Whistler

Chapter 1:

His book had languished for months, ignored and remaindered, a disappointment to the one or two snippy critics who had bothered to review it-a sad, failed, offspring of his imagination. So it came as a stunning surprise when his agent had called with the news that a studio was interested in making it into a movie and he was astounded in the months to follow, as his story wound its way into a script and his words found their way into the mouths of movie stars and as he and his wife emerged with more money than they could have ever imagined. Suddenly, their mortgage was a thing of the past, the college funds were full, retirement was a real consideration and there was more than enough money for lavish vacations. As a physician, he had always provided well for his family, but it was a new thrill to know that he could spoil his beautiful wife in a suite at her favorite hotel, at her favorite ski resort. She had skied competitively before they met, a dazzling beauty, traveling the world and breathing in the high mountain air and it was now, finally, time again, to treat her to the spoils of the world that she had left behind to become his wife and a mother to their three young children. He was determined to make their week away the most memorable and enjoyable time of her life and when it was over, he knew, without a doubt, that he had succeeded.

Their vacation officially began as they climbed into their new Meteor Gray Metallic, 911 GTS, theirs now for only one day, as it throbbed with power. They pointed the GPS to the Fairmont Whistler, which sat five hours north at the end of a glorious, serpentine, cliff-hugging road. Having kissed their kids goodbye for the third time and after confirming emergency phone numbers with their nanny at least as many times, his wife began her transformation from spouse to mistress, with her deep, dark hair flung back, her legs apart, her lips glistening, her breasts shaping her turtle neck, and with a slow wave of relaxation passing through her body as she leaned back into the impossibly comfortable leather seat of the Porsche. They drove without stopping, occasionally testing the car's ruthless power and its grip of the road, with her 80's favorites booming, and as they both marveled at the beauty of the costal road and its vistas, their great good fortune, their love of one another and at their ten glorious years of marriage.

At the Fairmont, they were immediately recognized and welcomed by the staff, as if they had been born to a royal family and he noticed that the valet handled the Porsche keys respectfully, like a long awaited gift, or as one would handle a palm full of plutonium. The hotel manager greeted them warmly, helped unload their luggage, and led them through the elegant stone and wooded lobby with its high arched beams, to their magnificent suite, bypassing the front desk altogether. As always, his wife drew the lusty, but mostly discrete eyes of the men in the lobby as she strode with the sleek confidence of one who is used to being watched and desired. In their suite, a fire crackled in the corner, and a giant window framed the ski slope, the skiers lit by the dusky evening light and just as he had requested, a 2008 bottle of Antinori Solaia, her favorite Carbenet, sat breathing on the rustic oak table, two elegant glasses and a tray of Tarentaise cheese from Vermont at its side. The first taste would have to wait, though.

His desire for her had never waned, and in moments like this, he struggled to keep his hands off of her, although in truth, she always liked it when he lost the struggle. She was feeling the same hunger for him, as she surveyed the markers of privilege that their union had created, and the air was electric with their desire for one another. Before they had met, she had loved to fuck, sometimes with near strangers, allowing that rush of lust to fill the man to hardness and then for him to fill her with as much of his aggressive need as he could muster. She had loved the athletic, hurried, grunting and disordered breathing she would hear in a man, his head thrown back in pleasure, or his hard cock thrust forward to her mouth in desire. She was never afraid of lust, and rode many a bucking cock, never finding a man too large, or too hard or a thrust too powerful. A gift of marriage that she had never expected was the ability to engage in this same aggressive dance with a man she knew so well and loved so much over so many years. After ten years, she knew exactly how to tease and to harden her husband and he had learned how to thrust and to dominate his wife in just the way that she loved. This night was going to be no different.

As they stood before the fire, he took her in his arms and kissed her lightly on the lips at first, and then deeper, probing with his tongue and pulling her harder into him, devouring her scent. They stood in the dim light of the room, the warmth of the fireplace stroking them, as he lifted her sweater over her head. Her beautiful long hair lifted, and then fell back onto her shoulders, as she shook it away from her deep brown eyes. He kissed her again hungrily, and undid her bra, pulling it gently forward and away from her breasts, for a moment allowing a space between them, easing the pressure of his hardness against her pelvis. The site of her beautiful breasts only hardened him further and he pulled her back to him, mashing himself into her and pulling one of her arms firmly behind her back. With his free hand, he slipped his fingers into the waist of her Superfine jeans, and swiveled the button, then started the zipper downward. The dark hair of her pussy grazed the back of his fingers as he pulled and he knew that she would soon be naked, and his for the taking. Her pants were now open, and she ached for his touch, but he was determined to make her wait. He turned his attention to her breasts, with their deep areolae and hardening nipples. The skin of her chest was dappled in the light of the fire and he could see goosebumps forming over her breasts and abdomen. He kissed upwards from her nipples and back to her mouth as she stood, in profile for the skiers in the distance. As their tongues met, his hands found their way back to her pants, sliding them down to her knees. He needed to pause, to drink up her beauty and to make her wait, standing and knowing that in her nakedness, she was his alone to have. He told her to stand perfectly still where she was, and poured two glasses of wine, before sitting down with his, on the couch, his pants tented, and his eyes level with her pubic hair, still not fully believing, ten years into this, that such a glorious beauty could really be his.

She wanted to kneel, to feel him in her hand, to smell and to taste him, to harden him for the fucking she now wanted so badly, but he had other plans. He pulled her toward him, and her wine sloshed in her glass as he pushed his face into her pussy. He breathed her deeply in through his nose, smelling her like a wine, and feeling her lips part slightly in their wetness by the tip of his nose. Her hair bristled against his face, and he shuddered with desire for her. He reached down to her feet and helped her step out of her jeans, now fully naked and aching with desire. He led her a few steps to the floor in front of the fire and laid her on her back, putting a pillow under her head, the two of them knowing that some skiers, at the right angle, might now be able to see her in naked profile, as the night darkened and as the relative light of their room improved the view. He moved slowly down from her head to her legs, as he kissed and nuzzled her on the way. He drew her knees up and her legs apart, putting his head between her legs and just barely grazing her swollen clitoris with his tongue as he explored her with his kisses. To her dismay, he kept going south, to her knees and below, before turning and making his way back, achingly slowly. As he approached her pussy, she reached for his head, pulling him closer, but he resisted. He grazed her again with his tongue, and felt her shiver. This went on for what felt like hours to her. A light touch, a shiver, and then absence, as his tongue and lips worked every part of her, except for the one part she so wanted him to lick. She had wild, vivid thoughts of tongues and cocks, and penetrations past, as he teased her and as her frustration mounted. Finally, he zeroed in, with some desperately needed force and found her to be soaking wet with lust. It took no more that a couple of firm thrusts of his tongue before her face tightened, her breathing changed and that familiar, beautiful agony began to spread through her and she twisted and grabbed his head, forcing him onto her. After her orgasm rippled through and she was released, she groped for his cock through his pants. She wanted him now, hard and deep. She fumbled urgently to open his pants and pulled him to her mouth, tasting his pre cum, and ensuring his veiny hardness, with a few strokes of her hand, her lips and her darting tongue. Soon he too could wait no longer, and he moved between her legs, finding her opening as only a husband can, in a single thrust, pushing down hard into her on the hotel room floor, pulling her left leg up to his shoulder to help him find his way deeper. It was only a few thrusts before he knew the end was near, and he felt his back and his stomach tightening in anticipation. He thrusted twice more, before pulling out and sliding himself onto her stomach, jetting onto her from her pussy to her breasts and groaning as he rubbed against her and released. He rolled to her side, as she stroked his come into her skin, and as they both lay in the warmth of the fire, panting and knowing, with certainty, that the week's fun had just begun.

Chapter 2:

The warm water cascaded over her from the sunflower sized showerhead and her soapy, soothing, hand slid over her curves as she relished the freedom that the week ahead would hold. She had missed the feeling of bathing and grooming at leisure, freshly fucked and a little sore and it felt good to pamper herself in the water. Her husband busied himself with his computer as she showered and he was soon gazing at his favorite pictures of his wife, taken on a brilliantly naughty and sunny day, months before, when she had let him photograph her sitting in his desk chair, the sunlight streaming in on her, wearing only black boots and a crisp white shirt, as she masturbated for him. In his favorite picture, her right was leg bent at the knee, the heel of her boot was anchored hard on the arm of the chair, and her head was tilted slightly forward with a delicious grimace beginning to crinkle her lips as she pushed her vibrator onto herself. He wondered what images were filling her mind at that moment as he savored the image of her orgasm that filled his own. These pictures aroused him as always, and he distracted himself as she showered by opening his browser over the images and planning his wine list for the week. Over the years he had taught his wife to love wine just as she had taught him to ski, and he wanted her to enjoy a brilliant bottle of red per day-an elegant moment, après ski, for them to share each evening at Whistler. So far, his line up included a Chateau Petrus, an Haut Brion, and a Penfolds Grange, all to be opened and waiting for them in their room at 4:00 pm sharp. He was reviewing his instructions on the screen for the Somelier, when his eye was drawn to an unfamiliar icon: a TV camera in profile sitting in the tray at the bottom of the page. He clicked on the icon and found a security option for their suite: a video surveillance system that streamed only to his laptop, recorded and erased only at his discretion and opened only with a password of his choosing. With a few clicks, he had enabled all of the cameras, their active operation signaled by a tiny green light on top of the new icon. He felt a shiver of excitement as chose the images from the bathroom and watched his wife on the screen step naked from her shower and reach for a towel.

The phone rang at that moment, startling him, and he minimized the image and snapped his laptop shut, lifting the phone to his ear to hear the sommelier apologize for the interruption and introduce himself in a crisp, European manner. He extended an invitation to the doctor and his wife, to join him and six other guests, in the tasting room in one hour, for the opening of a bottle of Chateau Ausone, a 2009 no less, that he thought would hold particular appeal for them, having reviewed their orders for the days ahead. He accepted the invitation, of course, exciting his wife, who beautified herself quickly, dressing in a long black skirt and pearls. She presented herself perfectly, as always, finding a look that spoke of both elegance and raw sexuality. He dressed in an open necked shirt and a new bespoke suit, and emerged from the room, sly with cool pride, his gorgeous wife on his arm, as they made their way downstairs. Soon they found themselves in the candle lit cave of the grand hotel, a very private place, the air cool and musty to protect the hundreds of bottles of the fine wine that surrounded them, standing at one of two tasting tables for four, exquisite glasses of red wine in hand, making small talk with the most attractive young couple they had ever seen, in the flesh.

The handsome young man who stood across from the doctor's wife had a deep voice, raw like Eddie Vedder's, and he entranced her as he described his constant travel around the world running his company. She found herself studying his lips and his deep eyes and his hands and his shoulders as he spoke, and she could feel the sexuality of his social and his physical power. She was surprised to find that he was at the resort alone, enjoying a rare break from the frenetic pace that his life had imposed and that he had just met the woman who shared his side of the table. The doctor chatted with the exquisite young woman as she sipped her wine and stood across from him, in some ways a near perfect copy of his wife from ten years earlier. She was skiing the world, and was also alone at Whistler, waiting to be helicoptered tomorrow to a sun baked but frigid high mountain edge where she was to be photographed in her beauty and sexy athleticism by her sponsor, Solomon skis. The night swirled forward with a hazy, sexual energy, the four of them getting to know one another, losing themselves in conversation about wine, the world, and even politics, before finally returning to the suite where they were soon interrupted by a call about the appointments that the doctor and his wife had booked in the spa, but had completely forgotten. They left the young couple in their room, to finish the bottle of Chateau Palmer and the tapas that they had ordered and returned later, languid after their time in the spa, to find the two of them still deep in conversation. The two couples enjoyed more fine wine and conversation, before parting for the night, but after agreeing to join the young woman in her helicopter early the next morning and to ski together, in pairs, later in the day.

As his wife relaxed on the couch, the doctor returned to his laptop, curious and perhaps knowing what he might have recorded by chance when he had set the surveillance cameras in motion earlier. He soon found images of the young couple, and expanded them to fill the screen. He fast-forwarded breathlessly and then paused, before sitting without comment next to his wife on the couch with his laptop on his lap. The young couple was on the screen before them, paused and filling the screen in a breathtaking pose. The man was frozen in profile, having just urgently undressed the beautiful young woman, and her athletic body was now nearly completely revealed before him as he sat motionless before her on the same couch on which the doctor and his wife were now sitting. He looked to his wife, their eyes met in arousal, and he pressed play. The naked young woman on his screen leaned forward into her brand new partner, her hands pressing into his groin, as he grasped at her jaw, kissing her forcefully. Her dark hair hung forward, shading her face as she knelt before him and opened his pants. The doctor's wife gasped as the young woman unbuckled her partner's belt, lowered his zipper slowly, pulled the top of his pants apart and released his cock, before sliding his pants quickly down to his feet. His penis bobbed in the air before her face, obviously aroused. It was intensely hard, its head shining with tension, the veins along its side plumped and blue, its edges chiseled. It was improbably thick, too big for her fingers to meet as she grasped it with both of her hands. It was also enormously long, reaching up to nearly the base of his muscled chest as he sat, with his head thrown back in pleasure as she stroked. The doctor's wife had fucked only one man this big, in a frenzied and noisy coupling, that started on the floor of a shower in Val D'Isere, and continued for several days, fucking again and again, first from behind in her favorite position, and then on her back, and then riding him from on top, struggling with each thrust, as he repeatedly forced himself in to the hilt, leaving her raw and deeply sore, but completely filled with enjoyment and with his come. She felt a thrill of passion run through her, as she contemplated the exquisite pain that the young woman was about to enjoy. She remembered the surge of excitement that she had felt when she had first struggled to fit the head of that cock into her mouth, and now watched with some envy as the young woman stretched her lips around the end of this huge penis. Her husband was equally aroused, achingly hard in his pants, his eyes darting between the couple and his wife, her breathing irregular, and her groin moist with terrible, delicious, irresistible, forbidden hunger for another man's cock. They watched in silence together, his heart pounding, her breathing in staccato, as the young man thrusted into his partner from behind, somehow disappearing completely into her tiny body, then lifting her onto her back, and plunging into her again, their bodies perfectly matched in masculinity and femininity. Where he was muscled and hard she was soft and enveloping; her curves met his hard edges. He was broadly tattooed, surprisingly in a tribal way, over his muscled shoulders. Her skin was smooth and perfect, her breasts were full and generous and her nipples and areolae were the only deeply colored accents on her young, firm body. He continued pounding into her, bending her legs back, deepening his access to her, and pushing relentlessly, with a young man's urgency, faster and faster, until he pulled back, reached for himself and stroked, coming over her stomach as he moaned. It was impossible for the two voyeurs to miss the fact that his jet of come was massive, spreading from the hair of her pussy to her face, small amounts even splattering her chin, and delivering nearly twice the volume that the doctor had deposited onto his wife, in the same suite, only a few hours earlier.

They had hardly been able to finish watching before they were fucking again, now on their bed. It was urgent and fast, his wife's skirt hiked up to her chest, his pants down around his ankles, his shoes still on. It was a type of fucking that she had liked before marriage, calling it "watch and socks" fucking, for obvious reasons. He grunted and came into her quickly and they kissed and held one another, silently savoring the excitement they had just shared and with her mind wandering, naughtily, to thoughts of the promise that she had made during the wine tasting, to ski with the young man, alone she hoped, in the morning.

Chapter 3

As the dawn light seeped into the suite, he felt himself awakening confused, his consciousness lightening but not fully unfurled, as he heard a familiar sound in an unfamiliar setting and at an unusual time. He blinked awake listening to the pace of his wife's breathing quicken and as her vibrator buzzed like a wasp. He glanced to his right in time to see bliss start to cross her face; her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her head pushing back into her pillow, as she tried to pant silently through pursed lips. Her sheets were thrown to the side, her legs were spread widely apart and her pelvis was tilted sharply as she pushed her favorite toy hard into her mound. He watched in silence, instantly hard, having never known her to do this on her own. He lay there and wondered what she was seeing in her mind as she masturbated. She came forcefully, with little jolts running through her, just as the phone rang.