The weather when we landed was perfect, 29 degrees, a beautiful, clear day that you only seem to notice on holiday. We were tired from the flight, both of us having been perhaps a little too active for the first hour or so, and then restless and unable to fully relax (please see the story "the stewardess" for an explanation). We had spent a significant amount to ensure the most luxurious treatment, we work hard and a few days of pampering in a climate unknown to Londoners was worth every penny. We were, therefore, gliding in silence toward our hotel in the back of a large luxury car, nestled deep into the seats as the aircon kept us at an ideal temperature and the uniformed driver politely answered our questions, every one of which he could probably predict before we opened our mouths.

As he had escorted us from arrivals to the car, carrying all of Lizzie's luggage (and none of mine, of course), I had watched him blatantly taking her in from top to toe, undressing her in his mind as his gaze lingered on her tits, then dropped briefly back to her waist and below. I make a point of noticing when this happens, which is often because it turns Lizzie on for me to tell her about it later, especially when the guy or girl, to be frank, gets visibly aroused, wide eyes, red face, licking of lips, and most exciting of all, perhaps a perceivable erection stretching the fabric of a guy's trousers.

The driver was aroused, he didn't seem to be hard, from my subtle observations, but his ploy to stand slightly behind Lizzie as we approached the car told me that he was certainly an arse man, of course, as soon as he dropped us at the hotel reception, me tipping him for carrying Lizzie's bags inside, and retreated with one final, long appraisal of my wife, I murmured, "He wants you," as we stepped up to the polished oak desk. Lizzie smirked, "I noticed, he spent more time trying to lead us from behind than he did ahead of us." I chuckled, we got our suite keys and headed for the lift, the hotel staff promising to meet us there with our bags. We called the lift and got in a marble, oak, and brass fittings affair. Just as the doors were closing a very handsome older man shoved his arm between them to force them open and joined us inside. As the doors closed fully and we started to ascend he turned to us, a little out of breath from hurrying, and apologized, his French-accented English making clear that he could tell where we were from at a glance.

Smiling, I asked him if it was so easy to identify the British on holiday, "It's the skin color," he chuckled, "Pale, like your sky," Lizzie and I laughed, there's nothing like a weather joke in a lift to make the British feel at ease. Then, directing very dark brown eyes at my wife, he said, "Although, you, Madam, would be the brightest jewel on any sunlit beach." Lizzie, despite her vast experience with all types of men, blushed and lowered her eyes like a virgin as the lift doors opened at his floor he raised her right hand to his lips and stepped out, nodding politely to me as they closed behind him again.

I chuckled, "Lizzie, you're blushing!"

"Piss off, I'm not!" she said, turning to the mirrored back wall of the lift to look at her reddening cheeks.

"I think it's sweet, I do," I said, putting my arm around Lizzie's shoulders.

"Sweet," she said, "Is not the right word." she reached under the waistband of the jogging bottoms she always wore to fly, took a tiny sharp breath as she touched herself, then removed her hand and pushed her finger into my mouth, it was wet and tasted of her cunt. After I'd licked Lizzie's finger clean, the doors opened and we hurried to our suite.

"Jesus, what the fuck did that guy do to you?" I asked, "You were soaked in 10 seconds and all he did was talk to you and kiss your hand!"

"I have no idea, but I tell you now, that man could make me come by looking at me, he's insanely sexy."

"Ok," pushing her firmly back on the bed, sliding her trousers and knickers down her stunning thighs to her ankles and discarding them, "Tell me?" As Lizzie fantasized loudly about the French guy doing progressively filthier things to her in riskier and riskier places and scenarios, I knelt between her legs, my hands pushing her knees apart as she used both hands to push my head firmly down on her, my tongue buried in her dripping cunt. She came 3 or 4 times in quick succession, pushing her hips to meet me, arching her back, eyes closed, squirting hard into my mouth. Finally, Lizzie relaxed, sated, and fell asleep as the exertions of the day caught up with her. I stood and gazed at my wife, her hair spread about her on the white sheets, naked from the waist down, her legs splayed open, her cum running from her swollen cunt onto the bed below. I was, I told myself for the millionth time, a very lucky man.

Struck by an idea that made my cock jump in my jeans, I quickly took a picture on my phone, then zoomed in on Lizzie's cunt and took another. After showering, and making myself come in the process, I joined my wife for a nap.

When we woke it was early evening. Lizzie showered and dressed in white linen trousers, fitted wonderfully to her incredible arse, and a thin black cotton halter with lace detail. I love French knickers, which Lizzie usually wears for me, but due to the spray-on look of her trousers, Lizzie wore a tiny red thong under them. We ate at one of the hotel restaurants, enjoying the fish caught that day and the kind of fruit it's impossible to get in cold, damp countries like ours, we also polished off a bottle of champagne and were both a little *****. The waiter, once he'd torn his eyes away from Lizzie's cleavage, much of which was visible from above given the low-cut nature of her top, had told us that guests often gathered to watch the sunset from the roof garden, where more champagne was provided every evening. We made our way to the top of the hotel and emerged onto a large outdoor area, lush with dozens of plants in pots the size of a small car, surrounded by a waist-high glass and steel barrier. The view of the beach and, by now, richly dark blue sea, was beautiful.

A waiter appeared by our side carrying a tray of champagne flutes and as Lizzie was about to take one, the French man appeared from behind the waiter, deftly plucked a glass from the tray and, with a slight bow, handed it to my wife, who smiled a weird little shy smile and took it from him, starting to redden again. I was amazed, I took my glass and we began to make small talk between the three of us. Very soon we were on first-name terms, he was Marco (actually Marcel but he didn't like that). I was a little *****, but tingling with excitement to see that there was a huge mutual attraction between Lizzie and Marco. As the sun started to set I could see that, although still handsome, as a younger man he must have been incredibly good-looking. He still wore his clothes well despite being a little heavy but his height helped him carry that off. He wore a well-tailored pair of suit trousers and an expensive-looking shirt with cuffs, gold cuff-links catching the light from the comfortably dimmed lamps which dotted the area as his hands moved, reaching to touch Lizzie gently on the hand or arm, and once or twice the cheek, as they spoke, seeming to almost forget I existed for minutes at a time. Lizzie was head-over-heels for this guy, a 100% instant holiday love affair, and unless he was a very good actor, which, as the accomplished gigolo I suspected him to be, he probably was, Marco was captivated by her too.

I began to notice, as the light grew dimmer, that Marco would occasionally brush Lizzie's breasts with his hand as he touched her arm. Lizzie made no complaint, and I certainly wasn't going to as I started to get a little hard watching. Reminding them I was still there with a comment now and again they would engage politely with me but, inevitably, they would soon drift back into their little love-in. I could see that my wife had erect nipples and it certainly was not from the cold. I knew, of course, that she would be wet, her vivid and filthy fantasy stories of fucking Marco a few hours earlier as she came repeatedly into my mouth were playing in my head, as I'm sure they were in hers.

Then it was time, the sun, blazing a deep orange with incredible shades of pink, red, and violet, was about to dip below the horizon, looking impossibly big. I moved forward with everyone else to get the best view of a spectacle like nothing I'd ever seen and after a few minutes, I realized Lizzie and Marco were no longer alongside me. Glancing around I spotted Lizzie's white trousers in the gloom beyond the lights, clearly leaning against the railing on top of the glass barrier in the far corner of the roof garden. I moved, cautiously, toward her, my heart beating faster as I got close enough to hear Lizzie whimper softly, a high sort of groan mixed with a small pant which repeated every few seconds. I was familiar with the sound, and my cock was instantly hard. I moved within touching distance and saw Lizzie leaning against the rail, her arse perched on the metal, hands gripping it at either side of her. Marco was standing between my wife's open legs, his left hand on her neck as they kissed passionately, his right hidden inside Lizzie's open fly. Marco's hand was moving fast he thought they might be disturbed at any time and wanted to maximize his time with Lizzie. Sensing my presence behind him, Marco whirled around, shock and guilt chasing each other across his face.

Lizzie moaned, "Don't stop, Marco, for fuck's sake.." as I smile encouragingly, I nodded at him. Surprised, but far too committed to question the gift, Marco resumed his frantic hand movements, much to Lizzie's audible pleasure. I stepped closer and took Lizzie's hand from the barrier.

"You need to swap places", I said, "her legs will buckle if she comes hard enough and we don't want her to go over the edge." I had an ulterior motive but didn't feel I need mention that. Without questioning me they swapped places and I became the barrier holding my wife firmly from behind, my arms wrapped around her, as Marco now rested against the metal barrier, stroking rapidly inside Lizzie's trousers. I could feel her thrusting her hips towards him, her head back, resting on my shoulder, my legs between hers, pushing them apart. From my vantage point, I could see a large bulge in Marco's trousers, his cock was desperate to be released, so I took control, taking Lizzie's right hand, I placed it on Marco's cock. Lizzie immediately unzipped him and pulled a decent-length, thick, and very erect cock, from his trousers into the open air. I watched, very hard myself, and starting to feel the beginnings of my orgasm I felt Lizzie's arse push against my crotch every time she pulled back from her thrusts towards Marco.

Lizzie began to run her hand rapidly up and back, stroking the length of his cock in time with his hand inside her trousers. Reaching around her, I slid my hand into the open material and, pushing her knickers aside, rested my hand on Marco's. He didn't even pause as I ran my fingers over his hand, exploring and feeling him finger fucking her hard with three very wet fingers buried to the knuckle. I pushed one of my fingers inside her to join them and could feel her contracting as she began to come.
As I knew they would, her legs buckled, but between me supporting her from behind and Marco's hand in her cunt, we kept her shaking body upright as she came hard soaking both of our hands and squirting a little onto the floor between her feet, adding to the huge damp patch on the crotch of her trousers as she did so.

I heard Marco's breath go ragged and he swore in French as Lizzie's stroking, which had stopped as she came, resumed faster and harder. She was looking directly at his cock, breathing hard. I saw his balls start to contract and I quickly dragged Lizzie's trousers down to her thighs and, picked her practically off the ground, moved her a foot closer to Marco as he launched several streams of heavy white cum into the air between them his cum hit Lizzie's halter and thighs, I quickly dragged her top up to ****** her flat tummy to catch the last of it on her belly, feeling it slide down over my hand to the top of her knickers.

Lizzie was shaking and her legs were like rubber as I pulled her trousers up and her top down. Marco, looking and sounding like he'd run a marathon put his cock away as he stepped away from the incriminating puddle of cum, a mixture that came from his cock and Lizzie's cunt that was glistening a little from the distant light. I gave Marco my number and took his, waiting a few minutes after he left before kissing Lizzie softly, once, on the cheek, until I could trust her to walk in a straight line, before returning to our room.

We would see Marco again.
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