The Asshole 02

[Jess]

I snapped the photo and hit send, my heart racing. Chuy and I don't send each other risqué selfies—too risky, even if I knew he'd never betray me and share them—so ten pictures of me in ever-skimpier bikinis was a first. My head wasn't in any of them and my inter-joined Mr. & Mrs. hearts tattoo was on my right wrist (matching his tattoo), invisible to the camera. Still, I wondered what he'd think. That last photo was mostly of my ass because the green thong hid nothing.

I looked at it again. Shit! I didn't realize the way I was bent, you could see my butthole around the thong. I imagined him opening it up while talking with one of his coworkers about the tunnel project they've been working on for months. His track software up on the screen, everyone thinking about the civil engineering stuff I can't follow when my ass pops up. I bit my lip. What if he'd connected his messages to his computer and a string of more and more exposed pictures of his wife flashed up, in front of everyone?

I thought about taking another shot, this time with the bikini pulled aside so he could see how wet I was thinking about our little game. We'd been imagining me getting exposed to that asshole with the loud motorcycle for two weeks as I looked for bikinis—and ended up ordering ten from Amazon to find the hottest one. I didn't exactly understand why it turns him on so much. I didn't understand why it turns

me

on so much. I was blushing all the way down to my chest as I imagined how embarrassing it would be if his coworkers saw me.

Blushing and laying down on the bed. Usually, my afternoon "self -are" break involved my toy box, but that afternoon, all I wanted was my imagination and my fingers.

I pictured Chuy turning red and scrambling to quit out of messages as his coworker asks who that is. Instead of quitting, he accidentally launches Preview, so my ass blows up all over his screen. The little thong nestled against my butthole, my pussy lips clearly outlined in the green fabric, the moisture visible.

Chuy yammers, turning red and sweating as he fumbles with the mouse, trying to quit Preview, but all of his efforts just draw his coworker's attention.

"Damn, look at that ass!"

Chuy drops the mouse, and it dangles from the drafting table. "Shit!"

His coworker laughs. "No problem, bro. Can you send that to me? That bitch is so fucking hot."

I played with my ass, circling around my rosebud, imagining Chuy standing there, not sure what to do. He'd want his coworker to see me. Just like he wanted the asshole to see me. I spread my cheeks, imagining sending Chuy an obscene ass selfie. Imagining Chuy's cock tenting his trouser as his coworker tells him how much he'd like to fuck the woman on the screen.

"Does your wife know about these pics?" he asks.

Chuy shakes his head, too ashamed to admit he's given up hiding his wife's ass from his coworker. When the ass selfie I imagined sending comes, he opens it. "This shot is even hotter."

"Fuck! Bro, you have to send me that. Do you have more?" He laughs. "I know what I'm doing tonight."

Chuy's heart races as he is torn between wanting me to send an even more explicit photo and wishing he never opened the photos up at all.

As I imagined taking a shot of my sopping cunt, my hips buck and I come so hard, I'm left literally panting.

And I wasn't finished. I came twice more, taking nasty selfie and selfie and imagining sending them to Chuy and his coworker. When I finally managed to calm my fucking horny genes down enough to get back to work, I deleted all the photos. I worked very hard not to imagine some cloud service IT bro spying on them because I had work to do.

An hour later, I got a message from Chuy, "Jesus y María, Jess! I was in a meeting with Ted. Thank God I didn't open them in the meeting, because my cock got furious when I was back at my desk. Leaving early. Chuy Burrito needs to see #10 in person."

I had to wash #10 twice before I felt I could wear it for our game. The burrito was

very

enthusiastic in his offerings.

Even though I was wearing a cover up I'd feel comfortable wearing into a casual beach restaurant, Chuy's board shorts couldn't hide the fact his cock was charged up and ready for action as we locked up our bikes outside of the pool.

"God, I can't believe we're doing this. Are you ready?"

"Maybe we should just go home where you can give your wife a nice, long fuck. Fantasy achieved just riding over here." I pretended to unlock my bike as if I was going to ride home.

"Jess..." Poor Chuy looked so deflated. Well, not deflated. Definitely not deflated.

I laughed. "Just teasing." I laughed again. "Well, not quite

teasing

. Go into the bathhouse and watch your wife show off her tight little body in this skimpy bikini." I flipped up the bottom of the coverup to flash him the bottom curve of my ass.

He groaned with desire.

"You'd better get in there. I don't want you to explode before I've even uncovered."

He kissed me. "This is so hot."

"Just make to save some crema for me."

Chuy knocked on the bathhouse window, letting me know he could see me.

I turned by back to him as I stripped off my cover up. After arranging my sunscreen, water bottle and a book next to the chaise, I decided to lay on my belly, letting him focus on my best feature.

At first, I was really horny, thinking about how excited Chuy must be and how much his huge dick was ready to burst. I wish he were better sized for me, but I love how there's no mistaking it when he's really turned on. I sometimes think he must get stupid from all that blood shifting to his cock.

After a while, though, my mind drifted. He was taking a long time! He must have been really enjoying savoring this, but I began feeling that it was more like sunbathing than displaying myself. I wiggled my ass for him a bit and put on my headphones and dark sunglasses. If he hadn't gotten off my hot bubble butt, he could jerk off thinking about my little tits.

This was so sexy when we were imagining it. Why wasn't it working now?

It was Chuy. He's seen every part of me up close. He's put his tongue on almost every part of my body.

I wanted somebody else to see me. Somebody else noticing that tiny bikini left me almost naked. Two little triangles of fabric that didn't even cover half of my breasts. If I had a big chest, they'd leave most of it exposed. The triangle at the front was hardly big enough to hide the landing strip I'd left when I'd waxed the night before.

In my mind, the person watching me was invisible, unknown. It might even be a woman. One of the middle-aged women from the restaurant. A woman from a culture where women never exposed themselves like this. A woman judging me for being a slut.

Fuck, that is such a fucked up thought. A delicious, fucked up thought.

Chuy and I talked about how I'd grab my cover up and leave if I heard that motorcycle asshole, or anyone, coming. But I wanted to hear that fucking motorcycle roaring. I wanted him to stare at my chest while I laid here, pretending to sleep. Would he touch himself? He's such an asshole, I bet he would. He's the kind of man who doesn't give a shit.

It's so fucked up that I was thinking about him. He had to be fifty or sixty. There's nothing about him that's not loathsome.

[Chuy]

It wasn't the same. It's not that Jess isn't as hot as Esmé. Esmé always wore bikinis you might wear at a public pool—the kind that didn't really expose much of her breast or ass, no matter how she laid on the chaise lounge. She had big tits that looked amazing and tempting in her bikini, but Jess's ass is—honestly, it's like God put sex into a bubble butt. And her little breasts turn me on more than big floppy ones once clothes come off. It was hot and steamy in the pool house, just like in our backyard. There were a few flies buzzing around and the view was kind of bad in the same way. But the tension wasn't there. I wasn't really spying on her. I was watching my wife sunbathe.

I touched myself, trying to recreate the feeling I had spying on Esmé, but my mind drifted to that asshole starting at Jess. We agreed we'd leave if he showed up, but, fuck, I wanted him there. I wanted the wrongness of it. I squeezed myself through my shorts. I wanted him there so much.

When I heard his motorcycle rumble on the opposite side of the development, I wasn't sure if I was imagining it because I wanted it so much, or if he really was on his way. If he rode what we gathered was his typical route, he might see Jess out there. Might stop. Might watch her.

Not might. Did. I heard his motorcycle stop near the Syrian restaurant. He probably couldn't see Jess from there. That's what I told myself. I didn't need to tell her he was coming and we should cover up and go. I knew she wouldn't hear him with her noise-cancelling headphones on, so I was the one who had to act.

Instead, I stroked myself, at first through my shorts, and then dropping them to my knees, as that amazing tension rose. What was my problem that I got turned on by that asshole checking out my wife? I should be spying on his wife, if he had one. I was close to coming before I heard his footsteps.

His footsteps. He was coming. Jess and I planned on leaving if he showed up. I took my hand off my dick. Not to warn my wife, but to keep from coming.

We both fantasized about this. It might be a small bikini, but it's still a bikini. She could wear that to a public beach.

His steps got closer, and I touched myself again.

I can stop him if he says anything. Jess knows I'm here. I could break him in two if I have to.

The gate squeaked as he opened it. The asshole glanced about and walked right over to where my wife was laying, possibly asleep, with her headphones blocking out any sounds.

[Jess]

I was so caught up in thinking about how fucked up it was that I was horny AF for him to watch me that I almost didn't notice the rumble of that stupid fucking motorcycle.

What a fucking asshole, racing around a place designed to be free of shit like that. A place for kids to run around safe without having to be micromanaged by moms. A place where sluts don't lie out in the sun, all but naked.

Did Chuy hear the engine roar? It stopped. Maybe he was just getting food. I turned off my podcast, heart racing.

I'd calmed down and almost turned back on my podcast when I heard the gate squeak. He was there. Had Chuy noticed? He had to notice. He had to be wondering if that asshole was going to notice his almost naked wife next to the pool. Had to hear and see that asshole coming into the pool area to stare as his wife. He had to wonder if that fucknob was going to touch himself while looking at his wife.

I felt each of his steps in my pussy. They were getting closer. Chuy had to hear it, too. Arousal consumed me, making me squirm with anticipation. The thought that I should open my eyes, grab my cover up and run for my bike—or even home—passed through my mind, but was shoved aside by my desire for the asshole to watch me.

If he thought I was asleep, would he jerk off watching me? I'd have put money on it. Would Chuy have made the same wager? Was he in the pool house pulling on his cock as this asshole runs his eyes up and down my body? Was Chuy there, ready to come if this asshole unzipped his jeans?

What if Chuy stepped out? Would the asshole even stop? He wouldn't. That thought should have repelled me, but it excited me. Chuy would toss the asshole in the pool or worse if he tried to touch me, but the idea that Chuy was going to let this happen made me press my thighs together.

My sunglasses were dark enough I doubted he could see my eyes if I peaked, but I didn't want to risk it. I wanted to pretend I was asleep, unable to protest as he stared at every part of my body, as he imagined my little tits exposed, as he dreamed of my thong coming down. As my husband watched him watching me and did nothing.

There was a slight breeze and I heard some leaves shift, but otherwise, it was silent. I wanted to hear him touching himself. I wanted to know this asshole couldn't resist taking that pleasure in my body. But if he was touching himself, he was being discrete about it. That asshole was not a discrete person.

Fucking touch yourself, asshole, I thought. When are you ever going to be this close to a young, tight body like this? You'd be tossed out if anyone else was here. Or arrested for being a creep. There might not be laws, exactly, but creeping on sleeping sunbathers was not something that was tolerated.

Maybe he was taking pictures. I almost peeked. I did not want that. Chuy would wave stopped him, though, right?

Was my husband manhandling that massive cock, watching this pathetic social disaster of a man stare at his wife?

I wished I was on my back so I could push my cunt into the chaise. I was so horny.

"You missed a spot."

I hadn't heard his voice before. It was as rough and creviced as his face.

I kept pretending to be asleep. I wanted him to worship my body without any interaction between us at all. I was just porn to him, a body to stare at, not a person to talk to.

"Stop pretending to sleep. Grab that lotion and put it on your tits."

My heart raced as if I were sprinting as I tried to control my breaths so they would give away how alert I was.

He took a step near me and then something hit my belly.

"Go on. Rub that into your tits."

Without moving my head, I glanced towards the pool house, expecting Chuy to rush out and shove this guy into the pool.

"I know you're awake. Give me the show you've been promising, slut."

With the clarity of hindsight, it's painfully obvious the only correct response would have been to threaten him with legal action as I got up and fled. And maybe even had Chuy beat him to a pulp. What jury would convict him after he said all of that?

But hindsight isn't flooded by sex hormones. The twenty-twenty isn't overwhelmed by some fucked up connection in my brain between humiliation and arousal. In the moment, achingly horny, beat red from embarrassment, I opened my eyes and looked at the asshole. He was just as weathered as I remembered him and he was wearing a t-shirt (black of course) with the slogan "Hard Steel Workers Union Local 69" on it, with the obvious graphic in the middle. He wasn't touching himself, although there was definitely a bulge in his jeans.

"God, you're such an asshole. Who taught you manners?" My complaint might have had more impact if I hadn't picked up the bottle and flipped the cap.

He laughed, a sneering, superior laugh without joy. "On your tits. It's only fair I see them after all that teasing you did."

A tiny part of my mind registered what a ridiculous statement that was, and I resisted for a moment, squirting the lotion between my breasts and down my belly. I rubbed around my bikini, teasing him by pushing the edges of the fabric towards my areola, but never exposing them.

Lying down, my tits didn't protrude as much as Chuy's pecs. Based on the asshole's expression, that didn't diminish anything for him. Maybe it was his fetish. Nobody has ever looked at me with so much lust.

"Take those sunglasses off."

My "fuck off," was undermined by my compliance. I slid my sunglasses off, biting an earpiece with a flirty shyness I didn't know was in me. The shyness was real. I felt...well... naked in front of this asshole stranger. Humiliated that I was surrendering to his desires.

"Now show me those tits."

Again, with hindsight a repulsive man ordering you about is not sexy and sign to leave...and get a restraining order. But my brain wasn't anywhere near hindsightlandia, My brain was screaming Do it! Do it! Do anything to get more of these chemicals. The horny brain drugs won a humiliating victory over reason. But so fucking turned on part of my brain, the part that was connecting embarrassment and humiliation to arousal, worried I might come just from touching my nipples. That part of my brain wanted to come for this horrible man.

I suggestively dripped a little drop of lotion on to my nipple, biting my lip and pressing my thighs together.

"More."

I squirted it over both tits and started rubbing it around my nipples, keeping eye contact until I was so close to an orgasm. I closed my eyes and pressed my thighs together to keep myself from going over the edge. Or to get there.

My nipples were already erect, but once I opened my eyes again, calmed down from the edge, I circled around them, spreading the milky white fluid around, letting us both imagine he'd just come on me.

He moaned and unbuckled the absurdly large belt he was wearing. He spread his legs and pulled his jeans down below his butt, pulling his cock from his boxers.

"Look at this beast, slut. I bet your boyfriend's isn't anywhere as big."

This should have been hilarious, but going along with it, letting this asshole believe that his average-sized junk was magnificent, turned me on. I so fucking wanted him to have the horniest time of his entire fucking life. So I nodded. "It's huge."

I don't know what came over me, but then I lifted my left hand and held it so he'd see my wedding band. I wanted this horrible shit to know I was married. That he was ordering around somebody's wife, getting her to show him her tits. Getting her so turned on, she was almost coming just from touching her nipples.

Did Chuy see this? Was he boiling over with anger? We talked about leaving if the asshole arrived, yet there I was, not just staying, not just showing him my tits, but flaunting that I was married, that I was letting a man other than my husband stoke his cock in front of me.

"Fucking whore. I love that. Pull on those hot little nips and tell me how small your little pansy husband is."

In my mind, I did and I kind of believed it, but in reality, I only fulfilled his desire to see me pull on my nipples.

He started pulling on his cock, really going at it as I pulled on my nipples. In my mind, I was telling him what he wanted to hear:

My husband is so much smaller than you, my husband is letting you do this. My husband wants to see this.

.

I came hard just before he did. His come splashed on my belly and splattered all the way up to my sternum. I dipped my finger in it and swirled it around my nipple.

The asshole, like the asshole he was, pulled up his jeans and walked away as I stared, trying to sort out what the fuck had just happened.

He was almost at the gate before he turned back and said, "Good girl."

[Chuy]

I came before the asshole.

Before my wife.

I was hard again, rubbing the huge nut I'd blown up and down my shaft as he stroked himself. Jess's entire chest blushed, a certain sign an orgasm was seconds away.

Before my wife

. The shame of letting this man order my wife to expose herself while I played with myself burned through me and inflamed my dick. I was supposed to protect her, and there I was, getting ready for a second nut.

[Jess]

Post-orgasm, I lied on the chaise in a state of shock. I couldn't believe or understand what I'd just done. That asshole had just...I didn't have a word for it. It wasn't rape, since I'd definitely been willing. But I felt unable to not comply. It was as if the fantasies Chuy and I had been playing with just took over all the sensible part of my brain.

God, I still had his come on me. I hadn't touched another man, hadn't even given more than passing fantasy thought to touching another man in almost five years. Then I came out to the pool with the plan of exposing myself to my husband for a little kinky fun and I end up coming while a fucking asshole stranger shoots his load on me. And then tells me I'm a good girl. Fucking asshole!

"Are you okay?" Chuy says a few minutes later, rushing out to me with a look of genuine concern on his face.