Shedding Inhibitions
Some men might wonder why I didn't get upset when my wife allowed two strangers to bring her to orgasm in public. To be frank, I couldn't have been happier about how that turned out. My wife having that sort of wild experience was the whole point of the trip to Puerto Rico.
Bringing her to a foreign place, giving Brooke her own hotel room, and not allowing my wife any of her own clothes all served to break down her identity so that she'd be more pliant. I'd been disappointed at first that she hadn't used the name we'd created for her, but as it turned out, that hadn't been necessary. Slutty clothes, constant exposure, and a requirement to flirt with any man who approached her, not to mention my wholehearted encouragement, had allowed my wife to tap into a part of herself that she didn't even know existed.
The biggest surprise was that it happened so quickly. While I'd pushed her to be wilder back home, I thought it'd take her at least half a week before she'd even kiss someone let alone allow two men to touch her so intimately. Watching Brooke lose her inhibitions and hangups so completely in thirty six hours left me hard and stunned in admiration for my amazing wife.
Truthfully, the only thing that bothered me was her time with Walt. I'd tailed them all afternoon and photographed everything, but it didn't feel sexy to me at all. To be honest, the fact that he didn't try anything with her worried me more than if he had. I didn't like the idea of the arrogant prick courting my wife.
After covertly observing her all afternoon with Walt and then photographing everything that happened at the strip club, I'd intended on reclaiming my wife with the hardest fuck of her life. Even though I'd cum in my pants several times that day, I remained fully erect on the drive back to our hotel. Though she'd cum hard in the club, I could tell Brooke needed me as much as I needed her.
When we entered her hotel room, I couldn't wait to get Brooke on the bed. I wanted to fuck her right away, but after seeing her on what anyone would regard as a romantic date with Walt, I felt the need to remind her who she belonged to. I used every sex toy in the pink box to show my wife that her body remained mine to play with, and the more she climaxed, the more I wanted to torture her with even more pleasure.
Just as I'd done when I watched those two Asian businessmen bring my wife to orgasm, I came in my pants every time Brooke climaxed. I kept imagining being one of those men taking my wife over the edge in such a public place, and I found myself stuck in a loop of wanting to do it 'just one more time'. When I'd finally sated that carnal compulsion, I discovered that I'd created a whole new problem.
I still wanted to fuck the shit out of my wife to show her who was in charge, but my sustained stimulation over the last eleven hours and the repeated orgasms had left me impotent. I'd assumed I wouldn't be able to cum much, but I hadn't counted on my cock becoming a limp noodle right when I actually needed it.
I tried to just get up and leave before my wife realized my issue, but then Brooke practically begged me to fuck her. In my attempt to hide my embarrassing impotence, I made the problem a hundred times worse. By invoking rule ten, I'd inadvertently cock blocked myself for the rest of the week.
My stupid pride had shattered my plan to use Brooke's daytime playing with strangers as foreplay for our lovemaking at night. As I mentally sprawled to come up with a new plan, I could see my attempt to distract her with the anal vibrator would never be enough in her hyper-aroused state. After telling my wife she could play with her other toys if she wanted, I fled like a limp dicked coward.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I knew I should've just been honest with her. By the time I walked away from Brooke's room on Sunday night, desolation and self-loathing had replaced the incredible high I'd experienced at the strip club. My ego had caused me to make a rash decision, and I saw no way to correct it and still maintain our whole Dom/sub dynamic. If my wife couldn't trust me to make good decisions and stick to them, how could she trust me when I ordered her to push her own limits?
I'd never felt less like man as when I returned to my room and peeled off my cum encrusted underwear in the bathroom. I put on a fresh pair and a clean T-shirt before tiptoeing to my bed so I wouldn't wake up Bob. I stuffed my soiled underwear in the bag I used for dirty laundry and then lay in bed for hours thinking about my humiliating failure as a husband.
If it had ever happened to me before, maybe it wouldn't have seemed such a big deal, but lying there with my coworker snoring away in the next bed, I seriously worried about what I'd do if it turned out to be a permanent condition. I fretted over it until around three when I finally dozed off for a few hours.
In the morning, I stumbled into the bathroom and shaved as soon as Bob left for the day. I can't overstate the immense relief I experienced when my morning wood popped up on schedule. After showering, I put on a pair of khakis and a salmon polo before I headed up to the twenty first floor.
Brooke answered the door still wet from her shower. I wrapped my arms around my wife's nude body, and her supple skin felt like heaven. I thought about taking her right then, but I still hadn't figured out a way around rule ten.
"Good morning," I said cheerily when we finally broke our embrace. I noticed a bit of darkness under Brooke's slightly bloodshot eyes, and I wondered how long she'd masturbated after I left. A strange mix of arousal and jealousy erupted within me as I imagined her spending all night masturbating while fantasizing about all the men she'd been naughty with over the weekend.
"Good morning," she answered with a weary smile.
"Let's get you moved," I said as I pressed past her into her room.
To my surprise, my wife had already packed up everything but her hairbrush. I waited for her to finish drying her hair and then ordered Brooke to put on the red bikini. I slung her toiletry bag over my shoulder and dragged the suitcase behind me as we headed for the elevator.
"Go walk ahead of me," I ordered in the parking garage so I could take a few snapshots of Brooke strolling amongst the cars in her tiny bikini. A couple of hotel employees walked by in the opposite direction, and I managed to capture their shocked and then pleased expressions as they passed my practically naked wife. I took comfort in my working erection and in how she swung her hips even more as both men turned to ogle her from behind.
I'd arranged for an early check-in at her new hotel, but I made Brooke take care of it after seeing that a handsome young Latino manned the front desk. Like she had at my hotel, my wife lifted her boobs up and left them perched on the counter for the hotel clerk's visual enjoyment. The two of them talked and laughed far longer than necessary to check in, but I couldn't blame the guy for wanting to keep her there longer. Out of habit, I took several photos from concealment behind a ficus plant to document the moment.
As soon as we entered her new hotel room on the fifteenth floor, Brooke pulled the ties on her bikini top and tossed it on the dresser. Her little bottoms quickly followed. Only then did my wife unbuckle her high heeled sandals and set them in the closet.
I dropped her suitcase on the bed so she could unpack while I set her toiletry bag in the bathroom. Instead of opening her luggage, Brooke strode to the glass door to the small balcony. She'd already opened the drapes by the time I emerged from the bathroom, and now my wife slid the door open to let the warm breeze caress her bare skin.
This expensive room on the top floor had more amenities than the hotel where they held my convention. Brooke had a microwave, a minifridge, and a coffee maker. Her bathroom featured a glass shower in addition to a bathtub. Her new balcony looked out on the parking lot and the taller hotel next door.
"Ethan, we need to talk," my wife stated, walking up to stand close enough that her nipples brushed my polo shirt.
"OK," I sighed as my body automatically reacted to four words no husband likes hearing.
"I'm concerned about what happened yesterday."
"You are?" I asked as if everything had gone swimmingly. Certain she'd become angry about us not making love, I braced myself for a humiliating confession.
