Iberian Orgy
White, sheer curtains billow in the warm, salty breeze and I can just make out the palm trees and clear water of Barceloneta Beach. I am elevated on a pedestal. Not like a golden idol, but high enough to allow for worship of my imperfections. My nudity is a power and it is now being wielded to fulfill a long-held, yet evolving fantasy. My soft belly and stretch marks mean I have grown life within my body and have experienced both famine and feast. My thighs are solid foundations that have carried me through life’s ups and downs.
My husband and I arrived in Barcelona last week and have been exploring the countryside and nightlife. Olives on Montjüic, cockles at a bodega, clams and mussels by the sea, seafood paella at an indoor market, and a Valrhona chocolate dessert that brought our waiter to his knees when I ordered it. The same waiter who recommended the brothel where we met the men that agreed to take part in today’s feast.
One-by-one, beautiful young men begin to circle my place of repose until I am fully surrounded by sun-kissed skin. Beautiful is too tame a description. These men are Greek sculptures come to life. Chiseled and tan with just enough hair to make me want to follow it down the swells of their abdominals—their muscles! I want to dance my hands and mouth over them. I drink them in as they circle around my pedestal and peruse my curves with soft smiles and hungry eyes. I squirm under their intense gazes as their looks send pulses straight to my clit.
They lay their hands on me and whisper in my ears and along my neck—“beautiful” in Catalan (bonic) and Spanish (hermosa), “wet pussy” in Catalan (cony humit) and Italian (figa bagnata), “open your mouth” in Portuguese (abra sua boca)—as they begin to gently rub and skim along my skin which erupts in goosebumps. I glance around the room and notice when my husband steps through the door. He bites his lower lip as his eyes find mine.
I slam my eyes shut. I want to feel everything. I want to focus on the hands on my hot flesh without wondering if any of them belong to my husband. Does seeing me pleased, please him? I know that it does. We have played enough times that I know he can separate me “the wife” from me “the plaything”. We took this trip together to reconnect as we explore the world and each other. Is this really happening? This fantasy come true? Should I wave the others away and focus on my hus… Oh God! I can no longer think. I can only feel as a hot tongue embarrasses my former lovers by going where they never dared to conquer. I gasp and gulp and reach out to grasp at anything within reach. My hands find a hard, firm ass behind my head. Above my head. Suddenly, I am being kissed from both above and below. Upside down and oh so fucking right side up. More hands and mouths descend upon me.
I am being caressed and squeezed. Broad hands stroke my skin all over. This is what I have wanted. The more hands on me the better. Hands in my hair, on my breasts, on and between my thighs, massaging my sensitive feet. I squirm as I lean into the touches to deepen the sensations. I am pushing myself in different directions chasing the touch. Fingers explore as tongues are adding to my heightened awareness. I am gushing and my juices are being lapped up giving life to everyone involved.
I hear moaning and heavy breathing. I am responsible for many of these sounds, but not all. The men exchange touches and caresses among themselves as my hands cannot keep up with the need and desire. I look over to see two men kissing beside me which brings the heat in the room even higher. I am reaching for cocks and squeezing asses at a frantic pace.
Suddenly, I feel a cock at my lips. I open to the possibilities as a velvety smooth shaft enters my wetness. I am plunged into ecstasy as my mouth and my pussy are deliciously breached. I moan against the cock in my mouth as I feel deliciously used. My body sinks into the platform and my head floats higher and higher. My pussy pulses around the thick, uncut cock driving into me with a slow, steady, maddening pace. Again, my hands roam and this time I find my husband beside me. I take over his strokes as he reaches over to twist and pinch my nipples. I’m climbing higher and higher as my cheeks tingle and the moans being wrung from my body become further away.
The hands and mouth and cocks all fall away. Footsteps retreat as my heart rate returns to medically safe levels. I venture a peek and see my husband returning to me. My eyes fall shut again and I relax into his touch. While other mens’ exotic touch is exciting, his erotic touch is soothing. His hands brush against my neck as he moves my hair to the side and leans in to kiss the back of my neck and down my spine. As his mouth moves along my body, his hands explore my thighs and calves. Soft pressure and then hard. His fingers kneed my flesh and his nails rake along my skin. I am once again a heavy breathing, writhing mess as he plays my body like I am an instrument and he is a maestro.
He knows when to touch and when to step back and make me wait. His touch grounds me and brings me back to him. To us. I can feel the energy of his love for me and I roll over onto my stomach and he caresses my legs. Soft touch, firm hands.