My Husband Wanted Everyone to Look at Me That Night

I hadn’t told anyone anything for months. My husband and I had been playing our games for a while, the kind that start with a joke in bed and end up becoming something you don’t know how to name. That summer, we took a step that changed us both.

I spent the first week of our vacation with my parents in an apartment they owned facing the sea. My husband, Hugo, was arriving on Saturday, and on Sunday the two of us were heading off alone to another coastal city. He had been insisting on the same idea for quite some time.

—There’s a nudist beach near the hotel —he’d told me weeks earlier, as though it were nothing special—. I want to see you there. With your pussy out in the open and the whole beach watching you.

I had never even gone topless. At first he’d been jealous, and, to be fair, I had given him some reason to be. But something between us had reversed itself, and now he was the one who wanted to show me off, the one who got hard just thinking about other eyes on my body.

For the trip I put on a short dress, one of those stretchy ones that clung to everything. At the first bar where we stopped, Hugo asked me to take off my underwear. He said it quietly, looking at me over the top of the menu, and I did it in the bathroom without thinking too much about it. When I returned to the table and sat down, the cool fabric against my naked pussy made me squeeze my thighs together.

This is going to be a long trip.

***

The hotel was beautiful. The room had a living room, a kitchenette, and a huge bedroom, but the best part was the terrace: sea views, a hot tub, and a small table with two chairs, all overlooking the horizon.

—Take some pictures of me before we go down to eat —I said.

Hugo took advantage of it to hike my dress up between shots. His hand moved from my hip to the inside of my thighs as if it were part of the pose. In one of the selfies, while we were both smiling at the camera, his fingers moved over me beneath the fabric, parting my lips and slipping between them.

—So no one can say we don’t know how to have fun —he murmured against my ear.

Two fingers slipped inside me without warning, all the way to the hilt. I bit my lip to keep from moaning, and he kept taking pictures with his other hand as though nothing were happening. He moved them slowly, searching for the spot he knew by heart, while I tried to smile at the camera with my pussy trembling around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out glistening with my juices and brought them to his mouth without taking his eyes off me.

—Delicious —he said—. The old men in the dining room will be able to smell you from their table.

Then he pulled down my neckline and pinched my nipples until they hardened against the fabric. Another picture, this time with the marks of both points digging into the dress. He knelt me between his legs, opened his pants, and pulled out his already-hard cock, putting the head in my mouth.

—Just a little —he said—. I want to take you down to eat tasting like me.

I sucked him slowly, wrapping my tongue around his glans, taking him halfway into my mouth and pulling him out with a thread of saliva running down my chin. I stroked his balls as I moved up and down with my mouth, and he held my hair, guiding my rhythm.

—Stop —he said suddenly, pulling my hair back—. Stop, or I’ll cover your face and there’ll be no dinner.

When he finished, I could barely stay on my feet. Of course he noticed, and stopped just in time, leaving me on the edge of something with an unbearably satisfied smile.

—Behave yourself downstairs —he said, tucking his still-hard cock back into his pants—. Or at least try.

Going down to the dining room in that dress was delicious torture. Without a bra, without anything underneath, I felt every stare like a hand. My pussy was dripping, and I walked with my thighs pressed together, feeling the wetness slide down inside me. Luckily, there were no families with children: the hotel was full of older people, retirees on some organized tour. That reassured me and, at the same time, gave me a whole new kind of thrill.

Two gentlemen sat down at a nearby table. I learned later that they were both widowers, and they couldn’t take their eyes off me. I pretended not to notice, but every time I got up to fetch food, I felt their eyes following me across the dining room, fixed on my ass, climbing up my back to the nape of my neck.

—Your admirers aren’t missing a thing —Hugo said, delighted—. The one on the right is getting hard. Look at the way he’s crossing his legs.

***

That afternoon we went down to the beach. I put on a regular bikini and a transparent cover-up; we were leaving the nudist area for the next day. There weren’t many people, so we went into the water until it covered my breasts.

There, where no one could see, Hugo pulled the bottom of my bikini down just enough. Then he took it off completely and tucked it into the pocket of his swim trunks, laughing at my startled expression.

—Relax —he said—. No one’s coming that close. And if they do, even better.

He pressed my back against his chest, spread my legs underwater, and drove two fingers inside me in one motion. I had to cling to his forearms to keep my balance.

—Quiet —he whispered against my ear as he fucked me with his hand—. There are people on the shore.

His fingers went in and out of my pussy, while his thumb rubbed my clitoris in circles, pressing harder whenever a swimmer passed nearby. I felt his hard cock against my ass, pushing through the fabric of his trunks, and he rubbed it against me shamelessly as he slid a third finger inside.

—You’re starting to look like a slut —he said softly—. Pull your top down.

I pulled it down. My nipples were erect from the cold water and my arousal, and he pinched them one after the other, tugging hard until a moan escaped me, which I muffled against his shoulder. He pushed his fingers in to the knuckles, curling them forward, and made me come there, with half my body out of the water and a couple bathing ten yards away. I bit his arm to keep from screaming.

—Good girl —he said, pulling out his glistening fingers and cleaning them with his tongue—. Let’s go. The old men can’t take it anymore.

We played for a long while in the water, his body against mine, his hands where no one could see. When we came out, the two gentlemen from the dining room were already settled near our towel. They greeted us and immediately struck up a conversation.

They were pleasant, much more so than I’d expected. Widowers, retirees, in their third year of coming to the same city. They told us about the good restaurants, the markets in the nearby villages, the hidden coves. And as they talked, their eyes slowly traveled over my cleavage whenever they thought I wasn’t looking. I adjusted my wet cover-up, knowing that it showed everything, that my nipples were outlined, that the bikini clinging to my skin let them guess the exact shape of my pussy.

—There’s live music at the hotel tonight —said the more talkative one—. We usually stay. Things really liven up.

Not a very subtle hint. Hugo, beside me, smiled like a cat.

***

When I came out of the shower, there was a dress on the bed that I hadn’t brought with me. White, with little flowers, short and flared, tied at the neck and open at the back almost all the way down. The neckline was the key detail: perfect for someone with less cleavage. For me, a provocation.

—It’s a gift —Hugo said from the doorway—. Marcos picked it out.

Marcos was the friend who, for months, had had permission to touch me whenever Hugo invited him. I hadn’t seen him for two weeks, hadn’t felt his thick cock entering my mouth while Hugo fucked me from behind, hadn’t felt his hands on my tits while Hugo watched me come with another man. I could hardly believe he’d gone to the trouble of buying me something.

—Seriously, you let him buy me a dress? —I asked, torn between embarrassment and laughter.

—We saw it in a store. I told him I could imagine you in it, and he went back alone to pay. He said he wanted to see your tits peeking out of the neckline and your pussy dripping beneath the skirt.

I put it on. On the way to the restaurant I attracted more than one stare, and it didn’t surprise me: the dress showed more than it concealed, and what couldn’t be seen was easy to imagine. Hugo took pictures of me along the promenade, pictures he later sent to Marcos with a laugh.

—He says he was right —he commented, looking at his phone—. And that he wants one with the dress lifted.

—Give me that. Let him see what you send him.

In a secluded corner of the promenade, Hugo took me behind a palm tree, lifted my dress to my waist, and took a picture of my naked ass and shaved pussy. He sent it right then. The phone vibrated in his hand almost immediately: Marcos had replied with a picture of his hard cock in his hand.

—He says he’s going to beat off thinking about you all night —Hugo read to me—. That I should send him a video if I fuck you in front of someone.

The game was already underway, and we both knew it.

***

The hotel was packed. Live music beside the pool, several married couples dancing, the lights low. We found them quickly: the two gentlemen, each planting two kisses on my cheeks as if there were no tomorrow.

We looked for a secluded table in the dim light, from which we could see the dance floor. We ordered drinks. The waiter wasn’t exactly shy about my cleavage either, and Hugo was in his element.

—Lift your dress in the back —he told me quietly when the gentlemen went to the bar—. Keep your ass against the chair.

I did it. I felt the chair’s fabric directly against my skin and a heat that didn’t come only from the drink. When the two gentlemen returned and sat down with us, I was still like that, pretending to listen while trembling inside. I was getting so wet that I was leaving a mark on the upholstery.

The bolder one soon asked me to dance. Hugo gave me a nod, the one that meant go for it, and we went to the dance floor. A slow song was playing. I suggested that we stay a little apart, using the excuse that I was a bad dancer.

His hand started on my back and moved lower with the rhythm, slowly, gauging how far I would let him go. I didn’t push him away. I felt his fingers cross the boundary of the dress and settle on the bare skin of my ass, first over it, then slipping beneath the flare of the skirt until he squeezed an entire cheek. A low growl escaped him when he realized I was wearing nothing.

—What a woman you have —he told Hugo when we passed near the table, without stopping his kneading of my ass—. What a prize.

Hugo watched us from the table, in the front row, and seeing him watch turned me on more than the touch. I felt the man’s cock hard against my belly, could clearly feel the bulge showing through his pants as he pressed me against him. On one turn he pulled me against his body and rubbed it against me openly, without disguising it, and a sigh escaped me, which he took as permission: he slipped his hand beneath my dress, found my soaked pussy, and ran two fingers along my slit, from top to bottom, while we kept moving to the music.

—Wet —he whispered—. You’re wet, gorgeous.

I didn’t answer. I took his hand beneath my dress and pulled it away, but not before he brought his fingers to his nose and smelled me in front of everyone.

One song flowed into the next. On one turn, a breast slipped out of my neckline, and I only realized it when I felt his hand release me for a moment, as if giving me time to put it back. First, though, he pinched my nipple between two fingers and tugged it gently, the way you call a dog’s attention. When we returned to the table, my cheeks were burning and my legs were weak.

***

I needed to pee, and I knew I wasn’t going to the bathroom alone. I asked aloud where it was, and the gentleman I’d danced with offered to accompany me. Hugo, of course, didn’t move from his chair.

The bathroom was at the end of a hallway, down a steep flight of stairs. He went down first, very much the gentleman, and waited for me at the bottom with his hand at the small of my back. I had never gone so far with anyone who wasn’t Hugo or Marcos, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the edge of it.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was waiting for me in the hallway, hidden in the shadows. He took me by the waist, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me abruptly, thrusting his whole tongue into my mouth. He tasted of whisky and tobacco. His hand slid beneath my dress, found my bare buttock, and squeezed hard while he sucked on my mouth. With his other hand he opened his pants and pulled out his cock, thick and veined, the cock of a sixty-year-old man with months of pent-up desire.

—Touch it for me —he asked in a hoarse voice—. Just touch it, gorgeous. Let it know what you do to me.

I took hold of it. I gave it a couple of strokes with my hand, feeling its weight, and he moaned against my neck as he pushed two fingers into my pussy without mercy. I was so wet that they sank all the way in without resistance.

—You fucking slut —he said softly, mesmerized—. You’re like this because of me.

—Because of him —I corrected him, pulling his hand away and releasing his cock with a smile—. He’s watching me from upstairs.

He told me to go up ahead, in case I tripped. I climbed four or five steps and suddenly realized: with nothing beneath my dress, he must have been seeing all of me from below every time he spoke to me.

We came here to play. If they see me as an easy woman, that’s what I’ll be tonight.

Before reaching the top, I bent down under the pretense of adjusting my sandal. I spread my legs a little wider and stayed like that for a few seconds, offering him my shaved pussy, glistening with wetness, and my open ass. I heard him hold his breath, then mutter a quiet curse. I would have loved to see his face, because mine wore an expression of pure satisfaction. He came up behind me with his hand close to my body and didn’t move it away until we reached the table, touching my waist, my hip, the base of my ass.

—And your friends? —Hugo asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

—Waiting for their drinks —I told him in his ear—. And one of them saw me completely on the stairs. Then he kissed me in the hallway and pushed two fingers all the way inside me. I held his cock for a second. Big, hard as a rock.

The look on his face almost made me laugh. Under the table, he squeezed his package with one hand. He was on the edge of something just from hearing about it.

***

We didn’t hold out much longer. As soon as they closed the bar, we said goodbye and went upstairs to the room. I took off my dress and went into the bathroom to wash myself; Hugo came in behind me and slipped his hand between my legs with a tenderness that didn’t fit his words.

—You’re drenched —he said against my neck—. I can tell you enjoyed getting the old men worked up.

—That’s why we came, isn’t it? —I replied—. If they look at me like that, there must be a reason.

He drove me into the bedroom, tearing off his clothes along the way. He laid me on the bed on my back and spread my legs wide apart. He stared at my swollen, glistening pussy for a few seconds.

—Eat me —I begged, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head down—. I can’t take it anymore.

I shoved my pussy into his face. He licked me from bottom to top with his flat tongue, tasting all of me, then began sucking my clitoris with his lips while he pushed two fingers inside and curled them. He ate me patiently, without rushing, playing his tongue over my bud, sucking it, nibbling it. I tugged his hair and pressed his face against my pussy, rubbing myself against his mouth. When he felt me coming, he pushed in a third finger and licked me faster, until I came on his tongue with a scream that echoed through the entire room.

—Good girl —he said, rising with his chin and lips glistening—. Now open wide.

He put my legs over his shoulders and entered me with one hard thrust. A long gasp escaped me as I felt him slide all the way in. He fucked me like that, folded up, my knees nearly touching my ears, giving me hard thrusts that made the bed bang against the wall.

—Do you want them to come up? —he asked while he fucked me—. Say yes, say you want them to watch me fuck you. Say you want the old man from the hallway to pull out his cock again and beat off watching you.

—What you want —I panted, clutching the sheets— is to imagine them watching. Tell me about it. Tell me what I did to the man from the hallway.

—You held his cock —he whispered, thrusting harder—. You held his cock while he pushed two fingers inside you. You were going to suck him, weren’t you? You were going to kneel down and suck him right there.

—Yes —I lied, because at that moment I would have said anything—. I was going to suck him. I was going to suck him with you watching from upstairs.

I turned him over and sat on top, taking back control. I sank his cock all the way inside and began to move, rising and falling, squeezing him with my pussy as he grabbed my tits and tugged my nipples. My husband kept talking, spouting his filthy fantasies, and I let him, because I knew that half his pleasure lay in that: telling me a story while we lived it.

—I’ll let Marcos do whatever he wants to me when we get back —I told him in his ear, riding him slowly—. Let him fuck me in the ass while you fuck me in front. Let him come in my mouth while you fill my pussy. But tonight you’re the only one. And they’re watching from far away what they’ll never touch.

Hugo moaned loudly when he heard it. He grabbed my hips and began thrusting up into me, fast and merciless, until I felt him swell inside me. I came on top of him, squeezing him with my pussy, and felt him empty himself, jet by jet, filling me completely. Both of us breathless, laughing a second later like two accomplices who had just gotten away with something.

I stayed seated on him for a while longer, feeling his cock soften inside me and his semen begin to slide down my thighs. He sent Marcos a picture: my pussy dripping with his cum, my face out of frame. The reply came in less than a minute. Another picture of Marcos’s cock, this time with his fist closed around it and a white puddle on top.

—You got your souvenir —Hugo said, smiling with his eyes closed—. He came thinking about you.

***

The next morning we had breakfast with them. Two kisses, the same looks, the same friendliness. Hugo was certain I was going to say something to them, some invitation, but it wasn’t necessary. Simply coming down to see them confirmed what they were thinking.

—We’re leaving today —said the more talkative one—. It’s a shame we won’t have more time together.

And there, for the first time during the whole trip, I felt relieved.

Hugo wanted us to go to the nudist beach together. I told him that with them, no way. One thing was the game of the stares, the stairs, the rubbing on the dance floor after a couple of drinks, the old man’s cock in my hand for a second in the hallway. Quite another was confirming, in the cold light of day, that I wanted something more.

—In the end, you’re the coward —he teased.

—And you’re the one who watches —I replied—. To each his own.

When we reached the nudist cove, there was hardly anyone there. Older couples, an occasional young woman, no sign of our friends. I took off my clothes slowly, still feeling the tingling of the previous night in my body, and lay down in the sun, thinking that those had been, by far, the strangest and most uniquely ours vacation of our entire lives.

Hugo ran his hand over my naked back, satisfied, and lowered it to my ass, squeezing one cheek with his open palm.

—Was it worth it? —he asked.

I didn’t answer. I simply smiled with my eyes closed, letting him imagine the answer. After all, that was what he knew how to do best.