EROTICA | WIFE SHARING | SIZE QUEEN

The Surprise Houseguest (Part 1)

CATCHING A BIG ONE: BOOK 3. Trapped in a vacation rental in the Florida keys, a tropical storm pouring sheets of rain down on their holiday plans, Casey and Kendra were trying to figure out what to do when something truly unexpected happens. That’s when they meet Rodrigo and their marriage would never be the same.

The first of a 10-part series. Don’t forget to read all the way to the bottom, clap, and comment! And click FOLLOW on the ACHE pub, to make sure you don’t miss the exciting stories coming everyday.

Just our luck, I thought, staring at the sheets of water pouring out of the sky. My wife, Kendra, and I had rented this vacation house in Lower Matecumbe Key, of the Florida Keys, for a week of relaxing ‘fun in the sun.’ It was supposed to be our 15th anniversary celebratory trip. As I stared out the window, I hoped this wasn’t an omen for the next 15.

The house looked magnificent online. Beachfront access with our own dock. Privacy on the patio facing the water. And lots of room inside. I just knew this was going to be a great week.

And it was when we arrived on Sunday afternoon. Beautiful. We walked on the beach that night; the cool, salty sea breeze caressing our skin and filling our lungs with the crisp, clean scent of the ocean. That night we made tender love on the patio, naked out in the open for the first time since we first met! So much fun!

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Any time someone says they are happy on a TV series or movie, something terrible is about to happen. It’s inevitable. And you’d be right.

Our ‘inevitable’ came Monday morning. Ominous clouds started pouring across our star-filled sky as darkness gave way to dawn. Rain soon followed. Tropical Storm Fiona had arrived, dumping inches of water on us hour after hour. We found ourselves trapped inside after only one day of vacation bliss.

Worse, the forecast was calling for more of the same. A low-pressure front had stalled the storm right over our area. We could be stuck inside most of the week, the forecasters predicted. At least the storm would not produce a hurricane, they claimed. Just lots and lots of rain.

Thankfully, the house is well-built and seems designed for handling water, keeping it outside. As long as we remain safe within its walls, I figured we can stay dry and comfortable while we wait it out. Let’s just hope we don’t lose power. That would certainly be the topper on our vacation cake, don’t you think?

My mood continued to sour as I stared at rain so thick all I could see were heavy drops pelting the windows. I had hoped the tension of our daily lives would seep away with every minute feeling those glorious rays of light. Guess not…**

Don’t get me wrong, there are advantages to being trapped inside. I was really looking forward to the hot tub and king-sized bed to release other tensions which hadn’t gotten as much ‘relieving’ as we would like in recent months. Our Midwest winter had been especially harsh this year: brutally cold with way too much snow. When we weren’t working or taking care of our three kids, we were scraping ice and shoveling the white stuff wherever it would go. That left little time for us to share the love that still burned hot and bright, even after fifteen years.

We just needed a break. My parents graciously volunteered to take the kids for the week, and we were off! Now, this… At least the hot tub was in a covered part of the patio!

Unfortunately, I felt a lack of enthusiasm for even that. The thought of sitting in the hot tub while rain fell everywhere around us just soured my mood further.

I turned to look at Kendra, wrapped in a throw blanket on the sofa, reading a book on her tablet.

She looked up at me, smiling. “No sense in staring at it, babe. Not going to make the sun come out any sooner.”

I manufactured the best grin imitation I could, sitting beside her. She’s right, of course. Being morose will not change the course of our week.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“Just one of my smut books.”

I chuckled at that. My wife loved her erotic stories. Some years ago, her mother had given her a stack of books. Buried in the middle of typical romances and historical fiction (with a romantic twist, of course) was a book that… Well, one I couldn’t believe her church-going mother would even consider reading. This one gave every explicit detail of the sex scenes that seemed the very core of the story. Gone was the typical romantic ‘They kissed and the door closed behind them’ soft language of her usual books.

This first smut book told the story of a woman whose husband had lost interest in sex. He gave her permission to go elsewhere for her needs. Let me tell you, that woman definitely went elsewhere! She apparently discovered many ‘needs’ along the way. Kendra had used my shaft mercilessly after finishing that one.

She told me about this incredible book in the stack, saying I should read it. We had a good laugh, wondering how many of these her mother might have read.

After that, she got hooked and devoured book after book. She soon discovered ebooks on her tablet, and her catalog grew. She barely reads anything else. Nowadays, she spends most of her reading time consuming an ever-naughtier collection of them.

Not that I’m complaining. You might think this would absorb all her erotic interest, leaving her still-horny husband out of her attention. Not Kendra. This new discovery spiced up our lovemaking something fierce. I found myself hanging around the family room where she did most of her reading.

When she was done, sometimes even in the middle, Kendra would drag me into our bedroom and… what can I say… had her way with me? Humped me with abandon? Oh, yes… the stories got her seriously aroused.

Several months after she had changed her reading habits, I wanted to know what had gotten my wife so… interested. I opened her tablet for a quick read of the stories when she was out with the kids one afternoon.

What I found wasn’t all that positive, frankly. They say if you can track a person’s porn-viewing habits, you can develop a pretty accurate read on what excites them. Their ‘fetish,’ so to speak.

This was definitely the case with my wife. At first, the stories were all over the place. Everything from ‘steamy romances’ all the way to gangbangs and even some light BDSM. But the pattern of her preferences emerged quickly.

By the time I did my review, several months later, all the stories had become more focused on one ‘fetish.’ She favored stories about big guys with massive shafts who ‘took’ the leading lady to ‘places’ she had never been before. The heroines often became quite submissive to the men wielding those massive tools inside them.

I can say openly here that this did not describe my wife at all. Not that she was dominant or anything. Just that she was open about her desires and had no trouble expecting me to be a part of them. I liked it too. In and out of bed, we formed a good partnership. I led sometimes, she the others. It worked for us. I would never have described myself as one of those weak ‘cuckolds’ that seemed to do whatever the wife wanted in those stories. Not like that at all.

But reading only books of one kind…

It bothered me some in the beginning. Her husband definitely did not fit that description. I was a civil engineer, not much taller than she was. And definitely not massive on the equipment front. Barely average, if not a little smaller. She didn’t have trouble climaxing with me, she said. I guess there’s that.

Still, I wasn’t sure what to make of her focusing so much on guys who weren’t like me. This discovery left little seeds of doubt I simply wasn’t prepared to face.

“What’s this one about?” I asked innocently, sitting on the sofa next to her. Kendra had a habit of sitting at one end of the sofa while she read, her legs tucked under her.

“Oh, you know. A girl meets a guy. Guy makes it with girl,” she giggled. “The usual.”

I chuckled. Kendra always seemed too embarrassed to tell me the plot. I had to discover her fantasy about enormous shafts on my own.

In a sense, how my wife started reading this erotic stuff may have been the greatest mystery of them all. Everywhere else, my wife was almost too conservative. Despite her trim body, ample chest, and beautiful looks, she always dressed as if she were headed for church. I shook my head as she unpacked her knee-length shorts and loose blouses when we arrived at the vacation house. Even her swimsuit was a one-piece that showed almost nothing.

In her late 30s, Kendra had decided that ‘more conservative than thou’ was the right dress for her.

Thankfully, she brought some very risqué lingerie and robes. This seemed in keeping with her revived imagination. I guess in our bedroom, everything is acceptable.

Yet her reading showed a fantasy life that way exceeded my own. Maybe I should worry about it more, but I couldn’t. In the end, who cares? I could fret about the situation endlessly, or accept that my normally reserved wife had these fantasies that got her going.

Despite her fantasies featuring large men with enormous equipment, unlike her husband, our intimate life remained fairly active. I never got the impression she was pushing me away in favor of some fantasy ‘Mr. Big,’ nor that she wanted to act on it. It was just a fantasy. We all have them, don’t we?

Over time, those initial concerns gave way to my becoming more philosophical about it. I figured, if this turned her on, why should I try to stop it? She had as much right to be happy as anyone else. By the time we made our trip to Florida, I had accepted that she needed an outlet for her desires, and hoped she could satisfy this craving through her books. The alternative was not attractive. Not sure I could handle her running around on me.

She put the tablet to the side, cuddling up against me. “It’s been a good 15 years, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” I replied. “So good.”

At least, that’s what I thought. Little did I know that this would be the last night of our ‘normal’ life. We were about to embark on a new journey that would shake our relationship, adding new wrinkles and building on old ones. Our marriage would never be the same.

Before I could say more, a loud crashing sound ripped through this marital interlude. It came from the dock area outside. The noise was so loud it shook the windows, even over the hammering of the rain. I quickly grabbed a raincoat and an umbrella, pulled on some shoes, and ran outside. Kendra was right behind me.

The umbrella didn’t help with this driving rain, but it kept the water out of our eyes. We ran down the path to the water, trying to avoid the puddles that were everywhere. Nothing could stop the water coming down around us.

We saw the damage as soon as the beach was visible. A large fishing cruiser had smashed into the dock, taking several pylons with it. It had run aground on the beach. The impact had ripped a clearly visible gash across the hull. That boat would never float again.

We moved closer hesitantly, worried there might be fuel spills on board. The damage was extensive. Something had torn open parts of the pilothouse; whether the storm or the impact with the dock, it was hard to say. Whatever the reason, we could see into the main cabin.

We heard a groan over the roar of the storm. Somebody’s in there! I jumped on board over the tilted side lower to the beach, making my way through the rubble strewn everywhere. A guy was on the deck, near the captain’s chair, struggling to get up. No one else. I hoped he was sailing alone, and that the waves hadn’t swept anyone else overboard.

I reached him just as he stood up, gripping the side rail for support. He held his head while struggling to keep himself upright. Must have hit his head on impact.

“Are you okay?” I yelled over the rain, placing my hand on his back to help him balance.

While he tried to right himself, I looked around. This ship had been through a terrible ordeal. Water had flooded the lower cabin, and the water had thrown everything inside wherever it pleased. Most of it was gone forever.

He looked at me, startled by the words and the touch. “Hey, man. Thanks. What happened?”

“You ran aground in the storm, hit the dock. Boat’s not looking so good.”

“Perfect,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.

“The decks below are filled with water,” I told him. “Lucky you crashed here. Might have gone down if you had stayed at sea.”

“It got pretty rough for a while. Some of that down there is my offering to the sea gods,” he chuckled, though there was no mirth in that laugh. Only the memory of being tossed around by an unforgiving sea and the stomach distress that came with it.

“You know the old country song,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans.”

“They got that right,” he said, chuckling as he looked around at what remained of his boat. “Won’t be replacing this one. My sailing days are over.”

I nodded. Likely a good idea. Anyone who would go out to sea without checking the weather first… Such a person should not be a sailor.

“Let’s get you inside, out of the storm,” I said. “We can worry about the damage later.” He agreed.

We jumped off the side. He stopped to look at the former hull that would no longer stop any water.

“Holy hell. That dock left a mark,” he said.

“Not sure this one will ever be seaworthy again.”

“Who cares?” He said, as he walked around the bow, trying to see the dock through the pouring rain. “I’m not sure that dock will ever be the same either.”

“Nope,” I agreed. The hanging shards of wooden planks and splintered pylons stood as testament to the momentum of the boat shearing off chunks as if they had never existed. It looked like Godzilla had taken a bite out of it.

Kendra offered the umbrella as we approached. He declined. Not sure it would have mattered anyway. We were all getting drenched.

At least my wife and I were. This guy hardly noticed. He was long past being soaked. He looked as if he’d been dunked in the ocean several times. His T-shirt had a rip on the side where he must have fallen. Considering what he had gone through, he had come out in remarkably good shape.

The man introduced himself as Rodrigo when we got out of the downpour onto the covered part of the patio, shaking the water off. I introduced us as Kendra and Casey, renters of the house for the week. He told us what happened.

“I bought this boat used several years ago when I first got the house down here. Took it out a couple of times for sightseeing. This was my first time taking it out into the deep water for fishing. Neighbors told me I shouldn’t go out by myself. Shit happens, they warned… excuse the language. I figured December was past the storm season. I should be fine. Naturally, saying something like that guaranteed it wouldn’t be. The storm came on me faster than I could outrun it. Who knew you were supposed to check the weather before going out?” he chuckled. “What can I say? I’m an idiot.”

Kendra and I both laughed with him, though I could see he was just trying to cover his embarrassment at making such a catastrophic mistake.

“I drove the motor too hard trying to get back near land. It conked out fairly early,” he went on. “I’ve been drifting wherever the storm took me ever since. Where am I, by the way?”

“Lower Matecumbe Key, of the Florida Keys,” I told him. “Where’d you start from?”

“Key Biscayne, south of Miami. I have a house up there. Snowbird down every winter.”

While talking, he stripped his shirt off, trying to dry himself with it. I heard a soft gasp from my wife in the doorway. I looked back at her, wondering what had happened. All I had to do was follow eyes that were fastened on Rodrigo. I turned toward him again, inspecting our new houseguest for the first time.

His name and olive-skin told of a Latin heritage, but that wasn’t what caught my wife’s attention. He was huge! Well into mid-six-feet and built like a linebacker. His tree-trunk arms and broad, heavily muscled chest had resisted the wet T-shirt removal. The guy had to be a major weightlifter with muscles this defined and thickly braided. I wondered briefly if he was on steroids or something. Most of the huge muscle men like him seemed to be.

I smiled, standing next to this massive man, knowing what she was thinking. Rodrigo was big, handsome, and muscular, like something right out of one of her smut books. And with his cargo shorts soaked through, I could see his equipment below matched the size of the rest of him. My wife was struggling to keep her stare above his waist.

The guy didn’t seem to notice as we made our way inside. He wrung his shirt out in the kitchen sink. “I’m just glad the boat drifted in this direction. Didn’t expect to stay out long. Barely had food and water for a day.”

“Did you try to radio for help?” I asked.

That got him laughing again. “That just shows how much of a newbie I was. Couldn’t get it to work. Though truthfully, I’m not sure it ever worked. This was my first time using it.”

“You’re lucky,” I said. “If the wind had taken you in the other direction…”

“Don’t remind me,” he grinned, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Kendra and I exchanged a look. This guy had been incredibly lucky! The other direction would almost certainly have meant death from dehydration or drowning. The ocean is vast. I had floated across it in the US Navy days of my youth. Getting lost there is way too easy.

“The news says a low-pressure spot has stalled right over the area,” I told him. “This storm might lash us for several days, they’re saying. Being stuck in that boat in the middle of a tropical storm might have been a miserable experience, if not worse.”

“Eliminated any plans I might have had about becoming a part-time sailor, that’s for sure. I’m just wondering how much it’ll cost me to get that piece-of-shit off your beach and repair the dock. I have insurance. Just not sure what they cover.”

That was when my wife finally found her voice. She was always the practical one.

“You look miserable. There are towels in the bathroom cabinet. Hand out your clothes when you get in there. I’ll get them washed and dried. There’s a robe on the back of the door. Came with the house. No clue if it will fit a guy your size.”

Those words, ‘your size,’ had a tone that Rodrigo and I both caught. He looked at me with a wry grin. “No problem,” he said. “I can wrap a towel around me if it doesn’t.” He said that with a wink, which made my wife blush a deep red.

I worried she would start panting at those words. And the funny part? I wasn’t mad, or even jealous. Only excitement filled my muddled brain as I confirmed this guy was right out of those silly stories she loves.

Her tone created some very smutty thoughts in her husband. Dirty thoughts of her… and him… and how many times she could climax.

To be continued in Part 2…

From the book available on you favorite digital bookseller:

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