I had fallen into some overtime at work. Who am I kidding? I had worked like a coolie for an entire summer, 12 hour shifts, 5 days a week, and had banked everything in excess of my base pay. Once I had caught up on what seemed like several hundred hours sleep deficit, I counted out a tidy little sum of unallocated money. I heard bills a’calling!

It turned out, once the last check had been written, there was still some money left in the “otherwise unspent yet” fund. TDW, Marie had a solution for THAT problem, as well.

Every winter, long around February, we began to bitch about the short days, the persistent cloudiness, and lack of honest-to-goodness sunshine, lasting weeks on end. Marie rooted around and noted the fact that in the Caribbean, sunshine was a plentiful commodity. Indeed, it appeared that there were organizations devoted to the humanitarian task of ferrying sun deprived souls about the tropical portions of the western hemisphere, simply so such poor wretches could remember what That Bright Thing, way up in the sky, looked like. Marie looked into it, we had the money, and we were in!

Our cruise was in March, about at the early stirrings of spring breaks in colleges across the land. On our second day at sea, Marie and I decided to stroll around the upper decks. The sky was blue, there was a nice sea breeze, and it was right around 75 degrees. Marie thought that it was a perfect day to get out of doors. We had traveled around a thousand miles to escape the drab, gray, Wisconsin winter, and we ought to capitalize upon the opportunity. I was certainly up for it!.

Our stroll was uneventful, with many folks laying out catching the sun. Most were at least of average attractiveness. Others appeared to be refugees from a Greenpeace Maritime Mammal Rescue mission. Here and there were young women who were simply significantly above average in pulchritude. Seriously, I mean double-take-pretty. These women appeared to feel the need to show their taste in beachwear, and their tastes ran along the lines of maximum synthesis of Vitamin D. Their swimsuits manifestly serving as outstanding frames for the artwork that the woman in question represented.

So as we rounded the corner on deck 9, there was a pretty young woman around 18-20 years of age, in a two piece swimsuit, sunning herself. She looked to be 5-5 maybe 5-7, around 130 pounds if her curves were an indication. Well, I assume it was a two piece suit, but there was no evidence of the top across her back. Prone, she was propped up on her elbows, engrossed in doing some sort of thing with her cell phone, and her (looked to be ) C cup breasts gently swayed beneath her, free of both confinement, as well as the towel beneath her. Her dark hair was piled upon her head, in a sort of hasty bun, and her smooth, tanned skin curved beneath her swimsuit bottoms, continuing the lines that have captivated men since before time began, and since each man noticed the differences between themselves and women.

Her nipples were not in evidence. At least, insofar as I succeeded in not coming off as a complete horndog, I did not take a satisfactorily long gaze, to determine if her nipples were in evidence. To my way, way too casual glance, it appeared that the tips of her breasts were concealed by her forearms, propped up as she was. The portions that both were in evidence, and that I burned into my memory, were perfect in skin, smooth in curve, firm in appearance, and forever to feature in my masturbatory fantasies.

I had flattered myself, that I had concealed from my wife, both the fact that this woman had been just short of naked on that deck chair, as well as that my view of her was destined to become a permanent feature of my fantasy life. I was mistaken. Once we returned to our cabin, she elbowed me, and grinned. “You almost had me convinced that you had missed the topless gosling on the upper deck. I don’t suppose that she has a single tan line, anywhere. Wonder if she plays?”

“Well, since I have not seen her, ever, before, that suggests that we will never see her again...”

My chortling wife interjected, “Well, we’re unlikely to see that much of her, ever again!”

I continued. “ ... and therefore we are unlikely to learn if she plays at all, let alone with a couple such as ourselves. Yes, I did notice her. Yes, I did, however briefly, admire her. And, you will notice, I not only did not trip over my tongue, but also I returned to my stateroom with my very own darling wife, object of my sexual desires and fantasies for many, many years!”

She regarded me skeptically. Just as if I were slinging bullshit. Me? I would NEVER do that! Nononono! Not me! “So, you were not distracted the least little bit by the nearly naked young morsel sunning herself out there in front of Ghawd and everybody? You did not engrave her curves on the inside of your eyeballs, to review them later, alone, cock in hand? Reeaalllyyy?”

“Well, if you must know the whole truth, I did notice her, I did admire her, and, yes, I did lust in my heart after her. Happy now?”

My devious little wifey smiled, and gazed about, as if indifferent. “So, you remember yesterday, when I went shopping and you stayed on the deck to read?”

I did remember.

“And, did you notice that I took my sweet time returning to you?”

I observed, “Not only did I notice, I had an explanation: you were busy spending my money, an avocation which I am evidently powerless to prevent you from pursuing.”

Her eyes met mine. “Well, besides that, I found us a surprise.”

“Oh, a surprise? What does this surprise have to do with your spending my money just as if I made the big buck, and/or the cute young woman in the sun?”

She sidled up next to me, wrapped her arms around me, and looked up at me with big eyes, and innocently observed, “Well, yesterday, she was busily spending her daddy’s money because, she told me, she was bored. I ran into her, we talked, and she is here with her parents, and she is looking for some fun and games!”

“What sort of fun and games, and how do I, or we, figure into relieving her boredom?”

Marie drew back, and smirked. “Well, we got into some ‘girl talk’, and it seems that our soon to be new friend broke up with her high school boyfriend just about the time she left for college. She hasn’t hooked up with anyone since, as she found the opportunities that she has had to be unappealing. She is looking for something with no strings, and figures that an older, experienced man could both scratch the itch she has spent all last semester developing, as well as probably show her new varieties of a good time! I, of course, being the loving wifey that I am, talked up your skills in the bedroom. Linda, our soon to be new friend, was eager to get the opportunity to form her own opinion about your skills as a cocksman!”

I was skeptical. “You flatter me. Granted, I have always done my best to leave you breathless and satiated, but gotta admit, the prospect of you singing my praises in order to promote some strange new pussy for me, is a brand new thing. What’s up with that?”

“So, you know that thing you like? That thing that I am not at all fond of?”

“Honey, that could be a couple of things. I mean, is it backpacking, or Nascar, or porn? What, in particular, do you mean?”

She looked away. “Well, you know that I don’t like it up my butt. You tried, and you were so gentle, and took your time and everything, but my ex husband was such a dolt, and so rough, that I find it impossible to relax enough for you to fuck my butt. I get so tense, that it really, really hurts me. You haven’t brought it up for years and years, but, it would make me happy if you could enjoy that thing again. And, it turns out, Linda really likes it in her butt. She started in high school, so she could be sure she wouldn’t get pregnant when her boyfriend did not bring a condom on a date. She developed a liking for it, and you, loving husband that you are, deprived yourself of something that you enjoyed, simply because your wife could not get next to it. Well, to reward you for being the best husband I could imagine having, you are going to get to romance a nice, cute, young woman who enjoys the pleasures of butt sex!”

I did not know what to say. My devious little wifey smiled, pridefully, back at me, and awaited my response.

“Wow, that’s got me floored! None of my buddies are married to a woman who would allow the to sample other women, and here you not only approved, you set things up! How lucky am I to be married to you!?”

“In one word? VERY!”

Further conversation revealed that Darling Wifey had arranged that we were to meet Linda for dinner, around 4 o’clock.

We met Linda for dinner, and she was every bit as lovely, clothed, as she had been up on deck earlier that day. Marie introduced me, and we chatted. I was (pleasantly) surprised by Linda’s conversation. She was thoughtful, intelligent, and skeptical. She commented, “I guess I did not really like Mr. Trump. I was not sure that he had the personality to deliberate, to accept advice, before making decisions that could affect everybody in the country, everybody in the world. On the other hand, with Mr. Biden, well, he appears unable to speak more than a half a dozen lines unscripted. And, if Mr. Biden is taking advice before taking action, he has got to have the absolute worst advisors in the history of giving advice! Even worse, it looks as if the media cannot see a single thing wrong with any action he has taken at all! It makes me wonder if all of them are corrupt, and covering for him only because he is ‘their guy’! That does NOT make me rest easily!”

We chatted some more. On some matters, we agreed. On others, well, she had her opinion and I had mine, and Marie had her own! I was intrigued that, even when we agreed, Linda appeared to have considered the other side and the merits of it’s case, before taking her own position.

After dinner, we all meandered to our cabin. Once inside, Linda sat on the sofa, appearing mildly apprehensive. “So,” she began, “How does this work? I never got it on with a guy, with his wife watching.”

I shrugged (universal guy answer), and Marie provided direction. “Linda, I suppose we might begin with me warming up my husband for you, and then you might join in as the mood suggests.” Marie turned to me, and wrapped her arms around my neck, smooching my neck.

She murmured, “This is your opportunity to play. You DO realize, you are only allowed to play when I approve, correct?”

Mute, I nodded.

“And, I approve of you playing with Linda here. Look, see how pretty she is?”

Linda smiled, a sunrise of delight, all apprehension gone.

“Do you see her pretty eyes? How her smile wraps up in her eyes, how her hair frames her lovely face?”

Again, mute affirmation.

“Can you imagine her small, pretty mouth, those full lips wrapped around your schwanz? How about how she will look, gazing up at you, your dick all in her face? You beginning to throb?”

I realized that I was short of breath. At least, I was panting, in lust, because of the word picture Marie was drawing.

“I know you noticed her tits. Just the right size, aren’t they? Not too small, large enough that you can see that she is all woman, fully grown, ready to pleasure some lucky man, while he pleasures her, in return. Betcha you’d like to suck those titties, suck those nipples into your mouth, nibble on them, inspect them with your tongue, for any defects, right?”

Linda sat more fully upright on the sofa, which had the effect of thrusting her breasts forward. She, herself, was breathing more heavily at this point, which added to the erotic effect. Linda spoke up, “Wouldn’t you like to see my breasts? I know my sweater puppies would like to know you better! Want me to let them out to play?”

Some questions require no answer. Marie, released me, and turned me to the eager woman. Linda rose, twined her arms around my neck, and picked up from where Marie had left off. Our tongues wrestled, and I reached around her, finding, and grasping, the tab on her dress’s zipper. I pulled back, looked a question at her, to which she nodded enthusiastically.

We clinched again, and her dress opened slowly, as I leisurely drew the zip down. I discovered that she had not worn a brassiere, and finally rested my hand on her panties, the zip having reached it’s limit.

Marie had seated herself, opening her blouse, caressing her own nipples through her own brassiere. Linda broke our embrace, stepping back a bit, glancing at Marie. As if encouraged by my wife’s manifest arousal, the co-ed slowly dropped her arms to her side. This had the effect of allowing gravity to have it’s way with her dress, as the garment slowly slid down her arms, pausing on her taut erect nipples, before continuing it’s descent.

The dress pooled around her feet, like a mist upon a meadow. I took her hand, and she stepped out of the garment. She turned to Marie, breasts swaying with her movement. A tentative smile about her lips, Linda faced my wife.

Marie smiled, broadly and without reservation. While my attention had been taken by the nearly naked youngster before me, my wife was in the middle of shedding her own clothing.

While she did have several years on the svelte morsel nearest me, she did not lose much in comparison. A couple of pounds that she wanted to leave behind, breasts not so perky as when she, herself, was a co ed, some stretch marks on her tummy, yeah, but she was a grown woman, who knew who she was, and what she was about, and had shared many, many memories with me. And, she had given me permission to play! My Man Club was engorged with blood, and very excited to see how this soiree developed.

Marie turned from the dresser, and stepped closer. “So, Linda, let me show you something that Mark, here, really likes!”

She knelt at my feet, released my trouser’s fastening, and drew pants and shorts down my legs. Gesturing for the younger woman to join her, Marie started into the introductions. “Mr. Happy, this is Linda. You ought to be certain that you show her a very good time!”

Linda reached out, and shook my cock, handshake style. “Oh, I have no doubt that you and I will enjoy our time together! How do you do, Mr. Happy!”

It had been years, decades really, since a young woman in her twenties had encountered my johnston. He approved, with a salty salute. Linda noticed. “Wow! He’s running with juice! Somebody looks like he’s happy to see me!”

She had that right. I commented, “I have to say, not only is my krenk happy to see you, I am happy to see you!”

Marie took over. “Mark, here, really enjoys head-I mean, what man doesn’t, right? But, he particularly enjoys it when I can relax my throat, and let him fuck my face. I simply love the slutty feeling of submission I get when he face fucks me, and, when he climaxes in my mouth, or my throat, well, I climax, myself, knowing I brought him so much pleasure, and that he will reciprocate in very short order!”

Linda essayed a small frown. “Fuck your face? You mean, hold your head, drive his cock into your throat, and just use your mouth? You like that? You cum from that? I never have found head all that exciting for me.”

Marie was warming up to her topic. “Well, Mark and I have lots of history, and so it is easy for me to trust him, completely. He always just seems to know when to let up, when I’m running out of breath. When you are sucking a man who is paying that much attention to you, even when you have his dick down your throat, well, that frees you to concentrate on other things, to feel other things, other than worried that he’ll lose control.” Marie looked up at me, and smiled, the smile that had won my heart so long ago. “I really kind of like it!”

Linda shook her head. “Well, you know, with the boys I have fucked, well, I have sucked them, and so forth, but it never really seemed that they were interested in anything other than getting their own jollies. Never once did a boy make me feel like he was even interested in my climax, let alone whether or not I was OK. I suppose if you cannot trust a boy, it is difficult to let go, to surrender to the sex feelings, eh?”

Marie hugged the younger woman. “Oh, sweetie! You are in for such a treat! Mark seems to delay his own climax, simply so that he can be sure I get my own cookies! Now, about your deep throat skills...”

Linda looked at Marie warily. “You did say ‘deep throat’, right? On that cock? I get it, Mark is no porn star, but, that does seem to be a bit much to take to the root!”

Marie turned to me. “Honey? Am I able to take you to the base? And hold position for a minute or two?”

“Sure are, sweetie, to my everlasting joy! You certainly treat my dick right!”

Marie turned back to her acolyte. “Linda, unless you want to give it a try, you don’t have to throat Mark, or let him fuck your face. This is all invitation only! But I think that you will want to see what you can do. If you don’t, that’s alright! Let’s all have fun, and get Mark all slobbery and throbbing, so that he can ream your pretty little butt!”

With an “after you” gesture, Linda offered first strike at my nads to Marie, and my darling wifey dove into the task. Even after years of marriage, and all the times we had made love, there was something special about her brown eyes placidly smiling up at me, with my entire length embedded in her pharynx, as if to taunt me, “You know anybody else who can do this? Who can enjoy doing this? Who can get her jollies, while giving you so much pleasure? ... I didn’t think so!”

She was right. Head from Marie was a world class experience, a veritable Michelin 5 star experience. (although, I’m pretty certain that I’d be very, very upset if ‘Sex with Mark’s Wife’ wound up rated, in a guidebook, published worldwide.)

After several gasping moments of this treatment (Gasping from me. Marie’s aerobic conditioning was entirely adequate to the task!), I was handed to Linda. “Here, why don’t you see if you can make his eyes cross?”

Linda looked dubious. “I dunno. You got game, girl! I can certainly make a boy fold up, but, from what I just saw, Mark may be used to a higher level of cock-sucking than I can deliver. You’re kind of intimidating!”

Marie smiled. “Years of experience, girlfriend, years of experience! You just do your best, have fun doing it, and I think that everybody will enjoy themselves. No medals in these games!”

Linda grasped the proffered reltney, and turned my tool to and fro, examining it from various angles. Apparently satisfied with her inspection, she took a tentative lingual swipe, and settled back on her heels to contemplatively lick her lips. “You don’t smoke, do you? And, not a lot of alcohol, right?”

I agreed. “What makes you ask that?”

Linda smiled at me. “Oh, I can tell. it’s just so much more pleasant to suck a guy who eats right, and doesn’t smoke. Somehow, it comes out in your semen, and, well, it certainly detracts from the experience!”

With that out of the way, she addressed my beef baton, peppering it with kisses and running her tongue up and down, paying particular attention to the glans. I sighed my approval.

Linda gave me a quick look, drew in a deep breath, and slowly descended along my turgid length. She stopped a little over half way, paused, breathed out then in through her nose, and took in another couple of inches. She held there, with 2 or three inches of my love lance quivering in the air, looking cross eyed at the remaining johnston she had not engulfed.

As mentioned above, I am no sort of porn star, no dick-blessed freak of nature. My schwanz is generally around 7 inches long when fully hard. Like the guy said, if you can rub the sides, the length is not a particular problem. So, when Linda looked at me as if I had a larger cock than she could handle, well, it likely related more to her limited experience, rather than the Brobdingnagian dimensions of my muff weasel. Either way, I was not about to criticize the performance of the woman who had my joint in her mouth, and appeared motivated to treat it very, very well.

I smiled, and looked in her eyes. “I am unable to tell you just how wonderful that feels! I feel as if you are devoted to pleasing my krenk, and, gotta tell you, both he and I are very appreciative of your efforts! Keep that up, and you may get a taste of my special hollandaise sauce!”

She drew off my length, drew in a shuddering deep breath, and smiled up at me. “No, sir! No you don’t! I have plans for your hollandaise sauce, and buttering my tonsils is not that plan!”

She took another deep suck of my (soon to be) cum fountain, and rolled my dickhead around in her mouth for a couple of minutes. And I enjoyed every one of them!

Soon satisfied at the steely nature of my throbbing erection, she drew off of me with a “Pop!”, and settled again on her heels, at Marie’s side. Turning to my wife, she observed, “I see what you mean about trust, now. Mark never once reached for my head, I never once thought he was going to cram his dick fully into my throat. When he controls himself, it frees me to play, and enjoy what I’m doing to him, and how he’s responding.” She paused, reflecting for a moment. “I like that! It makes sucking a guy off, fun!”