Compromising Positions: A Fantasy

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Caption

This is a story born of a role-play exchange in the forums of a futanari-interest website, hence the credit to the other player.

© 2010 Bishiebunny and GingerM

Act 1 – A Fortuitous Meeting

He wanted to visit Ireland, see the castles, the green hills, visit a pub and maybe explore his roots. She wanted Cancun, to hit the beaches and drink exotic drinks served with frilly umbrellas and fake fruit. In the end, they compromised.

They went to Cancun.

He wanted to spend their first day just sleeping off jet-lag in their hotel suite. Maybe relax by the hot-tub, and get a late dinner, after making love for the first, official time. Official because, at his age, there was no point in holding off until after rings were exchanged. Still, it would only be their third time and given the rough suddenness of the first, and the wicked, on-the-sly moment that was their second, he was looking for something more romantic this time.

He was looking to make love to his beautiful, bashful bride.

His bride, beautiful, but not really one to be all that full of bash, was walking along the beach. That was what she wanted, so of course, they had “compromised” again. She did look lovely, the sunlight shimmering off her tanned skin. She was like a child, looking for a bit of sand to turn into a mighty castle. With her tiny bathing suit and flirty behavior, she was certainly erecting many fine structures out on the coast.

Of course, none of those fleshy towers were made of sand.

He was a few steps behind her, trying his damnedest not to burn under that God-awful sun. His glasses were dark, his nose was white with lotion, and he was currently wearing a black Hawaiian shirt, with white pants, the cuffs pulled up over his ankles. Looking at his wife made him smile. Looking at the other men who were looking at his wife made him smile a little less.

He was smaller than most of the bigger, muscle-bound, Speedo-clad man-boys that populated the beach, but there was definitely an air about him. He looked like the sort of man that had friends, friends in dark alleys; friend who carried the hardware needed to make size matter little, if at all. And so the men watched, but kept their distance.

He appreciated that. The last thing he wanted to do was have his honeymoon ruined because of men behaving like boys. He blinked, realizing that he had lost sight of his wife. Suddenly, he felt her warm, tanned body collide with his much paler one.

“Oh god, oh god! Nathan! She is absolutely GORGEOUS!” His wife virtually squealed, her short-ish blonde hair brushed out of her face as she chewed on a plump, pink-painted bottom lip. “We have got to go over there and talk to her. Oh please?”

Nathan sighed and turned to the way his wife was gyrating with her round little bottom and had a look. To his credit, he did not whistle. In fact, looking at him, you could hardly tell there was much of a reaction all. In fact, you would have to be pressed against his white pants, like his wife was, to see just how interested he was in what he saw.

She squealed, feeling her husband’s bulge pumping in his pants. With a giggle, she cooed in a sultry voice, “Mmmmm, does daddy like what he sees? Can we talk to her?”

Nathan really did not want to. He was enjoying the sight, but honestly, the last thing he wanted on his honeymoon was temptation. But Cynthia really seemed interested for some reason. Whatever was on her mind?

As usual, they compromised. As usual, Cynthia got her way. The couple made their way over to the sunning beauty that had attracted even more attention in her lounger than the tanned blonde had.

The pair stood, only a few feet away, looking at a woman so beautiful, neither of them knew what to say.

She was blissfully content. For the first time in quite a while, the young woman was able to relax completely. Normally her work at BGSC had a distinctly unpleasant habit of following her even after the working day was over, sometimes intruding into weekends and vacation. Not this time, though. This time she had left her ‘crackberry’ behind, and set forth for her holiday with only a prepaid cell to keep her in touch with the world. In keeping with this philosophy, the phone had been off for the majority of the week; indeed, she realized sleepily, she had completely forgotten it for this morning’s foray to the beach.

She had wanted to go to Hawaii, but her budget hadn’t run quite to that extent. Cancun, however, had been well within her means, and it was certainly tropical enough to suit her wish to lie on a beach, drinking cocoanut-flavoured rum drinks and de-stressing. Besides, she could always dress – or undress, as appropriate – as if she was in Hawaii, as long as she didn’t take it too far. Thus, her attire consisted of a sarong riding low – very low – on her hips, and a lei positioned strategically on her bust, so that local mores would not be irretrievably offended.

Someone’s awfully excited, she mused illegal bahis as a high-pitched female voice squealed nearby, disturbing her sun-worshipping. She rolled her head slightly toward the voice, squinting in the glare of the sun. Her lei slipped somewhat off its rather precarious perch atop her breasts, and she reached up to adjust it. This was Mexico, after all, and while this beach was for the touristas, nevertheless a certain amount of modesty was expected – and she was already pushing that boundary hard, between her sarong and the lei. The lei slipped again, and she gave it up as a bad job. Apparently this was her cue to get up. Her lei slid back into place as she raised herself on her elbows. Her dusky skin, almost toast-coloured, had acquired a slight sheen of sweat from the time spent in the brilliant tropical. With an almost automatic reflex, she reached up and adjusted the single white camellia she wore over her right ear, the stem tucked carefully into the heavy mane of fiery, waist-length hair which rippled like a mass of living flame.

A few feet away stood an oddly-matched couple, both looking intently at something just past her – no, at her, she realized. Intrigued, she looked them over in return. The blonde woman was clinging to the older gentleman in a way that made her think “sugar daddy” at first, but she quickly revised that first impression. The couple was clearly in love. He was shorter than many of the other beach-boys, older, a mature man instead of a boy in a man’s frame, and she found herself studying him. He had a lean, whipcord toughness about him; she suddenly had the impression that he had walked some dangerous roads during his life.

She slid one leg up, and then froze as a soft zephyr of breeze played over her body, reminding her that she was in fact wearing absolutely nothing under her sarong, and that she had nearly flashed the entire beach. This would have drawn no more than a few censorious looks from the local self-appointed ‘propriety police’ for most, but in her case would likely have inspired shock and awe, followed by tarring and feathering and being ridden out of town on a rail, or the local equivalent. She let her leg slide gently back down, and then rolled to sit up on the lounger, her lips curving in a friendly, open smile at the couple.

“Hello,” she greeted them, her head cocked slightly to one side. “I’m Erin.”

Nathan gave what amounted to a smile for the hard-lined, hard-lived older man. He was not the sort to squander emotion and he kept his smiles in the same internal lockbox as his tears. At best, it could be said that his face got more pleasant. Perhaps open was a better way of looking at it.

Of course, with the sun set to broil his pale, Irish features, the change in expression might have simply been a wince.

Whatever the cause, he waited for Cynthia to say something. Not only was this her flight of fancy, she had long since established herself as the spokeswoman of the pair. This had suited Nathan just fine. He preferred being the strong, silent type. He liked to think, to consider and when he finally put thought into sound, he preferred it to have some weight to it. For instance, he did not often say, “I love you,” but when he did, it had the feel of something solid, heavy, and eternal.

However as a pleasant pause began to twist into an awkward silence, he found himself looking toward his wife. Was that a blush? His bouncy lover was suddenly the quiet one; suddenly she had found whatever shame that was to be had in her free spirit. Nathan realize that the young woman had taken the peek he had not dared take.

Neither of them could have missed that chance slip, nor doubt the promise offered by a quick glance. Nathan had resisted, though not without a bit of internalized struggle. He was not the sort of man to sneak peeks, but they were out in Cancun, after all. The entire beach was one big peek.

It would have tempted any man. It would have tempted just about any woman. It certainly had tempted his wife and apparently, she had succumbed to it, gleefully.

Whatever hidden delights she had found she was keeping to herself.

Finally, Nathan rolled his eyes from behind his sunglasses and spoke. “Oh, English. Good; the last thing anyone wants to hear is an old man mangling a romantic tongue.” He paused a moment, looking at his wife again.

She seemed to be busily chewing on her bottom lip and one hand was rubbing against his chest. He blinked, caught her hand by the wrist and began to run his thumb along her palm. It was a soothing gesture and he hoped it calmed his wife down. On the other hand, as excited as she seemed, he also hoped that perhaps the afternoon’s encounter would lead to a particularly pleasant evening.

First things first. He needed to address the woman before them and stop looking like such a fool. “My wife was just,” he paused, thinking, looking over the attractive woman. It did not really help. Erin was not only attractive, there was a sensual quality illegal bahis siteleri to her that made the older man feel downright plain and ordinary by comparison. The sun did not strike and bounce off her body as it might his. Instead, it danced about her curves, kissing her perspiration with lighted lips.

Following those rays of light, he finally found the excuse he was looking for. “She was just admiring your skirt and was wondering where you had picked it up. I promised her that if they sold them anywhere nearby, we would find her one.”

Cynthia looked up at her husband, and then flashed a bright smile Erin’s way. It was an odd smile, a sort of secret smile, the type that should be shared by two pranksters, in on the same joke. “Sarong, sweetie, and I doubt she got it nearby.” The woman pulled away from the older man and stepped closer.

The older man sighed, watching his wife. Only ten feet away and yet she might as well have been on the bottom of the ocean. They had known one another for only a couple of years, and had tumbled into their marriage on what Nathan still believed was a young man’s daydream. It still surprised him how lost he felt without her.

“Don’t mind my husband. He’s terribly shy and trying to be a good boy, and keep his eyes on me.” Cynthia had no problem smiling. In fact, her smile was bright and infectious. “Nathan and Cynthia Dowell, newlyweds, as if you couldn’t tell. And you are just about the most beautiful woman either of us have ever seen.”

Nathan stepped forward at that, his voice going low, “Err, honey?”

Cynthia turned and gave her partner that same smile, the one that she used to get her way. “Oh, settle down, Nathan. She’s heard it a million times already and probably in much ruder ways.”

“Sorry – Erin Lochiel, I should say, and a pleasure to meet you both,” she smiled, deciding to encourage whatever might be arising. Her smile widened to a grin, her face taking on a pixie air. “You’re right, Cynthia; I’ve heard just about every variation of ‘hey gorgeous’ going, but I don’t mind frank, honest appreciation. Particularly when it’s not expressed in gangsta-speak.”

“As for my sarong,” she went on, unconsciously smoothing the silk draped over a richly-bronzed thigh, “I couldn’t tell you where it came from originally – though I think,” she looked at the red-throated hibiscus pattern on the fabric – “it’s probably from Hawaii, originally. It was a gift from a co-worker just before I left, you see.”

Erin picked up a small woven handbag from the pristine sand by her lounger, and stood up. The sun having passed the zenith, her face and front was cast slightly into shadow, and the strong tropical sunlight framed her with a faint nimbus of golden light. She tossed her head to clear an errant lock of hair from her eyes, and the luxuriant mass of living fire rippled, reaching to the small of her back.

She, for her part, continued to examine this chance-met couple. Cynthia was definitely coming on to her, but was Nathan also? If so, he was doing it in a rather more sophisticated way, playing keep-away-closer, and the combined effect of the blonde’s frank attention and Nathan’s indirect interest made for an intriguing effect. He was, she realized, much harder under his ‘tired-middle-aged-man-having-midlife-crisis’ look. The way he held himself, the wiry musculature of his body told her there were as-yet unknown depths to his character and experience. As for Cynthia, she made up for her youth with a refreshing zest and disarmingly direct approach. She, Erin felt, was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and was determined to get it – and if that meant dragging her new husband into and out of adventures, well that was just what was going to happen, so he might as well relax and enjoy it.

“I think I’ve had enough sun for now,” she said, fishing in her bag, “but I just can’t get into the idea of siesta. Perhaps we could get some lunch together? I’m staying at Casa del Sol…” she trailed off, momentarily hesitant, and then went on. “Can I ask where you’re staying?”

Cynthia giggled softly, leaning toward the taller woman. “Oh, Nathan can. He can get into a siesta like nobody’s business. Though I suppose, in his case, it’s more like hibernating, isn’t it sweetie?”

There were many things you might call the older man. ‘Sweetie’ would not make the top one-hundred. Still, his face seemed to light up when she addressed him. It was subtle and you had to be looking for it, but there was a tension about him, a screw that turned, which relaxed under the warmth of her grin. In fact, he seemed to unclench a bit, walking a little closer himself.

He had some idea what his wife wanted, though, he had no idea it was the sort of thing she would do more than daydream about. He certainly could not fault her taste, and if one was going to spice up a honeymoon, this was certainly the right way to do it. Still, he wondered just how far she would take her little flight of fantasy.

Surely canlı bahis siteleri it would end before the hotel room door, yes?

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was her husband she was really flirting with. All of this tease, just to make her elder lover blush. Well, it was an easy game to play. Why not see just how far she was willing to take it?

“Sweet of you to say Erin, but I get the feeling we interrupted your sun bathing. If you really don’t mind indulging my wife’s little crush, please, let us pay for your lunch.” His face brightened up a bit more, enjoying the game, now that he had his own piece in. “The hotel we’re staying at has this nice, shaded area where they serve light lunches, cold beers and it has got a couple of fountains, if anyone’s in the mood for wishing.”

Cynthia stuck out her tongue. “You just want some shade. And I can see why, your cheeks are beginning to look like Erin’s hair.” She giggled and reached up, pinching one, before leaning into her husband. Turning back toward Erin, she gave the ravishing beauty an unreadable, yet obviously meaningful, look. “The fountains are wasted, though. I already have my wish.”

The other man winced a bit at the pinch, and then looked down at his wife curiously. Alright then, so lunch with a beautiful stranger it was. If they were going to continue with this game, he could think of less attractive “opponents.”

With a nod, he gestured to Erin and offered to take her bag, “Shall we?”

Oh my… this is turning very interesting, Erin reflected. She read the expression on Cynthia’s face, recalled to mind the odd little smile she had worn a few moments ago. Maybe I wasn’t quite quick enough just now… did she see me? Does she know? Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brow furrowed as she pursued the thought. If she did… but she’s not backing off. Maybe she didn’t see anything after all – or else she likes it…? She shook herself briefly, sending a sinuous ripple down her body, making her breasts sway enticingly.

“Thank you, Nathan! That’s a delightful idea, and a generous offer. If you’re both sure I wouldn’t be in the way, this being your honeymoon?” She surrendered her handbag to Nathan, accepting his gruff courtliness as they left the beach and started down the promenade. “I need to stop at the del Sol briefly,” she mentioned. “I don’t think I can really sit down to lunch in this outfit. If you both wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll be just a few minutes.”

Erin was as good as her word, reappearing in the hotel lobby within five minutes. Her attire, though covering her more than her sarong, left little to the imagination. She had changed into a short dress of cool, filmy ice-green linen, cut with a moderate v-neck. The skirt of the dress was, at most, mid-thigh – and quite a bit higher in places, being finished in a ragged hem. She had added white stockings in a delicate lace pattern, and silver, high-heeled open-toed sandals.

“Okay – now I won’t frighten horses,” she quipped as she rejoined Cynthia and Nathan. She slipped her arm through Nathan’s on one side as Cynthia flanked him on the other.

The trio strolled further down the promenade to Nathan and Cynthia’s hotel, chatting. Erin didn’t really want to mention work for fear it would somehow find a way to intrude on her holidays, but when asked, she couldn’t really just say “Oh, nothing really,” so she simply left it that she was a junior software engineer for a British firm that did a fair amount of defence contract work and that she really wasn’t at liberty to say much more than that. The friendly give-and-take of their conversation led her into revealing that she was an only child, 23 and single. “It’s just… well, it’s hard to get involved, for me,” she said, feeling that it rather understated her situation. It was nearly impossible for her to get involved with anyone else – not least because of the usual reaction.

It seemed, though, that there was an odd, electric undercurrent between the three of them, she felt. Though the talk remained light and casual, a subtle tension, an awareness of the couple ran through her thoughts and her nerves, spreading like warming fire through her body. This, she realized, is going to be either very bad… or terrifyingly good.

Cynthia squealed when she saw the latest outfit. She twirled her finger in a pointed gesture, teasingly as she leaned hard into her husband. “Oh Erin! You are going to have my husband thinking wicked thoughts all through lunch, wearing something like that. He adores pantyh-“

“Cynthia!” It was not quite a shout, more of a grunt. With anyone else, anyone other than his wife, it would have come with an implied threat and perhaps a tightening of those corded muscles that were not quite as aged as one might believe.

With Cynthia, it came out as a bit of a whimper.

His blonde wife made a little face and giggled. “You worry too much, sweetie. I don’t think she’s going to tell your friends back home.” Even as she teased, she slipped her hand around her husband’s back, stroking it lightly. Obviously she loved putting blushes on her stoic husband’s face, but she did it with absolute affection for him. “Besides, I am sure there will be time to talk about all of our individual kinks, later on.”

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