"Ready?"
If ever a woman looked ready, Natalie did. Pierre's cock was twitching under his shorts. Her white satin crop top, open in the middle, was fastened together with three gold chains across her cleavage, the white satin curving over two lovely rounds of breast. Below that, her creamy skin shone down to her navel with its little stud sparkling in the centre. Around her hips, slung low, her silk skirt was slitted almost to her hip, so that when she walked her shapely leg parted it with every step, showing a long sliver of tantalizing tanned flesh. Anyone watching would wonder if she was wearing any panties, since the slit was high enough to invite the hungry eye under the silk, to try to reach around like stealthy fingers and feel across her silky ass to see if she was wearing anything at all. Which she was, sort of: a tiny g-string that barely covered her small tuft of hair on her mound and teased her asscheeks apart. Leaning forward, Pierre inhaled her animal scent, a feline, floral, jungle scent, a scent that almost purred in the dark as she moved. Inhaling and closing your eyes you would wonder about her silky, undulating skin, about where that lovely scent came from, imagining the parting of her thighs to open up lovely pink and swelling pussy lips, glistening along her slit, her tender clit peeking out in invitation.
Even at the age of 45, her body was fabulous, and many women 20 years younger would have sold themselves to have it. She stood 5'6, an hourglass figure, c-cup breasts and legs that curved and muscled their way all the way up to her tight ass. For the past 5 years, since their marriage - second time around for both of them - Pierre had enjoyed the way men looked at her, and he had also enjoyed the increasing dark delight she felt at revealing herself. Both their previous marriages had been to controlling, insecure people who were quick to criticize. Therefore the pleasure each of them now took in the other was liberating, both emotionally and sexually. They would talk about fantasies, sometimes over a glass of wine, sometimes when they were on the phone talking about something else, sometimes after a particularly gratifying fuck. Their sex life had evolved gorgeously, and intensely. Natalie found her orgasms getting more and more powerful, body-wracking, loud. Pierre found their sex freer and freer, his cock getting hard at the oddest times of the day.
When they went out, Pierre had taken to pointing out to her the various men who were looking at her. At first she used to blush with the news; then she started to shiver with excitement. He would tell her which guy was looking at her ass, which guy was checking out her full and creamy breasts, which guy was trying to look up her skirt along the length of her delicious and inviting legs. Sometimes, feeling naughty, he would encourage her to flaunt herself a little, and she would comply happily, her face flushing. She would turn and cross her legs, showing off their firmness and their muscles. Or she would lean forward, exaggerating her cleavage, pushing out the full fleshy ripeness of her body. In particular Pierre liked to see the stares of younger men. They were more erotic, more blatant, and made his wife that much more desirable, in a raw, lusty way. To think of young men fantasizing about fucking her made his cock throb. The attention of young men also got to Natalie. She felt the blood rush to her skin, her nipples harden, and her pussy tingle. Such a rush, to feel so desirable, so fuckable. And now, in this wonderful marriage to Pierre, it was a rush to set those feelings free, to be able to indulge responses and fantasies that she had never been allowed to indulge before. More than anything though it was her nipples: he could tell she was really enjoying it when her nipples tightened and peaked, made themselves visible under all but the thickest sweater.
Today, Pierre had won the Cup. Not that the cup itself was any great prize - it was simply an old, small, battered tin cup that Natalie had won at about the age of 13. She had won dozens of them during her adolescence - local tennis tournaments, city championships, summer leagues. Pierre himself had never been much of a tennis player. Hockey and baseball had been his sports, but he loved to play just about anything. So now, after 5 years, of playing with her, he managed to keep up. They both had the competitive streak, so it was a natural that on the day when Natalie issued the challenge, just before they left for Puerto Vallarta, Pierre couldn't say no.
'The Cup,' she said, holding the poor battered thing by a finger. "But here's the catch." She grinned at him mischievously.
"Yes?" He always enjoyed her leer.
"The cup is just symbolic. What the winner really gets -" she paused "is a favour."
He raised his eyebrows. "Favour? As in sexual favour?"
She put the cup down and smiled wickedly. "If you want. I know what I want."
He had looked at her at the end of their match that first morning. Perspiration dotted her upper lip, and shone in the valley between her breasts. She had a look of resignation on her face, but it really wasn't unhappy resignation. Putting the balls back in the tin, he had let his eyes wander up her lithe body, golden in the hot sun. "So today the cup is mine!"
"Yeah," she retorted. "But just wait till tomorrow."
Six p.m. Time to cash in. There she stood, twirling in front of him playfully, letting the silk skirt open up, revealing both her scrumptious legs, and the bright white of her g-string front. The skin of her midriff and tummy glistened; her zirconium stud glinted in her navel. At first a couple of years ago, she had been nervous of showing off her tummy and her navel stud, but her natural shape and her regular exercise kept her firm and slim.
"God, you look so hot." He took his breath in quickly at the telltale sign: her nipples were visible through the thin satin of her top; for him who had seen them often it was easy to imagine the pale pink aureola crinkling around her hardening nub.
They were going to biggest club at the resort in Puerto Vallarta, and made sure they got themselves one of the high tables at the side of the bar, with high stools they could sit on so they could watch the people enter. Mainly it was younger people: couples, a group of four nurses they had met who were down there to cut loose, a few groups of guys of varying ages, and a number of pairs who were actually there for a beach volleyball tournament. The tournament lent an air of festivity to every evening, the extra adrenalin of competition seeming to add some electricity to the air. But the group Pierre and Natalie identified for themselves that night was a group of 6 friends, 4 men and two women, who were at medical school in Toronto together, all unattached. The two women were gorgeous, but seemed not to be interested in any of the men in their group; it seemed to be a case of "hands off", although they all had fun together, dancing and drinking.
What that meant, though, was that when Pierre and Natalie walked in front of their table on the first night, Natalie dressed as sexily as she was, there were at least 4 pairs of eyes following her - and possible 6 pairs of eyes, since Pierre thought he caught the two women casting their admiring eyes on Natalie. When Pierre told her this she giggled and rolled her eyes quickly. Although she would talk sometimes about what it must be like for two women to have sex, it was not a fantasy she pursued; it made her a little nervous, despite her imaginings. After they sat down and ordered their drinks, Pierre and Natalie smiled over at the group, and after a couple of dances struck up a conversation, and learned who they were, and where they had come from. Before too long, they joined the younger group, all around 25, about 20 years younger than Pierre and Natalie. Pierre smiled inwardly, and felt the knot in his crotch as the men couldn't keep their eyes off Natalie's cleavage or her legs. Her skirt opened up along her thigh, almost all the way up her ass, sometimes flashing a patch of white where her thong hugged her pussy tight, and her nipples were clearly visible below the thin straps that held up her top.
Natalie felt so alive at moments like this. Early on, she had felt nervous - and excited at the same time. Now she was more confident. She didn't worry at all about herself, knowing her body glowed; instead she became an expert at reading the reactions of men who watched. Especially the younger ones could not hide their interest, lust leapt in their faces like little flames, heating up their cheeks, opening their mouths, making them eager to strike up conversation. Once Pierre and Natlie had joined the group, she had toyed with them all, leaning back in the booth so her breasts were obvious, nipples outlined on the silver material, and her skirt sliding up along the smooth skin of her thighs. A couple of the guys had asked her to dance, and she complied, with Pierre's full agreement.
Once when she came back she smiled at Pierre, sipped her fourth marguerita, which was about one over her limit, and then let her eyes wander over to the quietest of the four men, a tall, athletic fair-haired young man, with a soft somewhat uncertain smile. She leaned over, her breasts bulging up under her arm, tapped his forearm and said, "Come on, Bill - that's your name, isn't it? Let's go and wheel around the dance floor a couple of times."
His face came to life. "Sure!" He got up quickly, and pushed his way past the two young women, who looked at each other and rolled their eyes, giggling.
His eyes had lit up when she had asked him, hungry to watch at closer quarters the luscious Natalie whom he had been staring at all night, and possibly even feel her lovely contours. They had a couple of fast dances, during which Natalie smiled and batted her eyes mischievously, then there was a slow dance. She didn't hesitate to slide her arms around his neck and press herself against him as they danced. Pierre could see her shifting her leg between his every once in a while, and thought he caught Bill pressing his hips forward a couple of times. Pierre's own cock was quite hard.
When the dance finished, Natalie and Bill parted, both their faces flushed. Even from 30 feet away it was easy to see her hard nipples. Natalie smiled and took Bill by the arm back to the table, kissing him on the cheek. Everyone at the table was staring at the hard dots in the middle of her breasts, then looking away, then looking back. "Thanks!" she said. "I love the way you move." She punctuated her words with another mischievous look, then turned to Pierre, placed her hand over his. "Let's go to our room." Pierre looked up, catching the intensity in her voice, his eyes at the level of her hard nipples.
Even as they waited for the elevator, she was all over him, her tongue practically down his throat. She handed him her thong panties, in a tiny ball. They were wet. "God, you are so sexy," he said. Her body moved against his sinuously, alternately pressing her breasts, then her belly, then her mound against his body. In the elevator he pressed her hard back against the wall, grinding his hard cock into her cunt. Her breath was coming fast and ragged, her pussy lifting to meet his thrusting bulge. He took both her hands and spread them apart against the side of the elevator, and looked down at her, at the heat and raw lust in her eyes.
"My little devil," he said. "Just aching to be fucked, aren't you?" She simply nodded and bit her lip, pressing herself forward although he still held her back.
