Cuced in the Tropics

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, exhibitionism and NTR. If this isn't the fetish for you, don't waste your time flooding my inbox with hate mail-- it'll only make me want to write and post MORE cuck stuff (unless, of course, that's your goal...)

Otherwise, I love hearing from fans, and welcome any suggestions, thoughts, criticisms, or fantasy ideas. Enjoy!

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CUCKED IN THE TROPICS Ch. 04

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Jake was uneasy as he sat in the hotel room and carefully applied aloe cream to his sunburn. The pain was coming in waves... burning one minute, and turning into chills the next. Sweat, followed by the shivers. But that's not what was making him uneasy. Callie was still acting weird.

When he'd gone into the bathroom to retrieve the aloe, she'd been in the glass shower, shaving her legs and between them, and cautiously avoiding eye contact. She'd talked very little about her shopping trip with Andre, and Jake couldn't fathom why. She'd certainly come back with a lot of things that were exciting and different from her usual style of dress.

Afterwards, she'd stood in the bathroom for a long time. Jake tried to observe her mannerisms, but his sunburn was a constant and on-going distraction. She stood before the mirror for far longer than she ever took to get ready for a night out. It wasn't until Jake peeked that he saw that she was carefully curling her blonde hair-- something she hadn't done since prom.

He returned to the bed, the knot in his belly having grown more. Jake wanted to be dismissive. To say that her going the extra mile was because she was on vacation, and she was going out dancing with her new friend.

Jake mulled this over for a while, as the TV danced with muted images.

"You're being very quiet," he said, with a timid inflection-- the way he'd prod if she was mad at him but he wasn't sure why.

"I'm just concentrating," she replied from the bathroom. There was a nervous energy to her voice. Just the tiniest tremble. They both heard it. Because then she quickly added, "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Oh, I forgot," Jake reached for his phone. "I wanted to call June and invite him to go do something."

"You should," Callie said, almost a little too quickly. "That might be fun."

From where he sat on the bed, he could see Callie in the bathroom. She had shed her robe and was now getting dressed. The intense level of concentration on her face as she went about this task was concerning.

Even as he dialed June's hotel room phone, his stomach was turning over and over with a bad feeling, and he still didn't understand why.

***

3 Hours Prior

After her massage, Callie had hurried to meet Andre out front. She was feeling especially flustered, and the realization that she'd somehow managed to lose her panties and bra wasn't helping that. She felt very exposed and... well... a little naughty. She smoothed her bouncy playful miniskirt for what felt like the hundredth time, and glanced down at the way her halter top hugged her 36DD chest. Her nipples protruded from the blue fabric ever so slightly. Trying to act casual wasn't good enough. She felt like a million eyes were on her, and they were all able to tell that she wasn't wearing panties. Not only that, but every passing stranger somehow magically knew that the tall handsome black man she was running to meet was definitely not her husband. "What a slut" they'd probably whisper, and Callie's cheeks reddened on their own.

Thankfully, Andre had procured an SUV for their trip into town. For that, she was grateful. It would be far less obvious than if they had to walk.

Andre was leaning against it, having thrown a dark dress shirt on over his t-shirt. He left it casual and unbuttoned.

"You look more than ready to have some fun," he smirked as he inspected her.

Callie blushed. Did he know? He couldn't possibly. Not that it mattered. He'd seen her fully naked during her massage. She'd even accidentally shown her whole body to him. Had it been an accident? She didn't know. She was confused.

Callie clambered into the front seat before her mind could chase those thoughts.

"Typically tourists like to ride in the back," Andre laughed as he drove.

"Oh," Callie felt a little foolish. "Well, I'm not used to being chauffeured around. Plus, I like to see where we're going."

"Perhaps it best if you sat in the back then," Andre said from the corner of his mouth. "The area we'll be traveling through is not as beautiful as the resort."

"It's fine," Callie admitted with a polite smile, watching the narrow streets roll past. "It's very real."

Andre said nothing, but gripped the wheel with his big black hands. Callie found herself fascinated by them.

When the silence began to unsettle her, she spoke. "Thank you for the massage."

"And let someone else rub that beautiful body of yours? It was going to be my pleasure," Andre smirked.

Callie blushed harder-- remembering the sexual tension between them during the rub down. She fidgeted in her seat, fixing her skirt. She noticed Andre glancing from the corner of his eye, and when she glanced down, she saw that her breasts were jiggling and bouncing as the SUV rumbled over the pothole-ridden street. Unsupported by a bra, there was a lot of movement to their heavy weight. The thin fabric barely containing them. For reasons Callie couldn't explain, she didn't do anything to hide them or cover herself.

Finally, Andre pulled over to the curb and parked. Callie was doubtful as she appraised the neighborhood. "There are shops here?" She asked, trying not to sound critical, but the degree of fear in her voice was apparent. The area looked like third world country... and not in a good way. Graffiti covered the surfaces of poorly maintained homes that crumbled to the ground. Bars were bolted to broken windows. Stray dogs rummaged through litter for any scraps of discarded food. There were people around-- the ones who didn't look dangerous looked... haunted. That was the only word that came to mind.

"They're a few blocks down. Parking is terrible. We have to walk from here," Andre explained. "Don't worry. In a few blocks, the area becomes much nicer and upscale. This city can be very marbled."

Callie took his word for it. When she dismounted the vehicle, her skirt rose up, and a few scowling punks in bandanas caught a flash of her creamy bare thigh.

Callie quickly fixed her attire and hurried to Andre's side, grateful that he was here, because she was nervous and never felt more lost and far from home. She had the overwhelming urge to call this off, to go back to the hotel. But Andre walked close, and she felt safe in his shadow.

They hadn't gone more than a dozen steps from the car, when a man called to her from the steps of a dilapidated building. "Hey baby! Hey mamma! Let's see them big tits? You look sexy as fuck!"

Callie reddened and leaned into Andre, feeling tense and on display. That sensation wasn't helped when a moment later, a breeze kicked up and wafted her skirt high. Callie nearly jumped as the man calling to her got an eyeful of her wide hips and plump round ass.

Horrified, she grabbed at her skirt to keep the light material from blowing high again, but by then it was too late. The man had gotten an eyeful of her bare ass.

"Whew, baby!" He hollered after her. "You just made my day! No panties! You shameless slut."

Callie reddened, and glanced meekly up at Andre. The wind didn't relent, and she was shuffling awkwardly, her hands on her own butt, trying to keep her skirt from flying away, flashing everyone on the street.

Andre assessed her plight, and as naturally as driving a car or tying his shoe, he reached his big hand down her back, and rested it firmly on her ass. Callie jumped at first, but then she glanced up at Andre. His expression was one of nothing at all. Like this was the most natural thing in the world. Her skirt fluttered around her legs as she walked, but otherwise, it wasn't treating everyone on the street to a free peep show. And to a casual passerby, they just looked like a very intimate couple.

A very mismatched couple, she reminded herself, appraising his big bulging arms, and chocolate dark skin. Somehow, after she overcame her initial shock, Callie didn't mind. His hand was big and commanding. She felt like they were dancing and he was leading-- guiding her along the street like the alpha that he was. And she was just getting swept up in his powerful tidal force. His hand alone was big enough to palm one of her plump ass cheeks.

They walked another block like that. The heat was still in Callie's face, but she felt directed, protected, and slightly thrilled. And that wasn't the only place where there was heat. The desperate tingling between her thighs was back. And the orgasm she'd been deprived of in the spa changing room was dampening her thighs and calling forth images to her imagination.

She wasn't aware of how hard she was breathing until they paused at a corner and she felt her heavy chest rising and falling. Why was this turning her on? She was in the middle of a crowded and dangerous city, with a stranger's hand on her ass. And yet, she was nearly quivering with the thrill.

This was so bad. And she knew from having seen Andre with Mei that there was nothing so innocent in this gesture as him keeping her skirt down. He wanted to touch her butt, and Callie was letting it happen. But as long as they didn't take it any further, was it the worst thing in the world?

Her thoughts were still chasing each other in a relentless spiral as they cut along a side street. She didn't notice at first the way that Andre stiffened, suddenly on high alert.

At the end of the street, a group of half a dozen men were gathered around, and when they spotted Andre, there was recognition in their eyes. One glance at them, and Callie knew that they were bad news. But not like conventional punks looking for a cheap thrill out of boredom. These men seemed organized. Dangerous in a way that was next level above common street muggers. They had calculation.

They were dressed well. Or well enough. Nice slacks, breezy button down shirts. She spotted tattoos. Not just on their arms, but several had face and neck tattoos. Many had scars across their dark skin. Their eyes were intense, burning, always searching. She could see the murder in them. The ill intent.

As they strode toward the pair, their shirts blew open. Callie stiffened when she spotted guns. She'd never seen real pistols before. Jake was always such a pacifist and didn't believe in guns. Now here she was, being approached by a gang of men wearing them.

"Andre," she whispered, tense and fearful.

"Put your hand in my pants," Andre whispered, urgently eyeing the men who were coming up to them.

"What???" Her eyes widened in alarm. What he was saying made no sense--

"Tourist women-- especially white women-- don't pass through this part of town unescorted... if you know what I mean. It's the way things are around here. If they don't see a sign that you're claimed, they'll abduct you right here on the street. If they think I've already claimed you, they'll leave you alone."

"That's silly... that's not how the world works. That's just not--" Her eyes widened as she drew their leering glances. There was something in those hard eyes that made her fear for more than just her life. One of the men began to reach for the gun on his belt.

"Just remember that. You're with me." Andre insisted quietly.

It was all enough to send Callie into panic mode. No longer thinking about the rationale behind it, she drove her hand straight into the waistband of Andre's slacks and down until she felt the warm yielding flesh of his manhood.

Her whole face reddened. He wasn't wearing underpants! She didn't have much time to consider this, as the men were fanning out, surrounding the pair. Her heart was pounding-- too afraid to be aware of her own embarrassment. What was going to happen? Were these men going to kill her? Take her? Gang rape her before selling her off into sex slavery? On any other day, it would seem impossible-- the sorts of things that silly racist Hollywood action movies espoused happened to tourists in third world countries. But standing in this run down city, the only white person within site, all of those nightmare movies seemed all too possible.

She leaned herself against Andre, for protection and comfort. His hand still rested on her ass. Without thinking, she closed her fingers around the shaft of his limp cock. Even limp, he was more than a handful. His girth overflowed her palm, and she had no clue how far down his dick extended.

"Andre, what you doing in this part of town?" One of the men approached-- a slender man with a pencil thin mustache and aviator sunglasses.

Andre puffed up his chest and kept his chin held high. Not that the posture was necessary, he was already towering over the men. "I'm taking my woman shopping."

"Did you forget to make the last meeting?"

"I didn't forget. I made other arrangements," Andre was calm, one big arm commandingly around Callie.

She felt silly, standing with her hand down his pants, but the men seemed to not question it at all. Maybe Andre wasn't lying. Her grip remained around his cock. She tried not to think about it, but it was impossible to ignore. Like wrapping her hand around a huge snake, she knew that she was only feeling a small area of it, and he was soft! Jake's entire package when soft, could fit in her whole hand. Andre's felt like it could run off and have it's own adventures, and she would be merely dragged along for the ride. There was no controlling cock of this size... it would go wherever it wanted to--

"We didn't hear about no arrangements. We didn't get our cut," Aviators said. His voice was cold. Unsympathetic. There was something untold to his presence that made Callie think this man was capable of unfathomable cruelty.

"Too bad for you. Take that up with your boss," Andre shrugged, indifferently, and made to move past the circle of men.

They continued to block his way. Aviators glanced at Callie. She saw her own reflection in his lenses, and she shivered before shying her eyes away. "This your new slut?" He asked.

Callie bristled slightly, her hand tightening around Andre's member. She realized fear was making her grip him so tightly that she might actually be hurting him. She eased her hand back a bit and tried to rub the circulation back into his shaft. This proved to be a mistake, as she could feel him start to grow beneath her trembling tender touch.

"This is my woman," Andre said firmly, his hand still on her ass, possessively.

Callie took a nervous breath, seeing herself blushing in her own reflection. She swallowed and looked away meekly.

"Mmmm... she looks good," the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She felt multiple sets of eyes on her body. She melted tighter into Andre's body, clinging desperately to him. "Nice curves. Nice white skin." He reached out a hand and traced a finger along the curve of her breast. "Girl like this would go for a lot of money."

Callie glanced up at Andre with legitimate fear in her eyes. There was a calmness in his expression that she found reassuring. Even though they were outnumbered, he seemed to command this whole moment, this whole conversation. Her hand squeezed his member again without realizing that she was doing it. She was moving it slowly, as though she was petting his penis for reassurance.

"I said, she's with me," Andre said with calm finality, and when the breeze kicked up, his shirt blew open. Callie saw a gun hanging from a leather holster beneath his arm. Shiny and polished, it caught the light.

Callie looked from it, to Andre, then to the men standing around them. Mustering up the courage to find her voice, she repeated, "I'm his." The words just fell out of her mouth. She realized how she must look right now, with her bright white skin, her mini skirt and tight halter that hid nearly nothing, standing on a public street with her hand down the front pants of this towering statuesque black man-- a man she only just met a few days ago... while on her honeymoon! If her parents, or god forbid husband, could see her now, they wouldn't recognize her! How could she ever explain this to any of them?

"Damn right she is," Andre said firmly, and gave her ass a light smack-- just hard enough to assert his territory. Callie jumped and yelped slightly, her boobs giving a little jiggle from the movement. And before she could collect herself, Andre leaned over her, half scooping her up in his arm and pressed his full lips to hers, meeting her upturned face.

Oh my god! Her mind was screaming. He's kissing me! Even as she realized it, Andre's tongue rolled into her mouth and found hers. He licked expertly at her tongue, coaxing it to life. Reflexively, she began to kiss him back. Her first thought was "His tongue is huge!" Then speaking of huge, she felt his cock give an excited jump in her palm as her tongue took curious tastes of his. They wrestled playfully. The kiss deep and powerful and passionate. There was real hunger in the way Andre moved his mouth. Callie felt like she was making out with a man-eating panther. She could sense the danger, feel the fangs. Only the danger didn't come from the fear of attack. It was from something much more primal and lusty. The kiss seemed to last for hours, even though it was only a few seconds-- for the benefit of these dangerous men who were scrutinizing them.

But in that time, Callie had lost all track of who she was, where she had come from, or that she was supposed to be on vacation with her husband. Her hand responded to Andre's throbbing girth by stroking him back and forth gently in his pants. Maybe it was just a reflex, but it seemed instinctively like the right thing to do.

When they broke the kiss, Callie's eyes were starry and dazed. Her heart racing, and her hand was working along Andre's length, searching for his head that was still very far down. Instead, her fingers found his big heavy balls, and she caressed them gratefully.

The men seemed to accept this, and they returned their attention to Andre. They continued to talk, but Callie was far less aware of the conversation now than she had been a minute ago. It seemed oriented around business and money. Between the gun on his shoulder, and the conversation at hand, it made Callie wonder just what Andre was involved in. But that all seemed so secondary in comparison to what their bodies were doing-- Andre holding her protectively, and Callie cradling his enormous organ, caressing it, tracing the lines of his veins with curious fingers, and softly massaging his balls.

The impromptu "business" meeting eventually concluded with a gangbanger's version of "Have your people call my people." Callie had no clue what it was about, and frankly, she didn't want to know.

The armed men parted in front of them and let them pass. They shuffled uncomfortably by. Andre's cock swung heavily in his pants. Callie couldn't get past just how big he was. Like an animal. And in her palm, he was waking up quite a bit.

"One more thing," Andre paused. He glanced at Callie, then back to the men. "Don't ever talk business in front of my woman again." Then he turned back to Callie, returned his hand to her butt and steered them away. "C'mon baby, lets get you shopping," he said.

They made it two more blocks before Callie realized that she still had her hand down Andre's pants and firmly around his member. Her legs were trembling, her mind a mad blur of thoughts, that it wasn't until a passing well dressed couple gave Callie a disapproving glance. Callie regained her senses. Not only was she still very noticeably fondling Andre's package, but it seemed that they'd left the bad neighborhood behind. The shops, restaurants, and hotels on all sides of them were fancy, well maintained, and on a class that even Callie felt was far above her economic place in the world. Here she was, walking around in public with her hand down a man's pants. Oddly, she wasn't embarrassed in the same way that she'd been when she and Jake had almost been caught fucking in front of the hotel room window. Why was that? She decided that here, she had done something necessary in order to survive. There was nothing embarrassing about necessity.