She watched Alende dive, cutting through the water like a lean brown dolphin, all muscle and movement and shimmering, and she wanted him. Wanted him as he surfaced, effortless, water and sun on smooth skin. Wanted him as he climbed into the boat, small, compact, hard, fast, handing her a shell from the bottom "for the beautiful lady."

Her husband, indulgent, shook his head, smiling at the small man's audacity, and turned to face the front of the boat again, away from her, away from Alende, not seeing her hand on Alende's leg, stealing up past the back of his knee, between his legs, tickling his balls gently. Alende shuddered beneath her touch and she thrilled at his tremors, just as she was sure he had thrilled at hers when he helped her into the equipment, his hands wandering much too knowingly, her husband rolling his eyes at her giggling.

Her husband hadn't been looking when she bent over to get on the boat, bending just far enough to display her breasts as she took the strong offered hand and was pulled on board, had not seen Alende's appreciative smile, his wink that promised playtime.

From the moment they had walked into the snorkeling shop they had been playing, hinting, smiling, winking, touching. She was astounded by his aggression, thrilled by his obvious need for her, by the way he stared, the way he touched her, right in front of her husband, his erection bold, unapologetic and obvious beneath his swim trunks. That night, and this morning, she had pictured him naked as her husband fucked her in the hotel bed, as she had mastrubated while her husband snored.

It was time to swim. Her husband went first. Alende, who had made a great show of fastening her vest for her, beckoned her to undo the top buckle before getting in the water. She complied, unquestioning, smiling at him, reaching inside to tweak her own hard nipples, biting her lip as she pinched them hard before jumping off the side of the boat. Alende followed.

They swam in that order, her husband first, going where the mood took him, swimming with the fish, looking at the coral. She was content to follow his lead. It was all so stunningly gorgeous it didn't matter to her where they went, and Alende was right behind them, keeping them safe. She was reassured by his presence, by his touch on her hand as he swam up next to her, by his hand on her arm, on her shoulder, grazing lightly. She turned her head as much as she could, smiling as much as she could, as his hand snaked into her vest, fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, tugging them until she felt her mind going, saw him gesturing with his hands to swim with her legs open and readily complied.

Alende dropped back and then, as she swam, she could feel his hands pushing aside her suit, exposing her cunt, entering her, filling her, his fingers moving inside her, the coral, the fish, the sunlight on the water, her husband swimming in front of her, this small, beautiful, force of a man taking her to places in her mind she had never been before. Then just as suddenly he was back beside her, smiling, holding her hand, grazing her arm, tweaking her nipples, and then behind her, holding her hips, brushing his cock against her ass as though he meant to fuck her, entering her again with his fingers, pushing her to what she swore was the point of no return, and yet returning, over and over and over. He was beside her, above her, behind her. He was everywhere at once. His hands were everywhere at once. On her arms, on her breasts, on her legs, on her hips, on her ass, on her cunt, fondling, fingering, taking what he wanted to take, giving what he wanted to give, controlling her completely. She was lost to her senses, lost to the water, lost to the pleasure that rose, that crested, that would not break, an endless wave without beginning, middle, or end.

And then she saw the boat again, saw her husband lift his head, lifted herself up and out of paradise, almost gasped as she felt Alende's finger leave her. With her husband right there, the three of them treading water, Alende pointedly stuck his finger in his mouth, the finger that had been inside her and proclaimed it "very tasty." She shivered. She was cold and overheated, excited and exhausted, on the verge and over the edge. Her husband, looking concerned, suggested she lie down. There was a small padded bench in the back of the small boat where Alende steered. She climbed to it, removed the vest, and lay down. Alende climbed over her, took the rudder, started the engine. Her husband sat in the front, watching the waves as they rode back to shore.

She trembled, uncomprehending, at the newness, the totality of the experience. She had thrilled before to illicit sex, to the bond it created with her lovers, the spiritual connection, the naughtiness, the fun. But this was none of that. It was about her pleasure, Alende's control, and a primal awe that struck at the core of her being. He had used her completely, without reservation or hesitation, and she had loved it, welcomed it, encouraged it, had not once even considered saying no. Lying on the bench, Alende standing over her, her husband in the prow looking forward, she put one hand over her left breast, playing with her nipple, spread her legs, the other hand on her cunt, rubbing gently, reliving the sensations of the water, the fish, the coral, the sunlight, and his hands. She looked up at Alende. He looked down, and watching her husband's back, pulled his strong hard cock over the top of his trunks. Eagerly she took it in her mouth, licking the length of it, sucking, rewarding, needing. He was close. She could feel it. And then suddenly he was pushing her back, pulling his cock back into his trunks as her husband turned his head, and then turned back. Her hand went to the front of Alende's trunks and at the pressure of her hand he exploded, the dark stain of his come barely visible against the dark wet cloth.

On the plane ride home, a blanket over her husband's lap, her hand under the blanket, up the leg of his shorts, playing with his cock, she lived it all again, replayed it in her mind to make sure she would never forgot, that she could recount the experience to the other men in her life. She smiled with pleasure, stroked her husband's erection, thought of Alende, and briefly ached for the lost interrupted moment, for the opportunity to feel him pulsing into her mouth, to lick his seed from her lips, to kiss him with it still on her tongue, to swallow him deeply.