This story is really weird; I didn't intend it to be when I started it, but it got a mind of its own. If you don't like weird you shouldn't read it, and comments that it is weird (or any synonym thereof, such as creepy, eerie, bizarre, or strange) will be redundant.
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When I was in Las Vegas on my eighteenth birthday after just graduating High School I, Carl Watson, lost my virginity to a call girl that my older brother Ben paid for. Ben is six years older that I am and was married to his college sweetheart Samantha, and was not himself the least bit interested in cheating; but he had cajoled my virginal state out of me and said that there was no way that his younger brother should go to college a virgin.
Fortunately Samantha's family is loaded. Plus Ben is a really smart guy and hard worker and has a good job with Samantha's Dad's company. Ben is Samantha's Dad's fair-haired boy because her Dad (Jack) considered Ben the best thing ever to happen to Samantha. Samantha was an unruly and troubled teen and twenty-year old, however Ben had tamed her like a horse whisperer would a wild mustang. That's a round-about way of saying that the $1000 that the call girl cost Ben wasn't a big deal to him.
Cherry - obviously a stage name - the call girl that I picked out and Ben paid for seemed to like me, and sure gave me my money's worth. After I filled the third rubber and couldn't go any more she whispered to me that since Ben had paid for the entire night and since before our first fuck I had actually given her an orgasm by eating her out with "the longest most muscular tongue ever to poke my pussy," as she put it, that she wanted to give me a special treat.
Cherry made a phone call and shortly thereafter a friend of hers with the stage named of "Bullet" showed up in our room. What happened next was seared into my brain forever. At first I tried to convince myself that I didn't like it; then when my dick got hard despite the previously three filled condoms I had to reluctantly admit that I had become obsessed with it. Ben was the only person that I ever told about it, and his eyes almost popped out of his head when I did.
When I returned home the remarkable Cherry-Bullet event seemed to rattle around in my brain almost daily. I finally broke away from my obsession when after a year I convinced myself that thinking about it made me a pervert, and I was able to banish it from my mind for a decade.
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I followed Ben's lead and after college married my college sweetheart Lizbeth. Despite the age difference - like Ben and me Samantha and Lizbeth are six years apart - Samantha and Lizbeth became best friends. I also got a job in the 1500 employee company where Ben was now a V. P. and that Samantha's father Jack was the CEO and largest stockholder of. I had three other job offers that I turned down to accept the offer primarily because Samantha (including by flirting) and Ben (including by playfully threatening) begged me to, and agreed to pay for the lavish reception that Lizbeth wanted when she and I tied the knot since Lizbeth's family was not able to afford it.
To understand my story you have to know a little bit more about Samantha and Lizbeth.
First I need to note that when Ben first introduced me to Samantha when I was sixteen I developed a crush on her. She certainly noticed and never did anything to repudiate it. I convinced myself that I finally got over my crush when I started dating and having sex in college; subsequent events call that into question.
Back to Lizbeth and Samantha, neither has the face or height to be a model; rather both have a deceptive girl-next-door appearance. I say "deceptive" because their wholesome appearances belie the fire-brands beneath. Both are intelligent, strong-willed, and bold, with vivacious personalities. While Samantha had a more "infamous" youth than Lizbeth, it wasn't by too much, and Lizbeth's middle class parents were likely as impressed with my "taming" of their child as Samantha's Dad was by Ben's "taming" of Samantha. Both women are normally jovial but when sufficiently provoked have tempers that rival that of any other person that I have ever met.
While their hair color and style, eye color, nose shape, and general frontal appearances are different, what Lizbeth and Samantha have in common (aside from an mysterious "it" factor) are sleek bodies with top notch asses and thighs. In fact, several of my friends - and even my Mom - commented that Lizbeth and Samantha look alike. In view of the differences noted above I didn't understand that assessment until one day when they both were bikini-clad and walking in front of me with sun hats on. I swear that from behind, if you didn't see their hair color, they looked like identical twins.
Finally, Lizbeth is a tigress in bed, and from what Ben told me, before the salient part of this story, Samantha is too. He normally is closed-mouth about stuff like that, but he told me the only time I'd seen him drunk - again, at least before the salient part of this story - that she bordered on being too hot to handle sexually. (For some reason that caused a "boing" at my crotch, which fortunately Ben was too drunk to notice).
I have to say that approaching our six year anniversary I was truly happily married to Lizbeth and both Lizbeth and I felt honored to be perceived as emulating Ben and Samantha's marriage since they seemed to be the perfect couple.
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Ben and Samantha's anniversary was within a week of mine and Lisbeth's. We were coming up on six years of marriage, they twelve, and we were planning a joint anniversary celebration for the week of the 23rd. We were going to go to Aruba together for a week of fun and relaxation in the sun. Ben and Samantha's two kids would split time between both sets of grandparents, and Lizbeth and I would seriously start planning on having our first.
Samantha and Lizbeth were exceptionally excited during the planning of the Aruba trip. They invested much time, effort, energy, and emotion in it, much more so than any other one activity that either of them had been involved in. Everything was leading up to a wonderful time.
Then things went to hell.
Two days before the Aruba trip was to start there was a disaster at the main plant of the company that Ben and I worked for and that Samantha's Dad Jack ran. It was a plant that Ben had oversight responsibility for and was the most knowledgeable person in the company about, and it utilized problematic machinery that I, as an electronics engineer, was most familiar with. That meant that the two of us had to drop everything else, and with a team of five other people visit the plant.
Although our tickets and part of our hotel stay were non-refundable, Ben and I both made the case for postponing the trip for a week. That did not sit well with the wives. They independently, and collectively, went ballistic. It was the most angry that I had ever seen Lizbeth, and it was a scary angry because it was smoldering rather than a tantrum with thrown objects, the only other incident in our married life when she went completely off the rails.
Lizbeth even refused to say goodbye when I left and made it known that she and Samantha were going regardless of what Ben and I were doing; Ben related a virtually identical response by Samantha. That really didn't sit well with either Ben or me, but we had our hands full with four eighteen-twenty hour days in a row trying to avoid complete disaster at the wayward plant.
Ben and I unsuccessfully tried to call Lizbeth's and Samantha's cell phones - which we had had specifically upgraded so that that could receive calls in and make calls from Aruba - several times a day while working on the plant's problems. Our calls were never answered, and our voice mails requesting them to call us were never honored.
Fortunately, after the four marathon days we got everything working smoothly, and by adding an extra shift we were able to deliver all of the plant's products on time to all of our customers.
Jack and the board of directors were extremely grateful for my and Ben's hard work, and Jack was concerned because Samantha had not returned calls that he and Samantha's mother Marge had made to her cell phone either. Therefore he authorized the company Learjet 70 to fly us to Aruba.
Ben and I gathered what clothes we needed, met at the airport, and slept the best that we could on the trip. However the flight was turbulent and we arrived in Aruba about 10 p. m. their time tired, frazzled, and irritated.
We knew that the women had arranged a suite with two bedrooms connected to a common living room and bar area. When we presented our passports to the desk clerk and asked for keys to the room we got what only can be described as a startled expression from her.
"I...I...need to check with the manager," she mumbled and then disappeared.
The manager seemed to want to give us another room for the night but we were not in the mood to take shit from anyone. "We've paid for the suite we're booked in and you will give us keys to that suite or there will be hell to pay, including me calling your corporate office right now," Ben boomed while staring down at the manager.
I guess now that I need to relate something that before was irrelevant but probably necessary to make the next part of the story believable. Both Ben and I are big, tough, aggressive, purposeful dudes. While neither of us was interested in playing sports in college, in High School we were both starters in football (Ben a defensive tackle, me a tight end), and Conference champs in wrestling our senior years, Ben a heavyweight (maximum weight 285 pounds), me at the 220 pound weight class. We are still both in excellent physical condition; Ben weighs about 245 and I weigh about 225, both with only 14% body fat (the lean end of the "fit" level for men).
As we rode up the elevator with the keys finally provided to us I asked Ben "What the fuck was that about?"
"I sure as shit don't know, but something is hinky," he growled back at me.
We both were in no mood to be fucked with.
When I opened the door to the living area of the suite, at first I didn't understand what I was looking at - and then a cold rage overtook me. Men's clothes were strewn about. We heard "Yeah fuck me," and other sounds of sex coming from one of the bedrooms.
Not believing our eyes or ears we started for the raucous bedroom. "Don't make any noise until we see what the fuck is going on," I whispered to Ben, who seemed to have a cold rage even surpassing mine; but he nodded his head in agreement.
When we got into the noisy bedroom Lizbeth and Samantha were both on their backs on the California King bed in that bedroom, holding hands and moaning "fuck me," or "eat me," as the case may be. Samantha was being fucked, and Lizbeth was having her pussy eaten, by two guys who looked to be about college age, and two other naked guys were standing on the side of the bed holding their dicks.
Ben grabbed the guy fucking Samantha by the hair and literally threw him into one of the walls, and I kicked the guy eating out Lizbeth in the ribs, for sure breaking at least a couple.
