Book II: Amy in Amsterdam

We’d asked our new Brazillian friends Jorge and Anna to tell my wife Amy and me about the elite group of wealthy individuals calling themselves ‘The Players.’

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“The women in the group, who we call ‘The Performers,’ are not looking for something that’s missing in their marriages,” Anna assured us. “All the husbands in the group – ‘The Watchers’ – are successful, wealthy, and good-looking. It’s just that they fantasize about seeing their wives with other men. I can assure you that neither I nor any of the other wives are exploring alternatives due to something lacking at home. It’s all about personal sexual growth combined with a hell of a lot of fun. Just ask Jorge if my sexuality has been unleashed!” she laughed.

We looked towards the compellingly powerful man who had been watching his wife intently as she explained her feelings about being a member of the Players.

He smiled. “I can genuinely say that Anna has become a wild woman in bed. Our marriage is stronger than it has ever been, and we both desire each other more than ever.”

Amy’s alcohol consumption was giving her more confidence by the minute. 

“But Jorge, what do you get out of seeing Anna with other men? Aren’t you jealous?”

“It’s actually quite difficult to put into words how it feels, Amy. This weird combination of pride, jealousy and fear is overridden by an almost ecstatic sexual tension. When I talk with the other Watchers, they describe almost identical feelings colliding inside them.”For the next half hour, Jorge and Anna chatted quite openly about the topic of wife watching and described the tightly protected environment of the Players. They told us more about the Performers, the Watchers, and the Attendants

I’d always been a poor swimmer, and my fear of water affected me profoundly on that trip to Florida, where we were surrounded by a warm blue ocean and enough swimming pools to the square mile to float an armada. Hearing of Jorge’s ownership of a high-end fitness facility with a massive pool, my husband Nick asked him to arrange my first swim lesson with João, their young fellow countryman and Olympic medalist. When Anna mentioned that João was also an ‘Attendant’ responsible for providing the ultimate pleasure to some of the ‘Performers’ in the secret club, I could see Nick’s interest was triggered. When we arrived at the pool, the stunning young Joao was dressed in navy shorts and a white fitted T-shirt that hugged every defined muscle of his broad chest. The handsome young guy put up no pretense of formality and pulled me into a tight hug as he kissed me just below my ear and whispered, “Mmm, Amy, I hope you will enjoy working with me as much as I think I will enjoy working with you.”

We broke apart, and João flung his arm around Nick’s shoulders, and in his tantalizing accent, said, “come with me… I will show you both the amazing pool we have here.”

When the elevator doors opened at the basement level, we were confronted by an enormous space that looked like an ancient Roman bath. The Olympic-size pool was surrounded by columns and stone benches with thick, padded cushions. The whole place screamed opulence.

“We obviously have extensive changing room and shower facilities back over in that corner,” he waved off towards the far wall, “but we can use the private owner’s suite to change and shower off before your lesson.”He led us through a set of double doors that had been designed to blend into the Romanesque wall decoration. We found ourselves in the most luxurious suite I had ever seen. And it was just a changing room! Every inch of wall space was covered in giant, gold-framed mirrors. In the middle of the room were three enormous sofas, and along one wall were walk-in showers that looked as if they could each accommodate a football team. My imagination suddenly went wild, imagining watching through the clear glass walls of the shower as jets of hot steaming water pounding onto João’s hard, muscular body after a medal-winning swim. 

The opposite wall to the showers was an area of curtained cubicles that appeared to be for changing.

“Nick, why don’t you take a seat while Amy and I change,” smiled the supremely confident young man.

Nick seemed quite happy to relax there, as João took my hand and led me over to the curtained area. It turned out that it was divided into four changing cubicles that each measured about six feet square and had a small loveseat. They had not been designed for modesty. While the curtain between the rooms and the main suite hung from floor to ceiling, the drapes that separated each cubicle hung only to a spot about thigh-high from the floor. 

João ushered me into the room at the far end and pulled the curtain that hid me from Nick on his sofa. He then pulled the curtain into the next room sharply aside and, rather than moving down and taking a room a little further away to give me some privacy, he just stayed there. He was only a few feet from me, and I was expected to peel off my clothes and change into my bikini, knowing that he could see everything from my thighs to my feet. It was tinglingly exciting just to know he would see my panties as I stepped out of them. The thought was somehow electrifying. I stood there mentally paralyzed – even as I was contemplating the idea of the handsome young Brazilian being naked beside me, he could be thinking the same about me. 

I was shaken from this reverie when suddenly a white T-shirt dropped to the floor in the room next to me. I was transfixed by a simple article of clothing. I watched João’s muscular legs as he slid down his shorts and kicked them away. Kicked them in my direction! If he reached down to pick them up, he would be looking straight under the curtain and into my room. 

Ha! Two could play that game. I undid my own shorts, shimmied out of them, and kicked them surreptitiously towards the curtain. When I bent down to pick them up, I was stunned. I was staring at the naked, tanned, muscled ass of an Olympic swimmer as he reached over to grab a pair of Speedos off the loveseat. I felt like a voyeur and went almost dizzy as I stood up fast to cover my guilty embarrassment. Underneath my reserved exterior was I really a moral degenerate – willing to secretly admire a naked young man’s ass and imagine it pumping up and down as he drove himself into me? 

I couldn’t handle all these new feelings. I quickly changed into my bikini and pulled back the curtain to step out into the main suite. Nick sat there with an amused, quizzical look on his face and raised his eyebrows at me. I realized that I was beet red with the embarrassment of what I’d just done. I gave him a half-hearted smile and decided to pretend that everything was normal. 

“Looking good, Amy.”“Thanks,” I mumbled.

Just as my blush was wearing off, there was the sound of a curtain being pulled back. I spun around and found myself staring at male perfection. Perfection in a Speedo. And not just any Speedo but the typically skimpy Speedos that all professional swimmers wear that did nothing to hide a very impressive bulge. Even Nick was looking a little stunned. He swims and rows and has a fantastic body, but João was on an entirely different scale. For the first time, the term ‘swimmers build’ made sense.

João gave us one of his beaming smiles and plopped down onto the sofa opposite Nick. 

“Now, Amy, let’s just talk a little bit about your abilities, so I can do a brief needs assessment before we get in the pool for your lesson.” 

My abilities! My needs! Knowing his role as an ‘Attendant’ to some of the world’s most gorgeous married women, I had to wonder if his words were intended as double-entendres. I sat down next to Nick, and for the next few minutes, I explained how I was genuinely scared of being in the water and how that fear had inhibited me from learning to swim.

“Then that should be the first goal today… conquering that fear and helping you to relax into yourself. Also, before we get in the pool, Anna asked me to give you my thoughts on being an Attendant for the Players. She told me you were considering coming to Amsterdam, just to observe, of course, to see us… in action!” He let out a deep laugh at his own inside joke.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Nick seemed eager to hear more. 

“Sure, tell us more about it.”

“Hmmm, so, let me see. It would be easiest if I used an example: So, if you were members of the Players, today’s lesson would likely take a very different turn from what I have currently planned. One thing that might happen is that after the lesson, Amy, I would first ask your permission to help you shower. I would gently wash you all over, under the rain-shower heads, soaping every inch of you to relax your tension using my strong hands, my mouth, and maybe even my tongue. Nick, you would most likely be sitting here comfortably on the sofa and watching us through the clear glass walls of the shower.” 

I sat there enthralled, feeling a powerful heat developing between my legs at the thought of that hunky young guy touching every part of me. But Nick didn’t seem too impressed.

“The Attendants role sounds very passive,” he commented.

“It is exactly as passive or aggressive as the Performer requests. All the Attendants volunteer for the role because they deeply admire slightly older, beautiful women. Young, shallow, superficial women hold no interest for us. We are all committed to serving the needs of the women we appreciate, in whatever way they may request. We will pamper or be dominant, but it is all about the choice being in the hands of the happily married women we serve. If you decide to come to Amsterdam, you will see Performers requesting attention across the entire spectrum from mild to wild.”

João was getting Nick’s attention now, so I sat back and let him get on with it – I had no intention of asking questions myself.

“So, what else could happen at today’s lesson if we were members of the Players?” asked Nick. My darling husband’s clear interest in the hotwife lifestyle was both intriguing and concerning.

“Well, Nick, take a look at your gorgeous wife in that simple, elegant bikini, with its high-cut legs. Maybe, if Amy had been initiated into the Players, during the lesson, I would try to relax her fears by stroking that amazingly soft area where the pubic bone, the abdomen, and the upper thigh all come together in glorious fusion. If you let your imagination run wild, maybe you could picture me slipping my hand into her swimsuit as she floats calmly on her back, overcoming her fear of the water.”

João seemed to have no qualms about talking about me in sexual terms while I was squirming on the sofa and feeling like I was about to melt. I couldn’t look at either of them, but I secretly hoped that nothing would break the spell and stop the flow of João’s spellbinding story. My husband and this near-total stranger were discussing me as if I were some abstract concept. And I loved it – although the conversation was heading in the direction of total embarrassment as I felt a wetness developing in my bikini bottoms. But on he went with his mesmerizing fable.

“Perhaps, if Amy showed her desire for it, I would slip a finger inside her and slowly finger-fuck her to an orgasm right there in the pool.”

Okay. That was too much. I couldn’t sit there and listen to them talking about me in such a filthy way. But why was my pussy literally throbbing at what João was saying? Was he addressing Nick throughout his erotic narrative so as not to scare me?

I looked over at Nick, and I could see that he was enthralled by João’s imaginary parallel universe. He wasn’t even trying to hide the enormous erection that was tenting out his shorts. Seeing that made me wonder how it was affecting João himself. I almost let out an audible gasp as I saw the huge erection that was threatening to escape from his Speedos as he imagined doing all these things to me. Surely, we needed to stop this and get on with the lesson.

“Imagine then that, to build her confidence in the water, I sit on the edge of the pool, and Amy positions herself between my legs, with her feet floating out behind her. Her head is almost in my lap, and she can clearly see the effect that her closeness is having on me. Gaining confidence all the time, Amy might reach up and squeeze my hard cock – only hard because of her – and possibly even pull it out of my Speedos. Maybe she would take it in her mouth – if that was her desire. And any, or all of that, or way more than that, without limits, is what could potentially happen if you were members of the Players. However, for reasons of health and discretion, the members only play among themselves. So now we should get on with the lesson.”

And just like that, he broke the spell. 

Nick and I sat there staring blankly at the poor guy as if he’d just spoken to us in a foreign language. Instead, he’d suggested a swimming lesson which, after all, was why we’d come here.

João turned out to be a brilliant instructor and, by the time the session was over, I felt like a mermaid compared to how I’d felt just an hour before. And it wasn’t only the swimming where I found myself thinking differently. I was always kidded by my wild younger sister for being uptight, sexually repressed Amy, but here I was wishing that João would follow through on that story of washing me all over under the rain shower. 

Even worse than that, I was even contemplating what it would be like if he took me back into the private owner’s suite to change, then bent me over the arm of the sofa and drove his enormous cock into me while my beloved husband watched us.

What kind of wife did that make me? And what would our future hold?

About Author /

Alex Jamieson is a respected and highly rated author of erotic fiction in the hotwife, wife-sharing, wife-watching genres. His acclaimed ‘Hotwife Travel Series’ has been hailed by one Amazon reviewer as “the thinking man’s hotwife erotica.” His career involves a nomadic life, traveling with his wife between California, London, and Singapore, providing the perfect opportunity to indulge in writing in his chosen field while cruising aloft at thirty-five thousand feet. Follow him or find out more at: Alex Jamieson: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

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