I'd only been manning my company's booth for about fifteen minutes when I received a text from Brooke's burner phone. In the selfie, my pouting wife stood in her red bikini beside a completely empty pool. A text soon followed.
> Nobody at the pool to play with this morning. I think I'll change and go hunting elsewhere.
I smiled but didn't bother texting back. No clever retort came to mind, and I figured she'd assume my silence meant I was busy working. I puttered around the booth for about twenty minutes before I received a second photo.
This time, my wife stood in her burnt orange bikini tightly wedged between two shirtless black guys in mirrored sunglasses. One guy had a thick gold chain around his neck, and the other sported a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. They might've been perfectly nice, but they looked like rough characters.
Both these strangers had their arms around my wife while Mr. Bling held Brooke's phone up to get the right angle. The pool deck to one side looked different, so I assumed she'd left her own resort. She looked gorgeous in the bright sunlight, and I idly wondered if one or both men had helped my wife with her sunscreen.
I looked up from my phone to ensure I remained alone, but I needn't have bothered. Bob didn't really trust me to make sales, so he'd asked me to man the booth on Wednesday, which served as a transition day when the conventioneers who arrived the first weekend flew home and the ones attending the second half of the week flew in. Less than a hundred bored people idled in Meeting Halls A through C, most of them manning their booths waiting for the occasional passerby.
In fact, half the booths had been left unmanned, and I felt tempted to do the same. Only my promise to my extremely understanding coworker kept me in that nearly empty room. I received another text, so I turned my attention back to something far more interesting than my job.
> I met Marcus and Jordan on the beach. They invited me for drinks at their hotel pool bar!
Scrolling back up to the selfie, I now noticed a bright blue cocktail with a little umbrella on a marble bar in the background. I stared dumbly at the contrast between my wife's porcelain skin and the dark brown chests of her two new friends, and I started a bit when my phone dinged again. I assume the guy with the tats took this new photo because I didn't see him in it.
Taken from the pool deck, the new shot took in the entire bar with its thatched roof and wooden pillars. A smiling bartender with an impressive Zapato mustache cleaned a glass with a rag in the background. Facing the camera, Mr. Bling had his arm around my wife's waist while she held up her oversized cocktail to toast the camera.
> ur wife said u'd like this photo. We were surprised when she said u get off on her going out and hooking up with other guys. We'll take real good care of her!
My stomach turned unpleasantly as I reread the message. I didn't even know if he was Marcus or Jordan. All I knew was that my wife had told these complete strangers exactly what we were doing, and I was too far away to do anything about it.
My initial reaction was to feel betrayed. How could my wife tell anyone that? Fury consumed me for almost a minute, but then it dissipated like fog on a windshield after turning on the defroster.
Really? What exactly am I mad about?
The rules required Brooke to tell men that her husband ignored her and that she liked to meet new people. I hadn't told her to say I wanted her to flirt with other men, but I hadn't said to keep it a secret either. My wife is an inherently honest person, and expecting her to lie about something without me even asking
was
a bit much to ask.
Besides, I'd probably never even meet these guys. What did I care what they thought? Since they were staying at a hotel on the other side of the country, they obviously weren't there for the convention. Hell, they might be from anywhere in the world.
Instead of trying to attract the attention of the few potential customers wandering by, I stared at my phone like a teenager. I really wanted to be there to ensure Brooke's safety, but I couldn't let Bob down after he covered for me all week. My wife was truly on her own, and I just had to pray that she'd stick to the rules.
Glancing around the cavernous room lightly populated with men and women who actually cared about our industry, I felt very alone and a little lost. I made a real meal of resetting the video that played on the big monitor at the back of our display, but I really just needed to turn away so I could readjust my erection to a more comfortable position. Twenty minutes later, I was still contemplating my body's reaction to Brooke's photos when another one popped up on my phone.
My wife sat sideways on the tattooed guy's lap at the bar, and his dark hand rested below her pale hip where the orange ties to her bottoms hung down. I'd tied them myself to make sure they weren't double knotted, so he could just pull on one and Brooke's suit would come apart. The idea that this guy could pull three strings and leave my wife completely naked in that pool brought me right back to full hardness even as my lack of control of the situation left me dry mouthed and panicked.
Brooke's eyes looked shiny, and I could tell she'd had more than one or two of those fancy cocktails. She stared directly into the camera with a wild smile, and her arousal would've been obvious to anyone. I found it hard to breathe as I stared at the photo, and I jumped a little when the next one arrived.
Both Brooke and Tattoo Guy now stood laughing by the mostly submerged barstools. She faced the camera in front of him with her arms up and around his neck, and that posture somehow looked incredibly submissive. However, it was the guy's hands hefting my wife's breasts that had my full attention. I could practically hear my wife giggling as this complete stranger fondled her breasts through the thin material of her unlined bikini.
When I finally tore my eyes from those deep brown hands, I noticed that the guy was nuzzling my wife's neck. Brooke had tilted her head away from his mouth to expose her long neck to him, and I thought about how much breath and lips on that particular spot drove my wife wild. Even as I fretted about this getting out of hand, I had to sit behind the table so the other conventioneers wouldn't see my raging erection.
> Bro! ur wife is so hot!
A couple of customers interrupted my obsessive study of the photos on my phone, and I tried to get my mind back on my job. I even managed to sound coherent, though all I could think about was my wife enjoying another man's fondling hands. In my mind, she wasn't wearing the bikini top anymore.
I received new texts every ten or fifteen minutes as I manned that stupid booth, and the photos grew increasingly sexual. Brooke hugging first one guy, and then the other.... Then a shot of her kissing Mr. Bling... Only ten minutes later, I received another of my wife passionately making out with Tattoo Guy right there in that public pool.
After that, most of the photos featured the two men taking turns kissing Brooke, but that doesn't mean things didn't continue escalating. Before lunch, I had two photos of my wife having her ass groped, one where she had her hand on the tattooed guy's package, and then another where she faced away from the camera kissing Mr. Bling. In that last one, I noted her orange bikini top draped across an oversized margarita glass on the bar.
Knowing my wife had pressed her bare chest against another guy and sent me a photo of it sent a jolt of jealousy and fear through my mind. It also caused me to cum in my pants. The convention faded away as I stared at the photo and tried to imagine what my wife might be doing now.
Of course, she'd done similar things on the boat the day before, but I'd been right there to stop things from getting out of hand. That also hadn't been so public. On that Wednesday morning, I had to face both my wife's vulnerability and my complete inability to protect her. I truly can't express how erotic and scary the whole situation became.
I also had to deal with the fact that Brooke had taken complete control of our little game. These weren't photo's I'd taken from cover as she completed a challenge. My wife had engaged two men in our sexual game, and the three of
them
decided what I saw and didn't see. Somehow, that made the whole experience exponentially more intense, and it certainly topped anything we'd done before that.
Another photo came in that captured Brooke and Tattoo Guy from the side as they kissed deeply. I could see the side of my wife's bare breast pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders. The cocky bastard had both hands on her ass.
More accurately, he had both hands inside my wife's bikini bottoms as he squeezed her round buttocks. Even though I'd already ejaculated, my wife's antics caused me to remain hard as I waited breathlessly for the next photo. When it came, so did I.
My eyes went wide as I stared at my topless wife facing the camera flanked by her two new friends. I presumed the bartender took the photo since the bar was no longer visible in the background. The grinning guys each had one arm behind her, presumably inside her bottoms possessively holding one buttock, but that wasn't what stopped my breathing.
I stood there stunned on the convention floor with strangers walking by as I stared at my wife's hands wrapped around two erect cocks right there in the thigh high water. Her little hands looked tiny as she grasped their meaty shafts. Two other women in bathing suits walked by on the pool deck only feet behind them.
I could tell Brooke had become completely inebriated, but I still couldn't believe my eyes. We'd done some risky things, even kinky things, but never in my wildest dreams did ever I think she'd send me a photo like this. Even after her antics on the boat the day before and the strip club before that, it took me several minutes to wrap my head around the fact that my wife had actually asked the bartender to take this photo.
When I could finally tear my eyes from the bottom half of the screen, I took in Brooke's drunken, elated expression. There could be no mistake that holding those two cocks made my wife ecstatic. They weren't much different from mine other than color, but somehow the contrast between her pale hands and their dark shafts amplified the novelty of the moment.
Maddeningly, Bob picked that very moment to visit the booth to check on things, and I had to make a show of picking up the trash in the booth and shoving it all in a box to cover both my erection and the dark stain on my khakis. Asking Bob to cover the booth for a few minutes, I carried the box out, making sure to keep it in front of my crotch.
Fuck. At this rate, I'm going to run out of clothes before the end of the week. I really need to find out if the hotel has a laundry service...
The texts stopped after that earth shattering photo. Once I got up to my room, I changed into some fresh pants and hid my soiled khakis and underwear with the other clothes I'd messed up over the prior four days. Rushing back down to the convention floor, I apologized to Bob for taking so long.
"Don't sweat it, Dude. I have plenty of time before I need to be where I'm going," he assured me before stepping out from behind our table. "Take it easy."
"Yeah, you too."
That afternoon turned out to be pure torture. With no incoming texts, I had no idea what might be happening. The worst part was that I couldn't even be sure that my imagination was worse than the reality. Around three, something occurred to me that sent me into an emotional spiral.
Fuck! Last night I told Brooke that anal sex doesn't count...
For all I knew, those two guys could be spit roasting my wife at that very moment. The image of my wife with a cock in her throat and another up her ass set up residence in my mind, and I had no way to evict it. I could even picture her moving back and forth between them as they made her do all the work.
Goddam it... she'd love that...
The longer my wife went radio silent, the more convinced I became that those two strangers were double teaming her. It drove me crazy. Even though the image turned me on, my fear and concern over her safety spoiled any pleasure I might get out of it. I'd never felt so helpless and lonely.
At five, I rushed through closing up the display and headed for my room. I didn't expect Bob until late, so I took a shower that had zero chance of making me feel clean. As I lay in bed naked, I transferred the photos on my phone to my laptop so I could study them on a larger screen.
I stared at them for almost an hour as I desperately and futilely sought clues to what might be happening. Eventually, I noticed the name of the resort on a cabana in the background. Looking up the number, I called and asked for the bartender at the pool. The hotel operator connected me right away.
"Buenas tardes. Bar en la piscina ParaÃso."
"Hello. I need some information," I explained in English. I'd become so flummoxed by my wife's actions that it didn't even occur to me to use Spanish. "Two of my friends were at the pool earlier. They might've had a redhead with them.
"Ah! SÃ. I remember the woman," the bartender replied in decent English, and I felt very lucky that the shift hadn't changed yet. "She was very beautiful. Muy caliente! My manager got upset because they got very wild, but the three of them settled down after that. I won't be forgetting her any time soon."
"I'm sure you won't," I said, hoping he wouldn't figure out what I really wanted. "Do you know where my friends went off to? I'm trying to meet up with them, but I haven't been able to find them."
