This story, I hope, stands alone. But it will make more sense - and be a more horny read - if you are familiar with Ch 1.
After no more than 10-15 mins we came to. I gloried in the fact I was lying, bollock naked, in a post-coital (or almost post-coital, as we hadn't actually fucked) glow, next to the woman of so many of my masturbatory fantasies.
"Time to get cleaned up?" I suggested. "And get out for dinner."
"Agreed," she replied, "I've worked up quite an appetite. Let's have a quick shower and get dressed and out."
"When, I have to tell you," she revealed, "I'm planning on wearing some of my sluttiest attire! There's no kids or James to hold me back. No need for me to play the part of the dutiful, professional, wife/mother/pillar of the community. Tonight, the look I'm going for is "hooker chic". Play your cards right and you may even get to cover me in more of your hot jizz later..."
I went to get my case from the separate room they'd placed me in (there was no way I was sleeping anywhere other than with Sarah) and came back to find her already in the shower. She was leaning back to wash her hair, which, if anything made her tits look even bigger. Water was cascading over her curves and she looked, once again, impossibly horny.
Reasoning that I'd probably never get this change again - and therefore wanting to make the most of every opportunity - I quickly stripped off and joined her under the jets.
Pulling her to me, my tongue, for the umpteenth time that day, was down her throat. Whilst my hands were mauling her tits and fingering her pussy. And she responded in kind, tweaking my nipples and manipulating my cock, which was, once again, rock hard.
Pulling away from me she looked deep into my eyes, "God, I love the way you can't keep your hands off me. I'd love to come again. And taste your hot spunk. But let's hold that thought. I want us both "on edge" all evening. And that means I want you feeling me up - in an entirely inappropriate fashion - whilst we are out. I fear if we come again it may just take that edge away."
"Ok," I reluctantly agreed, "I'd love to come now. But I do like the sound of the inappropriate groping in public!"
"Trust me," she said, "when you see what I'm wearing - or not wearing - you'll not be able to keep your hands off me. Get yourself dried and dressed, go and sit on the balcony and leave me to it. I'll show you what I mean."
30 mins later, as she came out onto the balcony, my stomach flipped.
She had on a white "bodycon" style dress. Absolutely hugging every inch of her magnificent body. It was cut very low at the front and left no doubt at all that those spectacular tits of her were braless. With her large, prominent, nipples visible through the fabric. It was also dangerously short. And it appeared she had no underwear on at all.
"Oh my god, you look sensational," I told her. "Like a hooker, of course," I laughed, "but so so beautiful." And she really did.
She actually blushed. "Thank you, do you really think I'm beautiful?"
"I really really do," I assured her. "It is a "slutty" look of course, but you look absolutely stunning. Breathtaking in fact."
"Thank you so much, that's really sweet of you," she simpered, blushing again, shyly, almost innocently. Not an adverb I'd imagined I'd be using to describe her, given what I'd learnt so far today.
"That does my confidence a power of good."
Looking back - and without coming over all psycho-analytical - I've wondered if her desire to be desired sprung from low self-esteem about her looks. Though I can't imagine why she would ever think like that.
I knew enough about the importance of not messing up a woman's hair and make-up to not go for a "full-frontal assault". Instead, I moved her back into the room, in front of the full-length mirror. Standing behind her, I nuzzled the nape of her neck whilst reaching into the dress to fish out a tit and manipulate the nipple as we both watched in the mirror.
"I've honestly never seen - and certainly never felt, such magnificent tits. They are just perfect."
I then reached under the dress to fondle her arse and access her pussy.
I was wrong, she did have underwear on. A tiny, gossamer like, thong. But it did nothing to prohibit access of my fingers to her - once more - dripping pussy.
Looking deep into each other's eyes, albeit through the mirror, the lust we felt for each other was written all over our faces. In fact, I'd say she looked hornier then she had naked on the beach, earlier in the day.
Continuing to reign gentle kisses on her neck and her earlobes, I pulled on her nipple with one hand and jammed two fingers inside her. Which I alternated with frigging her engorged clit. She was, as she seemed to have been all day, soaking wet.
"Oh fuck, flick my clit, kiss my neck, grope my tits. You're going to make me come again."
But I stopped. And withdrew my fingers from her juicy cunt. And disentangled myself from her neck.
"Hold that thought," I said, playing back what she'd said to me an hour or so earlier. "I want you "on edge" all evening, before I bring you off again. In fact, if I get you drunk enough and horny enough you may relent and let me fuck you."
"You bastard," she grimaced. "But that's a good plan. Apart from the fucking! Now let's get out. I want to show everyone else how slutty I am."
As we walked through reception, every eye was on us. Or, to be accurate, on Sarah. Enough of the hotel staff and guests had seen us on his holiday to know that we'd been with other partners. So, as surprised as they were at her attire, they also looked on aghast at my hand drifting from the small of her back to occasional fondling of her arse.
"You'll have got the impression," I told Sarah, "that I'm obsessed with your tits. But your arse is pretty spectacular too. Encased in that tight sundress, it's showcasing two almost perfect globes."
"I'm really glad you like it," she preened. "Feel free to add it to the parts of me you plan to inappropriately grope tonight."
So, as we left the hotel and made the short walk into town, I spent a lot of time doing just that. As well as, occasionally, getting bolder and putting my arm round her shoulder reaching down and groping a tit and tweaking a nipple. Though taking care not to do this if we were near families with children.
We choose to eat in a bustling restaurant that we'd previously enjoyed. Securing a small corner table, we sat on two sides of the table, rather than facing each other. It was also near the bottom of the stairs to the roof terrace. Ordinarily, not a great table, but perfect for tonight.
It meant I could reach under the table and caress Sarah's legs. And there was a regular stream of customers going up and down the stairs, whose eyes were constantly drawn to the vision in white before their eyes.
"I want to go and show off shortly in a bar or club, so let's just have a main course," suggested Sarah.
Neither of us were huge drinkers, but we shared a carafe of wine. Nowhere near enough to get us drunk, but just enough to remove any final inhibitions either of us may have had. Not that Sarah appeared to have any inhibitions at all.
As we waited for our meal to arrive, I progressed from caressing her leg to reaching under the hem of her skirt. Initially stroking her pussy over the gusset of her thong. And then, reaching under the thong and fingering her pussy. Which was, of course, dripping wet. Was it ever not, I wondered?
As I'd expected, Sarah did nothing to stop me. Instead she opened her legs wide to ensure I had the best possible access. And leaned in to whisper to me, "Frig my clit and jam your fingers up my juicy, slutty, cunt."
I spent some time doing exactly that, before she reached under the table herself to replace my fingers with her own. Ensuring her own fingers were coated with her pussy juice, she raised one to my mouth, saying, "See how turned on I am, get a taste of my sweet pussy."
I sucked her fingers in to my mouth, to savour the tangy taste. God, it was intoxicating.
Returning the favour, Sarah started rubbing my groin under the table. Unlike her pussy, my dick was not so easily accessible. But she managed to unzip me and reached into my boxers and gently stroked my rock-hard cock. Smearing the pre-ejaculate, that was oozing from me, around my glans, she scooped some onto her finger. Then, as she'd done to me, raising it to her mouth and provocatively sucking my juices from it.
"Mmm, almost nicer than the wine," she decreed.
Finishing our meal, we swiftly paid the bill and headed out into the street. I was very keen to get back to the hotel and finish what we'd started earlier. But Sarah was having none of it.
"I haven't had a chance to dress like this for years and years. You and I are off dancing and I'm going to strut my slutty stuff. You know how much it turns me on. And I can see - and feel - the effect it's having on you." As she, once again, grabbed my erect cock through my trousers.
We found the busiest bar/club in the resort, with a small dance floor, already almost full. As we queued at the bar, to get a drink in the semi-darkness, I stood behind Sarah. As we waited to get the barman's attention, I was fondling her arse. As well as nibbling the back of her neck and an earlobe. Knowing now how much this turned her on.
I also snaked my hand under her dress and against the gusset of her thong. As I did this, she reached behind her back and rubbed my cock.
"You're a dirty perve," she whispered to me. "But don't worry, I love it. Keep feeling me up and groping my tits and my juicy, slutty, cunt..."
As we got served, I removed my hand from her pussy and started groping her tits, as she'd just directed me. She did nothing at all to stop me. I was wondering if, short of being arrested, there was anything she'd draw the line at?
Confirming that view, she grasped my hand and rubbed it against her tit, tweaking her own nipple. Much to the amusement of the middle-aged guy who served us. And the incredulity of the young couple to our side.
I took our drinks and found a table to put them on, right next to the dance floor, whilst Sarah went to the bathroom, "to freshen up."
On her return, Sarah wrapped herself around me and started grinding against me.
"Feel me up again," she purred into my ear.
I followed her direction, ensuring, for her benefit and others around us, that it was clear, as I wormed my hand under the hem of her dress, that I was fingering her pussy.
"Jeez," I spluttered, "now you really do have nothing under your dress."
"I took my thong off in the loo so you'd have unfettered access. And when I'm on the dance floor others will get to see my slutty gash!"
I laughed, and took her in my arms. Pulling my fingers out of her pussy I held her head in my hands and drew her in for a deep, passionate kiss. We made out like teenagers (or "necked" as we used to call it when we
were
