Within 30 minutes or so, Andrea and I were by the pool, properly covered in sunscreen and wearing bathing suits. I was in a blue floral one-piece, lying back on one of those reclining pool chairs. I held a double vodka soda in my left hand. Beads of moisture were trailing down the glass, rolling over my knuckles and then falling onto the pool deck.
Five feet away, someone's wife was getting absolutely destroyed by a semi-organized team of men. She had a dick in her mouth and one in her ass. We had already seen two guys come on or in her, and three more were gathered around stroking themselves.
I took a sip of my drink and tried not to blush.
"Fucking hell, that's gotta hurt," Andrea said. She was in a forest green tankini with boy-cut briefs. She sat upright in a recliner beside mine and held a glass of sangria. "I mean, congratulations to her for being so flexible, but that's a lot of fucking cock to take up the ass."
"Not so loud," I said, afraid of drawing attention.
The men who were actively engaged in fucking the woman (including the guy who was pounding her ass, and whose dick was indeed truly massive), were not going to get distracted, of course. But gathered around the woman (who wore nothing but a digital collar and wedding ring) were the three other guys. Those three, waiting their turns, were looking around and grinning with anticipation as they stroked themselves. When Andrea spoke, one of them turned to look at us and grinned cheerfully.
I wasn't sure that I was ready to meet the eyes of a middle-aged guy who was actively stroking himself by a swimming pool. I took a bigger gulp out of my drink.
"Don't you dare be a prude about this," Andrea said to me, without taking her eyes off of the middle-aged woman's tits. The unlucky slut was on her back. Her ankles were high in the air to give the well-endowed man access to her asshole. Andrea cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted "Yaaaas, queen" as the man using her mouth came with a shudder and cum began to dribble out the side of the MILF's mouth. "That's fucking hot! I love it."
Andrea was by far the loudest of the spectators, but she was not the only one who provided audience feedback. Several other people around the pool clapped politely when the man came. Then, as if leaving space at a salad bar for the next customer, he stood up from kneeling by the slut's face. She had (by her collar) still had another 14 minutes left. The man whose cum was drying on her lips tapped a credit card against her collar and walked away nonchalantly.
The woman at the centre of everyone's attention was a little overweight and older but sexy as hell. She was fully shaved and probably would have had a nice face of makeup before she started gagging on dick. By now, that makeup was very smudged and her hair was dishevelled. According to her collar, the resort was charging $25 for every six minutes with her. The bathing suit by her feet, which she must have been wearing until she tried to make some kind of purchase, was barely any fabric at all.
My mind went into detective mode. I evaluated data:
a) a skimpy bathing suit.
b) a shaved pussy, and heavy makeup.
c) and her tits... were they...? Yes, the way her big boobs bounced was a clear giveaway; she had implants.
d) lastly I considered the diamond on her ring finger. I'm no jewellery expert, but I suspect it was expensive.
I whispered into Andrea's ear as she watched another man line up to use her face as a dick holster. "I bet that she's a swinger. No doubt in my mind that her husband is around somewhere. She and him own a hot tub, probably. They have probably been hosting orgies for years. Long before the slut card even got invented. I'd say..." I glanced around. "Yup. Three o'clock, the bald dude with the plate of fries over there at the poolside bistro. Fifty bucks says that he's her husband."
Andrea matched my gaze and saw the man I meant. He had a polo shirt on over his bathing suit. I kept on with my amateur sociology. "He's nowhere near hot enough for his wife, but he's probably absolutely devoted to giving her everything she wants, and pretty much loaded. Look at the smile on his face. He knows she loves this."
The Hotwife (as I now mentally baptized her) was moaning and shouting something, but it was rapidly muffled. I saw why; the newcomer held his balls by her mouth and she obediently began licking them. Like the others, he had a card on an coil around his wrist, and he tapped it against her collar absentmindedly as she got to work. "We should get a couple of those coil things; then I won't have to bring our day-bags to the pool," I said.
"Twelve minutes left, you magnificent slut! You've got this!" Andrea shouted, before sitting back and grinning like a woman who was possessed. "I fucking love this place," she said to me. Then she jumped out of her seat and grabbed my face and kissed me roughly. "I love you! Thank you for making me do this.""
"You're so welcome, Andrea. I knew you needed something like this after three years of case law, grade curves and three-hour-long tests." I relaxed and tried to lean against her, but she was too energized to cuddle.
"I'm hungry," she said. "Let's get something at the bistro."
As she began to bolt upright, I grabbed her wrist and held on to her. "Ah ah," I said. "I appreciate that you're a woman with appetites, I really do. But you need to pay for these drinks before we go."
I waved at a man who wore white shorts and a white button-up shirt over sandals. He was the one who had brought us the drinks, and I had already noticed that he was wearing a collar. An unlucky guest, then, not staff.
"Yes, ma'am?" He said as he came by. I couldn't guess his age, but he was older than me. He had short, salt-and-pepper hair with a neat side part. He was very tall, and narrow, he had the sort of body you associate with middle-aged guys who go jogging every morning no matter where they are or what else is going on. His collar said that he was worth $3 per six minutes.
