I look at the allegedly straight tourist, his cheek sticky and shiny where he wiped off my excess cum before licking it off his fingers, and ask, "Your wife ever let you fuck her ass?"
The more rulebound amongst us might consider it a breach of etiquette to not address him by name, but my ostensibly reprehensible behavior might be excused because we didn't quite get around to exchanging names before the ... festivities ... unexpectedly escalated. And by "festivities" I mean, "he only wanted to touch my cock, and I just wanted a blowjob, and we compromised on me shooting so much cum in his mouth that he couldn't swallow it all."
Or, if you want it described from a more feminine perspective, "He had marital difficulties from his failure to empathize with his wife's perspective on what constitutes romance and seduction. And so we used role playing so he could experience first hand his wife's POV when orally pleasing the man she loved, but felt emotionally estranged from."
And yes, that sounds like a completely bullshit rationalization of him cheating on her, but it's actually a reasonably accurate portrayal of recent events, albeit missing some of the more graphic and physical aspects of his emotional education.
But I digress. Take two. Interior, mid-range hotel room in Waikiki, laying on the bed, me naked below the waist, him wearing a moderately loud Hawaiian shirt and black Calvin Klein underwear. Scene!
I imagine the clack of that clipboard they show in movie outtakes, even though it's real life and I'm this nerdy hot smart guy whose head just won't shut the fuck up with the interior monologue already:
"Your wife ever let you fuck her ass?"
He looks at me with his green eyes, with golden flecks in his irises that match the sunlight reflecting off the tiny blond hairs on his muscular but lean forearms. He languidly says with a hint of a Southern drawl, "I'm not gonna let you fuck my ass. That's going too far."
I feel my penis stiffen a bit when he says, "fuck my ass". My dick only understands strong action words.
He stares at that stiffening, his eyes narrowing.
"No, I mean literally. Have you ever fucked her ass?"
"Yeah, once."
"Why only once."
"She said it hurt too much. Says I'm too rough."
"What did you do, just try to jam it in?"
"Well ... sorta. Maybe. I was excited. I was fucking her doggy, and when I switched holes she started making these squeaky porn noises, like she was into it. Then she did that thing where she was butthurt for like a week afterwards because I didn't read her mind. She coulda said 'no'. Just one word. Instead I get a whole week of 'we need to talk' and 'why don't you listen to my needs?' "
"Soo ... did you?"
"What?"
"Did. You. Listen ... to her needs?"
He just stares at me, like I'm trying to explain particle physics to a Corgi.
"Porn ain't real life," I say. "Porn is usually written by guys who are, like, emotionally stunted. Women need to feel special, not like some Stepford Wives fuck doll that has to say yes to your every perverted whim."
He sighs. "I know. I just don't know what the fuck she wants sometimes. Do you and your wife get each other?"
"Mostly. If she starts making unhappy noises because I did something stupid or clueless, I make her laugh."
"I wish I could do that with my wife. We argue a lot about pointless shit."
"You just gotta get inside her head, understand what she's feeling. Tell you what, let's role play again. You're her, OK? And I'm you, but ... you know ..." I wave my hand vaguely, to indicate a massive increase in having game and good objection management skills.
He gives me this wary look. "No anal. Promise?"
"I promise I won't stick it in you."
He nods. "K."
"OK, lay on your stomach, head on the pillow. Having a romantic evening, wined and dined, I gave you a thoughtful card with hearts and shit on it ... you're all wet and receptive."
"Mm-hmm," my faux wife mutters into the pillow, 'her' eyes closed.
I straddle her legs, my semi-erect cock nestled between her muscular upper thighs. I massage her back through the Hawaiian shirt while she sighs softly. I lean down and kiss her neck and then an earlobe. I whisper in my best deep bedroom voice, "Hey, beautiful. You're such a sexy wife."
"Mmm. Feels so good. Rub my back some more."
I slip my hand under her shirt, do her lower back and sides, mostly rubbing but sliding my nails along her skin at unpredictable intervals.
"Hey. That tickles."
"More?"
"Yeah."
I tease my way to her shoulder blades, massaging them deeply, then lean forward and lay on top of her while my hands slide and massage down her outstretched arms, all the way to her fingertips. I'm rubbing her palms and she's squirming a bit with pleasure, my weight fully on her, my cock fully erect and poking at her underwear, pushing at the cleft of her buns.
She turns her head sideways to look me in the eyes. "Hey."
"Hmmm?"
"Don't get any ideas, buster."
"Can I help it if my wife's sexy body gets me hard?" I murmur into her ear, planting soft kisses along the outside of the lobe.
"You know what happened last time you did this."
"I won't do ... that. I promise." I start kneading back up her arms, easing my weight off her in the process, but my cock pressing harder against her butt.
"Hey! You have a funny way of proving that."
I sit up so I'm straddling her upper thighs again. "Is it OK to rub it against your pussy, baby?"
"Just there. Not ... you know."
"OK. Can I take your panties off?" I say, already tugging them part way down her firm buns.
She reaches back and lightly slaps my tugging hands. "You gotta do exactly what I say, be a good husband."
"You're the boss," I whisper. "Can I slide your panties off and rub your pussy, baby? It'll feel so good."
"Since you ask nicely."
I slide down her legs and off the bed, standing up. I lean over and place light pressure on the elastic waist of her panties with one hand, not quite tugging, waiting for permission. My other hand oh so quietly unsnaps the lid of the tube of lube on the night stand beside the bed.
She arches her butt up a bit while keeping her legs pressed together, giving me her assent.
I lean over and put my other hand on the waistline of the panties and start slowly pulling them down over her butt, kissing both sides and every bit of the skin as it becomes exposed. I feel her butt quiver, and she gives a soft sigh as I keep kissing and pulling her panties down her legs, a trail of kisses marking the route, until they slide past the tips of her toes and I drop them on the floor.
She's looking over her shoulder at me again. "Does my ... husband ... like the view?" She says 'husband' tentatively, like she's a bit apprehensive about submerging herself in her role and being so submissive, even though she's actually in control.
"God, yes. You've got a sexy butt. Can I rub a bit of lube between your thighs, baby?"
She narrows her eyes. "I thought we ..."
"No, no. Not that. Trust me."
She gives me a 'Hmm, Does He Really Mean That' look.
I raise my eyebrows, give her my most sincere gaze. "I promised. Do you trust me?"
"OK, baby. I trust you." It's the kind of trust where she keeps watching, apparently.
I rub some lube between her upper thighs and into the cleft, then pause. "Can I rub some on your clit, sexy?"
She looks puzzled, processing what I mean by that.
"Please, can I touch it?" I slide a well lubed hand deeper into her cleft, until my wrist is between her slightly parted thighs, my palm cupping her 'labia', and my index finger is lightly touching the base of her hardening shaft.
"Oh. That. Yes ... yes, please."
I start trailing my finger up her big 'clit', until the tip of my index finger is rubbing the sensitive underside of the head, and my palm and other fingers are clasping and gently squeezing her by now rigid shaft.
She groans and turns her face toward the pillow, no longer needing to watch me now that my intent is clear. Her hips are quivering and bucking up at me as I massage her crotch.
"Oh, fuck," she says. "Slow down, baby. I don't want to cum yet."
I tease her by slowing down but still stroking, dragging her close the edge of an orgasm, edging her.
"No, stop rubbing. Not yet. Please."
My hand freezes. I can feel the shaft pulsing a bit as she struggles to maintain control, keep from going over the edge. I start sliding my hand out of the cleft of her thighs, then my slippery thumb slides oh so carefully to the patch of skin between her 'labia' and her hole, rubbing.
"You promised," she says. "You promised you wouldn't fuck me there."
"I just want to touch it. I promise I won't go inside. It'll feel so good."
She thinks it over. "OK. Touch me."
