He moved in slowly, inching closer to my wife and me as we sat in the ship's English pub, listening to music. We were still dressed in our formal dinner attire. Nikki wore a form-fitting little black dress with a deep neckline that clung to her body like a second skin, and I was in a charcoal grey suit with a red power tie. Her admirer, however, had changed into shorts and a tight, white T-shirt that accentuated his muscular build. I had noticed him at the pool earlier that afternoon. As a tall, muscular Black man wearing a red Speedo, he was hard to miss, and I had caught him looking at my bikini-clad wife several times. That was something I'd gotten used to in recent years--and it always amused me.
Nikki and I had married young, and we had been together for more than 30 years. She had been a petite, 110-pound blonde with perky B-cup breasts and a fantastic ass when we first met, but over the years, two difficult pregnancies and a sedentary lifestyle had conspired to pack more than 70 pounds onto her small 5'4" frame. She was still sexy as a chubby middle-aged woman, and I liked her big D-cup boobs, but she hated her body and dressed to hide it rather than show it off. Then, shortly after her 50th birthday, she decided to make a change. She started dieting and exercising regularly, and the weight came off. She got down to a still-curvy 130 pounds, and at her new weight, she began to feel sexy again. She bought a new wardrobe and dressed to show off her new C-cup breasts and tight, bubble butt. She wore low-cut shirts and blouses. She had a closet filled with tight jeans, short skirts, and little cocktail dresses, and she always looked great when she left the house. It was an amazing transformation.
Nikki loved the attention she got when she dressed sexy, and it sparked a noticeable change in her demeanor. She had been something of a wild child when we first met, but after becoming a mom and gaining weight, she had become shy and reserved. But suddenly, in her fifties, she came back out of her shell. She began to flirt with other men, and her libido increased exponentially. There had been many nights when we would be out at a bar, winery, or brewery and Nikki would flirt with men half her age--and when we got back to our house, she would be utterly ravenous. As such, rather than feel threatened or annoyed when my wife flirted with other men, I encouraged it--because I knew I would reap the benefits later. And so did she.
"I'll be right back, I need to pee," I told my wife, touching her hand and smiling.
"Okay, baby, can you get me another beer while you're up?"
I said that I would and walked off to the closest bathroom. It was our third day on the ship, and each night we'd closed out our evening listening to the acoustic guitar and folksy sound of the ship's musical talent at the English Pub. It had been a great way to wind down from a day of cruising--and it had preceded some raucous sex on both prior nights.
A smile spread across my face several minutes later when I sidled up to the bar to get a new round of drinks for Nikki and me--and I noticed that my wife was not sitting alone. Across from her was the aforementioned muscular Black man, and I must admit that I was somewhat surprised. Until then, Nikki had never shown interest in Black guys. She and I had grown up in a largely homogeneous town south of Boston, and she had long professed that Black men "did nothing" for her. She wasn't a racist--far from it. Nikki was much more progressive than I, and she didn't have a racist bone in her body--but she'd always had a type, and it was not big, muscular Black men. She tended to gravitate toward clean-cut frat boys with fit, slender builds. Yet there she was, engaged in what looked like a somewhat flirtatious conversation with a man with skin as dark as night, broad shoulders, and bulging biceps.
I waited patiently for our drinks and watched my wife's body language intently. Her warm smiles, the subtle touching of her face, and the way she brushed her long hair from her brow told an unmistakable story. I felt my pulse quicken, knowing that I would soon reap the benefit of her flirting with him. Then I walked confidently to our table.
Nikki introduced me to Trevor when I came back with her drink, and for the next 90 minutes, we all got to know each other. Trevor lived outside of Baltimore but was originally from Nigeria. He was on the cruise with his family, but having recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend, he was the only one among them traveling alone. Nikki continued to bat her eyes and laugh at his jokes, and I felt the familiar tingling in my groin as I watched her. She seemed more tactile than usual--touching his hand for emphasis when she spoke and even commenting on how silky smooth his skin was.
When the bar closed, we exchanged pleasantries and parted ways--but not before we made plans to meet again at the pool the following morning. We knew we'd have to get there early to secure a spot, since day four of the cruise was a day at sea. But given my penchant for rising early, that wouldn't be a problem. Then Nikki and I walked hand-in-hand back to our room. Once inside our outside balcony stateroom, I tossed my suit coat on the back of the desk chair and took off my tie. Nikki pressed her warm, supple body against me and kissed me deeply. Our tongues entwined, and I lifted her dress over her head to reveal her needy body to my hungry eyes. Her nipples were taut and her chest was flushed. I pinched them lightly and Nikki moaned, deep and low. Her pretty amber eyes closed, and she inhaled sharply as I slipped a hand into her red silk thong and grinned.
"You're so wet," I mused, and my wife nodded.
"I'm soaked, baby," she purred softly.
"Is that from me or Trevor?" I teased, and she grinned.
"A little of both," she answered playfully. Her hands clutched at my lats to steady herself and she shuddered as my knowing fingers located her hard, pulsating clit. She looked deep into my eyes and begged me to make her cum. My fingers moved faster and faster, rubbing her clit until her body began to tremble.
Nikki cried out as she came, and then I laid her back on the bed. She lifted her butt off the mattress, and I slipped her panties down her thick yet shapely legs. Then I crawled, fully clothed, onto the bed and lowered my mouth to her succulent pussy. Her juices were flowing like a river and I slurped them from her depths. I eased two fingers inside her and located her G-spot. Then I sucked gently on the hood of her clit and flicked my tongue across it until she came hard.
I slithered up her smooth, sexy body, planting butterfly kisses on my way. I paid special attention to her sensitive nipples as she recovered from the ferocity of her orgasm. Then I laid beside her and kissed her passionately, letting her taste herself on my lips and smell her juices on my beard.
