An Eye for Aesthetics Part One — Jeremy Edwards

She’d never even fantasized about a foursome, let alone contemplated it seriously. She’d never fantasized about a threesome, for that matter. Colleen had healthy carnal appetites and a vivid sexual imagination, but her creativity generally ran to exotic one-on-one vignettes.

But the two characters hogging the cruise ship’s billiard table were so aesthetic to Colleen. And all she could think about since first setting eyes on them was what it might be like for them to come to bed in her cabin—the small but serviceable cabin in which she and her husband had been fucking every night since they’d embarked. As an antiques dealer, Colleen knew that anything that appealed to her finely tuned sense of aesthetics was guaranteed to excite her.

Taken separately, she might have logged the guy for fantasy time with her vibe, or appreciated the woman in a detached way. But taken as a unit, they beckoned her to an adventure that was, without exaggeration, beyond anything she’d dreamed of.

The woman was exquisite to the point of being alluring—and up until now Colleen hadn’t even thought she liked girls. With a delicate nose and full, sensual lips, her face appeared at once impassioned and ethereal. Her medium-blonde hair frizzed down from a perfect white hat—straw with a black band—and her every gesture emphasized her elegance. Colleen admired the bold line of the woman’s hip, the fleshiness of her legs, and the creamy texture of her complexion. But most of all Colleen admired the woman’s inherent grace. Poised with her pool cue, this art-quality beauty looked restless, a bundle of sexy energy in a dashing blue-striped sundress. She seemed indifferent toward the game—they both did—and Colleen could easily have believed the woman’s real mission here was not to shoot pool, but to be photographed for some classy magazine. And yet there was no photographer in sight.

As for the man . . . well, everything about him reminded Colleen why she liked men—at least a certain type of man. The beanpole legs in ocean-blue jeans. The angular jaw balanced against soft eyes. The shagginess of the chestnut-brown hair, counterpoised with the nerdy neatness of the button-down collar. He seemed confident but not cocky, patient yet animated. Colleen couldn’t hear the things he was saying to his lover, but they made the woman laugh—and occasionally blush—and the tableau made Colleen go wet in her tight little shorts. There was no denying it: she wanted them.

It was a big ship, and one didn’t necessarily run across the same people very often. Fortunately, she had more than half the vacation week left to do “show and tell” with Doug and, if he could be won over to the scenario, make her advances. Colleen felt the heat rising to her face as she realized how brazenly she was plotting this unprecedented seduction.

That night, when Doug was completely on top of her, as close as possible to every bit of her and touching every place he could reach, her mind raced with images of the stranger couple. She imagined the woman bent over the billiard table, with her skirt lifted so her guy could play with her pretty pussy. She saw the eyes of the skinny man glowing, and the rod in his jeans thickening. Far from distracting Colleen from the layered pleasure of Doug’s cock in her slit, his fingers on her ass, and his breath on her throat, these images enriched the experience dramatically. And when Doug twiddled her raging clit and released his warmth inside her, she rattled the billiard table in her mind with her cabin-shaking scream.

***

Doug touched her hand as they sat on deck with their coffees. “That was fucking hot last night,” he purred. “You were fucking hot.”

Colleen shifted in her seat, enjoying the way her bikini bottoms clung to her as she did so. “Doug,” she said with a vacation-time ease that had a current of thrill beneath it, “you know what would be really super-hot?”

The light in his pupils intensified by a few extra degrees. “What?”

“If sometime, just once maybe, we could . . . play . . . with another couple.” It didn’t surprise her that she could come right out with it. She could tell Doug anything, however shocking or out of the blue.

His look became serious. “Huh? I—I don’t know, baby. I’m not sure I . . . I mean I never . . . ” He squeezed her arm, tenderly. “Is this something you’ve been wanting?” He was always very earnest where her happiness was concerned.

“I didn’t,” she explained. “Not before. But then I saw—” She halted in mid-sentence, her eye caught by two figures at the other end of the deck. “Look!” she whispered with vigor, pointing them out.

Doug turned his head discreetly, and noncommittally, to get a glimpse. Then he turned back, relaxing into one of those crinkly smiles that Colleen adored. He took another quick glance. “Them?” He uttered the word as if it were a sliver of silk.

Colleen nodded.

“Interesting, baby. Interesting.”

But just as wife and husband arrived at their coffee-cup understanding, the other couple vanished. And the days that followed saw Colleen keyed up, nervous, and in a perpetual state of semiarousal. She felt as if she and Doug were on a treasure hunt, constantly wondering if the aesthetic couple would appear around the next corner, materialize at the next table, or emerge through the next doorway.

In the cabin, it took little to push Colleen over the edge into dripping, desperate horniness, and Doug fucked her and licked her so many times that her sex-addled brain couldn’t keep count.

“Even if we never see them again, they’ve done us a big favor,” Doug said hoarsely as he scraped his cock rambunctiously in and out of Colleen’s slick pussy on Thursday night. This direct allusion to the couple they wanted to fuck went straight to Colleen’s erotic center. She ground herself wildly against her mate as yet another electric orgasm ripped through her libido-charged body.

Doug spoke casually while sitting on the cabin’s only chair to put his socks back on. “You know, I bet the reason we haven’t seen them is that they’ve been busy screwing each other’s asses off, too.”

That did it for Colleen—did it again. Propped against the headboard, she spread her legs and rubbed herself furiously, with Doug watching in gleeful fascination. She envisioned the frizzy-haired woman straddling the long-legged guy somewhere on this ship, his thin fingers clutching her breasts and her blonde pubic fur teasing his hard-on. Within seconds, Colleen’s head was cocked backward into the pillows, her mouth open in the sugary throes of self-induced climax.

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Jeremy Edwards is the author of the erotocomedic novel Rock My Socks Off and the erotic story collection Spark My Moment (both published by Xcite Books). His libidinous short stories have been widely published online, as well as in over forty anthologies. His work was selected for The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, vols. 7, 8, and 9, and he has read at New York’s In the Flesh and Philadelphia’s Erotic Literary Salon. Jeremy’s greatest goal in life is to be sexy and witty at the same moment—ideally in lighting that flatters his profile. Find Jeremy here: http://www.jeremyedwardserotica.com.