Chapter 32: Voyeuristic Vetting
The champagne bottle sweated icy beads onto the silver bucket. Frangipani scent, thick and sweet, coiled through the lounge, mingling with the salt tang and an undercurrent of aroused female musk. Jasmine, naked and glorious, straddled Bruce’s lap on the deep cream sofa, her incredible ass a dark, perfect globe resting against his thighs. His swim trunks tented obscenely beneath her. Her green eyes, fierce and knowing, held his hazel gaze as she slowly, deliberately, ground her slick cunt down against the hard ridge of his cock through the fabric. The friction drew a low groan from him, his hands settling heavily on her thick waist.
"Alright, tiger," Jasmine purred, her voice a throaty rasp. She didn't stop moving her hips, a slow, insistent rotation that made the damp fabric cling. "The menu's set. Four courses of prime cock. Let's hear the specials."
Lena, kneeling on the plush rug near Bruce's feet, her thick thighs spread wide, didn't need prompting. Her fingers were already busy between her legs, circling her clit. Her small, perky tits bounced faintly with the rhythm. "Eduardo," she moaned, her voice thick. "Rio. Soccer player. Thick." She pushed two fingers deep into her glistening pussy, gasping. "Oh fuck, Bruce… like my wrist. Thick." She pulled her fingers out, slick and shining, then plunged them back in with a wet squelch. "Wants to fuck slow… deep… make me feel every inch stretching me…" Her eyes rolled back slightly. "But his ass game… Dios mio. He loves it. Says he’ll take his time… lube me up… then push that fat cockhead into my tight little hole…" She whimpered, her hips bucking against her hand. "Stretch my ass wide open… fuck me deep until I scream. Make me take it all…"
Bruce’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into Jasmine’s hips as he watched Lena finger-fuck herself raw while describing the violation of her ass. Jasmine grinned, feeling the jerk of his cock beneath her. She ground down harder.
Ketut sat cross-legged on a cushion nearby, her dark eyes wide, watching Lena with a mixture of awe and burgeoning hunger. At her name, she flinched, her cheeks flushing. "Stefan," she whispered, her voice barely audible over Lena’s wet sounds. "Berlin. Musician." Her fingers, tentative, traced the dark curls between her thighs. "Gentle. Patient." A tiny whimper escaped her. "But… big. Long… thick." She swallowed hard, picturing the profile photo Jasmine had shown her. "He… he said… he wants to savor me." Her fingers dipped lower, brushing her untouched folds. She gasped. "Said… he’ll make me feel safe… while he… ruins my tight little Balinese pussy." Her breathing quickened. "Said he’ll fill me so slow… stretch me so wide… make sure I come… before he even starts… really fucking me." Her small hand pressed flat against her mound, her knuckles white. "Oh…"
Camille stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, her back to the turquoise panorama. Her thick legs were slightly apart, her hand buried under the neat thatch of dark curls. She was fingering herself with slow, deep thrusts, her eyes closed. At the mention of Marcus, her rhythm stuttered, then intensified. "Marcus," she breathed, her voice low, resonant, thick with need. She opened her eyes. They weren't looking at Bruce or the others; they stared into some deep, dark space within. Her fingers pumped harder, deeper, the wet sounds audible now. "Singapore. Finance." A shudder ran through her. "The curve… Bruce…" Her other hand came up, pinching and twisting her stiff nipple. "That brutal fucking curve." Her hips began to roll against her thrusting hand. "He knows… knows how to use it. Gonna press that thick, curved head against my pussy…" She gasped, her head falling back. "Push… inch by inch… stretching me around that impossible bend…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, raw and ragged. "Feel it grinding… rubbing… hitting places… places you never reach, my love." Her body tensed, fingers working furiously inside her swollen cunt. "Deep inside… destroying me… making me come around that curve like… like a fucking fountain." A low moan tore from her throat.
Bruce’s knuckles were white on Jasmine’s hips. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his trunks. Sweat beaded on his temples. He watched Camille lost in the vision of Marcus’s cock, her own fingers mimicking the violation she craved. The sight, the words – places you never reach – sent a jolt of pure, agonizing arousal through him, mixed with a sharp, possessive ache.
Jasmine leaned forward, her lips brushing Bruce’s ear. Her breath was hot. "And mine," she growled, her voice vibrating with anticipation. She shifted, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks. In one smooth, strong motion, she yanked them down over his hips, freeing his thick, rigid cock. She didn’t hesitate. Grasping his shaft, she positioned the swollen head against her soaking wet entrance. She sank down slowly, moaning deeply as she impaled herself on his length, stretching her slick cunt wide. "Fuck, Bruce… you’re thick," she gasped, sinking all the way down until his pelvis met her ass. She began to ride him, hard and fast from the start, her powerful thighs working, her incredible ass clenching with each downward thrust.
"Raj," she panted, bouncing on his cock, her tits swaying. Her hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing furiously in tight circles. "Mumbai. Doctor. Big fuckin’ balls… heavy cock." She threw her head back, crying out as Bruce’s cock slammed into her depths. "Said he likes to take… fuck a woman until she weeps… respectfully." She grinned fiercely down at Bruce, her green eyes blazing. "He’s gonna see this ass…" She slammed down hard, making Bruce grunt. "See this cunt…" She ground her hips, milking his shaft. "And he’s gonna break me with that thick black cock." Her voice rose, raw and triumphant. "He’s gonna fill me so full… fuck me so deep… make me scream louder than any of them!" She punctuated each word with a punishing downward thrust, her fingers a blur on her swollen clit. "LOUDER!"
The lounge was a cacophony of need. Lena’s wet squelching and choked cries as she imagined Eduardo splitting her ass. Ketut’s soft, desperate whimpers as she tentatively rubbed her clit, picturing Stefan’s patient ruin. Camille’s low, guttural moans and the slick sounds of her fingers plunging into her own pussy, lost in the promise of Marcus’s curve. And Jasmine, riding Bruce like a storm, her body a symphony of motion and noise as she claimed him while declaring Raj’s future conquest.
Bruce was drowning in it. Jasmine’s tight, wet heat clamping down on his cock, the visual feast of his wives lost in their chosen fantasies, the raw, filthy descriptions hanging in the perfumed air. The possessiveness warred with the deep, dark arousal Camille’s admission had ignited. Places you never reach. The image of Marcus’s curved weapon spearing into her, fulfilling his fantasy, pushed him dangerously close.
Jasmine felt him swell, pulse, tense beneath her. "Not yet, big guy," she gasped, slowing her frenetic pace, clenching her inner muscles hard around his shaft, making him curse. "Gotta book the fuckin’ place first." She rolled her hips slowly, deeply, milking him, keeping him on the agonizing edge. Her eyes, glittering with challenge, locked onto his. "So…" she breathed, her voice thick with exertion and lust. "When… when should we… host this… feast?" She punctuated the question with another slow, grinding descent, taking him to the hilt.
Bruce gasped, the sensation, the overwhelming pressure of it all – Jasmine’s cunt gripping him, the sounds, the scents, the imminent reality of his fantasy – tore the words from him. "Friday," he rasped, his voice strained, his hips lifting involuntarily against her grinding weight. "They… they said… Friday?" It was a plea, a confirmation, a surrender. The champagne bottle stood silent and cold in its bucket, a countdown begun.
The champagne bottle stood silent and cold in its bucket, a countdown begun. Jasmine’s triumphant laugh ripped through the humid air, sharp and victorious. “Fuck yes, Friday!” she crowed, her hips never ceasing their punishing rhythm on Bruce’s cock, her inner walls clamping down hard, milking him brutally as she rode his rigid length. She leaned back, arching her spine, presenting her incredible ass, glistening with sweat, to the room, the movement forcing Bruce even deeper inside her slick, clenching heat. “You hear that, bitches? Daddy booked the fuck-fest for Friday!”
Lena whimpered, the sound muffled against the plush rug as she ground her face into it, her fingers a frantic blur buried deep in her asshole, mimicking Eduardo’s promised invasion. Her thick thighs trembled violently. “Si… si… Friday… Eduardo’s fat cock… oh fuck… tearing my ass open Friday!” she gasped, her voice thick with spit and tears of overwhelmed arousal. Her other hand was a blur on her swollen clit. Sweat plastered dark curls to her forehead.
Ketut, still perched on her cushion, watched Jasmine’s powerful display with wide, dark eyes, her own breath coming in shallow gasps. Her tentative fingers were finally inside her tight little slit, pumping shallowly, slickness coating her knuckles. “F-Friday,” she echoed, barely audible, a tremor in her voice. “Stefan… Friday.” A soft, confused moan escaped her as her fingers probed deeper, stretching her own virgin tightness. The reality slammed into her, stealing her breath: a thick foreign cock would be splitting her open in days.
Camille’s fingers stilled inside her dripping wetness, slick sounds pausing abruptly. She stood frozen by the window, the turquoise vista forgotten. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the window frame. Places he never reaches. Marcus’s brutal curve. Bruce had just made it real. A wave of dizzying arousal warred with a sharp pang of something cold and fearful in her gut. Why did she say that to him? Was he upset? I know he’s seen me with plenty of other men at this point, was it too much? She vowed to check in with him later.
“Don’t you fucking dare come yet, Bruce,” Jasmine snarled, sensing the telltale tension coiling in his body beneath her. She slammed down harder, grinding her clit against his pubic bone, the rough friction making her cry out. “Not until I say! Not until it’s booked!” Her green eyes, fierce and demanding, locked onto Camille’s across the room. “Camille! His phone! Get his fucking phone! Now!”
The command snapped Camille back. She pushed away from the window, her movements stiff, her cunt aching and slick. She crossed the polished floor, her bare feet silent, avoiding looking directly at Bruce trapped beneath Jasmine’s undulating form. She spotted his phone beside the champagne bucket. Her fingers, still glistening with her own wetness, trembled slightly as she picked up the cool device.
“Here,” Camille whispered, her voice tight, holding the phone out towards the writhing couple. She kept her gaze fixed on the dark screen.
“Unlock it!” Jasmine barked, never slowing the deep, demanding plunge of her pussy onto Bruce’s cock. She leaned forward, her large, dark nipples brushing his chest, her lips close to his ear. “Tell her the code, Bruce. Tell her now.” Her inner muscles clenched viciously, a velvet fist demanding obedience.
Bruce’s head thrashed on the cushion. Sweat streamed down his temples. “Nine… two… seven… one… fuck… Jasmine!” he gasped, hips jerking helplessly upwards into her tight, wet heat as she squeezed him impossibly hard.
Camille’s fingers moved numbly, tapping the code. The screen lit up. She held it out again, hovering near Jasmine’s shoulder. “It’s unlocked.” Her voice was flat, detached.
“App! The booking app!” Jasmine commanded, her own breathing harsh. She shifted her weight, grinding her clit relentlessly against him, seeking her own peak now, her rhythm becoming frantic, desperate. “Villa… the Ulu one… Friday… three days… BOOK IT!”
Her words were punctuated by the wet, rhythmic slap of her ass against Bruce’s thighs, her moans rising in pitch. Camille fumbled with the phone, her fingers slippery. She found the app, navigated with jerky movements. The confirmation screen appeared. “It’s… selected. The Ulu cliff villa. Three nights. Starting Friday.” Her voice sounded alien to her own ears.
“PAYMENT!” Jasmine screamed, her body tightening, arching impossibly high. “CONFIRM IT! DO IT, CAMILLE! FUCKING BOOK FRIDAY!”
Bruce roared, a raw, guttural sound torn from his chest. Jasmine’s demanding cunt, the pressure, the sheer fucking power of her riding him while commanding his wife… it was too much. His balls drew up tight, heat exploded at the base of his spine. “JASMINE!” He erupted inside her, thick pulses of cum jetting deep into her grasping channel as his hips bucked wildly off the sofa.
“YES! TAKE IT! FUCKING FILL ME!” Jasmine shrieked, her own orgasm detonating, her pussy clamping and rippling around his spurting cock in violent waves. Her body convulsed atop his, her incredible ass flexing. “CAMILLE! BOOK IT! CONFIRM THE PAYMENT! BOOK FRIDAY, YOU COWARDLY BITCH!”
The shout, the raw obscenity aimed at her, the sight of Bruce emptying himself into Jasmine, the finality of the button on the screen – it shattered Camille’s paralysis. Her thumb stabbed down hard on the ‘Confirm Booking’ button. A soft chime sounded from the phone.
“Done,” Camille breathed, the word barely a whisper lost in the cacophony of Jasmine’s keening cries and Bruce’s ragged groans. She stared at the confirmation message blinking back at her: Booking Confirmed. Ulu Cliff Villa. Arrival: Friday.
They book Friday.