posting... We appreciate all every update you've made so far<3

[Rocky Rakesh]

So hotttt

[samcuck2]

5: DRY RUN
I decided Sahil had a good idea, though. I devoured my fish (it was really very good) and then I grabbed the plates and invited Shweta to a “nap.” She smiled, uncrossed her legs, and led the way.
“What’s up with you?” Shweta said, throwing herself onto the bed and reaching for something on the shelves at the head of it.
Her swimsuit cover rode up and over her ass, revealing the pleasant shape of her ass in the slightly twisted bottoms. She turned on her side, holding a clock in her hand that she started to set.
“What’s up with me?” I said, smiling. “What’s up with you?”
Shweta smiled. “Whatever do you mean?”
I checked the door to make sure it was locked. I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.” I raised my voice an octave and batted my eyelashes. “‘Oh, Sahil, it must be so interesting traveling all over the world,’ ‘Oh, Sahil, why don’t you eat with us?’ ‘Oh, Sahil, it must be so dangerous!’”
I smiled to let her know it was... mostly okay with me.
Shweta rolled her eyes.
“He is good-looking, though,” she said, finally.
My cock, which had been inflating at a slow and steady pace all evening, sort of aching in that half-aroused state, came to full attention.
“Oh, he is, is he?” I said. Shweta let the clock fall between her legs. Her hand was resting on her thigh. I don’t believe she meant to do something so erotic at that moment, and I scarcely know why it was so erotic, but it was. She had her hand in a fist and she was resting it right between her legs, which had fallen open, almost butterflied.
“Is he good looking in a way that is better left to the imagination, like... hmm... anal sex? Or is he good-looking in a real way?” I said.
For a moment, I could see all kind of things were going through Shweta’s mind. A faint smile turned her upper lip slightly into a smile, and her eyes seemed to get glazed.
She gave her shoulders a teasing, slight shrug. “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice was quiet, and she looked down at the clock.
Things had suddenly gotten quite serious.
I climbed onto the bed and straddled her, pushing her knees down and her legs through my own. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” I said. Absently, I placed a hand on her stomach and trailed it down, over the bikini-bottom, and right between her legs, where, unmistakably, my fingers felt the sticky wetness of her excited cunt.
“You ever been with a Mu***m man?” I asked.
I pushed my thumb against her clit, which was hard enough that I could feel it through her bikini. Her mouth opened a little, and her eyes looked wild and alarmed. “I... no. You know I haven’t.”
She said "you know that it is a taboo in our religion and I was a virgin before I met u."
But there it was: the tell-tale flush that crept down her lower cheek, a spread of dilating capillaries that told me the truth I wanted to know: was this line of thinking making her flustered?
“But you’ve thought about it,” I said. “Surely?”
I slid my thumb along the hem of her bikini bottom, right between her legs, following the line of with a feathery touch. There was no mistaking the honeyed scent coming from between her legs, or the wetness of the fabric as it grazed my knuckles.
“I...” she started to protest.
“You have,” I said. “I feel pretty sure of it.” I slid my finger under the fabric and into the wet mess of her flooding cunt.
I decided to go for it.
“In fact, I feel pretty sure that you’ve given some thought to our very own captain,” I suggested.
Shweta’s eyes dilated, definitively. She looked scandalized, unsure of what to do. But her body was responding to my touch in quite a different way – much more assured.
I began to stroke her clit, like I had on the deck.
“Piyush,” she said, in a whisper. “I don’t think… I don’t know...” Her face was pleading with me, almost like I was torturing some secret from her, but she was pushing her hips toward me, whether she knew it or not.
“He’s a really good-looking guy,” I said. “You said so yourself. So I can understand how you might think about him...” My fingers were closing on her clit now, pinching out the bundle of nerves that would make her squirm.
I had a trick that I hadn’t used in a long time, of squeezing her most sensitive skin from the hood of her clit and rubbing the back of my fingernail over it until she started shaking because the pleasure was too intense.
Shweta shuddered underneath me and she gasped. I held her down with the weight of my body. “Maybe you were thinking about him earlier? Maybe you were hoping he was watching you on the deck?” Shweta’s eyes went wide with alarm, which I took as confirmation.
My cock was practically exploding now. I had gone from mildly aroused to blue-balls aching all afternoon, and now that I finally had her here, admitting (more or less) to daydreaming about the strong, athletic captain, I could hardly keep it together.
“Were you thinking about his cock?” I said, and I felt Shweta’s body stiffen. She turned her head slightly, averting her eyes and chewing a little on her lip. Her cheeks were flushed, but I wasn’t sure if that was out of embarrassment or because I was bringing her close to the edge.
I stopped what I was doing, and felt a ripple of disappointment go through her – she had been very close. I tugged at her bikini bottoms, pulling them down like they were panties.
I used my fingers to pry her open, and I slid my cock inside of her. “Were you thinking about him getting his big cock inside of you?”
I myself was nearly over the edge, but it surprised the hell out of me that these words, along with my cock in her pussy, sent Shweta immediately into a climax. I think it even surprised her.
The idea made its way through her mind, I could see, very quickly: Sahil’s veined, thick cock, and the way it would feel inside of her, against her aching clit from the inside out.
Shweta mewled, and closed her eyes, and her pussy throbbed around me, just before I came inside of her.
Shweta was the first to laugh, pressing her hand against my chest. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “We’re… I can’t believe we’re...” She made another laughing noise.
“We’re like teenagers,” I said, rolling off of her and lying against her side.
Shweta looked at me. She turned to face me. Her expression changed from one of light laughter to slight guilt. “Um,” she said. “I… I was just saying all that because, you know… you seemed turned on by it.”
I propped my head up on my hand. “Too bad,” I said. “I was hoping it was real.”
Shweta gave a sharp laugh, like I had just told a joke. But it quieted down as she kept looking at me, and started to realize I was serious.
“Not really,” she said, her voice much lower than before.
I touched her mouth. “I don’t know. It seems like you’re really turned on by it. Like you’re… more than just curious.”
Shweta’s mouth opened. “And you… what? Are you serious? You don’t mind?”
I put my hand to my forehead and rolled onto to my back. “It’s not that I don’t care. I just… I don’t mind the idea so much...” I sat up and faced her again. “No, scratch that, I think it’s a very hot idea. I like the idea very much.”
Shweta stared at me.
“Of me… having… sex? With a…?” She looked up, and for a moment I was worried that the moment was going to be ruined by her pointing at the ceiling and making me laugh. “With another man? Actually?”
Her tone was disbelieving, but not as shocked as I might have expected it to be.
I moved my shoulders in an acquiescent shrug. “To me it’s really hot. It seems like you’ve been really turned on by it, too. Here, I mean.”
Shweta’s mouth was still open.
“But you’re…” she stopped herself. She rubbed her eye. She sniffed. Her eyes dropped to the bed.
“Am I serious?” I said, finishing her sentence for her, because she could not.
There was a tense moment of silence. On the one hand, I didn’t want to say something here that I might regret: I still wasn’t 100% how Shweta would react.
“I think I am,” I said. “But,” I said quickly, to calm Shweta down, because her mouth was opening in an expression of shock, “I’m only serious if, you know, it’s something you’re into actually trying.”
Shweta’s mouth snapped shut. She played with the fabric of the comforter. “For real,” she said.
I nodded.
Shweta sighed and looked at the wall.
Then she laughed, nervously. She put her hands to her head. Then she shook her head.
“I… no. No, this is too crazy. I mean...”
She looked at me. “Are we actually having this discussion?” she said.
We stared at each other, because we both knew the answer to that question.
“Wouldn’t you get jealous?” she asked, finally.
I thought about this for a moment. “Yeah, I… of course -”
“Because it doesn’t seem like Wasim gets jealous,” she said.
“Or like, that friend of theirs.” She looked back at me. “I don’t know. I feel like I would get jealous.”
I took her hand. “The thing is, you know… these are two different things. Those guys are swingers.”
Shweta looked at me. “Yea-ha,” she said, like I was an idiot.
“That’s… not really what I’m into.”
She folded her arms. “You just want me to do it?”
I nodded. “And you wouldn’t get jealous? Or weirded out?”
I paused. “I would. It’s… that’s kind of the thing.”
Shweta looked at me. I could tell she was getting excited. Her breath was rapid, her eyes were dilated. She wanted this. I could tell.
“How about we say, we’ll try it. One time, with one person?” I said.
I knew I had to take control, make the decision, give her a little push. The kind of push where she still felt like she had a say, but where I was also the one responsible for the idea.
After this long marriage, I knew this was the best tactic with her.
“Just one person,” she said. Excitement lurked in her eyes. “With Sahil?”
I smiled as I shrugged, trying to suppress my excitement. “He’s here,” I said, and I worried that my quivering voice would give away that my heart was kicking its way through my chest. “And you’re attracted to him.”
Shweta started to protest, but then she changed her mind. She smiled, blushed a little, and tapped her fingers on her arm.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay… okay, we could try it.”
I stared at her.
“No. No, this is too crazy,” she said.
I reached out and touched her. “It’s not,” I said. “People do it all the time.”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Trust me,” I said. “This would be… this would make me really happy. And… there’s no denying that you’re just a little bit curious… right?”
She shrugged, but her lips also had the same quiver of excitement as my voice.
“So let’s try it.”
She bit her lip.
And then she said the magic word:
“Okay.”
That night I woke up out of a lovely sleep, a very deep one, with the sort of start you have when you have a terrible dream. I sat up, a little disoriented about where I was, thinking I was at home and not finding any of the contours of the dark walls to match where I envisioned myself.
The confusion drained away quickly, as did any memory of the dream, and I slid a hand out to the side to find Shweta’s warm body and enjoy a feel of her soft bottom.
But my hand slid over cool sheets and nothing else.
I looked over at her side of the bed and had another little jolt of panic.
Of course, I thought, lying back down, she was only in the bathroom. Shweta had a lot to drink and she probably felt like I did only worse – a little unsettled and groggy – but also, she probably had to pee.
I closed my eyes, and I started to drift off, expecting Shweta any second, looking forward to feeling her body, toying with the idea of starting something in the middle of the night – why not?
And then I opened my eyes.
A lot of time had gone by, and Shweta still wasn’t back.
I sat up again, listening to the sounds of the boat.
The door-handle turned, and I reclined so that I was lying down with my head on the pillow, an eye on the door. I watched as Shweta crept into the room and tiptoed to bed.
She was so focused on being quiet that she looked at her feet, her eyes wide with that unused-to-the-dark kind of look. When she finally looked at the bed, she practically jumped.
She threw her hand against her chest. “Oh! Piyush! OMG!” she said. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers around her. “Why are you staring at me in the dark like a creep?” she whispered.
I rolled toward her and put my head on my hand. “And where have you been?” I said.
I said it suggestively, and I only partly even imagined that there was anything to suggest, but I was thinking that Shweta might have been up to no good, alone on the boat, wandering around at night.
Shweta lay down, and she closed her eyes. That same smile from the deck quivered on her upper lip. “Oh, just… I couldn’t sleep. So I went above deck.”
“Oh yeah?” I said. “And?”
I fully expected Shweta to tell me to go to sleep.
Instead she turned toward me. “I ran into Sahil,” she said in a whisper. “He couldn't sleep either.”
My cock was throbbing to life.
“No?” I said.
Shweta shook her head. “And so, at first we just talked. And then… you know, since we had that talk, I thought I’d see how far I could take things.”
I stared at her.
“So I reached out my hand and put it on his arm, like this,” she said.
She dropped her eyes. She rubbed my bicep sensually.
‘And?” I prompted.
She fluttered her eyes back up at me. “Promise you won’t be mad,” she whispered.
My heart leaped. “You said it was okay,” she continued.
Now she actually looked nervous, and my own body was flying. Was she serious?
What had she done?
She waited, and her lips trembled like she was going to say something, but no words came out.
I put my finger on her lips. My senses were on high alert now, seeking the scent of her, scrutinizing her face for traces of wetness, or having been messed up when she sucked on another man’s cock.
“What did you do?” I said, my voice trembling. “Tell me, it’s okay.”
“One thing led to another...” Shweta said. “He kissed me, and then he took my hand and put it on his cock.”
An electric ripple traveled down my spine.
“So I… you know… he asked me if I wanted a taste,” Shweta said.
I sucked in my breath.
She looked at me. “Are you mad?”
I took her hand and guided it to my cock, in order to most easily explain what I was feeling. “I’m… why didn’t you wake me up?” I said.
Shweta squeezed my cock. “There was no time, and I thought… you said you wanted this...”
My cock throbbed in her hand.
Shweta’s face changed suddenly and she leaned back, looking at my face. “Are you really okay with that?” she said.
My head spun.
Shweta smiled, leaning toward me. “I didn’t really,” she said.
“Huh?”
She slid down my torso, under the sheets. I lifted them to see her better, and she shrugged them away. She had my cock in her hand and she was placing it against her lips. “I didn’t do any of that,” she said. “Or anything like this.” She licked the crown of my cock, making a circle around the ridge between the shaft and the head.
My balls throbbed. My head was spinning. “What?” I said, stupidly.
Shweta smiled. “I was just sort of… checking. You know, that you mean what you say.”
“You didn’t touch his cock?” I said.
Shweta shook her head. “Not yet.”
Then she took me into her mouth, and kept her eyes on mine as she swallowed the length of my shaft. She gave me the most incredible blowjob she had ever given me, and it was over far too soon because I was so wound up. She even swallowed my cum and licked me clean before rising up to her knees and smiling at me.
She stretched out beside me.
“Wow,” I said finally. “You… had me going there.”
Shweta gave a giggle. “I know,” she said.
A silence filled the room. Then she turned her head to look up at me. “Do we really want to do this thing?” she said. “You really want to?”
I touched her lips. “I do, if you do.”
She settled back on my chest.
There was a long pause while my heart jumped wildly.
“Let’s do it tomorrow,” Shweta said. And that was it. That’s how my wife decided to take the plunge.

[Givemeextra]

Bhai, hope you write another story after that. You write so well, and your stories have such memorable characters. Keep writing more and keep posting... We appreciate all every update you've made so far<3

+1

Agree 100%. Must not stop writing another one after this completes....Many adventures exist for a hotwife....