The Willow Switch, Part 2 Of 3 free porn video

We woke in Belize the next morning, with only three more nights to go on the cruise. I lay next to my beautiful, sleeping bride, and thought those nights seemed to hold danger. I watched the rays shining in through the skylight, and they seemed to bring clarity. A dark fantasy didn’t seem very enticing in the light of day, and Willow’s switch of partners from the night before was flogging my ego with shame. I quickly discarded the decision I’d made in the heat of the moment.

I was ready to discard Brock as well. He had some bully in him, and I wasn’t interested in being bullied. Fighting was not abhorrent to me, and I’d been in several, but only if pushed. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to push. Maybe his intrepid aggression was the pen that drew the Jace Line.

My real bully was my own libido, my dark fantasy, and it had muscled me from dream to reality last night. Aside from fighting the control center between my own legs, there was another factor in my decision to renege on my decision to let Brock try to impregnate my wife. That factor was my wife Willow, and I wasn’t sure if she would agree that the Willow Line was in the same place as the Jace Line.

It was apparent that the control center between her legs aligned perfectly with mine, and dark, twisted, perversion dwelt deep inside each of us. She’d loved acting out my dark fantasy, and my intent to abort the decision we’d made while we were both teetering was not exclusively mine to make.

That point was amplified by her wake-up reminder, “Are you ok, honey?”

“Yeah, hon. I think we got a little carried away, but it was what we both wanted.”

“Brock said he’d call today. Is that okay?”

“Let’s let it cool for a while. Text him that we’re thinking about yesterday and we need some time.”

“We do need to talk. I think we both found out things about each other that we didn’t know.”

We not only found out things about each other, we each searched our own depths to discover things about ourselves that had been previously smothered by society. It was a soul-baring that we should have had at least a year earlier, and while we both admitted to worry about the long-term danger, we also both admitted how exciting her tryst had been. A switch to an exciting new lover for Willow was a Willow Switch that lashed us both into exquisite pleasure and excruciating pain on our twisted libidos.

We both agreed that Willow’s intentional exhibitionism triggered that deepest canto of the id in each of us. We also agreed that we wanted that to continue regardless of whether it led to more or not.

That ‘more’ was the crux, and the wet blanket I covered it with was my disclosure that I tried to find her so I could keep her from letting Brock take her to his room. My jealousy was real, and she seemed to understand and believe it was a game ender. Her jealousy flame burned even brighter than mine, so she agreed that we shouldn’t push the jealousy button any more.

No more Brock.

We didn’t even discuss our heat-of-the-moment joint decision to let Brock have her again, this time without protection. It was too outrageous to even think about in the light of day. We spent the day talking as we shopped and snacked in Belize City, and we laughed at ourselves, agreeing that our jealousy meters were probably too sensitive.

I proved that the part of the dark fantasy we both still wanted to keep alive was thriving when I bought the sexiest, unlined white thong bikini I’d ever seen. She didn’t even try on either part, but I was pretty sure it would fit. We both loved her willingness to display, and her exposure of that beautiful bare skin was not even a blip on the jealousy radar screen for me.

It was a big blip on the arousal radar screen.

I wondered, “What do you think everybody will see when you come out of the pool?”

I was stiffening and she noticed. She smiled and her hug and shimmy against my stiffening led me to believe that her mind was grazing the same pasture. She smiled and answered my question with one of her own, “What do you want them not to see?”

I hunched and she shimmied, “Nothing.”

“Me neither.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘more’ all day, and I didn’t need to ask to know my wife was plucking her thoughts from the same pool.

That night, at dinner, it was time to pay the piper. All five couples were seated when I looked toward William and Joey.

“You saw Willow with Brock last night. I knew she was with him, and in fact I suggested it. We met him on our scuba trip yesterday, and they hit it off right away. I saw she was interested, and it was obvious he was. I love my beautiful bride, and I want the best for her. Last night, the best was Brock.”

Joey, always the brave one in her marriage, asked, “It looked like they were on a date. You’re ok with that?”

“They were. I saw their attraction. I set it up and encouraged her to let go.”

Joey again, “She did that. You know what they did in front of everybody, right?”

She clearly wanted me to confirm it to our other tablemates. I didn’t know if she’d already brought it up, so I decided to be fully transparent, “I think so. Willow said they kissed and his hands touched everything and everywhere.”

“They did. I can vouch.”

“Do you see why she was attracted?”

“Hell, yeah. He’s a big hunk of real man.”

Her husband, William chided, “Joey!”

Joey smiled at her husband, “Just looking, honey, like you always tell me.”

William looked embarrassed, “Okay, baby.”

Joey focused her sarcastic attack back toward me, “I suppose you think you’re just being understanding and considerate, Jace.”

I corrected, “She wasn’t with him because I’m considerate, Joey. I’m sure you guessed, but it’s more for me. What started on the dance floor didn’t end there. He brought her back to our room at 1:30.”

I couldn’t have been clearer if I just said he fucked her, and that brought more sarcasm from Joey, “In the afternoon?”

I smiled in understanding. It really wasn’t that outrageous a question considering what they already knew, “No, in the morning. She enjoyed the experience very much.”

“And you?”

“Mixed. My jealousy is pretty hard to fight, but it did arouse me too. That’s why she was with him.”

“On your honeymoon. Great way to start your marriage, Jace.”

“I’m not sure why you think this is your business, Joey, but I’m pretty sure nobody assigned you as judge in this case.”

Joey didn’t respond, so it was a pregnant pause before Talia did, “Will you let her be with him again?”

“Probably not Talia. My jealousy is hard to control, but Brock wants to be with her again and...” I paused to look at my bride, “… Willow wants it too.”

The deepest part of my dark fantasy was oozing back out, and I think my words seeped into Willow’s own. Everybody else looked at my bride too, and there was an even longer pause where nobody spoke.

Finally, she said, “I liked it… a lot.”

I thought we had served transparency well, and other subjects entered the dinner conversation. I knew where my wife’s thoughts were and we each had a couple of glasses of wine at dinner that did nothing to settle those dark fantasy thoughts.

We went back to our suite and polished off an entire bottle of Merlot while sitting on our balcony watching the setting sun. I gently teased her choice bits while we sat on the love seat in view of the observation deck above.

Willow was ready as she reminded me, “Today is the most likely, honey. We should go inside and make a baby when I’m most receptive.”

It was twilight, and she was responding to my hands and tongue when my fantasy crept back in. I took her top off and felt her nipples stiffen more at the thought of being seen. It wasn’t long after that she was naked in the duck on our exposed balcony, and she was ready to let me take her there. It was nearly dark, and my dark fantasy was thinking about Brock again, so despite being rock hard with my bride, who was anxious for more, I didn’t follow up when Willow said, “C'mon Jace, I’m ready.”

I’m an idiot. “Later, let’s go dancing first.”

She knew my darkness had emerged, and she was on board. Even without our fantasies, I think she would have agreed to my suggestion. I can’t remember even one refusal of that suggestion in the more than two years we’ve been dating, and that’s because Willow loves dancing. I’m not very good, but I stumble around and enjoy myself. Willow is very good, and whenever we go, I only dance about half the time because she is snagged by the good dancers for the rest.

I picked another of her new, sheer bra and panty sets and her short, translucent, flower-print, button up the front sundress. I didn’t want to go to the same place she’d been the night before with Brock, so it was 9:15 when we ended up in “On The Briny”, a smaller, darker lounge playing mainly big-band swing from a juke box.

It was three hours and at least five martinis later, during which time Willow had danced twice with other older men who probed for interest, when our conversation went darker again.

We were both more than half way to martini-ville oblivion, and I was hard, dancing tight, when she looked in my eyes and spoke what my eyes reflected,

“You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?”

I bumped hard, “Aren’t you?”

“It’s hard to not think about it.”

I had to agree with that, “I thought about you with him all day.”

“Me too. Especially when you bought that almost-there bikini.”

“You were thinking of him seeing you wear it?”

She blushed before answering, “I was thinking of wearing it on the beach with him.”

“On a date?”

“Yes.”

“When it’s wet?”

“It’s unlined honey. It won’t hide anything then.”

“He’ll like that, right?”

“Yes, he likes to let others see me, Jace.”

“You liked it when I showed you off, and probably liked it even more when he did.”

A blushing nod.

“You want me to let him fuck you again, don’t you?”

Her blush deepened as she nodded again without speaking. My hands dropped to her ass and I pulled her tight against the traitor in my pants.

The traitor was in charge, and as we ‘danced’ its dominance grew. My beautiful wife was clearly in the mood to submit to dominance again. She was hunching as I felt her tits, and I’m sure I could have taken her back to our suite and we would have both enjoyed trying to make a baby. I didn’t because she’d just admitted what she really wanted, and I knew somebody else was better at dominating her, providing her more pleasure, and thrilling her with the danger of pregnancy-risk sex. She was anxious to submit to that somebody better than I at it.

I’m sure the next words from my mouth had nothing to do with brain function, “Let’s go back to the table so I can text him.”

I sat beside her and she handed me her phone, assuming I would use it just as I had last night. She watched over my shoulder.

‘I’m in ‘On The Briny’ with my husband wondering what you’re doing. If you aren’t too busy, stop by. We’re in a booth and the seat next to me is empty.’

I didn’t ask her if I should push send, and my alcohol abetted dark fantasy sent it without her permission. I moved to the booth seat on the other side of the table.

It was half-past midnight, ten minutes after her invitation, when Brock walked in. He must have cat eyes because he saw her immediately in the dark room and was seated next to her in our booth within seconds.

He reached across the table to shake my hand, “Hi, Jace. You ok?”

I was conflicted, but that wasn’t his business, “Yeah, fine.”

He bent over and kissed my bride. It wasn’t just a peck and I watched his tongue enter her mouth, but then he stopped to look in her eyes, “And how’s my girlfriend?”

She smiled at him, “I’m fine, Brock.”

The waitress arrived, and he took charge, “They’ll each have another and I’ll have a double. Macallan, neat. Stateroom 864.”

And so it began, right before my eyes. Even before the drinks arrived, they were dancing. I had to agree with Willow. He was a great dancer, but that wasn’t what held my eyes. Before In the Mood ended, Willow had her arms around his neck and they were French kissing, both clearly ‘in the mood’. Two of the men sitting at the bar had already danced with her, and they knew she was married to me, not to the man kissing her.

The drinks were on the table when they returned. He slid in first, and he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

He looked at me as he spoke, “I had some of those photos from yesterday enlarged and printed Jace. I’d like to bring them by tomorrow to show you. Maybe take some more. Photography is a hobby.”

I hated myself. I was still rock hard and my dark fantasy was taking over. Alcohol was a co-culprit, but it was mainly the control center below my belt that spoke, “I just bought a new bikini for Willow. I’d love to have some photos of her in it. I don’t think it will hide much.”

Willow’s eyes widened in a questioning way, and I nodded. She snuggled up tighter and smiled, this time looking up at him.

Brock’s boldness again. He returned her look, “I’d like to have some photos of her out of it.”

Damn me. The drinks were abetting as I sunk deeper into my dark fantasy, “We both would, and she’ll do that if I ask. Right, honey?”

She looked up at him again, “I promised to love, honor, and obey my husband, so if he asks, I have to do it.”

“So that means you’ll ask, right Jace?”

He knew I wanted to see it too, “Yes, tomorrow morning.”

“How’s the lighting there?”

“It’s a suite, and I think it’s good. A skylight and a sliding glass door.”

“You have a balcony, right?

“Yeah, a nice one.” Then my mouth spoke without consulting my brain, “A nice entryway too that might have college boys watching.”

He knew then that I knew everything about last night, and that I was encouraging him. Who was he to inspect any part of the gift horse?

He raised, “Your beautiful wife enjoyed dancing without underwear last night. Do you mind if my girlfriend dances with me like that again?”

She was wearing a sundress that you could see through if the light was behind it. It wasn’t particularly low-cut on top, but it was mini-skirt length.

I saw his raise, and my own upped the stakes even more, “Take them off in the bathroom, but leave a couple buttons undone for your boyfriend.”

Brock held her purse as she reached for it, “Just bring them back and lay them on the table. I want everybody to know you’re naked underneath.”

As she stood, I knew my beautiful bride was under the spell of another man, and I wondered if I was too. I was so hard I ached with each throb, and his words exacerbated my condition.

He was smug, “Your wife loved being with me last night Jace. My girlfriend must have come seven or eight times.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but what he said was new. I thought I’d heard the entire confession, but not if what he said was true. Seven or eight? I’d never been able to give her more than two orgasms.

I didn’t say anything, but his use of ‘your wife’ and ‘my girlfriend’ was a repeat of an earlier comment and obvious bullying. I did finish my martini in one big gulp. I needed it. I wondered if I could hit him up beside his head with enough force to knock his smugness out, but even more than my hope to knock out his smug condescension, I hoped his braggadocio would be enough to knock my condition out.

Unfortunately, I think it did the opposite, and the rigidity still throbbed in my alcohol abetted dark fantasy. My head wanted him to stop, but it wasn’t in control. What was wanted more.

Willow returned with two buttons unbuttoned from the top and with her balled up bra and panties in her hand. She put the wad on the table, but that wasn’t enough for Brock.

“Spread them out. I want to see if they are as sexy as the ones you wore last night.”

It was some of the ‘more’ my darkness wanted, and she practically covered the table with spread out sheer enticement. When she finished, Brock picked up her panties and held them up before bringing them to his nose for a strong sniff. The stool fools at the bar and the bartender definitely noticed. She was still standing and watching as he spread them out again on the table.

“Come sit, drink your martini.”

He was sitting in the middle and patted the small bit of bench seat next to him. She didn’t have much room and was half off the seat with one leg in the aisle. He polished his drink off and then held her drink to her lips and tipped it all in, I think she was still swallowing when he started kissing my wife again. Their active lips were no more than two feet from my eyes, and I could easily see tongues also entwining.

I watched for several minutes while they made out like they were teenagers in the back seat of a car. They were animated and they were unashamed of the sounds they each made. Willow’s mini-dress kept sliding up the leg in the aisle.

He finally stopped kissing to whisper in her ear. He sat back to watch, and we both saw her reach to unbutton another button. She looked at him, and his nod was the order to proceed.

The waitress came back while she was unbuttoning. A sly smile and a point at the empty glasses indicated that she was aware of the events unfolding, but the unfolders were too preoccupied to care. I just circled my hands over the empties to indicate we wanted another round.

I looked to see who else was watching. There were still two couples, in booths on the opposite wall, but none directly across from ours. There were three men seated at the bar, including the two men Willow danced with earlier. And there was the bartender and there was our waitress. Including me, that made ten focused observers.

I don’t think it would have made any difference if it was ten or ten million, and I don’t think the bartender, who was the only one with a mandate to stop it, was interested in doing his duty.

All eyes watched the escalation. It wasn’t too long before all the buttons were useless for that function. The belt still kept the dress from flopping open, but he spread the top sides so we could all see the excitement revealed by her engorged nipples. He whispered in Willow’s ear, and she held the dress open while he groped her large breasts with his large hands for all to see. My glassy-eyed bride periodically seemed to notice those focused eyes, especially when he bent to use his mouth to stimulate the nipples that were already as hard as they can get.

The only sounds she’d made were moans and whimpers, 'oohs' and 'aahs' until Brock’s hand went south to the Y and his head went north to her ear. It was easy to detect the exact instant his fingers struck a rich vein. She shivered and she groaned her eureka response to his whisper in the sexiest, “Ooohhh, God yes,” I’ve ever heard.

She was positioned at the very end of the bench seat, almost in the aisle, and everyone could easily see her. I sat at the end of the bench seat on my side of the table so I could see too, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his long, thick fingers bringing her such pleasure. I could hear the sounds of his whisper after discovering the motherlode, but couldn’t understand what her ears heard.

He started alternating kissing and whispering, but never stopped fingering. I could tell she was getting close when Brock whispered in her ear again. She understood his order perfectly, and turned her head to look at me, “Brock wants me… ooh, God, to come honey… mmmm… me too… he wants you… and everybody… aaaahhh… uunngg… to… see… him… oohhh… make… me… come.”

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t a whisper either. Everybody else in the lounge was in the boat from which I’d just disembarked. They could hear sounds, but it was difficult to make out the words until the last three.

My deep, dark, twisted fantasy squeezed everything else out of my brain. I replied, before she finished her last three words, “I do, too.”

I don’t think my words were her trigger, but she came as soon as I said them. His whispers continued throughout her throbbing, clenching, clutching, squeezing, spasming blissful end, and her volume knob on high-moan accompanied the visual contractions.

His fingers stayed with her, in her, well past the last scrunch and whimper, but then he reached across to grab her left hand and brought it to his own ache. I watched her outline it in his cargo shorts, and the wedding set moving back and forth along it only caused my own ache to intensify. She continued to squeeze in the aftermath as her breathing settled.

He finally scooted over enough for her to sit comfortably next to him. We drank and talked, and she continued to squeeze and he continued to probe as we did.

I found out that Brock was a driven man, and that he was very successful entrepreneur with three ‘Snoop, Spy, and Secure’ stores in Denver. He also had a PhD in physics and taught a couple of introductory classes at the University of Colorado at Denver as an adjunct. He was twenty-seven and said this was his first vacation since he was twenty, between his junior and senior year at Cal Tech.

We also found that he had a great sense of humor, laughing frequently with an infectious belly chuckle, and that he was an engaging story and joke teller who was very good at seeing funny things around him.

My jealousy flag was not just fluttering, it was flapping from gale force winds, but I also realized why my wife was so besotted. I could see she bewitched him as well, and wondered if Willow was ready to switch partners for more than just a cruise romance. That Willow Switch would leave more than painful welts on my psyche so I decided to rename Brock.

For the rest of the cruise, in my mind, Brock was going to be an exquisite but excruciating jealousy-induced Painful Welt. Unfortunately, I wanted to see them together, so the Painful Welt seemed to be a masochistic desire to inflict damage to my own ego while watching another man take my wife to the heights of pleasure. The pleasure/pain connection was exactly what my warped fantasy wanted right then, but that other thought producing area decided to belittle, not be big. It called me a fool, and I agreed with myself.

My centers for urge control were battling even before the Painful Welt stood and took Willow’s hand to lead her back to the empty dance floor. Even in her heels, she could do no better than put her head on his shoulder, but somehow my lower control center was winning the battle, and it thought they looked good together.

It was just after 1:30 AM and the tucked-away, small lounge was nearly empty. One couple and one of the stool fools had left, but the few of us left were still wide awake and focused on the only two dancers. His hands were on her ass and her hands around his neck. As the song progressed, the length of each dance step decreased, and by the final note, their feet didn’t move at all.

That didn’t mean nothing else did. Tongues, hands, and pelvises probed and bumped, and he positioned Willow so I could see her ass with his hands on it. While I gazed and gaped, he lifted her hem and tucked it into her belt, leaving her ass bare and exposed. His hands were on it, moving lower and lower, until I could see his fingers reaching under and through the gap between her legs.

The music had stopped and there really wasn’t any reason they were on the small dance floor, but they just stayed there. The Painful Welt was fingering my wife from underneath in a public bar in front of me, her husband, and six others. Nerve, chutzpah, daring, boldness, and every other noun describing his intrepid and aggressive dominance of my wife were in his DNA, and he could have been their poster boy. My bride was more than willing to be his poster girl.

They were ‘dancing’ to their own primal rhythm, and were still progressing when ‘last call’ came. He left her skirt tucked into her belt, exposing her ass, and started reaching to unbuckle her belt.

It was then that the house lights came on, so I stood and walked up behind my wife. He finished unbuckling and spread her dress open. He saw me standing behind her and said, “Hold it open.”

I did, long enough for everybody to get a clear view in the bright light while his hands touched all the key components, but then I looked at him, “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

He nodded and headed for the bar to sign his tab. Willow looked almost dazed from arousal as I led her back to our table. The unbuttoned dress still hung loose, and I kissed her while I refastened her belt. She stood beside me as I stuffed her panties and bra into her large purse, and by the time I was done, the Painful Welt was back.

I started toward the bar to settle, but the Painful Welt’s grasp stopped me. He said he picked up our tab too, and left a large tip. He also mentioned that he told the bartender and waitress that it was a honeymoon gift to us. He did like to bully, and it continued in a more subtle form by the reveal of our recent marriage and obvious dark fantasies. Willow had already buttoned all but a couple, but her boyfriend’s dominance continued.

He spoke with volume, “Leave them open. We like seeing my girlfriend, right Jace?”

“Yes, my wife likes letting us see too, Brock.” They already knew, so I said it loud enough for those left watching to hear.

Willow smiled and unbuttoned everything again.

I was somehow thinking with both control centers for a second. Where could we go? I wanted to watch but I wanted others to watch too. One of the discoveries made in the last two days was that we both liked to let others see my beautiful bride, all of her, without any clothes in the way.

I knew that, with so many young people on the boat, there had to be a ton of whoopee being made, and some of it had to be being whooped outside the rooms. I held her hand and the Painful Welt kept her hot buttons pushed as I led them along the outside gangway, toward the aft.

We reached the smoking area at the very back of the large ship. It was a small deck with a few chairs, a love seat, and two chaises, both of which had couples in them. Both couples were passed the ‘making out’ stage, into the ‘taking off and touching’ stage, and we surprised them.

The Painful Welt took over, “We’re here for the same reason.”

He pulled Willow into his arms and started kissing her again. His fingers unbuckled her belt again, and he slid his hands inside and around, once again finding her naked bottom.

The other couples looked at me. I sat down on the love seat, just because I was standing right in front of it. I don’t know if I said anything that made any difference, but they didn’t leave after I confessed.

“I’m here to watch. You’re welcome to just watch them or you could keep going. If you do, I might watch you too.”

And watch I did. The Painful Welt whispered another directive, and Willow shrugged off the last citadel of protection for the modesty she had no interest in protecting. Except for her high heels, she was naked. It was easy to see she was aroused and ready.

They kissed again as he felt her breasts, but another whisper was followed by my wife sitting on the love seat right next to me. I was confused until the Painful Welt stood in front of her and reached down to spread her legs so he could move closer.

His girlfriend, my bride of less than a week, unbuckled his belt, unhooked, unzipped, and dropped his cargo shorts. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his mighty stood proud. It was at least four inches longer than mine and much thicker, a cudgel that looked dangerous with its twitching hardness and purple veins. It throbbed and leaked a stream of lubricant out the tip, and I was almost afraid for Willow.

Since I was in a naming mode, I thought his cudgel deserved its own name, and his throbbing cock became the Willow Switch in my mind. It was a big reason the Painful Welt’s girlfriend was anxious to switch lovers again, and it was a tool that could inflict both pain and pleasure, much as a willow switch could.

He stepped out of the shorts and stripped his t-shirt, so he was as naked as my bride. I stared at Willow’s left hand, the one with the wedding set on her ring finger, as it rubbed the leaking slipperiness all around the head before she bent over to start licking it off. Her licks soon moved further down the Willow Switch, and I believe she coated every millimeter with her tongue’s saliva before she let her mouth cover the head.

She’d always been able to deep throat me, but I’m just over six inches and not particularly thick. I guess the big trick she learned was how to suppress her gag mechanism, but I still couldn’t believe that she was able to deep throat the Willow Switch. It was just as surprising to see how much she let him control her when she did, and it was easy to see the lump in her throat moving in and out. Sometimes he stood still as she bobbed, but other times he held her head still and pumped like her face was a pussy.

I don’t know why he stopped because if I was in his position, I wouldn’t have. There were many cases where I hadn’t, but the Painful Welt had a different goal: mutual pleasure. He pulled her away and bent over to kiss her, at which time her hands went around his neck. His hands went under her bottom, and he lifted her so she was straddling him while he stood back up.

The Willow Switch squished between their abdomens, and he used it to grind for a while before he lifted her enough for his pronghorn to bounce away. He waited for the oscillation to damp before lowering her to feel the upward spring force against her spread lips and blood-filled button. It felt good and she did grind on it, but it wasn’t really where she wanted it right then.

I was interested in the ‘problem’ he had to solve. Her hands were both busy holding on to his neck and his hands were both busy holding her up by her ass cheeks. How was he going to aim? Almost before I finished posing the ‘problem’, I had the answer: trial and error. He started raising and lowering until he pitched a strike, and when the head of his magnificent Willow Switch found the zone, he let her drop. Full insertion of the Willow Switch monster in one stroke.

I wondered if it hurt, but that enigma was also answered before my thought finished. They both groaned, and the sounds indicated both pleasure and pain. She was wet, but not all the way inside, and that dry-skin friction was painful, but there was also the pleasure they knew was imminent, and that portion of the groans was due more to their anticipated mutual pleasure.

He looked at me, “She’s the first who’s been able to take me like that, Jace.”

She kissed him and the moans through their touching lips was loud. Their French kiss continued while his biceps bulged repeatedly as he easily lifted her 125-pound body and then dropped her to fully seat himself inside her, each time bringing his ‘solution’ almost out before letting go. The lips through which he entered again and again were abused by the stretch from the Willow Switch, but that pain-pleasure abuse just brought her closer and closer to rapture.

And then we all knew exactly when she reached the ultimate human pleasure experience because she confessed it so clearly. She pulled back from kissing his lips and we watched spasms wrack her beautiful body.

“Ohhh, God… aahhh… uummmm…. uuuhh… uhh... soooo gooood… ooohhhh…. aaaahhh… mmmm… ooohhh, Brock.”

He held her well past the end of her spasms, but her moans of pleasure still resonated when he lifted her off the Willow Switch so she could stand in the high heels that were both still on. Counting the one from fingering in the lounge, she’d come twice, her limit with me. It was nowhere near the seven or eight he bragged about causing last night.

Then again, he wasn’t done.

“Turn around and put your hands on Jace’s knees.”

I was sitting, looking directly into her beautiful eyes, when the Willow Switch entered her again, and this time the Painful Welt was holding and lifting her from the bend between her legs and torso so he could stand and drive hard.

She was grateful to him, but also to me, “Thank you, honey.”

I wasn’t 100 percent sure she was talking to me, so I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. She looked at my own throb and could see it was standing at full attention. She gave it a quick squeeze before returning her hands to my knees.

She correctly observed, “You like this as much as I do, honey.”

Her statement was loud enough for everybody to hear, and they could see she was talking to me while another man gave her pleasure. The Painful Welt upped the bully factor, but it was just in keeping with the boldness in his DNA.

“Kiss your husband.”

He was loud enough to eliminate any confusion to the rest of our audience, and my wife was anxious to please the man giving her so much pleasure. I could feel her twitch when the Painful Welt reached under to use her breasts as handlebars to guide her, and the voyeur husband and adulterous wife were quickly connected in a juicy French kiss.

His steering was precise, and he managed each hairpin turn with unerring perfection. We quit kissing so I could watch the Painful Welt stroke my wife’s porn-star breasts, and his hands pinched, squeezed, tweaked, and sometimes mauled her engorged nipples. I couldn’t see their connection junction, but I could see his body and I could feel him through her. He also stroked her at a different zone with a different extremity, and the Willow Switch varied from long, gentle, slow strokes to circular to short, hard, fast ones. I thought he might be close when he stopped altogether to hold himself fully inserted, at which point one of his hands found her magic button.

He didn’t stop because he was too close, he stopped because she was. He already knew her so well that he knew she was there, and his one word directive sent her over the cliff, “Kiss.”

Our lips had barely touched and he was motionless except for his fingers on her most sensitive spot when she erupted. I loved the sensation of feeling her lips on mine when she reached the peak the Painful Welt’s steering had so accurately targeted. I could feel her powerful contractions all the way through the lips kissing me and the fingers squeezing my knees, and I knew I’d never made her come so hard. Halfway through her climax, she needed to confess, so she quit kissing.

“Ooohhh, God, honey… aaaahhh… uuuhhh… uuuhhh… mmmmm… ooohhh, yes… ooohhh… I love you… sooo goood… love this… oohhh… thank you… aaaahhhh.”

The intensity of her orgasm revealed something I didn’t want to know, but I had to face the music. Its tune berated me. Time to be a man.

I was going to be a really good husband, but that’s all. I was going to love her, protect her, provide for her, and be a very good father, even if I didn’t provide the genetic code, but I was never going to get her off like this.

I conceded to the Painful Welt. He was what she wanted, what she needed right then, and I love her.

The Willow Switch had been fully inserted and hadn’t moved at all during her seismic event, and it stayed like that for at least a minute after her last shudder. She kissed me again, passionate French kisses, until his first motion again. She looked and tilted her head. I nodded in answer to her unspoken question, and she knew I was aboard. Hell, it was really too late anyway. He could have already released inside, already strewn his potent seeds in her fertile ground, and I hadn’t objected.

The Painful Welt must have sensed it too. He pulled out and sat next to me on the love seat. There was just enough room for both of us to sit and leave room for Willow’s knees astride him, which is where they were when the Willow Switch was back inside.

The bundle of energy proved there was still plenty of juice left. She was the one providing the motion on his Willow Switch gargantuan, and she rode it hard. His hands still steered her handlebars, but now he could use his lips and tongue to point the headlights on her chest toward her fourth climb to the top of pleasure mountain.

Bully Brock, loud and clear, “What am I doing, Willow?”

He was trying to force her to use the words I’d always wanted to hear when I was inside her, “Oooh, God, yes… you’re doing it to me Brock… you feel so good.”

“We aren’t doing it Willow, we’re fucking, I’m fucking you. You like how I fuck you, don’t you, Willow?”

“Yes, Brock… mmmm... I love how you make me feel.”

“What am I fucking you with, Willow?”

“With your beautiful, big, long, fat... hard thing.”

“That thing is my cock, Willow. You like my cock, don’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm… I love it… so deep… so hard… I’m so full from it.”

“What’s so full, Willow?”

“Your thing… it’s deep… oohhh… so deep… inside me… in my pussy Brock.”

He looked at me, seemingly proud that he’d forced her to say pussy. It was a concession she’d already made to me, but he didn’t know that and he wanted more.

“It is your pussy, but I’d rather call it a cunt. What kind of cunt is it Willow?”

She thought for a second before answering, “It’s full… so full… mmmm… it’s wet… and it’s... married… ooh, God, yes… it’s an adulterous pussy, Brock.”

“Do you like how I fuck your married cunt, Willow?”

She looked at me, sitting right next to Brock, but let truth reign, “God, yes… I love it  you’re better, oooh God… better than anybody ever, Brock.”

“Including your husband?”

She stared at me as she spoke, “Yes, Brock, you… ooh, God, yes … you do me… feels so good … much better than Jace.” I thought she didn’t need to emphasize the much so much, but it may have actually been her trigger.

She’d already been in a zone I’d never seen. Her eyes were glassy, sweat was pouring off, and that confession hit her dark twist with an explosion. She hunched with each intense spasm through another long orgasm, already two more than I’d ever given her.

He still hadn’t come and the Willow Switch between his legs was still rock hard and throbbing when she climbed off. He wasn’t done probing in his gynecologic exam, and the instrument he was probing with had already provided much relief for my wife’s affliction,

He obviously still wanted to provide more therapy, and he reached for her hips and turned her so she was facing away from him, “Back up. Let’s do reverse cowgirl so they can all see. We’ll watch them too.”

He must have been looking at our small audience while Willow rode him, but I hadn’t. I did now, and both other couples were naked, but none were yet interlocked in that most intimate of ways.

Willow was on her back, laying on his chest, when he inserted the Willow Switch again. Her light blonde pubic hair did little to conceal the view of their functioning junctions, and when I looked away for a second, both other couples were going at it in the missionary position. All four heads were turned to watch Willow and her boyfriend, and the Painful Welt’s lips could have easily whispered in his girlfriend’s ear, but he didn’t.

The Painful Welt wasn’t done, and once again he wanted everybody watching to also hear everything, “Did you ask?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“You’re not wearing one, are you?”

“You didn’t ask me to.”

“I did last night.”

“I guess I have my answer. You aren’t on the pill?”

“No, you know we want a baby.”

“You know where I’m going to come then?”

She reached for my hand, but talked to him, “You told me last night.”

“Is that what you want?”

She squeezed, “Yes, I want to feel it.”

They both turned their heads to look at me. I guess they expected more than my earlier nod.

I found my perversion was as twisted as a pretzel, “Your girlfriend is supposed to be at peak fertility today, but I hope I already made her pregnant.”

The Painful Welt’s words produced another welt, “I hope you didn’t.”

His girlfriend looked at me and her switch added another welt, “I hope I’m not too.”

That was a starting gun, and the rut was intense. Both were already near the top, and when they reached it at the same time, the peak was Himalayan.

She expressed her joy at finishing the ascent by addressing the reason, “Ooh… ooohhh… I can… ooohh… feel it… uuhh… you… shooting… I… know it… you just… ummm… knocked me up… ooh, God … I know it… aaahhhh… yes… yes.”

I wouldn’t have believed human orgasm could be so overpowering, and the tsunami struck both of them at the same time. I think there were many factors contributing, and it was a conjunction for a perfect storm.

The quake initiating the event was the fact that they were brand new lovers, which is always a pleasure jolt, but they weren’t so new that they didn’t have a little practice to find each others hot spots and triggers. Even without any of the other contributing factors, their peaks would have been epic just because of the relative newness.

Then there was an audience to increase both the amplitude and the frequency of the waves of pleasure when the tidal wave hit. As I later learned, it was the first time for either of them ‘doing it’ in public, and both of them loved the eyes focused on their most interesting junctions.

The cloudburst of a bride willing and anxious to surrender to another man on her honeymoon (with her new husband’s willing encouragement) drenched both of them in illicit sensuality. They both liked the idea that she was committing adultery so soon after her wedding day, and that they were flagrant about it.

The tornado was a bold man who sucked every dark dream from the depths of the bride’s fantasy (and her husband’s). The Painful Welt was bold, demanding, and physically impressive, and my wife loved his dominance.

Finally, the storm surge was a chance for the tornado-bold other man to knock up the submissive-to-her-boyfriend bride on her honeymoon, and the bride had just confessed that was the outcome she wanted and believed had just happened.

It was a category five star alignment as impressive as the one at Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Our dark fantasies were indeed deep and twisted, and all the alignment fed those fantasies with rich nutrients. If there was a Willow Line, it was still hidden, and the Willow Switch was steadily flogging my masculine self-esteem. Not all pain is physical, and not all pain is unwanted.

When I descended from my daze, the other couples must have come and gone, but I could only verify the gone part. I assumed they had come to the expected finish when intertwined, and I assumed they got dressed before they left, but I couldn’t swear to either conclusion. I’d been so focused on my wife and the Painful Welt that I ignored everything else going on around me.

I continued to sit next to them as they both caught their breath. They were sweating, and she was still splayed on her back on top of him. He was still inside, deflating, and almost absentmindedly caressing her breasts when he turned to look at me.

“Your wife is the best, Jace. The absolute best. You’re a lucky, lucky man.”

“Right now, you’re luckier, Brock.” I looked down so see his long superiority slip from its target, then looked into my wife’s eyes “You heard your girlfriend’s confession, Brock. So is she.”

Our eyes remained locked, “I’m sorry, Jace, honey.”

“Don’t be. I understand.”

Her confession inducer, the Willow Switch, was no longer hard, and its removal seemed to uncork the white, creamy, dangerous fluid that flowed out. Maybe because the opening was so stretched, there was not the drag resistance there was when I unplugged, or maybe her boyfriend just made a much larger deposit.

Either way, Willow let the impressive load pour out for at least a minute before she stood to clean up the danger that had just been deposited so deep inside her. She licked and slurped all the surperfluous waste from his abdomen first, but then held his confession producer and licked and sucked everything off of it too. The Willow Switch was already getting hard again from her loving ministrations, but his other decision maker decided not to continue on the smoking deck that was still smoking from the fire they had generated. I didn’t think it was fully extinguished.

The Painful Welt stood to pull his shorts on and I helped Willow slip her dress on, but didn’t button or belt. I hugged her, and then gave her another wedding gift.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when you and Brock bring the printed photos.”

“You’ll let me sleep overnight with him?”

My throb still ached and it was still fully pressurized from blood when she pulled me in for a French kiss. She hugged me and shimmied against my urge center, and its continued rampancy proved that center was still dominant. My logic center wondered if there had ever been a man more stupid. I had just let my dark fantasy trample logic.

I flogged myself with the Willow Switch from the Painful Welt, but the pain I felt was also a big drop further down into my fantasy, I pulled back from the kiss and looked into her eyes and let libido continue to trample logic.

“Not just tonight. You’re Brock’s for the rest of the trip, except you need to eat dinner with me.”

She hugged and shimmied harder, “I love you, honey. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It will just be for the trip, Jace.”

“A honeymoon to remember.”

She looked into my eyes, “We’ll remember it together for the rest of our lives.”

I felt better,

“I love you, Willow. Let yourself go for the rest of our honeymoon. We won’t ever see any of these people again, so don’t hold back because you worry about being embarrassed.”

“I will, honey.” She stopped for a second, but then continued, “I’ll… I’ll let go… I’ll do as you ask.”

She was still hunching against me, driving me deeper into the darkness inside, “Do as Brock asks then. He knows how to make you let go.”

“I will Jace… I’ll … I’ll love, honor, and… obey my boyfriend.”

Well, that was the embodiment of not holding back, but I went with it,

“That’s right, love, honor, and obey Brock, and for the rest of the trip, he’s your honeymoon husband, not your boyfriend.”

”What if he does make me pregnant, honey? Should I get a morning-after pill?”

“That’s up to you, but I think I already heard your decision.”

“You’ll even let that happen?”

“I won’t touch you for the rest of the trip. You’re his.”

I backed away. She went to her honeymoon husband, and the Painful Welt’s arms welcomed her. Why wouldn’t he? He was my second wedding gift to her, but all of a sudden I was giving my wife as a gift to him. If giving is more satisfying than receiving, a brainwashing gimmick in my mind, I had to be sitting at the top of satisfied mountain. My upper control center didn’t feel that way.

The Painful Welt hadn’t said anything since he uncorked, but finally spoke, “I’ll respect and honor your wife, Jace.”

“I know you will. Take her to new places, Brock.” He knew I wasn’t talking about geography.

As I watched them walk away with their arms around each other, I was confused by myself. Was I schizophrenic?

And I now believed her honeymoon husband. The Painful Welt’s contention that she had come seven or eight times last night was fully believable because she had already crossed that threshold five times tonight.

I found out that the Painful Welt’s dominance over Willow was an arousal tool on me as well, one I never expected before our marriage. The ache in my blue balls was not the unpleasant feeling I was used to when I had them, but was now just another tickle to my dark fantasy. I was still hunting for a pen to draw the Jace Line when my drooping eyelids snatched it from my hands.

My wife still had an undrawn Willow Line too, and I knew it was a long way from what I guessed when I started pushing. I wondered whether there even was a Willow Line.

I also knew that I wasn’t the one pushing to find it anymore. The Painful Welt was going to be the one probing to find it, and the Willow Switch was going to be his probe for the rest of the cruise, a probe that would probably leave my wife carrying his genes in a new fetus at the end of our honeymoon.