Anything for Him: the Honeymoon

The story of how Jane Martin became obsessed with her young co-worker and with his cock is told in Anything for Him: at Work, and you can read it there. At the end of that story, he tells her that he will be going on a honeymoon in the Caribbean, and that he expects her to follow him there so that she can continue to serve his special needs. She agrees joyfully to follow him. This is the story of the trip.

Day 1

His instructions had been clear and exciting. He and his brand new wife would be staying in a beachfront suite at an adult resort on a small island in the Caribbean. Jane was to book a poolside room at the same resort in one of a suite of rooms that had particularly secluded entrances, around the corner from most of the pool traffic. She was to fly down early in the day, check in as soon as possible, and be out on the beach waiting for him by the time he and his wife made their first appearance in the late afternoon.

As for her wardrobe, he had given her guidelines, but left her to pick the clothes for herself. Three or four bikinis: not thongs—he didn't like the dental floss look—but cut on the back so that a good part of her ass cheeks would be showing; minimal string or tie sides; and very, very low in the front, so that she'd need to shave or wax her pussy.

A couple of beach cover-ups that shouldn't really cover anything—maybe mesh or something gauzy. Then, for evenings, several different outfits for dancing or bar-hopping—short, clingy dresses; tiny skirts and low-cut tops, some sexy sandals. And nothing else. No shorts, no pants, no bras, no panties.

She had loved shopping for the trip, loved it so much in fact that she kept having to sneak off and rub herself to a dizzying climax in the midst of browsing and trying things on. She found a few things in stores and specialty shops, a few things online, and to her surprise a few things in the teen department of a regular mall department store. It was incredible what young girls were wearing these days. Of course they were probably wearing those things in the right size and with underwear.

The visit to the waxing salon had offered its own special thrill. She decided on waxing instead of shaving partly because she thought it would last for the whole trip and partly because it seemed more exciting to have her pussy worked on in public and by somebody else, than to do it herself at home. She wanted to find a place where it would be done by a man, because that seemed even more exposed and because she thought that He would enjoy hearing about it.

But all the male-staffed places seemed to be gay-oriented, so she contented herself with an attractive young girl—she couldn't have been more than 20—who gave her an almost flirtatious smile when Jane told her that she was getting bikini waxed for the first time so that she could wear a super-small suit for a super-special and very young man. When the waxing was done, the young woman gently grazed the just waxed area to make sure that it was smooth and then smiled again at Jane and said, "I think your special young man will love it. Anybody would." She let her fingers linger lightly, a second or two longer than necessary, on Jane's just waxed and sensitive skin, a few millimeters above her clit. And there was no question at all that this time the smile was flirtatious.

Nothing happened; Jane knew without being told that she shouldn't have sex with anybody else unless he told her to. But even though nothing more happened, even though Jane had never been with a woman or even thought much about it, she almost came from the excitement of the encounter. Somehow everything having to do with him, and now everything having to do with this trip, was so incredibly charged with sexual feeling that it turned her on intensely.

She had been giddy and distracted the whole month before the trip. Now that she found herself actually there, in the lobby, then briefly on the beach just to check it out, and then finally in the room where she knew that she'd be serving him again and again; now that she was actually, really here, she was almost frantic with pleasurable anticipation.

The truth is that she had been in almost the same state for the whole last six months, the whole time since she'd met him and then, just a week after that first meeting, starting kneeling before him two, three, and four times a day to suck his wonderful cock, or bending down on all fours to take it deep into her pussy or her asshole. Every single encounter with his cock brought her to new levels, or at least that's how it felt to her. And now, here she was, thousands of miles from home under a hot tropical sun, and getting ready to expose herself in ways that she'd never exposed herself before.

It's not as if Jane had never worn a bikini before, or even dressed a little bit sexily. And since she met him, she had been dressing more daringly then ever, and at his command she had more than once taken the thrilling risk of being naked outside. But the sexy dressing at work was still just sexy dressing at work, well within the ordinary limits of what a lot of women were wearing these days. And the public nakedness had been fast and anonymous, more like flashing than like really, truly exposing herself to the gaze of strangers. This was going to be different.

That's what Jane was feeling, powerfully, as she stood in front of the full length mirror in her room looking at herself in the first of her new bikinis, a pure white suite made of a clingy thin material that hugged the outline of her tits—she was no Dolly Parton, but they were full and soft and real—and did nothing to hide the hard little bullets of her nipples. You could see a little of the curve of each tit spilling from the outsides of the top, which gathered together to create a deep full cleavage in the middle.

Jane had never worn such a revealing top before, but it was still no more outrageous than many others. It was the bikini bottom that was really daring, just a tiny triangle in the front, covering the absolute legal minimum and then a slightly larger triangle in the back, from which about half of her shapely ass cheeks protruded invitingly. If she stretched or moved or tugged at all on the bikini bottoms, her moist and swollen pussy lips would come into view. And even if they didn't, the outline of the pussy lips clearly showed through. Also, Jane knew, it would take no time at all for the bikini bottoms to be soaked through with her pussy juice, which would then begin to glisten obscenely on her exposed inner thighs.

It was a little bit scary, but it was also incredibly exciting, and as she looked in the mirror Jane loved what she saw. Her 34 year-old body looked very good, she thought proudly. She had always been lucky with her figure, and she had stayed in pretty good shape, too. Her belly wasn't super-flat like some hard-body young underwear model. But its very slight soft roundedness only made it look more inviting, she thought, and the tiny bikini was actually kind of flattering as it invited the eye to follow the gentle curve downward from her belly to the barely covered pussy below.

It was a suit that begged people to look, to notice her full tits and hard nipples and to stare hard at that pussy. Wearing it, Jane looked like exactly what she was, a sexually alive woman who was fucked deeply and often and who loved it. She shuddered with pleasure, threw a towel over her shoulder, and walked out of her room, down the walk, and out to the beach.

It was just a one-minute walk to the resort beach. As Jane rounded the corner of her building to glimpse the water, she was first thrilled by how beautiful it was—a half moon-shaped little bay, filled with blue-green water and lined by a secluded ribbon of beach, filled with little dips and twists and turns and rows of tropical vegetation that made for smaller and more private little sub-beaches. She was a little dismayed, too, though, to see that the moderately full beach was almost all couples, ranging in age from their 20s to their 60s, but not looking at first glance like an especially daring crowd.

When she had heard "adult" resort, she thought at first that it might be a place for especially sexy vacations and even for swapping or group sex like she'd read about in her pornographic stories. But all that "adult" seemed to mean here was that there were no children or families—just lots of quiet couples and a few, a very few, other singles here and there. Most of the women were in bikinis, but nobody was topless, as she had half expected, and she couldn't help noticing that though many of the bikinis were pretty small, none of them was nearly as daring or extreme as her own.

She also couldn't help noticing the looks of interest that she was getting as she sauntered slowly down the beach, looking for a good spot to spread out her towel. Men's heads were turning as she walked, trying not to look too obvious or to let their wives see how they were looking. And women's heads were turning, too, less embarrassedly, more appraisingly, as if they were just curious and interested to see what another woman might be getting up to and getting away with on vacation.

Once Jane had taken in the whole scene, she was thrilled all over again, as she realized what a just right choice of resorts he had made. Too bad about the lack of topless sunbathing—she realized now that she had been excitedly ready for that—but it felt just right to be at a place where she would be obliged to stand out and to feel exposed in a way that she wouldn't have if everybody in the place had been going a little wild.

She walked a little ways down the beach, looking for a quiet spot to put her towel down. She didn't dare go too far—she wanted to be sure he would see her when he arrived. And, besides, she kind of liked the way that everybody was looking at her, so she wasn't looking for real seclusion. Not yet.

When she found the right spot, she put her towel down and sat on it, then gradually lay back until she was fully reclining, her body nervously and yet proudly on display. She lay there for 45 minutes, her head propped up slightly on an extra thickness of towel so that she could look around through her dark sunglasses and be on the alert for his arrival. She'd been in and out of one sexy daydream after another, reveling in the stares of passersby, squirming a little in the heat of the tropical sun and the heat that was building up inside her, almost unable to believe how excited she was by just lying there. It was almost as if he had a plan to drive her wild, and it was working already.

Just when she was getting ready to turn over, in hopes that she could somehow sneak a finger under her suit and just touch her aching little clit, she caught sight of him in the distance. He was emerging from a beachfront suite about a hundred feet away, but she knew it was him by the set of his body. As she watched, he held the door open for what seemed to be quite a young girl in a light blue bikini. But of course his wife would be a quite young girl—Jane knew that, she had to have known that, but it was still a shock to see the beautiful cheerleader type who was now approaching her, laughing and talking casually with him, as if she was perfectly at ease, as if she was his equal.

Maybe she was 23 or 24, but she looked like a college student, like the President of her sorority, maybe, but friendlier than that, smiling and chatting, the picture of youthful blond beauty. She wasn't voluptuous—her tits were a size or so smaller than Jane's. But they looked to be perfectly formed, and she was trim, sexy, and beautiful. She was also, as Jane couldn't help noticing, much more modestly dressed than Jane, and her bikini, while small enough to be sexy, wasn't particularly flimsy or outrageous. Which didn't keep her from being a knockout.

He looked beautiful too, of course and Jane's eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them, drinking in the sight of his lightly muscled chest, of his firm belly, and of the loose boxer trunks behind which Jane kept trying to glimpse the outline of the cock that she adored, that she hoped desperately to have inside her in not too long.

As excited as she was by the sight of his body, Jane kept looking back at his wife, at her face, at the swelling of cleavage that even her more modest suit revealed, and then again and again at her lower belly and at the small space of fabric that covered her pussy. What Jane realized, with another shock, was that she knew that pussy, even though she'd never seen it before. She knew it intimately because she knew what it tasted like, because she had been licking his wife's pussy juice off his cock almost every day for several months now. She knew the taste of that pussy very, very well. And what's more, she loved it.

She tried not to stare too obviously as they approached her and just hoped that her sunglasses kept it from being completely obvious how closely her eyes were focused first on his crotch, then on his wife's, then back and forth helplessly between them.

As they were almost upon her, she could suddenly hear his voice, and it sounded incredibly strange in her ears for a reason that she couldn't at first understand. And then she realized what it was. He was talking to his wife as if she were his equal, not just letting his wishes be known in a voice of quiet command, but laughing and talking casually, holding her hand and dropping it, touching her lightly on the arm. And his wife was answering him in the same easy way, looking him directly in the eye, apparently relaxed and ordinary in his company. Jane shouldn't have been surprised—but she still was—to see that this young, beautiful wife wasn't in awe of her husband, wasn't trembling at every moment with desire and eagerness to please, but was just walking down the beach, having a good time. What power she must have to hold her own in that way!

As they passed her, Jane instinctively lay back and stretched herself out to be on full display for him. In fact, though, he barely glanced in her direction. It was his young wife who turned and stared at her for a full three or four seconds, clearly a little bit shocked and intrigued by Jane's super-tiny bikini and the ripe, nearly-nude body that it barely covered. Jane flushed with self-consciousness and quickly lowered her own eyes behind her sunglasses, letting herself be looked at. It wasn't personal, exactly—at least not for the young wife who as far as she knew had no acquaintance at all with this scantily clad older woman. But she was clearly fascinated to see how daring at least one of the sunbathers on this beach was. And Jane was thrilled to have attracted her attention.

They passed on a few feet beyond Jane and then set out their towels just close enough for her to hear their voices but not to be able to hear what they were saying. Pretending to be asleep, turning her head in their direction, Jane stared at them hungrily from the protection of her sunglasses and the brim of her sun hat. When he began to rub suntan oil into her back and legs a few minutes later Jane felt herself beginning to breathe heavily. And when she put suntan oil on him after that, and spent a long time at it, even smoothing it lovingly over his legs, front and back, and then over his chest and his lower belly—when her hands lingered there for a minute, and then she giggled and whispered something into his ear and giggled again—when she did all that Jane was suddenly so close to coming that she had to turn over to control the shuddering in her pussy.

Day 2

She had been naked and kneeling for fifteen minutes when she heard the door of her hotel room open at 7:30 am. It was always exciting to wait for his cock, to see if he was going to put her on all fours, or slide it right into her mouth; to see if it would taste of his wife's pussy, to find out how many times he would use her and give her his cum. But here and now, she was even more desperate for it than usual and trembling with excitement.

Watching him on the beach yesterday had been so exciting it almost drove her wild. His body was right there, just a few feet away from her as he and his wife teased and flirted with each other, sharing their private jokes, acting like the horny, loving honeymoon couple that they obviously were. Jane didn't know what she'd been expecting, but whatever it was the reality was overwhelming, and she had actually cum once on the beach just from watching them, as she pressed her soaking pussy hard into the hot sand beneath her and stared at them through her dark sunglasses.

Then at dinner, she'd watched them again in the resort dining room, toasting each other, eating off each other's plates and laughing and talking, kissing every few minutes, while his wife's hand kept reaching under the table and sliding up and down in his lap. This was the strangest feeling she'd had yet with him—so intense and yet so, so frustrating. She didn't think she would have been able to bear it if she hadn't felt included somehow by the occasional quick glances that he shot in her direction to let her know that he understood very well the effect that they were probably having on her.

Even more exciting was the fact that his wife kept staring at her too. She had followed his instructions and was carefully sitting where they would see her and where his wife, especially, would have a good clear view of how sexily she was dressed-in a clingy little mini-sundress that was very tight and low over the bust. As excited as she was, she knew that her nipples were clearly visible to anybody who was looking. And she was pretty sure that when she stood up there would be a glistening wet spot on the leather banquette that she was sitting on.

She also knew that it was important to him for his wife to notice as much of all that as possible. So it thrilled and her and made her feel like part of their dinner somehow, to see looks that her wife was giving and to know that she was helping to create the sense for his wife that this was a sexy, naughty, exciting place. As frustrated and envious as it made her to see the two of them together, she was thrilled and so turned on to provide a little spice and inspiration for them—for Him, because he knew so well that she was in thrall to his cock and that every part of her was eagerly available to him. But also because she was helping to get his wife in the mood for who knows what, exactly? Jane wasn't sure, but when the two of them got up to leave together; and then when He pulled Her close to him for a kiss and she melted into his arms as he slid his hand down to her ass to squeeze it; and then when She gave a last quick interested look at Jane as they brushed past her on their way back to the room for what would surely be a long, hot, deep fuck. Well when all that happened, Jane knew for sure that she was leaving a terrible mess on the seat behind her. But she didn't care at all. And when she rushed back to her room to take out a dildo and fuck herself silly with it, she was thrilled to see that there was a telephone message, just saying curtly, "7:30."

So there she was as the door opened, naked, kneeling, eyes down, her mouth watering in anticipation, her pussy on fire, her tight little asshole tingling and ready. Without saying a word he stepped to her and she could see and smell that he was covered with sweat—he must have been out for a run—and wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. He stopped in front of her and she knew from long training to pull down his trunks and take his salty, sweaty, half-hard cock into her loving, eager mouth. She almost came at the first taste of it, realizing immediately that he must have fucked his wife just before leaving for the run, because there was that special taste of pussy mixing with his sweat.

She licked and sucked him hungrily, covering every inch of his beautiful cock with her tongue and taking it so deeply into her mouth that her lips encircled the base of it. She was just getting into a rhythm, moving her head up and down the full length of his shaft when he took hold of a fistful of her hair and pulled gently but firmly up, lifting her head off of his cock.