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Message-ID: <36067asstr$1018559403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: walt9899@hotmail.com (walt9899)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 11 Apr 2002 17:37:25 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Sharing Hannah (MFM)
Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2002 17:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

STANDARD DISCLAIMER:
This story contains graphic depictions of sex between consenting
adults.  If you are under eighteen years of age you must stop reading
now.  Stop, I said.  Stop!

Now that I am addressing an audience consisting of only mature,
responsible persons over eighteen years of age:

This story and all its characters are a work of adult fantasy.  They
live in a world where sex is free of disease and unwanted pregnancies,
and, when convenient, free of the deeper emotional complications that
accompany it.  The characters happily invite you into their world
while you read the story but ask also that you please remember to
return to your own world when you are finished.

RESPONSIBLE USE POLICY
Please enjoy this story responsibly.  Share it with someone if it will
make that person happy.  Don't use it to do anything hurtful.  Don't
chase happiness; be joyful instead.

FEEDBACK:
Did you like this story?  Was it worth the time you spent reading it? 
Did it stink?  The author appreciates any feedback you may have to
share about this story.  Send e-mail to walt9899@hotmail.com.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

************************************



SHARING HANNAH (MFM)


My wife and I had been married about five years when we decided one
sleet-filled February that we had to get to the Caribbean.  Fast.  We
both had plenty of vacation at work, and with a little arranging found
a few days we could pad around a weekend to make a five-day trip.  Two
weeks later we were boarding a flight for the islands.  I hardly cared
where we went, but my wife had found a nice package that included
airfare and accommodations at a nice--not luxurious--seaside resort.

Hannah loves to sit on the beach all day.  I'm fine lounging for an
hour or two, but then I need a change of scenery.  We'd been to the
islands a few times in the past, and we knew how to get the most out
of our time.  Hannah and I will hit the beach for a few hours in the
morning, and for the afternoon I'll book myself into snorkeling trips,
fishing trips, parasailing, a golf game, you name it.  Hannah will
stay on the beach.  Late in the afternoon we rendezvous to freshen up
for the evening and then go for cocktails, dinner, maybe dancing if we
feel like it.  When we're on vacation, we move into a different mode. 
We don't check in at work, we don't worry about all the crap waiting
for us next week or next month at home.  We just relax, turn over a
new page, and delight ourselves.  We reconnect.  I mean this in an
emotional and mental sense because even though we enjoy different
activities for a few hours each day we still spend most of the time
with each other talking, laughing, remembering all the reasons why we
are so attached and attracted to each other.  We also reconnect
sexually.  Now, Hannah and I have a nice normal sex life at home, but
on vacation, with long nights and leisurely mornings and idle times in
the day, we find much more opportunity to play with each other.  It's
not uncommon for entire days to pass suffused with an ambient
eroticism.  Sometimes when we're in such a heightened mood we'll play
a game with the strangers we see around us.  It's a simple foreplay
game we call, "Who would you sleep with?"  Not the most original game,
I'm sure, but a lot of fun when we're both in the right mood.  When
we're in a public place she picks a guy and tells me what she likes
about him.  We'll make up a name for him, a history, a story about
what he says when he comes over to her, how they talk, flirt, maybe
touch a little--all the things people do when they're deciding to go
home together.  When we get home we take turns telling each other the
rest of the story, the first time they touch, who kisses whom, how he
touches her, where he kisses her, and on and on.  As we take turns
telling each bit we play the parts, she the young wife taking another
lover, me the stranger she met earlier.  We fuck like the story says
they would, fast or slow, hard or soft, missionary or from behind or
sometimes her on top.  Hannah likes the stories to end up with them
fucking fast and hard because that's the way Hannah likes it.  She's
tender and loving and willing to tease and be brought along slowly,
but when the sex heats up she can't help herself.  It's one of the
things I love about her.  One of her charms.

We flew out early in the morning in a thirty-three degree rain and
touched down four hours later in seventy-eight degree sunshine.  We
boarded an island hopper for the short flight to the island where we'd
be staying.  Our hotel was situated on the top of a rocky rise
overlooking an azure lagoon rimmed by a crescent-moon beach of
sugar-white sand.  It was our first pleasant surprise, that this
unassuming resort was situated in such a breathtaking setting.  Then,
upon check in, the clerk informed us that the standard class room we'd
reserved was all booked up and gave us a complimentary upgrade to a
small suite that had a separate small sitting area outside the
bedroom.  We couldn't have been happier so far.  The balcony off the
sitting area looked down probably a hundred feet to the beach.  There
was always a gusty and refreshing breeze blowing up the cliff face. 
After briefly depositing our things we grabbed a bite to eat and
headed for the beach.  Hannah is five-four and a hundred and
twenty-five pounds, with shoulder-length brown hair.  She has a
shapely, athletic build, with broad shoulders and strong thighs. 
She's wonderfully sculpted, all woman, with gently rounded hips and
B-cup breasts that hold their shape even when her bra is off.  She
wears a bikini well, especially with a tan, which she already had
courtesy of the tanning booth she'd hit a couple of times before we
left.  She was the kind of woman the men on the beach didn't
necessarily seek out to look at, but when they spotted her they found
a lot of reasons to keep looking.  I knew they looked at her.  She
knew they looked at her.  Neither of us minded.  I had brought a
digital camera and snapped a few photos of her as she relaxed in the
sun.

We lay together on the beach for a while, having a drink and letting
the sun massage the winter from our bones.  Hannah had brought beach
books.  She's a voracious reader, and after a while I dozed and she
read and when I woke up she was dozing.  Like I said, I can only sit
on the beach for so long and I patted her shapely bottom and whispered
that I was going to explore the resort and I'd meet her back in the
room to get ready for dinner.  I hiked back up the steps to the main
resort area and strolled among the gardens and courtyards.  There were
several bars and grills situated along the cliffs, and the main
restaurant had tables on a large terrace that had 360-degree views.  I
thought the sunset would be beautiful and made dinner reservations,
and then I looked into activities and made some reservations, a
fishing trip, snorkeling, a round of golf.  When I returned to the
room Hannah was already there, in the shower.  The resort had supplied
us with white terrycloth bathrobes and when she was done she wrapped
herself in one and joined me on the balcony.  I kissed her.  She
tasted fresh and wet from the shower.  I sucked some of the moisture
off her neck.  She leaned into me.  I untied the sash of her robe and
her naked front was pressed against me as we kissed.

"We're kind of in public," she said between kisses.

I knew she didn't really care.  She was a charming, confident woman
and I'd always suspected that given the right anonymous circumstances
she could be something of an exhibitionist.  But I didn't have time to
explore any of those possibilities at the moment.  "We kind of have
reservations soon," I said.

"How soon?" she whispered into my ear even though there was no one
around to eavesdrop.

"Seven."

She kissed me one more time and then swatted my butt.  "You need to
get in the shower," she said, retying her robe.

"I was afraid you'd say that," I said in my best hangdog, but I went
off to the shower.

Hannah dressed in a ravishing backless dress and ate a finely flaked
grouper for dinner.  I had the day's shellfish, which were mussels in
lemon butter sauce, and we split a bottle of sauvignon blanc.  The sun
set red and purple and pink behind some streaks of clouds on the
horizon.  I took a few more photos of her, silhouetted in black
against the melon-ripe light rising from the water.  By the time we
were finished with food and wine and the sunset Hannah was ready to
dance at one of the after-dinner bars.

The music was lively, alternating between up-tempo reggae and more
electronic American dance music.  Hannah and I danced a few songs and
found a table for a drink.  We sat close, enjoying touch, taking in
all the other people at the bar.  Making out just a bit before dinner
combined with the beautiful warm surroundings was touching us both
with sexuality.  After a few minutes I asked her the question.  "So,
who would you sleep with?"

"Let's dance," she said, grabbing me up for a few more songs.  Hannah
loved to dance.  I loved to dance with her.  Just watching her dance
made me feel like a better dancer.  When we sat down again, really
thirsty this time, we ordered beers and she answered the question I'd
asked before this last round of dancing.  "That guy," pointing at a
man standing at the bar drinking a beer.

"Why?" I asked.

"He's great looking, but somehow he doesn't know how good-looking he
is, which is charming."

He was tall.  Probably six-two, with very black and very wavy hair and
strong facial features.  That's about all I could see of him from this
distance, aside from the fact that he dressed very sharply but
conservatively, in a linen shirt and khaki shorts and leather loafers.

We stayed a while longer and he never left the bar, nursing a couple
of beers and just watching everyone.  As we left we walked near him
and Hannah said hello to him.  He looked surprised and said, "Oh, hi,"
as we passed.  He smiled bashfully at her, but I had time to glimpse
his mouth of perfect white teeth and the piercing blueness of his
eyes.  He was very handsome.

Later on Hannah wore a simple cotton camisole to bed and as she came
into my arms I continued the game.  "Tell me about him," I said.

"His name is Mark," she said, snuggling herself against me.  "He's a
computer programmer and he's here alone."

"Why would he go on vacation alone?" I asked.

"All kinds of reasons," she said, "but he's not on vacation.  He's
doing a consulting job for the resort."

"Tough job," I said.  "Where do I apply?"

"He travels all the time," she said.  "He's lonely.  Doesn't have
anybody to go home to."

"Is he looking for someone?" I asked.

"He's always looking, but he's awfully shy, you see.  He's not the
singles bar type, but that's always where he seems to find himself
when he's traveling."  She was saying this as I ran my fingers through
her fine brown hair and massaged her neck.

"So you have to make the first move," I suggested, finding a
delectable part of her neck and biting it lightly.

"Maybe that's right," she sighed.

"If I was that guy," I continued, "I might be waiting for you to ask
me to dance."

"Fast or slow?" asked Hannah as I kissed around to the front of her
neck, fighting the neckline of her camisole with my tongue.

"Fast at first, enough to need a drink, and then a slow song.  You
have to lead him back out to the dance floor by the hand."

"He's not really interested?" she asked, pouting.

"On the contrary.  He wants you very badly.  But like you said, he's
shy."

"Oh, yeah," she said as I stripped the camisole off over her head,
leaving her naked except for the lace underwear she'd worn to bed.

We took turns, telling each other how it unfolded, how they danced,
she pressing herself against him, taking the lead, inviting him back
to her room for a drink, sitting on his knee and kissing him, how she
stood in front of him and took her clothes off slowly, being turned on
by the intense flame of desire in his ice blue eyes, how he stood up
then and picked her up, kissing her with uncharacteristic forcefulness
as he carried her to the bed.  She moved underneath me as I kissed her
breasts the way he would, as I pretended to be him, exploring between
her legs for the first time, Hannah parting her thighs to signal her
desire.  And because she decided Mark was unconfident in his ability
to give head, she guided my face to where she wanted it, urging me to
use my tongue, positioning her hips until her clitoris was against my
lips.  She let me playing Mark get used to that for a few minutes,
learning what to do to make her moan, and then she pulled Mark's
fingers to her opening, asking him to put two of them inside her while
he worked her with his mouth.  He complied, gently at first because
that's the kind of guy he was, but again learning quickly because the
deeper his fingers went into her the louder she moaned.  Hannah showed
him how much she liked what he was doing by coming loudly and raggedly
against his face and around his fingers, splaying herself open with
orgasm.

I was so turned on that I wasn't very good at playing the rest of the
game.  We tried to start slowly like we were sure Mark would, but I
couldn't help it and plunged right into fucking her fast and hard. 
She wrapped her legs around me and thrust her hips up to meet my
penetrations.  "Mark," she panted in my ear, "Mark, uh, can't last
very long because he's so turned on.  He, uh," she said, grunting at
our impact, "he wants to but, uh, but I'm fucking him too good and,
uh, he loses, uh, loses control," she said as I locked myself against
her and started to come, my balls tucked against her ass as I
delivered my seed into her.  "Ahh," she exhaled, triumphantly,
clutching her new lover whom she had so overwhelmed.

"I didn't exactly pick him out of nowhere," she said a few minutes
later, on the verge of sleep.

"Is that right?"

"I saw him on the beach earlier today after you left.  I got up to
splash in the water and he was walking down the beach.  We talked for
a few minutes.  His name really is Mark, and he really is here on a
work assignment."

"Is that right?" I said again, wondering why she had chosen to tell me
that, why she had picked him in the bar.

The next morning I said, "Do you think you ever really would?"  We had
had showers and I had talked her back into bed before the beach.  We'd
had this conversation before, about if she could ever really bring
herself to sleep with another man.  I had always gotten the impression
that, given the right circumstances, she really might do it, and I
found the prospect alarming and intriguing.

"I don't know," she said.

I kissed her some, massaged her back, her neck.

"Do you think you would?"

"Oh," she said, as I kissed her breasts, "you really want me to
answer?"

I licked and sucked at her nipples until they were bright red.  "He's
here alone," I reminded her.  "He's awfully cute."

"He is," she sighed as I worked my way lower.

"We'd never see him again," I said as she spread her legs for my
mouth.

"What would you do?" she asked, moving her hips in time with my
tongue.

"Watch you," I said, nibbling at her clitoris.  "Hold you.  Whatever
you want me to do."

"You'd have to talk to him," she said, pulling her knees up with her
hands.

"I can do that," I said, plunging my fingers inside her lust-slick
cunt and sucking her clit roughly into my mouth.

"Aaah," she said, her voice rising like the breeze that blew up the
cliff face.

How do you tell another man you want him to sleep with your wife? 
How, exactly, does that conversation go?  I knew one thing that helped
immensely.  He liked Hannah.  Hannah told me that he walked on the
beach every afternoon, and for the next two days he stopped and talked
to her.  I asked her if he said anything specific.

"He's too shy," she answered.  "He's just a little nervous."

"Then how do you know he likes you?"

"A woman knows."

"He knows you're married?"

"He looks at my ring sometimes like he wishes it would disappear."

"Is he married?"

"He doesn't wear a ring."

"I'm think I'm going to talk to him."

"About me?" she asked, excitement and nervousness catching in her
voice.

"I think so," I said, knowing how she felt.  I wondered if she could
go through with it.  I wondered if I could go through with it.  The
only thing that was certain was that some part of both of us wanted it
to happen.

So I found him at the bar late one afternoon.  He was sitting alone,
drinking iced tea, a laptop computer and some papers in front of him.

"Tough life," I said, sitting on the stool next to him.

He looked up.  I don't think he knew who I was.  "It's not a bad
assignment," he agreed.

A blond twenty-something in a small bikini walked by on her way to the
pool.  We both paused to watch her pass.

"Make the wife jealous that you're here around all these beautiful
women?" I asked him.

"I'm not married," he said.

"Wow.  Then you really do like this assignment."

He just smiled.

The bartender came over.  "Let me buy you a beer," I offered.

He looked at his watch.  "OK," he said, closing the lid on his laptop.
 "Thanks."

We talked for a few minutes before I said, "I'm Hannah's husband, by
the way."

"Hannah?" he said, and then his eyes got wide.  "Oh, Hannah."

"She says you're very friendly."

He looked at me nervously, afraid that I was the jealous husband
coming to make trouble.  I was, of course, but not the kind of trouble
he was thinking of.

"Don't worry," I said, smiling.  "It's OK.  She likes you, too."

"She does?" he asked, surprised, not sure what I was talking about.

"She really does.  Which is why I'd like to talk to you about
something."

"OK," he said, drinking his beer. He was really nervous now.

"Two more," I said to the bartender.  When he had set two fresh beers
in front of us, I said, "Here's the thing, Mark.  Hannah and I have
been talking over the last few days, and we want to know if you'll
sleep with her."

Well, shit, what else was I supposed to say?  I just decided to get it
out there on the table and see what happened.

What happened at first was that he almost spit his beer out onto his
laptop computer.  Then he stammered around without managing to say
much of anything, and it was only after I talked to him about it for a
few more minutes that he really began to think I was serious, and the
more he listened to me talk about Hannah the more I could see a fire
growing in his eyes.

"Tell you what," I finally said.  "Think about it.  Tomorrow's our
last day here.  Think about that when you see Hannah on the beach
tomorrow.  Think about how you'll never see her again, and then think
about what could happen tomorrow night.  I'll be right here tomorrow
afternoon at 5:00.  If you want to do it, meet me here and I'll let
you know where to meet us.  If you don't, then just don't show up. 
Fair enough?"

"Fair," he agreed, still not meeting my eyes.

"OK, then," I said, getting up.  "I hope to see you tomorrow."

Hannah said, "Oh, my God," when I told her I had actually spoken to
him about it.  Then she looked at me.  "What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything.  I told to meet me at the bar tomorrow at
5:00 if he wanted to do it."

"Oh, my God," she said again, blushing crimson.

"Yeah," I agreed.

That night I slept uneasily, fueled by dreams of Hannah and Mark that
washed over me in a dizzying amalgam of heat and jealousy and desire. 
The next afternoon I played golf on a course that ran along black
basalt cliffs and fields of sugarcane, but it was tough not to let my
mind wander ahead.  Would he be there?  I felt the disappointment
creeping in every time I convinced myself he wouldn't show, and every
time I convinced myself he might show after all my stomach caught the
same ball of feelings that had tossed me the night before.

He showed.  Right at 5:00 he came into the bar.  I had washed back
almost an entire nervous beer before he arrived.

"I want to," he said simply, looking me briefly in the eyes before
looking away again.

"OK," I said, with a heavy breath.  "Meet us after dinner, then, back
here, say, 8:00."

"8:00," he nodded.

"OK," I said again, and went to our room to tell Hannah.

"Are we really going to do this?" she asked, trembling.

"Together," I said, not sure if I was reassuring her or me.

"Together, "she repeated, turning the word over in her mind.  "Yes,"
she said, coming into my arms.  "That's tight.  Together."

We made small talk as we got ready, both of our minds occupied by what
was going to happen.

I came out of the shower and caught her in front of the mirror in a
pair of scanty lace underwear.  She looked doubtfully at herself,
imagining herself as a man seeing her, nervous about if she looked
good enough.

"He's seen you in your bikini," I said, kissing her neck as I walked
by.  "He knows you're a knockout."

She slipped off the lace panties and replaced them with a pair of
white cotton that covered more of her crotch and butt but were cut
higher in the hip.

"You can model them for him if you want to," I said.

"Maybe," she answered, arching her eyebrow.  We were both still
nervous but she was warming to the idea.

I found the digital camera and slid it underneath the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"You are a liar."

"Maybe.  Who knows?  We'll see."

She wore a light navy-blue dress patterned with tiny white flowers. 
When the wind blew it rippled across her skin like the water of the
lagoon a hundred feet below.

She was animated during dinner.  She looked around with a particular
sparkle in her eyes that I had seen a hundred times before.  It was
her "Get to Know Me" look that meant she was in a particular kind of
mood.  Sometimes it was for sex.  Often it was just to meet people, to
talk to them, to work a room.  She was an easy conversationalist and
when she wanted to she made friends in bunches.  At any rate, it was a
good sign.  It always meant she was feeling good about herself.  She
had two glasses of wine with dinner.

We met Mark on the terrace after dinner.  He was leaning against a
white rail that ran along the clifftop.  The ocean waves crashed
against rocks far below.  The sound of the surf was like a dull roar
and the breeze riffled and seemed to come from everywhere.  Mark was
drinking a clear liquor.  He smiled when he saw us, his eyes dancing
nervously over Hannah.  He was dressed in khaki shorts and a
button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up below the elbows, and leather
loafers.

"Hi," said Hannah brightly, still full of herself.

"Hi," Mark said to both of us.  There was a moment of uncomfortable
silence.

"Can a girl get a drink around here?" asked Hannah.

"What do you guys drink?" asked Mark.

"Vodka tonic," said Hannah, "with just a splash of orange juice."

"Gin," I said.  "Rocks if it's the good stuff, tonic if it's cheap."

"I'll be right back," he said.

"Just a splash of OJ," Hannah reminded him as he walked away.  She
turned to me and sighed.  "He's pretty cute."

"Don't drink too much," I cautioned her.

She kissed me.  "I need to drink enough," she said.

Mark came back and the three of us leaned against the rail and watched
the ocean sink into darkness.  Hannah stood between us and her natural
easiness kept the conversation flowing.  As darkness finally fell she
shivered in the wind.

I leaned down close to her, my voice obscured by the wind and waves. 
"I'm going to tell him to meet us upstairs now."

She leaned against me but didn't say anything.  I took this as her
assent.

I handed Mark a piece of paper I'd put in my pocket earlier.  "Come on
up when you finish your drink."

Hannah and I walked away, arm in arm.  "You like him?" I asked.

"He's cute, like I said.  Kind of shy."

We got to the elevator.  I kissed her.  "What do you think he'll do
when he gets upstairs and I take your dress off?"

"Is that what you're going to do?" she whispered.

"I want him to look at you."

The elevator door opened and we went to our room.  Suddenly, when the
door closed behind us and we were now just waiting for my wife's
chosen lover to come and make love to her, I was the nervous one.

"Do you want another drink?" I asked her, going to the minibar.

"I don't think so," she said.  She stood in the middle of the room
like she wasn't sure what she should be doing.  The moment was
definitely upon us.

I poured a minibottle of scotch into a tumbler and mixed in soda
water.  I went to Hannah and kissed her again, pulling her close by
the small of her back.  Then I slugged the drink down in three gulps. 
About the time I finished it there was a knock on the door.  "I'll get
it," I said, my lips close against her ear.  "Stay where you are."

Mark walked quickly inside, as if he was afraid he might be spotted. 
He stopped when he saw Hannah.  Now that he was here, she was suddenly
at a loss for words.  She looked at him and smiled briefly but looked
quickly down at her red toenails.

The two of them stood there, five feet apart, looking at anything but
each other.

The scotch was enough to make me bold.  "Why don't you sit down,
Mark?" I said, pointing at the loveseat.

He sat.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked him.

"Maybe just some water," he said, looking parched.

I fetched him a bottle of water from the minibar.  I crossed back to
where Hannah was standing and went behind her, circling my arms around
her waist.  There seemed to be no use in further preliminaries.  "Just
close your eyes," I whispered in her ear, "and remember what a sexy
wonderful woman you are."  Then I kissed her neck hungrily and ran my
hands across her belly and down along her hips.  She sighed and
settled her weight against me, leaning her head back onto my chest. 
The dress slipped like quicksilver over her skin as my hands moved
across it.  As I drew my palms up the outside of her legs the fabric
hushed upward.  The curtain raised on her thighs.  She rocked ever so
slightly back against me.  Mark even got to see the flash of white at
the juncture of her legs as the fabric rose to reveal a hint of her
panties for a moment before it slipped out from underneath my hands
and fell back down to its proper length.

"I think I'm going to take this dress off now," I said to the nape of
her neck.

Mark sat statue-still on the sofa.  Hannah was equally motionless.

I raised my hands to the zipper at the back of her neck.  Her hair was
like water through my fingers as I started sliding the pull-tab down
her back.  I nibbled her ear as the V of skin grew along the axis of
her spine.  Her breasts rose and fell under the fabric as she
breathed.  The zipper stopped about mid-back.  I slid my hands up her
back, massaged the muscles at the nape of her neck and worked my
fingers under the loose fabric.  I massaged her shoulders, working my
hands outward from her neck.  The dress parted with me, and when I
reached the round slope to her arms, the dress fell away.  I moved my
hands down her arms and the dress retreated before me.  In a moment it
hung about her waist and she stood with only her bra concealing her
breasts from Mark's eager eyes.

There was still no sound in the room except for the hush of cotton
over flesh and the guarded measure of Hannah's breathing.  I left the
dress about her waist for a moment and ran my hands back up,
encircling my arms around her stomach, hugging her, kissing her neck. 
When I ran my palms upward over her tummy and lightly across her
breasts she made a small surprised sound and I felt again the pressure
of her pressing back against me.  My cock had begun to harden as I
revealed her to Mark and I know she felt me against her bottom when
she pressed back into me.

I didn't linger long at her breasts.  Quickly I dropped my hands again
and grabbed the fabric bunched around her waist and pulled it down
over her hips.  The dress puddled around her feet.  I looked up at
Mark.  His water bottle was empty.  He stared intently, almost
painfully at Hannah's body, like he was caught between his desire for
her and his disbelief that I was going to allow it all to happen.

"Is she beautiful?" I asked him.

"She is," he said, unable to take his eyes off her.

"She gets more beautiful still," I said, and I began to work at the
snap of her bra.

Then Hannah opened her eyes for the first time since I'd started
taking her dress off.  She had gone a little rigid.  "Um," she said,
"I think I need to pee."  She stepped out of the discarded dress and
walked quickly into the bathroom.

Mark looked at the floor.  Then at me.  "She's beautiful," he said
again, as if it was the only thing he could think of.

"I'll tell you what," I said to him.  "When she gets back out I'm
going to take her into the bedroom.  Give us five minutes.  Then come
in the bedroom.  Will you do that?"

He nodded.

Hannah came out of the bathroom.  I took her hand.  "Come with me," I
said, leading her to the bedroom.

"What's going on?" she asked as I closed the door behind us.

"I asked Mark to give us a few minutes alone," I answered.  "He'll be
in in a few minutes."  Then I drew her to me and kissed her deeply,
passionately, wetly.  She kissed me back urgently, with her whole
body.  Despite her hesitancy she was fiercely turned on.  Reaching up
behind her I unsnapped her bra and it hung where her breasts were
crushed against me.  As I kneeled in front of her it fell to the
floor.  I kissed her in a quick line straight down from her neck along
her breastbone and navel until I was on my knees and my face was
pressed against her stomach.  "I'm sorry you didn't really get to
model your panties for him," I said as I pulled them down her legs.  I
put my hands on her ass and pulled her to me as I planted my face
between her legs, stabbing at her with my tongue.  She sighed and
worked her legs slightly apart, enough for me to find her outer labia.
 They were already slick and parted slightly as the tip of my tongue
probed her.  She spread her legs a little more but I stood up and
picked her up and laid her back on the bed.

"Take your clothes off," she said.  "I don't want to be the only one
naked."

I stripped as quickly as I could and then got on the bed and put my
hands on her knees and urged them apart.  She lay back and complied
and again I buried my face between her legs, but this time she was
open and I ploughed her deeply with my tongue as she began slow
fucking motions with her hips.  After exploring her inside for a brief
time I moved my face up and found her clitoris, which was already
beginning to swell into a fine ripe cherry.  She moaned when I hit it
with my tongue, flicking it and flattening it against her.

"Are you turned on?" I asked, sucking her cherry between my lips.

"You know I am," she hissed, her breath escaping until I released her
clit.

"Do you want to fuck him?" I asked.  I put two fingers against the
entrance to her pussy.  She instinctively pulled her legs up, her
hands behind her knees, and my fingers slipped into her.

"Do, ah, you want me to fuck him?" she asked as I brushed her g-spot
with my knuckles.

I snuggled my fingers in as deeply as they would go and resumed
French-kissing her clitoris.  I fucked her slowly with my fingers,
drawing them out and dipping them back as deeply as they would go
several times while I sucked her.  She put her hands against the back
of my head and pulled me to her.  Then I answered.  "I want you to
fuck him," I said, and went back to what I had been doing.

"Ah," she said, "oh.  Oh.  Yes.  I want to fuck him."  She was
grinding herself against my face, her hands entwined in my hair.

She could come any minute now, but I didn't want her to come yet.  I
wanted her hovering in this delicious hormonal tide when Mark came in,
so I released her clit and withdrew my fingers from her saturated
depths, switching over to a slow north-south exploration along the
length of her entrance with my tongue.  Hannah expressed her
frustration at this interruption by making pouty sounds and rotating
her hips, trying to capture my fingers inside her again.  She bumped
my face against her pussy with her hands but I just chuckled and
worked my head free, continuing my languid licking.  She was spread
wide and wanton, her knees in the air, and I let my fingers wander
down to trace light circles around her anus.  When she was hot she
liked for me to fingerfuck her ass, and she was most definitely hot
right now, but I kept all my explorations topical, teasing the
butterfly wings of her vulva with my tongue and just tickling her
asshole with my fingertips.

A breeze disturbed the air.  Hannah moaned "Oh," and stiffened for a
moment before relaxing again.  Mark had come into the room.  He had
changed into the white terrycloth robe the resort provided in the
bathrooms.  It stopped just above his knee.  He stopped beside the
bed, looking down at Hannah.  I hadn't even heard the door open.  I
wondered how long he'd been watching us from the doorway.

Hannah looked up at him and smiled.  "Hi," she said airily. 
Apparently she had given herself over now and was quite enjoying
herself.  "I was a little nervous," she explained, "but he's helped me
get over that."  She patted my head.  I winked up at them but didn't
stop what I was doing.

Mark relaxed visibly, seeing everything so casual.  He reached down
and touched her forehead, brushing some stray strands of hair back
from her eyes.

"Maybe you should kiss me," suggested Hannah.

Mark leaned over and brushed her lips with his.  She opened her mouth.
 He put his mouth on hers and they began to kiss.  His breath escaped
in an audible sigh.  He was hungry.  All the pent-up hunger he'd had
for Hannah was beginning to surface.  Hannah moved her hands from my
head to his, pulling him into her as they kissed.

I reached underneath the bed for the camera I'd left there earlier. 
Still on my knees, still with my head between Hannah's thighs, I
raised the camera to my eye and FLASH snapped a picture of the two of
them kissing.  They both looked up in surprise.  "Don't let me
interrupt anything," I said, snapping a picture of the two of them,
their cheeks wet against each other, looking at me.  "I'm just having
some fun."

Mark looked doubtful but Hannah made him forget his doubts by burying
her face against his neck, kissing and licking.  I kissed her cunt
some more, letting my fingers go back inside her just to the first
knuckle.  Mark reached down and touched Hannah's breast.  He cupped it
in his palm before brushing his fingers across her nipple.  Hannah
moaned and he lowered his head and began to suck on her nipple.  FLASH
I snapped the picture of Mark's mouth locked greedily on her breast. 
His cheeks creased at the force of the suction he was applying.

I matched him for a moment, catching up Hannah's clitoris again
between my lips and pulling it into my mouth.  Hannah bucked like
she'd touched a live wire.  I let go of her clit and she collapsed
back against the bed.  Mark continued his attention to her breasts,
licking and sucking his way from one to the other.  He was still
standing beside the bed, bent at the waist to reach her.  Hannah
reached out and fumbled with the knot of his robe.  She pulled one end
and the knot unraveled.  She loosened the sash and worked her hand
inside the split.  "Mmmm," she and Mark moaned at the same time, and I
knew she had found his cock.  I snapped a quick FLASH of my wife's
hand disappeared inside the folds of his robe.

"Take this off," she commanded Mark, tugging at the robe.

He straightened up and shrugged the robe away.  Now, Hannah is no
cockwatcher, but she arched an eyebrow when she saw Mark's penis.  It
was not much longer than mine but it was noticeably thicker, tipped
with an even wider-flanged head.  It was already fully erect.  She
reached back out for it, moving her hand up and down along its length,
testing its circumference by encircling it with her fingers.  Mark
moved his hips a little at her touch.  Hannah reached down and tickled
his scrotum, which caused him to gasp.  I took another snapshot of her
studying his cock with her hand.  In between pictures, I resumed my
lazy licking.  Hannah danced her cunt back at me in an equally lazy
rhythm.  She was in a new place now, and she seemed happy to be
floating there.

Mark knelt on the bed, positioning his cock near Hannah's face. 
Hannah stroked him inches from her mouth.  She looked down at me. 
This was not something we had talked about, specifically.  Maybe it
seems odd, knowing your wife is going to have sex with another man but
suddenly being unsure if she should take him in her mouth.  But I
guess she wondered about it, too, which is why her eyes questioned me.
 She wanted to feel it in her mouth.  I raised the camera and winked
at her.  She blew me a suggestive kiss.  FLASH.  Then she leaned over
and touched his cock with her tongue.  FLASH.

"Oh God," Mark groaned, resting a hand on her head.

"Yeah?" she asked, licking down his length.  She opened her mouth and
sucked one of his balls between her teeth.

"Ahh," he gasped.  FLASH.

After a moment she released one and sucked the other, and then she
worked her way slowly back up, jacking his shaft wetly between her
open lips.  Mark pressed himself against her, his hands entwining in
her hair.  FLASH.

When she reached the top again she opened wide and his engorged crown
slipped inside her mouth.  She bobbed up and down on the head a few
times before sinking a little deeper, stretching her mouth wide around
his girth.  She cradled his scrotum in one hand.  I snapped a picture
of Mark's face looking down at her through passion-fluttered eyes. 
"Ohhh," he hissed, and when I looked back down I saw her cheeks
collapsed again him with suction.  She was literally sucking him, and
for the first time a real pang of jealousy shot through my gut. 
Hannah had given me a lot of blowjobs but she had never sucked me like
that, and I imagined the sudden sharp pang of pleasure in my own dick
at what that vacuum pressure must feel like.  I captured it on digital
film so I could ask her about it later.

Mark was really gone by this point, moaning and thrusting his hips at
her and gripping her hair between his fists.  And that's when Hannah
pulled away, looking up at him.

"I think you should fuck me now," she told him.

"Yeah," agreed Mark.

I extricated myself from between Hannah's legs and lay beside her on
the bed.  Mark positioned himself where I had been.  He began to move
forward, searching for her opening.  She stopped him, two hands firmly
on his shoulders.  "Just one rule," she said, looking him firmly in
the eye.  "I don't you to come inside me."

He nodded.  "OK."

She tipped her face to me for one final confirmation.  She would still
stop if she found me unsure.  She didn't want to, but she would.  I
allayed her hesitation by finding her mouth with my own.  I felt her
hand move between her legs for his penis.  She guided him slowly to
her.  She trembled again, with lust, with fear that his girth would
hurt her.  I knew it wouldn't.  We had a dildo at home that was as
thick and even longer than Mark and she took all of it with gusto when
she was as wet as she was now.  We were locked in a deep French kiss
when she arched her hips up off the bed and he began to enter her.  I
didn't see this, but I felt it in her kiss.  Her tongue sought out my
mouth the deeper he moved into her, and when she sighed and relaxed 
her hips back into the mattress, I knew he'd slid all the way home.

Now I didn't want to be between them, not having any role in this part
of the action.  I rose from the bed and watched.  There was my wife
willingly with another man, his penis buried in her up to the hilt. 
The burning inside was an inextricable fusion of possessiveness and
horniness.  I wanted to throw him off of her but at the same time it
was too good, too sexy, watching them fucking.  I grabbed the camera.

He began to move slowly, withdrawing and then entrenching himself
again.  She moved her hips to meet him when he came down.  I walked
behind the bed because I just had to see it for myself.  I had to
watch his length disappear into her until his balls flattened against
her ass.  It was delicious and pornographic and a perfect thing to
take a picture of.  He continued at this slow, thoughtful pace as
Hannah began to get more insistent.  Mark was too nice of a guy, too
gentle.  He made love nicely, gently, much like we had imagined it
that first night we fantasized about him.  Hannah was well past the
gentle stage.  She made insistent sounds and pulled her heels up to
his ass.  She began prodding him with her heels, urging his tempo
faster, and he complied.  Hesitantly at first but then with increasing
abandon he began to slam himself against her.  She encouraged him with
"Ahs" and "Ohs," increasing in intensity with his fucking until her
every utterance escaped on breath forced up from her diaphragm when
their bodies smashed together.

She dug her nails into his back and arched her neck.  Their bodies
glistened with sweat.  He no longer needed the encouragement of her
heels digging into him and she lifted her legs high and wide, eyes
closed, mouth open, hair a passionate mess all over her face.  FLASH.

Suddenly Mark gave a strangled howl and against all of his will he
pulled back out of her.  Hannah cried out at the sudden abandonment. 
Mark thrust his sex-slickened penis up and it split wide the folds of
her pussy lips scraping upward across her clit just before it sent
wild white jets of semen blasting forth over her abdomen.  Mark moaned
and ground his hips against her as he came.  The first explosive spurt
flew all the way to her left breast and the succeeding salvos dappled
her ribs and stomach in pearly white.

They remained still for a moment, him resting his weight between her
legs.  Hannah was still breathing hard, her hands patting absently on
his back.  Mark leaned down and kissed her openly on the mouth. 
"Thank you," he said.  His voice was full of intimate gratitude, as if
she were the first woman he had ever slept with, as if she had
introduced him to a strange and wonderful world he had never before
known existed.

Hannah didn't answer.  She just smiled through her closed eyes and
tangled hair, a devilish smile that puzzled me until I realized: she
had been turned on, teased at the horizon of orgasm, let loose to fuck
a strange men, but had not yet come.  Somewhere, boiling down inside
her, her orgasm was still forming.  She lay on the bed, legs parted,
decorated with Mark's passion.

"I think it's my turn," I said.  Now it was Mark's turn to stand
aside.  Without any pretense I planted my lips around her clit.  She
screamed out, pulling her knees up to her chest.  No need to fool
around here.  I plunged two fingers into her pussy.  She was so open,
still dilated to the width of Mark's cock.  I scissored my fingers
back and forth across the soft walls, bumping her G-spot, plunging
them as deeply as they could dive into her.  She was wild, bucking
against me, her orgasm building rapidly now.

"Do you want to come now?" I asked her.

"Please," she panted.

When I plunged my fingers deeply into her pussy, I sucked hard at her
clitoris.  As I withdrew them I let her clit go.  Again, I sucked her
on the instroke and released her on the outstroke.  I kept fluttering
the fingers in her cunt over her G-spot each time they passed.

"Don't stop," said Hannah, beginning to tense, rolling her hips.  I
plunged in again.  "Don't stop," she cried.  I felt her vaginal walls
begin to constrict around my fingers.  "Don't, oooh, don't, ahhh," she
pleaded, unable to finish because at that moment the orgasm that had
been teased up and checked for so long by everything that had happened
took her so completely that it stole her voice, commanding her to cry
out hoarsely as every muscle in her body snapped taut with the
electricity sent forth from her loins.  I was fighting just to hang on
to her, reveling in the ecstatic lifeforce I felt all around me,
trying to keep myself from coming all over the bedspread.  The room
flashed.

Slowly, Hannah began to unwind from her orgasm, her body flowing from
a diamond hardness into a slow river of satisfaction.  I withdrew my
fingers from her and looked around.  Mark was gone.  He had withdrawn
from us, closing the door to the living room behind him.  He would
dress and leave, and we would never see him again.

Hannah looked utterly spent and beautiful and incredibly sexy.

"Are you OK?" I asked her.

She nodded sleepily and said, "Are you?"

"Well," I said, looking down at my own straining cock.  "I got this
thing."

She chuckled.  "Come here."

"Are you sure?" I asked as I climbed over her.

She put her hands on me just as she had Mark before he entered her. 
"You," she said through eyes on the verge of dream, patting my heart
with her palm.  "I want you to come inside me."

"That will not be a problem," I said, and entered her.  I was sure she
was worn out, sore down there from being so well used, but she felt
like heaven to me.  She closed her eyes and accepted me back in.  She
didn't want it rough and wild right now, which was fine because after
everything that had happened I came after only a minute, laying my
body out along the length of hers, pressing myself deeply into her,
saturating her with my seed down in all the secret places Mark would
never touch.

As expected, we never did see Mark again.  And though neither of us
regrets what happened that night, we haven't done anything like it
again.  We still fantasize about strangers we meet, and now those
fantasies have an added element of possibility enhancing their
excitement, but neither of us has raised the possibility again of
actually following through.  Even the night with Mark has taken on
something of the aura of fantasy.  Those pictures from the digital
camera came out pretty well.  I keep them locked away on a
password-protected CD, and every now and then when the mood strikes us
we'll take the laptop to bed and fire up the CD and look at the
pictures and tell each other stories about that night.  There's a
final picture on the CD, one Mark must have taken while both Hannah
and I were gone in the moment of her orgasm.  At the very instant she
came he snapped a picture of her thrown into space by her orgasm, my
fingers sunk deeply into her, her body lit up like a bolt of
lightning, sparkling with sweat and come.  That's a good picture.  By
the time we get to it we're all tangled up together, lips and tongues
and fingers and limbs, just the two of us, all mixed up, just the way
we like it.


THE END
April 4, 2002

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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