A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance by Jason Lenov Read Free Book Online Page B

wore that blue bikini.
    The men that passed didn't gape. They didn't stare. They'd puff up a bit, though. Their chests would rise and they'd add a little swagger to their step. Just in case she was watching.
    It became sort of a game, watching them, trying to see when they noticed her. I got pretty good at it. Even if she was on her stomach with her eyes closed, they'd get that strut, just in case.
    Most of them were wearing sunglasses so I couldn't see their eyes. I could see them watching her, though. Their heads would still turn, just a bit.
    I sat there hiding my erection with crossed legs, pretending I was staring out over the ocean. I knew what they were thinking. I knew what possibilities they were imagining, what they would do to her if they had her alone. It's what men do. The idea that they were thinking about it while staring at my wife made my blood boil and my insides churn.
    The nagging question about what had happened after I'd fallen asleep didn't help.
    Every time I saw one of them look over at her, I thought of the smile she'd given me when I asked her about last night. The feelings seemed to amplify one another until by the time we went in for lunch, I was confused and turned on and craving release.
    I pulled her towards me greedily as soon as we stepped into the room.
    My affection was met with giggles. Giggles. When did she start giggling so much?
    "Oh Andrew, we just did that this morning. Remember?"
    "Sure I do. Doesn't mean we can't do it again."
    "I guess you're right," she conceded, smiling at me. "What's gotten all in a state again?"
    Her hand drifted down my front and settled on my cock.
    I was stiff as a rock.
    "Did you enjoy the beach?" I brought her closer, leaned in and kissed her shoulder. Her skin was hot from the sun.
    "You know I love the beach..."
    She trailed off as I pressed my lips to her neck. I kissed her a little more.
    "What do you think about? When you're lying in the sun like that?"
    I felt her smile. She hummed a few notes of some made up melody. "I don't know...seashells?"
    Yeah. Right.
    "What do you think about, sitting in the shade like a big grumpy ogre?" she teased.
    "You," I answered right away.
    "Me?" She seemed surprised. "What about me?" She pulled away. I looked into her eyes.
    "You. The way men walking by look at you. The way their chests rise, in case you're looking. I think about what they'd do to you, if they could have you."
    The old Samantha, the one from back home, would have slapped me just then. Or rolled her eyes and gone to the bathroom or something. This one didn't. This one smiled.
    "What do you think they'd do to me?" she whispered.
    It drove me wild.
    I thought about the previous night again. I thought of asking her, for real this time, what had happened after I'd passed out. I decided against it. It would have killed the mood. There had to be another way to find out.
    "Did you enjoy dinner last night?" I asked, pressing my lips against her neck in a kiss. She tilted her head.
    "I suppose it was alright. I didn't really like the part where you got drunk." she teased. Her body was liquid, willing and ready.
    "Did you enjoy our chef?" I ventured. I felt her tense.
    "What do you mean?" she asked with a giggle.
    "I mean did you enjoy Bastian? He's quite a man."
    When she answered, there was mischief in her eyes.
    "He was quite friendly," she said, nodding.
    "Tell me?"
    "Tell you what?" she asked. She knew exactly what I wanted to hear.
    "He's a fine man, don't you think?"
    She smirked. "I suppose. Is that what you had in mind?" she asked.
    "In mind? What mind?"
    Her eyes locked onto mine. "Is that what you had in mind for me?" She was suddenly serious.
    I felt an anxiety well inside me, filling my insides.
    "So you've thought about it?"
    Her lips turned up in another smirk. She lifted a leg, peeled off the sandal she was wearing. Then the other. Then she sank down in front of me, onto her knees. "I remember you, Andrew Smith, asking me a very lewd thing,