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The break had been planned for a long time, a very long time but like most things in a marriage had been put on hold for, well the things that make up a marriage — work, kids, illness, work, kids…with the inevitable risk mundanity would wipe away the time we had planned.

But finally here we were, luxuriously ensconced in a suite that we normally would not have dared to even think about, let alone charge to our small company’s expenses in the name of an obscure conference that helped get it over the line with the accountant, and the taxman.

Not perched high on the floor of some skyscraper, but only two floors up, set back alongside dense tropical bush, tasteful wooden Balinese art on the walls, a bowl of tropical fruit and a scent of vanilla candles — we weren’t looking for butler type service luxury, just a retreat from the rush and the busyness that’s life.

Setting the bags down you looked over at me with a vague smile on your face, as you reached out and gently grabbed my belt, drawing me closer, sliding the flat of your hand down the front of my shorts, placing two fingers in a V either side of my cock, and proceeding to gently raise and lower your hand.

I leant back on the room’s little writing desk, the cane surface creaking as I did, pushing my hips forward to promise you enough space to conduct your spontaneous frontal massage.

I could feel the solid head of my cock swelling wonderfully, the gland mushrooming under the soft foreskin, so I let you unbutton the cotton shorts and slide them down and off, along with my boxers.

“ahhh, now that’s better,” you grinned, dropping to your knees and nuzzling the heavy head between your lips. I sighed with delight as you eased it into your mouth, gently suckling the growing head, lightly running your teeth over its surface, the light bite quickening the rate of swelling into a burst of throbbing cock head.

I relished looking down beyond the ravishing your lips were conducting upon my rod, seeing your generous cleavage dark and alluring through the lacy bra beneath your silky blouse. The gold chain around your neck was gently swinging to and fro, in time with the suckling action you were intensifying upon my hard flesh.

You relinquished cupping my balls with one hand but without breaking your gentle sucking you undid the top three buttons on the blouse, allowing me to see the gorgeous swell of your tits overflowing the top of your expensive lace bra, and just make out the stiffening nipples that lay within it. I reached down to try and massage your soft flesh, but you commandingly pushed my questing hands away.

“I think I want your tits around my cock,” I mumbled thickly.

Without taking my cock out of your mouth, you looked up at me, grinning around its turgid thickness as you firmly stroked the solid shaft and cupped my balls with your other hand.

“You will just have to wait ’til I’ve had enough of doing this,” and relocked your red lips, sucking much of its length down your throat before easing the slick shaft out and just nibbling around the single eye that gazed out.

I had grown so hard you were able to roll the foreskin back over my gland, its shiny wet head reflecting the light from the window, twitching as you ran your tongue over and around its bald top. You pulled back for a moment to lick your index finger, wagging it enticingly at me and I knew exactly where it was bound.

Gently you inserted it to the first join into my ass-hole, wriggling it as you suckled my cock, the action making me feel like it could burst at any moment — before you expertly eased back on the action, bouncing the impeding explosion from its brink. You repeated the action half a dozen times, each time drawing me closer to a messy cum soaked explosion, just before withdrawing.

“Wait a moment,” you commanded, and finished unbuttoning the blouse, dropping it in a silky pile and then unclipping your bra, your beautiful C cups falling free, nipples thrust out with desire.

You offer them up towards me with both hands, a gift of woman flesh, the beautiful pink nipples pointing straight at me, imploring me to suck, lick and nibble.

“So, you’d like to fuck my tits, is that what you were talking about?” you ask with a mocking look on your face. I don’t even answer, and draw you to me, my thick cock sliding between your warm welcoming breasts.

“Whoa, hold on a minute, got something that can make this even better” you tell me.

You reach for some lube in your nearby toilet bag.

You squeeze a generous stream across my cock and your tits, gently massaging it into both, causing tingles of delight shooting through my rod as I enjoy the vision as much as the sensation.

You crouch before me as I bend my knees and lower my member before your lush mounds. I place my hands on each of your shoulders for support as I begin gently tit fucking you. The warm oil and the gentle poke of your nipples on the tops of my thighs are delightful — you sigh and look up at me with a lewd grin, gently pushing kadıköy escort your chest forward in time with my oily thrusts.

As my swollen cock pops up as far as it could you met it with the tip of your tongue, swirling it around the pink eye before I slide back down again — it’s an action that was not going to lend itself to me lasting very long.

“I want you to come like this, shoot that load all over me, over my tits and body,” is not a command to ignore.

I was feeling far from mutinous as I felt that surge of orgasm start to pulse at the base of my hairy, throbbing shaft.

I drove harder against your chest, pulling you close and tight to me, my balls slapping and oily against the bottom of your tits.

With a slight animal grunt I pause, long enough to gently ease you onto the rattan floor, your delicious chest before me as you once again clasp my cock firmly between your tits, pushing your hands tight against them, a delicious fleshy cleavage slickly massaging me.

Looking down at my rosy rod wrapped around your pale chest, I only had two more thrusts in me before warm juice surged through the single eye of my cock — it jerked in your cleavage, a hot fountain of pale, creamy cum spurted up your little fleshy valley, over the base of your neck, gushed across your gold chain, dropping a dollop on your chin. Much of it was massaged into your tits by the continued thrusts of my cock, even as it softened and dwindled.

I grunted and moaned with delight, enjoying the twitching warmth of your body beneath me as my cock grazed over your stiff nipples and smooth mounds.

“Mmmmmmm, it’s just so nice to have that massaged into me -warm and sticky-yummmy,” you muttered.

I eased my cock from between your breasts, strings of cum making it sticky, the scent of spent sperm between us, and I wriggled down your body, our legs intertwined, arms wrapped loosely around each other in a relaxed stupor.

You pulled my mouth to yours, a hot kiss as our tongues massaged one another.

You then broke off the kiss and scooped some of the warm cum from your breasts, licking it off your finger, wetly sucking it up, returning your lips to mine, the salty jism shared between us, sealing our steamy escapade.

It was so damn sexy, my cock twitched despite only just softening, sensations filed away for another time when I needed to find relief alone.

We lay stuck to one another, jet lagged but satiated on the floor, dozing off together in the tropical warmth of our room as the waves on the reef beyond the resort peeled and crashed into the afternoon haze.

Some time later we stirred, the deep patterns of rattan floor mat marked into our skin, our bodies sweaty in the tropical humidity, soaked and scented with cum, so we slipped into the cool tiled shower to wash ourselves down.

I stood behind you, gently soaping my dried cum from your neck, beasts and stomach, trying to avoid the inevitable hardening of my cock, rising against your fleshy round butt.

“No, leave it, just soap me and try not to turn this into a fuck fest,” you order. So I do, enjoying the close intimacy without someone, work, kids, clients, wanting our attention.

You dry off, slipping into a skimpy white G string and lacy bra, pulling a tight colourful knee length skirt on, finished with some stylely strappy heels, not too high, but enough to gently firm the swell of your calves.

A little lippy and some perfume completed a perfect combination of tropical style and femininity — it was leaving me slightly breathless at how good you looked, how lucky I was.

“So, shall we shoot out for a drink, or two? I am thinking cocktails by the pool.”

“You are so dangerous, anyone would think you were on holiday or something — lets’ go.”

When it comes to holidays I am not really the one to sit around by the pool — boring comes around quick, and it becomes more stressful than restful as my mind starts promulgating reasons to go back to work, to wonder what is going to happen with the business, how long we might stay cash positive, will we hold it together? Etc etc…all up, not really very therapeutic.

For that reason we had chosen a surf resort on the end of a dirt road.

Despite the internet it was still relatively low profile, possibly helped by the hectic 2 hour drive from Denpasar.

It was not too remote, but not exactly on the doorstep of the packaged holiday flights from NZ or Australia.

It had the usual pool, bar dining room combination, but what sold it was the regular left hand break that spooled along the reef beyond the resort’s pool.

It was challenging without being ball squeezingly scary as it tumbled and rifled along for almost 100m.

It ran best at half to full tide, offering plenty of fun in the 24 deg water — heaven after the 15deg slap in the face at home you accepted as you paddled through a howling offshore for some scrappy little shards üsküdar escort of waves on a sloppy beach break.

The first day was almost surreal after escaping the prison of a wet southern winter — the water warmer than even expected, the waves cleaner, more perfect, shimmering and mechanical along the reef, with only a few of us out there, thanks to the distance from the crowded, cheaper holiday locations along the coast.

While I scooted along the green perfect waves, one of those other surfers out there caught my eye.

A woman, she must have been about 40-42, fit, strong with a graceful style on a longer board riding with an intense focus on what she was doing, the look of someone determined to get better at this most difficult of past times.

Her strong brown legs flexed and pumped the 6’8″ board easily, and it was hard not to appreciate the firm hard cheeks of her ass, swelling nicely from the ruck of her black bikini bottoms.

They had a decent curve to them, not overly skinny and worn well by someone not ashamed of her curves, happy to carry them into middle age, but caring enough to want to keep them.

We exchanged a couple of waves, a “hello” smile and little else all morning until the tide had gone out too far on the reef’s jagged surface to be more nasty than fun anymore.

Paddling in I saw you waiting on the resort’s deck, waving furiously and grinning as if you had not seen me for weeks — that was before I realised it was not at me but my attractive companion who I had been trading waves with all morning attracting your crazy waving.

“Lisa! Lisa, that’s you isn’t it — Lisa Stanton? I thought that was you out there!” you exclaim.

“Trish, Jesus, I have not seen you for sooooooo long,” – the newly discovered Lisa wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you, and for a moment you both locked lips, breaking off to look hard at one another, then at me the bemused bystander.

“Honey, this is Lisa, you know from uni who I’ve told you about. Lisa, this is my husband, father to my offspring, life partner etc etc…”

I offer my wet hand and we politely shake, and I take the moment to admire Lisa’s tight form — she’s shortish, probably about 5′ 5″ but fit, even strong, with good definition through her shoulders and upper arms — not the sort of weird high intensity circuit look that girls get, just a healthy attention to staying in shape and keeping the curves a woman’s body should have. Her warm, friendly face was framed by a nicely cut bob, with simple gold hoops in her ears and nice full brown lips.

Her breasts beneath the rash vest were firm, even sizey and she had a delightful parabola down to her hips, and they flare out nicely to form that delicious butt I could not help but notice out in the breakers.

Her legs were also strong, brown and muscled, the nicely defined calves and pretty feet, with well painted toenails I could just imagine rocking in a nice pair of summer shoes.

All up, a lovely package of femininity that looked even more complete alongside my gorgeous wife.

The two long lost friends proceeded to catch up with the intensity only women can, trading life stage stories, some involving me on my wife’s behalf, but as many not.

I was happy to grab a coffee from the breakfast offerings, wolf down some Bircher muesli and hit the waves as the tide turned, leaving the girls to their reminisces.

All I gathered from snatched pieces of conversations was “no kids”, “left the prick”, “business is good”, and “time for a break from it all”…enough to entertain assorted scenarios of where she had come from and where mid-life had taken her as I picked over the late morning’s waves.

This Lisa, she was someone I had only occasionally heard my wife speak about, usually in fond terms, but not overly detailed, despite the intensity that university relationships usually engendered.

She was the friend whose flat you had stayed in over summer, the one you had travelled with on a road trip to the South Island, the girl you’d spent the most wild nights out drinking — just the usual uni’ stuff.

But as I glanced up after kicking off another perfect wave I figured there must have been more.

Your conversation on the resort deck overlooking the break had seemed to get more and more intense — your eyes hardly broke contact for the hour or so you spoke to one another, and hands briefly lay upon hands as you leant in to talk.

Time had passed but obviously some sort of connection had not.

If I had not known who you both were I would have taken the body language as mutual attraction, even a long suppressed desire that your renewed contact in this tropical paradise was rekindling.

The more I glanced across the more intense you both appeared, eyes locked over the rims of breakfast coffee cups, a hand I could see from my angle gently pressing onto a firm thigh, stray hair flicked by one from the eyes of another.

This was ‘way more than old girl tuzla escort friends catching up again. There was some sort of electricity here that was recharging, and even I could see that from 50m away, surreptitiously glancing from my surf break.

Funnily enough, I was left intrigued rather than disturbed — was there something here I didn’t know about you, my long time wife, some sort of relationship you’d buried in your married subconscious, or simply chosen not to share with me.

It sparked a curious buzz, an intrigue.

Marriage and time bring a comfortable knowledge, a certainty, but it had also been something that lately had been making me jittery, even a little bored, despite knowing how lucky I was.

Then from that comes guilt about feeling that way, knowing you are luckier than most, that you don’t have a right to the luxury of boredom when so many relationships and their individual players are so damn wretched.

Then, just when you think there is absolutely nothing more to know about someone, something presents itself, not a terrible, wretched piece of insight, but more simply a curiosity of the past that may have passed the filter of intimacy and time untouched, like a nice gem lying on the river bed that suddenly winks to the surface in the sun. When things seem to have become a little too vanilla, there’s an intrigue thrown in to bend the flavour.

I paddle in, joyously tired but my mind working over time, tripping over the permutations of your rediscovered contact, what she means to you, what this means for us, if anything.

As I trot up to the dining deck to refuel I’m struck by how at ease two people who have not seen one another for 20-plus years are.

You are so often a woman who disavows female company, with all the complex innuendos and unspoken rules that seem to play within “girl time”.

But here you appear fully at ease, eyes alight, laughing and comfortable in the company of this newly re-discovered stranger.

In fact if she’d been a guy I would have sworn you were ex-lovers who had drifted rather than broken apart, and I would be more than a little edgy with jealousy.

Which opens the door a little further on another room I have not really visited- did you both play on the same team, in a sexual sense?

Our own love life has been generous, between the usual constraints of young children, working away and pregnancy, we have always managed to spark, and to me you’d always seemed 100% hetero.

But then what would I know — the things I do to you that you enjoy the most, bar the main one, there’s nothing to stop you having enjoyed it from a woman.

I know you love my tongue on your pussy, gently lapping up your moist slit to your stiff clit.

I know you love my ability to swirl that around in my mouth like a delicate little oyster, pinning your thighs firmly down as you surge against the press of my head between your legs, your moans confirming you enjoy receiving as much as I enjoy giving.

Also, many is the time I have gently massaged your million dollar G spot, beckoning with my fingers against its gentle rise inside your wet pussy, like a little internal clit that swells with every moan you emit, your juices slipping over my beckoning fingers which I rub onto my cock or I massage into your nipples with my other hand.

Then there’s that thing I do, that special gentle twirl with my tongue, when you are on all fours on the bed, your gorgeous fleshy butt before me, twin globes of woman flesh for me to enjoy as I like.

Pulling my slick cock out from you when you press back in that yoga like pose, those butt cheeks gently tautening, pulling your little rose bud of a butt hole into full view – that’s when I drop to the floor of our bedroom so you are directly before me, and I gently pull you towards me.

I push my head forward into that delicious fleshy moist valley, extend my tongue and gently, so gently twirl it around your butt hole, as I also gently stroke your sopping pussy.

I allow your cheeks to encase my entire face, and I gently grasp those delicious mounds and lap between them, my face glazing with your sweet juices, the scent of your heat filling my nostrils in a way no perfume can, as I lap between your hole and your pussy, both stretched and wanting my tongue, then I thrust my tongue into your pussy like a little cock, gently stroking it in and out, sometimes making you come in a moaning, sluicing wave from the sheer slick friction…

nope, that could all be done by a girl, I guess.

I lean in, give you a salty unabashed kiss on the lips, grinning at your surprise and delight, while Lisa looks on, happily continuing her conversation and relaxed at our intimacy.

“You must catch up with us for dinner tonight, come early and we’ll have cocktails on the deck, I still know what your favourite is, or was?” you say excitedly…whoa, don’t think I’ve seen that around anyone before…ever!…I think absently to myself, while reinforcing the invite with an eager nod.

The day passed in tropical bliss, the sun’s warmth playing through the bougainvillea around the huge pool, idle time spent reading and relaxing. But the holiday haze is underscored with a sense of anticipation for the evening, for being in the company of not one, but two delightful, sexy middle age women who were obviously into each other and one who was also into me.

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