Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

Prologue

Barry first detected trouble a couple months earlier -- a slow growing, cool distance emanating from Paula, his wife of twelve years. But it was nothing sudden; more like some sort of condensation forming on the surface of their marriage. He asked her what was wrong, many times, in many ways. The answer was always the same. "Nothing. Work, stress..." If he pressed, she'd get short, then clam up. "It's nothing. Really. Nothing," was all she'd say.

At first Barry went out of his way to respect her need for alone time, but as weeks passed he began to worry. She was shutting him out more and more.

In three weeks' time they had a vacation planned. Their annual two weeks in Hawaii had been booked for months now. "What you need is a break," Barry postulated -- stating what he knew was a crass oversimplification. "You'll really appreciate our two weeks of R 'n R in Maui."

However, he was blindsided by Paula's response. "I'm not going with you," she announced matter-of-factly.

"Wha-a-at?" he sputtered, almost laughing -- unbelieving. But he knew it wasn't a joke. "But we've already paid for the flight -- the condo. We can't cancel now."

"You go. I need time to think."

"About what?"

"Me, my life, what I want." Barry's mouth moved in confounded response, but no sound came out. "You go by yourself. I need to be alone."

"By myself? But..., but..."

"Call it a trial separation." Paula went on, casually, flat, emotionless, while Barry felt his life crumbling. "I need time away. From you." And that was it. No more words -- no further discussion. She refused to engage, or even respond.

They shared the same bed in the weeks before Barry's mandated 'vacation', but there was no physical contact. Their routine goodnight kisses, which had already been dissipated to just pecks on the cheek, extinguished altogether. Soon Paula barely acknowledged Barry, leaving him puzzled and distressed. Still, there seemed nothing he could do. He helplessly lived out the last days at what had been his home until it was almost a relief to board the plane to Hawaii -- even alone.

-----------------

Which was why, just over a week into his so-called vacation, he found himself meandering back to the condo, Kamaole Shores, by himself. Coming along a trail from K2 beach, he spied a discarded or lost purse under a bush. His curiosity piqued, he swatted his way under the prickles to retrieve it. The bag hadn't, apparently, been there long. A quick check showed that it still contained all the essentials: driver's license, money, cards, lipstick, and a passport. Lost not stolen. Luckily for Kara Thomas, it also contained her Maui address -- Kihei Kamaole -- the complex right next door to where Barry was staying.

Feeling generally rudderless, the found purse gave him at least a momentary direction; so, Barry wandered across to the next complex and eventually found his way to C-509 to deliver the errant handbag. As he got to the door he thought he could hear someone inside panicking. "Where is it? I've looked everywhere!" Another voice mumbled something in reply, then, "Last I remember..."

Barry rapped hard on the door -- "To save whomever for any more grief," he thought, as he heard the approaching footsteps.

A forty-something man flung open the door, and after the briefest visual appraisal, burst out laughing. "We were just talking about you!" he said, like Barry was an old friend. He laughed some more, then turned, calling into the suite, in a somewhat sing-song voice, "Someone to see you, dear!"

Kara Louise Thomas was cute -- a trim, athletic-looking woman, probably in her early forties. Dressed in shorts and a tank -- a sport-bra underneath -- she looked, Barry thought, rather deliciously attractive -- "Scrumptious, in a word!" and he couldn't help but smile.

"Omigod!" she squealed, as she approached the door, eyeing her handbag.

"Kara?" Barry assumed, handing her the purse. "I'm Barry."

"Omigod! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she chanted, then looking him in the eye, she calmed down for a moment and introduced herself. "Yes, I'm Kara. You won't believe how glad I am to meet you!"

"I checked for ID." Barry gestured at the purse, "and everything seems to be there."

Riffling through the contents, Kara continued to vent her relief vociferously. "Omigod! It's got my passport and everything! I thought I was done for!" She was just about jumping for joy, as she danced about like a kid. "How can I ever thank you?" Suddenly she began pulling cash from her wallet. "Here," proffering a wad of bills, "Take it. You deserve a reward!"

Barry felt sorry for her once again. Overcome with relief, she was almost hyperventilating -- on the verge of hysteria. But he steadfastly refused the offered cash reward. "Nothing," he reiterated. "Really! I'm sure anyone would have done the same."

At this point, the husband, who had backed out of the fray for a bit, stepped forward again and silently handed Barry an ice-cold beer. Introducing himself as Mark, he beckoned Barry. "Come in. Take a load off."

Still vibrating in an almost manic frenzy, Kara looked up from the purse, tried to take a calming breath -- with limited success -- and asked hopefully, "Could we send you and your wife -- or partner -- whatever -- out for an expensive dinner -- Gannon's? 5 Palms, perhaps?"

Barry shrugged, embarrassed, and speaking softly to Mark -- looking for some sort of male commiseration -- said, "Nah. I'm here alone." Adding, with a shake of his head, "Trial separation." Turning back toward Kara he added, "Thanks anyway."

Not to be deterred, Kara fussed and fumed insistently, "There's got to be something I can do to repay you!"

"No need," Barry insisted, equally.

That's when Mark, staring intently at his wife, with a devilish smirk, said, to everyones astonishment, "How about one of your world-class blow-jobs?"

The room went dead quiet.

Shocked, Kara at first dismissed the idea out of hand. "Don't be disgusting!"

"I'm serious!" Mark protested. "Hey, the guy hasn't had sex for a while -- Am I right?"

Barry's embarrassment flushed onto his cheeks. "Hey, that's not..." But Mark was on a roll. It seemed the more he thought about it the better an idea it became. Barry couldn't understand the thinking. He couldn't see ever trying to talk his wife into sex with someone else.

"But," he suddenly thought, considering his current situation, "maybe she didn't need to be talked into it. Maybe she'd already gone ahead and done it."

Giving his head a shake, Barry returned his attention to the performance unfolding before him.

Mark was trying to persuade his wife. He incessantly, insistently coaxed and cajoled. "It'll be fun! A chance to try something new -- someone new."

"See how someone besides me responds.

"You can pretend you're making love to me."

"Making love is generally more than just a blow-job," Kara muttered.

"That's okay," her husband went on, ignoring her comment. "Let yourself go. Be vocal -- like you can!

"I can be listening in the next room, if you want." He looked toward Barry for a moment, raising a questioning eyebrow, before turning his onslaught back on his wife. "Be loud! Be active! Be wild!"" He kept at her -- badgering her relentlessly.

Barry watched the exchange, like a sporting event, sipping his beer, amused and bewildered at hubby's unrelenting persistence. He wondered about motive. What possessed a man to try so hard to get his wife to cheat on him. Then almost as though he were reading Barry's mind, Mark pointed out, "It's not cheating if I'm in on it." And, as Barry pondered that, this strange fellow, Mark, continued unremittingly to try to talk his wife into giving Barry, more or less a complete stranger, a blow-job.

The barrage seemed to continue for ages. On and on, till it was almost getting boring. "Cut to the chase!" Barry wanted to scream. But he didn't. He just waited and watched and listened, until, finally, Kara broke from her husband's eyes, and turned to look at Barry. She paused for a long moment, then, giving him a totally undecipherable look, shrugged. Somehow Barry understood -- acquiescence. Mark beamed his acknowledgement of her unspoken surrender, and quickly turned his golden, persuasiveness on Barry.

"So whadya say, Bud?" Mark was grinning so wide he almost split his face. "Hard to turn down an offer like that, eh?"

Barry protested, "No, I really couldn't. It wouldn't be right."

"Why not? She's pretty, and sexy, isn't she?"

Then, surprisingly, Kara chimed in, "C'mon, it'd be my pleasure." It seems, having resigned herself to it, she was now eager to get the ball rolling. "Really, Barry, you know you want to." With sudden confidence, she threw Barry a million-watt smile. "Not going to disappoint me, are you?" she said, giving a coy little waggle of her head.

"Are you sure? Absolutely sure?" he questioned. She nodded eagerly, her husband, in the background, was nodding as well. "O-o-okay," Barry acceded, his mind still spinning. "If that's really what you want."

"You're in for a treat," hubby said, "My wife, she's a real firecracker!" Kara straightened her shoulders proudly, thrusting out her chest, a hint of high-beam showing through her bra and top. She seemed happy with the compliments, maybe happy to be pleasing her husband. Mark, on the other hand, seemed to Barry far too gleeful, under the circumstances.

He advised, sotto voce, with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Don't, whatever you do, neglect her nipples -- get on them with your fingers and lips -- soon as you can." Barry felt a vague unease, as he sensed an ulterior motive. He suspected -- indeed, was convinced -- that Mark had a hidden agenda, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Mark offered more conspiratorial advice. "Get a couple of fingers on her clit early on and you'll be good to go for the whole afternoon."

But, as Kara took his arm to guide him towards the bedroom, his unfounded disquiet evaporated.

"Have fun kids," Mark called out, as they entered bedroom, once again a little tentatively. Kara's confidence had apparently faded a bit, and the two of them watched each other somewhat warily.

"Guess we'd better undress," she whispered, her smile almost blinding him. Both Kara and Barry began to disrobe, slowly, self-consciously -- and unintentionally with an off-the-charts sensuousness. At the first garment to be shed, they forgot all about Mark, the circumstances, the rest of the world. Their mutual wariness softened, until, as their respective nakedness was gradually revealed, they eyed one another appreciatively.

Barry's senses began to tingle in anticipation. He could tell that something special was about to take place -- beginning as a hungry, carnal pas de deux. Kara opened with a slow, graceful approach, taking him gently by the elbow and guiding him to the edge of the bed. She sat next to him, running her fingers over his body for a bit before walking her digits across his breast. With one hand she twiddled one of his nipples, while dropping her other hand into his lap, where she began to stroke his growing member. Leaning down, Kara took his near side nipple in her mouth, as she played her fingers over his far side. Barry's arousal ignited instantaneously. He let her play for a minute.

But then he pulled her up. "No need to rush this," he thought. "Might as well prolong it a little bit -- might be my last for a while." So he pulled her upright next to himself, bowed his head slightly, and began tonguing her nipples, alternating side to side, while dropping his hand to stroke her pussy -- twiddling her clit. Barry was amazed at the suddenness of the onset of Kara's orgasm. He felt like he'd only just begun when she abruptly went stiff. Her breath caught in her throat, as she went momentarily rigid -- completely rigid -- pulling his head tight against her breast! Rigid and motionless -- silent -- for just an instant before relaxing into an uncontrollably trembling mass.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, getting louder and louder, until, "Yes! Yes! Yesssss!" Her cries peaked, then abruptly stopped. Still holding Barry firmly to her chest, her gradual descent was accompanied by a soft mewling. A warm quiet flowed between them as Kara recovered her composure.

When she'd got her breath back she dropped between his legs and set to at one of her allegedly "world-class blow-jobs." Mark was right in that; she really knew how to give great head.

She played him like a cello; brought him to the edge then held him there until it was almost too much, then backed off a bit, repeating this a few times -- crescendo after crescendo -- driving him wild, until, finally, she took him to the precipice, held him there for a moment, before pulling him over -- firmly -- with authority.

As clichéd as it seemed, he felt the skyrockets flashing up and down his spine, exploding behind his eyes, as he pumped volley after volley of cum into Kara's magic mouth. And she swallowed -- she swallowed and swallowed, taking it all but the tiniest drop that spilled from her lips and ran down her chin. The strength of the climax left Barry feeling like jelly -- his chest heaving, his gut quivering. His erection was still twitching -- bucking and jerking -- as Kara released it, licking her lips as she let him go for the moment.

Barry gently pulled her up the bed and rolled her onto her back. Without a word, he swung a knee over her head and shuffled himself into soixante-neuf -- 69 -- before diving head-first into the vee of her thighs. Pressing his lips against her warm, moist pussy, luxuriating in the slick texture and sweet aroma, he paused for a heartbeat before taking up an active tongue-lashing. Meanwhile, Kara slurped him in and started to suck lazily on his root, at least lazily to start with.

Barry stroked her furrow and flicked her clit, savouring her nectar, and sucking on her nether lips, all the while trying to control the convulsive thrusts of his hips against her face. He could feel the increasing tension building within her as she lay beneath him; her body beginning to vibrate as he drew another orgasm inexorably to its apex. Kara suddenly flailed and flopped about, like a rag-doll in the jaws of a playful dog. Only Barry's rampant erection, pinning her to the bed, and his wrestling grip on buttocks -- face engulfed in her bush -- kept her from flying off the bed. And there was no let-up. Her climax seemed to go on and on, her voice a muffled wail around his cock, until she began to cough and gag on the rigid woodie that was pushing deep into her throat.

Barry slowly came to the realization that he was, albeit unintentionally, brutalizing his partner -- pounding away, as he was, in her mouth, against her lips. So, clenching his knees and holding tight to her hips, he rolled on the bed, slipping under her and pulling her onto him while maintaining their sixty-nine connection. With her on top, she was more in control of her felatio, bobbing determinedly and powerfully, up and down on his tool. Indeed, she was more in control of his cunnilingus, too, dipping and grinding against his lips and tongue. And it was obviously the right move, as, only a short time later they both closed in on orgasms -- simultaneously. Gasping and panting and writhing together, they both fought to keep their lingual connections, while puffing and mewling their respective releases.

As they recovered Kara continued working Barry's cock with her talented mouth. He was amazed that after two intense orgasms, while maybe a little wobbly, Mr. Happy was still standing tall. Twice in one day was rare for him; twice in one session -- looking at a possible third was unheard of.

Kara displayed quite a voracious appetite for sex. After, amazingly, getting him stiff yet again, she muttered, "What the hell! World-class blow-job or not, I want to feel this baby in me!" and she shuffled down his body, spinning herself into cowgirl position, before lining herself up and dropping her pussy authoritatively onto his cock, engulfing it entirely.

As he reached up to palm her breasts, Barry wondered why he had never done it in this position before. It was novel -- but great!

Meanwhile, Kara began a slow, deliberate pace -- going for distance not speed. She rode him in an easy, steady canter, her hands resting lightly on his chest, fingers cupping his nipples, her head thrown back as she basked in the flow of sensation. It was a long, satisfying love-making. Having cum three times already, she seemed to be just riding the waves -- enjoying the echoes rippling along after her climaxes -- coasting on a plateau of arousal.

Eventually, though they fucked, for the most part, a slow cowgirl, at the very end, Kara's canter accelerated to a full gallop, her bottom pounding the saddle. Taking Barry's 'horn' in increasingly long, powerful strokes, she suddenly went rigid, plunging deeply and firmly onto his prong. In a frenzied rush she threw her head back and howled, as yet another orgasm -- her fourth, by Barry's count -- overtook her; her cry -- an eerie, evocative wail that must have been easily heard, not just outside the room but outside the unit as well, crescendoed then gently trailed off, as her head fell forward, and she rested a bit, arms propped against his chest.

Then, still rocking, she became deliberate, again, in her deep plunges and slow, rising withdrawals, repeating with a gradual but building intensity, until, at last, Barry couldn't take it any longer. Bolts of lightning arced along his spine, exploding in a sensuous thunder behind his eyes. He couldn't believe that he'd achieved another climax -- a record-breaking third orgasm. It seemed to him to take a very long time to float back to earth.

Unnoticed by the lovers, however, during all this, Mark, the hubby -- the effective procurer -- had silently reappeared. Initially standing just outside the doorway, he had witnessed the transition from sixty-nine to cowgirl, and had noiselessly applauded their shared orgasms, surreptitiously taking phone pictures and video clips of the action.

Quietly, gradually he had crept around the door, then, with a sudden eruption, Mark started yelling, "You cheating bitch!"

Startled and bewildered, Kara and Barry both stuttered and gasped, trying ineffectively to disentangle. With shock and confusion reigning supreme, they stared at Mark, unbelieving. Grabbing a sheet in pointless modesty, her eyes like saucers, Kara stammered, "But you..."

"What the fuck?" Barry muttered, but he had just detected an accidental hint of a smile at the corners of Mark's mouth, as Mark raged on about trust and betrayal -- in a voice loud enough to be heard beyond their unit. Then Barry twigged. For some reason he didn't understand, he knew without a doubt, that they had just been set up. "You bastard," Barry hissed, his eyes boring into Mark's vaguely smug visage. Kara, stunned -- almost insensate -- fumbled about, trying, with limited success, to dress. "You set us -- her -- up. Didn't you? You prick!" Barry was panting, trying to control his breathing as surprise morphed into anger. "Why? Why?"

Dropping his voice so his wife wouldn't hear, in her continued fretting about, Mark gave Barry a devious grin. "Success," he stated, matter-of-factly, "is really just effectively seizing opportunity. Wouldn't you agree?" He nodded at Barry, but didn't wait for an answer. "As far as set-ups go, this was genius -- a true masterpiece." He smiled, almost sympathetically, acknowledging Barry's 'why' with only a slight nod, before turning back to Kara and resuming his rant. "How could you...?" "...throw it all away!" He went on and on. Barry was sickened by the bald insincerity of it. Still, it puzzled and angered him. He wouldn't find out the motivation -- pre-nup conditions regarding Kara's substantial trust fund -- until much, much later.