A Word From The Author:
We’re back home after enjoying a wonderful vacation in Cuba. @MrsBr_Saiph had purchased a new string bikini for this holiday, which I found very distracting while trying to write. So, what else could I do but write about it, and her?
~~~~~
The Bikini
The surf lapped at the shoreline as he lapped at her pussy. It was a calm day and the surf languidly played with the sand, whereas he was eager and impatient with her pussy. His tongue pressed into the gusset of her bikini, then moved it aside so he could do that which she always insisted he do. He’d already licked up the tiny grain of sand lounging atop her bikini, a little to the right of the valley between her legs. A valley that had throughout time led more than one legion to war in a quest to kneel before its grandeur.
He wasn’t necessarily impatient to swallow the other man’s cum, but it was what needed to be done if he wanted the prize, and so he was eager to get there. Her sweet juices would only coat his tongue and slip down his throat if they were preceded by the other man’s seed. It was thick and still hot, and today it was saltier than usual, perhaps because of the lunch he’d prepared for them earlier.
Perhaps impatient wasn’t quite the correct word. Perhaps ‘hastily’ was a better fit, for he never enjoyed this part of the bargain, but it was required by Her, to please Her, and therefore he did what he had to do. For Her.
Rushing through it was allowed, and so he did because slurping another man’s seed from his wife’s pussy was never something he could brag about to his friends, nor think about as he stared in the mirror the next day. He lapped, and swallowed, trying not to think about what he was doing to be a good husband, for Her.
His dick throbbed in his cage as he took in the close-up visual of the little black string bikini he’d bought her just for this trip. He’d worked some overtime to pay for it because that store was never cheap. The other man liked black, not because he was Black, but because of how it accentuated her white skin. So, he’d bought her the black one. If it had been for his own pleasure he may have picked out the yellow, or perhaps the white, but it had not been for him. It was never about him, nor should it be.
It had been for Him, and Her.
The sun was shining bright, and the cool breeze was heralded by the goosebumps rising up to embrace it from the flesh just above her bikini line. Individual bumps formed a chanting crowd egging him on with fervid voice, coming together as one.
“Lick!”
And he did.
“Suckle!”
And he did.
“Nibble!”
And he did.
“Now, swallow!”
And he did.
The crowd of goosebumps celebrating her flesh cheered him on as he lapped up the other man’s cum from his wife’s pussy.
The material stretched over her lips, caressing them in a gentle embrace, full of awe and appreciation for the gift that they were, simply by existing. The light chased the shadows over the folds, vying for his attention. He savored every inch of the bikini as it traced the contours of her flesh, appreciating how it drew out the very best of her, as his tongue strove so desperately to do the same.
She moaned and moved her hips ever so slightly, urging him to press his tongue a little more ‘that way’, as opposed to where it had errantly strayed. Could she fault him, for wanting to explore every inch of her, whilst in turn perhaps not entirely doing all he could to satisfy her the way she wanted? Perhaps. Well, actually the correct answer was ‘Yes’, but he was still a man, albeit a denied man, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself. All of her was delicious, and all of her was enticing. All of her was divine. All of her called to him, every time, even if it was slathered in another man’s cum, and he could not resist. Her flesh was a siren, beckoning him in the middle of the night, and in the bright mid-day sun at the beach. Her call was music to his ears, but it was not his ear that listened. It was his heart (and his dick that she did not need and thus kept locked in its immutable and unyielding steel prison).
His heart sang for her, yearned for her, rejoiced in all that She was, and he was grateful. He was grateful for living his best life with her. He swallowed again, and then licked the last remnants of her lover from her pink lips. He took one last lick, savoring the taste of her that he’d so fervently sought, and then stood up. He was about to turn away, to go clean up the kitchen he’d sullied in his desire to please her with a good meal, and of course her lover.
“Did we forget something?”
Her tone was playful, but the look in her eye was anything but. If there was one thing she would not condone, it was bad manners.
He blushed, and momentarily looked down. He was embarrassed on many levels, the least of which was forgetting himself in the presence of her lover.
He drew a breath and looked up, resolute in his commitment to her, and to being the very best version of himself he could be. For her.
He turned his gaze to the beautiful Black man whom she freely and unabashedly called’ lover’ in front of him, her husband, and her cuck. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the aftertaste of the man who now stared at him expectantly. The man knew his wife, far more intimately in ways most men never would of a married woman, and more importantly he knew and understood the dynamic the husband and the wife he was fucking, shared.
It didn’t make what he was expected to do any easier, but it helped. Knowing the other man understood very well, the relationship they three all shared, made it just that little bit more palatable as he spoke. As he submitted to the lifestyle he’d urged his wife to embrace, and now had to fully embrace himself, because the choice was no longer his.
“Thank you, Sam, for fucking my wife, and pleasing her in ways I never could.”
The End.
Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published work can be found <here>
B.R.Saiph 