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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
21/06/2021
In November of 2019, my husband posted a story here in which he described an evening when, with his encouragement, he watched a mutual friend Sam seduce me in our hot tub while he and Sam’s girlfriend watched. His description was essentially accurate. Yes, I had been a virgin when I married Kenneth, yes, we had been drinking that night, and when Sam offered to give me a massage, I wasn’t keen on it, but Kenny cajoled me, and I agreed.
We had the jets going full blast. As Sam’s strong hands worked his way down my back, it felt wonderful, and he started taking liberties below the churning waters, a quick brush across my nipples, then kneading my thighs, until he slowly and subtly inched down between my legs, but I’m not going to describe the incident because Kenneth already has.
However, there is one aspect of Kenneth’s narrative that is inaccurate. He thought that he was witnessing the first time I had ever had sex with someone beside himself. That is not the case because a few months earlier, I had cheated with a perfect stranger. I’m going to tell how that happened knowing that Kenneth will discover it for the first time here. He loves this site, visits it daily, and because I asked him not to post the story and he did anyway, this is my revenge.
We live in the Chesapeake Bay area, and a friend of mine Mary Beth had won in a charity auction a three-hour cruise around the Bay on a yacht. Mary Beth invited me and three other women, and there was a three-man crew. Before we took off, the captain, Tom, gave us a tour of the boat, including below deck where there was a restroom, kitchenette, and two beds.
Because it was a blistering hot day, I had worn a gauzy cotton top, and because I’m rather flat-chested, an A cup, I rarely wear a bra when I’m not at work. What I didn’t realize, but which Kenneth chastised me for when I got home, is that at certain angles in certain lights, you can see right through the fabric, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination.
No wonder Tom kept furtively glancing away when I caught him looking at me. Eventually, after an hour or so and a couple of pina coladas, I went below to the toilet. I sat there for a while after I finished peeing, flipping through a magazine. When I pushed back the bolt of the door, I found Tom standing outside. Tall and good looking, he was maybe five or so years younger than me, in his mid-thirties.
“Oh, Hi,” I said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem,” he said, and as I turned sideways to sidle past him, he grabbed me around the waist, pulled me towards him, and kissed me.
I let him, figuring, why not, it’s sort of exciting and relatively harmless, but then he slipped me his tongue, and as he did so, I felt his hand on the outside of my flimsy top, and immediately my nipples ripened into knots.
Pulling back, he said, “I need a better look,” and raised my top, exposing my right breast.
“Hey, Tom. This has gone far enough,” I said, but he backed me to one of the beds, where I plopped down sitting. He pulled the top over my head, and I momentarily resisted, but then let him, afraid he was going to tear the thin fabric. He pushed me prone on my back and started kissing my stomach, working his way to my nipples, cupping my breasts in both of his hands, his tongue darting from nipple to nipple.
“They’re going to wonder where we are,” I said, pushing him off and sitting back up, wearing only in my denim cutoffs.
“Shhhh,” he said, unsnapping them and placing his hand over my mound as I fell again on my back. He resumed sucking my nipples, harder now.
The next thing I knew we has pulling down my cutoffs and my panties as a unit, removing his dick from his pants, which was, compared to Kenneth’s, huge.
He put his finger into me, and discovering how wet I was, didn’t waste any time. He guided his penis to my clit and stimulated it by brushing the head against it, moving it in circles. I came almost immediately. As I tried to stifle my moans, he entered me slowly, plumbing depths that I had never felt in Kenneth’s lovemaking.
He was gentle at first until he knew that he wasn’t hurting me.
I started coming again, and putting his hand over my mouth to stifle my squeals, he thrust, only three or four times, and exploded inside me, filling me with his chi, and I came again for the third time.
“Sorry that was so quick,” he said, pulling out of me, “but you better go up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He leaned over, handed me some tissues to take care of the cum dripping out of me, and headed into the restroom without so much as a thank you kiss.
So I climbed back on deck, sort of dizzy, and pretended that nothing had happened. The girls didn’t seem suspicious, and the yacht bounced on across the bumpy waters of the bay. It had been quite a day, and although I was tempted to tell Kenneth, I thought better of it ¬– until now!
We had the jets going full blast. As Sam’s strong hands worked his way down my back, it felt wonderful, and he started taking liberties below the churning waters, a quick brush across my nipples, then kneading my thighs, until he slowly and subtly inched down between my legs, but I’m not going to describe the incident because Kenneth already has.
However, there is one aspect of Kenneth’s narrative that is inaccurate. He thought that he was witnessing the first time I had ever had sex with someone beside himself. That is not the case because a few months earlier, I had cheated with a perfect stranger. I’m going to tell how that happened knowing that Kenneth will discover it for the first time here. He loves this site, visits it daily, and because I asked him not to post the story and he did anyway, this is my revenge.
We live in the Chesapeake Bay area, and a friend of mine Mary Beth had won in a charity auction a three-hour cruise around the Bay on a yacht. Mary Beth invited me and three other women, and there was a three-man crew. Before we took off, the captain, Tom, gave us a tour of the boat, including below deck where there was a restroom, kitchenette, and two beds.
Because it was a blistering hot day, I had worn a gauzy cotton top, and because I’m rather flat-chested, an A cup, I rarely wear a bra when I’m not at work. What I didn’t realize, but which Kenneth chastised me for when I got home, is that at certain angles in certain lights, you can see right through the fabric, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination.
No wonder Tom kept furtively glancing away when I caught him looking at me. Eventually, after an hour or so and a couple of pina coladas, I went below to the toilet. I sat there for a while after I finished peeing, flipping through a magazine. When I pushed back the bolt of the door, I found Tom standing outside. Tall and good looking, he was maybe five or so years younger than me, in his mid-thirties.
“Oh, Hi,” I said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem,” he said, and as I turned sideways to sidle past him, he grabbed me around the waist, pulled me towards him, and kissed me.
I let him, figuring, why not, it’s sort of exciting and relatively harmless, but then he slipped me his tongue, and as he did so, I felt his hand on the outside of my flimsy top, and immediately my nipples ripened into knots.
Pulling back, he said, “I need a better look,” and raised my top, exposing my right breast.
“Hey, Tom. This has gone far enough,” I said, but he backed me to one of the beds, where I plopped down sitting. He pulled the top over my head, and I momentarily resisted, but then let him, afraid he was going to tear the thin fabric. He pushed me prone on my back and started kissing my stomach, working his way to my nipples, cupping my breasts in both of his hands, his tongue darting from nipple to nipple.
“They’re going to wonder where we are,” I said, pushing him off and sitting back up, wearing only in my denim cutoffs.
“Shhhh,” he said, unsnapping them and placing his hand over my mound as I fell again on my back. He resumed sucking my nipples, harder now.
The next thing I knew we has pulling down my cutoffs and my panties as a unit, removing his dick from his pants, which was, compared to Kenneth’s, huge.
He put his finger into me, and discovering how wet I was, didn’t waste any time. He guided his penis to my clit and stimulated it by brushing the head against it, moving it in circles. I came almost immediately. As I tried to stifle my moans, he entered me slowly, plumbing depths that I had never felt in Kenneth’s lovemaking.
He was gentle at first until he knew that he wasn’t hurting me.
I started coming again, and putting his hand over my mouth to stifle my squeals, he thrust, only three or four times, and exploded inside me, filling me with his chi, and I came again for the third time.
“Sorry that was so quick,” he said, pulling out of me, “but you better go up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He leaned over, handed me some tissues to take care of the cum dripping out of me, and headed into the restroom without so much as a thank you kiss.
So I climbed back on deck, sort of dizzy, and pretended that nothing had happened. The girls didn’t seem suspicious, and the yacht bounced on across the bumpy waters of the bay. It had been quite a day, and although I was tempted to tell Kenneth, I thought better of it ¬– until now!
Poster:
Clare Stephenson
