Wife finally meets Her Black Bull

I wasn’t looking for anything. After the hell I’d been through with my ex, this trip was supposed to be about resetting. Me, a couple of the guys, some sun, and enough drinks to drown out the last two years of bullshit.

The resort was perfect — lazy mornings, blue water, music that didn’t ask much of you. But what really caught my attention was her.

She looked like trouble in the best way: toned legs, red bikini that barely held a damn thing in place, and lips that looked like they had stories to tell. Her husband — if you could call the stumbling drunk glued to his beer a husband — was passed out in a cabana chair, snoring through his fifth margarita of the afternoon.

She caught me looking. No — she wanted me looking. Gave me a slow, deliberate up-and-down, like she was inspecting inventory, lingering when her eyes hit the bulge straining against my swim trunks.

She didn't hide it, either. Her gaze got stuck there — a little pause, a flicker of heat flashing across her face — like she was sizing me up and liking what she saw.

When her eyes finally dragged their way back up to meet mine, she didn’t smile. She just locked onto me, holding the stare like a dare. A silent challenge. One I already knew I was going to take.

Later, I ended up at the swim-up bar alone. The guys had disappeared to chase something or someone. I felt her before I saw her — the subtle shift in the water next to me, the scent of sunscreen and heat.

“Looks like your friends abandoned you,” she said, her voice low, teasing.

“They tend to do that,” I replied, keeping my tone casual. “You too?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked over at her husband, still passed out in the shade, and gave a little shrug. “He won’t notice I’m gone. He hasn’t noticed anything in years.”

Her hand brushed against mine under the water. Maybe it was the current. Maybe not. I let mine stay there.

Then, slowly, her fingers slid over mine and kept going. I glanced at her, and she was sipping her drink like nothing was happening — except her eyes were locked on mine again, hungry now. Wild.

I felt her hand run up my thigh under the water, soft at first, then bolder. My breath caught. My hand found her waist under the surface, fingertips tracing the curve of her hip, feeling that thin bikini bottom that barely separated her from me.

She leaned in, her lips just an inch from my ear. “If you keep touching me like that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

I didn’t stop.

Neither did she.

The water kept us hidden, but what we were doing — the heat of it, the tension — was unmistakable. Her hand slid higher, wrapped around me under the water, slow and sure. I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out of me.

That’s when she said it.

“Meet me in the sauna. Five minutes. Don’t be late.”

And then she was gone, hips swaying through the pool like she owned it — like she knew I’d follow.

And I did.

The door to the sauna creaked as I slipped in, heat wrapping around me like a thick, wet blanket. Dim light, cedar walls, and that dense silence that makes every movement feel louder than it is.

She was already there.

Towel loosely wrapped around her, one leg crossed over the other, steam curling off her skin like it couldn’t wait to touch her. Her eyes met mine, slow and unblinking. A predator just waiting for her prey to come closer.

I sat down across from her, heart thudding like a drumline in my chest. I could still feel her hand on me from the pool, still semi-hard, already growing again just looking at her.

She leaned back against the wall, parted her towel slightly — not much, but just enough for me to catch the edge of a thigh, a whisper of skin, an invitation.

“You made it,” she said, voice low and thick with desire.

“You knew I would.”

She stood slowly, towel falling in a controlled drop. Naked. Completely. Beautiful in a way that made you forget how to blink.

She stepped over to me, straddled my lap, and without another word, kissed me. Hard. Wet. Starved.

Her tongue slid past my lips, and her fingers were already pulling at the waistband of my swim trunks, freeing me. She wrapped her hand around my hard cock, teasingly, then stroking it. I groaned into her mouth, grabbed her ass with both hands, and pulled her flush against me.

She didn’t hesitate. She guided me inside her like she’d done it a hundred times in her mind already. Hot, slick, and tight — she gasped into my mouth and started to ride.

Slow at first. Like she wanted to feel every inch. Then harder. Faster. Her breasts bounced with every grind of her hips. My hands moved to her waist, helping her set the rhythm. My mouth found her neck, her collarbone, tasting salt and heat and skin.

She grabbed my face with both hands and stared into my eyes as she moved, her breath hitching, legs shaking. "God... you feel so fucking good inside me."

I was close. She was already there, moaning louder now, uncaring if someone walked in — maybe hoping they would. Her body tensed, clenched around me, and that sent me over the edge.

I came hard, buried deep, gripping her tight as we both rode it out together, sweat and sex and steam wrapping around us like a cocoon.

She collapsed against me, breathing heavy, lips brushing my ear. “That’s the best vacation I’ve had in years.”

I smiled. “Mine too.”

And just like that… I wasn’t thinking about my ex anymore.

We stayed tangled together in the sauna for a while, still breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

She pulled back from me, brushing her hair out of her face, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. She gave me a look — one of those looks that makes your blood boil, where you just know the night's not over. Not by a long shot.

“You got a room here?” she asked, voice low, teasing, but edged with need.

"Penthouse suite," I said, smirking. "Overlooks the ocean."

Her eyes lit up, wicked and hungry. “Show me.”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the sauna without a second thought. We didn’t bother with towels, didn't care who saw us — just two barely-dressed bodies slipping through the humid corridors, heat radiating off us like a furnace.

The ride up in the elevator was brutal. She stayed plastered to my side, one hand roaming down my stomach, tracing the edge of my shorts, daring me. Teasing me. I was hard as a steel beam again, and she couldn’t keep her eyes — or her hands — off me.

When we hit my floor, she was already yanking at the waistband of my swim trunks, giggling under her breath like a woman possessed.

I fumbled with the room key, finally getting the door open. As soon as we were inside, I shoved it closed with my foot and grabbed her, lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her lips attacking my neck, my jaw, my mouth — biting, sucking, claiming.

I carried her straight to the bed, the moonlit ocean behind us forgotten, and tossed her down hard, making her laugh — a low, sexy sound that went straight to my dick.

She spread her legs, no shame, no hesitation, and beckoned me forward with one finger.

That’s when I knew — she wasn’t here to be teased anymore.

She was here to be fucked.

The door barely clicked shut behind us before she was on me again — mouths crashing, hands pulling, bodies desperate.

My suite was lit by the moon reflecting off the ocean, the glass wall making the whole room glow silver and blue. Not that either of us was admiring the view.

She pushed me back toward the bed, and when I sat down, she dropped to her knees between my legs. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

She pulled my shorts down, and her eyes widened when I sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking for her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I've been thinking about this since the pool.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her mouth to the tip. She moaned before she even touched me, then wrapped her lips around the head and sucked, slow and deep, tongue swirling. Her hands couldn’t even wrap around my base — I was too thick for her, and she loved it.

But I couldn’t wait. I needed to be inside her.

I hauled her up off the floor, ripped that tiny bikini bottom off her — soaked through, dripping down her thighs — and tossed her onto the bed like she weighed nothing.

She spread her legs for me without a word, her pussy glistening and begging for it.

"You sure you can take it?" I growled, fisting my cock, lining it up.

"Please," she begged, voice raw. "I need that steel rod inside me. Ruin me."

That was all I needed to hear.

I slammed into her in one brutal thrust, bottoming out, making her cry out and arch off the bed. She was soaked and tight, the perfect combination, clamping around me like she never wanted to let go.

I pounded into her, hard and deep, hips snapping with enough force to rattle the headboard against the wall. She dug her nails into my back, moaning, babbling, begging for more.

"Harder," she gasped. "Fuck me harder, don't stop, don't you fucking stop—"

I didn’t. I gritted my teeth and kept driving into her, feeling the coil inside me wind tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

I came hard, pumping rope after rope inside her, so much that I could feel it leaking out, oozing around my cock, dripping down onto the sheets.

But I didn’t stop.

Even with my release still spilling out of her, I kept fucking her, chasing her orgasm. She cried out, legs locking around me, body spasming as she came, clutching me so tight I almost blacked out.

And the second she broke apart underneath me, I lost it again — another thick, heavy release shooting into her over and over until we were both a messy, soaked disaster of sweat, cum, and gasping breaths.

We lay there for a minute, tangled together, her body twitching against mine, both of us ruined and wrecked.

Finally, she pulled herself off of me, my cum dripping out of her, running down the inside of her thighs. She found her bikini top, but her bottoms were useless — soaked, ripped, destroyed.

She smirked at me as she slid the top back on, naked from the waist down, thighs glistening with everything we’d done.

"Guess I’m going back to him dripping," she said, voice thick with satisfaction.

I leaned back against the pillows, watching her walk to the door, her bare ass swaying, my cum still leaking out of her with every step.

"Good," I said, voice rough. "Let him smell what he missed."

And just like that, she was gone — leaving me with the ocean breeze, the scent of sex in the air, and a memory I knew I'd never forget.

I was still sprawled across the bed, half-dazed, sheets twisted around me, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

One new message.
Unknown number.

Her:

Can’t sleep.
Still dripping from you.
Want more.

I stared at the screen, my cock twitching back to life just reading it.

Then another message came through — this time a photo.
A shot of her hand between her thighs, slick and glistening, her wedding ring catching the moonlight.

Her:

Meet me at the cabanas tomorrow. 3 PM. Don't be gentle this time.

I grinned, feeling the blood rush south again.
Guess this vacation was going to be a lot more memorable than I thought.