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Hey Friends! Hope everyone is having a great back-to-school season. As mentioned before, I've been working on a short the last couple of months during my downtime. This one is a bit more uplifting than the last few chapters I've released so it helped keep me sane :)

Would love to hear what you all think of it, I don't write in first person much so it's always a fun thought excercise when I do. Do you love the story? Hate it? Want it to become something bigger?

In other news, I'm close to wrapping up the next chapter of EP. It should be dropping to the Insider tier later this week.

Lastly, expect another poll to drop in the next few weeks. With Newlyweds winding down, we need to decide what the next great novel will be. Enjoy!

I sat alone on the beach, waves crashing over my body as my feet carved deeper trenches in the sand. My shirt clung to my chest, soaked through with saltwater, and every breath I took filled my lungs with the scent of seaweed and coconut sunscreen.

Most people would be distracted by the women in bikinis splashing nearby. I could even use that as an excuse for why my cock strained against my trunks, but that would be a lie. The real reason had to do with what happened thirty minutes ago, when I kissed my wife goodbye and watched her walk toward the hotel bar to meet another man.

Gemma and I were in Hawaii celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary. Even after all these years, she still made my pulse race when she tucked that blonde hair behind her ear and still gave me that smirk like she could read every thought in my head when she caught me staring. Maybe that was why tonight she'd decided to wear the blue sundress that matched her eyes, the one that was cut so low that it made it impossible to concentrate.

We were married in a small chapel just outside her hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio. Both of us were new lawyers at a small firm, so the honeymoon had to wait. She’d always dreamed of coming to Hawaii, and I promised her one day I would make that dream a reality.

A seagull cried overhead. I let sand run through my fingers and tried to remember how we'd gotten here. How the thing that would make any normal man red-hot with jealousy and anger made me so hard it hurt.

The waves pulled back, leaving foam around my ankles. Somewhere behind me, in the hotel's tiki bar, my brilliant, beautiful wife was letting another man tuck her hair behind her ear, stare at her perfect body while she laughed way too hard at one of his jokes. And I was left wondering if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life, or if our marriage was about to get a whole lot more fun.

It was our wedding night that changed everything. When our boss, with wandering hands and a bit too much alcohol, asked Gemma for a dance.

***

The reception was just starting to wind down. Everyone drunk, or getting there as champagne flutes reflected the last flicker of candlelight. The DJ, a guy with a man-bun and designer glasses, turned on some new age pop song and dozens of drunken guests rushed the makeshift dance floor. I watched Gemma, my new bride, as she made her rounds thanking guests for coming, and laughed every time her sister would whisper something in her ear.

I still couldn’t believe this beauty had said yes to a guy like me. Not that I’m some scrub. At just over six feet, I hold my own. I played football in high school, ran track in college, and kept the build to prove it. But Gemma… in that dress… Her blonde hair shimmered under the moonlight, the faint glitter in it catching every flicker of light. She looked almost angelic, if not for the way that low neckline made my thoughts anything but holy. At the ceremony, her arms and the top of her chest had been hidden beneath a wrap. Now they were bare, smooth, and close enough to make me restless. I shifted in my seat, the bottle cold in my hand as I took another drink, watching those blue eyes sparkle with laughter.

I was lost in watching her when a voice beside me broke the spell. "Hell of a party." I turned around and saw Richard Carver, our managing partner, materialize beside me. He was in his early fifties, with a similar build to me that suggested that despite his age, he'd kept up with the gym. In fact, the only hint of Mr. Carver being older at all was his salt-and-pepper hair. He clapped me on the shoulder, pulling me closer with his handshake like a man who was used to being the one calling the shots.

"Mr. Carver," I started, but he waved me off.

"Richard, please. We're family here." He gestured around the venue, a restored Victorian mansion overlooking the river. "I hope this place is to your liking," he said with a smile that could disarm the hardest of criminals. "You two certainly clean up nice." He was speaking to me, but it was clear his attention had shifted to just over my shoulder.

Gemma appeared at my elbow, her hand sliding around my waist. "Richard, thank you again for everything. I still can't believe you arranged all of this." She released my waist, reaching out to take his hand. "When you said the firm wanted to do something special for us, I never imagined—"

"Nonsense. We are a family at Lockheed and Carver. It doesn't matter if you've been a part of it for ten years, or ten days." He raised his champagne flute in a toast, taking a slow sip while his eyes shifted from Gemma's face down to the exposed skin where her wrap used to be, then back up again. The look lasted maybe three seconds too long. Long enough for me to notice, long enough to feel something shift in my chest. I waited for the surge of anger, the protective instinct that should have had me stepping between them. Instead, I found myself studying Gemma's reaction, wondering how she would react. She was still smiling, still radiant, like she didn't notice at all, or just didn't care. That realization sent an unexpected bolt of lightning through my system.

"You're a lucky man, Paul. If I were a few years younger she could have been ex-wife number three."

His laugh was infectious, even if his joke made us give each other a concerned look.

"Oh Richard," Gemma swatted his arm playfully. "You know I'd only marry you for your money." A playful smile danced across her lips. She had always been comfortable with attention, knew how to handle compliments with grace and just enough flirtation to make someone feel special.

"Ha! Just like wife number two." Richard's eyes danced across her exposed skin and I felt heat rising up my neck.

The band shifted into a slow ballad, and Richard straightened, extending his hand to my wife. "May I dance with the bride? I promise to return her in one piece."

"Of course," Gemma said placing her hand in his.

I headed to the bar, ordered a vodka Redbull, and tried to look casual while watching them on the dance floor. Richard's hand settled respectfully on her waist as they began to sway. Gemma tilted her head back to say something, and he leaned in to catch her words over the music. She laughed, in the same way she did with everyone. Her smile bright and genuine, like you were the funniest person in the room.

The song stretched on. Richard's hand had shifted lower, not dramatically, just enough that his fingers now rested along the curve of her hip. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, taking a long drink as I watched his fingers extend, getting closer to what would be considered inappropriate. Gemma was just as animated as ever, telling some story that made Richard's eyes crinkle in amusement, and allowed him to pull her a little closer.

A metallic taste mixed with the redbull and I realized I was chewing so hard on my cheek I drew blood. Richard leaned in, whispering something to Gemma that caused her to throw her head back in laughter. Richard's gaze never left her chest. I nearly dropped my glass, my hands suddenly clammy as that comment kept echoing in my head:

ex-wife number three.

A mix of emotions twisted in my stomach. A deadly combination that made my pulse quicken, my pants tighten, and my stomach feel like I was going to throw up at any moment. I was transfixed, I couldn't stop staring at them. The way Gemma laid her head on his chest, the lack of any gap between their bodies. Richard's hands slid over her ass, just for a second, and I swear I thought I was having a heart attack. Then, the song ended and his hands were at his side.

I downed the rest of my drink, suddenly feeling like a fish stranded on a desert beach. Richard kissed Gemma's hand, then leaned in and whispered something else in her ear. This time, her eyes went wide in shock, then she giggled and swatted his chest playfully before the two walked back in my direction arm in arm.

"Ready to call it a night and head up to our room... husband?" It took a second to process her words. Her cheeks looked flushed, her breathing faster than normal. Was that because of Richard, or the thought of going upstairs?

I got out of my own head before Gemma realized anything was wrong. We walked toward the elevator as husband and wife, Richard Carver all but forgotten at the bar.

Gemma was all over me the second the elevator door closed. She pressed her lips to my cheek, then peppered my jawline with soft kisses. Her hands already pulling at my shirt, wanting to feel the heat of my body against hers.

"What has you all worked up?" I asked, helping her with my shirt.

"Can't a new wife just want to consummate her marriage?" Her nails scraped against my bare abdomen, making me sigh in pleasure.

"You sure it doesn't have anything to do with how handsy Richard was on the dance floor?" I cursed myself the moment I said it. Her body went stiff, and she pulled back examining my face.

"Are you jealous?" That was a great question, and one I wasn't sure how to answer.

The elevator dinged at our floor, saving me from having to respond immediately. We walked down the hallway in silence, her heels in her hand, I hadn't even noticed her take them off. I fumbled with the keycard, my hands still shaky from whatever the hell had just happened downstairs.

Our suite was exactly as I'd left it. Rose petals stretched from the doorway to the king-sized bed where champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice. But I could barely focus on any of that. All I could see was Richard’s fingers on her ass, the flash of her eyes when she’d giggled at his whisper. My pulse kicked harder.

"Well?" Gemma turned to face me, arms crossed, that direct stare that meant she wasn't dropping this. "Are you going to answer me?"

Instead of responding, I kissed her. Hard. My hands found her face, pulling her against me with a desperation that surprised us both. She melted into me immediately, her body pressing against mine as if she'd been waiting for exactly this response. My hand slid down her body, ending at her ass, just like Richard. I grabbed her taut cheek, more possessive than I'd ever grabbed her before, and pulled her sex into my thigh.

She pushed off me with a sigh, her eyes blazing with desire. "Help me with the zipper."

I slid the zipper down slowly, revealing the smooth expanse of her back and the white lace of her lingerie. She stepped out of the dress, skin flushed pink from champagne and excitement, then turned to face me. My jaw went slack. God, she was beautiful. The bra pushed her breasts high, not that they needed much help, the sheer cups giving just enough away to show the outline of her nipples, pale pink and tight with excitement. The panties matched, riding high on her hips and dipping low in front, the lace framing smooth, bare skin.

"You're overdressed," she said with a smirk, pushing me back onto the bed and sending rose petals flying.

She kneeled between my legs and began unbuttoning my pants, looking up at me through her long lashes. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thighs as she eased the zipper down, the faint rasp of metal sending a shiver through me. When she slid them past my hips, a soft moan left her lips.

Gemma leaned forward, pressing a kiss just above my waistband, then another, lower, until my hips were lifting off the bed and she had my pants and boxers around my ankles. The warmth of her breath made my muscles tense. Her hand wrapped around me as she pulled my legs free, then she kissed her way back up my thighs. "I've been waiting all night for this," she teased, running her tongue slowly along the underside of my cock.

I let out a long, involuntary sigh and sank back into the bed, running my hands through her hair. "So have I, Mrs. Johnson."

The use of my last name seemed to send a spark through her. Her palm dropped to my sac, rolling the orbs gently between her fingers as she sank her warmth around my shaft and hollowed her cheeks. "Ooooh," The sound slipped from me in a low moan, my eyes snapping shut. But in the dark behind my lids, I didn't see Gemma on her knees in front of me. I saw her on the dance floor laughing at whatever Richard was saying. And then, just as her tongue swirled around my crown, the image changed and her lips were around him.

My stomach tightened.

"God, I don't think I've ever seen you this hard," she whispered, the words vibrating against me.

My eyes snapped open. Disgust, sharp and unexpected, cut through the haze. I reached for her, my hands sliding to her shoulders, pulling her up my body until our faces were level.

"I need you," I said, pulling the lace of her underwear to the side and feeling her warm, slick heat against me.

"I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Johnson," she purred, lining herself up. I groaned when I discovered just how wet she really was. She sheathed me with little resistance.

Her body was on fire, her walls drawing me in with each slow roll of her hips. She moaned above me, her eyes shut tight, lost in her own thoughts. Her hair spilled forward, hiding her face slightly as she bit her lip.

"God, you feel so good, baby. You feel so big." She was working herself into a frenzy and I knew neither of us were going to last long.

"What did he say to you?" The question came out of left field, and for a moment her hips stopped working as she blinked her eyes open and looked at me.

"Huh? Who?"

"Richard." I grabbed her hips, making her resume her pace. "When the song ended. He whispered something to you. What was it?"

She hesitated, looking down on me trying to read my expression. "Paul... He was drunk. It doesn't..."

"But what did he say?" I bucked into her, making her cry out, her nails digging into my chest.

"Uggh," she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut, her movement becoming more urgent. Was she thinking about him now? "He... he told me if I wanted a wedding I wouldn't forget I should come to his room."

My balls tightened, my cock swelled. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe hard enough. I arched my back, clutching at the sheets, and exploded inside Gemma's tight pussy.

"Ohhh Paul..." she moaned. A hand shot between her thighs as she worked her clit furiously, joining me a moment later in bliss.

Later, lying next to my bride in the dark, my head spun trying to understand why those words had affected me so intensely. Why the image they planted made me lose all control.

***

The waves had shifted direction, now pulling sand from beneath my feet instead of depositing it. I checked my phone, no messages. It had been over an hour since Gemma walked into that bar.

Over an hour since I'd watched her smooth her dress, check her lipstick in the mirror, and head down to meet him for drinks. Over an hour since I'd made the decision that had led us to this moment.

It happened by happenstance, like so many of these moments do. We'd been sharing an appetizer at the resort's oceanfront restaurant when Gemma took a sip of her wine and then looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"It can't be. Gemma Johnson, is that you?"

I recognized the voice, but I couldn't quite place it, not until I turned in my chair and saw Richard Carver making a beeline for us. He looked different. He was leaner, tanned. His hair was shaggier, the salt-and-pepper gone, and now a solid dark brown. But that smile, the way his laugh seemed to echo through the restaurant and turn every head in the building, that was very much the same.

"Paul!" He'd made it over to our table before he even bothered looking my way. "I'm so glad to see the two of you still together. I can't believe we're bumping into each other like this. What are the odds?"

He slapped my back, pulling me into one of those firm handshakes that turned into a brief embrace. When he released me, his attention shifted to Gemma. I caught the way he drew his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes traveled over her, lingering on the way her sundress clung to her waist before sliding down her tanned legs and slowly back up again. He stepped forward and pulled her close, her chest pressing into his through the low cut of her dress. And just like that, I was back at our wedding reception, watching those same appreciative glances, feeling that same twisted heat rise in my chest.

"Richard, what are you doing here?" Gemma asked. She twisted out of his hug, but not completely, letting his hand rest on her back like it belonged there. Three years since he retired early, three years since we’d seen him.

"Surfing retreat," he said, grinning. "Trying to find a new hobby."

His hand finally slid away from her waist and only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath like an idiot.

"After Wife Number Three took me to the cleaners…" He looked straight at Gemma when he said it, like it was their little joke. "I figured I needed a little fun in the sun." She blushed, actually blushed, and it hit me square in the chest. My cock stiffened on the spot, steel in my pants while I stood there smiling like a fool.

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "You really punched above your weight class with this one." He nudged my arm the way older men do, casual but claiming space. "I’m actually headed to a lesson now, but we should catch up properly. How about drinks at the tiki bar later? Say, nine o’clock?"

Gemma glanced at me, then seeing my deer-in-headlights look, took the initiative. "We'd love that. It's been too long," she said, watching me squirm out of the corner of her eye.

"Great, I can't wait to let loose a little." This time he didn't even pretend to look my way, before giving Gemma another hug and disappearing into the crowd.

Gemma slipped back into her seat across from me once Richard disappeared into the crowd. For a moment we just sat there, the noise of the resort humming around us.

"Well," she said lightly, though her eyes searched mine, "that was unexpected."

"Yeah," I muttered, still trying to process what had just happened and why I was about to say the dumbest words of my life. "Drinks could be… fun. But maybe you should go without me."

Her lips parted in surprise, then closed again as she chewed the corner of her lip. She took a sip of wine, studying me like she was trying to crack a code.

"Without you?" she asked softly, though I could see the fire building behind her eyes.

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. "I didn’t really get the sense it was my company he was after."

"Is… is that a good idea?"

I didn’t answer. My cock throbbed between my legs, shame and arousal knotting together. How could I tell her it felt like the best and the worst idea at the same time?

Her foot brushed mine under the table, then slid higher until I felt her toes pressing firmly against my inner thigh. She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around me.

"You know this is a bad idea, don’t you?"

My mouth went dry. I could only nod.

"I mean… what if he still wants to show me what I was missing on my wedding night?" she whispered, her big blue eyes holding me while her foot pressed directly against my cock.

Heat rushed through me, and I swear I was already close to the edge.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she bit her lip, studying me. "Even knowing that, you still want me to go alone?"

"I… I do," I managed to choke out.

"Mmm." She let the sound linger, her foot moving faster. "Interesting choice of words, Paul."

I pushed her foot away, heart hammering. I couldn’t take another second of it. I had almost exploded right there in the middle of the restaurant.

Now, standing alone in the surf, that moment felt both like a lifetime ago and like it had just happened. What had I been thinking? What kind of husband encourages his wife to have drinks with another man, especially one who'd once propositioned her on their wedding night?

I checked my phone again. Still nothing.

Were they even still at the bar? Maybe they'd skipped drinks altogether. Maybe Richard had suggested they go somewhere more private, his room, or worse, back to ours. Were they there right now, in the bed where Gemma and I had made love just this morning? Was she between his thighs asking him to show her exactly what she'd missed out on?

My stomach lurched. I sat down hard in the sand, my head spinning with images I couldn't shake. Gemma's cries of passion echoing through our suite. Her dress discarded on the floor beside another man's clothes. The look in her eyes when she discovered what she'd been missing all these years. Was he making her scream, to beg for it?

The rational part of my mind tried to intervene. They were probably just talking, catching up on old times, sharing stories about their lives since leaving the firm. But the darker part, the part that had been dormant since our wedding night, whispered different possibilities.

I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling like a teenager dealing with emotions too big for his body. This was insane. Normal husbands didn't send their wives off to meet other men. Normal husbands didn't get aroused by the thought of someone else fucking their partner.

But I'd stopped being a normal husband five years ago, hadn't I? The moment I'd discovered that another man's desire for my wife turned me on instead of filling me with rage, I'd crossed into territory I didn't understand.

I'd spent five years trying to understand why. Our sex life was good, better than most couples, probably. Gemma was passionate, adventurous, always eager. We had chemistry, timing, all the technical elements that relationship articles insisted mattered.

But it was never electric the way it had been that first night. Never desperate or consuming. I told myself that was normal, that wedding nights were supposed to be special, that married couples settled into comfortable rhythms.

Then came the night at Flanagan's Bar. The night I finally understood what I had been chasing all along.

***

It was almost a year ago to the day. It was raining so hard you could barely see three feet in front of you, and by the time I made it across the parking lot and into Flanagan's I was drenched and already forty minutes late. I'd spent the last three hours trying to explain to a client that patent law required actual paperwork. I'd sent Gemma a text to let her know, but I never got a response back. As I stood in the doorway, dripping onto the tile floor I scanned the bar looking for her.

I found her at the far end, perched on a barstool with her back to me, wearing a short black dress. But she wasn't alone.

A guy in a navy blazer sat on the stool next to her. He looked to be in his early forties, short military-style haircut, and some type of intricate tattoo covered his arm beneath the shirt that looked like it was designed to show off just how ripped he was. Gemma seemed to be giving him her full attention.

I told myself I was going to walk over, as soon as I was dried off a little. The competitor in me even said I would give her a proper kiss when I did, mark my territory and all that. I slid into a booth in the corner, I just needed a minute to not be dripping wet, it was just a coincidence that this seat seemed to be hidden in the corner.

She laughed at something he said, her head tilted back in a way that made her entire face light up. When she reached for her wine glass, her hand brushed his arm, looking up at him through her lashes.

My pulse quickened. Was she flirting?

The man next to her leaned closer to be heard over the noise, and Gemma flashed him her brightest smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. My cock stirred, my body beyond dry, yet I stayed sunk deeper in the booth.

Heat coiled in my stomach, that same twisted rush of emotions I’d first felt on our wedding night. I should have been angry. It was past time to march over and put an end to whatever this was. Instead, I sat there, watching my wife charm another man and getting harder by the second.

Then her eyes found mine across the crowded room.

My heart stopped. Panic shot through me like I'd been caught stealing. Would she be angry? Embarrassed? I waited for the flash of irritation, the sharp look that would send me skulking over with my tail between my legs. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. Just a slight lift, barely perceptible to anyone else, but it made my pulse race even faster, and my leg bounce with nervous energy.

I didn't move. The rational part of my brain screamed at me to get up, to end this before it went too far. But my body was betraying me, responding to the sight of my wife with another man. Flashes of our wedding blending with reality that made my dick like steel.

Gemma held my gaze for another moment, then turned back to the stranger. But something had shifted. The casual touches became more frequent. When she laughed now, she leaned into him, her hand lingering on his chest. She was putting on a show, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Was she really doing this? Was I really okay with it?

I found myself wondering how far we were going to let this go. Would she kiss him? Sneak away with him in the bathroom? Without realizing it, my hand had found my manhood under the table, grazing it slightly with my palm as I continued to spiral.

He moved closer, emboldened by her attention. His hand settled on her knee, just below the hem of her dress, fingers resting against her bare skin. I held my breath, waiting for her to push him away, to establish boundaries the way she always did with overly forward men.

She didn't.

Instead, she said something that made her bite her lip. My cock throbbed and I knew I needed to pull my hand away. I watched her lean in, her lips nearly brushing his ear as she whispered something back.

Stop her, my rational mind screamed. Get up. Walk over there. End this before it goes too far.

But I was paralyzed by my own arousal, by the sick thrill of watching my wife flirt with another man while I sat in the shadows like some voyeur. The idea that she knew I was watching, and that it only seemed to make her bolder, twisted inside me. We had never talked about our wedding night, about the fireworks that came after she danced with Richard. But it was clear now that we both understood what it was, and maybe on some level we were both okay with it.

Gemma whispered something else in his ear, her fingers threading through his hair. This time, when she pulled back, I saw her tongue dart out to trace the outside of his ear. I thought I may explode right there in the bar.

When his hand moved across her leg to her thigh, that's when she finally stood up. For a second I imagined her grabbing him by the hand and leading him through the crowd to the restroom in the back. My breathing became ragged as I pictured him pinning her against the sink, hiking up her short dress...

"We need to leave," she said breaking me from my fantasy and appearing in front of my booth. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice a high whisper. "Now."

I stood on unsteady legs, still processing what I'd just witnessed. "That was..."

"I know." She glanced back toward the bar, then smiled at me with that mischievous look I'd fallen in love with. "I told him I needed to use the restroom."

"Gemma." I searched her face, trying to understand what had just happened between us.

"Knowing you were watching, seeing that look on your face..." She squeezed my hand. "Take me home, Paul." She leaned in close, her hand brushing the front of my slacks. "And fuck me like you're him."

I couldn't get out of the bar fast enough.

***

I couldn't sit on that beach for another second. The memory of Flanagan's, combined with the silence from Gemma's phone, had wound me so tight I felt like I might snap. I adjusted the erection in my pants, chastising myself for being so turned on by such a fucked up thought.

The walk back to the hotel felt endless. Every step through the humid night air amplified my anxiety until my shirt was sticking to my back and my hands were shaking. I stopped several times thinking I was either going to vomit or cum before making it back up to the hotel.

The tiki bar came into view first, its bamboo torches flickering in the ocean breeze. The crash of the waves behind me had vanished, drowned out by the sound of my heartbeat as I scanned the crowded area. I tried to look as casual as possible. Tried to hide the panic in my eyes as I looked from couples sharing drinks, to friends laughing over appetizers.

No Gemma. No Richard.

I circled the bar twice, checking every corner, every dimly lit booth. Maybe they'd moved to the dance floor? I pushed through the crowd of tourists swaying to the steel drum band, searching faces in the strobing lights. Nothing.

My heart rate spiked as I checked the pool area next, the hot tubs. I imagined Gemma there, in her bikini that showed off her perfect heart-shaped ass. I imagined Richard, palming it, kissing her neck. My cock jumped at the thought. They weren't there.

I checked the 24-hour cafe next just off the main lobby, my breathing labored making the staff believe I had sprinted the entire way there. They'd definitely moved somewhere more private. The knock in my chest magnified as I realized I had no idea what room Richard was staying in. I'd never thought to ask. What if they were there right now? Gemma on her back, her strong thighs wrapped around Richard's frame. Was she moaning his name, telling him how much she wished she'd taken him up on that offer five years ago?

I pulled out my phone and stared at the blank screen. Still nothing.

The elevator ride to our floor felt like it lasted an hour. I didn't have a plan really. I didn't know where else to look so all I could think to do was come back to our room and wait. Would she be home tonight? In the morning? Would she smell like him, taste like him? I imagined pushing into her, reclaiming her after her night of infidelity. Would she feel the same? Would I still groan when I felt her velvet grip wrap around me?

Then I heard it.

Soft moaning, Gemma's unmistakable gasp. I stumbled into the railing, my vision blurring.

I froze three feet from our door, my blood turning to ice water. It was real. It was happening. Right now, on the other side of this door, my wife was with another man.

"Oh God, yes," I heard her gasp. "Just like that. Don't stop."

I heard his groan, the sound of flesh meeting hers and my legs buckled. I almost ran, wanting to give them privacy. I felt like a pervert, my ear pressed against the door as I listened to another breathless gasp from Gemma. My cock hardened instantly, even as nausea twisted in my stomach.

"Harder," Gemma's muffled voice said from the other side of the door. "I'm so close."

"You like getting fucked, baby?"

Baby? They were already using pet names for each other? Why did that somehow make this entire experience feel even worse?

"Yes... Oh, God, yessss."

My hand found the front of my pants, pressing lightly against my throbbing erection through the wet fabric of my pants. I needed to make a decision. I couldn't stay out here forever. Someone was going to see me, call the authorities, or worse.

The pace of the sounds increased. Gemma cried out, a sound of pure pleasure that sent electricity straight through me. They were getting close to finishing. I could hear it in her cries of passion, in the way her breathing was becoming more rapid.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to see for myself. I wanted... I wanted to watch my wife cum with another man. My hand found the keycard before I could stop myself, sliding it into the lock with shaking fingers.

I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, preparing myself for the sight of my wife with Richard Carver.

Instead, I saw Gemma alone on our bed, completely naked, her skin flushed and gleaming with sweat. One hand moved between her thighs while the other gripped the sheets. Her eyes were closed, her tongue hanging from her mouth.

"Uggnh, fuck," she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed.

I blinked, looking around the room in shock. Where was Richard? The TV sat on the other side of the room, mounted on the wall. On it, a couple were fucking hard, the man's grunts filling my ears. The same grunts, that I'd heard from the other side of the door.

I looked back to Gemma, my mouth hanging open in shock. Her fingers were still moving between her legs, but they had slowed. My gaze traveled up her body, locking eyes with her.

"Hi, baby," she said, her voice husky with arousal, her smile beaming. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. "Where's... where's Richard?"

"Later," she whispered. "First, get over here and fuck me."

I couldn't get out of my clothes fast enough. I pulled my shirt over my head, tripping around the room as I tried to kick off my shoes at the same time.

Gemma's fingers never stopped working her clit as she bit her lip.

"Hurry," she whispered as my pants hit the floor. "Mmm, you're already so hard." I watched as two fingers slipped into her glistening slit, then crawled over her replacing her digits with my tongue.

"Ohhh, yesssss, baby." Her fingers, still wet from her juices, curled into my hair, pressing me harder into her smooth slit.

Her taste was intoxicating, her juices coating my face as I flicked my tongue over her swollen nub. Her pussy was like a furnace. Her hips bucked wildly as I closed my lips around her clit, pulling gently. Was it Richard who got her this wet? Was she imagining him instead of me?

"Unnngh, Yes, Paul. Oh, God, baby." She yanked me up by my hair and crashed her mouth against mine, tasting herself on my lips, panting into my mouth as our teeth clanked together.

Hearing her say my name made my chest swell with pride. But some twisted part of my mind wondered if Richard could make her sound like that.

"Fuck me, baby," she pleaded. "I need to feel you inside me." She reached between my legs, grasping my cock before I have time to react. Her strokes are rapid, desperate. She pulls me forward, guiding my shaft against her sex.

She was soaked, her pussy pulsing in anticipation. For a second I wondered if it's because of the porno she was watching, or from whatever happened with Richard. Then, I'm inside her.

She releases her stored breath all at once, her wet grip pulling me like I'd never felt. She's tight. Way tighter than if she had actually... My cock flexes, pushing deeper inside her.

"Uhh, God. Uhh, fuck, Paul." Her mouth is on mine again, her tongue, sliding wildly into my mouth. As we shift, I sink deeper, her nails clawing at my back and driving me forward another inch.

"Harder, baby. Fuck me harder." Her heels dig into my back, pulling me completely inside her. I grab her right leg, pulling it over my shoulder.

"Yessss," she moans, through gritted teeth, arching her full chest out for me to take in my mouth.

My lips clamp down on her nipple, and I take her hand, guiding it between our bodies where my cock is thrusting furiously in and out of her. Her fingers tease her clit, another sigh breaking from behind her lips as I bite down on her taut nipple. Her nails scraped across my balls as she works her hand faster, desperate for release.

"Right there, baby. Fuck... don't stop."

I wouldn't dream of stopping, not now. I can feel her orgasm approaching, her walls convulsing around me as her breathing gets more ragged in my ear.

"OH MY GOD I'M CUMMMING!" She cried, arms reaching out to her sides and raking at the sheets.

Words failed me as Gemma’s cunt clamped around me. my vision blurred, my ears began to ring. I thrust harder into her, groaning as Gemma's grip refused to give way. My cock started to swell, I was right on the verge.

Gemma grabbed my neck, pulling me into another intense kiss, her hips lifting and falling, desperate to get me there. Her lips found my ear, her breath heavy. "He... he kissed me, Paul. I... I kissed Richard."

The world went white. A million different thoughts crashed over me and I threw my head back and roared as I exploded inside of her. I filled her, and kept filling her. I had never cum so hard in my life. Each throb of my cock brought a new gasp from her lips. Her hips rolled under me determined to milk every last drop

When I finally finished I collapsed onto her, my body completely spent. She held me close, her fingers ghosting over my sweat-covered back as my cock began to soften. I wanted to fuck her again, right then, but knew that first we needed to talk. I needed to know exactly what happened with Richard.

She sensed it as well, cuddling into me for a couple more minutes before uncrossing her legs from my body and letting them fall to her side. "Fuck… that was." She was trying to catch her breath, trying to discuss the elephant in the room. "You were really turned on."

I was thankful my face was buried in her neck, so she couldn’t see the way I blushed, but she could feel it in the way my body reacted.

“So… what exactly happened between the two of you?” I asked, rolling off her body and staring at the ceiling fan as it tried to cool the flames leaping from my body.

She sat up in the bed, her hair matted to her face as she tried to get her breathing under control.

"I... I went down to have a drink with him. when he asked where you were I told him you weren't coming." She paused to study my face. "As soon as I said that, it was like he knew. He became more touchy-feely, started asking me more personal questions."

My chest tightened. "What kind of questions?"

She looked away, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. "About us. About our marriage. He asked if we'd ever done this with other people before." She gave a nervous laugh.

Even though I'd just cum, I felt my cock start to respond. I wanted her to rush to the end, to the kiss. But, I knew better than to interrupt her.

"I told him no, and then," she paused, sucking on her bottom lip. "His hand was on my leg, and starting to slide higher." Her gaze locked with mine and I could see the fire behind her eyes. "I was so turned on, Paul. Like, for a minute I thought about letting him run his hand higher. To touch my..."

A pulse of heat shot through my body. I was holding my breath. "Did... did he?"

She giggled. She didn't slap me, or call me a pervert. She just laughed, like it was the silliest question in the world. "No. That's when he leaned in and..."

"And kissed you?"

Her blue eyes softened, and she nodded. "Just for a second, but I... I kissed him back."

I swallowed hard, my mind replaying it a hundred different ways. Richard leaning in, Gemma not stopping him, maybe even tilting her head to give him better access. My cock twitched against my thigh, proving to Gemma I wasn't upset.

"And then?" My voice cracked.

She swallowed. "Then I sort of freaked out." She laughed. A real laugh this time, that drew me in. By the time we had stopped, she was wiping tears from her eyes. "I think the kiss sort of woke me up. I pushed his hand away and told him I needed to leave. He stood up, probably to try to stop me, but I was already rushing back here."

"And all this?" I said, with a laugh, pointing to the porno still blaring in the background.

Her cheeks flushed, but her smile didn’t fade. "That was for you." She shrugged, almost sheepish, but her eyes glittered. "When I left him, I was… wound up. My head was spinning, my body was on fire."

I frowned. "So you put that on?"

She nodded. "I thought… I knew you would eventually come up and if you heard me, if you thought…" She trailed off, biting her lip, waiting for my reaction. "I wanted to make it real for you. I didn't want to do something we couldn't take back."

My chest tightened as her words sank in. I wanted to laugh, to thank her, to kiss her, but instead I just sat there, staring. I couldn't believe how far she'd gone to give me what I wanted, all while ensuring we weren't getting in over our heads.

"I..." I reached for her, pulling her back into my arms, my lips finding hers. This time there was no desperation, there was just love. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, her palm finding my cock, hard and ready.

"I love you, Paul," she whispered as I sank back into her.

***

Light spilled into the room, the smell of salt drifting through the open balcony doors as Gemma rested her head on my chest. We’d fallen asleep after making love, the closeness between us like nothing I’d ever known.

“So,” Gemma said, breaking the silence, “was this enough? Or are we actually doing it for real next time?”

The question sat there, pressing down on the world around us. I felt her heart flutter against my ribs, the hitch in her breath as she waited.

Instead of answering directly, I rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath me. She laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Ask me again in a week,” I said, kissing her neck. “When we’re back home and neither of us are thinking about Richard.”

“You can’t possibly be ready aga—”

I pushed into her, cutting her off with a sigh. Her body still burned for me, her walls molding around me, holding me in place.

“I can’t get enough of you,” I whispered, keeping the pace slow as our eyes locked.

Outside our window, surfers were already charging the waves, the ocean swallowing them whole. Richard was probably out there too, bronzed and confident as ever.

Inside, Gemma writhed beneath me, her cries muffled against my shoulder. We didn’t know what the future held. But for now, the spark between us burned brighter than it had in years.