We drank the water
Even though we’ve only been married for a little over a year, I think I will always be amazed at Sally-Ann’s ability to immediately sense my mood and to identify a source. If it involves something painful she wastes no time in seeing what she can find in her cabinet of emotion medicines and selecting and dispensing just the right dose to bring me back in balance. Such a thing happened on a day not so long ago, maybe to act as a reminder that I might just be the luckiest guy I’ve ever known.
Sally-Ann burst into the house, high on the sunny days that at last came to our small town. Maybe I’d zoned out more than I realized because she didn’t even get halfway across the room before tossing the stuff she picked up from shopping and came to me to ask what was on my mind.
I could not spit the words out, so she lent her charitable head and heart.
“Our anniversary? Is that what you’re thinking about?”
My eyes blinked, because teardrops wanted to fall but I dare not allow them.
“Yeah, you know, not the anniversary itself, though I wish…”
“You want to think about our first anniversary but you keep thinking of our honeymoon? That thing that happened on our honeymoon? Wonder how many anniversaries we will have to see before the memories fade? If they ever will fade?”
I made what I believed to be my best attempt in steadying my eyes at the love of my world, if just to demonstrate I still possessed a wealth of spiritual reserves quite able to stand against the stonewall face trying to protect a heavy memory; but I had to issue demerits to these eyes when they refused to look at Sally-Ann in that way. Best I had to reach for was a meager nod and the muttering of a ‘yes’ more feeble I would ever approve of had I known it would come out that way.
Yes, I was thinking less about our upcoming anniversary and more about what happened to us on our honeymoon. And she saved me the trouble of composing adequate words, because again Sally-Ann demonstrated her amazing reading powers, saying almost word-for-word what I was trying to form, specifically the part about wondering how many anniversaries it would take before the memories faded – or if such memories ever could begin to fade. I might’ve added that maybe they would go blurry, eventually.
She leveled a look at my face to show she understood but she was really looking at a memory. And her vocal tone told me she spoke as canlı bahis şirketleri though the ever-present sunshine in that place caressed her face in real time.
“I think about it too. Often. Almost every day, actually. Relive it. I relive it, almost every day. I can still feel the thick flesh withdrawing only to be replaced by another shaft of thick meaty flesh, entering, penetrating. The hot jets of climax filling me, then running creamily out. Losing track and count of how many. Wondering if it would – if they could – ever quit, if they could get enough of me.”
Though I still faltered with eye contact I could still take her hand; drew her to me, putting my arms around her. We could cry against each others shoulders. The healing may come slowly, but someday we would know healing.
“To think it was all because of my insisting we let ourselves get lost in that marketplace.”
She bracketed my face with her soft hands and looked with deep affection.
“Baby listen to me. Listen to me closely. It wasn’t your fault. I know you wish or wonder if you could’ve done more. But you could not. We were too outnumbered to have a chance at resistance, and they were so… so strong. We were strangers and lost in their streets. They must have selected us as soon as they saw us and made their move.”
A sudden sense of shame caused my head to try to turn away as I blubbered, “I know what you mean to do and it only makes me adore you all the more, but it doesn’t change the fact that I felt powerless, so helpless and powerless.”
“You were, baby. you were made completely powerless. We both were.”
“It all happened so fast, I mean, everything was great, we were in the thick of that marketplace, taking in the chattering accents; was like a wonderland, like the brochures promised. Then we somehow ended up in a quieter quarter and….”
“And they who took us captive took notice of me and they – they’d surely handled other lost strangers before. We were babes lost in their forest. And they were seasoned hunters.”
A short series of frames flashes in my mind’s eye. Hands my imagination kept associating with burly briny fishermen, pulling Sally-Ann’s lamb-white cotton panties down her legs, or more like yanking my Sally-Ann’s white cotton panties, and even though the burly hands had yanked my Sally-Ann’s panties down her legs just once, I saw it as a loop, a repetitive piercing moment those burly süperbahis hands yanked my helpless Sally-Ann’s panties down her legs. Maybe because I had no other choice then but go partially blank and numb, since it was after that, those same hands had made my Sally-Ann’s legs spread apart and her pussy openly exposed. She tried to kick and twist, but, like she said to me while straddling my lap, there were just too many of them and they were strong. I could feel myself pulling at the chain and collar that kept me tethered to a hook in the wall and trying to force a scream of protest through the strip of bedding they had ripped and twisted to use as my gag.
During my dark reverie, Ann had unfastened my pants and slid her panties to the side and the tip of my cock touched the slick slit she kept slightly swinging.
“I want us to spend our anniversary there. I want to get lost in that marketplace. Again.”
“I told you I think about it all the time. I think of how I lost count and control of my orgasms; of how intense it was to be forced into a surrender to sensations. All those big…. honey, please don’t be mad, but really they all had cocks longer and thicker than yours. Being repeatedly drilled and spilled into, being stretched by them. But how could I ever tell you that it was more bliss than trauma that created my dazed condition and the rubbery stumble in my walking? Why I insisted we go not to the authorities but straight to our room?”
My face must’ve been obvious. That got to me because I wanted to hide it.
“Honey don’t be that way. You know something silly as penis sizes… I hope by now you do not think of me as so shallow. It’s just what happened and the way they are: they who captured us and fucked me over and over, well, maybe you should try a twist on the theme and celebrate that none could ever imagine a man with a small penis as yours…. not that it is small, but compared….”
I tried to thrust upward to push my cock just a smidgen deeper.
“But do you want to know what I loved the most?”
She quickened her grinds, bringing me closer. I wanted her to say no more but my tongue and lips formed only pitiful groans.
“What I loved most, darling, was that you were there, watching it all. Helpless as you were, when I had the chance to glance your way, the look in your eyes, the desperation, the deep true love I know you feel for me. Especially süperbahis güvenilir mi during moments I felt the cock inside me tremble and spit another load. That was the best part. A close second best part was when those two mean bitches unhooked your leash and grabbed you by the hair and shoved your face against me and made you clean me before the next round.”
“You-you liked that?”
“Well of course! I wish I could describe the elegant sensations. Soothing? Your gentle tongue so soothing on me between all the long thick cocks drilling and cumming, drilling and cumming? Really honey, I think your tongue is the best thing about you for our… you know.”
I finally surrendered to the cascade of her sultry trickling voice falling over my ears because nothing was feeling better than the impending ejaculation.
“I want it again, baby. I want it again. Get fucked over and over, baby, I want to go there, again.”
Sally-Ann’s repeating of wanting that again, melted into husky whines that sprinkled questions about didn’t I want it again too, and then her grinds went into the manic mode and I had no choice but to cum as she was cumming and gushing and to know much of her cum was propelled by the memory of what happened on our honeymoon, one mere year ago.
Well, few souls in this world are able to get their way as my Sally-Ann is able to get hers. So here we are. Same foreign exotic island city, same hotel, and the sun will be setting within a couple short hours. We are about to set out to the same marketplace where it is easy to get lost, and where strong men lie in wait for easy prey as my Sally-Ann is taking her time dressing up to be.
I’ll admit I’m pretty nervous. Even more nervous than when I watched her carefully search and select sexy skirt and panties before we left home. Knowing they were not for me. Then again they kinda are.
What is more difficult to admit is that I’m so hard and dripping so much precum I’d probably not last more than a couple thrusts in my sweet Sally-Ann. I will say such an admission is easier to handle than understanding that within a couple hours I will be watching a gang of dark strong foreigners taking turns fucking my dear sweet Sally-Ann. And a small swarm of butterflies in my belly must mean this will be how we celebrate anniversaries from here on out.
Except there is one thing I did not tell Sally-Ann, because I had a hard time admitting to myself: the memory of those two mean bitches pushing my face between my wife’s legs to lick out her cum-filled pussy never fails to get me rock hard, whether I want it to or not. Maybe by the time next year’s anniversary rolls around I’ll be able to openly admit it.