The ocean breeze kissed my golden brown skin as I laid out on the calming shores, the sun’s rays warming every inch of me. You, my stag husband, reclined next to me, watching me with that mix of pride and hunger you always carry—knowing I was yours but relishing the way others couldn’t help but notice me. You love how they admire me. How they struggle to with the thought of wanting to approach me but knowing they can't because I have a partner. It turns you on, as it does me my husband.
The day was perfect: crystal-clear waters, the soft waves, and the steady flow of cold, refreshing drinks brought by the cabana staff. One server, in particular, had taken to more than just delivering cocktails. His eyes lingered on me a moment too long, his compliments landing heavier than the breeze.
You noticed, of course. How could you not? He wasn’t exactly subtle. But rather than being annoyed, you leaned back with a smirk, your unspoken permission burning in the air between us.
I decided to indulge.
Standing up, I whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom.” I left you there, feigning nonchalance, but as I walked away, I glanced back to see if he’d follow. He did, right on cue, like a moth to a flame. The heat of his gaze made my pulse quicken, knowing exactly where this was leading.
In the cool privacy of the bathroom, his hands were on me before the door clicked shut. The rush of it—being desired, being devoured—was intoxicating. The comfort of being able to do such single activities while being happily married to the love of my life.... It just make feel like I might be water right outside the door. My pulse raced as I pulled him close. He worshipped me like a goddess, like he couldn’t believe his luck, and I let him. I let him worship every inch of my body.
Minutes passed, maybe more. I wasn’t keeping track. How could this sexy cabana boy was having his way with me. But back on the beach, you began to wonder. My absence stretched long enough for curiosity to turn into suspicion, so you followed.
When you reached the bathroom, muffled sounds escaped through the door—the unmistakable rhythm of bodies moving together, gasps and groans entwined. Your chest tightened, that wild mixture of jealousy and arousal spreading through you like fire.
You knocked, sharp and demanding. Inside, I froze, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “Wait here,” I whispered to him, adjusting my swimsuit and wiping my face—though not completely. I wanted you to see the evidence, to know exactly what I’d been up to.
When I opened the door, your eyes locked on me immediately, and there it was—the glisten on my lips, the flush on my cheeks... You knew what just happened. I had the telltale glow of satisfaction. I let the door hang open just enough for you to catch a glimpse of him inside, still catching his breath, disheveled and dazed.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence but unable to keep the smugness out of my voice.
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your eyes burned with possession, with hunger, with the need to remind me who I belonged to.
Without a word, you grabbed my hand, leading me back toward the beach, toward the privacy of our cabana. The drinks could wait. The rest of the world could wait. Now, it was your turn.
And oh, did you remind me...
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