Velvet season

This story happened about five years ago. Anya and I had been married for about four years. Summer had arrived, vacation time. The sea was pulling with an irresistible magnet. So, a young married couple—I was 33, Anya was 25—packed their suitcases and headed south. The two thousand kilometers in our own car were tough but manageable. Hello sea, sun, beach, and two weeks of vacation. We stayed in Loo, in a guest house booked in advance. The house was medium-sized, only three floors with 8 double rooms. Four per floor. The first floor had a gym, dining room, and billiard room, not counting the owner's quarters. But each room had its own bathroom and

shower. Moreover, there was a dressing room with not just hangers and shelves but also an ironing board with an iron and a safe for valuables. And the room itself was quite spacious.

A large double bed, a table, a TV, cozy armchairs, and most importantly, excellent soundproofing. When we were choosing, the ad phrase "For temperamental couples" stuck in my memory. Also, from the room, there was access to a shared balcony with the neighbors; our area was separated from theirs by a small partition. In the yard, there was a decent-sized pool with sun loungers and lots of greenery. Cars were parked in an underground garage. In general, it was cozy. It was about a kilometer to the sea, but what's that to us young folks? However, not far at all, about a hundred meters along a picturesque alley, there was a resort house with an excellent dining room, buffet, restaurant, and disco. From our place to the resort house, there was a neat asphalt path lined with comfortable benches and ornate lanterns. Deep in the grove, there were gazebos entwined with wild grapes, allowing for privacy from prying eyes. In a word, beautiful.

After checking in and changing, Anya and I first went to the beach. On the way, I caught envious glances from men practically undressing my already barely dressed wife. And there was something to look at. A slender beauty with a mane of dark hair, an amazing figure, neat small breasts, and a firm butt coupled with slender legs. And her signature walk made not only passersby but also me drool with desire. But unlike them, I knew her body belonged to me.

After swimming and sunbathing to our heart's content, then having a snack at a beach cafe, we headed home. I don't know what came over me, probably the lustful glances strangers were giving Anya excited me, but entering the room, I literally pounced on my wife. Tearing off her sundress and pulling down my shorts without even taking off her swimsuit, I threw Anya on the bed, shifted the strip of her panties aside, and sharply drove my hardened cock into her womb. To my surprise, my girl was ready; love juices almost squirted from her. I only came to my senses with the onset of orgasm, barely managing to pull out, and immediately a tight stream of semen covered her stomach, and some even got into the hollow between her breasts, staining my girl's swimsuit.

After catching our breath and coming to our senses, we took a shower, deciding it would be nice to visit the disco tonight. Dressed for the evening, we headed there.

— What was that? — Anya asked as we slowly strolled along the alley.

— What are you talking about?

— About how you pounced on me like you hadn't had sex in a year.

— It's just that you're so beautiful I couldn't help myself. — I decided to lie. For myself, I had figured out what had excited me so much.

— I think you're lying to me. I saw how you practically dragged me from the beach to the room. Tell me, were you excited by how other men were looking at me? — She asked point-blank.

— Honestly, yes. I couldn't stand it, knowing you're only mine. And you were all wet too; their glances didn't leave you indifferent either.

— Well, yes, but you said yourself that I'm yours.

The conversation then shifted to another topic, but a mischievous thought settled in my mind: I wouldn't mind seeing my Anya flirting with another man. From this seemingly fleeting thought, my buddy started tensing up again, and I pushed it away. We liked the disco. A large dance floor in the open air, an excellent host. Quite a lot of people, about fifty. Mostly around our age. A bar with a decent selection of drinks and snacks. Tables under a canopy of plants separated by partitions. Cozy and fun. We danced well, drank red wine with aromatic shashlik. We celebrated the start of our vacation with soul. Returning to the room, we again engaged in passionate sex, but this time with feeling, sense, and arrangement.

— Kitten, would you want to cheat on me and fuck another man? — I blurted out unexpectedly even to myself as we lay relaxed in each other's arms after a sex marathon.

— Are you crazy? — Anya exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbow and looking intently into my eyes.

— Not at all. We're on vacation, at a resort. A little flirting, I think, will spice up our life. And I can see by you that you're not against it. Admit it. — I started continuing the game.

— Fool. How could you think such a thing about me.

— Well, why not? You're young, beautiful. Something to remember later.

— Yeah, and you wouldn't mind stepping out yourself. I've figured you out.

— You know, I love you. And I always will, but yes, I wouldn't mind either. Even not necessarily sleeping with someone, just flirting, chatting, remembering the wild youth, the feeling of hunting for a female. And you yourself want to wag your tail in front of other men. Look how you were shaking your ass on the dance floor today.

— Well, maybe just flirting. — Anya thought. — But without any cheating.

— Do you love me? Trust me?

— Yes.

— Then why are you talking nonsense? Imagine, I'm openly hitting on a stranger, or some guy is hitting on you. And what? When it comes to the point, we turn around and leave? Maybe we should develop some rules.

— Let's do it! — Anya got excited. — General rules and individual ones.

— Meaning? Individual and general. — I was surprised.

— One general rule. The time when we are free from each other and seduce others, say from eight in the evening until eight in the morning. During this time, neither I nor you have the right to interfere or stop, no matter how far the situation goes. No one can be brought to the room.

— Well, that's clear. Okay, I agree. From eight to eight, we are free birds. But regarding the room, let's decide: my day, your day. If I come on your day—oops, I mean night—and there's a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, then I sleep by the pool. If it's you, then you also sleep there or wait until I'm free, like in the lounge on the first floor. And what about individual prohibitions?

— Not prohibitions, rules. My first rule is: you can only seduce married women. So there won't be problems later. Whether her husband is here or she's alone, I don't care, but I must see a wedding ring on her finger.

— Hmm. Then you can only flirt with men who are at least ten years older than me.

— Excellent. — Anya was getting more and more turned on. — If you get to intimacy, only with a condom; I know how much you hate them. And no more than one meeting.

— What, blowjob too? — I got angry.

— Yes.

— Then if you get to intimacy, your suitor must cum at least twice, and the second time you can only satisfy him with your mouth and ass. I know you don't like anal. We only tried it once. In short, for the first fuck, he can stretch your pussy, but the next ones only anal and mouth. And yes, if he cums the first time during, for example, asking you to finish him with a blowjob or wanting to blow off steam in your ass first, then no pussy.

— Yes, I got carried away with the blowjob in a condom. Maybe let it be without one, and leave my ass alone. — My wife started backing down.

— Hey, no, you started it. — Not doubting at all that if it came to it, I would conveniently forget to put on a condom. I pinned Anya down.

— Okay, agreed. When do we start?

— Let's start tomorrow. But I have one more general rule. Until the end of the vacation, we can only have sex with other people. Not with each other, and no masturbation. Now let's sleep. — So, each thinking our own thoughts, we sank into the realm of Morpheus.

We went to bed late after talking and making rules. So when I got up, Anya was still sleeping deeply, and I knew she would lie in until lunch. An hour later, I woke Anya, bringing juice to bed. She was sleepy and grumpy. After a hearty breakfast, we decided it was too early for the beach, too hot. To all my questions, my wife answered monosyllabically. But then she burst.

— Vadik, forget about what happened yesterday. I wasn't myself, and I will never agree to your proposal; consider it a stupid joke. Do you understand me? And for now, I want to be alone. — Saying all this, Anya took a towel and left the room.

I was very upset. It wasn't that I wanted to step out. No. I really wanted Anya to cheat on me. To be honest, I wanted to see another guy fucking her, or at least know that she occasionally fucks someone other than me. I don't know, such a desire arose in me quite a while ago, about two years back. Probably all kinds of porn sites and forums dedicated to wives cheating were to blame. And regular sex had become somewhat boring. In the literal sense, regular. My Anya absolutely didn't like giving blowjobs, though she wasn't against cunnilingus at all. Also, no anal. We tried a couple of times, but it never went to the end; we stopped halfway. It hurt and was unpleasant for her. I couldn't even insert half of my average-thickness seventeen centimeters into her. And that was frustrating. To have a beautiful wife and limit myself in sex. That's how I came to the thought of her cheating. Forum visitors all claimed that after their wives started cheating on them, sex got better, many taboos fell, and personal family relationships reached greater harmony and understanding. In principle, I had no reason not to believe them. Although I myself wouldn't mind sleeping with another woman, let's be honest. But I wanted Anya to know and approve. Such were the cockroaches in my head. I had high hopes for this vacation, and now everything was falling apart. My mood dropped. I took my laptop and, comfortably settling in a chair on the balcony, started browsing porn sites, lazily sipping beer. Occasionally glancing down at my wife.

Anya settled in a sun lounger by the pool with some book. Not far from her, an older married couple was lying and talking. But then an unfamiliar young woman, about thirty, in a black swimsuit, with loose dark red hair and an amazing slender figure, came out to the pool. She ran and dove into the pool, and after refreshing herself a bit, settled in the sun lounger next to Anya's. Some conversation started between them.

I probably stared at the stranger for about five minutes.

— Hot chicks, I'd fuck them good. And you?

I shuddered. Literally a meter away from me, on his half of the balcony, stood a stocky, clean-shaven man about forty, about my height, our neighbor. Smoking, he smiled cheerfully and looked at me.

— Ahem. — I coughed from surprise. — Actually, the one in the blue swimsuit is my wife.

— Ha-ha-ha. Well, you're something. Actually, the one in the blue swimsuit. And what about the redhead in black being my wife? And you're staring at her like a cat at sour cream. I've been watching you for about two minutes. Want her? — He embarrassed me.

— You've got it wrong. And you're looking at mine with an unusual gaze yourself. — I came to my senses.

— Well, I'm not hiding it. I said I'd fuck her. Anyway, I'm Anton. How about a hundred grams for acquaintance? — He extended his hand.

— Vadim. Yeah, let's do it. Where shall we go? And we should call our wives. — I replied to the greeting with a firm handshake.

— Why go anywhere? Come over to my place. We just arrived early this morning. Got whiskey, some sliced fruit, and then we can go for shashlik.

— Well, okay. — I easily jumped over the railing.

— Hey, ladies. Vadim and I are here at my place, join us. — He shouted to our wives.

Anton's room was exactly like ours. Open suitcases stood by the entrance, women's and men's clothes were piled on the bed. A started bottle of whiskey, a juice carton, and sliced fruit in a vase, a couple of glasses—that was the whole still life on the table. Without delay, Anton poured a little each and proposed a toast to vacation. We drank, had a snack, and started talking.

Anton, 43, and his wife Inga, 34, were from St. Petersburg. He worked in a bank as a head of the lending department. Inga had her own modeling agency, well, sort of modeling. They photographed young girls in lingerie and sold the material abroad. And if some beauty made it, they sold the rights to photograph her to more upscale agencies, those working in glamour. In short, a cushy business. They came here purely to relax. Broke away for a couple of weeks, basically like us. kkiss18.net And I also found out that Anton and Inga were swingers and practiced free sex. Grabbing onto this revelation, I learned more details about how they ended up with such a life. Strangely enough, they had been married for 18 years. Back then, a young, promising ladies' man, already earning well, was invited to a tourist base. There he met a student from the journalism faculty. One thing led to another, in short, a tent, mosquitoes, sex. As usual. But Inga captivated Anton. They started dating, got married six months later. A great family, and all that.

But after about five years, it turned out Inga couldn't have children. Never. Anton got drunk and stayed drunk for a couple of months. He grew cold towards his wife. Problems started at work. Inga was working as a photographer at the time. And one evening, she dragged Anton to some creative party. What and with whom Anton drank, he doesn't remember. But he woke up in a strange bed in the arms of a sweet girl, from the snoring of an unfamiliar guy who, at that moment, literally a meter away from him, was fucking his Inga. First bewilderment, then rage, and then understanding. They explained things and accepted each other as they were. Now everything was great with them. They adopted a three-year-old girl six years ago. She's now at her grandparents', eating condensed milk. Work is fine, and business is going uphill for both him and his wife. And the fact that they sometimes have fun with others only benefits their relationship. Inga even sometimes helps me pick up a girl I like; she's a big specialist in that, he revealed at the end. By the time Anton finished his rather long monologue, we had already had three drinks each. What the hell, I told him about my relationship with Anya and my desires, hiding almost nothing from our sex life. I also told him about our late-night conversation and what came of it by morning. Turns out, confessing to a stranger isn't so hard, especially with a hundred grams.

— Hmm. You know, Inga and I will help you. — Pouring another round, Anton said.

— How?

— Just. I'm telling you, Inga is a psychologist on this topic. I'll talk to her, and she'll come up with something. So don't worry, we'll solve your puzzle. Yeah, where did our