My Wife Took Off Her Bikini and the Whole Beach Looked at Her

Finally.

After several summers tied up with family vacations, this year Lucía and I managed to slip away alone for five days by the sea. No kids, no in-laws, no schedules. And I promise you those five days are not something we’ll ever forget.

We arrived at the hotel after midday, with that strange travel fatigue that mixes with the urge to start living. They gave us a room on the top floor, with a narrow terrace from which you could see the water as far as the eye could reach.

We dropped the suitcases and didn’t even unpack them. We had no patience to hang anything up. Lucía went into the bathroom to change while I hurriedly put on my swim trunks like a little kid.

—How do I look? —she asked when she came out.

She was wearing her usual black bikini, her favorite. It’s not provocative at all, but she feels comfortable and secure in it. It supports her breasts well and rounds out her hips, those hips that widened after she became a mother and that, far from bothering me, drive me crazy.

—You look incredible —I told her, and it wasn’t a polite compliment. I was already getting hard just looking at her.

She slipped on one of those thin-strapped dresses that serve more as an excuse not to walk around the halls in a bikini, and we headed down to the beach with two towels under our arms.

It was one of those semi-private hotel beaches, with its own loungers and a beach bar set up right on the sand. With the all-inclusive wristband, we settled near the bar and started the afternoon as vacations are meant to start.

A beer. Another beer. A mojito. And, between drinks, our usual game.

—Look at the killer body on the girl in the red bikini —Lucía said, pointing with her chin—. She looks like a model.

—I like that one better over there, the one with the little one on the shore —I answered—. And the husband isn’t bad at all either, look at the bulge in his trunks.

—Oh, wow! —she laughed—. Look at you, keeping that quiet. Would you suck him off?

—Shut up, slut —I replied, laughing, even though the question got me hot.

It’s a game we’ve played since we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Neither of us is jealous enough to be bothered by talking like that. Saying out loud that someone is smoking hot doesn’t threaten us; on the contrary, it turns us on to discover who the other is looking at. It’s like opening a small door and peeking inside without going in.

We’d been roasting in the sun for quite a while when Lucía surprised me with a question I hadn’t expected.

—Would you mind if I went topless?

It caught me off guard. Not because it was anything new —when she was my girlfriend she always did it—, but because since our daughter was born she hadn’t done it again. I’d suggested it to her a hundred times and she always found an excuse. Insecurity, she said. The body isn’t what it was at twenty.

—Of course I wouldn’t mind —I told her—. We’ve got enough ties holding us down all year. We come here to let go.

She smiled at me. In less than a second she had untied the top of her bikini and let it fall onto the towel.

I’ve been with this woman for twelve years and I still have a hard time taking my eyes off her tits. When I met her, they were small and perky; pregnancy and breastfeeding changed them, made them bigger and softer, with those broad dark areolas that came with the milk and never entirely went away. I can swear, without fear of being wrong, that I like them much more now. They opened to the sun like two ripe fruits, with her nipples already starting to stand out.

—Well damn, mama! —I said, the first thing that came to mind.

—Dummy —she answered, laughing, and ran her hands through her hair.

That gesture, so simple, lifting her arms without the slightest hurry, fully aware she was being watched, her breasts rising in the air, gave me goose bumps and made my cock start swelling inside my trunks.

Until that moment I hadn’t noticed a detail: on that small beach, with so few people, no other woman was topless. I don’t know whether she’d noticed it, or whether that was precisely what encouraged her. The point is, she felt unique. And it showed.

Not even five minutes had passed when she got up decisively, adjusted the bikini bottoms by tugging the fabric up into her ass crack to show more thigh and more cheek, and walked toward the water without saying a word to me.

I stayed on the towel, mojito half-finished, watching her walk away with her ass out and my cock already half hard under the towel.

***

It didn’t take long for a group of three guys to show up. I don’t know where they came from; one moment the beach was quiet and the next they were there, tossing a ball a few meters from Lucía, in the water.

They were young men, in their thirties, with that energy of people on vacation who have nothing to lose. Now and then the ball would “accidentally” get away from them near her. Now and then they’d splash her “by mistake.” The oldest trick in the book, and it still works every time.

I saw how Lucía, at first, tried not to show too much of her body out of the water. She crossed her arms over her tits, sank down to her shoulders. The shyness of the first few minutes.

But little by little the three of them circled around her, with that friendly choreography of people who know how to get close without scaring you. One of them threw the ball to her high, almost like a challenge. And my wife, instead of moving away, jumped for it.

You can imagine the scene: her coming out of the water in a leap, her wet tits bouncing in the sun, her nipples hard, shining. The look on the three of them was priceless. One of them turned sideways to hide the erection showing in his trunks. And Lucía’s face was priceless too, because at that instant she felt embarrassed, plunged back under to her neck all at once, and looked for me with her eyes.

And here, if I’m honest, something happened that I still find hard to explain.

She fixed her eyes on me from the water. I saw her smile. I think she even bit her lip. It wasn’t a look that said, “Get me out of here.” It was a question. Does this bother you? Or do you like it?

My only answer was to give her a thumbs-up from the towel, while my other hand discreetly adjusted my cock inside my trunks.

It was like giving permission to something neither of us had ever put into words.

I watched her slowly stand up. The water barely reached her thighs. She adjusted her bikini bottoms into a thong, pushing the fabric between her cheeks without even trying to hide it, leaving her entire ass on display, fully aware that I was watching her and so were they, and she went back into the water to play with her tits out.

—Very good, honey! —I shouted from the sand.

I don’t know why I said it. It came from inside me, instinctively. I was enjoying it more than I ever would have imagined. My cock was so hard it hurt.

***

The next fifteen minutes were the longest and the shortest of my life, both at the same time.

The game escalated on its own, without anyone suggesting it. They started throwing the ball against her body, lunging at her to grab it, dunking her under. They lifted her by the waist and let her drop with laughter. And in the middle of it all, there were touches. An forearm against her tits. A hand on her hip that took half a second too long to let go. A thigh rubbing against her ass under the water.

I saw with my own eyes how one of them, the darkest one, grabbed her by the waist to dunk her and left his hand shamelessly clamped over one tit for a couple of seconds, groping it, squeezing it. Lucía let him. She didn’t pull away, didn’t turn around. Another, taking advantage of the scuffle over the ball, pressed up against her from behind and rubbed his hard cock against her ass. I saw it perfectly from the towel: the bulge in his trunks, pushing between my wife’s cheeks, one second, two, three. She took her time moving away. When she did, she looked for me again and ran her tongue over her upper lip.

Everything “accidental.” Everything within the limits of a beach game. But I saw it. And above all, I saw that she kept looking at me every so often, checking my reaction, measuring how far she could go.

And I have to admit it without shame: the situation was turning me on. Seeing my wife let three strangers fondle her tits and rub her ass in the water made me insanely horny. My cock was pressing against my trunks in a way I couldn’t hide, and I didn’t care. But what really had my blood boiling was seeing her enjoy it, seeing her loosen up, seeing her suddenly recover that little slut of twenty-two who got naked without thinking.

If I was hard on the towel, she would be twice as hot in the water. I knew it from the way she moved, from how she spread her legs a little more each time one of them came near, from how she pushed her ass back instead of moving it away.

I was tempted to go in. To cross the sand, step into the water, and claim what was mine in front of them. But I didn’t. I understood, without anyone explaining it to me, that my place that afternoon was there: the towel, the distance, the gaze. That my pleasure was precisely in not touching. And that later, when I had her naked in the room, all of it would come back to me.

The scene ended when she decided enough was enough. She came out of the water running toward me, her tits bouncing and her nipples hard from the cold and everything else, and threw herself onto my body without measuring the impact.

We kissed. A long, hungry kiss, with tongue and a taste of salt. I slid my hand underneath, searching for her pussy over the wet fabric, and immediately felt that the bikini bottoms weren’t just soaked with seawater: they were hot, swollen, wet inside. Dripping. I rubbed over it with two fingers and she let out a low moan against my mouth. We didn’t say anything. There was no need. We both knew exactly what had just happened between us, in silence, in full view of everyone.

—That’s enough for today —she whispered in my ear, her voice hoarse—. Let’s go to the room. Fuck me now, please.

***

We went up in the elevator plastered together like two teenagers. She still didn’t have the top of her bikini on, only half-covered by the towel, and I couldn’t keep my hands off her waist or my mouth off her neck. I slipped my hand inside her bikini bottoms as soon as the doors closed and drove my middle finger in up to the knuckle. She was burning, drenched, open.

—You’re dripping, slut —I whispered in her ear.

—All yours —she answered, and bit my lower lip.

As soon as the room door closed, the towel fell to the floor.

—Did you like it? —she asked, pushing me against the wall—. Tell me. Did you like seeing me like that?

—It drove me crazy —I admitted—. I didn’t know I needed to see it until I saw it.

—Did you see the dark one touching me? —she went on, while she yanked down my trunks and pulled my cock out, hard as a rock—. Did you see him squeeze my tit? And the other one, how he shoved his cock against my ass under the water?

—I saw everything —I panted.

—They were rock hard because of me —she murmured, taking me in her hand and stroking me slowly, looking at the fist full of my cock—. All three. Like you now.

She knelt down without taking her eyes off me. She grabbed me at the base, brought me to her lips, and ran her tongue all the way from my balls to the tip, licking me as if I were an ice cream. Then she took me all the way into her mouth, so deep she gagged, and started sucking me with a hunger I hadn’t seen from her in months. She dug her nails into my ass to bury me deeper against her face. Saliva dripped down her chin, stuck to my balls, and she didn’t stop, sucking, swallowing, pulling me out to lick my balls one by one and then taking me back in to the back of her throat.

—I was imagining the three of them —she muttered with my cock in her mouth, letting me fall onto her tongue for a second so she could speak—. One here, sucking me off like I suck you off. Another fucking me from behind. And you watching. Like on the beach.

—Whore —I told her, grabbing her hair—. My whore.

—Your whore —she answered, and took me back into her mouth.

I hauled her up by the hair before I came in her mouth. I threw her onto the bed on her back, ripped off her bikini bottoms in one tug, and spread her legs wide open. Her pussy was shining, swollen, with the lips parted and a thread of fluid running down to her asshole. I went down on her. I buried my tongue all the way inside, worked it up to her clit, and licked it like my life depended on it. She tasted of salt, of sea, of hot cunt. She pressed my head against her pussy with both hands, lifting my hips against her face, while she writhed on the mattress.

—Yes, like that, eat it all —she panted—. Eat your wife’s cunt, the one three guys have been staring at all afternoon. Eat it.

I slipped two fingers inside her while I kept licking her clit and she came in less than a minute, arching her back off the mattress, pressing my thighs against her ears, moaning so loudly I’m sure it was heard in the hallway. She left me dripping in my hand, trembling all over.

I gave her no reprieve. I climbed on top, grabbed her legs behind the knees and spread them wide, her tits bouncing on her chest, and thrust my cock into her in a single stroke all the way to the hilt. We both groaned at once. She was so wet I sank into her on my own.

—Fuck me —she panted—. Fuck me like you’re one of them.

I started fucking her hard, without care, hitting her with sharp thrusts of my hips that made her tits bounce and tore a groan out of her every time. The bed creaked. The headboard knocked against the wall. She dug her heels into my ass, pushing me deeper.

—Tell me —I asked her, never stopping—. Tell me what you wanted them to do to you.

—I wanted them to pull it out for me —she blurted between thrusts, eyes half-closed—. Under the water. To pull down my bottoms and shove it in right there, in front of you. One in front and one behind. And you watching everything from the towel, horny as hell, unable to do a thing.

—Slut —I told her, slamming into her harder—. My slut.

I pulled out, put her on all fours, and drove my cock into her from behind again. I grabbed one cheek in each hand, spreading them apart, watching her asshole pucker every time I pushed in. I slapped her ass, leaving a red mark. And again. And again. She pushed back against me, rubbing her ass in my face.

—Give me more —she moaned into the pillow—. Harder. More.

I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back while I shoved it in to the balls. I could see her back arched, her tits hanging from side to side, sweat running down her spine. When I felt another orgasm building in her I let go of her hair, grabbed her hips and sped up. She came, squeezing my cock inside with those pulsing cunt spasms that suck you inward, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.

—I’m coming —I growled.

—Inside —she panted—. Come inside. Fill me, baby. Fill me good.

I unloaded inside her with three, four, five long thrusts, spilling into her cunt while holding her by the hips. I felt every lash of my cum coming out of me, driven by months of routine and an entire afternoon of pent-up dirty talk on the towel. She collapsed face down onto the mattress with my cock still inside her and I fell on top of her, not pulling out, feeling myself go soft inside her, feeling the cum sliding back out, tracing the edge of her pussy and down to her asshole.

We stayed like that for a long while, breathing. I kissed the nape of her neck, her shoulders, her ear. When I finally pulled out, a thick rope of semen mixed with her fluid slipped down her thigh. She took two fingers, scooped it up, and sucked them while looking at me.

We ended up wrapped in each other’s arms, sweaty, laughing like fools at what had just happened.

—We’ve got four days left —she said, her head resting on my chest and a new glint in her eyes.

—Four days —I repeated.

And we both knew, without needing to say it, that none of those days would be anything like the life we’d had up to then.