Some Like It Rough

Not everyone likes their sex rough, but if you do, there's really no substitute for a wild party.

It's slow season on the island and Nancy is bored, hot, and horny. Her husband is on a sailboat delivery to Florida. Even when he's around, he's hardly the social type. She's heard tantalizing tales about the wild parties at the beach house. When a guy she meets at the marina comes onto her, she lets him take her on the dining table of a catamaran. From there it's a small step to a party at the beach house with his friends, where there aren't many rules, and the sex is unprotected and hard.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Nancy walked slowly down the beach enjoying the way the cool damp sand squished between her toes and the way the early morning light warmed her bare legs. She wasn't in any rush to get anywhere. It was the slow season in the tropics and when she got to the marina, there wasn't any real chance anything was happening. Her husband, Phil, had gone up to Florida to deliver a yacht and left her there. Even the cruise ships had cut back on stopovers at the island. Several of the restaurants had closed down. Lots of the island people headed for Europe or the US.

That meant there was almost nothing to do, and she had the slow-season blues.

When walked reluctantly up from the beach to the marina she saw Bill. He stood with his back to her, staring out to sea. He worked on the boats, like Phil, and he had the sun-darkened skin of someone who spends lots of time outside. He wasn't particularly good looking, not handsome, but he was well built and seeing him bare-chested, wearing nothing but shorts gave her a boost. The sight of him turned her on, making her pussy tingle. She couldn't resist looking at his crotch and speculating on whether he was as well hung as she'd overheard some giggling tourist girls saying.

Her sudden lust for Bill was silly. She didn't even know him well, in fact mostly when she saw him he was talking to tourist girls—hitting them up. Lots of the guys who worked around the marina preferred the tourist girls to locals. That made sense. They tended to have money—this wasn't a cheap backpacker destination, and they'd come to the island to have a good time. Naturally, guys like Bill were happy to oblige and she couldn't blame them. When the vacation was over the girls left with a few tears and farewell promises that never meant anything.

She knew that Bill was part of the Beach House Gang. That was the name locals had given to a group who rented a house on one of the small beaches a short distance away from town. The story was that it was a place, the place, for wild parties. She'd heard that things could get very wild and that sometimes it wound up being rough group sex.

Nancy had often wondered if the stories were true or amped up to impress other people.  She'd never been there—it wasn't exactly the kind of crowd that Phil went for. He wasn't much for parties whether they were wild or tame. He was never rough with her and the longer she was married the more the idea of being in the center of a bunch of hot people, who liked to play hard seemed like a sexual fantasy. With Phil gone, she found herself indulging in fantasies. In one of them, she was invited to a party and grabbed by a couple of eager studs who screwed her in multiple ways.

But that was a fantasy. She expected that the reality would be a letdown. Things like that often were. But part of her wondered what that might be like. She wasn't getting younger, and it seemed unlikely she'd get to know firsthand.