MY problem, when I really considered it, was not Tony. Obviously, I would need his support, permission, encouragement - call it what you will. But the backing of my husband wouldn't be needed if I couldn't find a giant cock. I mean, how do you go about such a quest?
It's one thing to walk into an adult store and buy a huge black dildo - like Tony had done - but where do you get the real thing, the human model? They're not sitting on shelves waiting for some horny 35 year old to come along and take them home to satisfy her curiosity and fantasy.
Okay, I've read stories and supposedly true-life tales about people successfully seeking all manner of things via chat-rooms and contact sites on the internet. But, truthfully, what are the chances of that bearing fruit? There must be someone out there to meet my requirements but the possibility he'll live anywhere near me must be remote. And, anyway, did I want to go down that world wide web route, scanning pages and becoming a member by entering personal contact details? Not really.
So, what else could I do? I bought a contact magazine but there was nothing in there for me and I quickly consigned it to the garbage bin. It was frustrating but, after a couple of days, I suddenly thought: "C'mon Jen, you're not that desperate. You've got a loving husband and a sex life that's been satisfying for over 12 years. And there's always Marcus the Dildo available if the big cock craving persists. Get on with your life, you silly woman."
I didn't mention anything to Tony. Instead, I ensured that he knew that I was still more than happy with the way he pleasured me. We continued to have some great love-ins, at least four times a week, and Marcus wasn't required.
We did occasionally watch DVDs featuring big black cocks and, after one screening, Tony removed his hand from my crotch, licked a finger, and said: "Wow, that really got you wet."β¨I grinned and said: "That's what it's supposed to do. Why watch porn if you're not gonna be excited? And look at you . . ."
Tony's cock was hard in my hand and seeping pre-cum. "Ah, point taken," he said.
"Not yet it isn't," I said, bending to lick his swelling dome and then sucking three or four inches into my mouth. With one hand caressing his shaft, the other fondling his balls and my head bobbing rhythmically, it wasn't long before Tony unloaded into my throat. As he subsided, I sat back up, wiped my lips with the back of my hand and said: "Now the point's been taken."
I sat on the balcony of our rented apartment, chilled glass of white wine on the table, and peacefully watched the wonderful sunset develop, the pale blue sky being streaked in glorious shades of orange and red. Tony was in the shower, washing off the sun lotion after our first day of seven on the naturist beach. I'd been first in the bathroom and was now dressed in a sleeveless white blouse and knee-length shorts, ready to go out for dinner.
Admiring the view, my reverie was disturbed by the noise of a sliding door on the adjoining balcony and the clack of heels on concrete. I reached for my wine and turned my head to sneak a look at our neighbour.
"Isn't that a lovely view," she said in a low, husky voice. A moments silence was broken when she said: "Sorry, didn't mean to be rude or disturb you."
I stopped sipping the wine and said: "Oh no, not at all. I didn't think you were talking to me." I looked past her and discovered she didn't have company. "But, yes, you're right, it is a beautiful view."
"Yes," she almost whispered and took a deep breath, shoulders back and chest rising. Quite a chest it was, too, and I guessed she was without a bra under her loose fitting floral dress. In the fading light, she seemed to have caramel-coloured skin and her dark hair was tight to her head. "Have you been here long?"
"No, we arrived yesterday evening. But we've been here before, I mean my husband Tony and me. He's in the shower at the moment. What about you? How long have you been here."
" Minutes, just minutes," she said, looked at me, and then extended her right arm across the waist-high wrought-iron fencing which divided the two apartment balconies. "I'm Gaynor, pleased to meet you."
I rose out of my chair and took her hand. It was cool, soft and the nails were painted a deep red which contrasted with her skin tone. Gaynor was also some five or six inches taller than me in her heels. "Pleased to meet you," I said looking up at her. "I'm Jennifer, but everybody calls me Jen." I paused. "You're not here alone, are you?"
"Oh no," she said with a shake of her head which set her big looped ear-rings in motion. "My friend is sorting out luggage back at the airport. There's been a mix-up but I've got my case and there's no point both of us hanging about out there. So, I came along to book in and . . . "
The "William Tell Overture" rang out, stopping Gaynor in mid-flow and she reached for her mobile phone, the screen glowing on the table. "Hi, what's happening?" She listened for a few seconds and then said: "Good, I'll see you in about half-an-hour then. Byeee . . . "
Turning back to me, Gaynor revealed bright white teeth as she smiled. "Sorry about that. But the luggage problem has been resolved, thankfully."
I nodded. "Well that's good. Nothing worse than losing your stuff at the beginning of a holiday. Wouldn't matter so much at the other end."
"Yes, guess you're right about that." Gaynor still held the phone in her hand when it started to ring out again. She looked at the screen and muttered: "Bother." She glanced at me and said: "Sorry, I've got to take this. Been nice talking to you."
"And nice talking to you," I answered as she turned away and went into her apartment.
Over our dinner of tuna steaks and mixed salad, I told Tony about meeting one of our neighbours and the missing luggaage.
"What's she like?"
"She seemed nice enough in the brief time I spoke to her."
"I mean, what does she look like?"
"Oh, sorry. Well, she's taller than me, quite a bit taller actually, although she was wearing heels. She's got tight-cropped dark hair, but I couldn't really see her figure. She was wearing a loose dress but her bosom seemed big. And she is a sort of light chocolate-colour."
I forked a tomato slice into my mouth and reached for my glass. As I sipped it, I heard a husky voice. "Hello again."
"Hello Gaynor," I said, looking up as she arrived at our table. She had changed clothes and was now dressed in tight-fitting beige jeans and a patterned shirt which was bow-tied under her ample chest, revealing a toned midriff and a ruby jewel in her navel. "You've come to a good spot to eat, especially if you like fish."
"Ah yes, I never got the chance to tell you, did I? We've been here many times, so I know all about the local restaurants and bars."
"Right," I said, aware of Tony glancing between me and Gaynor. "Oh, by the way, this is my husband, Tony."
He stood up, all 5ft 10ins of him and they were virtually of equal height. Gaynor took his proffered hand, shook it lightly and leaned to air-kiss his cheek. "Nice to meet you," she said in a low voice. "My friend's gone to the toilet. Anyway, I'll not interrupt you any more, just thought I'd say hello. I'm famished. My table's over there," and she nodded towards the back of the room, once again setting the gold hooped ear-rings swinging.β¨She strode away and I looked at Tony's eyes following her progress between the tables.
"Good view, is it?"
"What?" said Tony and then added "Oh!" as he realised that I had watched him staring at Gaynor's departure. "Yes, quite interesting," he smiled. "She's quite slender but her hips sway in those jeans. Nice bum."
"And the tits?"
"Ah," he said looking into my eyes, "you were right, they are quite big. When she did that air-kiss thing I could see down her shirt."