My Weekend in Nicaragua Ch. 02

Note: Chapter 1 was originally posted in Group Sex, but I had it moved to Exhibitionist & Voyeur. I'll be posting the whole series here. Some chapters are less voyeuristic than others, but the series as a whole has a voyeur's perspective.

I'm always working to improve my writing, so I really appreciate your feedback. Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

I sat on the bed as Ian stepped out of the bathroom. He was still naked, his cock losing its stiffness but still heavy as it lay semi-flaccid against his thigh. I didn't pretend to look away. He met my eyes for a moment, then looked away, a flush creeping up his neck as he walked quickly over to his suitcase, grabbed a pair of briefs, and pulled them on.

Sam followed a moment later and climbed onto the bed. I was still sitting in the dead center where they had left me. I shifted to the edge, though, as Sam claimed the middle.

"Ian," Sam said. "Come here."

Sam sat completely naked and entirely at ease in a way I never could be. Even post-fuck, she maintained a casual control, from the damp, tangled perfection of her blonde hair to the arch of her spine that thrust her tits forward. Even the tight curls of her bush, still wet from Ian, struck the balance between wild and tamed I so desired.

Ian walked toward the bed. As he approached, Sam reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him down with us. We lay on our backs in silence. The urge to break it burned in me. I wanted to ask whether I'd just cheated on my boyfriend. I wanted them to confirm that I had cheated. If the line was already crossed, then what did it matter if I went further? What did it matter if I crawled over and took Ian's cock in my mouth until he was hard again, and then climbed on him to remind him and Sam how much I had wanted him first?

Instead, I stayed frozen. Eventually, we brushed our teeth and got ready for bed. I flipped off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The rustle of sheets carried as Sam pulled Ian down next to her, and the wet sound of a single kiss filled the silence.

A moment later, her hand reached out behind her, found my hand, and tangled her fingers into mine. I gave her hand a squeeze and pulled her arm closer to my body. My shirt had ridden up, leaving a gap of bare skin above my waistband. I pressed the back of her hand against my stomach, desperate to feel her warmth. She didn't pull away or try to escalate the touch. She just rested her hand there as her breathing leveled out.

I lay awake for a long time as the heat between my legs from whatever the fuck had happened earlier refused to subside. I silently pleaded for Sam to slide her fingers into my waistband and take what I had denied myself earlier.

As I waited, Sam's breathing deepened. Her grip loosened, and her fingers eventually slipped away from my skin.

Listening until Ian's breathing matched hers, I waited another ten minutes, then eased out from under the sheet. Leaving my spot against the wall, I crept around to the narrow gap between the two beds and looked down. Ian had his back turned toward his own empty bed and was curled around Sam.

I stripped off my shorts and panties, letting them drop silently to the floor, then slid into Ian's empty bed and pulled the sheet up to my chin.

As I inhaled, the faintest scent of him from the night before filled my lungs, cedar and the smallest trace of sweat. I buried my face in the pillow and slid my fingers down, parting my slick folds.

I took my time. The mattress creaked if I moved too much so I barely rubbed. I avoided my clit as I spread the wetness across my slit.

I forced my thoughts to my boyfriend. He was sweet, I was attracted to him, and I genuinely believed I might love him. But another voice asked whether he ever made me feel the way Ian had.

I pictured him in the dark. His weight pressed me into the mattress as he knelt over me, his cock already hard. His head pressed into me as I finally slipped one finger inside myself.

In this fantasy, he wasn't gentle. He thrust into me with a brutal rhythm, bottoming out with each stroke. I let out a soft grunt before I could bite it back. He had a good cock, I told myself.

The rhythmic rubbing of cotton against skin sounded too loud in the quiet room. I kicked the sheet down to my ankles, exposing myself to the humid air. I checked the other bed; Ian's back remained turned to me.

I brought my free hand down to circle my clit as the finger from my other hand hooked inside me.

The imaginary weight of my boyfriend kept moving over me.

"I love you, babe," he whispered. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to moan.

"Did you like Ian's cock?"

I jolted, forcing away the intrusive thought. This was supposed to be my safe, wholesome fantasy I went back to whenever I was lonely. Ian didn't belong here.

"Is Ian's dick really that much better than mine? Is that what has you so wet?"

My core tightened. I tried to pull back into the familiarity of our intimate fantasy, where he would tell me he loved me and I was beautiful even as he fucked me hard.

"God, you must be such a slut. Did you really want Sam that badly? You'd have licked her pussy with his cock buried in it, wouldn't you? Licked his cum right off her tits?"

My fingers pressed harder. Heat burned through my chest as my nipples pressed against my t-shirt, aching for Sam's tongue to take one in her mouth. If either of them touched my breasts right now, the climax would be instantaneous.

My eyes flicked toward the other bed, and I froze. Ian had rolled over in his sleep without a sound. He was facing my bed now. In the darkness, his eyelids appeared shut.

I held perfectly still, watching him, tracking the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing remained deep and even. As I watched, I slowly resumed the tight circular pressure against my clit.

The darkness softened the angles of his face. A mess of curls spilled across his forehead. I studied him, remembering how he'd looked at me right when he came.

"Do you want his cock right now?" my boyfriend's voice taunted.

The imaginary weight pulled out of me, and I let out a breath.

"I want to see you get fucked by him."

In my mind, Ian climbed over me, his erection hard and insistent. My boyfriend knelt at the end of the bed, stroking himself as he watched. As the imagined Ian drove his hips forward, I shoved my finger deep inside myself. He filled and stretched me in a way no cock had before. I'd only ever experienced it with my favorite dildo.

I turned my head on the pillow, my eyes locked on Ian's sleeping form just feet away, syncing my fantasy with the real Ian lying there.

"God, Kat, you are so fucking perfect," he mumbled into my ear.

"She is, isn't she?" my boyfriend agreed.

Sam crawled up the bed and grabbed the hem of my shirt. In reality, I pulled the cotton up to my collarbone, exposing my tits to anyone awake. I checked the sleeping figures one last time, not sure I'd be able to stop myself if they were awake and watching. Then Sam's tongue dragged across my nipple before she closed her mouth around it.

"Kat, you look so sexy. I want you to cum for us, okay?" Sam whispered against my chest. "I want to see you cum on Ian's cock."

I fingered my clit while my free hand squeezed my nipple. The tension built in my pelvis as I imagined Ian's breath against my ear.

Right at the apex, Sam's mouth pressed against my lips, her tongue crashing into mine. My hips bucked off the mattress, and a muffled whimper tore out of my clenched mouth. I fought back the urge to scream. I climaxed hard, my muscles spasming violently around my fingers.

As my contractions subsided, I glanced at the other bed. I felt totally exposed. I had been far too loud. I pulled my shirt down, then froze. Ian's eyes were shut, but his face appeared more rigid, as though his eyelids had been squeezed shut just before I looked.

I studied him in the dark, but he gave no other sign that he might be awake. I lay in the silence as my chest tightened and I fought back the tears that threatened to break free. The guilt compounded as I considered everything I had done with Ian and Sam earlier, mixing with my shame at masturbating three feet from them.

But truthfully, I knew I wanted to cry not because of the guilt, but for what I hadn't been brave enough to do. I lay there, feeling the desire, wishing I had the nerve to get myself off one more time and not hold back. Wishing I had Sam's courage so I could crawl over, pull Ian's cock out, and make sure I was the last thing they remembered from this night.