Header image courtesy of Photo by Alexandra Tran of Unsplash
No Man is an Island is a continuation of Time on His Hands, but can be enjoyed as a standalone.
I’m not sure if the bay is as blue as I think or if it’s the contrast to the surrounding white buildings makes it appear so. The sky is a completely different and lighter shade than the sea, and yet, even as dark as the salty water is, I need to shield my eyes from the sun’s blinding rays.
A breeze blows off the shore, whipping my hair behind me. My dress’ long skirt ruffles around my ankles. I’m bare beneath and the cool air on my overheated skin is a welcome relief. Greece is hot. In every sense of the world.
Since his retirement, my husband has been unable to keep his hands to himself, but since our arrival on the whitewashed island of Santorini, he’s been insatiable. Each day seems to bring a new fantasy to the table. I’m not complaining. Retirement looks good on him. I look good on him. He looks great on me.
I stand at the balcony, binoculars held in place. Now that I no longer spend my days inside a confining cubicle, I’ve formed a new hobby. People watching.
Fishermen scour the sandy shores, bringing in the day’s catch. Farther down the beach a family plays in the crystal scattered waves. Across the bay, a woman tans, her golden legs stretched out before her, naked breasts pointed to the heavens.
The sea reaches seemingly forever, although I know it ends a mere hundred miles or less. A new land to explore laid before us in almost every direction. A hundred, a thousand new fantasies waiting to become memory.
The sound of a chair scraping over the plaster alerts me I’m no longer alone. I turn my head, the binoculars still held to my eyes, to find a man, across the way, in an adjoining building, watching — us? — through the window.
My husband clears his voice.
“Take off your dress.”
Putting the binoculars down, I look over my shoulder at my husband then back at the window. Our observer leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, mouth set in a hard line. Eyes certainly aimed in our direction.
Turning in place, I reply, “there’s a man… Left, third floor. I think he’s watching us.”
My husband glances over, moving nothing more than his eyes and quickly returns them to me. When he does, they’re full of mischief.
“He’s watching you. My wife, a beautiful woman. Let him watch. If he wants to take pleasure in my taking pleasure of you, let him be. Besides, a few days and we’ll be long gone, and you’ll never see him again. Now, take off your dress.”
His smile is charming, but his voice is hard, and the combination makes my insides turn to liquid. I’ve come to love this fun, yet demanding side of him. But I’m unsure about this new scenario. I look back at the open space in the plastered wall, and the man standing within. He’s still watching.
My husband’s firm voice directs my attention. “I know the idea excites you. Your nipples are hard and you’re squirming where you stand, trying to rub away the ache that’s formed between your legs. You know I can do that for you. But first, you’ll have to take off your dress.” His eyes gleam, a dare dancing within. But he’s right, the idea does excite me. A pool of warmth has formed low in my belly as proof.
Tentatively, I untie the slender straps at my shoulders and let the thin material flutter to the ground. The ocean breeze caresses my sun kissed flesh, pebbling my nipples to painful points. Moisture dampens my upper thighs at the thought of a stranger’s eyes on me as I undress.
“Crawl to me.”
My eyes snap to his. I swallow, a question marking my face. Are you sure? His eyes answer; hooded and full of arousal. Fuck, yes. He looks hungry enough to eat me and that has me dropping to my knees.
The plaster scrapes my hands with each creeping inch. My hips sway exaggeratedly as I do my best to eliminate the impact of hard stone on my naked knees. With every stride, I feel the heat of the onlooker’s gaze caressing my feminine center. The gentle wind cools my over-heated core, while the sun warms my backside. The combined sensation has my pussy weeping and spurs me on.
As I reach my husband’s feet, I run my hands up his calves to his thighs. He’s bound tight with tension, excitement held firmly under control, yet he appears at ease, hands resting comfortably on the arms of the chair. He’s quiet while I take in his fit form clad in sandy colored linen pants, his chest bare.
When my eyes meet his, his voice is gruff, almost strained.
“Take me out.”
I raise an eyebrow, but the tent in his pants is all the answer I need.
Beneath the button of his khakis, I find him nude. His cock is hard and proud, and almost bounces from his fly, as eager to greet me as I am it. I stroke his length, running my thumb over the tip as a line of pre-cum drools out.
“Suck.”
With pleasure, I take him to the back of my throat. We’ve done this a lot since we began or new adventure. I take pride in a job well done and am rewarded with a hiss, and an involuntary jerk of his hips.
My husband lets me continue well past the time his hands would usually tangle in my hair. From the corner of my eye, I can see his hands tightening on the chair, until his knuckles are white and the veins in his powerful hands bulge. As he releases a loud groan, I swallow around him, humming as I do, before pulling back and flicking my tongue over the head.
“Enough!” He sounds a man on the verge of losing control. “Stand up, turn around.” When I do, he guides me, until the backs of my knees connect with his and I fall gracelessly into his lap, then returns his hands to their apparent relaxed position.
His cock nestles between my folds, a velvet rod, hot against my moist center. Instinct has me rocking my hips, my fluids easing the friction. Every push back arches my spine and presses the crown of his cock against my clit.
“Look at your admirer. He likes what he sees.”
I look up at the window. The man still watches, but his face is shadowed with lust, his arms no longer tight around is chest. One rests on the top of the frame, holding his weight as he leans forward, the other is tightened in a fist at his side, like he’s trying to hold himself back from using it. Our eyes connect, and my breath catches when he nods at me and gives me a sexy grin.
Finally, my husband pulls me against him with one arm across my chest, hand claiming my opposite breast. The other focuses on my center. Expert fingers circle the hard nub, the crown of his cock nudging my sodden entrance.
“Put me inside you.”
His voice is rough, like chewed gravel.
A shift of my hips and he’s seated hard and hot and heavy. The stretch is delicious. The fullness heaven.
“Watch him as I fuck you. Think of him wanting you, but not being able to do more than look. He can’t touch you.” My husband cups my breast before tweaking the nipple until I moan. “He can’t sink his cock into your cunt and feel you gripping him.” My husband pulls his hips back and thrusts forward, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes me squeak. “He can’t taste you.” Teeth sink into the space where my neck meets shoulder. His tongue peeks out to lick the mark away. “He can’t feel you come around him.” His fingers circle my clit in a frantic rhythm. I look up at the window, the man is still there. He licks his lips but keeps watching.
My husband hurries his thrusts, matching them to the pace of his wrist. I watch the interloper. His eyes bore into where my husband and I connect. He watches intensely, one hand adjusting the length inside his shorts. A second rub confirms he’s stroking himself, and I moan loudly, thinking of him taking his pleasure from me.
“Or maybe you’d want him to touch you.” His finger latches onto my nipple, pinching until pain turns to pleasure. “Maybe you’d want him to fuck you. Maybe you’d want both off us to fuck you? One of us here.” His thrusts become long and sensual, defining his question. “And one here.” The two fingers that were rubbing my clit sink into my mouth, filling my senses with my essence. His digits mimic the movement of his fingers. Still my eyes watch our spectator as he fondles his length.
“Or maybe, you’d like one of us here?” My Husband asks, a mischievous tone lacing his words.
The fingers that had latched to my nipple, tickle the entrance to my anus, a single tip pushing against the tight ring. It feels wrong, but it feels very right and the idea of a hard cock deep inside that most forbidden place sends me over the edge. My hips thrust once, then twice, and I’m coming.
I clamp my eyes shut, and my husband grabs me by both hips and drills his length into me feverishly. Before I’ve even opened my eyes, I feel him swell impossibly large inside me, and his cock jerks as he releases.
He rests his head on my back, panting breaths blanketing my shoulders. When I look up at the window, I find it empty and can’t help my smile. That was… amazing! But of course, I worry.
“That was incredible. But didn’t it bother you? To have someone watch us? Or to know I was thinking about someone else fucking me?” I desperately want him to say no, because I certainly would like to try this again.
He’s still a minute. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but assured.
“If you were going to leave me for another man, I’m sure you would have done it when I worked eighty hour weeks. Besides, no man can expect to build the world alone. Sometimes you have to ask for a hand. I assume that works for fulfilling fantasies too. In this situation, I’d say he got something equal if not greater in value. But I’m the real winner.”
The euphoria strumming through my veins says I might be the real winner, but I let him have it and ask “how’s that?” turning in his lap to look at him.
“I’ve just discovered at least three new fantasies to add to my Bucket List.”
There’s more to come in the Bucket List Series. Stay Tuned!
No Man is an Island is linked to Mmm Monday’s. For more tales to make you say Mmm, lick the lips.
This tale is also linked to Erotic Fiction Deluxe, for this week’s prompt: Come Here. Check it out to see more come-hither fiction.
For more Wickedness the Wednesday, hit the Bullseye!
Like this tale? Check our more Erotic Fiction here.
It’s nice that they have so many new fantasies.
Probably, this viewer would like to join the couple. But, his destiny is to be a spectator. However, he did his part to increase the emotionality of the moment.
This is so hot. I love the voyeur aspect, the exhibitionism, but also that they are an older couple. And, beautifully written!
~ Marie xox
Such a sexy fantasy! How lovely they’re still exploring even after retirement 🙂