Fishing Competition

Marcy was quietly furious and doing her best not to show it. Somehow, she just felt it wrong to tell her husband that he was being a complete asshole on the first day of the honeymoon. When they'd pulled into the camp they'd booked into for a week she'd just known there was going to be a problem as soon as she saw that sign advertising the fishing contest. She'd hoped that Brian would defer entering the contest for at least one day but no, fishing he was going.

To be fair, he had suggested she come along on the boat. Sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake while her husband drank beer and drowned worms was not how she wanted to spend the day. She'd pass on the fishing and spend the day exploring the camp.

"Don't fret over it, Marcy," Brian told her. "I'll be home nice and early and we can go to bed early. You'll find the second night goes a lot better than the first."

It would have to, thought Marcy. It couldn't be much more of a debacle. He'd been too eager, too careless, and too fast. She'd barely got past the pain and he'd been finishing. If he didn't show some proper care and consideration the next time she'd slap him silly.

Marcy spent the day familiarising herself with the camp. She also kept an eye out on the various boats that came and went, waiting for Brian to return. It was late afternoon when he finally returned. She could see from the way that he bounded out of the boat that he'd had a good day. He was smiling and seemed very confident. She headed towards the judges table where the catches were being checked and weighed.

Brian had been lucky. Not in the number or size of the fish that he caught but with one particular fish. He'd caught a tagged trout, worth prize money of one thousand dollars to the lucky fisherman.

Brian's good luck was her bad luck, Marcy decided. With a win like that he had to celebrate with a few drinks, now didn't he? He knew she'd understand. Why didn't she stay in the cabin and make herself look beautiful for him and he'd be along real soon.

"Don't you worry, little lady," said one of the men who'd been fishing with him. "We'll look after him."

Marcy slowly shook her head and walked back to their cabin, silently stewing as she went. Only here one day and he'd already picked up a couple of mates to drink with. Perhaps she'd be lucky and they'd chase him home after a couple.

Eating dinner by herself Marcy knew she hadn't been lucky. She sighed and turned on the television. Damn it, she'd even worn sexy, easy to remove, clothes. He was supposed to have a couple of drinks and then come in roaring like a lion, ready to do his husbandly duty. As it was he'd probably come in like a sheep, looking nervously around for a wolf.

Eventually there was a rap on the door and it opened. Brian was helped in by his two fishing buddies. To her annoyance his two pals seemed to be quite sober while Brian was totally sloshed. She was surprised that he was still conscious and walking.

The men banged the door closed, steered Brian over to an armchair and helped him sit, which he managed to do, sitting up with a smug smile on his face.

"I'm Dean," said the man who had promised to look after him. "This's Cary. As you can see, one husband safely delivered, as promised. We stayed sober just so we could be sure of getting him home for you."

"Ah, thank you," said Marcy, trying to be gracious, but feeling she'd feel a lot more grateful if they'd delivered him home sober.

"You're welcome," said Cary, smiling at her. "Course, I don't know if he'll be much use to you tonight."

Marcy tried to kill him with a look and felt irritated when he was unscathed. Dean promptly took his turn to further annoy her.

"Yeah, it's a pity," he said. "Look at you, all ready and waiting, and he's too sloshed to unwrap his gift."

"Thank you and good night, gentlemen," said Marcy coldly, indicating the door.

The men ignored her.

"You know, Dean, Brian baby is still awake, even if he is partly paralytic. Why don't we show him what he's missing?"

"You know, Cary, your ideas are normally range from dumb to stupid and that is one of the dumbest and stupidest ones yet."

The shock at what Cary's suggestion had implied was alleviated by Dean's comment, only to return when Dean added a rider.

"Let's do it."

Before Darcy could react Cary had taken hold of her top and lifted it up, pulling it right up and off. She'd been dressed for Brian and bed and hadn't worried about a bra. Why should she wear one? Brian was just going to take it off. As it was, Darcy found herself standing topless before two strangers. Knowing someone's name didn't make them any less a stranger.

Darcy gasped and hastily tried to cover her breasts. She was stopped in this endeavour by Dean and Cary catching her arms and holding them.

"Geez, Brian, does your wife have lovely boobs or does she? You're a lucky man."

Darcy glared at Brian, willing him to get up and thump the two jerks holding her. Instead all he did was tilt his head to one side and smile. Jesus Christ, just how far under was he?

Ignoring the language that Darcy was using and also ignoring her trying to pull her arms free both men reached out and cupped a breast and rubbing a nipple. Her nipples promptly responded.

"Nice responsive boobs," murmured Cary.

"OK, Cary, I think that's enough of our playing with the lovely lady's breasts," said Dean, relinquishing his grip on her arm.

As Cary did the same Darcy promptly covered her breasts with her arms, tossing glares at the two men. She just as promptly found that instead of covering her breasts she should have been grabbing hold of her tights. Dean and Cary didn't make that mistake, taking her tights and lowering them swiftly, managing to take her panties with them. It dawned on Darcy that wearing clothes that would be easy for your husband to remove meant wearing clothes that other men would also find easy to remove.

"Well, will you just look at that body? Ah, Brian, you're not answering. Had a bit much, have we? Tell you what. Seeing you look like you'll be unable to help your wife out tonight why don't Dean and I do it for you?"

Darcy froze for a moment, horrified, and then started to struggle. Not that it availed her much, she found. Either of the two men were strong enough to handle her. Together, she didn't stand a chance.

Dean and Cary each held one arm while their spare hands made free of her body. She swore at them impartially, both getting an equal share of her fury. What incensed her even more was the fact that they were laughing at her.

Slowly it registered with Darcy that while the two men were stroking her rather intimately they weren't doing anything to force her to the floor, nor were they trying to drag her to the couch or into the bedroom. They were just feeling her up, having fun at her expense, enjoying her helpless fury. She forced herself to calm down.

"OK," she said, taking a deep breath. "You've had your little game. Now how about letting me go and getting the hell out of here?"

"She has a point," Cary said. "Time for you to get your greasy paws off of her, Dean."

Dean gave a casual laugh and lifted his hands in the air, moving back a little, much to Darcy's relief. All she needed to do was be firm and everything would be fine. Embarrassing, but fine.

Her relief was short lived, fleeing when she felt a sharp rap behind her knees. It didn't hurt but it did cause her to stagger slightly, finding herself falling, Cary's hand on her arm helpfully letting her maintain her balance as she went down onto her knees. Unfortunately his hand then moved around onto her back, pushing her forward so she ended up on all fours.

The hand on her back held her in position while another hand was now paying serious attention to her mound, rubbing it firmly. A loud protest was ignored, and then the situation deteriorated.

Darcy could feel her lips being moved apart and then something was pressing against her. Her outrage reached new heights as she realised that Cary was starting to push his cock into her. She gave a shocked gasp as he surged forward, slipping in with no problems to her vast annoyance, apparently finding her aroused and wet. Not that she has wanted to be. It was their blasted fault with all that touching.

Darcy protested and Cary pushed in. Darcy swore at him and Cary pushed in deeper. Darcy threatened and Cary laughed, his hands coming around to close over her breasts, squeezing them as he pulled her towards him, thrusting in the rest of the way as he did so.

"YOU TAKE THAT OUT," Darcy yelled, projecting all her authority into her voice.

It turned out that she had no authority. Cary started rocking and Darcy's awareness of his cock increased a hundredfold. She was amazed at the things that it was doing to her. Brian certainly hadn't felt like this the previous night. Her whole body seemed to be aware of Cary and what he was doing. To her horror she found that she was actually moving in time to Cary's thrusting, pushing back against him to let it go deep.

Darcy's one consolation was that at least it would be over fast, a consolation that started to fade as Cary kept going. Darcy was lost and she knew it. Her body was reacting to the heat being raised within her by Cary, her whole body warming up, carrying the strangest sensations through her. She was whimpering softly, not knowing how to handle these feelings.

She found herself getting a lot noisier as Cary kept on going. She could feel something building inside her, her nerves screaming at her, letting her know that something drastic was about to happen. When her climax hit her she screamed, taken completely by surprise, shuddering at the waves of pleasure rolling through her.

She slumped forward onto the carpet, not knowing what to do. She felt Cary withdrawing but it was a matter of supreme indifference to her. She was just trying to decide how she felt.

She felt herself being rolled onto her back. Dean was kneeling next to her, looking mightily amused. Her eyes flicked across to where Brian sat, finding that the drink had really caught up with him. He was dead to the world, totally unaware of what she had gone through.

She went to stand up but found Dean's hand on her breasts, holding her down. She was feeling too lethargic to yell at him so she just glared.

"Don't be in such a hurry," Dean said softly. "The best is yet to come."

She felt his foot hooking around her ankle, drawing her legs apart. She glanced down to see what he was doing and found her eyes stopping short of where she'd intended to look. Dean's trousers were off and he had an erection. She assumed that thing was an erection. It looked huge. Her mouth fell open with shock.

"Yeah, it takes some people that way," said a smiling Dean, already moving to kneel between her thighs. "Just watch. You'll be surprised at how easily you can take it."

"Take that? Are you mad?" Sentiments felt but not expressed, disbelief robbing her of her voice. He was leaning over her, hovering above her, his erection lightly touching her. Then he was leaning into her and she could see his cock starting to sink into her. It was terrifying to watch.

On the other hand, actually feeling it filling her wasn't too bad. Her flesh was already sensitised thanks to Cary's gentle administrations and her body wasn't objecting to what was happening. Her mind was, but her body was proving surprisingly receptive.

Darcy continued to watch as Dean's cock continued to sink into her. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, just leaning into her, the pressure of his body just slowly forcing his cock along her passage, stretching her and extending her. She could feel him, deep inside her, filling her up and then coming in even deeper. She was quietly surprised when his groin rubbed against her, showing that she'd accepted him. She hadn't thought she would.

He only paused long enough to get his hands on her breasts and then he started his dance. He pulled back and then he was in again, moving firmly this time, driving home rather than easing into place. His hands squeezed her breasts at the same time. A few more strokes and she was watching her hips lift, pushing up to meet him, knowing when to push by the way his hands pressed against her breasts.

Once again those strangely sweet sensations started to build. Darcy shivered, knowing now where this was leading. Dean drove in, she pushed to meet him. On and on it went, the pressure inside her steadily building. She reached that point where she'd exploded earlier and anticipated a repeat of it.

It wasn't happening. Dean seemed to hesitate for a couple of moments and she felt that urgency die down. "What?" she wondered. Hesitation over everything resumed. Once again she was building up, ready for her release.

"What are you doing?" she wailed after the third hesitation and die down.

"Just making sure you're properly looked after," Dean assured her. "I mean, you wouldn't want me to go too soon, now would you. Don't worry. I'll know when you're ready."

"I'm ready now," she wanted to say, but couldn't. That would be seen as encouraging him. The whole thing just wasn't fair.

She was moaning softly, moving restlessly, twisting about and wanting, wanting, wanting. She almost wept with relief when Dean settled down to driving home with gay abandon. This time, she knew, he was not going to stop.

She climaxed explosively and noisily, lost to everything but the pleasure of the moment. She lay there afterwards feeling spent and satisfied and confused. What the hell had just happened to her? She heard a door close and sat up. Dean and Cary had gone, leaving her lying naked on the floor.

She slowly stood and looked over at Brian. Her husband and defender. Well, he'd excelled this night, hadn't he? She felt, she felt. . . She shrugged. If she was honest she felt damned fine, all warm and glowing. She certainly hadn't felt like that the previous night.

OK. Things to do. Take a shower. Go to bed. Arrange for Brian to have some fucking lessons. She suspected that he needed them.