A Holiday Purchase

After my wife was chatted up by another man, we had a huge argument about it, with me calling her insensitive, and her calling me jealous. The whole thing was very arousing, and inspired me to write this story. Positive and constructive comments and discussion are welcome. Anonymous, abusive, destructive, or negative comments will be deleted.

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A beautiful wife is seduced on holiday by an older married man.

A two week holiday on a beautiful Spanish beach was just the thing for me and my wife Sally. Following an intense period of work for both of us, we agreed some time in the sun would help to recharge each other's batteries. We had given the kids to Sally's parents, which meant peace and quiet. I still had a mountain of reports to complete for the electronics firm I worked for, but at least I could do those in the sun.

Sally had booked the holiday in a hurry, and we had no real idea of what to expect when we arrived. But the apartment was large, air-conditioned, and practically brand spanking new. Although there was no sea view from the first floor balcony, we had a great view of the pool and the short cut green grass that surrounded it.

"Harry, I think we'll be just fine here," Sally said to me as I heaved the suitcases on to the bed.

After we'd unpacked, showered and changed, we took a stroll down the dusty streets to the beech front. Sally looked fabulous in a short-sleeved yellow summer dress, which was, I noticed, just translucent enough for me to see her thin white bra that held those wonderfully large breasts in place. She had let down her long auburn hair, which, without having time to apply her straighteners, still had waves and kinks. The bars were open, and families strolled up and down the sea front watching jugglers or listening to street buskers.

We took a soft couch at the front of a bar that overlooked a series of tall palms, ordered a beer each, and sighed as the coolness slid down. The sun was setting and lights across bay flickered on. We sipped our second and third cold ones.

Some time later, we staggered and giggled our way back toward the apartment. I'd had my arm around her waist, casually letting my hand slip to her ass, as we wandered though the crowds. I noticed the number of men casually glance first at Sally's face, and then down to her breasts that continued to try escaping her dress. My cock stirred as I loved men looking at her, and I loved to show her off. There was something about parading her round in sexy clothes that turned me on. Sally was usually quite self conscious, especially about her large, round breasts. She was a petite five feet two, with a tiny back, but a huge 30EE bra cup.

I was practically busting my shorts as we finally got back to the apartment. The first thing Sally did was to slip off her dress.

"Whew. It's so warm."

She stepped out on to the balcony, clad only in matching bra and knickers. She stood looking over the pool.

"Why don't you go down for a dip?" I said, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms round her waist.

"Mmmm," she murmured. I slipped my hands up to cup those gorgeous pillows encased beneath white lace. "Not here, Harry. Someone might see."

"No they wont. It's midnight. Anyway, they're all families in this block. Nobody will be looking."

My right hand moved down her belly to the top of her panties.

"Harry. Stop it!"

My hand moved below the fabric to her shaven mound. Her hips pressed back and she sighed.

I unfastened her bra with my other hand, and eased out her lovely melons. Her nipples raised at my touch.

"Let's go in to the bedroom," she said, ever the shy one.

"No. I'm going to do it to you here."

"No..." she protested, but I eased her down to the sun lounger, turning her on to her back, and feasting on her bosom. She gasped loudly, and stuffed her hand in her mouth, as she knew what was coming next.

Sally loves the feel of hand or mouth on her breasts. There are times when I have made her orgasm just from rubbing her nipple in a certain way, or taking as much of one breast in my mouth as I can. I've made her cum by massaging her neck with my thumb, and teasing her nipple with my other hand. Even in public places like on a train, in a café, or just walking in the country, I know her sweet spots and can nearly always switch them on like a light. Once on a bus, I was massaging the top of her thigh under her skirt. By the time our stop arrived, she was so aroused that she was shaking from head to toe uncontrollably.

My cock sprang out and up, and was soon between Sally's moist flesh, slipping easily inside her. I pounded her hard and enthusiastically, her breasts bouncing, little moans and groans escaping her lips. My rhythm built and built, as her moans became louder, echoing over the air across the pool, before I spent myself inside her.

I was a little embarrassed at cumming so soon for her, and I could tell she was more than a little disappointed. I thought I might be able to get hard for her again, but soon found myself drifting off to sleep.

The next morning Sally headed down to the pool to start cultivating her tan, whilst I started on the raft of reports I had to compile. There was a lot of data to process and I became pretty involved for several hours.

Just after lunch, I grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge and wandered out on to he balcony. Sally was lazing on a sun lounger in a tiny yellow bikini, chatting to a couple who had parked themselves next to her. They were about 20 years older than us. She was short and a little plump, whilst he was tall, muscular, and looked like he kept himself in shape. The three were drinking wine from a cooler, and were laughing away as though they were old friends.

I finished my beer and returned to my reports. With any luck I figured I should have them completed within a day or two, and then I would be able to get some sun myself.

An hour or so later, I took another beer and wandered back out on to the balcony. There was no sign of the woman who had been there, but the man was liberally applying sun tan lotion to Sally who was lying on her front on the sun lounger. He gave her back and shoulders a thorough massage, before undoing her bikini top. I thought that Sally would object to this, with her prudish side kicking in. But maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just that she was so relaxed, but she seemed to be enjoying his touch.

His hands wandered all over her back, the tops of her buttocks, and then began work on her legs. First her calves, then the backs of her thighs and then to the tops of her legs just below her bikini bottoms. Her head rose off the sun lounger, and she said something to him. Maybe she was protesting, I couldn't really hear. But he kept on with his massage, that was becoming more intimate by the moment.

My cock started to harden, knowing that her juices would be flowing in preparation. I decided I'd better rescue her. Sally is sometimes far too polite to say no. I saved my work, and grabbed the apartment keys. It took about five minutes to get down the stairs, and round to the back of the apartment to the pool. By the time I'd arrived, the massage had stopped, possibly interrupted by the arrival of the man's wife.

Her name was Barbara, I learned, and his was Simon. They owned one of the large apartments opposite ours on the top floor. Sally had evidently become firm friends with them both, and we were invited out to dinner.

"There's a fabulous restaurant on the Marina," said Simon. "They do fantastic lobster."

And so it was that Sally and I sampled the lobster at the restaurant with Barbara and Simon that evening. He was a retired telecoms magnet, had made his fortune making television companies, and had property throughout Europe. They were both dressed immaculately, he in a white cotton shirt, she in a flowing pale blue linen dress, each with a decorative 'S' brand logo in the left breast - an expensive designer label, I guessed. He dominated the conversation over his quiet little wife, who sat smiling and giggling throughout dinner.

Afterwards, they took us down to their boat, moored just two minutes from the restaurant. Simon enjoyed fishing, so the rear deck was set up with poles and fishing equipment. A pair of small doors led down to a tiny galley, and beyond a bedroom with a massive double bed. It struck me as being slightly odd that such a small boat had a huge bed, but, as Barbara pointed out, they liked to be comfortable when they were away from home.

Simon and Barbara then invited us back to their apartment for drinks. We wandered back up through the shops, which were still open for late evening shoppers. These were exclusive designer shops, with four figure price tags that were way outside the price range of Sally and I.

Nevertheless, Barbara and Sally enjoyed dipping in and out of the shops, trying on shoes, looking at handbags, and holding up dresses that cost more that the GDP of some African countries.

"Look at this!" Sally held up a white linen dress. Long and flowing, with a halter neck, and a plunging back.

"You would look stunning in that," commented Simon.

"And we would have yet another mortgage," I quipped.

Sally spun round and round with it mocked up against her.

Back at their flat, Simon poured me a Scotch and the ladies made themselves cocktails. After the third, or was it the forth, I found myself on their balcony, looking down on to the pool, and trying to figure out which was our own apartment.

"It's a lovely view from up here," said Simon, who joined me. "And she's a lovely woman."

"Thanks," I slurred.

"It must take a lot to keep her happy."

"What do you mean? I don't think so."

"Well, women like that loved to be looked after, you know? You have to keep them, and lavish them with love and attention."

"Yeah." I had no idea what he was getting at.

"Of course, you're careful, aren't you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you're not careful, somebody else might lavish more attention on her than you, and then..."

He left the words having in their air, but I still wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"I'm not sure..." I stuttered. "I know Sally loves me."

"Of course, of course. But don't you think that women can be bought away from their husbands?"

"No. Not Sally."

"Not with money. Nothing as vulgar as that. But ladies like things, don't they? A man who can click his fingers and produce wonderful things for her, will always be attractive to a woman like Sally."

"Nah, nah. You're wrong."

"Not at all. I'll bet you that a woman like Sally could be tempted away from her loving husband. All she needs is the right...motivation, I'd bet."

"No, I bet she wouldn't. I mean, I know she wouldn't."

"Would you place that bet? Are you a betting man, Harry?"

"Yes, I mean, I am..." I liked a few notes on the horses sometimes, is what I was trying to say, when the ladies joined us. I realised that Simon had taken my hand and shaken.

"Oooh look," Sally pointed. "You can see our apartment, and right down on to our balcony."

The next morning, I had the mother of all hangovers, and spent the day in bed. By mid day Sally told me she was going over to Barbara and Simon's flat. I didn't really care, as my head was exploding and my stomach was doing its best to climb down into the toilet.

Late in the afternoon, sipping a pint of water, I stood on the balcony looking down at the pool. It was still baking and the heat haze was too intense. Glancing upwards I tried to pick out the apartment of Barbara and Simon. It must be the middle one, directly in line with ours, I thought. There was perhaps some movement up there, but I couldn't really focus properly.

The doorbell rang, and it was Barbara, who had brought me some fresh orange juice from the nearby market. I thanked her and we chatted for a few minutes, and I told her that I hoped Sally hadn't been too unwelcome.

"Oh I've been at the market all day," said Barbara. "I love it there." She showed me the bags of food she'd bought.

Suddenly, I had a rising panic. Sally was alone with Simon in their apartment, and as far as I could figure, had been alone with him all day.

"Let me give you a hand back to your apartment with some of those bags." I grabbed two of them.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

But I was already at the stairs.

Barbara rabbited away at me, as I tried to hurry her up, crossing the pool area and over to the lift. It seemed to take an age to arrive, and then almost as long to reach the fifth floor.

Barbara rang their doorbell.

"Don't you have a key?"

She shook her head.

It was a while before anyone answered. Simon appeared, dressed in a pair brief Speedos and a toweling dressing gown. I couldn't help but notice, as his gown flopped open, that his cock was in a state of semi arousal.

I scanned the apartment for Sally, but couldn't see her anywhere. I drifted out on to the balcony, but she wasn't there, only two sun loungers, three empty bottles of wine, and two empty wine glasses.

Just then I heard her voice. She was talking to Barbara in the kitchen. She must have come from one of the other rooms, I guessed. It was clear that she had been on the receiving end of much of the wine from those three bottles, and the way her bikini was fitting her looked like she'd thrown it on in a hurry. A tiny white bikini, leaving little to the imagination, was one I hadn't seen her in before. It had the decorative 'S' logo in black over her left breast.

It took a while to say our good buys, but eventually I dragged her out of their apartment and back to our own. I tried to ask her how long she had been alone with Simon, and why she had gotten so drunk, and what the hell had she been doing. But she wasn't making any coherent sense, and so I tried putting her to bed. But she wasn't having any of it and breezed out on to the balcony, saying she wanted to taste the evening air.

I fetched a couple of glasses of cold juice from the kitchen, and handed one to her. She was stood with her back to me, leaning on to the balcony railing and staring up into the sky. Suddenly I realised she had her hand down the front of her bikini bottoms, and was masturbating furiously. She turned and stared into my eyes with a look of hunger I'd never seen before. In a moment she was all over me, kissing me deeply, and pushing me back on the sun lounger. The drinks went flying, the glass smashing on the floor. The normally obsessive Sally would usually have stopped, cursed, and set about cleaning it up. But this time she ignored the mess and pulled down my shorts, gathering my limp cock in her mouth. I lay back on the lounger and groaned in pleasure. If hot weather and alcohol were going to turn my wife into a nymphomaniac, then so be it.

I was bucking away and quickly ready to cum. Sally must have sensed this, for she slowed her assault on me, and stopped. She straddled me, pulling her bikini bottoms to one side, and in one deft movement slid my shaft inside her. She was so very very wet, and my hardness met no resistance, sliding all the way in with ease. I watched her riding me, her hips rocking away rhythmically, her mouth open, head back, staring up into the sky.

This was amazing. Truly out of character for her, a complete and almost sudden transformation.

My hands rose to cup her breasts, which I knew she loved. But she pushed my hands and arms down by my side. Cupping her own breasts, her hands slid underneath her bikini, as she rolled her nipples between thumb and finger. Then she was reaching round behind her, and whipped off her bikini top. I gasped, as I knew her top half could probably be seen, should there be anyone watching from an apartment higher then ours. Again I tried to take her breasts in my hand, but she slapped me away, as if she didn't want my hands to be seen. Whimpering noises escaped from her lips, as she ground in to me, and pummelled her own tits. I knew I couldn't last much longer, and grabbed her hips, pulling her on to me. Her hands glided up over the sweating skin of her chest, across her cheeks, and up the sides of her head, running them through that gorgeous hair. Her pendulous double E mammories bounced away as we fucked, and she continued staring out over the balcony, like she was fixated by something high above us.

I came, quickly, and quietly. And as I came down from orgasm, I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, kiss her, and thank her. But the look she gave me was deflating, and acidic.

She rolled off me and headed to the shower.

"Oh, shit," I cursed to myself, wondering how the hell I was supposed to have lasted any longer and given her satisfaction.

The next day, I decided to spend some time with her. She wanted to be at the poolside, so I joined her for the morning. We had lunch at a little cafe on the beach, and then back to our apartment for a siesta.

Sally told me it was my turn to make dinner, and sent me off to the supermarket with a substantial shopping list. It was whilst I was trying to decipher the Spanish meat counter, that I bumped into Barbara. She explained at great length about the Paella she would be making. I kept glancing around for Simon, but it was evident that she was on her own.

Barbara asked me to help her carry some of her bags back to her apartment. By the time I had sweated the half hour walk in the evening heat, and I dumped the heavy bags in her kitchen, my arms were busting.

"I'll fix you a cocktail, Harry."

I wandered out on to the balcony. It was getting late, the sun had just about set, and the lights around the poolside were glowing. I scanned the opposite apartments, and thought I could spot ours. Was there movement on our balcony? Was that a pair of man's buttocks heaving up and down on a sun lounger?

It came to me too slowly that Simon had not been in their apartment when Barbara and I had arrived with the shopping. I leapt back in to the living room, looking for signs of him. In the kitchen, Barbara was mixing a cocktail. I made an excuse to visit the bathroom, but he wasn't there either. Passing back through the living room, on my way to check the bedroom, I heard a cry from outside. I dashed to the balcony and stared down toward our apartment. There it was again. A woman's cry, or was it more of a loud moan? A slow, steady, rhythmical moan of sexual pleasure. It was too dark to see anything clearly, and I figured my eyes would be playing tricks with me anyway. And it was impossible to locate the source of the moan, which could have been coming from any of the dozen apartments across the way.

I jumped back in to the kitchen, where Barbara was still messing with the cocktail shaker.

"So, where's Simon this evening?" I asked.

Barbara looked quizzically at me. "He's been out most of the day, I think. He'll probably be along anytime."

I pulled my mobile from my pocket and dialed Sally's number. It went to voicemail. I sent her a text: 'Hi babe. Be home in 5. Ring me.'

"Harry, where are you going? You haven't had your cocktail!"

But I wasn't interested in cocktails. The lift was ages in coming. I took the stairs instead, three at a time. Halfway down I rang Sally's number again: 'Hi this is Sally. If you want to leave me a message, that's cool.'

I sprinted out the bottom of the door, and across the space between the two blocks. The woman's moans had turned to distinct screams, almost as though she were in pain.

The outer door to the block was locked. I rattled the handle several times, banged hard on the door, and stared at my watch. It was ten past nine. I pressed the buzzer to our apartment, and waited for what seemed liken age. I pressed it again, harder, and longer.

Like an idiot, I realised I had the key with me. I scrambled the pocket of my shorts for the keys, and spent the next minute in the dim light trying to figure out which of the several weird shaped keys fitted the lock. After that I was inside, and leaping the stairs to the first floor.