Spanish Bull For Real

It was just like my wife to play the ultimate tease at the last moment, saying that she would let him do it bare. If anything that told me that a tease was all it was. There was no way that she would risk it. Not when her cycle meant that round about now was when she was most fertile. I grinned at the cheek of her, the nearly exposed buttock cheek, and the tease that she was.

The waiter took away our plates and asked if we wanted anything more, desert or coffee. I guess that he assumed Sarah had gone inside to use the rest room. I asked for the cuenta, and sipped at the remaining wine while waiting for it to arrive. I paid, still lingering over my wine, even though I knew the restaurant would want the table freed for a second set of covers. The season lasted only so long, and I knew they had to make the most of it. But ten minutes more before I left would make no difference. Fifteen minutes later, I saw Helga.

Not that I knew her name, or had ever set eyes on her before, but she was in a bar that I was passing, and I liked the black waves of hair, the blue denim shirt tied beneath full breasts, the high cut denim shorts and infinitely long legs, and the fact that she was on her own. It seemed an ideal opportunity to find out if I still had what it took.

It seemed I did.

Helga smiled, and I went over. That was when I learned her name, and established that she was German, that she had a week's solo holiday before going back to Berlin, that she had a black alsatian her father was looking after while she was away, and various other bits and pieces about her and her life. She also knew a good place to go and dance.

Dancing would keep my mind off Sarah.

While finishing my wine, back at the restaurant, the thought had crossed my mind that just maybe, I was wrong. That maybe there really was another guy.

Talking with Helga, my brain flashed a message that maybe, if the guy did exist, then they might already be heading to his flat, or hotel room, or wherever they would fuck.

Walking to the club, as well as liking that I could still pick up a stunning, tall, full breasted, German woman, I was also thinking that maybe my wife would soon be taking off her fuck me dress, and opening her fuck me legs to offer this guy her fuck me cunt.

Inside the club, Helga came close, and felt my rigid cock press against her denim. She gave me a knowing smile, thinking it was for her.

I stayed on low alcohol. I wanted to be able to perform later. Helga liked her vodka. Between ten and midnight she had three or four, on top of the ones she had already had back at the bar. Soon after midnight the below breast knot in her shirt came loose. She did not care. She just let the shirt hang open, not caring if the sides were wide enough to bare her breasts.

No one cared. They were impressive breasts, full, white, with three inch wide brown areoles and half inch proud stubs of nipples. No wonder I had felt those nipple stubs pressing against my chest, especially since Helga's left nipple had the twin steel balls of a bar-bell piercing, nestling on either side of it.

By then, I was more than in with a chance. Helga was offering herself on a plate, with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

I was still as rock hard as I had been when she first pressed against me in the club. Every so often my brain had reminded me that Sarah's tease might not have been a tease. She would have known that she could not play the same game twice. Teasing me with another fiction was a waste of time. Which meant that only way to tease for real would be to fuck for real.

Pictures of her, on her knees in front of some Spanish guy, or on her back beneath him, or on her hands and knees with him behind her, kept intruding in my head, and then Helga would wipe them all away with the loosely hanging sides of her denim shirt, and the caress of hard nipple stubs against my shirt.

We were dancing to some slower music when I saw Franco at the bar. Then Carlos. As a couple of other dancers moved to one side, I saw Sarah there as well, sipping what might have been white wine.

Helga noticed I was looking to the side, and turned to see what I was looking at. Her breast had been against my chest. Turning bared her nipple, the one with the bar-bell that went right through.

I read my wife's eyes, knowing that she had seen the exposed, pierced German nipple that I had just been teasing with my finger tips.

Sarah reached for Franco's shoulder, saying something. He looked at her for several seconds. Then he put his drink down on the bar and spoke to Carlos. A moment later, all three were gone.

I thought to follow. I also thought that at least I knew there was no other guy. Sarah with two gay Spanish guys was not a problem. My problem was that she had just seen me with a German girl who liked to bare her breasts. Dancing close. My hand level with her breast. Not just any breast. A breast with a stiffly erect, pierced nipple between two glinting balls of steel on either side.

That was when Helga asked the question.

"We fuck me later, yes, or do I find another guy?"

I apologised. I said to find another guy, that that had been my wife.

She gave me an 'are you mad?' kind of look. Then she caressed my hard on through my trousers, said something about my wife being a lucky woman, and moved away, retying her shirt, and scanning the club for other, single guys.

I left, hoping to catch sight of Sarah and the guys. I needed to get things straight, to apologise, and hope that my wife would not think that what she had seen had been anything had been more than it was, a mild diversion that would have led to nothing.

No Sarah. No guys. Nowhere in sight. I swore to myself. All I could do was head back to the hotel.

It was close to one. Our room was empty, just as we had left it. I wondered how long Sarah would give it before returning. I thought about Helga as I undressed, regretfully, in more ways than one. Regret that Sarah had seen us, of course. Regret also that I had not been free to enjoy that svelte German body, to suck on that pierced nipple, and to discover what lay beneath those denim shorts, smooth like Sarah, or jet black curls to match her German mane, a slit, or protruding labia, maybe another piercing to match her bar-bell, a ring perhaps, set through fleshy labia. I would never know.

Just to be clear, I never would have know anyway, even if Sarah and the Spanish guys had not turned up, I would not have gone there. Helgaas a distraction on the dance floor was fine, but I was not about to be unfaithful. I would have wanted to, but reluctantly, I would still have told Helga 'no'.

I cleaned my teeth, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. I just wanted Sarah back. It was time to end the games.

I sank onto the bed, getting under the cotton sheet that was all that was needed in the warmth of a Spanish night. I used the master switch on the headboard to turn off the main lights, and left on just the bedside lamp on Sarah's side. It was not part of the plan, but I fell asleep, and did not wake until Sarah kissed my shoulder.

"Hi," she said.

My back was to her, and I could feel her breasts soft against me, her nipples hard, her hand reaching over me, feeling for my cock.

I might have gone to sleep, but that one part of me had not. My cock was still as hard as it had been with Helga, as if it had been thinking, all the time that I had been sleeping, that Sarah was letting someone else do to her what my cock had been waiting to do, ever since Franco's text that morning.

"Hi," I managed to say, still half asleep.

"Who was she?" she asked.

"Just someone I met."

"You seemed pretty close."

"It wasn't anything."

"So you weren't fondling her nipple?"

"Okay, yes, but that was all."

"Was it pierced? I couldn't see."

"Yes."

"Did you like that?"

"If I'm honest, then yes," I said. "But it was just a bit of play."

"So you didn't plan to fuck her?"

"No."

"What happened then?"

"I came out and looked for you. I didn't see you, so I just came back here."

"So you really didn't get a fuck?"

"No."

"I did."

All the time we had been talking, Sarah had been holding my cock, her fingers around the shaft, slowly moving up and down. So when my cock twitched in reaction to those two words, she sensed it.

"I wasn't planning to," she said, "but when I saw you with that slut I decided to. Franco and Carlos are bi. I let them fuck me."

My cock gave another involuntary twitch. My heart was doing the same pounding thing that it had done that morning. My head was saying no, she was just saying it. She was punishing me again, playing me, and maybe I deserved it.

"How was it?" I asked.

"You don't mind?" Sarah asked.

"I guess it's only fair," I said. "You really had both of them?"

By then I was awake enough to reach for my watch. It was something after four. More than three hours since she had caught me in the club. More than enough time.

"I wouldn't have, but you seemed so okay with my letting some guy fuck me, and then when I saw you ..."

Listening to her, and feeling her hand slowly but steady stroking up and down on my cock, I liked the way she was still using her imagination to turn me on, and I was by then awake enough to be ready to turn around and take her.

"So they're not gay?" I asked before I turned.

"Bi," she said.

Something about the way she said it rang an alarm bell. It was the shortest possible answer she could give. No complicated explanation. They were bi-sexual, that was all. Simple.

I turned around. She kept hold of my cock, bringing her hand between us instead of around me. I put my arm around her and looked into her eyes.

"So how was it, having two gay guys?" I asked, still not really believing her.

"Good," she said. "But not as good as having you, having the guy I love, even he picks up other women."

"They both fucked you?"

She nodded ever so slightly, her head moving on the pillow. She was still looking into my eyes, not breaking off contact, not looking to one side for inspiration in a story she was making up.

"On the floor, and then in bed."

This time I said nothing, and just waited to see what else my wife would say. It took a moment, but then she went on.

"First Franco got me to suck him, on my hands and knees. While I was doing it, Carlos went behind me. It felt amazing, two cocks, both at once."

I still did not believe her, but she was quite convincing.

"Later, they did it the other way around, on Franco's bed. I sucked Carlos, while Franco fucked me."

"Really?" I said. "Even though ..."

I was trying to convey the total disbelief I had in what she was telling me, and that I knew that there was no way that she would risk two guys both coming inside her when anything could happen.

"I was angry, " she said. "I wouldn't have let them do it bare, if I hadn't seen you with her like that."

I kissed her forehead, still disbelieving every word.

"It's okay," I said.

On principle I am always willing to be okay with anything that never happened.

"Show me," Sarah said.

"Show you what?" I asked.

"Show me it's okay. Go down on me." she said. "Show me you don't mind I let them come in me."

I have never minded going down, whether on Sarah, or any of the women I enjoyed before I met her. Using my tongue to give pleasure is almost as pleasurable for me, unless, of course, I bring her to orgasm, in which case her pleasure is greater than mine, but it is still incredible satisfying giving her that pleasure.

Sarah turned onto her back.

I moved down and between her legs, parting them even more, and running my fingers down the sides of her pussy, where her labia protruded, and where, if I were honest, they looked thicker, and reddened, as if they had been abused. Maybe she had done that to herself.

I eased her labia apart with my fingers, lowered my head, and ran my tongue in the crevice between those parted labia, right to her clit. She moaned. Giving pleasure is a pleasure. Except she tasted bitter.

I knew that taste. I had licked her often enough after coming in her myself. The taste of come is bitter, my come, or in this case, someone else's. My wife had someone else's semen in her cunt. She had played for real, even though the stakes were high. Gambling her egg against someone else's sperm.

FUCK!! Fuck, fuck and fuck!! FUCK!!

This was supposed to have been a game. A wind up. I already knew for sure, but even so I checked, running my tongue between her labia a second time. There was no question. I could taste the come. Franco's? Carlos'? Or both? FUCK!!

This was supposed to be the holiday where we were seeing what happened, letting nature take its course. That was what had got me that other night, a week ago, when she had said that she was meeting Franco, that she might let him fuck her without protection, while any day around then, around now, she could be fertile. And now she really had let him, let them, fuck her. FUCK!!

A week ago it had been a wind up. Or so I thought. Maybe it had not been. Maybe Franco and Carlos turning up on the beach as boyfriends had just been a cover. Maybe.

But this time there was no maybe. My wife's cunt tasted of come. This was serious. Whether it was another guy, or Franco, or Carlos, or both Franco and Carlos, Sarah had Spanish semen, tasting of bitter olives from a bar top tapas, coating her labia, and had let one, or two, Spanish men spurt their sperm inside her, sperm that would still be flicking their Spanish tails, seeking out an egg, any egg, because sperm do not care whose womb they are swimming in. They just swim back and forth, ready to push through the egg wall with their Spanish sperm heads, and kick-start cells into dividing and dividing. Any egg will do. My wife's fertile egg would do just fine. Muchas gracias! FUCK!!

I stopped what I was doing. I moved myself up Sarah's body, taking my weight on my arms, looking down at her.

"You actually let them come inside?" I asked, incredulous that she had taken such a risk.

"It's fine," she said. "Franco said so. They've both had the snip."

"And you believed him?"

"He knew we were trying," Sarah said. "I told him last week while he was putting my highlights in. I don't think he'd have lied."

"FUCK!!"

That was the first time that I had said it out loud.

It was possible of course. They were both in their fifties. They might both have been circumcised. It was also possible that Franco had lied. That he had just wanted to fuck Sarah without any latex inconvenience. Why would he worry? They had an English "cono" they could fuck, and she was married with a husband. What did it matter if they came inside her? It would be her husband's problem.FUCK!!

Maybe he even got off on fucking fertile tourists. Maybe he liked to see himself as a bull, a thrusting Spanish bull, whose cojones he liked to empty into the cunt of any English, Dutch and German woman who would lie back and part her legs. Maybe he liked it that Sarah and I were trying for a family. Maybe it turned him on that she was fertile, and that we might fly home to England his Spanish sperm inside her egg, bringing it to life, making a real cuckold of the husband. FUCK!!

I lowered myself. My cock found its way all on its own. It slid into her. Deep. Deep enough to feel the difference in the way she felt. Not quite as tight. Wetter. Not just wet in the sense of sliding smoothly, but more than that. How many fucking times had they come in her?

I asked her.

"Two," she said. "No, maybe three," correcting herself.

"Altogether?" I asked.

"Each," she said. "Maybe,... I'm not sure,... maybe Carlos came one more time. I think he might have."

It no longer sounded as if she was making it up, and I could not see why she should. Even if it had been just one guy, coming once inside her, she knew that I would have tasted the come from between her lower lips. But five times? Twice each and maybe Carlos one more time? No. She had to be making that up. I hoped.

That was when I started fucking her. I mean really fucking her, the way the fucking slut deserved to be fucked. I hammered into her. Absolutely no fucking mercy. She might be a fucking slut but she needed to know whose fucking slut she was. She was my fucking slut. Mine, not theirs. She was wearing my ring. Her pussy belonged to me. Her cunt was mine.

Incredibly, all Sarah did was beg me to keep fucking her. He wrapped her arms and legs around me, gasping with each of my thrusts, but still telling me to fuck her harder. She kissed my neck and chest, sucked on my nipples, gripped my buttocks with her spayed fingers, and urged me on with every moan and cry.

I did exactly as she asked, not because she was asking me, but because in my head my cock was an instrument of punishment. I fucked her hard, fast and furious, until she was crying and whimpering and begging me to come inside her, and then I gave her what she was begging for, and spewed my pent up sperm deep into her, into my wife's cunt, into my fucking slut wife's cunt, into the pussy that I adored.

We slept afterwards. I held her tight. Spoons.

Her buttocks turned to my groin.

I woke in the morning, my brain working overtime. I had said that it was okay with me, although when I said it I had not realised that she had actually let them fuck her. I had been thinking it was just made up. Now I knew, but it still had to be okay. I wanted her.

Maybe there was actually something to be admired. I had been impressed that after that day when I had thrown her bikini bottom in the sea, Sarah had continued to go naked on the beach, a normal 'textile' beach. She had sunbathed naked every day since then, getting an all over tan, and she had swum naked, and even played more beach tennis naked. She had broken the rules, and I had been impressed.

In a way, I was also impressed that my wife, petite and vulnerable looking as she was, had let these two Spanish guys do what they did to her. How many wives would do that? It was against the rules. She had broken the rules, and while I was still concerned that one of the guys might not have been firing blanks, in some crazy way, I had to admire her for her daring.

Still lying in spoons, I kissed Sarah's shoulder. She gave an appreciative moan, snuggling back towards me. We would be okay. It would be nice to know for sure though. Had it been both guys? Both at once? Or was she just saying that? Maybe I would never know for sure.

That last day, we did not make breakfast. We fucked most of the morning. What is it about some other guys fucking you wife that makes you want to fuck her all the more? And makes her want it more as well?

We did hit the beach that afternoon, but by six we were back in bed, fucking like rabbits.

Sarah wore the same black silk dress to dinner. Whether she was deliberately reminding me of what had happened the night before, or just wearing it again because she looked so good in it, I still kept picturing her on her hands and knees, sucking Franco's cock, while Carlos wasshafting her from behind.

It was Sarah's idea to go to the club where she had caught me with Helga. To my relief, Helga was not there. While we were dancing, Sarah asked how Helga's shirt had ended up hanging open. I said I did not know, and she said that probably, she had done it on purpose, to turn me on. Then she asked me if it had worked, adding that she had seen my cock was hard.

The truth was that I had been hard from wondering about Sarah had been doing, but I did not tell her that. Instead I just said maybe.

In answer, Sarah gathered the silk front of her dress, which you will remember was not just backless, but was cut close to her breasts on either side. She bunched it at her neck, so that it was tight over her breasts, then moved her hand down, drawing the silk between her breasts, baring them.