The sun dipped low over the turquoise waves of Santorini, painting the whitewashed cliffs in hues of molten gold and crimson. Kevin and Moira had arrived that afternoon, their suitcases still half-unpacked in the airy villa perched on the caldera's edge. It was their first real holiday in years—no kids, no work emails pinging at all hours, just the two of them reclaiming the spark that had flickered but never quite died in their ten years of marriage.
At 38, Kevin was still lean and boyish, his dark hair tousled by the Aegean breeze, his blue eyes crinkling with that easy smile that had first charmed Moira back in college.
She, at 36, was a vision of voluptuous allure: her fiery red hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, framing a face dusted with freckles and lips that curved like a siren's promise. Her body was a masterpiece of soft curves—full, heavy breasts that strained against the thinnest of sundresses, hips that swayed with hypnotic rhythm, and an arse so round and plush it begged to be gripped. She'd always been his fantasy incarnate, and tonight, under the fading light, she looked like she belonged to the gods themselves.
They'd cracked open a bottle of Assyrtiko on the terrace, the crisp white wine loosening their laughter as they recounted inside jokes from their early days. But as the sky bruised purple, Moira's emerald eyes grew serious. She set her glass down with a soft clink and took Kevin's hand, her thumb tracing slow circles over his knuckles. "Baby," she murmured, her voice a husky lilt that sent a familiar shiver down his spine, "we need to talk."
Kevin's heart stuttered, but not from fear. He knew that tone—the one that promised mischief, the one that had led to their wildest nights tangled in silk sheets. "What's on your mind, love?"
She shifted closer on the cushioned lounge chair, her sundress riding up her thick thighs, revealing the creamy expanse of skin he'd kissed a thousand times. Leaning in, her breath warm against his ear, she whispered, "We talk about it. You read me stories about it. We watch porn about it. Well, it's time to stop pretending and make it happen. Since we are on holiday and no one knows us here, I'm gonna fuck another man and you're gonna watch."
The words hung in the balmy air like smoke from a forbidden fire. Kevin's cock twitched instantly in his linen shorts, a rush of heat flooding his veins. They'd danced around this fantasy for years—hotwife tales whispered in the dark, videos of confident women taking strangers while their husbands stroked themselves in the shadows. It was their dirty secret, the erotic undercurrent that kept their sex life electric. But hearing it from her lips, here in this sun-kissed paradise, made it real. Terrifying. Thrilling. "Moira... are you serious?" His voice was rough, already thick with arousal.
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her full lips parting in a wicked smile. "Dead serious, Kev. I've been wet all day thinking about it. Imagine it: some Greek god with olive skin and a thick cock, pounding me right here on this terrace while you sit there, hard as rock, touching yourself but not joining in. You'll see every inch of me stretched around him, hear me moan his name. And when he's done filling me up, you'll reclaim me; lick his cum from my pussy, fuck me sloppy and deep." Her hand slid to his thigh, nails grazing upward until her fingers brushed the bulge straining against his zip. She squeezed gently, drawing a groan from him. "Say yes, baby. Let me be your slut tonight."
He swallowed hard, his mind reeling with images: Moira's pale freckled tits bouncing as she rode a stranger, her red hair wild, her cries echoing off the cliffs. "Fuck, yes," he rasped, pulling her into a fierce kiss. Their tongues tangled hungrily, her curves pressing against him, but she broke away with a teasing nip to his lip. "Good boy. Now, let's go find him."
They dressed with purpose—Moira in a slinky black dress that hugged her hourglass figure like a second skin, the neckline plunging to showcase the swell of her 36DD breasts, the hem barely skimming her thighs. No bra, no panties; she winked at him in the mirror as she slipped into strappy heels that accentuated her calves, and he'd caught the flash of lace thigh-high stockings she'd donned in secret, a naughty surprise for the night. Kevin opted for a simple button-down and shorts, his erection a persistent throb he made no effort to hide. Hand in hand, they descended the winding path to the beachfront bar, the night air alive with the scent of salt and jasmine, bouzouki music drifting on the breeze.
The bar was a lively haze of lanterns and laughter, locals and tourists mingling over ouzo and meze. Moira's presence turned heads immediately; men stealing glances at the way her dress clung to her hips, women eyeing her with a mix of envy and curiosity. She led Kevin to a high-top table near the edge, overlooking the dark sea, and ordered rounds of tsipouro, the anise-flavored spirit burning sweet down their throats. "Scan the crowd with me," she murmured, her hand on his knee under the table, inching higher. "Who catches your eye for me?"
Kevin's pulse raced as he surveyed the room. There, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early forties, leaning against the bar with effortless charisma. Dark curly hair, a jawline chiseled from marble, and skin like burnished bronze. He wore a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a smattering of chest hair, his forearms corded with muscle from what looked like years of manual labor or perhaps yacht work. He laughed with the bartender, his deep voice carrying, and when his hazel eyes flicked toward their table, they locked on Moira. She felt it too, her nipples hardening visibly against the thin fabric of her dress. "Him," Kevin breathed, his cock aching. "The one with the curls. He looks like he could fuck you senseless."
Moira's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Watch this." She stood, smoothing her dress over her ample buttocks, and sauntered to the bar, her hips swaying in that deliberate, predatory way that always made Kevin's mouth go dry. He nursed his drink, heart pounding, as she leaned in close to the stranger, her laughter bubbling up like champagne. The man—Dimitri, she learned—turned fully toward her, his gaze raking over her curves with blatant hunger. Within minutes, she was gesturing animatedly, touching his arm, her body language screaming invitation. Kevin could see the flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs pressed together subtly.
She returned ten minutes later, Dimitri in tow, his hand possessively low on her back, fingers splaying just above the curve of her ass. "Kev, this is Dimitri. He owns a dive shop here, strong hands from wrestling with the sea all day." Her voice dripped with innuendo, and Dimitri extended a callused palm, his grip firm as he sized Kevin up with a knowing smirk. "Your wife is... captivating," he said in accented English, his eyes never leaving Moira's cleavage. They settled at the table, the air thick with tension. Moira sat between them, her dress riding up to expose the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings, her bare pussy lips brushing the stool beneath her with every subtle shift.
Conversation flowed like the wine: tales of shipwrecks and hidden coves from Dimitri, Moira's flirtatious questions drawing him out, her foot—sans heel—sliding up Kevin's calf under the table while her hand rested on Dimitri's thigh. Kevin watched, mesmerized, as she leaned into the Greek, her breast brushing his arm, her lips parting as she whispered something that made him chuckle low and dark. The tsipouro made everything hazy and electric; soon, Moira's hand was openly stroking Dimitri's inner thigh, inches from the growing bulge in his trousers. "Tell me," she purred, loud enough for Kevin to hear, "do all Greek men fuck like they sail? Rough and relentless?"
Dimitri's eyes darkened, his hand capturing hers and guiding it to his zipper. "Only for women like you, koukla mou." The sound of his fly rasping down was obscene in the dim light. Moira glanced at Kevin, her gaze molten. "Baby, he's huge. See how hard he is for me?" She freed Dimitri's cock right there at the table—thick as Kevin's wrist, veined and uncut, the head already glistening with pre-cum. It throbbed in her palm as she stroked him slowly, base to tip, her thumb smearing the slickness over the foreskin. Kevin's own erection strained painfully. A few patrons glanced over, but in this hedonistic corner of the island, no one blinked.
Dimitri leaned back, letting Moira's hand work him with languid pulls, his gaze shifting from her flushed face to Kevin's rapt attention. The Greek's expression turned serious, a predatory glint sharpening his features as he placed his free hand over Moira's, stilling her strokes for a moment. "Your wife... she tells me you want this. You want to see me take her, fill her with my cock while you sit idle." His voice was a gravelly rumble, carrying the weight of the sea, and he fixed Kevin with an unyielding stare. "But I need to hear it from you, Englishman. Do you really want this? Once I say yes, there is no going back. I will fuck her like she deserves—deep, hard, until she forgets your name. And you? You'll watch every thrust, every drop of my seed marking her as mine for the night. No regrets. No stopping halfway."
Kevin's throat tightened, the reality crashing over him like a wave. His cock pulsed in his shorts, betraying his excitement, but doubt flickered, a husband's primal instinct warring with the fire in his veins. Moira paused her stroking, her green eyes locking on his, silently urging him forward, her other hand slipping under the table to tease his zip in encouragement. The bar's hum faded to a distant buzz; it was just the three of them in this charged bubble. "I... yes," Kevin managed, his voice hoarse. "I want it. I want to see you fuck her."
Dimitri's lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin, but he wasn't done. He released Moira's hand, letting her resume her worship of his shaft. Slow, twisting pumps that made the veins bulge and pre-cum bead anew at the slit. "Not enough," he said, leaning forward, elbows on the table, his cock still exposed and glistening under Moira's touch. "Ask me. Ask me to fuck your wife. Say it clear, so she hears how much you crave her ruined by a stranger."
Heat flooded Kevin's face, humiliation twisting deliciously with arousal, his balls drawing tight at the command. Moira bit her lip, her strokes faltering as she watched him squirm, her thighs clenching visibly. "Please," Kevin whispered, then louder, forcing the words out like a vow, "Dimitri... fuck my wife. Take her pussy, make her yours tonight."
The Greek chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the table. "Better. But I want more. Beg me, cuckold. Beg like the man who knows he can't satisfy her alone. You can see my cock here, you know what it will do to her, for her so beg me to stretch her, to make her scream in ways you never could. If not there are plenty of other nubile young tourists here that I can fuck instead"
Moira's breath hitched, her free hand now openly palming Kevin's bulge through his shorts, squeezing in rhythm with her strokes on Dimitri. The dual torment pushed Kevin over the edge of restraint. "Please, Dimitri," he begged, voice cracking with need, eyes darting between the Greek's smug face and Moira's dripping excitement. "I beg you—fuck Moira. Pound her tight little cunt until she's sobbing. Give her what I can't. Breed her right in front of me. Please... make her your whore."
Dimitri's eyes gleamed with triumph, his cock twitching in Moira's grip at the raw submission. "Good man," he purred, finally guiding her hand away and tucking himself back with deliberate slowness, the outline of his erection straining his trousers like a promise. He took a swig of tsipouro, savoring the moment before leaning in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a intimate growl. "You know, I fuck tourists like her all the time—blondes from America, lithe Italians, eager Brits seeking the 'Greek experience.' They come to my shop for dives by day, but by night? They beg for my cock under the stars. And they always return, night after night, addicted. Especially once they learn my secrets."
He paused, his hand sliding to Moira's thigh, thumb tracing the lace edge of her stocking, dipping higher to brush her slick folds. She gasped softly, parting her legs just enough for him to tease her clit with a single, featherlight circle. "I'm multi-orgasmic, you see. Cumming doesn't end me; it fuels me. And this?" He palmed his bulge, the fabric tenting impressively. "I stay hard for hours. I can fuck her through three, four peaks before I even think of filling her. They'll stumble back to their hotels sore, marked, whispering my name in their dreams. But you... a married woman, in front of her husband? This is new for me. Virgin territory. Makes it all the sweeter—knowing I'll be the first to cuck you proper."
Moira moaned low at his words, her body arching into his touch, fingers digging into Kevin's thigh as Dimitri's finger slipped inside her, just one knuckle, pumping lazily. "Hear that, baby?" she breathed to Kevin, her voice wrecked. "He's a fucking machine. Gonna wreck me for you." The Greek withdrew his finger with a wet pop, bringing it to his lips and sucking her essence clean, eyes never leaving Kevin's. "Shall we, then? Your villa awaits."
"Let's take this back," Moira breathed, tucking Dimitri away with a promise-laden squeeze. The walk back was torture for Kevin, Moira sandwiched between them, Dimitri's arm around her waist, fingers dipping dangerously low, while she ground her arse back against him with every step. Kevin trailed behind, the sight of her dress hiked just enough to tease the underswell of her cheeks making his balls ache.
The villa door barely clicked shut before Moira was on Dimitri, shoving him against the wall with surprising force, her hands clawing at his shirt like a woman possessed. "Strip," she commanded, her voice a throaty growl laced with the raw edge of desperation.
He complied with a predatory smile, peeling off his shirt to reveal a torso sculpted by the relentless sun—rippling abs etched with shadows, dusted in a fine trail of dark hair that arrowed down to the waistband of his trousers, pectorals broad and firm, begging to be marked by teeth and nails. His trousers hit the floor next, that magnificent cock springing free like a weapon forged for conquest, curving upward in a lethal arc—easily nine inches of veined, olive-hued thickness, the uncut foreskin peeled back just enough to reveal a plum-colored head already weeping crystalline pre-cum, the scent of his musk hitting the air like a primal call. Moira turned to Kevin, who stood frozen in the doorway, pulse thundering in his ears, and pointed to the armchair by the bed. "Sit. Watch your wife get ruined."
Kevin sank into the chair, his shorts tented obscenely, hands gripping the arms until his knuckles whitened, every nerve alight with a cocktail of jealousy and lust that made his skin prickle. Moira peeled off her dress in a slow, deliberate reveal, the black silk whispering down her body like a lover's sigh, pooling at her feet to leave her gloriously naked save for the sheer lace thigh-high stockings that clung to her like a second skin, garters framing the pale, freckled expanse of her inner thighs. Her breasts tumbled free—heavy, pendulous orbs of creamy flesh crowned with dusky pink nipples already pebbled into aching peaks, begging for cruel twists and hungry mouths. Lower, her shaved pussy gleamed in the lamplight, lips swollen and parted like a blooming rose, slick with the evidence of her arousal, a single pearl of her nectar tracing a lazy path down her thigh.
Dimitri groaned in throaty Greek, a sound like gravel under boot heels, stepping forward to cup her tits in his rough, callused hands, thumbs circling those sensitive peaks with a deliberate slowness that made her gasp, her body arching into him like a bowstring drawn taut. The flesh yielded under his grip, soft and overflowing his palms, veins standing out on his forearms as he kneaded her with possessive fervor, pinching the nipples between thumb and forefinger until they flushed crimson, eliciting a whimper that curled through the air like smoke. "So full," he murmured, his accent wrapping the words in velvet menace, "like ripe fruit begging to be devoured." Then his mouth descended, hot and demanding, latching onto one nipple with a wet suck that echoed obscenely, his tongue lashing the peak in firm, swirling strokes while his teeth grazed the tender underside, tugging just enough to send sparks of pain-laced pleasure shooting straight to her core. His free hand slid between her thighs, calluses scraping the silk-smooth skin, fingers parting her folds with unerring accuracy.
Moira's head fell back, red hair spilling like a cascade of autumn fire across her shoulders, her breath coming in ragged pants that fogged the air between them. "Oh god, yes; finger me, Dimitri. Feel how wet you've made me in front of my husband feel how ready I am for this."
He plunged two thick fingers into her cunt without preamble, the intrusion a slick, audible schlick that filled the room, stretching her velvet walls with a burn that bordered on exquisite agony. She was drenched, her arousal a hot, viscous flood that coated his digits instantly, dripping in obscene rivulets down her inner thighs to darken the lace of her stockings.
He pumped in and out with a relentless rhythm, knuckles grinding against her clit on every inward thrust, the pad of his thumb joining the assault to circle that swollen nub in firm, unyielding presses that made her hips buck involuntarily, chasing the building pressure like a moth to flame. Kevin could see it all in torturous detail—the way her pussy clenched greedily around the invading fingers, inner walls rippling in desperate contractions; the flush creeping up her chest like wildfire, turning her freckles to embers; the way her juices frothed at his knuckles, scenting the air with her tangy, heady musk. "Look at him, baby," she panted, locking eyes with Kevin, her gaze feral and pleading all at once. "See how he owns me already? His fingers are thicker than yours—god, they're splitting me open—fuck, I'm gonna come so hard on a stranger's hand while you stare, helpless and hard."
The words were her undoing. Her body seized in a shuddering convulsion, a cry tearing from her throat like shattered glass, high and keening as her orgasm ripped through her. Juices squirted in a hot, forceful gush over Dimitri's wrist, splattering his forearm in glistening arcs, her walls spasming in rhythmic waves that milked his fingers like a velvet fist. He didn't relent, curling those digits deep inside to rake against that hidden bundle of nerves, prolonging the ecstasy until her knees buckled, tears of overstimulation streaking her cheeks, her body trembling like a leaf in the storm.
Still buzzing from the aftershocks, her eyes glazed with insatiable hunger, Moira dropped to her knees before him, the plush rug muffling the impact, her gaze locked on that throbbing cock like a devotee before an altar. "Now time for me to taste you," she murmured, her voice a wrecked purr, hands wrapping around the base of his shaft—fingers barely meeting around the girth—angling it toward her parted lips, swollen and glistening from her earlier bites.
She began with torturous reverence, the flat of her tongue tracing the underside in a long, languid lick from the heavy, drawn-tight sac to the flared crown, savoring the salty, earthy tang of his skin, the faint bitterness of pre-cum blooming on her taste buds like forbidden fruit. Dimitri's hand tangled in her fiery waves, not forcing but guiding with a firm grip that spoke of control, as she swirled her tongue around the swollen head, dipping into the weeping slit to lap up the fresh beads of his essence, humming low in her throat, a vibration that traveled straight to his core, making his thighs quake with restrained power.
"Fuck, yes, suck it, red," he growled, the words rough as sea-spray, his hips twitching forward in involuntary demand. Moira obliged with a moan that vibrated around him, hollowing her cheeks and taking him deep, her lips stretching taut around his girth like a silken glove pulled too tight. Inch by torturous inch, she swallowed him down, her throat relaxing with a practiced gag that sent tears spilling down her freckled cheeks, mascara smudging in dark rivulets that only heightened her debauched beauty. Saliva cascaded from the corners of her mouth, dripping in silvery strings to coat his balls, which she fondled with one hand; rolling the heavy orbs gently, feeling them tighten under her touch, while the other twisted in tandem with her bobs, pumping the root in slick, corkscrewing strokes.
Kevin watched, transfixed and tormented, the obscene gluck-gluck of her throat a symphony of surrender filling the room, her full tits jiggling with each eager plunge, nipples grazing the dark curls at Dimitri's base. She was a vision of unbridled depravity; cheeks hollowed like a supplicant's prayer, emerald eyes watering up at him through lashes clumped with tears, humming vibrations that made Dimitri's abs clench, veins standing out like ropes under his bronzed skin. "Look at her go," Dimitri taunted, his voice a strained rumble, beginning shallow thrusts that fucked her face with controlled savagery, the head bumping the back of her throat on every pass. "Your wife sucks cock like a whore born to it. Born to choke on strangers while her man watches."
Moira pulled off with a gasping pop, strings of spit and pre-cum bridging her lips to his glistening shaft, and stroked him furiously, her fist a blur of motion that made the veins pulse and throb. "Gonna make you cum down my throat first," she panted, voice hoarse and dripping with need, before diving back in, faster, sloppier, her nose burying in his musky curls on every downstroke, gagging wetly as she forced herself deeper, tears streaming freely now.
It built like a gathering squall; Dimitri's breath ragged, hips stuttering, grip tightening in her hair until red marks bloomed on her scalp. "Now. Swallow it all, koukla," he warned, voice fracturing, and he erupted with a guttural curse in Greek, thick ropes of cum flooding her mouth in hot, pulsing jets that coated her tongue, salty and viscous, filling her cheeks until she gulped greedily around him. Some escaped the seal of her lips, dribbling in pearly rivulets down her chin to splatter across her heaving breasts, tracing lewd paths over the freckled swells. She milked him with relentless swallows, tongue undulating against the underside until the last shuddering spurt painted her throat, then pulled off to lick the softening tip clean, savoring the final drops like nectar from a god.
Rising unsteadily on quivering legs, lips swollen and shiny with their shared sin, Moira crossed to Kevin in a haze of lust, straddling his lap in the chair with a grind that smeared her dripping pussy against his bulge through the thin barrier of his shorts, the heat of her searing him like a brand. "Taste him on me, baby," she whispered, her breath ghosting his lips—hot, ragged, scented with anise and salt, before crashing her mouth to his in a messy, devouring kiss. Kevin groaned into the invasion, his tongue tangling with hers in a frantic dance, the bitter, musky flavor of Dimitri's cum exploding across his palate; thick and cloying, mingled with Moira's innate sweetness like dark honey laced with brine. It was a violation wrapped in intimacy, humiliating in its rawness, intoxicating in its depth; his cock throbbed with agonizing need as she fed him the profane evidence of her surrender, her hands fisting his shirt, nails raking his chest through the fabric. She broke the kiss with a sharp nip to his lower lip, drawing a bead of blood that she licked away with a smirk. "Good boy. Now watch him use the rest of me... watch him turn me inside out."
Dimitri, already stirring back to life, his cock half-hard and slick from her mouth, veins subtly pulsing as blood surged anew, watched the exchange with a lazy, triumphant grin, his hazel eyes dark pools of sated hunger. He scooped her up effortlessly, her curves molding to his hard planes like wax to flame, carrying her to the bed and tossing her onto the crisp white sheets with the casual dominance of a man who knew his power. The mattress dipped under her weight, her legs splaying wide in instinctive invitation, the lace stockings framing her dripping sex like an offering to the profane; lips engorged and glistening, clit peeking from its hood like a pearl in lamplight, the air thick with the heady perfume of her arousal.
"Eat me," Moira demanded, her voice a sultry command laced with plea, beckoning him with a curl of her finger, nails painted crimson like fresh blood. "Make me scream for more. Drown in me."
Dimitri dove in like a man starved for the divine, his broad shoulders wedging her thighs apart with unyielding strength, the stubble on his jaw scraping her tender inner skin as his tongue lapped at her folds in long, flat strokes—from the puckered ring of her asshole, tasting the faint salt there, up through the slick valley to her clit, savoring her tangy essence like the finest ambrosia. He groaned into her, the vibration humming through her core, before sucking her clit between his lips with a wet smack, teeth grazing the hood just enough to make her hips jerk, nails raking his scalp in desperate furrows that drew thin lines of red.
"Deeper," she demanded, grinding against his face with shameless abandon, smearing her wetness across his stubble in glistening trails, the scent of her musk enveloping him like a fog. He obliged with feral enthusiasm, tongue-fucking her hole in plunging, twisting thrusts that mimicked the cock she craved, while his fingers—three now, thick and insistent—joined the assault, scissoring her open with a stretch that burned sweet, knuckles grinding her g-spot in rhythmic curls that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Kevin watched, transfixed and aching, as Moira's tits heaved with each ragged breath, the heavy globes rising and falling like ocean swells, nipples diamond-hard and begging for torment. Her body writhed in serpentine abandon, back bowing off the sheets, red hair fanned out like a halo of hellfire, green eyes glazed over as she stared at her husband through the haze of ecstasy. She'd never looked more beautiful—feral, unashamed, a goddess of sin laid bare. "Taste so good?" she taunted Dimitri between fractured moans, her voice a breathy wail. "Better than those other sluts pussies? Tell him how slutty I am, how I'm dripping for you like a bitch in heat."
"You are a goddess of sin," Dimitri growled against her drenched folds, the words muffled and hot, pulling back just enough to plunge his tongue deep one last time, lapping at her inner walls like a man parched, before rising to his knees, his cock now fully resurrected, a monolith of rigid flesh veined like marble, the head nudging her entrance with a promise of ruination. Pre-cum smeared across her lips, mixing with her cream in a filthy gloss. "Beg for it, red one. Beg for Greek cock to claim what's wed to another."
"Fuck me," Moira wailed, the plea ripping from her like a prayer to darker gods, hooking her legs around his waist, stocking-clad heels digging into the taut muscle of his ass, urging him closer. "Split me open—give my husband a show he'll jerk to for years." Dimitri thrust in with one brutal, claiming stroke, burying himself balls-deep in her clenching heat, the stretch a white-hot bloom of fullness that tore a scream from her throat—raw, animalistic, echoing off the whitewashed walls. Her pussy yielded to him like molten silk, lips puffing outward around his girth, gripping the veined length like a vice forged in fever dreams as he bottomed out, the obscene bulge of his cock visible under her skin, pressing against her navel from within. Inch after veined inch had disappeared into her, her walls fluttering in shocked ecstasy, every ridge and pulse dragging against nerves that sang with overload.
He set a punishing rhythm then, hips snapping forward with the inexorable force of a gathering gale, each plunge a thunderclap of flesh against flesh, his heavy balls slapping her ass in wet, rhythmic smacks that left her skin tingling with heat. The bed creaked in protest beneath them, a symphony underscored by the lewd schlick-schlick of her cream coating his shaft, frothing at the base in creamy rings that dripped down to soak the sheets. Moira's tits bounced wildly with the onslaught, hypnotic orbs of pale flesh quivering like aftershocks, and Dimitri captured one in his mouth mid-thrust, sucking the nipple deep with a voracious pull that hollowed his cheeks, teeth sinking in just enough to bruise, tongue lashing the peak while his hand mauled its twin; fingers twisting the nipple in cruel pinches that wrung gasps from her, tears pricking her eyes as pleasure bordered on pain. She raked her nails down his back in retaliation, carving red welts that beaded with sweat-slicked blood, urging him deeper, harder, her hips rising to meet him in a clash of bodies that shook the frame. "Harder. Make it hurt so good," she sobbed, voice breaking on the edge of hysteria. "Pound my married cunt. Make it weep for you!"
Kevin couldn't tear his eyes away, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum into his shorts, the ache in his balls a exquisite torment that bordered on madness. Seeing Moira like this; transformed into a cock-hungry vixen, her body a canvas of sweat-sheened surrender claimed by another man, was beyond any shadowed fantasy they'd chased in the dark. It was raw, visceral, soul-shattering: the way her pussy lips dragged along Dimitri's length on every glistening withdrawal, puffy and flushed, clinging like they wept to lose him; the obscene, distended bulge in her belly from his impossible depth, shifting with each invasion; her face contorted in blissed-out agony, mouth agape in endless, throaty moans that devolved into wordless cries, red hair matted to her forehead in damp tendrils.
Dimitri flipped her onto all fours with effortless strength, positioning her to face Kevin like a trophy on display, her husband mere feet away with a front-row seat to the desecration. Moira's arse cheeks jiggled with hypnotic allure under the impact of his thrusts, plush globes rippling like waves on a storm-tossed sea, her heavy breasts swinging pendulously beneath her, nipples grazing the rumpled sheets in teasing drags that made her shiver. Dimitri gripped her hips in bruising vise, fingers sinking into the soft, yielding flesh until white imprints bloomed like brands, yanking her back onto his cock with savage pulls that let him grind deep against her g-spot, the angle turning her moans to guttural sobs.
"Take it, you filthy wife," he grunted, the words punctuated by the sharp crack of his palm against her arse; once, twice, thrice, the impacts blooming pink handprints on her pale skin, the sting radiating heat that made her clench around him like a fist. She pushed back with equal ferocity, meeting him thrust for thrust, her red hair matted with sweat and sticking to her neck in wild disarray, body undulating like a serpent in heat. "Yes. Spank your slut!" she cried, voice fracturing. "Kevin, baby, he's marking me. Gonna send me home bruised and bred, your wife reeking of another man's cum."
The Greek's pace faltered at last, his groans turning guttural and animal, hips stuttering as his balls drew tight. "Gonna fill you. Hot seed for your greedy pussy," he rasped, sweat dripping from his brow to splatter her back. Moira reached back with trembling fingers, spreading her cheeks wide to take him impossibly deeper, her asshole winking in the light like a forbidden invitation, slick with the overflow of her arousal. "Do it. Cum inside me," she begged, her voice a wrecked hymn. "Let my husband see you claim what's his. Flood me until it drips." With a roar that shook the rafters, Dimitri slammed home one final time, his cock pulsing like a heartbeat as ropes of thick, molten cum erupted into her depths. Pulse after scorching pulse, painting her walls white, the excess bubbling out around his shaft in creamy rivulets that traced lazy paths down her thighs, soaking the lace and sheets in their mingled sin. Moira shattered in tandem, her orgasm a cataclysm that ripped a wail from her lungs, walls convulsing in frantic waves that milked him dry, squeezing every drop from his balls as her body quaked, juices mingling with his seed in a hot, slippery flood.
He pulled out with a wet, reluctant pop, the sound obscene in the sudden hush, his cock still rock-hard and slick-shining with their essence, bobbing heavily between his legs like a scepter of conquest. Instead of collapsing in exhaustion, Dimitri stood tall, chest heaving, a grin splitting his sweat-dampened face.
"Water," he muttered, striding naked toward the villa's kitchenette fridge, his muscular ass flexing with each step, that impossible erection swaying like a pendulum of defiance, slapping lightly against his thigh with a meaty thwack, veins still thrumming with unspent vigor. Kevin stared, mesmerized by the display—the sheer, godlike staying power of the man, recovering from his cataclysmic release as if it were a mere spark to his inferno. "Holy fuck", Kevin thought, a visceral mix of awe, envy, and dark thrill twisting in his gut like a knife. "He's not done, not even close. He's really going to fuck her all night. Round after merciless round, until she's a boneless, cum-soaked ruin, and I'm left chasing the echoes." The realization crashed over him like the waves below, his own cock twitching back to painful life at the promise of prolonged degradation, of watching his wife's body become a temple to another's endurance.
But as Dimitri rummaged in the fridge, the cool light casting his bronzed form in ethereal glow, a sharper pang lanced through Kevin's chest; cuckold angst uncoiling like a serpent in his belly. "Is she ever going to be the same again?" The question clawed at him, unbidden, as he watched Moira collapse forward onto the sheets, her body limp and glowing, pussy still twitching with faint aftershocks, a slow ooze of Dimitri's seed tracing down her thigh like a lover's signature. Has this Greek demigod ruined her for me? Stretched her so wide, filled her so deep, that my touch will feel like an echo; adequate, but never again enough? Can I ever match this? The stamina, the raw power, the way he commands her body like he was carved from the same marble as these cliffs? Doubt flooded him, cold and insidious, visions flashing of future nights: Moira's eyes glazing over in boredom at his thrusts, her moans feigned, her mind wandering back to this terrace, this stranger's unyielding cock. He'd unleashed a monster, handed his queen to a conqueror, and now what? A wife forever changed, her appetites awakened to heights he couldn't scale, leaving him forever in the shadow of a god.
Moira, still on all fours, her pussy a wrecked, gaping flower, red-rimmed and swollen, inner lips fluttering in aftershocks, oozing Dimitri's load in slow, obscene dribbles that puddled beneath her, glanced over her shoulder at Kevin with hooded eyes, heavy-lidded and sated yet starving.
"Don't just stare, love," she purred, voice husky from screams, beckoning him with a curl of her finger slick with their fluids. "Clean me up while he recharges—taste how he marked your territory." Kevin was on her in heartbeats, shedding his clothes in a frantic tangle, his cock, average in its modest length but achingly rigid, head flushed purple and leaking, springing free like a supplicant's plea. He buried his face between her thighs, the heat of her skin branding his cheeks, tongue delving into her cum-filled slit with a groan that vibrated through her core. She tasted like distilled sin; the salty-bitter tang of Dimitri's seed mingled with her tart sweetness, a profane elixir that coated his tongue in thick layers, dripping down his chin as he lapped greedily, delving deep to scoop the warm flood from her fluttering walls. Moira ground against his mouth with lazy rolls, fingers tangling in his hair to hold him fast, her moans a soft counterpoint to the wet slurps filling the air. From the kitchen, the fridge door creaked open, the clink of a bottle echoing like a toast to their debauchery, Dimitri's low chuckle rolling over them as he watched, stroking his unrelenting hardness with idle pumps, the 'fist-on-flesh' sound a rhythmic taunt.
Yet even as he devoured her, the angst lingered, a bitter undercurrent to the sweetness on his tongue. "What if this is the end of us as we knew it?" But then Moira's hand stroked his hair, tender amid the filth, and a counter-wave crashed through him; fierce, unyielding love. "I'd do it all again," he realized, the thought anchoring him like a lifeline. "To see her like that—eyes wild, body alive, screaming in ecstasy she deserves, needs. To give her the fucking of her life, the release she's craved in whispers. For the memories it'll etch into us both, fuel for cold nights back home, stories we'll retell in hushed tones. It'd give me this: the greatest porn I've ever seen, not on a screen but live, visceral, my wife's pleasure a front-row revelation. And I took part in it—tasted it, felt it, claimed the aftermath. And fuck, there's more to come tonight, more nights like this if she wants. That's worth any shadow."
Moira pulled Kevin up with a gasp, her body still humming, guiding his cock to her sloppy entrance with trembling hands—the lips parting easily around him, slick and lax from Dimitri's ruination. "Fuck me now. Feel how loose he left me? How he's reshaped me for you?"
He thrust in with a desperate snap, the sensation a revelation of filth: her walls, once a tight embrace, now a silken, yielding sheath still quivering with echoes of her peaks, the stranger's seed squelching around him like the hottest lube, warm and viscous, easing his path to depths that felt stolen. It was intimate violation, every slide a reminder of her stretching, her claiming; he fucked her with frantic, possessive snaps, hands mauling her tits, fingers sinking into the soft weight, thumbs flicking the bruised nipples, Dimitri's bite-marks a constellation of purple blooms on her skin, branding their shared kink. She came again quickly, a sudden, shuddering clench that wrung a cry from her, nails raking bloody trails down his back as she whispered hot against his ear, "I love you. Love being your whore, your shared secret."
Kevin followed in a blinding rush, spilling into her with a shout that tore from his chest, his load a hot flood mingling with Dimitri's in a churning sea, overflowing to trickle down his balls. They collapsed together in a sweaty, gasping tangle, limbs entwined, hearts hammering in unison. But Dimitri sauntered back moments later, bottle in one hand, his cock leading the way like a divining rod toward ruin, iron-hard and unyielding. He set the water down with a clink and climbed onto the bed, pulling Moira from Kevin's arms without a word, settling her into his lap where she ground against him instinctively, her slick folds parting around his length in teasing slides.
"Round two, koukla?" he murmured, voice a dark caress, eyes flicking to Kevin with wicked intent. "Your husband can watch closer this time—let him feel the storm."
With a gleam that promised deeper depravities, he maneuvered her over Kevin, who lay back on the pillows, spent but stirring anew, chest heaving. Moira straddled her husband's face, thighs like warm silk framing his head, her dripping, cum-stuffed pussy hovering just above his mouth; a ruined chalice overflowing with their mingled essence, the scent enveloping him in a dizzying haze of salt and sex. "Tongue out, baby," she breathed, lowering herself until his lips brushed her folds, "taste us while he reclaims me. Worship the mess we made." Kevin obeyed without hesitation, extending his tongue to lap at her in broad, reverent strokes, delving into the creamy depths to savor the layered flavors; Dimitri's bitter seed, his own fainter echo, Moira's endless nectar—a cocktail that made his head spin.
Dimitri positioned himself behind her, knees bracketing Kevin's shoulders, gripping her hips in those unyielding hands and aligning his iron-hard cock with her entrance. He thrust in deep with a single, fluid motion that displaced the air from her lungs in a whoosh, burying himself to the hilt in her slick heat; the stretch reigniting her nerves like dry tinder to flame. Moira cried out, a high, broken keen, her body jolting forward to press her clit flush against Kevin's eager mouth, grinding down in instinctive rhythm. Dimitri's pace built like a crescendo; powerful, relentless strokes that rocked her atop Kevin's face, her arse cheeks spreading wide with each plunge, the plush globes quivering under the impacts. Up close, inches from the action, Kevin had an unobstructed, overwhelming view: Dimitri's thick shaft spearing into his wife's stretched hole like a piston, coated in a glistening sheen of cream and cum that frothed anew at the base; the pink inner walls clinging desperately on every withdrawal, dragging outward in obscene displays before being driven back in with a schlick; the way her lips puffed and sealed around him, milking with every clench. But it was the sensation that unraveled him utterly. The heavy, warm slap of Dimitri's balls against his forehead and cheeks with every thrust, swinging like pendulums of flesh, musky and sweat-slicked, brushing his skin in rhythmic, humiliating caresses that left him branded with their heat, the faint hairs tickling his nose as the Greek's sac tightened with building need. The scent was a suffocating aphrodisiac; their combined musk, sharp and primal, filling his lungs until he drowned in it; he could feel the radiant heat pulsing from their joined bodies, hear the wet, guttural slap-slap-slap of cock in cunt mere breaths from his lips, taste the fresh leaks of their union as they dripped onto his tongue.
"Fuck, yes. Feel that, Englishman?" Dimitri grunted, his voice strained with the edge of another peak, one hand reaching down to smear Moira's arousal across Kevin's chin in a degrading stroke, fingers lingering to press his tongue deeper. "My balls on your face while I breed your slut wife again. Marking her from the inside while you lap at the overflow. She's clenching so tight around me, velvet fire, milking me for every drop like she was made for Greek cock." Moira ground down harder on Kevin's tongue, her hands braced on his chest for leverage, nails digging crescents into his skin as her tits bounced wildly, hypnotic swells capped with peaks abraded raw. "Lick me, Kev, suck his cum out while he fucks it back in deeper," she gasped, voice fracturing into sobs. "Oh god, the fullness, the stretch... I'm gonna..." Her words dissolved into a keening wail as she came undone, a torrent flooding Kevin's mouth in hot squirts of her release mingled with the leaking seed, her thighs clamping his head like a vice as waves convulsed through her, walls rippling around Dimitri's invading length.
The Greek didn't falter, pounding through her spasms with gritted teeth, his balls tightening against Kevin's skin in a final, taut press before he unleashed another torrent. Deep, shuddering pulses that flooded her anew, the warmth seeping out to coat Kevin's lips and chin in fresh rivulets. Dimitri groaned like distant thunder, hips grinding in lazy circles to wring every drop, before pulling out with a sigh that echoed satisfaction.
They rode the waves until Moira slumped forward, spent and shuddering, a boneless drape across Kevin's chest, her body marked in bites and handprints like a map of their frenzy. Dimitri proved every boast that night; fucking her through two more shattering orgasms in a blur of positions: her riding him reverse cowgirl so Kevin could watch the cock disappear into her from below, the stretch visible in every quiver; him bending her over the terrace railing under the stars, the sea air cooling their fevered skin as he took her from behind, her cries mingling with the waves; finally, on her side with Kevin spooned behind, forced to feel the phantom thrusts as Dimitri claimed her mouth while Kevin rutted shallowly against her thigh, denied full entry. His stamina was a legend made flesh; unyielding, multi-orgasmic fury that left her quivering, hoarse, and utterly sated, before he finally dressed with a wink and a promise to return if they craved an encore. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving husband and wife alone in the afterglow, bodies entwined in a sticky, sweat-slicked heap, the air heavy with the ghosts of their ecstasy.
Moira curled into Kevin's side, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, nails scraping gently over the welts she'd left. "That was... everything," she sighed.
