I had already experienced a number of threesomes in the past with my wife, about four I think. They had always excited me, I'd always got harder and lasted longer than at any other time we had sex together. I never analysed it very much at the time, about why it turned me on so much. I just knew it was going to be one of the most arousing nights of sex I was likely to enjoy – apart from one time when Julie seemed to be interested only in the guy we were with and I felt very much like an outsider which wasn't especially pleasant, although that was the exception.
But nothing had happened in that area for some time, maybe three years or more. So it was unexpected, at least by me, when Julie began to flirt outrageously with a Canadian guy we met while we were on holiday in Queensland. He and his girlfriend were staying at the same hotel as us. It was nothing special, just the usual simple villas gathered around a swimming pool and spa and only a short walk from the beach. Each villa was isolated from the pool by an abundance of the semi-tropical plants so common to that part of the world, which gave the pool area quite a private feel if there were only a few people there.
The four of us had got to drinking together at the bar next to the pool after yet another exhausting day lying in the sun, sliding into the pool for a lazy lap or two and dining on seafood and fresh mango.
We made a connection right from the start – more with Dave than with Claudia it must be said but even her slight distance seemed of no consequence after that constant stream of Margaritas we consumed during the day.
I noticed Dave's appreciative attention to Julie throughout the afternoon. It seemed like whenever she felt like cooling off in the pool, so did he. Each time she went to the bar for another round of drinks, he was there to help her carry them.
Julie responded to the attention of course, I caught her on more than one occasion, turning away from us to put her hand inside her one-piece swimming costume and lifting her breasts up so that they formed a more visible cleavage.
After she and Dave raced each other for a couple of laps of the pool together, I watched as they stood against the far wall together, breathing heavily and talking in hushed tones. Claudia had gone to their villa for something and I was lying on a lounge with a magazine over my face. I had made sure I could still see them though, under the edge of the page and that curious sense of excitement started to make itself felt again as I watched them talking quietly, secretively.
Dave was facing the wall, his hands on the edge and Julie was standing right up next to him, her breasts noticeably pressing against his arm. Her face was closer to his now, whispering in his ear. I could only guess what she was saying but I had no doubt that it was something sexual, she had that look on her face I'd seen so often when she was excited by a man.
I felt relieved that I had draped a towel over myself earlier (had I subconsciously guessed what would happen?) as my penis started to respond to the sight of my wife's surreptitious flirting with another man. It was such a strange sensation, almost like it was me who was the interloper, the transgressor, for secretly watching the illicit episode playing out in front of me.
Certainly it was Julie who was making all the moves, her mouth so close she was almost licking his ear, standing with her body right up against his, I could imagine her pressing her mound against his thigh under the water. Of course, Dave wasn't protesting. Who would, with some highly charged woman rubbing up against you in an erotic, tropical setting and a bellyful of booze? Even with the husband only a few metres away (fortunately asleep apparently), it would be a tasty temptation for any man.
It was at that moment I heard Claudia's shoes tip-tapping on the tiles (she was the type who wore heels at the pool) and instantly but without seeming to hurry, Julie leaned back and started a languorous back-stroke down the pool, calm as you like. Claudia called Dave and said they should get ready for dinner.
Once I'd heard them leave I lifted the magazine off my face. Julie was sitting on the other side of the pool, directly opposite and was just gazing at me. Now, normally, I have no trouble at all knowing what Julie's thinking because she tells me. A refreshingly open and direct woman is my wife. But I just couldn't decipher the look she had trained on me at that moment. It seemed to be a mix of accusation (or was that my imagination?), amusement and something else. What? ... Challenge? ... Defiance? Whatever, I was hungry and told Julie I was going to shower and get dressed for dinner.
The dining room was full of mostly couples, some families, each party having its own table. We ate a delicious meal and chatted amiably from what I remember. I do recall that Julie ordered oysters "to go with the champagne" she said. I, of course, brought up the subject of oysters supposedly being aphrodisiacs and told my usual, lame joke that I didn't believe the rumour, as I'd had a dozen one night and only eight of them worked. It was at that very moment I noticed Julie take the briefest of glances in the direction of where Dave was sitting.
After we'd finished the champagne and the dessert, Julie pushed her plate away like she was totally stuffed, leaned back in her chair and spread her legs wide. Now, in a man, this would have been the posture of some overweight couch potato after one too many beers but in a woman who exuded sex like Julie did at this moment, it clearly said 'ready and willing'. I suppose she had already noticed the waiter was approaching our table to collect the plates and had struck her pose in preparation. All the while he was clearing the table, Julie stayed with her legs apart, staring silently at me and the moment he turned and started to walk away she said, "I'm not wearing any underwear you know."
My God, I can still clearly remember the instant sensation in my cock. It didn't suddenly get hard, it was just like a fiendishly aggressive call girl had run her teeth and tongue along the length of it from tip to balls – and then some. But it wasn't the fact that my wife had said she wasn't wearing underwear – well, not entirely anyway. It was the fact that the waiter almost definitely heard her.
"And what if he did?" Julie challenged, with a smirk on her face. And it wasn't just a simple, rhetorical question either. I knew ... we both knew, she was seriously questioning where things would lead if it happened that the waiter followed up on his intimate knowledge of my wife somehow.
So, by this stage, I was looking forward to a night of sexual abandon with my woman who now seemed to be ready to suck my balls out through my eye sockets. The short walk back to our villa seemed to be painfully long that night. My hand was sliding up and down the back of Julie's satin dress, my fingers joyously confirming the earlier statement about her lack of underwear.
I didn't really want to stop but at one point Julie turned me around to face her and pulled my face down to her breasts. With one hand she pulled the top of her dress down and to the side until one breast was completely exposed. She lifted the nipple to my mouth and gasped when I rolled it between my lips. At the same time, I felt her other hand moving rhythmically between us. At first, I thought she was trying to rub my cock and was missing the target in her excitement but I soon realised that her hand was exactly where it wanted to be.
She was rubbing herself through her dress. By moving the position of my mouth on Julie's breast, I could see that she was standing with her legs apart and her fingers were moving up and down and pressing hard on her protruding mound.
