The cocktail was ice cold in my throat yet it burned almost as hot as her. That swimsuit. Two electric pink pieces separated by a stomach not yet exposed to overindulgence. Water cascaded from her body in a 'V' as she hauled herself out of the coruscating pool directly in front of me and flicked dark hair behind her lissome frame like something from a damn movie. Nobody yelled, "Cut!"

I'd never been so glad of tinted glasses and having my knees drawn up on the sun lounger to hide my gaze and erection, respectively. Each droplet of water that glistened on her skin seemed to fall in slow motion to the floor, as if gravity was also weaker in her presence. Although I could have imagined it, I swear her eyes held mine, and something flashed behind them – a wildness – just before she reached full height, prominent nipples atop breasts jutting beneath material barely able to contain them.

Through the dripping bikini briefs clinging to her skin, I could make out the tantalising contour of each labial lip. And when she turned to face the pool, my God. I gulped another mouthful of Long Island Iced Tea at the way the fabric curved over those alabaster cheeks and swept between her lightly tanned, wet thighs. Just enough material to tease. Her thigh gap was a perfect keyhole I'd have died to unlock.

She stood with toes curled over the pool edge, waiting for space in the water. A female whoop to her left made her glance across and I marvelled at her profile that caught the fierce rays of the mid-afternoon sun from the cloudless Balearic sky. Gently tapered nose from which a drop of water fell, sensuous lips, high cheekbones. She waved, then refocused on the crystal blue pool and upended with a deft flick of her heels, balletic and shapely as the water parted to accept her.

My wife in the lounger alongside tutted. "Hussy."

I turned to her. Blonde locks tumbled over shoulders dappled with freckles either side of the straps of her burgundy one-piece. Beneath the shade of the oversized parasol she exuded radiance. Beautiful and womanly.

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it, right?"

She gave a tight-lipped smile, reaching for her G&T from the low wicker table between us and taking a sip. "I remember when you used to look at me like that."

"I wasn't-" I started, perhaps too hastily. I fixed Rachel with what I hoped was a guiltless expression. "I still do."

I watched her throat undulate as she took another pull of her drink. "Mmmm. But I don't have that effect on you." She nodded at my crotch.

I felt suddenly self-conscious and shifted in the lounger that creaked in defiance. "Yes, you do." I caught her eye over my glasses and lowered my voice. "Want me to prove it?"

She laughed and her breasts jiggled beneath the material. "Do you ever turn it off?"

I shook my head. Said nothing.

"Later."

I deflated a little, yet tried not to show it. "No carpe diem? We get such little time away from the kids." I reached across and stroked her forearm.

She shivered and pulled away. "Tickles." Dimples formed as she flashed a disarming smile. "Anyway, they'll still be with my folks later."

I pursed my lips and drained the drink as I returned my stare to the shimmering pool. My head didn't move, but behind the prescription shades I tracked the flashes of electric pink that sliced through the sparkling ripples, a dolphinesque grace about her.

As I drank in her elegance, my mind spun, returning to that loaded glance she'd given. The promise that sparked unhealthy visions of a clandestine meeting at the nearby shoreline. Holding hands. Laughing. Dancing in the sand, long shadows evaporating as the cherry sunset dipped below the horizon. Kissing. Rolling on the beach. Touching and tasting, my face ultimately pressed to her soaked bikini, gorging on her arousal through the fabric. Making her arch. Making her come. Making her beg for more as the saltwater lapped our toes and the night fuelled our illicit union.

.o0o.

For Rachel and I, later came as promised. Bathing suits strewn on the floor, her knees bent, legs parted, my face where it belonged. She tasted better than the fingers of golden daylight that bled past the gently swaying curtains. A mixture of chlorine and sun-kissed arousal trapped in the wiry tangle of hair beneath my stubble.

Her little mewls of encouragement drove me. Kissing her dewy snatch, lapping beads of juice that escaped as my tongue crooked into her folds. Trailing up to encircle her clit, all hot breath and necessity, I smothered her proud nub with varying shapes until she announced that she was "Ready."

I wanted to carry on. Take her further. Higher. Until she could no longer stand the torment and flooded my face with her essence. Until she pleaded with me to stop before she turned inside out. Until her sexy pussy was matted with saliva and strings of pearly excitement that would enflame my heart, her cries echoing off the crisp hotel ceiling as she came harder, longer, and wetter than she thought possible.

But all I got was her hands either side of my head, pulling me up. Away. Not even to kiss her so we could share her delicious nectar. She just rolled over, drew up onto all fours and wiggled her bottom. Not that I had cause for complaint. Forty years in the making, it was still a fine derriere. I grabbed her curvy rump as I shuffled forward on my knees. Angled my raging prick with one hand and found her slick entrance, pushing easily inside.

She sighed as I sank home and her shoulders slumped to the bed, face against the pillow. I heard her hand slither between her body and the starched sheets, to attack the clit I had awoken with my tongue. Felt her fingers circling her jewel protruding from its hood as my cock picked up pace in her slippery channel.

Rachel was tight from behind. I loved fucking her that way, her moans absorbed by the pillow on each instroke as I hammered. She was clearly enjoying herself, but all of a sudden something felt wrong. Something deep inside me, like a clock spring giving up, the rest of the mechanism reduced to ineffectual twists of metal and cogs. Unmeshed.

I pistoned in and out as my mind over analysed everything. Couldn't help it. Conjectures. Hypotheses. Cause. Effect. I concluded her moans weren't truly representative of a woman being elevated to higher planes of excitement, propelled towards being totally out of control. They were just… measured. Lacking spirit. Never letting go, animalistic and raw. And in that moment, I realised that's what was missing. What I needed to hear. The feedback to know that I was delivering utmost pleasure. Even just once.

I felt broken. Laced with self-doubt. Like I'd somehow failed her by being too selfish about cunnilingus when maybe she didn't really enjoy it. Or I was not very good at it. Too blinkered on my own fetish that I'd not met her needs. For the first time in our fifteen-year marriage my erection waned. Still hard enough, it seemed, to keep her satisfied, but I had lost that steel edge of which I was proud.

Panicking, I tried peeling apart her fleshy cheeks, imagining one day driving into her delightfully tight rear. Maybe after one too many tequilas, she'd allow me the honour. She moaned with each thrust, her fingers a blur on her clit, but I felt on borrowed time. Like I might not finish inside her. A failure.

It wasn't until a flash of electric pink surfaced in my mind and I imagined the cheeks I was holding encased in that bikini that my erection sprang back to its former glory. Full, hard and veined, I ploughed as my wife's moans kept pace. I felt her body tremble, telltale panting the prelude that she was about to make herself come. I wanted to come with her. An attempt to atone for poor performance.

But in my head, I ravaged the young swimming beauty. Heard her unbridled cries as she let me take her to places she'd never been. As I snarled obscenities in her ear; things my wife didn't like to hear me say. I imagined my voice catching as I whispered how much I wanted to fuck her svelte, tight, young body. How I wanted to spit on her upturned arse, press my thumb, then flared cockhead against her and ultimately plunder her darkest place with my hardness. How I wanted to do that while spanking her pretty bum until it turned red, my handprints marking her pristine flesh. Owning her.

I felt dirty. A low cheat for having to resort to such tactics, but the guilt was immediately replaced with euphoria as I erupted amid the familiar confines of my wife's clutching heat. She came. I came, filling her with spurt after spurt of white gold. Mission accomplished.

But as I pulled out and a trail of thick spunk drizzled onto Rachel's thigh before she collapsed beneath me, I felt shame. A fraud. I bent to kiss her perspiring body to make up for it. To try and convince myself that it was just a temporary blip. To reconnect. To push the brunette from my head. But somehow, deep down, I worried. Was it just me? A rut? Could I escape it? Or was it something worse?

I knew I had to change or I'd risk drifting away. But I had no idea how, nor where to start.

Until the very next day.

.o0o.

The mercury in the thermometer lashed to the wooden upright of the bar indicated the mid nineties. Pedestal fans whirred and yawed but merely served to redistribute the heat. Local staff inside the shack hustled to serve the clutch of patrons, including me. Some wore all-inclusive wristbands. I didn't.

Santiago turned his attention my way. "Señor?"

I smiled. Held up a single finger. "Uno gin and tonic, y uno Long Island Iced Tea, por favor."

It sounded shit, like some school script from a kid with no language prospects, but what could I do? The drink names were Anglicised already. It was like that cringeworthy moment in French classes: J'habite à Kensington. Santiago seemingly forgave me, nodded and set about the order.

I fiddled with a beer mat, spinning it to see if the logo would be the correct orientation when it came to rest. I felt her presence more than saw it from my periphery, but turned to glance at her all the same. Didn't know where to look, her breasts barely contained in the same style bikini as the day before. Mint this time, a decorative sarong wrapping the waist down. She shook her hair out of its ponytail and tousled it with her fingertips. It seemed a provocative gesture. Probably was.

Placing her clutch purse on the bar, she waited, facing the bustling staff. It was a long while before I realised I was staring and she glanced across, catching me in the act. My cheeks burned and I focused on the bar between my hands. My heart was thumping, mouth dryer than a Martini.

"You like to watch?" She had a soft, lilting accent. Difficult to pinpoint in such a short phrase. North-East England if I was guessing.

"W- What?"

She drew a circle with her fingertip around the beer mat in front of her. "I saw you watching me yesterday. And this morning by the pool."

I shook my head rapidly. "No. I…" Paused. Didn't know how to finish the lie.

She smiled. "I know."

Staring at the movement of one of the fans, I wished the bar wasn't twice the temperature a moment earlier.

She leaned towards me a fraction. "It's okay. I don't mind. Which side did you prefer? Front or back?"

I gulped. "Is that a trick question?"

There was a twinkle in her eye. "Depends."

"On what?"

She giggled. "Your answer."

Santiago returned with the drinks and I paid him, waving away the change. I turned to face her. "Then I'd have to say…" I thought a moment. "Back."

She picked up her purse revealing a room key underneath. With a flick of her wrist she sent it scurrying across the bar behind her and off the edge. "Ooops. Butter fingers."

Like a life-size twisting garden decoration, she spun first from her feet, then hips, to her head a moment later until she faced away from me. I held my breath as she bent at the waist, the extent of those beautifully tight orbs curving beneath the blue-green bikini material through the transparent silk of the sarong.

Standing, she spun back and placed her key on the bar, batting her long, natural eyelashes. "I'm so clumsy."

I shifted. A crude attempt at hiding the beginnings of my erection. She leaned in again and whispered, "This is the part where you offer to buy me a drink."

I tried hard not to gaze at her impressive cleavage. "Uhh, of course. Sorry. Would you like a drink?"

She giggled again. "Very kind of you to offer. Margarita, please."

I caught Santiago's attention and ordered for her. He scurried off to fulfil the request.

There was an awkward pause. "I'd best… take this to my wife or she'll wonder what's happened to me."

"Wouldn't want to come between a woman and alcohol."

I nodded. Felt uncomfortable. "I'll… uhh. Be back."

She flicked her hair again. "I'll be waiting."

I left her finger combing her locks as I hurried the drink to my wife, citing some excuse about running out of ice that required me to return to the bar for my drink.

As promised, the brunette was still standing there. I slowed on the approach to appreciate the full magnificence of curves that swept to the perfectly smooth behind tucked into the minty parcel and flowing sarong. Drawing level with the bar where her drink sat, condensation rolling down it already, I retrieved my wallet. Santiago accepted payment, sliding the drink to me. I deflected it across to her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I paused and held my glass up for her to chink. "So, is this your way of avoiding the astronomical resort prices?"

She laughed. Didn't deny it. Eyeing her over my glass, I wondered how many other suckers seated around the bar had fallen for the room key gambit.

"You're not here alone, I take it?"

"No. A bunch of us jetted out between semesters. World Cup Widows!"

"Shouldn't you be with your mates?"

She took a gulp of drink and grinned. "I'll join them later. Swap stories."

Raising my eyebrows, I gently shook my head. "Did your boyfriend really choose football over that bikini?"

She twirled and wiggled her hips. "You like it?"

The lump in my shorts approved and I nodded. "Very much."

Blatantly ogling my crotch before flicking her gaze to my eyes, she breathed, "So I see," and took another mouthful of cocktail. Swallowed. Traced a fingertip around the rim of her glass, a bead of condensed liquid forming that she licked off. "Tell me, what would it take to make my body really excite you?"

I nearly spat my drink into her cleavage. "What?!"

She fluttered her eyelashes. "You heard. All this sun makes me feel… funny."

I stared at her, trying to decide if she was playing me. "Are you for real? Y'know… boyfriend?"

She regarded the floor a moment. "He'll have been drinking since lunchtime. Without me there, if England win, he'll probably call his ex." She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Bigger tits than me. And besides," wrapping her lips around the straw, she sucked suggestively, "what happens in Ibiza stays in Ibiza."

I stared agog as she cupped her hands around the cocktail glass, then brought them to her hips, tracing upward. A trail of condensation glimmered on her perfect, bronzed hourglass. As she reached her bikini top and brushed her breasts, her mouth opened a fraction, inhaling.

She shivered and smiled at my slack-jawed reaction. "I'm definitely for real."

Again, her eyes roamed to my crotch. I shifted my footing, trying to make it less obvious. Failed. Pushed my glasses back up. "This can't be happening."

She flicked her hair from her shoulders. Seemed amused. "Why not?"

Choosing my words carefully after a slug of alcohol, I said, "Because you're half my age. Because we have partners. Because it's wrong. Pick one."

A wry smile crossed her lips. "And yet," she mused, "you haven't left. And nor have I."

Silence breathed between us. The murmur of conversation around us. Distant poolside shrieks and splashes. The whirring fans that seemed even more ineffectual in the stifling heat of her radiance. Of this stranger practically throwing herself at me. I couldn't deny the allure. I wanted to step in, scoop her into my arms for a passionate kiss. Let her feel me grow against her soft body, the rest of the world inconsequential as we became lost in the moment. Shared breaths. Shared contact. Her obvious need slotting into mine like a long lost jigsaw piece.

Over-thinking things again, I could only speculate at her circumstances. What drove her behaviour. Laddish boyfriend, probably. Attentive enough to keep her interest, but often out with his mates drinking, leering at women, watching the game on TV, leaving her unfulfilled. Ignoring her needs. Criminal.

It was wrong to take advantage, I knew. Plus, I had a lot to lose. Kids. House. Wife. Did I have the moral muscle to resist? Or would I succumb and risk it all? A moment of akrasia bringing everything crashing down.

The remainder of her alcohol disappeared down her throat and she returned the glass to the bar. "Thank you for the drink." She brushed the back of my hand, fingertip to wrist and I shivered. "Nice to have met you."

She picked up her purse and that was it. Over. The decision made for me, no risk required. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

I watched her arse leave the bar, her body becoming bathed in bright sunlight as she stepped barefoot from the shade to the concrete path that led to the pool. I watched as long as I dared then faced the bar. Contemplated my drink. Cursed quietly under my breath. Exhaled.

Then I saw it.

Her room key on the bar. Number face-up. I looked back quickly, expecting to see her perfection sashaying in, returning for it. Nothing. No movement. Just me and temptation in the airless atmosphere. I focused on the key. At the very least I should return it. It was the chivalrous thing to do.

I reached for it. Stopped. A wave of doubt swept over me. Guilt, maybe. Then something else. Something scary. Need, unfurling inside me. Taking over.

Snatching the key, I pocketed it, grabbed my drink and headed back to my wife.

.o0o.

The room key was burning a hole in my pocket the entire time I was lounging poolside, not listening to my wife's inane chatter. I made noncommittal noises to keep up the pretence of paying attention, praying there wouldn't be a quiz after.

I scoped the pool and deckchairs for any sign of the girl. Convinced myself it could have been a genuine mistake. Figured I could then saunter over, casting a shadow across her perfect figure and dangle the key for her to take, our fingers brushing as she did. From there, who knew?

But part of me knew it was no accident. She'd left it there to see what I would do. To see if my resolve crumbled; see if my decency would erode. See if I'd chase after her like a puppy with a ball. To what end, only my cock stirring in my swim shorts could imagine.

I pictured walking into her room, finding her lying on the bed still in that bikini. Imagined staring, mesmerised before closing the distance between us, her legs scissoring open as I crawled onto the mattress and buried my face between her trim thighs. Ate her sexy, naked pussy through her swimwear, the gusset soaking as I drove her to orgasmic shrieks that filled my head with raw want.

Playing scenarios over in my mind, every one of them ending face first in her snatch, I eventually snapped. Turned to my wife. "Getting too hot here. Just going for a walk to cool down then I might go for a swim. You want anything while I'm up?"

She shook her head and I rose, almost having to sit down again to steady myself.

Stepping away from the poolside heat, I passed under leafy palms covering partially shaded interconnecting paths. The concrete was scorching beneath my soles in the exposed patches. Irregular spurs led to triplets of whitewashed buildings beyond rectangles of parched Mediterranean grass, the embedded sprinklers timed to pop up in the early evening to try and limit the sun's damage.

Scanning the numbers alongside doors to each self-contained cube of accommodation, I located the room that matched her key jangling between thumb and forefinger in my pocket. I stood at the end of the path that curved past shrubs and ferns to the bleached front door. Took a deep breath and ventured forward, each step making my mouth dryer.

At her door, I paused.

Knocked.

Waited.

No reply. Where was she?

I fumbled the key. Should I go in? Was it right? Ethical? Was she expecting me the other side?

Curiosity won. I brought my shaking hand to the lock and, with a cursory glance left and right, slid the key home and turned the latch.

Pushing the door open revealed a room not dissimilar to the one in which I was staying. Terracotta tiled flooring. Bed along one wall opposite a mirrored dresser, upon which a small flat-screen TV sat alongside strewn make-up and leaflets for local attractions.

I found my voice. "Hello?" The sound reflected, unanswered. "Hello-o?"

Silence.

Still shaking, I stepped across the threshold, the tiles welcomingly cool against my bare feet. The wicker chair in the corner by the window faced a small glass-topped table upon which were a half-finished bottle of local red and a thin-stemmed wine glass, a ring of sediment partway up.

I bit a nail. Ran my hand through my taupe hair. Pressed on. Trespassing for sure. Behind me, the door silently eased to.

Her bed was made. The doorless wardrobe between it and the entrance to the en-suite housed some hangers supporting short summer dresses in a rainbow of colours. On the shelves were neatly folded T-shirts, blouses, shorts and, further down, underwear. The bottom shelf contained some strappy sandals, a couple of sets of flip-flops and a pair of medium-height heels.

Ahead of me, I nudged the bathroom door. It swung open and creaked at its extremity, leaving the yawning dimness beyond. Nobody home. I paused. Something had registered but hadn't set in my mind fully. Something in the wardrobe. I backed up a fraction, looked down on the shelf beneath the dresses.

Fuck.

A carrier bag stuffed full of clothes.

Worn clothes.

And nestled on the top of the pile: pale blue panties. Probably last night's.

My heart leapt into my throat and I glanced at the front door instinctively. Nothing. Blood hammered through my veins, almost cutting off my hearing. Fuck. Fuck! I trembled with fear and excitement, a hollowness in my chest. A pair of sexy knickers awash with her scent, within arm's reach. Tantalising. Beckoning.

I knew it was wrong. Invasion of privacy. Probably worse. My cock twitched regardless. I reached out, almost as if my hand wasn't part of my body. Like a Scooby Doo monster about to surprise one of the gang. I drew back, scolding myself for being so weak, yet couldn't tear my eyes from the garment. Tunnel vision. Nothing in the room existed between the panties and my scampering pulse.

Fuck.

I darted out my hand and grabbed. The cotton felt so soft in my hands. My dick rose as I fumbled and spun the gusset face up, quivering. Gasped at the silvery streak down the centre. I thought my heart might explode.

Shaking, I brought the garment up to my nose and inhaled. All my senses came alive at once, funnelling blood to my cock that tented my shorts. Divine. I sniffed again, flushing at the forbidden scent. Ran the gusset along my upper lip. It was ever so slightly tacky and I rolled my eyes back in my head, imagining I was between her legs savouring her for real.

I couldn't resist a taste. Just a touch with my tongue to the sticky centrepiece. My brain nearly ejected from my skull as her rich flavour danced on my palate. Flashed through my entire frame, making me jolt. In a frenzy of lust, I wrapped my lips around the gusset, feeling her essence reanimating in my mouth, hungrily drawing everything I could onto my screaming taste buds. Learning her taste for replay again and again in my mind.

The door slammed behind me and I whirled, panties stuck to my lip as I scrabbled to remove them and prayed that the crossed arms and furious expression of the mint-clad beauty ahead of me could be placated.

"What. The. Actual. FUCK?!" she screamed.

I struggled for breath, let alone words, her scent still barrelling through my body with the adrenaline.

"I… I can explain." It sounded ludicrous. There was no explanation that could undo this.

"Explain?!" She snorted. "You can explain it to your wife."

"No! God no!" I blurted, then whispered, "No. Anything but that."

She strode across the room, stopped inches from me and grabbed her knickers from my grasp, brandishing them in front of my face. "This gets you off does it? Breaking into people's rooms and rifling through their used underwear?"

I looked at the floor. Her dainty feet. Cerise polish. "I… had your key. You left it at the bar. I was returning it but you weren't in and I… got." I paused, breathed in, brought my eyes to hers. "Carried away."

"Does your wife know you get 'carried away' like this? Sure she'd love to find out."

My voice was hollow. "Please, I'm begging you."

She gave a sharp laugh. "I know what begging sounds like and that's not it."

Caught. Terrified. Nowhere to go. "I'm sorry. Please." A breathless whisper. "What can I do? Anything."

Her head cocked, appraising. "That's better."

I caught that wildness again in the flash of her eyes and suddenly it clicked. Hussy was right; she'd planted the panties. Part of her game. Her control. Relief began to wash through me before she interrupted its flow.

"But you need to prove it."

I swallowed. "How?"

"On your knees," she sneered.

She pointed at the tiles. Numb, I complied, the floor absorbing my heat. I looked up at her towering above me. Deadly. Alluring. My heart thumped.

She stepped a fraction closer. "Does the smell of my dirty knickers make you hard? Does it?" She brought the bunched material to my nose and shoved hard, making me roll my head to avoid toppling. I sat there, demure. "Does it?" she thundered.

Our eyes reconnected and I nodded once.

The girl dropped the underwear in my lap, rested one bare foot on top of it and reached to cradle my head, stepping within millimetres of my face. "What about here? Does the smell of me this close turn you on?"

My vision was filled with nothing but taut, green fabric. Each ripple of her naked pussy lips beneath was clearly defined, the faintest vertical depression in their cleft. I breathed in deeply. Every particle of her scent invading my nostrils made me swell in my shorts against her toes. She was heavenly. Fresh, sweet high notes amid an undercurrent of musky summer perspiration.

I sniffed again and grew.

She released my head and ground the ball of her foot against my cock. "Ohhh, naughty boy." Returning her foot to the floor, she crouched to eye level, fixing coconut shell irises on mine. Her hands moved to my hips, raised me from my haunches and in a fluid motion, yanked my shorts down to pool against the tiles. My cock sprang to attention between us.

Her fingernails grazed its entirety before she plucked her used underwear from my trunks and trailed them over my cock head, making it twitch and jump with every brush. Draping the pastel material over my rising hardness, she encased my shaft with her fist and jacked me a handful of times inside her delicate underwear. The cotton slithered against my veined staff and I grew fully hard in her hand, seemingly all my blood pulsing to it.

She rose again, statuesque, tossed the underwear behind her to the bed and replaced her soft sole on my aching erection, toes curling over the flared end. Steadying herself once more by holding my head still, she drew my face inward, this time pulling me directly onto her bikini.

Her grip was tight, my mouth crushed against the fabric, barely able to breathe as my nose ground into the apex of her slit, pressing her concealed button. She gasped. I kissed. Nothing else I could do even if I wanted to.

My lips encased hers through the sheer material, trying to imprint her taste on my psyche so I'd never forget it. I extended my tongue to probe her entrance, increasing the pressure as I stretched the fabric between her sexy smooth folds, seeking to push it inside her. To coat her bikini with burgeoning juices that I could suck and drink from the gusset. The material slipped between her shaved lips, the juicy plump flesh of each becoming available to my hungry breaths, sucks and nibbles as she sighed above me.

I took each winged fold in turn inside my mouth, grazed my teeth over them. Kissed and licked every part of her centre she let me touch, listening to her erratic breathing. My nose crushed her clit, her heady scent squeezed into the tiny gaps between us that I inhaled as if she were oxygen. Hurried, breathy exhalations steamed my glasses as I devoured her until she pulled me away, both of us panting.

Her distended pussy was a sight, a thin wedge of mint disappearing into her obviously wet slit. She pulled to rearrange the material as it should be, which left a tantalising dark oval in the centre.

She dropped back to sit, perched on the edge of the bed and rolled her toes over my mushroom cockhead. "So you like the taste of me?"

I nodded emphatically, watching her foot circle and tease my straining length.

Leaning back on her elbows, she raised her foot to my mouth. "Let's see if you like the taste of you."

I opened my mouth obediently and she pressed two toes inside. Slithering my tongue over them and sucking, I tasted sweet pre-come as she moaned. "Clean them. Make them nice and wet."

Coating her toes in saliva, I bathed them with my tongue, ensuring there was plenty of frothing spit dripping between them. When I blew a cool airstream, I felt her shiver, before engulfing them again. She drew the drenched digits out over my chin and chest, leaving a slick trail as they returned to massage my cock head. More pre-come smeared over her delectable toes, and my dick bounced to greet each touch.

"Spread your knees."

I did as best I could, stretching my shorts in the process. She drew her toes down my shaft and massaged my sac with the ball of her foot, watching my dick continue to jump with each caress. I drew breath as she moved lower, my sensitive nuts dangling across the upper surface of her foot when she stroked. Lifted. My scrotum spread over her arch.

Our eyes locked as she brushed beneath me, moving forward between my legs. She curled her toes skyward, tickling the rim of my arsehole with the largest digit. Her eyes sparkled and she pushed up, the tip of her toe attempting to penetrate me.

It felt incredible and I gasped as she began to invade my tight rear hole, a rolling dull persistence that made my skin tingle.

"Relax," she cooed.

Her toe moved again, pressing inward. I used my heels to separate my cheeks. Felt my ring gradually spread and accept her. Probably only a centimetre or two, but it felt like a cruise missile as she probed. I breathed deeply and took my erotic punishment, almost unable to comprehend how I'd managed to get into this situation in such a short timeframe.

I witnessed her expression harden as she circled her toe, gently plucked it from me and I felt myself close in her wake. She drew back her foot and slithered it all the way up my body to my mouth. "Suck."

I could smell myself and opened up to accept her big toe, swirling my tongue over the musky digit. "Good boy," she chided. "Dirty boy. You really will do anything."

She brought her hands to her breasts and cupped them, squeezing the flesh through the bikini. I eyed her nipples and watched them rise as one of her hands trailed to her pussy, fingertips snaking beneath the waistband. If it wasn't obvious from the motion of her hand beneath the material, when her fingers met the target, she threw her head back and moaned, then locked eyes with me again.

Her toe slithered from my lips and she traced it down to my cock, applying pressure more forcefully this time. She brought her other foot into play and massaged my raging length between her insteps, languorously wanking me from tip to root. Her gaze became transfixed on my cock, squeezing to guide pre-come up the shaft between her soles, and alternating which foot spun over the tip to collect my juices and smear them down my pole. Sensational.

I felt pleasure welling up inside me. Ready to burst. To rain spunk all over her pretty feet and toes. No doubt she'd make me eat it from her digits. Clean her of my salty residue. Maybe feed it to her via a sloppy kiss. She didn't seem to have many limits.

My cock raged.

She stopped.

I groaned.

Smirking across at me, clearly enjoying my discomfort, she lilted, "Easy, boy. This is punishment not playtime."

Her big toe pressed against the eye of my cockhead, a dollop of pre-come oozing onto her painted nail. "Tongue," she commanded.

I held it out for her to deposit the sweetness, then she placed her foot to the floor, spread her thighs and tapped her finger at the wet spot on the bikini. "Crawl. Slowly."

Despite being only a few feet from the bed, I leaned onto all fours and took my time, tongue outstretched, heart rate all over the place. The vision of her tight bikini grew. I felt her heat. Swore I saw the wet spot increase a fraction, moments before I swabbed my pre-come onto the fabric and she groaned.

She scooped her magnificent breasts out of her top and tweaked the caps, pinching and pulling them hard, the slope of her tits altering to a sharp cone. Her eyes met mine, a fierce intensity behind them. "Eat. And don't you dare fucking stop until I've come."

As if.

My mouth pressed to her wet spot and I kissed her snatch over and over. My hands were still on the floor and I daren't use them for fear of upsetting her, so I slid my tongue from the base of her panties between her trim cheeks all the way to the tip, flicking her clit through the material.

She groaned. "Yesss."

Focusing on her jewel, I circled it. Tapped it. Wrapped my lips around it and blasted hot air through the damp mint that covered it. Encasing her nub in my lips, I nibbled. Felt her hips wriggling and held on as she bucked against my face.

Anchoring my chin on her drooling entrance I clamped over her clit, marvelling the way her tummy and chest rose and fell with her laboured inhalations. She yanked on her nipples, twisting them. "Yes. Fuck yes." She gasped and tossed her head, locks swishing against the starched sheets dappled with flecks of sun through the swaying nets.

Introducing my teeth, I grazed the edges of her proud clit. Nipped the sensitive nub and her body jerked up, arching off the bed, almost throwing me backwards. She inhaled through gritted teeth. "Fuck yes. Gonna come. Fuck."

I applied firm pressure. Heard her scream. Then I sucked to soothe her, pulling the material into my mouth along with her needy pearl and she froze against me, gasping in air and holding it in her lungs as her body trembled.

Wetness formed against my chin. Juice tumbled to soak the bikini material, too much to be contained, dripping round the edges to pepper my stubble and the sheets. Then she exhaled loudly and her hips smashed to the mattress, writhing and wriggling, hands rolling the flesh of her boobs.

I sat mesmerised, rock hard at the sight of her orgasm ripping through her body. Watching her pleasure flow, the bikini bottoms soaked through.

Her hands released her tits, arms flopping to the bed, a contented smile fluttering at the corners of her mouth as her gyrations slowed and eventually drew to a stop.

I let her float, my cock still raging hard at the exquisite, raw beauty on display. The way she had completely surrendered to me. Let me control her pleasure after she'd teased mine.

I could barely believe it, heart still fluttering, when she opened her eyes, eased up onto her elbows again and beckoned me with a single finger. "Stand."

Stumbling to my feet alongside the bed as she scooched to its edge, she raised her legs vertically, pressing them to my torso for support. Her calves held my glasses to my face, brushing my ears. From between her legs, she snaked a hand, grabbed my bobbing cock and placed it on top of her drenched swimwear, then clamped her thighs shut.

"Fuck me," she commanded.

I didn't need asking twice, immediately drawing my cock back and sliding it between the keyhole thigh gap I'd lusted over the day before. It felt exquisite. She was tight around my girth, and the added stimulation of the shimmering wet fabric of her bikini beneath my shaft made me ooze more pre-come. It dripped to her panties, adding to the mess already there.

For her part, she sighed each time I pressed against her body. My cock slithered along the indentation between her folds, stimulating my frenulum across the sticky material. I don't think I'd ever been so hard in my life. I'd certainly never seen as much pre-come drizzle from me. It was like a tap I couldn't quite turn off.

My voice was a husky whisper. "God, that's incredible. It's gonna make me come."

She opened her thighs a fraction. "No it won't. You come when I say, not a moment sooner."

I groaned, desperate to unload. She wouldn't let me over the edge. If I pressed harder to try and increase the friction, she opened her thighs to reduce the pressure until I returned to a more measured stroke. If I backed off when I approached climax, she tightened her grip and called me filthy names until I was within seconds of spraying her taut belly with hot spunk, then squeezed my cock head between her fingertips to halt my eruption.

The power she held was insane. Maddening. I was hotter than the afternoon sun, perspiring where her legs touched my skin. And then she upped the ante. Peeled her bikini bottoms aside so my cock slithered directly between the channel created by her syrupy folds. I took a sharp intake of breath and she shot me a warning glare.

I wasn't to come.

Not yet.

Fighting my orgasm, she stretched the mint fabric over my cock so I was encased between the material and her slippery cunt lips. Her legs tightened around my cock and she brought her open palm up to below my chin. "Spit."

I did, watching her lower her hand to her tits, dripping a little of my saliva onto each nipple and smearing it around. She grabbed a good handful of flesh, pinching the wet nipples with both hands. "Fuck my slit."

I pulled back. My cock was on fire as I repeatedly thrust beneath her knickers, splitting the upper folds of her hairless channel and brushing her clit on the upstroke, her moans elevating. I was trapped, as close to fucking her as made no difference. A few degrees lower and I'd slither inside her sopping pussy.

Balls drawn up. On the edge of climax. Desperate.

Her eyes met mine, legs tightening. Passion burned in her gaze and she uttered one word that I felt rather than heard:

"Now."

Pulling back, I rammed a handful of urgent strokes beneath her panties, squishing noises echoing around the room as I roared and witnessed my spunk stain her swimwear from the inside. I shook as I spurted rope upon rope, more come than I'd ever seen, all the while groaning at her filthy encouragement until I was spent.

So fucking sexy.

She grinned and peeled back the panty material to reveal the sticky, splotched mess beneath, releasing her thigh grip so I could slither out, panting. She patted the bikini back in place with a splat and rubbed my come around, cooing. She didn't ask me to clean her up, but I would have.

I wasn't sure what to do with myself. Fumbled my shorts back up as she began to masturbate furiously, her sighs filling the room. I watched her body bucking again, dipping fingers into the mess we'd made and scooping it onto her tongue, gasps rising with every touch until she quivered and inhaled deeply, glowing, groaning amid her second release.

Watching excited me. Could have stayed there all afternoon, but she eventually rolled her head and mouthed, "Go."

Leaving the key and reversing slowly from the room, I thanked her. Didn't know what else to say.

In a daze I made it back to the pool, dropped my glasses on a table and dived in, the cold water and chlorine shocking me into clarity and absolving me of my crimes, at least physically. I felt dirty inside. Guilty but alive. If anyone asked if I'd fucked another woman I could perhaps pass a lie detector test, but it was a technicality.

By the time evening rolled around, dressed for a trip to the local town for dinner, I felt calmer as Rachel and I wandered the back streets hand in hand. Took selfies. Kissed by a crumbling statue. Reconnected, albeit she didn't know we were even misaligned. It was all me. I had to change. The ease with which I'd been led astray was terrifying. I had to find that spark. Somehow draw from our relationship something that I felt was missing, exploring how to deliver my wife the kind of pleasure I'd seen etched on the girl. That glow. That utter contentment to let go and be damned with the consequences.

Returning to our room, fed and wined, we were all hands and desperate kisses. I pulled Rachel away from the direction of the bed, shoving her against the wall by the entrance instead, lips connecting. I slithered the straps of her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, kissing her upturned breasts in its wake. She fumbled my clothes until I was naked, hugging her, breathing in her fresh, lightly perfumed skin.

She went to slide her panties down but I put out a hand to stop their descent. "Leave them on," I whispered. My eyes found hers, a twinkle forming. "Indulge me," I breathed and felt her shiver as I trailed butterfly kisses into her neck, her throat. Shoulders. Over hardened nipples.

Stroking her hair, I stepped away, determined to make things up to her. To drown my sin by rediscovering her beauty, piece by piece. To relearn what made her excited.

I encased my raging cock with my fist and aimed it at her knickers, masturbating. A treat, all for her. I fixed her wide-eyed stare with one of my own, burning with pure animalistic lust.

The way I used to look at her. The way I always would.