This is a partly true story about an encounter my wife and I had with a stranger on our honeymoon. Equally, there are parts where the truth has been embellished and I will leave it to you, the readers, to judge what is fact, what is fiction and what is borderline.
Twenty seven years ago Beverley and I were on honeymoon in Cyprus, very much enjoying the time to express our physical love for each other, as you would expect. We had spent the first week at the Golden Coast Hotel in Protaris, doing absolutely nothing except eat, sleep, sunbathe, swim (either in the hotel pool or on the private beach), oh and bonk, bonk, bonk! We just couldn’t get enough of it! This was exactly what both of us needed, total relaxation after the hectic build-up to our wedding.
The second week we were a little more adventurous. We moved to another hotel, situated close to the Troodos Mountains, and we hired a car. Both of us were keen walkers and we used our transport to take us to the start of many delightful walks, as well as for sightseeing.
One day we drove to the Kykkos Monastery, high in the Troodos Mountains. It is an impressive building, quite modern in appearance from the outside but with some really ornate architecture inside and many impressive murals. Later, we took the short walk of approximately 300 metres to the tomb of Archbishop Makarios, the first president of Cyprus following independence from the UK in 1959.
The tomb has a permanent armed guard from the Cypriot Army and we met a soldier who had just come off duty, having been replaced by a comrade. His name was Markus and he was clearly quite taken with Beverley. He asked us if we would like a photograph of her standing next to him and she happily accepted his offer. They posed a little awkwardly, him with his arm around her shoulder and both looking straight ahead, smiling nervously for the camera. I suggested something a little less formal and encouraged Beverley to kiss him on the cheek. This looked far better and the photographer in me instinctively sought to improve the picture further.
I found myself naturally directing my two models, “Come on Beverley, kiss him on the lips, you know you want to” and “Markus, turn her around so you are facing each other and hold her close. That’s it, now place your right hand on her breast, she likes that. Move your left hand down from her shoulder, it’s not doing any good up there, and gently stroke her thigh. Don’t be afraid to let your fingers stray under the hem of her shorts, we’re getting some great pictures and I can tell you really like each other. Hold it there while I load another film.”
With a fresh film in the camera I turned back to my subjects to resume the shoot only to find that they had progressed a little further than I anticipated. He had undone the button on her shorts and pulled down the zip, allowing his fingers access to her pussy and she was enjoying this, judging by her squeals of delight. Their faces seemed glued together and I suspected his tongue was half way down her throat.
It was obvious that they no longer required any encouragement or direction from me, so I concentrated on taking more photographs and enjoying the spectacle. It had never occurred to me that I might find it stimulating to watch my wife having sex with another man, but that was exactly what was happening. The unexpected bulge in my trousers was demanding attention and I abandoned the camera in order to give myself some relief, sheepishly hoping Beverley was too occupied to notice me wanking as she performed intimately with another man. My cock became ever harder in anticipation of the fucking she was surely going to get at any moment. Too bad I couldn’t last, in just a few strokes I exploded all over the grass on which I stood.
Markus was proving to have more stamina. He had gone down on Beverley as I wanked and she could restrain herself no longer. She took charge to get what she was craving for and pushed Markus onto his back before roughly removing his trousers, which had already been undone at the waist. He had a much bigger cock than me in both length and girth and I saw her eyes widen with surprise and delight.
She straddled him and lowered herself to envelop his magnificent erection, slowly and carefully to avoid damage to her cute little snatch, which wasn’t used to such an enormous visitor. When he was in up to the hilt, so to speak, and no doubt straining against her cervix, she began to tentatively rise up and down, gently at first, then gradually increasing thrust and tempo as she became accustomed to Markus’s larger than normal cock and began to feel more confident.
It really was remarkable how long Markus was able to hold back his load as Beverley rode him, bucking wildly as she screamed and orgasmed twice, maybe three times. At last the inevitable happened and there was a real sense of urgency in his voice as he advised her to get off because he was about to cum. She looked me in the eye mischievously and said, “It’s okay, I’m on the pill and I want to feel you cum deeper inside me than anyone has done before.”
I knew this was a lie, because we had ceased all methods of birth control several months previously, in the hope of starting a family as soon as possible after the wedding. We would have tried even earlier, but Beverley didn’t want to be showing a baby bump as she walked down the aisle. However, it was too late for me to intervene. Markus was beyond the limit of his self-control and with one last thrust from Beverley and a mighty roar from him he had no choice but to dump his fertile load deep in my wife’s eager cunt.
Now that it was all over, Markus suddenly remembered that he had to be somewhere else and hastily departed after giving Beverley one last kiss. To her dismay, Beverley discovered that she didn’t have any tissues to clean up after Markus and there was a lot of it! Rather tersely, she demanded that I perform the task as it was my fault for instigating “the whole damn business.” I didn’t dare complain and did my duty, but was certainly glad there was a bottle of water in the car, a short distance away. Nevertheless, I could taste it up until dinner time and Beverley was suffering further leakages even after taking a shower back at the hotel.
It came as a shock to me how much I had been aroused by watching my wife with another man. I played it down, as did she about her guilty enjoyment of being fucked by another man, and we agreed to never speak of it again. I would love to report that several weeks after returning home Beverley had a positive pregnancy test and we had an exciting but nerve-wracking time up until the birth, of not knowing for sure if it was Markus or me who was the father. However, this wasn’t the case and it took another year of trying before she eventually conceived, with me the undisputed father (I think).
You may wonder why I have resurrected these memories from so long ago. Well, at the time Beverley and I were both already in our late thirties and so 27 years later we are now in our mid sixties. We have not been sexually active for a number of years, due mainly to me developing permanent erectile dysfunction as a result of Parkinson’s Disease, an incurable, serious and debilitating illness. Just the other day we were reminiscing and, for the first time since it happened on honeymoon all that time ago, we spoke of our encounter with the stranger that got out of control and we have regretted ever since. Or have we? It turns out that we both have wonderful memories of that incident and we were both disappointed at the time that Beverley didn’t get pregnant by Markus. We both would have liked a swinging lifestyle with the added thrill of not knowing who were the real fathers to our children, but were too embarrassed and guilt ridden to mention it.
The moral of this tale is take every opportunity that comes your way in life and to be honest with your partner about what floats your boat. You may get a nice surprise and find they have similar interests! Now, what parts of this story do you think are facts and which do you think are fiction?