Crossing The Line With Permission

Well, here I am, in the middle of New York State wine country with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law for a weekend getaway.

It is just past 9 pm and we are settling in to sleep. After a lovely dinner we came back to the hotel and had shared a bottle of wine.

The trip had been planned some time ago for my sister-in-law, Carol-Ann's, birthday, but a couple of family emergencies had postponed it. So here we are, far from home, and frankly, I am bored to death.

OK, not really bored to death, just antsy. My husband and I are pretty busy with the kids and work, and we both exercise regularly. So, sitting around not doing much in the way of moving about is building up a fierce need to get away from the other ladies in the family.

Carol-Ann is, unfortunately, morbidly obese and cannot get around well at all. So instead of hiking and exploring the countryside, we were limited to doing more sedentary activities. My mother-in-law, whom I simply call 'Mom,' is great and very understanding and accommodating to both of us.

Under the circumstances, it meant there would be no lovely walks or even taking in a museum or an art gallery. Though we did enjoy checking out a pottery studio and had a great time doing a wine tasting at a fantastic vineyard.

What really didn't help the situation was that my husband and I hadn't had sex in over a week. It's my fault really. I've been too overwhelmed by working full-time and school part-time to allow myself the time to relax, even though I knew I should.

My husband, God love that man, was understanding to a fault. Though I knew he is frustrated, he never pushes too hard for sex or made me feel guilty for not accepting his regular advances. Though I do feel guilty, which makes me more frustrated and antsy.

'Stupid me', I thought to myself in his absence. The man had spent the last several years sculpting his body into a fantasy. For years he had been handsome and overweight, carrying it well for a man who was six foot and pushing 300 pounds. He was mine as he always had been and so was his long, thick cock; I had no real complaints. He had been large and active; big boned as some might put it, no big belly. Just big all over like a burly biker.

Then, after I had given birth to our third child, he had taken up martial arts. I think he just really wanted to be capable of protecting them. That led to him changing his diet and exercising regularly. He just changed his habits through sheer force of will and the results... Whew! I mean damn! Every time we go to bed and especially when we make love, I feel like I am cheating on him. He is so different, and the difference is good!

My man is now a lean mean fighting machine. Six foot tall with broad shoulders and a hard sculpted body, top that with steely blue eyes and flowing blonde hair, he is like a Viking warrior or mighty Achilles. A god-like warrior, full of wisdom, passion and might. And he is all mine... unless I share.

Now, to be completely honest, earlier in our marriage we had done a bit of swinging. We never went out looking for it, the situations just sort of developed with other couples we knew. It wasn't a lot, but we still enjoy relating the episodes as foreplay.

What shocks me about my hubby's new body is that he never pushes for us to go back into the lifestyle. A part of me always secretly suspects that once another woman shows him interest, and they do, he would at the least suggest opening up our bedroom again. But he never does, beyond the usual flirty tease. He is the same loving man that, even though we have played in the past, is wholly devoted to our life together.

Now, here I sit in our hotel room, bored, full of energy, and feeling frustrated and guilty that I had not given my man a good seeing to before this trip. Trying to make up for it and satisfying my own itch, I began doing some awkward sexting with him.

"Hey stud, I miss you soooo much. We can't do much with Carol-Ann, so I have loads of energy I need to get rid of," I send to him along with a few suggestive emojis.

His reply arrives a couple of minutes later. "Sorry to hear that Babe, that sucks. Is there no way you couldn't get away for a bit? I bet a sexy minx like you can find something to wear you out in no time." Of course, he added two eggplant emojis surrounding a peach emoji to the end of his message.

Oh, that man! He really knows how to tease me. I felt warmth spreading from my womanhood as I muse upon his reply. He knows that one of my favorite fantasies was getting 'spit-roasted' like his emojis implied. My mind is filled with recollections of stuffing myself with one of my dildos while my husband feeds me his meaty cock. I never fail to climax quickly like that, and my pussy is growing moist at the thought.

Well, I am not very good at sexting, and my husband and I are honest with each other to a fault. So, instead of coaxing the fantasy along, I dash it with my own insecurities.

"You are so love-blind, I love you. Fat chance I can get such an opportunity. What with your mother and sister-in-law here," I send back.

His next message is a selfie of him shirtless and flexing, giving me one of his best lop-sided smiles. The caption reads, "to tide you over."

Sighing to myself, I send back, "Oh so hot, now I am all worked up. You are so mean to tease."

He replies, "love you Babe, putting the kids to bed."

Leaning back in the bed, I admire the picture of him for a moment, indulging in the needy sensation his image elicited.

"Oh shoot!" Mom's curse brings me out of my musings. "The batteries are dead," she says holding the TV remote. "Kathy, can you go down to the desk and get some batteries?" Mom asks.

All of us are ready for bed, but I am by far the only one 'presentable' enough to go out of the room. Mom is in a long nightie and Carol-Ann is already lying in her bed and not likely to move until morning. I am wearing a blue tank top and grey cotton shorts which won't seem out of place at all.

So, I hop up and grab the remote saying, "sure Mom." I pick up my room key and head out to the elevator.

Catching my reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator as I ride it down to the lobby, I think, "not too bad for a woman in her late thirties." My breasts are natural C cups that show almost no sag despite the kids they have nourished, and my hips and bum are well shaped due to regular workouts. My long brown hair loosely pulled up into a sloppy bun looks playful but a bit askew, so I pull out the hair band and let it cascade over my shoulders and back.

Striking a few poses to help myself feel as sexy as my husband finds me, I get a bit caught up in it. The doors open up to a lower floor and in walks an older couple wearing swimsuits and carrying towels. At the moment, I was facing one wall of the elevator looking over my shoulder with a sexy pout at the mirror and popping out my ass. There is no covering up what I am doing, and I burst into an embarrassed laugh. The couple grin broadly at me, and I can feel them both appreciating me as they put an arm around each other. As we exit into the lobby the wife turns to me and says, "good for you dear."

Well, that gave me a bit of a flirty boost. Standing for a moment watching the handsome older couple walking to the pool area, I consider coming back after my errand to join them for a swim.

Walking up to the concierge desk, I feel a bit of a chill. "They must have the AC cranked down here," I thought. I notice the young man at the desk was distracted by something on his monitor, so I lean on the desk patiently waiting.

Still looking at his monitor the young man says, "Sorry for the..." He trips over his tongue as he turns to me. "...the wait, can I... can I help you?" Following his eyes, I realize the reason for his stutter. Having been ready for bed, I wasn't wearing a bra. So, with the cool air in the lobby, I am leaning across the desk with my cleavage on display and my nipples poking through the thin fabric of my tank top.

I stand up straight, which only serves to bounce my tits and thrust them out toward the poor fella. He couldn't help himself; he gazes at my chest as if transfixed with his mouth slightly open. My earlier arousal starts to reignite as I enjoy being admired by a handsome man in his mid-twenties.

Abruptly he looks up at me and his face blooms scarlet with embarrassment. He just silently stares at me, probably trying to restart his brain. Eventually he shakes himself slightly and stammers, "oh, sorry, I am so sorry. What can I help you with?"

Smiling at him like he was a snack, I can't help but turn on some charm. Giving him a slight giggle I say, "don't worry about it," and I lean forward again. This time I deliberately use my arms to push my breasts together. Sure enough, his eyes dart down to drink in the sight, although this time he has the presence of mind to look up again quickly.

"Ok... Brandon," I say, reading his nametag, "the batteries are dead in my TV remote." Passing him the remote he quickly ducks down behind his desk and pulls out a new set of batteries.

"Let me get that for you," he says as he pulls open the package and sets about replacing the remote batteries for me.

Watching him as he fumbles with the remote, I get a good look of my my own. To my eyes he is about as tall as my husband and looks fit and clean in his collared shirt and slacks. He has deep brown puppy-dog eyes, short dark hair and a manly touch of dark stumble. All in all, I am as pleased with what I see as he is.

Handing me the remote, Brandon says, "here you go, and sorry again."

Giving in a bit to mischief, I put on my flirtiest voice. "Thank you, Brandon. There is nothing to apologize for..." trailing off I look down at my breasts, guiding his eyes to them again as I slightly push my chest out once more. This time he smiles as he openly leers at me. "Have a good night... Brandon."

At that, I turn toward the elevators putting a deliberate wiggle to my ass for Brandon to enjoy as I leave. Looking back as I get in the elevator, I can see him staring, so I give him a wave as the doors close.

Bursting into laughter once the door closes, I hug myself in disbelief as I ride up the elevator to my floor. Looking at my reflection I say, "You are so bad!" I can't believe I did that, but I feel so good. My pussy grows more excited as I imagine that handsome young man thinking about me as he pleasures himself.

Snapping out of my reverie as the doors open on my floor, I walk out into the hall. Damn it, I am so worked up and it isn't like I can get any relief sharing a room with Mom and Carol-Ann. Nearly at our door an idea strikes me. My in-laws will quickly be out for the night, but I have a swimsuit packed. I decide to change and go work out my excess energy in the pool.

Entering the room, I hand the remote to Mom and quickly pull out my bathing suit. "I am buzzing with energy; it looks like the pool is still open, so I am going to do some laps." I tell her.

Mom appears to consider joining me but after looking at Carol-Ann, she gives me a nod and says, "good idea, have fun." They resume talking as she starts flipping through the channels on the TV.

I slip into the bathroom to get changed and grab a towel. My phone buzzes. "Kids settled to bed, how is your evening?" my husband's text reads.

Knowing it would excite him to no end, I relate my encounter with the concierge to him. Looking at myself in the mirror, I feel pretty good about myself. The red two piece isn't racy, but the tube top and boy short type bottoms hug me in an extremely flattering way. My ass is especially grabbable.

The phone lights up with my husband's reply. "Wow, I told you could find something to wear you out! You are a sexy minx!" followed by eggplant, peach and water spray emojis.

His enthusiastic love and constant work to make me feel good, once again brings out an ache of desire within me. Sending back, "going to the pool to burn off some energy," I turn and snap a sexy selfie of myself and send it along as well.

Grabbing a bag for my towel, key and phone, I wave to Mom and head to the elevator again.

A new text from Hubby arrives. "You are sure to turn some heads you vixen you, have fun 'swimming!'" As he had earlier, he adds a bunch of suggestive emojis. Heavily implying that I would be burning energy in another way than swimming.

Feeling extra flirty, I send back, "You never know, maybe I will," with a winky face emoji.

His reply arrives almost immediately, "Send pictures," along with a camera emoji and another series of suggestive ones. He really is a horrible tease. I mean, it really works, so I can't blame him.

Sighing deeply and feeling a bit flushed, I walk out of the elevator and head to the pool area. Glancing at the concierge desk, I am a bit disappointed that Brandon isn't there. I hoped to give him another peek at me from afar. Sometimes a girl just likes to be appreciated. Luckily for me my husband has no end of praise and encouragement to give. I resolve to send him a few racier photos of myself to keep him revved up for when I return home.

Passing through the glazed glass doors to the pool area, I see that it is largely deserted. Other than the couple I met in the elevator paddling around in the pool, there isn't another soul to be found. Placing my bag and towel on the lounge chair closest to the partition for the hot tub, I wade into the pool.

Taking a minute to just relax in the water, I return a friendly wave to the wife as they climb out of the pool. Getting a good a look at them, I think happily that if this is what being in your late fifties or early sixties is like, then life is good. They look in great shape for their age and the way they look at each other makes me yearn for my husband all the more. Once they dry off, I spy as her husband gives her a playful slap on the ass before they head to the door.

Taking position at the edge of the pool, I begin to swim laps at a fast steady pace. God, it feels so good to move, after the past couple of days tied down to my sister-in-law, this is exhilarating. I lose count of how many laps I did, but with my heart rate peaking and a bit of fatigue setting in, I climb out of the pool and wander over to the hot tub.

Pressing the button to turn on the jets, I slowly sink down into the luxurious warmth of the hot tub. Feeling the tension ooze out of my body as I languish in the seat with my arms spread on the edges of the tub, I sigh deeply. The sensation of the bubbles washing over my skin revives my arousal.

Taking a quick glance, I still don't see anyone around, and the partition gives me a good bit of privacy. I allow my hands to travel up my thighs and toward my desirous womanhood. Leaning my head back on the edge of the tub, I bask in the sensation, running my fingers over my sex. The thought of my husband's commanding masculine form hovering over me invades my mind and drives me to slip a hand down the front of my shorts and caress my excited nub.

Closing my eyes, I image my husband's rampant desire taking position at the entrance of my moist cunt. Suddenly remembering that I had resolved to send him some salacious images, I jump out of the hot tub. Hurriedly, I grab my phone. Looking around again, I see no one. Pulling my top down off my breasts, I sink into the warm waters again.

Squeezing my tits together just above the bubbling water with my forearms, I make my sexiest pouty face and snap a picture. Approving of the shot, I send it to my husband. Still feeling inspired, and more than a little naughty, I hop up on the edge of the hot tub. Framing the shot down between my aroused nipples toward my pussy, I thrust my hand into my swimsuit and pushed it away from me as I run a finger down my slick labia.

A wave of sensation ripples out from my loins at the slightest touch. Gasping sharply, I allow myself to savor it before reviewing the photo. To my eye, it's fucking hot, so off to Hubby it goes.

I am a little disappointed that I have not received any reply from my husband, so I put my phone down, settle back into the tub and reignite the jets. As the heat and bubbles do their subtle work upon me, I envision my manly Hubby stroking his intimidating girth at the images I sent him. Pulling my top back into place, I feel the relaxed excitement that, when my man is present, will slowly build up to a powerful release of sexual tension.

Leaning my head back, I imagine his familiar steely rod radiating its heat upon my blood engorged labia as it moistens itself with my fluids. My fingers drift to my clit as my imaginary spouse began probing my moist depths. My other hand joins the first in the confines of my bottoms driving two fingers in, keeping rhythm with the strokes of my imaginary lover.

"Excuse me," the voice shatters my fantasy abruptly.

Standing at the edge of the partition is the young concierge, Brandon. I look at him dumbfounded as I try to restart my brain. The difficulty in that is compounded by the fact that he is topless, showing off a lean, fit swimmers' physique in his athletic swim trunks.

He continues in a polite tone, though with the slightest hint of a hungry leer, "I am sorry to be a bother, but the pool area closed a few minutes ago."

My mind engages at last, "oh, I didn't know..." Taking in his full frame, I notice a prominent bulge in Brandon's swimsuit. "He saw me," I realize, which only serves to bring out my earlier flirtatiousness. "and he likes what he sees." The fact that this lithe young specimen witnessed me in the act of self-love, and is aroused because of me, consumes my thoughts.

Holding up his hand as he walks up to the hot tub, he says, "no need to hurry, my shift ends when the pool area closes and management lets me use it after I lock it up." He explains, "I am going have to unlock to let you out. So, if you don't mind having a bit of company..." Gesturing at the seat next to mine he seeks an invitation.

My politeness jumps into action before my better judgment. "Of course, I don't mind... thank you for understanding..." At that moment, I realize that one of my hands is still stuffed down my bottoms. Being as discrete with my motions as possible, I do my best to act casual and remove it as Brandon rounds the tub and lowers himself into the seat next to me.

Brandon's natural charisma is readily apparent as we engage in casual conversation. I could see why he had gone into a customer service field; he is so easy to talk to and never makes me feel like he is just putting 'the moves on me.' Feeling like he was an old trusted friend, I answer his questions as if on autopilot while my libido rages within me.

What am I doing? I am a happily married woman on a vacation with family! How can I be here with a man more than ten years my junior, sitting side by side in our revealing swim wear? My breathing lifts my breasts with every desirous inhalation and the need growing inside me begins to demand satisfaction. I hunger for intimate attention, and fulfillment sits mere inches away.

Every time Brandon's knee gently bumps into mine, I feel a surge of titillation travel through my body. "I am on fire," I think to myself. Staring intently into his deep brown eyes, I barely register what he is saying. Then, as naturally as spring turns to summer, his hand rests upon my thigh. Not grasping, just resting like it belongs there, not asking for anything in return.

The pulse of carnal desire emanating from my womanhood intensifies to a superlative degree. The words fade as I lean to Brandon and find myself in a smolderingly sensual kiss with this strange younger man!

I don't know which one of us started this forbidden contact, but for now, I do not care. Brandon's hands explore my body as mine do his. His hand caresses my breasts over my top and the other travels to touch my mound. Finding his growing endowment, I groan hungrily into his mouth. In that moment, I know I am all his. The line has been crossed and I will not go back until I am satisfied.