Proving the Bet

This story is based on a real-life experience. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

Those of you who know me know that I am an advocate of safe-sex practices. In this particular situation, however, things didn't quite work out that way. Thankfully, my wife and I haven't had to pay the price. We are doing better now at thinking with our minds rather than our genitals. The element of surprise shaped our decisions in the heat of the moment...

"Proving the Bet: An Awakening"

The salty sea air rushed sideways over my flip-flop-clad toes. The wind was being generated primarily by the forward motion of the ship. From my vantage point on our private balcony, the cobalt blue sky appeared to be dusted with feathery white cirrus clouds. "No hurricane today," I mused. Friends had warned us that August was hurricane season in the Caribbean, but Christine and I decided that a first-time cruise for our 20-year wedding anniversary was worth the risk.

I heard the sliding glass balcony being pushed door open behind my lounge chair, followed by Christine's lilting contralto voice: "Dan, I'm going to soak up a few rays at the pool on deck 9; want to come along?"

Looking up from my Agatha Christie mystery, I replied, "No thanks, babe -- I don't want to burn, and I don't feel like having sunblock slopped all over me right now. I'll stay here in the shade of the balcony for now, maybe catch a few z's."

"Okay, Dan -- I'll pick you up for dinner in an hour or so." As she leaned down to me for a quick kiss, I was again reminded of why I had fallen in love with her so many years ago and remained so today. Her radiant smile provided an accurate clue to her gentle and kind disposition, her piercing eyes speaking of the depth of her intelligence. Her striped rainbow-coloured one-piece bathing suit hugged her curves in all the right places. She still captivated me in body, mind, and spirit.

* * * * *

"These Carnival Cruise folks sure know what they're doing -- Dan doesn't know what he's missing," I thought to myself as I stepped out onto Deck 9. The cruise line had decorated the pool area with several dazzling ice carvings, right here in the middle of the sun-soaked Caribbean! "I wish Dan wouldn't stay cooped up in the cabin so much. It's a glorious day, and so many beautiful sights."

As I strolled toward the chaise lounges and picked up a towel from the supply table, I surveyed the rows of mostly female, mostly bikini-clad sunbathers stretched out around the pool. Noticing their lean physiques and supple contours, I couldn't help giggling to myself, "The beautiful sights include more than Carnival's efforts. Maybe I should be glad Dan stayed behind. The competition looks fierce!"

I put my Harlequin romance on the ground next to the chair I had chosen. I sat down to lather up with sunscreen. As I rubbed it into my arms and legs, I began to wish that Dan were here to help me reach the exposed portion of my back. A sunburn was the last thing I needed to spoil my vacation!

"Let me help you with that," chirped the woman a couple of chairs beside me. I had deliberately left an empty lounge chair on each side of me to increase privacy, but now I was glad for the invasion of my space. As she stood to come over to me, I was dumbstruck by her proportions -- at least six feet tall, with body-builder type muscles, pretty but not stunning facial features, framed by a mane of cascading blonde locks tumbling out in every direction.

As she drew near and raised her sunglasses for a better view on her task, I saw that her eyes were steely blue and radiated unusual intelligence. She caught my stare from the corner of her glance, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. My god, the woman looked like an Amazon as she towered over me!

"I'm Deborah," she stated in a friendly British accent, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen. "I'm Christine," I replied self-consciously, offering my hand in introduction. She shook my hand with her left hand, having already grabbed the sunscreen with her right. "Thanks for helping me out," I said as I turned my back to allow her access for the task at hand.

"No problem, love," Deborah replied, "husbands are never around when you need them. Yours back at the cabin?"

I nodded in reply as I held my hair away from my back for her to do her work. "Mine's the same -- probably playing video games. Like he needs to go on a cruise to do that," she pouted.

The cool slickness of the sunscreen on my back made me flinch. "You okay?" she asked.

"Fine -- just a little cold in contrast to the warm air," I replied. The truth was, I was still reacting to the sheer power exuded by this near-masculine but very feminine blonde. The coolness on my back was making my front react. I looked down and saw the buds of my nipples protruding against my swimsuit.

Deborah began to rub the lotion into the skin just below my shoulder blades. "Ooh, you're tense," she purred, "relax and enjoy!" I caught a tone of playfulness in her voice. "Is this your first time, love?" she queried.

"First time for what?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. "First time on a cruise, you silly girl!" said Deborah, "what did you think I meant?"

"I -- I don't know," I managed to mumble. In my mind, a small voice was saying, "First time to be mauled by an Amazon? Yes." Instead, I turned my head slightly toward her to say, "But yes, it's our first time."

Then, noting her work on my back, I said, "Thanks -- do you have it covered?"

"Almost -- but I can work out the tenseness as well as preventing sunburn. That is, if you'd like," she said with a grin. She had a teasing, almost mocking tone in her voice. Her fingers were no longer simply rubbing, but rather massaging and kneading the muscles in my shoulders, the exposed portion of my torso, all the way down to my lower back.

"Thanks, but I don't want to fall asleep -- just soak up a few rays while I read my book."

"Oh, one of those," she said as she looked down at my book, "always good for a few sex scenes, but the 'heroine' always seems too passive for my taste."

"I like a little mindless trash," I replied honestly, "especially when I'm on vacation."

"That so?" she said with an impish grin, "is that restricted to books?"

I'm sure my face turned three shades of red, and it had nothing to do with sunburn. She could see that I was uncomfortable in replying, and saved me from further embarrassment. "No matter," she said, "are you sure you don't want a nice back rub?"

"No thanks, I'll take a raincheck," I said without thinking.

"I'll hold you to that!" she replied with a coy smile, and then turned and sauntered back to her lounge chair. I watched, mesmerized. Was she wiggling her ass? Was that for me? My god, what am I thinking?

* * * * *

I was stepping out of the shower when Christine returned to the room. "You okay, hon?" I asked when I saw the perplexed look on her face. "Yeah, just worried we'll be late for our dinner seating," she said. "Damn, I meant to be back in time for a shower."

We dressed quickly in our fairly formal attire: I in my Matlock look-alike cream-coloured suit and Christine in a black evening dress with spaghetti straps that revealed her lovely shoulders. "Glad you didn't get sunburned," I quipped as my gaze drifted along her bare shoulders and arms.

We headed out the cabin door and turned down the corridor toward the elevator lobby. "Yeah, well, I had a little help putting the sunscreen on," she replied quietly.

"What -- some young stud trying to steal my lovely wife away?" I said with a playful grin. "I knew I should have gone with you."

"Not exactly," she said, "more like a she-devil trying to mess with my mind."

"Ooh, that sounds -- intriguing," I said in a tone of mock danger.

"Come on, Dan -- I'm serious," she replied with an elbow to my rib cage. As we stepped into the elevator, an elderly couple joined us for the ride. Christine put a finger to her lips to quell further conversation on the topic while we were being overheard.

We allowed the older couple to precede us out of the elevator and into the dining room. The exquisite surroundings smacked of royalty. Carnival had indeed done well. "Perkins, seating for two. Yes, sir -- table 29," said the host in somewhat broken English. I had spoken with several of the staff on board, and had come to learn that most of them were from either Indonesia or the Philippines. My heart went out to those with families left behind, often not seeing them for six months or a year at a time.

As we sat down at our table, Christine re-introduced the subject, "Seriously, Dan -- this woman who helped me with my sunscreen..."

"Yes, my pet?" I raised my eyebrows and gave Christine a comical, overdone leer.

"Would you stop that! I'm trying to tell you something and you're making fun of me!"

Properly chastised, I lowered my eyes and wiped the smirk off my face. "Sorry, babe, what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"This woman -- Deborah was her name. She helped me sunscreen my back where I couldn't reach it. She was, like, six feet tall -- or more! And she made comments that were -- inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?"

"Sexual."

"What?"

"Like she was coming on to me."

"Did she actually hit on you?"

"No. It was innuendo. But it was obvious -- at least I think so."

"So what did you do?"

"Nothing. I sort of made a fool of myself and essentially asked her to go away."

"So that was that?"

"Not exactly. She somehow made me feel like she's going to be looking for me again. Like an idiot, I made some comment about taking a raincheck."

We were momentarily interrupted as the waiter came to tell us the options we had for each course of the meal. Having taken our selections, he poured us each a glass of water and left us a basket of dinner rolls. As I began to butter my bread, I asked Christine, "So what do you think?"

"About what?" She shook her head as if returning from her reverie.

"About Deborah," I replied.

"She scares me -- and...."

"And what?"

"Truth?"

"Truth," I replied.

"And -- excites me," admitted Christine.

I felt a stir in my trousers. Okay, I admit it -- I've often fantasized about seeing my wife go down on another woman, and another woman going down on her.

"So what are you going to do about it?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, "absolutely nothing."

My quickly growing erection halted in its tracks. "Oh -- I see," I said, disheartened.

* * * * *

I could see that Dan was deflated. I wanted to be able to share my feelings with him, but I wasn't even sure what they were. Had I actually enjoyed watching Deborah wiggle her ass? Had I actually hoped that she was doing it for my benefit?

"Why? What would you want me to do about it?" I queried.

"Oh, I don't know -- but I don't think you should avoid her. This is a VACATION! Time away from the kids. Time away to enjoy life and have a good time!"

"I don't consider having my mind messed with 'a good time'," I said.

"Maybe you're feeling that internal tension because it's something that needs to get resolved," replied Dan.

I always hated that. And I always loved that. Dan and his fount of wisdom -- often so bang-on right. "Yeah, maybe," I sputtered.

"You'll look for her at the pool tomorrow?" Dan was pushing the issue.

"Yeah -- okay."

"Good -- that's settled."

As we chatted through dinner, my mind began to wander. I began to vividly recall Deborah's ripped muscles, her lean frame, her skimpy cobalt-blue bikini that matched the sky. "Damn -- what's her hold over me?" I thought, almost angry that I couldn't get her out of my mind. My thoughts lingered on the swell of her ample breasts, the protruding nipples against the sheer fabric of her swimsuit, the wisp of pubic hair that had escaped the edge of her swimsuit bottom. "I don't remember seeing all that," I thought, but then realized that I had indeed observed more than I was willing to process at the time.

God -- happily married for 20 years, and now I was turning into a lesbian? I was genuinely wrestling with inner turmoil. I hoped Dan couldn't read on my face what was going on in my mind. The last thing on earth I'd want to do is hurt him.

* * * * *

"How about going to the karaoke bar tonight?" I asked Christine as we polished off the last remnant of dessert. We had shared my pecan pie and her Baked Alaska, and now I figured I'd be on enough of a sugar high to stay up late.

"Yeah, okay -- that sounds great!" smiled Christine. It was the first time throughout dinner that she had flashed one of her genuine light-up-the-room smiles.

We went back to the room to change into more casual clothes. As we strolled down the hallway holding hands, I couldn't help but drink in the sway of Christine's hips. By the time we entered the cabin, my lower extremities were experiencing an inordinate blood flow. As Christine stepped out of her dress, I lowered my pants to expose my swollen member. Christine's eyes widened.

"What's got you so excited?" she asked.

"Maybe it's knowing you have unresolved sexual tension," I answered honestly.

"You're obviously the one with the unresolved sexual tension," she chortled as she grasped my now fully erect cock. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"I thought I might have another dessert before karaoke," I requested, "perhaps some cream pie."

"I think we could manage that," replied Christine, the lust beginning to shine in her eyes.

I slipped the straps of her bra from both shoulders. "They're a bit pink," I said as I trailed kisses down her shoulders. "Mmm-hhh," she murmured, "often takes a few hours to show up. Can't stop all the rays with sunscreen."

As my kisses made their way back to her neck, I reached around and unclasped her bra at the back. As I peeled the fabric away from her breasts, I was reminded of the first time that I had seen them -- shortly after our engagement 21 years earlier. No longer quite as perky, they were still a wonderful sight to behold.

Christine's excitement was evident in the flinching of her muscles as I trailed kisses ever nearer to her delectable creamy-white globes. Moving my hands up and down her naked back, I suddenly buried my nose in her cleavage. The aroma of sunscreen still permeated her skin, as she'd had no opportunity to shower before dinner.

* * * * *

"Why is Dan taking so long to get down to business?" I thought. I needed so badly for him to just take my nipple in his mouth, but here he was rubbing my back and pressing his nose in between my tits.

I closed my eyes. The backrub was taking me back to Deborah's ministrations earlier in the afternoon. God, she had known how to get me excited just by a touch. I was feeling a familiar warm tingling spreading through my pubic mound. My panties were most assuredly getting wet. I needed Dan to take them off me.

"Babe, you look delicious," Dan said, breaking the silence. I opened my eyes and saw him looking up from between my breasts. "The big lug," I thought, "how can I be thinking of a woman -- a stranger at that -- when I've got a guy like him?"

"Take your shirt off," I told him. He sat up and obeyed. "Now take my panties off me," I ordered, suddenly feeling assertive. He flashed a quizzical glance at me, then reached for the hem of my panties and pulled them down. "Now suck my tits," I said, feeling bolder. The wait had been too long. As soon as he began suckling my nipple, a flood of moisture released from the depths of my pussy.

After we eased onto the bed, I felt his fingers beginning to slide between my labia. "Not your fingers," I said, pushing back from him, "I want your dick." Normally I needed to get lubed up and have my vaginal skin stretched slowly and carefully to avoid chafing, but I was feeling brazen and slutty. I was certain I could take Dan's cock inside me with no further adieu.

* * * * *

"What's gotten into you?" I asked as Christine positioned my raging hard-on between her pussy lips and rubbed my cock head along the perimeter of her slit. As she raised her hips and pulled my shaft inside her, she quipped, "Apparently, you are -- into me!" I felt a surge in my cock, and began thrusting my hips in rhythm with her pelvic thrusts. I always have loved it when she talks dirty, but I wasn't used to her taking control like this.

As we fucked harder and faster than I could ever remember, I saw a look of pure wanton lust on Christine's face. I put my hands on her ass cheeks -- man, this was hot, feeling her bucking wildly, having her thrusting so hard into me!

Within minutes, I could hold back no longer. "Can you cum?" I asked her. "Unn-hunhh," she moaned. "Fuck me, baby -- fuck me so good!" The rush of semen from my testicles was overwhelming. I spurted my load and felt her pussy clenching around my rod. "Oooh, baby," she squealed, "you're so-o-o good!"

I collapsed on top of her. I felt her pussy twitching around my now-softening cock. "I want you to eat your cream pie now," she said. Her assertive tone had returned, and I was experiencing a thrill as I dismounted and turned to stare into her gaping cunt...

* * * * *

Dan had filled me up and made me cum. He was still a stud after 20 years. I had felt like a shameless hussy as I ordered him to perform at my command. Now, as his tongue laved my vaginal folds and found my clit, my mind returned to images of Deborah by the pool. I imagined that it was her tongue slipping inside my pussy, licking Dan's semen from my depths.

I could see in my mind's eye her turning her twat to me in a sixty-nine position. I imagined her blonde pubic hair framing her Amazon nether folds. My musky scent from my fresh fucking with Dan became her scent in my nostrils. As Dan's tonguing brought me near another climax, I longed to taste Deborah's pussy. Fuck, what am I thinking? What's wrong with me?

The thoughts wouldn't go away. Visions of eating her out while she ate me out were enhanced by the actual licking and sucking that Dan was providing to me. God, I hated that woman and what she was doing to my mind. I felt a flood of my own juices as Dan took me over the edge to another orgasm...

* * * * *

"What are you going to sing tonight?" I asked Christine as we left the cabin. "Oh, I don't know -- maybe a little Shania, 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman,'" she responded, "what about you?"

"I was thinking of some Billy Joel -- maybe 'She's Always a Woman'."

"I hate it when you sing that. You do a great job with it, but I always feel like people are looking at me and thinking, 'What a bitch she must be!'"

"Sorry, I'll find something else," I offered.

"You won't have any trouble doing that, as long as they have a decent selection. You've got a great range in your repertoire."

"Thanks, babe," I replied. I was always pleased when she stroked my ego. I was especially vulnerable when it came to public performances. I liked knowing that Christine enjoyed my singing.

As we entered the karaoke bar, I looked around for an empty table that would have a good vantage point to the stage. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman waving in our direction. Suddenly she stood and sauntered toward us.

She was a goddess if ever I'd seen one. Standing eye-to-eye with me at 6'2" as she reached us, I couldn't help but notice her sturdy biceps, which were highlighted by her black sleeveless top. Adorned by shimmering crystal earrings and a matching necklace, her face was classic rather than exotic -- deep blue eyes, perky nose, full lips enhanced by a glossy pink lipstick, small nibble-able ears. Her slender but taut frame was evident from the fit of her black top and black skirt. The black outfit contrasted perfectly with her golden blonde hair, which fell loosely in a Farrah Fawcett type hairstyle. The skirt bared her near-masculine calf muscles. The woman was obviously a fitness buff.