A gust of wind relieved the heat of the midday sun, then it extinguished and I waited. The murmur of the sea numbed my senses, I let myself go. I could fall easily asleep but I couldn't. I heard voices passing by, the laughter of children. It was hard not to stare when eye-catching men and women walked by. If someone smiled at me, I would smile back. The warm Caribbean breeze caressed my body. My almost naked body. My bikini was only an arrangement of three small triangles of pink cloth held together by gold chain.
We had heard about Roque coves when we were in Santo Domingo a few years ago. There was a little frequented one, next to Playa TÃo Juan. Surely it wasn't as idyllic as we imagined but we decided visit it.
We arrived in a small, rented car, very early, we even thought we had gone to the wrong place because there were no other cars on the parking esplanade. Just a couple of bars and a complicated access descending from the top of the cliff. We found, lying on the ground, the sign that indicated the route. The descent was less complicated than it seemed. The view was incredible, a small virgin beach full of erect rocks from ancient landslides. We chose a nice place and by the time we had spread out the towels other people were already arriving.
"Stay here and sunbathe if you want, honey. I'm going to take a bath..., I'm roasting".
Paul got up and headed towards the shore. I lay there letting my body tan. We had just arrived at Dominican Republic and my pale skin gave it away. I was watching my husband dive into the water when a black man approached. His steps were slow, calculated as water cascaded down the swells of his dark shoulders, his broad and chiselled chest, his washboard abs, in obscene rivulets. Seeking my attention. He knew he had succeeded and finally stopped in front of me. My head craned up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly in anticipation.
One of his hands went down to the curve of his buttocks where the tight fabric of his swimming trunks had stuck to his skin. I quirked a brow at his brazen act. The black man had to know he was attractive... He was in his forties but his athletic physique revealed that he took care of himself. I instantly regretted looking at him, as he noticed and stood in front of me.
"Nice bikini." He said, taking off his sunglasses, and a mischievous gaze appeared. I smiled pleased at the boldness of his statement. I had never met a guy as primeval, dominant and self confident. He was looking at me so blatantly that I didn't know what to respond... "Although you'd admit that, with the gorgeous body you have, you would look much better in topless."
"As you say?" I murmured, caught off-guard, and I made the mistake of looking up. His body was magnificent --not overly muscular, but perfectly shaped, dusky black, purely African. And the cock, revealed under the wet swingwear, was arresting, out of proportion. Its shape was becoming more defined and I tried looking away, but it caught all my attention. I was stunned.
"I mean, your tits seem round and firm under the fabric. But if you don't take off the top of the bikini, we won't know." He cackled.
I cleared my throat, snapping out of the trance. His eyes were busy raking over my form. The fabric was wet enough to show some of me.
"I'm not a topless fan, you know? I'd feel uncomfortable showing my breasts in public." I said, but my docile attitude obviously encouraged him. The truth is I wasn't thinking much about what I was doing. Why the hell did I try to justify myself instead of saying "fuck off"? What the hell did he care if I was topless or not? But, among all the questions that came to my mind, there was the most uncomfortable: why I was so excited?
"Have you ever been in topless?"
"No, I've never done it. Well... I have nice tits, but people don't need to see them, right?" I said, somewhat defiantly.
Usually, eyes that wander my body don't bother me in the slightest. Although flattering, they usually only receive a scowl from me. But for some reason, heat was rising, tickling all my body as I standed there, like a Venus statue, allowing him to peer his gaze at my body.
"True," he answered, still smiling. But surely when you put on makeup, you try to highlight your green eyes, am I wrong?" I nodded. "You have beautiful eyes and you like us to see them. You love feeling attractive. Is there something wrong with that?"
"It's not the same". I responded confused.
"Why? Look at those girls over there. Topless is something normal in this island." He paused, smiling, and concluded: "I want to see your tits."
I was speechless..., and terribly excited. I wasn't going to undress just because an stranger told me so... no matter how much it turned me on thinking about it... and no matter how much he looked attractive to me. "Why would I do that?"
It seems that I didn't sound very convincing, because he insisted.
"Because I saw your expression while I proposed it and you clearly want to please me. If what I'm telling you wasn't true, you would have told me to 'fuck yourself' instead of talking to me all this time. Don't you think?"
I bited my lower lip to stay silent, not wanting to respond to his taunt. I didn't understand myself neither.
"Well, yes..., but I don't think my husband would approve it..." I tried to settle. Had I said yes? Perfect, I had just recognized that I wanted to please him... His prideful smirk appeared once again, as he stared the glint of the two gold signet rings on my middle and ring fingers.
Then, I looked towards the shore and discovered that Paul had come out of the water and was standing looking at me. He seemed more expectant than angry.
"Oh, of course, your husband. You mean that idiot who is watching how a stranger is picking up his wife, right?" His voice took on a playful edge and my heart pounded.
"Well," I responded, laughing when I realized he had read my thoughts. "I'm afraid so."
"Honey, I'm wasting my time here... If you don't take it off now, I'll leave."
"No, wait..." I instantly regretted my own words. The last thing I wanted at that moment was for him to leave, but it was embarrassing to be so obvious. What seemed like an entire day passed, I looked at him and he, very firmly, insisted: "Show me your tits."
His voice made me shudder and ended up turning my body on. Glancing first left and then right, I put my hands behind my back and slowly unclasped the top of the bikini. I folded one cup into the other and, with a tinkling sound, the little scraps of fabric were thrown into my bag of beach-ware. Then I looked at my husband who was watching us. Expectant, motionless. I could feel my blush spreading upward across my chest and neck. I couldn't believe what was happening. So exposed. Completely vulnerable. I was undressing for a man I'd barely met. Embarrassment and arousal, two emotions causing a great internal conflict yet somehow made me feel proud and I sat upright, arching my back slightly, with my large, full breasts completely exposed.
The black man showed a triumphant smile and I keep still in front of him, internalizing my femininity and my place before a superior man.
"Good girl," he said and I nearly had an orgasm. "You have wonderful tits. Just as I imagined. The color of your nipples is even prettier than I thought." He wasn't only staring with lust; there was something darker, hungrier, hidden beneath his peering.
"Thank you." I answered stupidly and made absolutely no move to cover me. Looking directly into my eyes, he said, softly: "You've made me hard."
I looked down at his crotch and was able to corroborate it. It seemed to get bigger with each second. I gasped for a moment, then I found my voice.
"Certainly." I answered and I couldn't help but notice the huge size, bordering on the portentousness, that was hidden under the swimsuit.
"How do you feel? And try to be honest." He asked me. All of the bragging washed away, a look of benevolent empathy etched on his handsome dark features. Although a suspicious part of me imagined that it was a simple mask.
"What do you mean?"
"You like it, right? It turns you on knowing that I'm getting hard. Am I wrong?"
I nodded. I had rarely been so hot in my life. My nipples were erect, and, worse, that I was flushing like a virgin. But, instead of hiding, I tossed my blonde hair back and held my chin high.
"No, you're not wrong." I admitted. I don't know why that answer wasn't enough for me: "It turns me on that you're getting hard."
"Isn't it stupid to wear the top of the bikini here?"
I nodded again without thinking. His gaze remained fixed on my very naked breasts.
"You're right. It's stupid."
He leaned over me and brought his face close to mine to whisper huskily in my ear:
"This is all according to nature, babe. Don't be so embarrassed." He was caressing my left breast with his long, black fingers. I only answered him with a hitched breath and a small shiver as my eyes flutter shut for a moment. He chuckled. "I bet you've never been treated this way, have you, white rich girl?" I felt his thumb met my nipple slowly, teasingly, as it was more erect than ever. My head instinctively tilted backward in a slow exhale that masked a silent moan. His predatory expression shifted to a confident smirk. "He's a cuckold by instinct. It has been a long since you've been with a real man, right?"
"Yes". I whispered.
"Okay, beautiful. Then let's do something. You have to promise me that you won't wear the top of the bikini in this beach again."
There was no reason or need to make such promise. There was no point in doing it. But I felt that he was right and there was a dark, primal urge: I wanted, almost needed, to please that man.
"I promise." I answered without thinking.
