Cohen Xavier couldn’t believe his luck. It was only his second day at the Soleil Magenta Singles Resort, and he’d been propositioned by a gorgeous blonde in her early thirties named Krissi. She was tall and slender, with deep blue eyes and full, shining lips. He watched her backside sway beneath her emerald green dress as she clopped away in tall white heels. The fact that she was out of his league registered only in the deepest recesses of his conscience—along with the fact that she didn’t bother hiding her wedding rings.
Dropping twenty dollars on the bar, he stood and pulled his jacket off the back of the bar chair. He had an hour before eight o’clock, when he was supposed to meet her in her room. A shower and a change of clothes were in order. She was gorgeous, and he wanted to give no less than a stellar performance.
Glancing to the back of the lounge, her long blonde hair caught his eye. She sat with a man and another woman, who he presumed to be a couple. Krissi caught him looking and smiled, gesturing him over. Cohen figured it was best not to disappoint her, so he obliged.
“This is him,” she bubbled as he approached. “Sit for a sec, handsome.”
Cohen sat and extended his hand to the man of perhaps forty years. “I’m Cohen,” he offered.
“Garret,” answered the man. “I’m Krissi’s husband.”
“Whuh-what? Oh no…no. I don’t need this.”
“Relax,” insisted Garret. “This must be your first time here.”
“Maybe, but I don’t need to get in the middle of—”
“You saw her rings, I’m sure.”
“W-well, yeah,” he stuttered. “B-but I-I—”
“Chill out,” sassed Krissi. “Garret isn’t gonna butt in. He’s gonna be with Tina.”
The red-haired woman grasped Garret’s hand and offered a shy smile. She was perhaps a few years older than Krissi and almost as stunning. Garret put an arm around Tina and explained, “It’s a deal Krissi and I made before we got married. We met here at Soleil Magenta. Every year, we come back for a week and allow each other one fling…one night only. It keeps us honest the rest of the year.”
“You cheat to stay honest?”
“It makes sense if you think about it,” answered Krissi, rubbing his thigh.
Blood rushed to Cohen’s groin as he peered at her smiling lips. They would soon be wrapping around some lucky man’s cock, he realized. It may as well be his.
Garret leaned toward him. “Tina and I will be in a room on the west side,” he explained. “We do our own thing, separate and apart. You have my blessing to show Krissi a good time, but I don’t want to know about it. If that’s not good enough, I’m sure she can find someone else.”
“No,” agreed Cohen, standing up. “When you put it that way. I guess I should thank you.” Turning to Krissi he promised, “See you at eight.”
Heading for the lobby, Cohen heard the clopping of Krissi’s shoes behind him. He stopped as she caught up and handed him a folded paper. “Just a change of venue,” she peeped playfully. “I got a bigger room.”
“A bigger room?” he asked. “Why?”
“You’ll see,” she teased. “See you at eight.”
Cohen was prompt. His cheeks flushed with warmth as he rapped on the door. He gasped as Krissi answered in a sheer, white satin nightgown hemmed at mid-thigh. “Follow me,” she sang, strutting barefoot on the plush red and gold carpet into the living area.
His pulse pounded as he rushed to catch up, but rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks as a bolt of shock shot through him. It was suddenly more than evident why Krissi had gotten a bigger room. Sitting on the white sofas and chairs around the posh suite were no less than a dozen beefy men, wearing only white cotton pants. Some were black, some white, and others Milano, but all were young and ripped. “Dare I ask?” he inquired.
“It’s a bit easier for a girl to round up a play date,” she admitted, bending one knee in a playful pose. “Ross is with security. He got me the room. I met Darren and Cyrus last night at a volleyball game, Josh, Hector, and Tyrell work at the hotel. Everyone else is one of their friends…except for Jake.”
“Drake,” retorted the young man.
“Whatever,” she jested. “I met him on the way up.”
“So you just invited me to parade in front of your husband.”
“Kinda,” she confessed, tossing him a pair of loose-fitting bottoms. “But you’re welcome to stay. I’ll be busy, but I’ll find time for you.”
“I guess I can free up my schedule,” he quipped, finding a seat as five of the men stepped forward.
Cohen held his breath as she dropped her nightgown, revealing firm, ample breasts. Her waist cambered to a delightful re-curve over her hips, between which sat the bump of her firm tummy, adorned by the pea-size pit of her navel. She smiled and hooked her thumbs beneath her panties. The five gathered around her as she tugged the dainty garment over her thighs and stepped out of it. A well-trimmed triangle of golden scruff marked her pubic crown, wedged in the confluence of her fit pelvis and the tops of her long, lanky legs.
Krissi knelt and sat back on her heels as the men dropped their pants. She dunked over the meaty shaft in the middle, stroking the ones on either side with each hand. Cohen fought to keep his hand off his own crotch as he watched her full, blonde mane dance before the men’s laps. His raging hard-on stood in his thin cotton pants like a warm steel pipe.
Men surrounded the bed as Krissi climbed onto the mattress on her hands and knees, bobbing over Darren’s bone-hard offering while Hector thrust in and out of her from behind. Twisting to the left, she lolled her tongue over Drake’s throbbing bulb as she stroked Ross. As she turned her attention to Darren again, he let out a groan. His meat thumped between her lips, then pulsed along its underside as he bellowed. Krissi hummed, swallowed, and hummed again as Hector pressed his pelvis against her buttocks and locked his hips.
Cohen vied for position, but ten minutes later, he was still a spectator. Pearly ribbons dripped from Krissi’s seed-laden inners, soaking the sheets beneath her oozing crevice. Her lips glowed with mixed lineage as one chiseled cock after another heaved its viscous brew between them.
The scent of male pheromones filled the air as Krissi straddled Tyrell, facing away from him. She dropped her living sheath over his brazen turret, leaving only his balls dangling beneath her cum-laden slit. A glistening glaze coated the dark skin of his staff as she rose. It dribbled over Tyrell’s sac, but her golden scruff wiped it off as she dropped again and ground her hips.
Josh and some other guy stood on the bed to each side of her. She turned her head from side to side—alternating dunks and bobs over their stiff rods. To her right, Josh groaned as she licked his knob. Pearly jets splashed off her lips, running over her chin and dripping onto her breasts and tummy in shimmering streams.
Looking down over her striped torso, Krissi cupped Tyrell’s swollen sac and kneaded it with her fingers. Tyrell grasped her waist and held her down over his pelvis. He let out a wail as his hilt twitched in rhythmic ripples and the outline of his balls became visible. His spent jewels dropped low as the transfer completed.
Cohen gaped at her labia, wrapping the dark girth between them so as to seal the inseminating produce in her depths. He pictured the billions of sperm teeming inside her—swimming madly alongside rivals of a half dozen pedigrees in competition to breach her cervix and amalgamate.
With an emboldening grunt, Cohen pushed his way to the edge of the bed as Krissi rolled onto her back and spread wide for a beefy, bronze-skinned hunk. The youthful man held her ankles in his hands, arms outstretched as his beefy piston reamed the tissues of her pelvic playground. She peeped to the cadence of his balls slapping against her buttocks. Her legs rocked back and forth as his hips smacked the backs of her thighs. Raising his chin, he growled a hardy groan as he added his pedigree to the pool of proteins in her carnal cavity.
As Curtis started to climb on the bed, Cohen grabbed his arm. “Wait, dammit,” he insisted.
“I aint had her either,” snapped Curtis. “She can take both of us.”
“I said wait!” he snapped, kneeling beside her. “Everyone’s going at her, but no one’s pleased her. Just give me a minute.”
A strong hand grabbed Cohen’s shoulder from behind. “Share or move,” urged a deep male voice.
A warm flush of confidence washed over him as he grasped the beefy paw and pushed it off. “I mean it,” he warned. “Back off. No one even bothered to try making her come. Everyone just chill for a minute.”
Krissi sang a song-filled note as Cohen circled her clitoris with his middle finger. He peered into her eyes, through her blowtorch-blue irises and into the points of her pupils, searching for the mechanism that invited a hoard of men to know her inner secret. He thought he caught a glimpse as she gazed back, squeezing his wrist and widening her spread. Her brows rose high and her mouth opened wide. She squealed as her tummy contracted and a stream of thankful reward arced from her gaping crevice, followed by a second and third. “Get in me!” she begged. “Please get in me!”
As Cohen climbed between her long, alabaster legs, a gob of viscous white brew dripped out of her well-sated slit and into the cleft of her buttocks. Pressing his throbbing bulb between her semen-glazed ass cheeks, he swathed it back up and into her gaping gash. She cooed as he sank his engorged knob into the gooey warmth of her entrance to ecstasy. As his blunt head bathed in a concoction too convoluted to distinguish, he wondered how her pubic grasp could seal his cock in such a tight wrap after such a reaming. With a quick adjusting shim, he thrust forward through her sperm-washed walls and buried his entirety in the private vault she had opened to the public.
Curtis climbed beside her, but she ignored his wagging wand as Cohen broke into measure. Again her brows raised, and a song of elation escaped her. Widening her spread, she pulled his back tight against her thighs as her inner architecture clasped him tight. Again she sang out, spraying his balls in several prolonged gushes that poured onto the sheets below.
Krissi peered into Cohen’s eyes. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to speak. Cohen ceased his motion and fell forward onto his hands, his shaft buried in the wrap of her velvety warmth. Her breath reeked of sperm as she brought her lips to his ear, yet it wafted like precious puffs of enchantment as she whispered, “I want to stay with you tonight. I want you to make love to me.”
Cohen nodded and straightened his elbows. Krissi smiled and squeezed her legs tight around his waist. “Now come in me,” she purred.
As Cohen resumed his thrusts, she turned her head to the right and wrapped her lips around Curtis’ begging bulb. Pangs of elation tingled through Cohen’s manhood as he increased his pace. Krissi stopped bobbing as Curtis grunted. A dribble of cum escaped the corner of her mouth as she gulped. Cohen pictured it passing down her gullet to be ingested along with so many other loads.
Krissi looked up at Cohen and moaned with her mouth agape. Peering at the glossy sheen on her lips and tongue augmented the carnal chaos imprinting on his conscience. The thought of her sleeping in his arms as her body processed so many proteins sent a twang of unabated bliss bolting through him. It culminated in a jolt that widened her eyes as he burst his opening salvo into her heavenly hollow.
Cohen let out a wanton wail as pulse after tingling pulse thumped through his buried cock in successive volleys, sowing her intimate cavity with his lust-driven bid. Krissi lifted her head and squealed as he irrigated her inners with the fruit of his loins. She gazed into his eyes like a stabbing victim, then dropped to the mattress like a ragdoll as his spurts faded. His balls lay resting on her buttocks as he sensed the warmth of his seed in her intimate challis. Looking around the room, he noticed half the men had already left.
Krissi made good on her promise to stay the night with him. Wearing only a terrycloth robe, she held his hand through the corridor and onto the elevator. Cohen wore the white pajama bottoms and his unbuttoned shirt. Once in his room, he lay on the bed, waiting as she showered. But the excitement of the day left him with an exhaustion that overrode his anticipation. Meaning only to rest his eyes, he fell asleep before she came out.
He awoke to the moist warmth of her mouth and the gentle lolling of her tongue beneath his knob. Krissi seemed different, though. She wasn’t showing off or performing, but rather loving him with her mouth—gliding her glossy lips up and down over his manhood. Her cheek quivered from the playful attention she paid to his engorged bulb beneath it. He soon let out a whimper, ready to burst forth a swath of seed onto her twiddling tongue.
“Not this time,” she chimed, releasing his chiseled staff and climbing face to face with him. “I spent an hour getting the taste of cum out of my mouth.”
“Decided you don’t like it?”
“I love it,” she purred. “But I figure you don’t.”
Before he could respond, her lips were pressed against his. Their tongues met in a ritual far deeper than their previous encounter. His conscience swirled in a problematic melee, but there was no doubt he would answer her call.
Her lips tasted of cherry and her skin smelled of jasmine in a summer breeze. Her soft, warm palms rubbed his chest as her lanky fingers gently scratched, sending shivers up and down his spine. As he raked his fingers through the flaxen shimmers of her mane, she lifted her chin and offered her neck.
Kissing his way down her torso, he sucked her nipples erect, working his middle finger into the slick warmth of her clench. Gone was the slippery sperm of other men. The aromatic scent of feminine nectar caressed his olfactory sense, begging him to delight in her taste.
Krissi cooed as he parted her labial gate with his wiggling tongue and bathed his taste buds in her oozing honey. She bucked and rolled her hips as he dashed her love button. He licked and lashed until his tired tongue hit its mark. With a needy peep, she gushed a fountain of delight over his cheeks, chin and neck. It dripped onto the sheets—the sole stain on the fresh linen. “Enjoy me,” she whispered, rolling onto her hands and knees.
Cohen pressed his throbbing pole into battery and breached her pubic clench to a moan of encouragement. The skin of her waist suddenly seemed too magical for his common hands. His heart pounded in his chest as he slid to half-depth, basting his aching cock in the rich lube of her lining. She sang a joyful note as he broke into measure.
Indeed, all was different. Her love channel’s welcoming ointments offered an enchantment no amount of semen could rival. The wrap of her velveteen hug seemed all the tighter without ribbons of cum gushing over her apex. Again, the tingling voltage of imminent orgasm crackled through his manly prowess. He knew her bewitching charm could bring him over ecstasy’s edge many times before the night was through, but he wanted to look into her deep blue eyes as he seeded her pelvic garden. Moreover, he wanted to kiss her.
She giggled as he rolled onto his back. Straddling his hips, she let out a playful peep, but sliding her oozing heat over his living lance, she made his heart skip a beat by whispering, “Love me, Cohen.”
He stammered for a response, but her mouth was locked with his before he made a noise. Her soft breath tickled his cheek like dreamland’s gentlest breeze as their tongues danced. Breaking their lip lock, she stroked his forehead and said it again with a subtle caveat. “Love me,” she pleaded. “Just for tonight, let me feel what it’s like.”
Cohen nodded, unable to find words.
Riding him in slow rhythm, she explained, “Year after year the crowd grows. I took a dozen men tonight, trying to feel it.”
“Feel…orgasm?”
“I can have an orgasm with a vibrator,” she confessed. “That’s what I do most of the year. But I’ve never felt someone’s desire to bring me there…his fervent insistence to assure my satisfaction, never. You filled me with lustful passion, but you showed a humble appreciation for my spirit.”
“So why? Why the—”
“Gangbang? Why’d I pull a train?” She rocked her pelvis, enveloping his length and pressing the heat of her vestibule against his sac. “I’ll explain later,” she promised. Again she opened the world behind her pupils to his gaping gaze. She kissed him as her inners squeezed his girth and thankful wash cascaded over his jewels. “Plant your seed in me,” she begged, brushing her lips against his. “Fill me with loving seed.”
Time seemed to slow as she erected herself over him. Again he peered at her navel, picturing the tissues beneath it. But he no longer saw her precious vessel as a repository for lustful breeding. Only the image of his own seed registered in his conscience, striving to breach her cervical door and gain entry to her time machine.
He sensed a vacuum in the space around him as twangs of rapture rippled through his manhood. Tightening his grasp on her hips, he began a long, low moan that transformed to a hybrid sound—a blend of opera singer and foghorn. For the briefest moment, he saw the Engrain of the Supreme Architect in her idyllic proportions. A wave of nirvana washed through him as he realized he hadn’t yet erupted.
That changed in the next second. A glorious pulse of passion sprayed a viscous volley through the parted tissues of her inner passage. A bevy of incredulity followed as jet after bliss-driven jet flooded her inner paradise in a deluge of unabated passion. He sensed his shaft swelling and contracting in the clasp of her oozing clinch as she joined him in song—her eyes seeming to register each salvo.
Falling forward onto her elbows, she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re so much more,” she chimed.
“More than what?” he asked catching his breath.
“More than the only thing I’ve ever needed.” She climbed beside him and snuggled up to his shoulder.
Cohen’s mind raced as she rubbed his chest. He imagined running away with her—moving to some remote place and starting anew. He saw pictures of Krissi working a homestead garden, with a Labrador Retriever by her side. Minutes later, she stopped rubbing and let out a gentle snore—a precious, gentle hum from her nasal cavity.
For an hour, Cohen lay awake, trying to ignore his ambitions by thinking instead of the proteins of so many men coursing through her. But thoughts of her obviously unhappy existence haunted him. Finally, he drifted off to a light sleep.
He awoke to the dim light of the bathroom lamp shining through the half-open door. As he sat on the side of the bed, Krissi came out in her robe and kissed him on the forehead. “You gave me everything I asked for,” she tendered, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry you and I can never be.” Her gaze followed her finger as she touched his lips.
Cohen kissed her finger. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’ve seen people try,” she lamented, sitting beside him. “They fall in love overnight and decide to fight the myriad of truths that put them where they are. They wind up on some homestead, sustenance farming with a Labrador Retriever by their side. They wind up hating each other. I don’t want you to hate me, Cohen.”
“You said you’d explain—”
“Not much to explain,” she admitted, looking into her lap. Drawing in a deep breath, she interlaced her fingers and huffed. “Pure lust,” she admitted. “But that’s only half of it. I don’t think I’ll ever know the other half.” She kissed his cheek and stood. “Please don’t forget me,” she requested, picking up her bag of clothes.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Krissi ruffled his hair and turned to leave. She offered a sad smile before closing the door.
That afternoon, Cohen sat by the pool, still drawn of emotion, but knowing he had only himself to blame. He had spent a good chunk of change to go to Florida, not to mention a year’s accrued vacation time. He spent months dreaming of the single flings he’d have at Soleil Magenta, a resort known more for easy hookups than lasting relationships. Even if he did find himself falling for a girl, there was no reason to choose a married one.
He wanted to believe it was selfish of Krissi to come to a singles’ resort. She chose her lot in life, and it wasn’t fair to impose on others. But he couldn’t believe that. He had looked in her eyes. It wasn’t pure lust that brought her to invite thirteen men to inseminate her. That was an excuse.
“Hey,” called a cheery voice from behind him. “Cohen, right?”
Cohen turned to find Tina, Garret’s date from the night before, holding a drink with an umbrella in it. Soleil Magenta was full of pretty women, but most were so dolled up they seemed plastic. No girl he had seen at the resort was as pretty as Krissi, but if anyone came close, it was Tina. She stood in a cobalt-blue bikini and big, black-rimmed sunglasses. Her crimson red hair was pulled into a tight bun with a shiny clip holding it in place.
“Hey,” he replied. Would you like to sit?”
“I’m from Missouri,” she quipped. “I didn’t come all this way to sit, did you?”
Cohen had come looking to romp with promiscuous beauties and wound up pining for a married woman. Perhaps Tina was just what he needed. He stood, took her hand, and went with her.
Tina’s room was close—on the third floor overlooking the pool area. No sooner had she closed the door than she pressed her lips against his and offered her tongue. It wasn’t the same as Krissi’s. She was more bold than tender, but bold was in order. Their game was pure lust, not true love. Still locked in a kiss, he unhooked the top of her bikini and tossed it aside.
She unbuttoned his summery shirt and pressed her ample globes against his chest as they kissed again. Standing on her tip-toes, she licked his ear and whispered, “Wait’ll you see what I have in store for you.”
Cohen spun her around and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her tummy and pressing his chest to her back. Tina moaned as his right hand plunged under the bottom of her bikini. With the scratch of her bush in his palm, he worked his middle finger into the slick warmth of her slit. The smacking and smucking sounds grew louder as aromatic juices oozed over his finger. He kissed the nape of her neck and grasped the sides of her torso, easing her toward the bed.
At the foot of the bed, she pushed his chest. “You sit,” she purred, bending and stepping out of her bottoms. She dropped to her knees and unpinned her full, red mane, then grasped his hardy shaft, studying it. “Did Krissi enjoy this?” she asked.
“I’d like to think so,” he answered.
“Garret says she doesn’t swallow cum. Did she do that for you?”
“Come to think of it, no.”
With her lips brushing his knob, she whispered, “I’m going to, as long as you promise to brew a second batch.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He let out a long moan as her soft, full hair washed over his lap. It shimmered as she licked his sac, twiddling her tongue between his nuts and stroking his length. Her green eyes peered into his as she kissed the tip of his blunt bulb. “I think she did,” she sassed.
“Does it matter?”
“Only if Garret finds out.” She opened wide and plunged over his beating girth, lolling beneath his shaft-head between bobs. No doubt, Tina knew what she was doing. It wasn’t long before the pangs of surrender tingled through his manhood. She wrapped her lips tight as his cock thumped a dry-fire. With the second jolt came a series of spurts. He groaned as her twiddling tongue called forth the rest of his seedy payload.
Tina never paused for a moment after swallowing his plentiful payload, and Cohen never softened. The veins mapping his staff never even lost their sculpture. He bounced off the bed and stood her up, then moved behind her.
“You’re saltier than Garret,” she purred, leaning her elbows onto the bed and swaying her hips. Cohen pushed down on his stiff pole and rubbed it into the scruff of her crimson bush, then into the wet heat of her entry. Tina stood on her toes and cooed as he sank half his length into her clench. Rearing back, he tightened his grip on her waist and charged forth into her carnal vessel to a squeal of delight.
He sensed the slick heat of her slit against his sac as he rocked his pelvis to gain full depth, pressing his thighs against the back of hers. Her moans grew louder as he began a steady rhythm. Straightening her arms, she arched her back and raised her chin. Her long hair danced over her back as she shook her head.
“I want you to eat me,” she moaned, climbing onto the bed. She rolled onto her back and spread wide.
Cohen scampered up and dug his nose into her curly red crown. As he lashed his tongue over her stiff gush button, a knock came to the door.
“Remember what you were doing,” she ordered. “This is the surprise I promised.” She bounded to the door naked and cracked it open. “Yay!” she cheered, opening the door to reveal Garret and a middle-age brunette in a bikini and sarong. “Get in here! You’ll never guess who I rounded up!”
Tina led them to the foot of the bed, where Cohen stood naked. The woman smiled as she appraised him. “You’ll do,” she boasted.
“This is Kerry,” offered Garret.
“Terry,” she offered, correcting him.
“Whatever,” he grumbled. Turning to Cohen, he asked, “How was your time with my wife?”
A mix of anger and confusion surged through Cohen. As much as Krissi had broken the rules, it bothered him to hear such a snide comment. “Does she know you’re here?” he asked in return.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” snapped Garret. “I figure she’s probably sore after hosting a baker’s dozen in her box last night.”
“Thirteen?” asked Terry. “I need to talk to her.”
“So do I,” proposed Cohen, stepping into his pants.
“Don’t go,” bargained Terry. “You guys can hash it out later.” Turning to Garret, she asked, “Thirteen…really?”
“Divorce her,” blurted Cohen. “You obviously don’t love her.”
“And you do? You’ve been here fucking Tina.”
“Because I can’t have Krissi, dammit! At least she stuck to your once-a-year rule.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I bothered talking to her.”
“When? She had cocks in her mouth all night.”
Cohen had no choice but to leave. He knew he would wind up hitting Garret and ruining what was left of everyone’s week. Pushing his arms into his shirt, he kicked into his flip flops.
“Don’t bother talking to her,” scoffed Garret. “She thinks it was you who outed her.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Because you fell for her.”
Cohen ground his teeth as he stomped to the door.
“Come back if you change your mind,” called Terry. “And bring a few friends. Maybe a dozen.”
Cohen got a late lunch at the outdoor restaurant across from the pool. As he finished his drink, he looked across the patio deck to see Krissi, sitting a poolside table by herself. He stuck a hefty tip beneath his glass and bolted over to her.
“What the hell do you want?” she asked through her tears.
“Krissi,” he begged. “Please…we should talk.”
“Do you know what I do back home?” she asked. “I’m a news anchor. Do you have any idea what I stand to lose?”
“Your husband lied to you,” he implored. “Please, let me explain.”
“I trusted you,” she sobbed.
“And you broke her trust,” added Garret’s voice from behind. “You wanted to take her from me and have her for yourself. I guess you thought it was worth outing her as a whore.”
“You son of a bitch,” snarled Cohen. “You went and banged Tina again today, along with Kerry, or…or Terry.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Krissi. “Garret, did you—”
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Garret. “He’s trying to muddy the water.”
A visceral scream shrieked from across the pool. Several more sounded as a party tent beside the building collapsed over the portable bar beneath it. The crowd scattered at first, but then drew in, gathering around the collapsed canvass.
Cohen ran over to the sounds of hysterical crying. He gasped in horror as he saw Tina. She lay with her back arched and arms outstretched atop the bloodstained white canvass—her green eyes open wide in terror and her lower lip trembling. She had landed on her back atop the center pole of the tent and been run through. It protruded several feet from just below her navel like a bloody spear. A tatter of tissue hung from the tip, torn from a fold of intestine protruding from her belly. Tina lifted her head slightly and let out a whimper, somehow finding the strength to grunt, “R-Ross.” With that said, she went still and looked off into eternity.
Cohen pressed his palms to his temples as employees and security personnel scrambled about. Amid the crying and yelling, he heard Krissi scream. A hundred feet away, Garret lay on the ground, scrambling to get up. Ross had his arm around Krissi’s neck and a knife in his hand. She writhed and squirmed, but at half his mass, it did her no good. He dragged her into the parking lot stumbling and screaming. Cohen charged toward them as Ross shoved her into a security jeep with no top. He lunged with a loud bellow, but Ross shoved him off and slashed his forearm with a wild swing of the knife.
The injury only served to embolden Cohen. Again he attacked, latching onto Ross’ neck as he started the jeep. He held on as the vehicle dragged him, landing several good blows to Ross’ jaw and temple. Unable to steer, Ross crashed the vehicle through a chain link fence, tossing Cohen several yards into a parked car.
Krissi tried to bail out, but Ross backhanded her and threw the jeep into reverse. As Ross took off across the lot, another security jeep pulled up. “He’s there!” bellowed Cohen, pointing to the fleeing vehicle.
“I’ve called the police,” replied the young security guard. “You need to get back to the pool area for—”
Cohen didn’t let him finish. He grabbed the young guard by the shirt and growled, “Get in the passenger seat or get out.”
As the security guard took the first option, Cohen drove over the downed fence and across the lawn, squealing onto the pavement only a hundred feet or so behind Ross. They swerved through traffic, ignoring intersections for a two-mile stretch until Ross turned down a road by the shore.
Cohen roared up to the driver side rear quarter of Ross’ jeep and turned into it, slamming against the fender.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asked the guard with a yelp.
“A Pit Maneuver.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Do you know the Pit Maneuver?”
“No. You got any better ideas?” He turned again. Ross’ jeep swerved, but he over-corrected and drove off the right shoulder, sending the jeep into a tumble. Ross was ejected from the vehicle. It rolled over him as it flattened a wooden stockade fence and came to rest upside down in a small private yard.
Screeching to a halt, Cohen ran to the crash, followed by the guard. Ross lay face down—his legs twisted in horrid deformity. Krissi hung upside down by the seatbelt, crying. “You took the time to buckle up?” asked Cohen as he knelt on one knee.
“Force of habit,” she bawled.
The guard let out a whimper. His eyes widened as he pointed behind Cohen, then ran. Turning, Cohen found himself face to face with a huge Rottweiler. An even larger one stood drooling behind it.
He didn’t choose to do what he did next. It just happened. He howled like a warrior charging into battle. “Leave her alone!” he screamed, swinging wildly. “I love her! I’ll tear you to pieces if you go near her!”
“Hey, Romeo,” squawked the gravelly voice of an old woman. “You’re scarin’ my dogs. They aint gonna hurt no one. I called 911, so if you need to run, better get goin’.”
Cohen looked to see the two dogs cowering beneath the front porch of the small house. He knelt and crawled beside Krissi. “Unclip the belt,” he urged. “I’ve got you.”
“Your arm!” she blurted. “It’s bleeding!”
“I’m alright,” he insisted, wrapping his arms around her.
“You gotta fix my fence,” complained the old woman, standing over a groaning Ross.
“Hey!” called the guard as he charged around the fence. “Thank God you’re okay. I went to find something to beat those damn dogs with, but, I-I—”
“Just help me get her down,” complained Cohen.
Krissi bounded to her feet as they set her down. She hobbled on a broken heel up to the security guard. “Give me your shirt,” she demanded, still in tears. “I need something clean to bandage his arm.”
“It’s the only one I have,” complained the young man.
“You got more than one face?” she asked with a snarl. “Because I’m gonna rip that one off if you don’t give me that damn shirt!”
When he begrudgingly handed it over, Krissi tied it tight around Cohen’s injured arm. She sat and hugged up to his side as sirens grew louder in the distance.
That night at the local hospital, Cohen sat in the waiting room of the Emergency Department, itching around the bandage on his forearm. Sheriff Harlan Noble stepped up and introduced himself. “She’s asking to see you,” he offered. “The doc said you can go in, but I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“I told you all I know,” replied Cohen.
“I figure you did. I just want you to know she’s been through a lot since she got here.”
“Did they find something wrong?”
“It’s what I found. She’s lucky you chased Ross down. You did yourself a big favor, too.”
“How so?”
“Her husband was setting you up. He planned to sell her off to a drug lord in Honduras who saw her on television and decided he wanted her for himself. Ross had a seaplane waiting at the marina to bolt her across the gulf.”
“What about Tina?”
“Tina Wheeler was in on it. She was a news anchor in Missouri. She had sent a letter of interest to Krissi’s station in Minnesota. Garret is the program manager at the station. He’d have a new gal and a lot of money…maybe a new news anchor if he was feeling bold. But Tina decided to give you a try. Garret found out from Ross that Krissi had fallen for you. I guess he could overlook it, since she was being sold into slavery. But when he found Tina with you, he had Ross toss her off the balcony. Ross decided to use it as his distraction to grab Krissi. If you hadn’t seen it, Krissi would be meeting her new master about now and you’d be answering for the fact that your DNA is in Ms. Wheeler’s corpse.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Xavier,” chimed a friendly nurse. “She’s asking to see you.”
A year later, Krissi stood in the kitchen of a beach-front room at Luna Cyan, the sister resort to Soleil Magenta. Luna Cyan, however, catered to married couples rather than singles. A mild breeze stirred the salt air as she poured four glasses of wine. She and Cohen had been married for three months when they took the resort’s parent company up on their offer for a free week’s stay. Laughter rang from the living area, where Cohen sat with Carter and Lynn Hewitt, a couple they met through the club’s website.
Thanks to weeks of correspondence before they met in person, they knew they had a lot in common. Lynn was a news anchor in Nashville. Like Krissi and Cohen, Lynn and Carter met at Soleil Magenta under remarkably similar circumstances, minus the crime drama.
Krissi placed the tray of glasses on the round ottoman and sat in the center of semi-circular sofa, with Lynn to her right and Cohen on the left. Carter sat on the far right with his left arm around Lynn. After a second glass of wine, the conversation lost its cordial façade.
“Your story is truly amazing,” offered Lynn. “I can see the dilemma you both had to face. Please know that Carter and I wanted to meet you…regardless of what happens. Please don’t feel pressured.”
“Don’t worry,” sang Krissi. “There’s a big difference between what I was doing a year ago and partner sharing.”
“It took us a long time to come to this decision,” added Cohen. “We took the time to fall in love and let it become who we are…true lovers. But in the end, we decided that our true love was found in the throes of pure lust. It’s something we both want…as a supplement to our love.”
“Lust is a part of us all,” agreed Krissi, leaning against Cohen. “Our love shone through the fury…like forging steel to make it stronger.”
“You’re not afraid of it breaking you up?” asked Carter. “Like you and your first husband?”
“We weren’t sharing,” tendered Krissi. “We weren’t in love. We went to Soleil Magenta to fill a void…separate and apart. We didn’t want to know what the other did.”
“This is the exact opposite,” insisted Cohen. “We want to let that lust back in…to forge it, like Krissi said, but for each other’s sake as well as our own. Krissi and I will never do anything separate…never apart.”
“I’ll take equal joy in pleasing you and watching Lynn with Cohen,” said Krissi. “We’re looking forward to tonight, but Cohen and I will never kiss anyone except each other.”
Lynn leaned against Carter and kissed his cheek. She was as long and sleek as Krissi, but with jet black hair and deep brown eyes that sparkled as she tendered a tantalizing grin. “Carter and I feel exactly the same,” she agreed, “but with one caveat, if you and Cohen agree.”
“I’ll never kiss another man,” chimed Krissi.
“Nor would I,” purred Lynn. “I never want Carter to doubt the sincerity of my commitment. I will amalgamate with Cohen for sheer pleasure, but Carter will never have a rival for my affection.”
“So what’s this caveat?” asked Krissi in a sing-song tone.
Lynn touched her lanky forefinger to Krissi’s glossed lips. “Carter doesn’t find other women to be rivals for my affection,” she purred. “Does Cohen?”
Krissi stared into her brown eyes, wondering how to react. She had thought they covered all the bases. Moreover, the offer was enticing. Still locked in Lynn’s dark gaze, Cohen’s breath tickled her ear as he leaned in close. “For the record,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t consider her a rival. I’d put it in the pure lust category.”
“Are-are you sure?” she asked, her gaze locked on Lynn’s lips.
“Positive.”
Krissi took in a breath and opened her mouth. Lynn’s soft, firm lips met hers with a gentle pressure unlike she’d ever experienced. She loved Cohen’s kiss for its manly, assuring qualities, but Lynn’s offered enchantment and playful tease unhindered by commitment. She realized in that instant, Lynn wouldn’t shy away from the salty tartness of semen once it was on their breaths. As their tongues danced, she imagined sharing a mouthful of pearly treasure, swapping it back and forth. Breaking their lip lock, she turned to give Cohen an affirming kiss of thanks.
Lynn smiled and stood, offering her hand. Krissi rose and faced her. With a quick nod, they each dropped their sundresses and stepped out of them. Krissi rubbed her palms down the side of Lynn’s torso. As they kissed again, she giggled to the tickly scratch of fingernails over her buttocks. Lynn offered a knowing glance as they spun to switch sides.
With a sweet giggle, Lynn knelt before Cohen and tugged at his shorts. Krissi leaned over Carter, tugging his Capri’s down to his knees. She gave Cohen a playful smile as Carter kicked them off. She watched for a moment as Lynn dunked over Cohen’s lap and began to bob. Turning to Carter, she grasped his plentiful prowess in her palm and licked up the underside to a hardy moan of approval.
Pressing his chiseled rod against his pelvis, she turned her attention to his warm sac, lifting his left nut onto her tongue and sucking it into her mouth. She stroked his length as she did the same to his right. Flicking her way back up the underside of his staff, she opened wide and wrapped the dry skin of his blunt bulb with her lips.
Lolling her tongue on Carter’s warm girth, she looked to see Cohen peering at her. His mouth dropped at the corners as he let out an elated moan, but his loving gaze offered assurance he was as enthralled with watching her as he was with Lynn’s delightful attention. Releasing the meaty shaft in her mouth, she stood and straddled Carter’s hips.
The head of his stiff cock was every bit as warm as her oozing clench as it pried her privacy open. He held her waist as she wiggled her pelvis and dropped an inch to envelop the throbbing knob. With it nestled into her clench, she lifted her chin as Carter sucked her nipples one at a time. The heat of lustful fervor washed through her as she surrendered to gravity and dropped over his throbbing beam. With the back of her seeping slit wetting his warm sac, she ground her bush into his.
To her right, Lynn was riding Cohen, facing away from him. Her labial gate wrapped tight around his hilt. Only his balls showed, hanging beneath the black hairs of her well-trimmed crown. The sight sent a shiver through Krissi. She had never seen a man’s proud phallus perform its lust-driven labor in such detail. She stood straight, leaving Carter’s shining post to wag as she pushed the ottoman out of the way and knelt between Cohen’s knees.
Carter took it in stride. He dropped to his knees and slid his slick staff into her from behind, then grasped the crests of her hips and broke into rhythm. With his pelvis bouncing off her buttocks, Krissi leaned in and dashed her tongue over Lynn’s erect clitoris. Lynn screeched as her apex pulsed, but plugged with Cohen’s sizable girth, it only dribbled a stream of shiny delight. With a squeal, she lifted, leaving only Cohen’s crown in the cinch of her gaping gate. Krissi flicked his jewels as Lynn’s apex quivered again, spraying a burst of womanly fruit.
Krissi confiscated Cohen’s glistening manhood, wrapping her lips tight as she bobbed up and down to wipe Lynn’s nectar off. Squealing in wanton abandon, she sucked harder as Carter increased his pounding pace—his balls slapping her sloshing crevice with each cycle. With a lustful groan, she pushed Cohen’s engorged cock back into Lynn’s glistening gape.
Cohen’s fingers kneaded the sides of Lynn’s torso as she re-enveloped his entire length. Krissi lashed her tongue on the underside of his hilt, periodically dropping to his dripping wet jewels. She pulled back to watch as Cohen cried out. Lynn rose a few inches, allowing Krissi a better view as the base of Cohen’s shaft twitched in her clasp, then pulsed in long, rhythmic cycles. All four souls sang out as he transferred the brew of his balls into Lynn’s welcoming vessel.
As Cohen’s thumps feigned, Lynn lifted her creamy challis off his still-hard staff and rocked her pelvis forward. Krissi peered into her undulating depths as she pushed a puddle of Cohen’s pearly offering out and onto her perineum. As Krissi dug her tongue into the pungent semen seeding Lynn’s gash, Carter pressed his pelvis against her buttocks and howled. His turret throbbed in the grasp of her inners. She peeped as temperate jets sprayed her walls in a deluge of gratuitous irrigation. The taste of Cohen’s seed coalesced with the tang of estrogen on her tongue as Carter’s salvos faded off.
And so it went for the next few hours. Krissi and Lynn writhed on the floor while Cohen and Carter rested between interludes. Krissi took pride in pleasing Carter, and contentment the knowledge that she and Cohen could delight in each other while enthralled in unbolted sexuality. She also knew they could not live as libertines, but like Carter and Lynn, they could reserve their antics for periodic indulgence.
After midnight, Krissi and Cohen sat on the beach, watching shimmers of moonlight dance on the waves thumping rhythmically on the shore. “Thanks for being patient,” she tendered, snuggling up to his side. “And thanks for indulging me once I was ready. I’m glad we met Lynn and Carter.”
“So do you have everything you want?” asked Cohen. “Pure lust and true love. What else can I give you, my sweet?”
“Can we get a dog? I was thinking maybe a Labrador Retriever.”
