Page 13 of Tell Me What You Want, Or Leave Me

I can’t take my eyes off this spectacle, and I’m particularly entranced by the woman’s expression. Her mouth, her face, her gaze show she’s enraptured. I can see how much she’s loving it, and that makes my own temperature rise.

I love to watch.

Watching gets me worked up.

Watching makes me want to play.

“Do you like what you see?” Eric murmurs in my ear.

That question brings back memories of our first visit to Moroccio, that very special restaurant he took me to in Madrid. I smile when I remember how scared I was back then, and I sigh as I try to imagine what my face looks like right now. Everything’s different. Thanks to Eric, my perception of sex has changed—I think for the better.

I’m now a woman who relishes sex. Who talks about sex. Who knows how to play and no longer sees it as taboo. As the woman’s cries get louder, and her partner’s thrusts become harder and more assured, we watch, and Eric’s voice breaks a little.

“Now I want to hear you moan,” he says.

I can’t take my eyes off the scene before us, but I notice when Eric undoes the knot on his linen pants and takes them off. He turns me toward him, parts my legs, and after rubbing his cock on my butt, he locates my sex and thrusts into me.

Oh yes...yes.

His stroke is heavenly and fearless. The way we both like it. His hard, smooth, stiff penis buries itself completely in me, and I suckle it and squeeze, delighted to receive him.

The pleasure is so intense...The heat is bracing...I pant and my love, my lover, my German, holds me by the waist, having too good a time as he lunges at me over and over, drawing moans from me that drive us both crazy.

I turn and realize the couple who was tussling before are watching, and I know now it’s me who’s showing the other woman the depths of my desire.

Oh yes...I really want her to see.

I want her to know just exactly how much I’m savoring this.

Because of Eric’s height and force, he lifts me off the ground a couple of times, and I have to hold on to the bar’s wooden boards so he can come in and out of me. I like how he possesses me.

He does it again and again. I love it. He loves it. The strangers love it, and then my body weakens, turns to jelly, and I let myself come with a long and delicious cry. Eric follows the instant after my climax with a raspy groan.

For a few seconds, we’re quiet and don’t move. We’re exhausted now. And then the other couple waves at us as they get dressed and go, and we come back down to earth.

Still holding on to me, Eric pulls his cock from inside me. He kisses my ribs, and when he sees me cringe, he squeezes me tighter in his arms.

“Do you want to take a little swim?”

Oh yes...I like doing everything with him, and I accept without reservation.

I love it when he’s so relaxed. When he loses his arrogance. His solemnity.

Naked, happy, we run toward the water, holding hands. We both dive in, and when we emerge from the water, my lover takes me in his arms and kisses me.

“I’m crazier about you every day, Mrs. Zimmerman,” he says.

I smile broadly.

How could I not smile...drool...shout out my happiness. What a husband I have!

I curl my legs around his body and notice his erection growing again. I give my insatiable, kinky, and hot husband a certain look.

“Tell me what you want,” I say.

3

After twenty days in our own personal paradise where everything is magical and fun, I look out the car window in Mexico City, and I’m surprised to discover the streets are choked with people. Eric’s on his cell, with his usual serious expression, as the driver navigates our impressive limousine.

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