Quote:
Originally Posted by
viper
Getting spicy… can’t wait for the next installation.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
haikim999
Is this a true or fantasy story?
Let’s just say that the core of it is true.
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CHAPTER 26.
[David’s perspective]
I sat alone at our table, the half-empty glass of retsina a lukewarm weight in my hand. From my vantage point, the dance floor was a blur of movement and shadows, but my eyes were locked onto two figures: Simon, tall and dark, and Amy, a streak of pale silk and liberated energy.
Watching another man’s hands roam over my wife’s body was a sensation I had fantasized about for years, but the reality was sharper than I’d expected. A hollow ache formed in my chest as I watched Simon’s fingers dig into her hips, pulling her jumpsuit so tight against her backside that the lack of any underwear became a public declaration. Seeing her head tilted back, her eyes closed in a trance of pleasure that I wasn’t currently providing, sent a momentary surge of possessiveness through me. I felt like an outsider looking into a world I had helped create but no longer fully inhabited.
But then, Amy turned. She didn’t look at Simon; she looked at me. She caught my gaze through the crowd and smiled–a broad smile that wasn’t for the men at the bar, but purely for me, evoking memories of past dates we had shared in times long ago. In that moment, the jealousy was eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of pride. This was the woman who, forty-eight hours ago, would have been mortified by a stray bra strap showing in public. Now, she was the centre of attention who was daring an entire room of strangers to gaze on her exposed body. I felt a swell of triumph. I had wanted her to find her courage, to shed the straight-laced skin she’d worn for years, and here she was–radiant, brave, and utterly powerful.
As I watched from the table, the heavy, rhythmic thrum of the Greek music seemed to pulse in time with the heat radiating from the dance floor. Simon’s large hands, which had been roaming freely over the curves of Amy’s jumpsuit, suddenly tightened their grip. With a fluid, commanding motion, he spun her around in his arms so she was no longer grinding her back against him but was forced to face him head-on.The height difference was striking; Amy had to tilt her head back sharply to look up at him, her throat exposed and pale under the flickering lights of the taverna. Simon didn’t hesitate. He hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her flush against his chest, his massive frame almost swallowing her petite form.
Then, right there in the center of the room, he claimed her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. It wasn’t a gentle or tentative exchange. It was raw and hungry. I saw Amy’s hands fly up to his chest, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt as she stood on her tiptoes to meet his intensity. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her entire body leaning into him as if he were the only thing keeping her upright.The reaction from the crowd was a mixture of low whistles and a sudden, charged silence from the younger men who had been gawking earlier. They were no longer just looking at a beautiful tourist; they were witnessing a woman completely surrender to the moment.
Watching them, the sting of jealousy flared again, but it was quickly washed away by that same, sharp sense of triumph. I saw the way Simon’s hand slid down from her waist to cup the underside of her bare ass through the thin fabric of her jumpsuit–a move that made her leg hook around his thigh in a reflexive, desperate need for more friction.She was vibrant. She was scandalous. And as they finally broke the kiss, gasping for air while the music reached a crescendo, Amy looked directly over Simon’s shoulder and found my eyes. The look she gave me wasn’t one of apology; it was a challenge. She was showing me exactly what she had become, and she was loving every second of the spectacle.
As the music slowed to a low, rhythmic hum, Simon and Amy untangled themselves and made their way back to the table, though the space between them had all but vanished. Amy was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the thin, silk fabric of her jumpsuit, which was now damp with a fine sheen of sweat from her exertion. Her face was deeply flushed, a vibrant mix of physical exhaustion and the high-octane thrill of her public display.
Returning to their shared side of the table, Amy sat so close to Simon that she was practically in his lap, her thigh pressed firmly against his and her arm draped possessively over his shoulder. The straight-laced woman from Singapore seemed a distant memory; in her place was a woman who was radiating a raw, sexual energy.
From my vantage point, I watched as Amy leaned into Simon, her head resting on his chest while she tried to catch her breath. The sight of her so completely comfortable in the arms of a stranger–especially after the deep, hungry kiss they had shared on the dance floor–sent a fresh jolt of adrenaline through me. The group of four younger men at the nearby table were still staring, their conversation forgotten as they tracked every movement of Amy and her lover. They looked at me with a mixture of confusion and envy, clearly unable to reconcile my quiet presence with the blatant exhibitionism of the woman who was clearly my wife.
Simon reached out, his large hand sliding up the side of Amy’s waist to rest on her ribs, his thumb tracing the curve of her breast as he looked at me. “She has a lot of fire,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to reach me even over the ambient noise of the taverna. “I think it is time we took that fire somewhere more… private”.
Amy looked up at him, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded with a mixture of wine and desire. She didn’t even appear to notice me any more, her eyes only for Simon. “I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice husky.
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