Bragging with the boys

A veil of silence cloaked Rachel and me in the aftermath of that enigmatic night. Breakfast became a charade of normalcy, a façade concealing the unspoken echoes reverberating between us. As a group, we ventured to the beach, a stage set for the unfolding drama of the day.

Rachel’s swimsuit, a revelation in black, clung to her like paint. A bustier that defied her usual modesty, accentuating the pale curvature of her tits, a daring departure from the norm. Yet, even in her audacity, she remained conservative compared to the other women, a collective spectacle in thong bikinis that left little to the imagination.

Katy, a provocative vision, sported a top so scant it defied gravity's modest demands. Her round mounds, an irresistible allure, beckoned attention. Our eyes locked, and with each stolen glance, a wink—a silent pact woven in the language of temptation.

Mimosas flowed, a temporary elixir to drown the unspoken. The guys and I, seeking refuge in the waves, passed around a football as if the night before were a distant mirage. Conversations swirled, the undertow of that clandestine night surfacing in fragments, leaving us to navigate the shifting currents of camaraderie and desire.

Nick started it out, “Ross I have to say you are the luckiest man alive. Last night Rachel gave me the most mind blowing head. The best of my life. I can’t imagine getting that on the regular.”

I don’t know how to respond. Embarrassment at the compliment, jealousy at the attention he received, angry that it was my wife who gave it to him. My wife’s sensual lips, which could so sweetly kiss mine, wrapped around my friend’s hard shaft. I say, “Yeah, she’s pretty good,” hoping they can tell I’m uncomfortable with this topic.

Nick disregarded any inflection in my answer, and continued in his praise of my wife’s sexual prowess. I focused on the waves, on the sound, the splash against my legs. Anything but the exploits of last night.

Zach’s large body bumping into me, brought me back to the present. He laughed and high fived Nick. “Dude. Now I’m so excited about tonight.”

Tonight, Zach’s date with my wife. Don’t think about that. Think about the thong clad petite blonde on the beach. Think about what you’ll do to her.

Zach laughed, and pointed toward the beach, “Oh shit she just rubbing that sun block on them just to taut us.”

My eyes moved from the tan plump cheeks of the blonde to the thin redhead who massaging lotion onto her soft chest. She lifted a swimsuit strap to coat the side of her breast. Was my wife doing this on purpose? Did she mean to tantalize my friends with her sexuality so they would ravish her harder tonight?

To change the subject from my wife I asked, “How was Katy? Not gonna lie, I’m pretty excited about tonight. She seems like she can get wild.”

Zach laughed, “Oh she can get wild. But it was good, she finally getting comfortable with me. The first time with her was rough. But it’s been an improvement each time.”

“Why was it rough,” I asked, curious and wanting to avoid any mistakes he made. I only had one shot. I needed her to worship my cock, and praise me like a god. Her ass clapping against my hips would be the only thing to take my mind off my wife.

Nick’s coarse comment, a vulgar interruption in the ocean's hushed conversation, jolted the camaraderie. "It’s because our man here has a fucking horse cock," he declared, a crass revelation slicing through the salty air.

Zach, a **** accomplice in this unsolicited disclosure, grinned with a sheepishness that barely concealed a hint of pride. His muscled shoulders bore the weight of unspoken truths, a silent acknowledgment of a realm beyond the spoken.

My gaze shifted, drawn back to the beach where Rachel lounged—a vision of slender grace, her long legs extending to a slim torso. The realization struck like a tidal wave. Fuck. The impending night loomed, a storm on the horizon, and the unspoken hung in the air like an unrelenting tempest. The delicate balance between anticipation and dread rippled through the atmosphere, leaving me suspended in the dissonance of desire and apprehension.