Temptation of the Young Wife - Part One, a short story by Becky. Date added: 2012-07-30. Times viewed: 4100.
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- Intro: A rich man's beautiful young wife is tempted by a young surfer
The Temptation of the Young Wife - Part One - By Becky
The hot July sun beat down on Jessica White's already tanned body as she lay on her back on the private beach. A pink bikini covered her modesty and a Pina Colada sat nestled in the sand beside her blonde tresses. She sat upright and took a sip of the melting drink through the staw. It made a slurping sound which she immediately stopped for fear of waking her husband who lay on the beach towel beside her. Mitch White slept on his side with a bottle of beer beside his head. The beer produced by one of the breweries which he proudly owned and bullishly ran
His small but prominent pot belly spilled over onto the hot sand, a mass of hair ran from his shorts, up his chest to his neck, a small gap of white skin separated this hair from his stubbly beard. He grunted and mumbled in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of yelling at his junion executives. They had been married for two years now, he in his late forties and she a girl of 24. Admittedly she had married him for his money, an act which went against every feminist principle she had held dear in college.
He was a powerful business leader in the board room, but a dull tedious man in the bedroom. Weekly she submitted to his advances and simply lay there as he thrusted weakly for around 3 minutes, then climaxed with a grunt, he was tiny. His one redeeming feature was his generosity. He denied her nothing material, showering her with gifts and taking her on trips. His pool was for her exclusive use, a retinue for 5 servants catered to her every whim. Her shoes even had their own walk in wardrobe. She drank champagne at every glittering function she accompanied him to, and expensive sounding cocktails at home. Her husband was often curt and rude but never abusive or violent.
She was afraid to wake him for two reasons. One, he would be grumpy at the trivial annoyance of her slurping and two; she was getting an eyeful of the handsome young surfer who had strayed onto the stretch of the island's shore that her husband, in his wealth, claimed was his. The surfers slim but muscular torso was smooth and deeply tanned. He flicked his hair out of his eyes which sent droplets of water falling back into the sea from where they came. He carried a large yellow board under his left arm. She knew it was rude to stare but she could not keep her eyes off the young lovely. At first he did not notice her but then, doing an almost comedic double take, he cast eyes on her and was instantly taken with the young blonde. He stared dumbly for a while, she giggled. Embarrassed he looked away. She checked on her husband, he was still snoozing, the five beers he had drank working like a charm,
The surfer waded a little way into the sea then broke into a run, he mounted his board and started paddling out. She looked on, fascinated as he waited for a wave to come. Soon the brown form of the young man, rose up in the distance as he stood up on his board. He got closer and closer as the crest of the wave followed him. Then...oh no she thought...he had fallen from the board and disappeared from view. She stood up and looked for him. After a tense few seconds he emerged: smiling, from the ocean and started wading back to shore, his blue trunks soaked. She smiled back at him with relief and admiration that he was even able to stand on the board at all. A feat she could not even contemplate.
She gave him a clap. He grinned and bowed. Her husband stirred beside her, the sound of her applause had woken him. He sat up and looked around groggily. Then he saw the surfer. "Hey!" the husband bellowed "this is a private beach!" The young man simply stood and looked at him. He husband then struggled to his feet. "Are you deaf? This is a private beach! And I'm the owner!" Again the surfer simply stood there in silent defiance. The husband began to walk over to where his new rival stood. "Mitch leave it!" she implored but he took no heed. She followed him anxiously.
Didn't you hear me dickhead? This is my beach! Now clear off!"
"Make me."
The fat brewer pushed the surfer agressively in his muscular chest. The young man staggered back a little but stood his ground. Jessica grew more worried, but at the same time a kind of wild excitement took hold of her. The two men were around the same height but the young man looked strong
Her husband was flabby from years of rich food and easy living. He pushed the surfer again, harder. The surfer swung a fast punch and hit the husbands cheek with an audible smack. The husband reeled, a look of shock and horror in his eyes. The surfer punched him again bloodying his nose. "Stop!" she cried but the word had no relation to what she really wanted. The husband swung two wild punches, both of which the other man dodged. He threw rapid, powerful jabs at the husbands round belly a few times in succession, making the older man grunt. The husband grabbed at him, dragged him to the sand and the two men began to wrestle. They rolled in the sand tumbling and grappling. The athletic young boy quickly got the upper hand and was soon straddling the husbands waste pummeling him mercilessly in the head.
"Stop it you'll kill him!" cried Jessica.
The young man, like his older rival had done moments before, ignored her pleas and continued beating her arrogant spouse until he stopped moving.
Panting the surfer stood up. "You idiot you've killed him!" she screamed as she ran over to where her man lay flat on his back. Relieved she saw his chest gently rise and fall. She looked up at the surfer who stared blankly at her. "What were you thinking, attacking my husband like that?"
"He started it blondie, he pushed me."
"First of all my name isn't blondie, it's Jessica, or Mrs White to you, second of all, this is his private beach, you should have left when he told you to."
"You can't like own a beach it belongs to everyone."
His words awakened something in her, a memory of a time when she believed in things, radical things, an era less than a decade ago. She shrugged off the strange feeling and turned to her husband. His face was covered in blood, the sand around him was dotted with red. She moved him into what she vaguely understood to be the recovery position.
“Look Jess I’m really sorry”
“It’s Jessica and I don’t care, just get out of here.”
As the surfer boy walked away she could not take her eyes off his muscular back, sprinkled with sand from the fight, and his perfect ass. She turned her attentions back to her husband, he was starting to come round. He mumbled, opened his eyes and let out a long groan.
“Honey are you ok?” she asked
“That…little thug. He…he”
“Shh baby don’t try to talk.” She stroked his chest.
Her husband struggled to his feet and looked around in a daze. He saw the young surfer walking away in the distance but made no attempt to pursue. “Give me your phone. I’m gonna call resort security.”
“It’s out of battery” she lied.
“I feel dizzy.” He said swaying. She encouraged him to lean on her and she helped him to the jeep. She drove him to the medical centre and waited outside while he was checked out by the resort’s doctor. She kept thinking about the surfer and said out loud “I hope I don’t run into him again.” There was no one around to hear her lie.
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