Cuckolded - My Wife on the Submarine (15K extract of new book)

Hi

It's time for a brand new Cuckolded story. A huge, 60,000 word epic.

You may know me as Victoria Wessex (Cuckolded - My Wife on the Oil Rig, My Wife at the Renaissance Faire, Cuckolded By My Boss, etc.). I'm still using that name, but I'm keeping it for my romantic work. Victoria Kasari is the name I'm using now for all my cuckold stories.

Jack and his wife Tanya are documentary filmmakers and they're on their biggest job yet. Tanya--blonde, beautiful and originally from an Eastern European nation called Volakia--has managed to get them aboard a Volak submarine, with permission to film the crew.

The captain of the sub decides he's going to take Tanya for himself and begins her gradual seduction--right in front of Jack. Meanwhile, Tanya finds that living in close quarters with scores of muscled men from her homeland--men who haven't had shore leave in months--brings out old desires.

The submarine becomes a pressure cooker...and it's about to explode. When an international incident plunges the US and Volakia into war, Jack suddenly finds himself the sole American on what's now an enemy sub. And Tanya finds that her loyalty to her homeland runs deeper than she knew...

A big chunk is below (it'll be in several posts, with links at the end). The full thing is out today at The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! for $3.99 BUT as usual, as a thank you to Cuckold Place's admins for letting me post here, all of you can get it for 99 cents if you grab it now. I'll hold the special price for all of today (Saturday, September 20th) and likely well into Sunday.

Don't have an ereader? You can buy from The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! and use their free Kindle app on your PC/tablet/phone. Or use their free Cloud reader and read in your web browser without installing anything.

Seen this post late and frustrated that you missed the 99 cent price? The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! at victoriakasari.com and I'll let you know when new releases come out.

And now, on with the story.

Chapter 1

The immigration officer stared at his computer screen. "Jack Mulhullan," he said in his heavy accent. "Tanya Mulhullan." Then he spat something in the local language.

"English, please," said Tanya sweetly. "My husband is American."

The immigration officer reacted as if she'd said I had a contagious disease. He held out his hand for my passport. "Business or pleasure?"

"Business," I said proudly. "We work together."

He looked suspiciously at my dark blue US passport and then Tanya's much more elaborate, Volak one. He stared at her picture for a long time, and I knew why. Passport photos are always unflattering, so it takes a very beautiful woman to have a knockout photo. Tanya was just such a woman. Her Eastern European heritage had given her high cheekbones and full, sensual lips. Her lustrous, honey-blonde hair hung long and straight down her back and her blue eyes shone with enthusiasm and just a hint of wicked promise.

It was that promise—that hint of sex—that had made our business such a big hit. We'd filmed over a hundred short documentaries together, with her as presenter and narrator and me as cameraman and editor. With a good camera rig and a laptop to edit on, we were a two-man production house: filming, editing and uploading, then making money from ads as people watched. I was well aware that it was the glimpse of Tanya in the video's thumbnail that got so many people clicking on them. She always wore something appropriate for the location, be it overalls or a blouse and skirt. But she always seemed to find a way to tweak it to be just a little sexy—a button unfastened here, a zip lowered there. With her full breasts and tight, toned ass, the camera loved her—it was actually hard, sometimes, even as her husband, to resist tilting the camera down to look down her top, or to focus for too long on her ass as I trailed behind her.

Did it bother me that our business swung on Tanya's sex appeal? Not at all. In fact, the idea that somewhere out there, tens of thousands of guys were fantasizing about my wife kind of turned me on. It wasn't as if she ever actually showed anything...and besides, they were only watching. Let them look. It was me she got to go home with. For all her sexiness, my wife was actually sort of shy, when it came to meeting other men face-to-face. Sometimes, I actually wished she'd be a little more flirtatious.

Tanya nervously pushed her hair back behind her ear and gave the guard a worried but beautiful smile, showing perfect white teeth. "Okay?" she asked, eager to be off. She'd kept her Volak accent, even after four years in the US. It actually seemed to add to her appeal amongst our audience. Maybe if our documentaries had appealed to housewives, they would have preferred an all-American girl. But we specialized in military stuff—behind the scenes with the army's new helicopter, that sort of thing. So the viewers were almost all men, and they found her Eastern European accent bewitching. It didn't hurt, either, that we'd found a niche in which all the other presenters were aging men or over-enthusiastic teenagers with no social skills. A helicopter firing missiles? That's cool. But a helicopter firing missiles while a beautiful blonde with a sexy accent explains the new targeting system? That'll get you a million views.

"How long you stay in Volakia?" the guard wanted to know. I wasn't sure if he was being annoyingly thorough because I was American, or because he wanted to keep talking to my wife. Looking around at the rest of the arrivals, I could see why he wanted to make the most of her. There were some depressed-looking business people in suits and that was about it. Our flight had been mostly empty. Nobody flew into Volakia. They all got out as soon as they could afford it, just as Tanya had.

"Just today," Tanya told him with another huge smile. "We're sailing out tonight."

The guard nodded sullenly, glaring at me. "Is not good time to be here, as American," he said.

I shrugged. Sure, there had been some saber-rattling going on between the US and the loose group of Eastern European countries that had banded together for security. But it was all just politics and talk. Still, old habits died hard, out here. It wasn't so long ago that the whole area had been allied against the US, back before capitalism won out. They still thought like communists, over here, and I was still the enemy. I did my best to smile at the guard, in an we're all friends, hands across the water kind of a way. He glowered at me and finally waved us through.

I slipped my arm around Tanya's waist as we moved on through the terminal. She slowed to a stop, turned to face me and, suddenly, we were kissing.

I'm not the biggest guy, but Tanya's still shorter than me unless she's got her very highest heels on—the ones she wears for the shoots. She just felt right in my arms, her soft breasts pressing up against me, her long legs skimming my jeans, nylon stockings whispering. She was in a sensible, mid-length skirt for traveling—like the heels, she kept her more daring stuff for the actual filming. My tongue teased her lips apart and it turned into a deep kiss, tipping her backward slightly on my arm. She sighed softly into my mouth and I felt her smile under my kiss.

Tanya is...sensual. I don't mean that in any kind of slutty way. We've been married for three years and we probably have less sex than most couples, because we both work so hard. What I mean is...she reacts a lot to touch. You know those women who need hours of foreplay to get them going? That's not her. I only need to stroke her breasts, or her thighs, and she really responds—almost helplessly. It's one of the many things I love about her.

When I broke the kiss, I could see a couple of local men sneering at us. I knew exactly what they were thinking, because I'd seen plenty of it when I first came to Volakia, four years before. They were thinking I was some rich American, and I was being conned by a gorgeous local girl, and that she'd let me spirit her off to America and fuck me in return for a green card, then dump me.

They didn't know a damn thing. I mean, sure, those women existed. When I'd come out here, four years ago, working for a TV production company, I'd had plenty of them come onto me. Tanya was different. She had a degree in engineering—another reason she was such a good presenter in our documentaries—and when I met her, she was swiftly working her way up the ladder in the corporate video company she worked for. We'd met by chance at one of those "East meets West" media conventions, and within one evening we went from conference room to hotel bar to elevator to Tanya naked on my hotel bed, heels kicking in the air, as we fucked like I'd never fucked before. Six months, and I had her back in the US. Seven, and I'd quit my day job to shoot our videos full time.

I was the luckiest guy in the world. I had a gorgeous, sexy Eastern European wife who was completely faithful to me, and a job I loved. Any week now, Tanya's green card would come through and she'd finally be able to switch her Volak citizenship for US citizenship. I already thought of her as American. She had very little contact with her homeland—in fact, I was always surprised that she never seemed to want to email her old friends, or invite them to stay. She'd become the model American wife—even her accent had faded considerably. But right now, her heritage was a bonus. It was how we'd got this opportunity—a job that was going to make us a small fortune.

Tanya grabbed her suitcase—a small mountain of clothes, make-up and, of course, lots of pairs of heels to give her that delectable ass wiggle in front of the camera. I grabbed my flight case, checking that all the locks were still sealed. My camera rig is my baby. Ultra-portable but capable of shooting in Super-HD with high-quality sound, it's what sets us apart from the amateurs. In contrast to Tanya, I had a couple of changes of clothes and that was it. She's the one who needs to look good; I was in my usual hooded top and jeans.

Outside, a fancy black SUV with military plates was waiting for us. It stuck out, next to all the aging Mercedes spitting smoke and the even older locally-made cars. The whole of Volakia was still crawling out of the Cold War era, its economy in tatters. Back in the old days, its position close to the West had meant that it had been an important military port, and that's where most of the money and jobs had come from. Now that we were all friends, the country had found itself with a massive military fleet to maintain and no money coming in. Bad luck for them. Good luck for us—it was what had led to our trip.

As soon as he saw us, an eager young military driver jumped out of the SUV and opened the rear door. Just as we approached, a man stepped out.

And my wife and I both stumbled to a stop.

He was big. He must have been six-three, and he was wide as well as tall, the sort of guy who you keep thinking is going to bump his shoulders on door frames. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on him—he was all solid, hard muscle. And as my eyes tracked up to his face, I saw that he was good looking, too. Tanya had once said that Volak men fell into two categories—dumpy and surly looking, or chiseled and really good looking. I hated to admit it, but I suddenly saw what she meant. The immigration guard had been the first kind—the guy had basically had no neck—but this guy was most definitely the second. He had sculpted cheekbones, a strong jaw and a dusting of dark stubble around his jaw. His eyes were as coldly blue as Tanya's are calmingly green, and his dark brows and lashes gave him a look that women would call brooding.

He was in full captain's dress uniform—and Volakia really goes to town when it comes to their military. His uniform was all rich, dark blue fabric and perfectly-polished brass buttons, and there were a good few medals across his chest. He took off his hat when he saw Tanya and held it neatly under one arm.

"Miss Marakostovich," he said formally in heavily-accented English. "I am Captain Abram Brakov." And he reached for her hand.

I blinked, because he'd said Miss and used her maiden name. Tanya had said something, when she'd organized the trip about using her maiden name to reinforce the fact she was Volak, but I hadn't realized she'd neglected to tell the military she was married.

When I turned to look at her, she looked...transfixed. She was much smaller than the captain, so she had to crane up to look into his eyes. She didn't resist as he gently took her hand, lifted it up to his mouth...and kissed it. And then he looked up from her hand, straight into her eyes, as he held it there for a second.

Tanya didn't speak. She took a breath and then another and I heard a little shudder in her breathing, as if she'd just stepped off the treadmill at the gym.

There was something about him that's difficult for me to explain. He was...foreign, but I don't mean anything to do with his looks or his voice. He just felt very unfamiliar. The best way I can describe it is: we'd travelled around both America and Western Europe a lot, during our years filming. All over Germany and France and Italy, I couldn't read the road signs, but I could at least recognize the letters. But when we came far enough east, to places like Volakia, the entire alphabet was different. You couldn't even take a stab at pronouncing the words, because it was just totally alien and strange. That's how meeting Captain Brakov felt. Like I'd just come up against something I'd never experienced before.

The captain smiled and finally dropped Tanya's hand and the spell that had been holding both of us was broken. I stepped forward and offered my hand. "Jack Mulhullan," I said firmly.

The captain turned to me and smiled politely but a little disinterestedly. "Miss Marakostovich's cameraman?" he asked.

"And also her husband," I told him. I'd been planning it in my head, and in my head it sounded confident and grand—putting him in his place a little. But when it came out of my mouth, it didn't sound confident or grand at all. It sounded nervous and petulant.

It made him take notice of me, though. Just not in the way I'd been hoping.

"Her husband?" said the captain. He turned to Tanya. "But you are unmarried."

My wife did something I'd never seen her do before: she dropped her eyes to the ground, just for an instant, as if shamed. She's never done that with me. She's a very proud woman, always holding her ground in an argument. Then she looked back up into those cold blue eyes. "There must have been a mistake," she said quietly.

The captain pulled a piece of neatly-folded paper from his pocket and made a big show of unfolding it and reading it. "Miss Tanya Marakostovich," he read in his deep, accented voice, "requests to accompany the Drakon on its final voyage, together with her cameraman."

There was absolute silence for a second. I should have been leaping to my wife's rescue, but I felt almost ill. It was like being a couple of high school kids, caught by the principal.

"I made a mistake," said Tanya in a voice that was almost a whisper. "Orepy." Sorry.

I blinked. I'd barely heard her speak Volak in years. And she was gazing up into his eyes in a way I'd never seen before. On camera, she could be flirty and vivacious, but when she met men in person she was shy and almost awkward—people often couldn't believe it was the same woman from the videos. But she didn't look shy or awkward now. She looked more...dumbstruck. Awed, almost.

Suddenly, the captain smiled. "Well," he said, slipping the paper back into his pocket. "I'm sure we can make it work." And he waved at the military driver to get Tanya's case. The man reacted as if he'd been whipped, darting to the kerbside and grabbing the case, then carrying it as if it was a Faberge egg. Clearly, the captain was a man you didn't upset.

I noticed that no one moved to help me with my much heavier flight case. Well, fine. Volakia was Volakia, and it's always been a pretty old-fashioned, macho place. So I heaved my own case up into the trunk and went to climb into the rear seat with Tanya.

Only to find that the captain had already climbed in beside her. He indicated that I should ride shotgun up front. He didn't bother to actually speak to me or even look at me, just pointed.

I slumped into the passenger seat, sulking a little. As we pulled away, he started to chat away to my wife, asking her about what the video would be like, how she got started in the business and a thousand other things...all questions that we should have been answering together, as a team. But he was treating us as if she was the boss and I was just her hired lackey. After a while, they switched to Volak, speaking in rapid fire phrases that I couldn't catch. I'd tried a few times to learn to speak Volak, but it was a tough language for an outsider to pick up, full of rolling "Rs" and harsh "Ks" and "Qs." I knew a few words, but that was about it.

The military driver kept his eyes on the road, as silent and serious as a statue. So eventually, I glanced back at Tanya and the captain.

His hand was on her knee.

That's the very first thing I noticed, before I saw how he leaned in to her when he spoke, or how his eyes were locked on hers. His hand was on her knee. I was so shocked I didn't even get angry at first. It was just so completely inappropriate, so far outside acceptable behavior in America, that it refused to compute.

And it wasn't as if it was just an accidental touch, or a good-humored slap on the thigh. No, he had his palm—and it was a big palm, much bigger than mine—flat on her stockinged thigh, between her knee and the hem of her skirt. His fingers were wrapping around the curve of her leg. Tanya has beautiful, shapely legs—it's why our viewers enjoy it so much when she wears skirts—and I could imagine how smooth and warm it must feel. My wife. My wife! The anger boiled up inside me.

I didn't know what to do. Say something? Yell? The Volakian Navy had granted our request, but the captain still had the right to refuse us access. We'd fly home thousands of dollars out of pocket, not to mention the weeks we'd spent planning and prepping.

I tried to catch Tanya's eye, to indicate that she should stop him. But she didn't seem to even be aware I was there. She was gazing into the captain's eyes with an expression on her face I'd never seen before—something between shock and awe.

As I watched, he gave my wife's thigh a tiny squeeze. Barely enough to be noticeable, if I hadn't been staring so intently. But I saw my wife react. Her lips widened a little, her breathing sped up. So she was aware he was doing it—she hadn't just not noticed. Why didn't she tell him to move it?

And then suddenly, the captain glanced at me. He didn't move his head, just looked at me from under those heavy brows for an instant, without a trace of shame, and—

I flushed. I actually felt my cheeks go red, and that's not something I could ever remember doing. It felt as if I'd been caught doing something wrong, as if I was the guilty one. I turned back in my seat to face the windshield and a tiny part of me actually wanted to say sorry. What the hell?!

"We're here," said the driver.

And we got our first look at the Drakon.

***

The submarine was much, much bigger than I'd expected. Over four hundred feet long, I'd heard—but hearing it wasn't the same as seeing it. The idea that something so big could move, let alone submerge, was difficult to accept. The conning tower rose above me like a small building. All I could do was sit there and gape through the windshield.

Tanya, meanwhile, had already jumped out and was deep in conversation with the captain, pointing to the sub and asking questions. I grabbed my flight case and hurried after her.

The way his hand had been on Tanya's thigh still bothered me but, now that it was over, I could chalk it up to Volak sexism—it might not be a San Relando, but it still wasn't exactly forward-thinking. We were out of the SUV and after this, we probably wouldn't see the captain again for the rest of the trip. Besides, Tanya had called in a lot of favors to get us this gig and I wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize it. This film could be our best ever.

The submarine had once been the pride of the Volakia navy. It carried ICBMs once targeted at cities in the US, but rapidly looking outdated and irrelevant in today's peaceful times. That's why it was about to take its final trip. It was going on a four day voyage to a shipyard where its missiles would be removed and the sub itself would be decommissioned. The end of an era. A sad day for captain and crew. A massive, fascinating piece of military hardware, soon to be gone forever. This voyage had it all...and we were there to capture it. For four days, we'd live alongside the sailors. Tanya would do interviews while showing the viewers the sub and, at the end of it all, we'd have hours of footage to cut together into a whole series of documentaries. This was going to be epic, in every sense of the word.

"We will go on board," said the captain. "But I want to make it clear before we do: this is still a navy vessel for another four days. While you're on board, you may be civilians but you will be under my command. Understood?"

I hesitated for a split second, thinking of that hand on Tanya's thigh. But when I glanced at my wife, she gave me an encouraging smile. If she was willing to put with his attentions then I could, too.

"Understood, captain," I said respectfully.

The captain took us aboard and showed us to our cabin. In every room and corridor we entered, the crew snapped to attention, men standing straight and tall, eyes fixed in front. It certainly didn't feel like a submarine on its final mission—the crew were as orderly and respectful as if this was the maiden voyage. Captain Brakov obviously ran a tight ship and, looking at him, I could see why the crew feared him. He had to duck to get through each door and almost turn sideways to get through them...and yet, strangely, I was the one who was awkward moving around, always narrowly avoiding banging my head. This was Brakov's home, I realized, every inch of it familiar. I was the interloper.

It didn't help that I couldn't read any of the signs. Every corridor looked the same and I knew I'd get lost in about thirty seconds on my own, so I made sure I hurried along behind the captain and my wife. A few times, the captain pulled up short and Tanya, unable to stop, would crash into him. She'd jump back and say Orepy again, her eyes downcast—like me in the car, she reacted as if she was the one who'd done something wrong. Then, he would turn around and smile benignly...but I wondered why it was that it kept happening. Tanya has wonderful breasts—large for her frame and just the right mixture of pert and weighty. Pillowing against his back through her blouse, they must have felt amazing. And her soft hair brushing the back of his neck, the smell of her perfume in his nostrils...could it be deliberate?

The two of them were still chatting away in Volak and part of me was annoyed by it. They both spoke English—why couldn't they be polite and let me join in?

The captain had allocated us a private room next to one of the crew's dorms. Walking to it meant walking straight through the dorm, between all the bunks, and Tanya, of course, got a lot of attention. Some of the men must not have known we were coming aboard, because the first reaction was shocked silence. The men stayed quiet long enough for their captain to pass. Once he'd strode off ahead of us, the hushed comments started. Tanya didn't seem too fazed by it but she blushed a few times, so I knew the sorts of things they must be saying about her. They barely gave me a glance.

Our cabin was tiny—barely room for a tiny desk and chair...and two bunks, one on top of the other. I hadn't thought of that. Sex was going to be...interesting.

"I like it," said Tanya with a laugh. "I call dibs on the top bunk."

The captain checked if there was anything we needed—well, more precisely, he checked if there was anything Tanya needed--then left us. I noticed that he gave a long, lingering look back at Tanya as he walked away, and I felt a twist of jealousy. Then I shook it off. It wasn't as if she was going to cheat on me. I trusted her completely. So the captain had the hots for her—so what?

We swung into action—I started setting up my camera rig while Tanya got changed. The sun was going down and we wanted to get some footage from the outside before we set sail.

As I worked, kneeling next to my bunk, something bothered me. There was something off about the cabin we'd been given, something I couldn't put my finger on....

I shook my head. I'd figure it out later. I had a lot to do: checking my lenses, attaching batteries, setting up the stabilization system that allowed me to shoot handheld without getting that amateur, shaky look. But it was difficult to concentrate with Tanya shedding her clothes right in front of me.

First, she took off her business-like blouse, revealing an equally business-like white bra underneath. She unzipped and stepped out of her modest, knee-length skirt and kicked off her heels, then stood there like that for a second while she found her new clothes. She was wearing, as always, black hold-ups that made her long legs shimmer and gleam in the harsh overhead lights. Her white panties were simple, but they looked incredible next to her smooth, peaches n' cream complexion. And just beyond the edge of her panties, high up on the inside of her left thigh, there was her secret—the tattoo that only I and her knew about. A simple design the size of a quarter, picked out in black ink. A tiny flower with a P in the center.

I remembered seeing that tattoo, that night I'd met her. She'd explained to me that it was a symbol of purity, that it indicated that she'd save herself for the man that she'd marry—and she told me, shyly, that she thought that man was me. I'd been secretly delighted that I was her first.

As I watched, she stripped off the bra, changing it for a sexy push-up one. In truth, her full breasts didn't need any help. They were ripe and pert, yet with just enough size and weight to make them bounce alluringly—perfect. Her skin there was beautifully smooth, her nipples a delicate rose pink, and my eyes were glued to them until the bra went on.

With the push-up bra, her breasts were transformed, becoming overtly sexual—the first thing you noticed about her. She put on a low-cut top and then a scoop-neck black sweater, since it would be getting chilly outside. A figure-hugging gray skirt followed, and this one finished well above her knees. The final touch was a pair of smart, three-inch heels. She looked just classy enough to be a presenter, but sexy enough to make any man gasp. When she added a little more make-up, it was impossible not to stare at her pouting, pink lips or those gorgeous blue eyes. She looked breathtaking...and very much the perfect Volak woman, all blonde hair, blue eyes and sex appeal.

This time, when we walked back through the bunks, she got a lot more attention. Without the captain to scare them into silence, there were wolf whistles almost constantly, and a few hands reached out toward her. None of them actually touched her, but there were a few obscene gestures and some comments in Volak that made her blush more than she had before. The men seemed...hungry. I had more time to get a look at them, this time, and they all had that same Volak look—the handsome kind, not the surly kind. Military muscle, I guessed—they weren't allowed to be fat. Still, it was a little intimidating to see just how many strong jaws and blue eyes were on show. Many of the men were between shifts and were lounging around in vests, and I saw Tanya's eyes flick to their bulging muscles more than once.

Outside, she stood on the shore and we shot an introduction piece with the submarine in the background. I noticed that, as she talked, sailors gradually filled the small standing area at the top of the conning tower, some of them climbing down to the deck. They weren't waving in an I'm on TV way—they just seemed to be trying to get a look at her. Tanya didn't mention it, but I found it a little unnerving.

As we were returning aboard, the fresh food for the galley arrived and we had to stand and wait until the corridors cleared. Tanya was off talking to a sailor in Volak, asking him how we felt about the voyage. The sailor next to me motioned to my camera rig. "Pretty cool," he said in heavily-accented English.

It was the first time anyone had spoken directly to me since we'd come aboard. I showed him how it worked and, when it seemed polite, I nodded to Tanya and said, "The men seem to like her."

The sailor beamed and then gave me a wolfish grin. He jerked his head towards the ocean. "We've been out there for three months," he said. "Tonight was meant to be shore leave. But then they say we have to go straight to shipyard." He shrugged. "Men are...how you say? Hot?" He mimed fanning his face. "They want prostituka."

"Oh," I didn't know what to say. God, no sex for three months, and their night of cheap sex snatched away from them at the last minute. No wonder they were horny as hell.

The sailor grinned at me and nodded to Tanya. "You get to film her all day, huh? Lucky guy."

That I could agree with. I beamed and nodded. "Yes, lucky guy."

The sailor nudged me. "Maybe some of us get lucky, no?" He nodded towards Tanya. "Get her legs open?"

Cold shock went through me, quickly followed be rage. Of course—he had no idea we were married. He thought I was just her cameraman. "She's my wife," I said tightly.

The sailor's eyes went wide. "Oh," he said, stunned. Then he looked between her and me. I couldn't tell if he was shocked that she had married me, or that I'd chosen to bring my wife on board a metal can full of horny sailors. He mumbled an apology and walked away.

On the walk back to our cabin, the muttered comments from the men we passed took on a whole new meaning. They weren't just being jerks—they were like dogs in heat. I realized that, that night, some of them would probably jerk off to her, now that they'd seen her and heard her and smelled her perfume.

That should have bothered me—and it did, in a way. I felt angry but not outraged. In fact, the thought that all those horny guys would be lying in their bunks, trying to quietly find relief without their bunk mates hearing, while thinking of my wife's long, nylon-clad legs or her pert, mouthwatering breasts...I kind of liked that. It was a new sensation for me and one I had to try to wrap my mind around, but it was definitely there.

Ahead of me Tanya had stopped to talk to three crewmen, nodding at their answers and scribbling down notes on a notepad. The men seemed friendly enough, but now that I knew the context I could see how much trouble they were having maintaining eye contact with her. Their gaze kept wanting to go downward, to her breasts. I hung back a little, not wanting to interrupt...and a little turned on by the sight of them staring.

As soon as it was polite, I hustled Tanya down the corridor to our cabin and closed the door. "Those guys were getting pretty turned on," I told her.

She shook her head. "Just men being men."

I shook my head. "I'm serious. They were really staring at you. They haven't had a woman in a while." It was getting late, now, and outside I could hear the crew getting ready for bed. "Their only relief is their own right hands," I said.

Tanya clapped her hand over her mouth. "I feel sorry for them. The poor things!"

I advanced across the cabin towards her...which took all of a few paces. "And what do you think they're going to be thinking about, while they lie in their bunks tonight?"

Her eyes went huge. "Stop!"

"They will. They'll be thinking about you—"

"Stop!" But she was smiling. Flattered.

"—writhing under them, legs spread—"

"Jack!"

I had her backed up against the door, now. "Groaning and moaning under them, their hands on your boobs."

She slapped my arm playfully. "I didn't know you got turned on by that."

I stopped abruptly. I was a little surprised myself by what I'd said. I hadn't known it was a turn on for me, either, until that night. I was a pretty normal guy. I watched some porn on the net now and then, the same as anyone, and the usual things turned me on: short skirts; nice breasts; maybe, occasionally, something a little hardcore, like a gangbang. But I hadn't really been aware of this being a turn on until now, except in a very abstract way.

Now I thought about it...what sort of man sets up a company revolving around other men paying to watch his wife run around in a short skirt? Maybe this had always been there, under the surface.

I thought about it. As long as all they did was look and lust, and it was only me who got to see her naked, or touch her....

"Let's give them something to think about," I murmured. And I started to unbutton her blouse.

She bit her lip—something that always turned me on—and said nothing, but she started to breathe faster and faster as I moved down the line of buttons, exposing more and more of her firm cleavage. The push-up bra really did make it a joyous sight, her smooth tan skin as perfect as any model's. I smoothed my hands over her breasts through the bra and she drew her breath in. I pushed the blouse back off her shoulders and off her arms, marveling at the lithe grace of her.

I reached behind her and unclipped the clasp and the bra went loose. I drew it off her shoulders and bared her magnificent breasts, the soft flesh rising and falling as she began to pant. I slid my hands up her body from her smooth, toned stomach up to her breasts, catching the warm globes and lifting them, then letting them fall back into place. She bit her lip again. I rubbed her nipples with my thumbs and she moaned.

"Yes," I said. "Like that."

She realized what she'd done and looked horrified, but giggled a little as well.

I lowered my head to her breasts. First, I kissed each nipple in turn, slowly licking it until it hardened under my tongue. Then I opened my mouth wide and engulfed as much of one breast as I could, lashing it with my tongue while I squeezed and kneaded the other with my hand. Tanya's head started to grind against the door, her long hair cushioning it. Her breath was coming quick through her nose, now, her teeth clamped together to help her stay quiet. But I wasn't going to let her stay quiet. The idea of them listening to her had me hard as hell.

Still licking her breasts, I searched out the zipper on her skirt and yanked it down, then popped the button. She had to wiggle her hips to get the tight garment down them, and I pushed her panties down at the same time. And there, gleaming in the cold light from the fluorescent strip overhead, was the most beautiful sight in the world. Her tiny triangle of neatly-shaven blonde hair, almost the same color as the hair on her head, and, below it, the soft, delicate folds of her outer lips. Tanya has the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen. It's so...private. Her outer lips are quite slender and remain tightly closed even when she's really turned on, almost as if she's shy. Her skin there is a beautiful, natural light tan and the golden hair is very soft. It doesn't hide anything, shaved as it is, just points like an arrow to the heaven beneath. Whenever I see it, I always feel that I'm privileged. Especially because I was her first and only lover. I left her stockings and heels on. They made her already long legs look incredible. I slid my hand down her stockinged thigh, then up the bare flesh to cup her pussy. She groaned.

I smiled. I could see her fighting to control the noises she was making, but it was a losing battle. Tanya has always been a screamer.

I began to rub her gently there, stroking just my fingertips up and down the length of her silken lips. She drew in a huge, shuddering gasp. Her ass ground against the door. Her fast response was always a turn on for me—knowing that she could get going so quickly from just a few light touches. Her outer lips were still closed, but I eased a finger into her...just the tip at first, then slowly in. Yes—she was already wet inside and getting wetter.

My thumb found her clit and started to circle, rubbing the smooth skin of her hood against the nub. She started to thrash her head from side to side, her hips grinding against my hand. "Yes," she whispered at last.

"Hmm?" I asked. "What's that?"

"Yes," she said, louder.

I started to fuck her with the finger, crooking the end of it so that I hit her most sensitive place.

"Ah!" she gasped. "Ah! Yes!"

I fucked her faster, feeling her getting wetter and wetter. Her naked ass was pushing hard against the door, now, grinding like a cat in heat. "F—fuck me," she gasped.

I grabbed her and pulled her over to the lower bunk, laying her down on her back. The bunk was so narrow that she had to bend the knee nearest the wall while the other leg hung down off the side of the bunk. It was an obscene pose, and it made even her pussy lips flower open a little.

I scrambled out of my clothes. Then, as I rolled on a condom, I had an idea. "Say it in Volak," I said.

She stared up at me, momentarily aghast. But as I stood there stroking myself through the condom, her lust got the better of her. "Yeban maya," she panted. "Yeban maya!" Fuck me. Fuck me!

I climbed between her legs and hunkered down over her. The sight of her lying there, naked save for stockings and heels, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling, was incredible. The lips of her sex were open from her position and I could glimpse the glistening moisture inside. I ran the rubber-covered head of my cock over her folds. "Tell me what you want," I said.

She almost glared at me in frustration, but said, "Polozi yago maya!" Put it in me.

"Louder," I said.

"Polozi yago maya!" she yelled.

I was rock hard, imagining the sailors on the other side of the wall, stroking their cocks while they heard her beg them to Put it in me! Put it in me!

I couldn't hold back any longer. I pushed into her. For a second, her tightness resisted me. Then I sank into her depths, her heat blazing around me. God, she felt amazing. Tight and hot and silky smooth around me, and so wet. I slid in to half way and then drew back...all the way out. I wanted to experience the sensation of penetrating her again. That momentary resistance, before her body gave way. I pushed again, watching the anticipation build on her face...and then that vital instant when I breached her and my cock slid deep. This time, I went all the way in, as far as I could, and started to fuck her in earnest.

Even with one knee up and one leg off the bunk, she couldn't open herself as wide as she normally would. The result was that she was tighter than normal, which only made it better. I'm not the biggest guy, but she fit me like a glove, like this.

I sped up. I was on my knees, my hands braced either side of her head. Unlike a bed, the bunk didn't move at all so I could use all my energy to fuck her. I found I could go harder and faster than normal, and that had her tossing her long hair and bucking under me after just a minute or two. "Ah!" she gasped. "Yes! Yes!"

"Say it for them," I panted.

"Da! Da, da!" Yes! Yes, yes!

I really started to pump into her, now. Her breasts were bouncing against my chest, her hard nipples rubbing against me. She was writhing and twisting, thrashing around, and the head of the bed would have been banging against the wall in a normal room. Even so, there was plenty for the sailors to hear. Tanya's breathing had become a series of panting wails, and the beams that secured the bunk to the wall gave a satisfyingly loud squeak every time we moved.

"Da!" she yelled "Da! Da!" Then, "Trudni! Trudni!" Harder! Harder!

I put everything I had into it, my ass rising and falling like a machine between her legs. I was going balls-deep into her on every stroke, now, racing towards my finish—

But she got there first. With a sudden, frenzied groan that turned into a high-pitched wail, she curled upward off the bunk, her head going to my shoulder. I could feel her muscles tighten around me, clutching at me, almost milking me. And it worked. On the next stroke, I went over the edge, shooting spurt after spurt of blazing cum into the condom.

I slumped on top of her. I could hear cheers and applause from the corridor outside. At almost the same moment, we felt a vibration run through the sub as the engines started up and we began to move. We were on our way.

I grinned. This trip was going to be fun.

Chapter 2

The next day, we got to work.

We started by touring the ship, with Tanya asking questions and me following behind her, filming. We went down to the engine room, where the men were smeared with oil and grease. We went to the torpedo bay, where Tanya terrified me by climbing right into one of the torpedo tubes, her short skirt rising around her thighs, and a couple of laughing crewmen pretended to launch her. We visited the galley and the mess hall, the bridge and the missile bays where the huge ICBMs waited for launch. Tanya stood next to one of the massive cylinders so that the viewers would be able to fully appreciate its size and the image—especially when she reached out and caressed the side of one—was guaranteed to make any man hard. Talk about phallic symbolism....

We ate with the crew, in one of the many meal shifts. Everything on the sub worked in shifts because, with 120 men on board, there simply wasn't time for everyone to be anywhere all at once. I looked at the food on my tray with trepidation. There was red caviar and some sort of fish stew together with chocolate and—weirdly—red wine.

As we sat there at one of the benches, hemmed in on either side by men, it hit me how different I looked to the sailors. You would have thought that being big, on a submarine, would be a disadvantage, but all of the men seemed to be strapping examples of Volak manhood, strapping and well-muscled and nearly all taller than me. The two either side of Tanya leaned into her, talking in Volak.

"What are they saying?" I asked.

She blushed. "'Eat up,'" she translated. "'You'll need your strength for tonight.'"

I remembered the noisy sex the night before.

She nodded at the other man. "And this one said something about me needing to keep my figure. Said he's glad I've got boobs and an ass, but he likes a slim waist."

The man she was talking about grinned at me as if that was the funniest thing in the world. Obviously he didn't realize that I was Tanya's husband, either.

"We're married," I said, pointing at my wife.

The sailor looked at me as if I was an idiot. "I know," he said gruffly, and laughed.

He knew. And he was happy to sit there chatting her up, right in front of me. That threw me completely—I didn't know how to react. I reminded myself that this was the nearest they'd gotten to a woman in months, save for the posters I'd seen stuck to the walls over some of the bunks.

Well, no matter. Let them look and lust and even try to chat her up. I knew I didn't have to worry about Tanya cheating, even with good looking men like these. Let them have their fun. I was the only one who got to have her.

***

Late that afternoon, we had to walk through the dorm again to get to the other end of the sub. Behind me, I could hear a few of the men muttering to each other and, eventually, I managed to discern one word I recognized: husband. Word was evidently still filtering through to some of the shifts.

I felt the wave of resentment and jealousy break over my back. I didn't turn around, but I could imagine the looks I was getting. The American aboard their submarine, the one who'd stolen away one of their beautiful women for his own. And me being there meant that they wouldn't have any chance of bedding the blonde bombshell in their midst.

For the first time, I felt a little guilty. Maybe I shouldn't be rubbing their noses in it.

But watching Tanya ahead of me, an incredibly tight skirt hugging every curve of her ass, watching them staring at her, it was hard to resist. Especially when these guys were so macho, lying around with their shirts off and their dog tags dangling between hard pecs. I guess I had a little chip on my shoulder—I'd never been in the military, and years of touring bases had made me aware of the way some military guys look down on civilian men. We're not tough enough, we're not risking our lives for our country, and so on. Maybe I was paranoid, but it bothered me, and this felt like a way of redressing the balance: I may not be like you, but I have her and you don't.

Now, though, it hit me that it wasn't the same on the sub. These guys were my enemy, historically, and communism had been the loser in the Cold War. I realized I'd behaved more like the graceless victor, dangling the spoils of war in front of them. God, was that how they saw Tanya—as a prize I'd stolen from their land?

I was suddenly a little embarrassed, and resolved to tone it down a bit.

***

That evening, tired but satisfied that we'd got some great footage, we went up to the conning tower and watched the sunset with mugs of hot chocolate. We were well off the coast, now, and with the sky lighting up orange and red and the water lapping all around us, it was almost romantic.

Tanya took a long, slow lungful of air. "I'm glad we're staying above water for now," she said. "It's claustrophobic enough down there, without thinking of the water on top of us."

I nodded. Also, having the hatches open helped to keep the air fresh. I couldn't imagine what it was like when the men were on an actual mission, below the waves for weeks at a time. I moved behind Tanya and hugged her, pressing my body into hers. At first, it was just a warm, affectionate cuddle. Then I felt myself begin to harden against her ass.

"Oh," she said teasingly. "It's like that?"

I smirked and kissed her earlobe. "I was just thinking about what we could do tonight."

***

Not long after we got back to our cabin, but fortunately before we'd started getting frisky, there was a knock on the door.

When we opened it, the captain stood outside, his uniform immaculate. I should have known it was him just by the knock—it had had exactly that sort of arrogant terseness.

The captain took two steps into the cabin. There wasn't a lot of room and I found myself squashed up against the bunks by his shoulder. I had to quickly sit down on the lower bunk, or I think he would have gone ahead and bashed me right into the bed frame. The most disturbing thing about it was that it didn't seem deliberate—it was more as if he just hadn't registered my presence, as if I was just an insect to him. All his focus was on my wife. I saw his eyes run over her body, relishing the firm swell of her breasts under her tight blue sweater. She was in another of her mid-thigh skirts again, but she'd just taken off her heels. Which meant that, when she turned and saw him there, she had to crane her head right up to look into his eyes.

"You will join me for dinner, tomorrow night," he told her. "At eight. In my quarters." And then he just stared at her.

I saw her swallow and open her mouth to say something. Then she seemed to think better of it and just nodded.

I had a horrible sense of everything moving and shifting around me, of being out of control. Did this guy really just ask her to dinner, right in front of me? I tried to tell myself that obviously he meant both of us. Obviously he just had lousy social skills and was forgetting to look at me. But it didn't feel like that at all.

"Great," I said, trying to make it into a joke. "Eight."

He turned to look at me with glacial slowness, as if he couldn't bear to drag his eyes away from my wife. When he finally looked at me, it was with a look of such tremendous disdain that I wanted to sink right through the deck. He didn't answer me—it was as if I wasn't worth expending the effort on. Then he turned and left.

I got up and closed the door, then shook my head in amazement. "Can you believe that guy?" I asked my wife. "I mean, I know he has the hots for you, but...."

Tanya gave a sort of don't-be-silly giggle...but something went wrong with it. It was as if the idea that he liked her was so attractive, she couldn't make fun of it.

I looked at her. "You like him," I said.

She didn't exactly shake her head, just sort of tossed it as if I was being foolish.

"You like him," I said again.

Now she looked flustered, blushing and finding things to busy her hands with: folding clothes that didn't need folding. She turned away from me, but I gripped her shoulders and gently turned her back to face me. "Don't you?" I asked.

She dropped her eyes to the floor but nodded.

I drew in my breath. It was the first time she'd ever admitted liking another man. She wasn't the kind of woman who joked about how hot some actor was on TV or which sports star she'd like to bed. The whole time we'd been married, she'd always only had eyes for me.

"Why?" I asked. I knew that he was good looking, and obviously he was big. But I suppose I wanted to know the specifics: was it his eyes, his jaw, what?

She shrugged. "He's just..." She bit her lip. Which was bad, because it meant she was turned on.

And yet...at the same time...something was happening, deep inside me. The sight of my wife, turned on by another man...that was actually a turn on. I actually frowned as I thought it, the idea was so alien to me, and Tanya thought I was frowning at her.

"I don't know," she said hotly. "He just is." And for a second, she sounded actually angry. She never got angry with me.

I was still struggling with the fact that I was getting turned on, thinking of her lusting after him. There was something deeply disturbing about it, like I wasn't entirely in control of my own desires. "Well, I don't think we should go," I said.

Immediately, she looked worried. "We should go," she said. Then, "I mean, it would be rude not to go. And we need his help. He let us aboard."

It was pretty obvious that she didn't want to go just to be polite. I knew it and she knew it. What I should have done was refuse, and end the conversation there. But....

But the thought of her wearing some sexy dress, the two of us going to the captain's cabin and probably eating some pretty good food and having some pretty good wine...and watching him letch over her...that was beginning to sound pretty good. The more I thought about his eyes on her, and even her eyes on him, the more turned on I got.

It made no sense. Shouldn't I be mad with rage? Shouldn't I be dragging the two of them apart?

I decided that it was because it was proof, in a way, of how much she loved me...and of what a hot wife I had. I always thought she was beautiful...but if another man demonstrated that by showing how beautiful he thought she was...well, that was even better. And I always knew she'd be faithful...but if another man—a good looking man—demonstrated that by coming on to her and seeing her turn him down, if she was given a choice and chose me...well, again, that was even better.

That was what it was, I reassured myself. That was why I was turned on. It wasn't so weird.

I looked at my wife. She was standing nervously, still biting her lip. I could tell she was worried that she'd said too much, pushed things too far. "You're right," I said. "We should be polite. We'll go."

She gave me a smile and turned away to get ready for bed. But, behind her, I stood there as a chill passed through me.

It had been the wrong kind of smile. It hadn't been the smile of a happy housewife who's been told she's going to a male strip show, or that she's going to glimpse her favorite actor in the mall. It was the nervous, breathy grin of a teenager going on their prom date.

She didn't just like him. It was much more serious than that. And now I'd agreed, it was too late to back out.

***

That night, I felt I needed to reassert myself. I'd pretty much pushed the captain from my mind, telling myself I was over-thinking the whole thing. So he liked my wife...so what? Lots of guys thought my wife was hot—they just didn't normally come out and say it.

I took her from behind. Tanya was on her knees, back arched and breasts pressed to the mattress, as I slammed into her tight body again and again. I didn't have any intention of teasing the crew, but even without my prompting her rising cries of pleasure were loud. Every man in the dorm must have heard her begging for it to be harder! Faster! I loved the way her breasts hung down, in that position, and the shape of her ass as it pushed back against me. We were on the lower bunk, so she was lit up by the lights on one side of her, the other half of her in soft shadow, and that emphasized her gorgeously smooth skin and curving breasts and hips. It was a sight I wanted to burn into m memory. In fact—

On impulse, I rooted in my bag and grabbed my old Polaroid camera. I bought it because it was retro-cool, but it comes in handy, sometimes, for making souvenirs to give to guys who've helped us out. Plenty of soldiers and airmen around America now had a selfie—innocent, but sexy—of them standing next to a beaming Tanya, and she always signed them with her elaborate signature and a little heart.

As I continued to thrust into her, I pointed the camera at her kneeling body and snapped a picture. The flash fired and she gave a jerk of shock. "What are you doing?!" she asked.

I pulled out of her. "Turn over," I said in a thick voice.

She turned onto her back. She was giving me a doubtful, disapproving look, but she was also horny as hell, actually grinding her thighs together to keep the friction going, now that I'd stopped.

"Smile," I said. And she gave me a sweet little smile. I snapped a picture and seconds later there she was—my wife, stark naked, her arms stretched above her head, her legs tightly together, the blonde hair between her thighs gleaming invitingly. The stark, military setting helped—she looked even more feminine, more alluring, against all that hard metal.

It wasn't the first time I'd taken photos of her—I'm a cameraman with a stunning wife, of course we've got some naked pictures, and video. But it was the first time we'd ever done it while on a job. I grinned as I looked at the Polaroids. It was old-fashioned, but there was something nice about having the image right there in my hand, instead of on a screen.

"Now put it down," she said, "and come back to me."

I didn't need telling twice. I threw the pictures down and pushed into her again, glorying in her satiny tightness, and started to thrust hard. She looked up at me with big eyes as I pumped her, her thighs tight around me. After another minute, her eyes closed and her knees came up, her legs locking around my waist.

I thought of all the men in the dorm, frustrated, stroking themselves. And despite my resolution not to tease them anymore, it turned me on. I was buried inside the woman they could only dream of. And the captain, too. This is what he dreams of doing, but he's not going to get to do it, only I am—

Tanya suddenly gripped my shoulders hard. "Eyakulta vo maya," she gasped.

I hadn't heard that before. "What?" I panted.

"Come inside me," she grunted, face strained.

With a growl, I pushed deep inside her and shot and shot into the condom, and that sent her over the edge, too, her release a long, high-pitched cry. I heard cheers and clapping again from beyond the wall—the men had been listening, even though that hadn't been my intention.

I hugged her close as I slowly softened inside her. "I love you," I told her. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

She met my lips with her own and it turned into a long, tender kiss. We snuggled together for a while before she moved up to the top bunk.

I lay there in the darkness for a while, dozing in the afterglow. The part where she'd begged me to come inside her had been especially hot. Actually riding her bareback would be incredible, but that would have to wait until we were ready for kids—Tanya had an old-fashioned, my-body-is-a-temple attitude to the pill, so condoms it was.

It was strange, though. She'd never once voiced that fantasy before. And she'd said it in Volak without me asking her to.

It couldn't be that...she'd been imagining she was with someone else...could it?

I was exhausted and in a post-sex haze, but it still took me a long time before I dozed.

Chapter 3

Things started to go wrong almost as soon as we woke up.

Fresh water is limited on a submarine. Therefore showers are strictly regulated and you get only a couple of short bursts of water—you press a button and get thirty seconds of water to get wet with, then the water stops and you soap yourself up, then you press the button again and rinse off. Showers are taken in tiny booths, one at the end of each dorm, with a damp, canvas curtain for privacy.

The first morning, we'd been up early and Tanya and I had both taken our turns between shifts, when the shower wasn't busy. Today, though, we'd both slept in. I sneaked in just in time but Tanya, who went after me, was cutting it fine.

The first I knew of it was an angry shout. When I poked my head out of our cabin, I could see a line of men in towels filling the narrow space between the bunks. They all had to go on duty and were waiting for their turn in the shower. And it was occupied.

I knew immediately what had happened. Despite the instructions, sixty seconds of water isn't enough for any woman, especially one who prides herself on her appearance, as Tanya does. She'd hit the button five or six times in a row and the men were getting frustrated.

The guy at the head of the line shouted again, angry, now. And it hit me, from his tone, that they didn't realize it was her in there. They hadn't seen her slip in, and they assumed it was just one of their crewmates.

I could see what was going to happen. I saw the guy at the front lift his hand to the curtain—

"No!" I called, pushing my way towards them. "Ne!"

The guy slammed the curtain all the way open. He was just horsing around—he thought he was uncovering one of his buddies. He even stepped to the side so that everyone could see.

But instead of an angry sailor cursing at him, he revealed a shocked Tanya, her naked body shining with water. She wrapped an arm over her breasts, her other hand going down between her thighs. But it was too late—they'd all glimpsed her soft, pink nipples and the gleaming gold hair, the delicate line of her pussy lips.

The man jerked back in shock, appalled at what he'd done. But he was still holding the curtain, and it came half off its rings, hanging limply down beside the booth. Tanya turned this way and that, looking for cover and finding none. Her towel had been hanging over the curtain and was now soaked on the floor. She'd covered her most private areas, but her naked ass, most of her breasts and everything else was still on show.

I tried to reach her, but the space between the bunks as entirely blocked with men. They only started to move aside when Tanya ran towards them, heading for our cabin. They stepped quickly into the bunks, clearing a path, but the aisle was narrow. Tanya still had to brush against several of them, her face crimson, her eyes huge. They all saw her naked ass rush past, only inches from their faces, for those on the lower bunks. They all watched her breasts bounce under her concealing arm. And as she passed them, I heard the muttered comments. I didn't recognize many of the words, but I recognized the tone. Lust.

Tanya ran into our cabin and slammed the door. Everyone stood there in shocked silence. The guy who'd accidentally torn the curtain down turned to me, his face red. "Sorry," he said in broken English. "I not know."

I nodded tiredly. I believed the guy—he seemed genuinely worried, either because he might have offended her or because he thought he was going to get into trouble with the captain. I hurried back to our cabin to check on Tanya.

She was now wrapped in a towel. She gave me a rueful smile—I was relieved to see that she wasn't upset. Even so, I pulled her into a hug. Partly, I'll admit, because I wanted to feel that gorgeous body against mine.

"Don't mind them," I told her. "They're just horny. They can't believe they've got a woman like you around."

She sort of wriggled against me. "I don't mind," she said. Just three little words, and yet...something about them made me pause.

"You don't mind?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She just shrugged.

I pushed her gently back and looked at her. She was blushing and wouldn't meet my eyes. Why would she be blushing now?

"Did you like it?" I asked.

She gave another soft wriggle. The towel had slipped down between us, and I could feel her nipples hard against my chest. She was turned on. Really turned on.

I couldn't believe it. She'd never shown any sign of wanting to show off for other guys before. I mean, sure, she bounces her boobs a little for the camera, but that's just in fun—and she rarely comes face-to-face with our viewers. This time, she'd been naked in front of a bunch of very horny sailors...and instead of being in tears over it, she was seriously turned on.

I gave her a questioning look. She'd never reacted like this when we'd been filming in other countries, and soldiers had lusted after her.

"Is different, here," she said simply. And she pulled away and started to finish drying herself off, leaving me to wonder what that could mean. What was different about these men? And why had she sounded so Volak when she said it? Her English was normally perfect.

It hit me that I'd discovered something new about myself, since being on the trip. I knew now that I was turned on by other men lusting after her. Tanya must have had her own subconscious desires—or conscious ones she'd been hiding. I'd been worrying about her being upset or scared by all the attention and salacious comments, but it was a turn on for her, too.

For a moment, I was a little jealous. But then I saw her drop the towel and start to pull on her panties, and I smiled. I couldn't really have fun with the situation and then protest when it turned out that my wife, too, was enjoying herself. Let the men gawp and dream about her, and let the captain lust after her as well. We'd be off the sub in another few days. Nothing was actually going to happen.

Chapter 4

We spent another day touring the ship and interviewing the sailors, spending most of our time in the galley learning about the vast amount of food 120 men eat their way through in three weeks. The crew were friendly with Tanya. With me, they were polite but brusque—they just wanted to talk to the blonde again.

That evening, I watched my wife getting ready...and it gave me a weird, unsettling feeling.

In theory, nothing was different. I'd watched her put on her gauzy briefs before, the thin fabric like a mist over her beautiful ass cheeks, the translucent panel at the front showing her tiny triangle of blonde hair. I'd seen the matching bra before, too, simple black straps with a half-cup of solid material and then a band of the gauzy fabric that let her nipples show through—covering her, but not covering her. I'd seen her wear the black hold ups with their thick band at the top before, and the shining black pumps with the four inch heel. So why, when I watched her sitting at the tiny mirror, did it feel so different?

I said something and she didn't even hear it. I had to repeat it twice more before she heard.

That was what was different. Normally, when I watched her getting dressed for a night out, we were talking and laughing, planning the evening. Tonight, she barely knew I was there. She was thinking of someone else. Him.

It wasn't me she was dressing for.

She sprayed a little perfume on herself, then slid the dress up her hips. It was a tight scarlet number with a diagonally-cut skirt, revealing one leg almost up to her stocking top. The vee neck displayed a good portion of the tops of her firm breasts, and the valley down between them. By the time she'd styled her hair into long, loose tresses that hung down her back, she looked absolutely incredible. And then it was time for the make-up—more than she'd wear for the camera. Smoky eyes, emphasized by eye liner. Cherry red lips made shiny with gloss. She was heart-breakingly beautiful.

And I knew in my gut that it was the captain she was doing all this for. I could feel the anger welling up inside like oil from the ground, old primal instincts: why would I let another man look at my woman, never mind encourage it?

But as my eyes slid over the soft curves of her breasts, imagining the feel of the warm skin, I imagined it was his eyes doing it, his mind imagining touching her, and the idea of him lusting after her was electrifying. Something about another guy taking what should be mine.

I mean, not actually taking. Not fucking or even touching—God, no! Just looking. But he'd want to fuck her, and that was a turn on. It was the only reason I didn't change my mind and tell the captain "No."

I didn't have much in the way of formal wear—this is what happens when your camera gear takes up most of your luggage allowance. I threw on a plain white t-shirt and some semi-smart jeans and figured I looked sort of acceptable. And then I took Tanya's hand and drew her up out of her chair and gave her a long, deep kiss.

When we separated, I could see the excitement in her eyes. She was almost breathless with it, nervous and clumsy, dropping her purse twice as she tried to pick it up. Seeing her so jacked up and knowing it was another man who was doing that to her gave me a crawling sense of cold fear...and yet at the same time there was a blazing hot twist of lust inside me. Nothing's going to happen, I told myself. I'll be right there. All he's going to be able to do is look at her, maybe give her a peck on the cheek to say goodnight. Then I'll take her back to our cabin and we'll fuck like we've never fucked before.

If Tanya had attracted a lot of attention before, in a skirt and high heels, it went off the chart with her in a bright red dress and showing a lot of leg. And our route to the captain's quarters took us right through the heart of the dorms, room after room full of men. I watched Tanya carefully, still expecting her to be shy or even irritated...but, although she blushed, I actually caught her smiling a few times. She seemed different, somehow, since we'd come aboard.

Since she met the captain.

His quarters were much bigger than ours. A bedroom—and there was an actual bed, not a bunk—and a separate reception room with a rectangular dining table and three chairs. I noticed it was set with two places on one side and one place on the other. Perfect. I could sit next to my wife and he'd have to look jealously at us from across the table.

"Tanya," said the captain, and he took her hand, drawing her forward so that he could kiss her in greeting. That wasn't so unusual—certainly nothing I felt I could complain about. Kissing on the cheeks was pretty common in Volakia. But the way the captain did it was different. It wasn't casual. It was slow, and he hesitated just before his lips brushed each cheek, as if he could barely restrain himself from kissing her lips, instead. And my wife didn't help matters—she closed her eyes as it happened, and I heard her breathing hitch as he kissed her, saw her whole body grow tense. I realized he'd taken hold of her hip with one huge hand, resting it on the gentle curve just below her waist.

The captain drew back and my wife opened her eyes, looking up at him in wonder. Even in the four-inch heels, he was considerably taller than her.

I was surprised when the captain turned to me—surprised, because he actually acknowledged my existence. "Jack," he said slowly, "will you pass over the wine?"

He pointed me to a drawer and I pulled out a bottle of very expensive looking French Pinot Grigio. I'd been right—the captain did enjoy the best food and wine. Maybe this would be fun—

I froze as I looked back to the table. The captain was sitting on the side set for two, along with my wife. They were sitting next to each other, like lovers.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times. What could I do? Demand that he move? I looked at my wife, trying to signal her with my eyes, but she just glanced across at the captain and gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders.

Looking at them sitting there, the huge hulking man and the delicate, blonde siren, it hit me that they looked good together. Even right together.

I sat down. What could happen? I was going to be right there with them.

The captain opened and poured the wine and it was excellent. The captain shared my appreciation and actually went so far as to do a toast. "To exquisite things," he said, and I smiled as he clinked glasses with me.

And then he looked meaningfully at my wife, and she smiled and blushed.

The food arrived, served by a respectful young officer. Some sort of fish, perfectly cooked, in a rich cream sauce, with potatoes and vegetables. I got the impression that he thought he'd be flayed alive if he spilled so much as a drop of sauce.

We talked, but the captain wasn't interested in hearing about our work, or our life in America. He was only interested in Tanya and her upbringing in Volakia. At first, he made a token effort to involve me in the conversation but, as the entrée was cleared and we ate dessert, he stopped doing even that. I waited for Tanya to notice and say something, to turn to me and involve me in the discussion, but she was glancing my way less and less. Her upper body had turned sideways in her seat, I noticed, so that she was facing toward him, not me. And she was staring into his eyes, hanging on his every word, biting her lip now and again as if she couldn't quite believe she was talking to him. She was awed, just as she had been when we'd first met him, and she was doing it right in front of me.

I felt the anger beginning to build. How dare he? How dare she? She was my wife, dammit, and she was giving him all the attention, behaving as if they were the couple and I was a gooseberry. At the same time, though, I could feel a ripple of heat soak down to my loins. The sight of her enamored by another man was a rush.

And then, as I sat there listening, something that had been bothering me for days finally slotting into place in my mind. I'd kept thinking that there was something wrong about our cabin, and now I'd figured out what it was. The captain had thought that we weren't married. So why had he assigned us a shared room? That made no sense. A single woman wouldn't want to share with her male cameraman.

I turned it over and over in my mind. When the answer hit me, I went cold inside.

It had been deliberate. We were meant to get there, Tanya would see that she'd be sharing and politely ask for a place of her own. And of course the captain would tell her that there were no more cabins available, but—

I glanced around the room. There was a small couch just a few feet away. He'd meant to offer her that. He'd meant to trick her into staying right here in his quarters.

He'd meant to seduce her all along, since he first saw the photo attached to her file. No wonder he'd been annoyed when he found out we were married. Annoyed...but not dissuaded. He still meant to follow through.

The plates were cleared and the captain offered me a brandy—a large one. I accepted because I didn't know what else to do. The conversation had moved into Volak now, so I couldn't understand what they were saying. All I could tell was that the words were coming more slowly, now, the gazes between them becoming more and more intimate. And then, mid-way through a sentence, my wife caught her breath. She just sat there staring at him for a moment, her beautiful breasts rising and falling as she breathed.

Why was she—

She tensed in her chair.

Why would she—

Her eyes grew wide. And then I noticed that only one of the captain's hands was on the table. I pushed my chair back—the other two didn't even notice. And then I could see that huge hand on my wife's upper thigh, her dress pushed up around her stockinged thighs. His palm rested on the smooth skin, his thumb on her stocking top. That meant that his fingertips would be just grazing against—

He's touching her pussy! The bastard has his hand right up against her pussy!

I opened my mouth to yell at him, but at that instant he turned and looked at me and, even though he didn't make a sound I jerked back as if snarled at by a wolf. I can't explain it. I looked at the width of his shoulders, at the solid bulk of his forearm as it rested on the table and I felt...bettered. Put in my place.

And then he turned back to my wife and started speaking to her in a low, intimate voice, as if they were alone together. I looked under the table and my jaw dropped as I saw his hand begin to move. Slow strokes of her thigh, at first, just gliding up and down her smooth skin. But, as I watched, they became a little firmer. He started to drag her leg towards him, which had the effect of opening her up. I saw the gauzy fabric of her panties stretch tight across her mons, curls of blonde hair pushing out against it and, below them, the faint outline of her lips.

The captain kept talking to her, his voice just a deep rumble, now. His hand slid inward until it was resting right on her pussy, cupping her there. Tanya just kept staring into his eyes in adoration.

I was clutching my brandy glass so hard I thought it would shatter. My mind refused to process what I could see before me. Why aren't I moving? I wondered. Why am I just sitting here, letting it happen? I'm going to get up. I'm going to get up and grab Tanya's hand and take her away from this bastard and we'll spend the rest of the voyage in our cabin and the film can go to hell—

But I didn't. I sat there and, my hand shaking, I poured myself another large brandy.

Years before, I'd been walking with Tanya in the park when we'd seen a family walking their dog. It had been a happy, bouncy thing, jumping up and licking everyone, and we'd laughed. But then it had tried to play with another dog: a German Shepherd being walked by a guy on his own. The German Shepherd had suddenly just turned around and growled, and the family mutt had instantly flattened itself against the ground, ears down, utterly cowed.

That's how I felt. Not scared, although there was a part of me that was. But more intimidated. Beaten down, even though he hadn't touched me. And there was another feeling, just as strong, that was keeping me in my seat. My cock was throbbing and hard against my leg.

No. Not this. I like guys lusting after her, but not this—not some guy actually touching her. He's feeling her up, for Chrissakes!

But the more I focused on the sight of a stranger's hand on her pussy, the harder I got. And then the hand started to move, stroking up and down Tanya's soft lips. My eyes widened. I glanced up at my wife and, for the first time in a long while, she turned to look at me.

She looked almost helpless. Not as in scared, or as if he had her trapped. Helpless in her own lust. She was utterly incapable of resisting him—I could see it in her eyes. If I didn't want something to happen, I would have to be the one to stop it.

And I didn't want to. I was horrified to find that a part of me just wanted to sit there, watching them. What the hell am I doing?!

The captain started to rub and I saw Tanya's breathing hitch again and she writhed in her chair. They'd stopped talking altogether, now, and the room had grown silent. The only sound was the almost inaudible rasp of his fingertips up and down the thin material of her panties. The noise went on for long minutes and then...stopped.

I looked under the table. His fingers were still moving and I went both cold and burning hot inside as I realized what that meant. She'd gotten wet for him, so wet that her moisture had soaked through the front of her panties. She rarely did that with me—those tightly-closed folds usually made her arousal difficult to detect until I actually had my fingers inside her. My wife was getting wet for another man—she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted me.

It hit me like a clenched fist in the guts and, just as it did, the captain leaned close to her. I realized what he intended to do and, as if to taunt me, he looked at me again, challenging me with his eyes.

Now. I have to stop them now, before he does this. I can't let him do this. I can't!

But my cock was achingly hard now. The sight of my wife's upturned face, her eyes clouded with lust, was incredible. I wanted to see him do it, even as I hated him for doing it.

The captain gave a tiny smile of victory...and kissed my wife.

It was a long, slow kiss, as if he knew he had all the time in the world. His lips teased hers, then his tongue started to tease along their elegant shape.

Tanya seemed to come awake at the last moment. She didn't pull away, but she looked across at me, eyes wide. Waiting to see my reaction.

We stared at each other. All it needed was for one of us to shake their head or make a move to get up and the whole thing would have been over. But we were both helpless in our lust—she wanted it, and I wanted to see it. We gazed at each other for five beats of my heart...and then she looked back to him and her lips flowered open under his.

The captain growled in satisfaction and Tanya answered with a low moan of her own. Then he was devouring her, pressing down into her mouth, his tongue searching her out and demanding. She gave a strangled yelp of surprise that quickly turned into a groan of pleasure and, for just an instant, she glanced sideways at me, a trace of guilt on her face. What would she see in my own expression? Was I looking back at her with horror or lust? Both?

Whatever she saw, it didn't stop her. Her eyes closed and her own mouth started to move, returning his kiss just as hard.

The captain was still rubbing her with one massive hand. Now the other arm wrapped around her body and started to stroke at her breast, his fingertips playing over the exposed cleavage. She sucked in her breath, shuddering.

He broke the kiss and I saw him glance behind. Towards the bedroom.

He was going to fuck her. He was going to fuck her, right in front of me, if I didn't stop him right now. And suddenly, the adrenaline was slamming through me, pushing me to my feet. It was as if I was suddenly waking up a stupor. What the hell was I thinking?!

I grabbed Tanya's wrist. "We have to go," I croaked.

The captain looked up at me in shock, as if I'd made some awful faux pas by daring to interrupt them. "We're not finished," he grated.

Tanya seemed as if she was awakening from a dream. As I pulled her to her feet, she looked up at me with a mixture of guilt...and, I was horrified to see, frustration. She hadn't wanted to stop.

I tried to haul her towards the door, but he still had his arm around her waist. "Please," I begged, wishing my voice didn't sound so pathetic. I should have been angry—I was angry. But I still felt helpless under his stare, his authority, and that seemed to sap all my power.

The captain stared at me for a long moment and then finally let his arm go loose so that I could pull Tanya away. My hands were clumsy with panic. Every nerve was screaming at me to get out of the room, get out of the room, before things got much, much worse. I eventually managed to get the door open and bundle Tanya outside. Then, just as I stepped through myself, a hard hand on my shoulder pulled me back.

The captain's mouth was close to my ear, speaking too quietly for Tanya to hear. "This isn't over," he told me.

I was so scared I couldn't reply, but I shook my head.

"I want your wife. I'm going to have her. I know you want to watch."

My eyes went wide. He knew!

"I was going to be nice. Now I won't be." And he gave me a push, sending me staggering through the door and down the corridor.

I grabbed Tanya and ran.

Chapter 5

Back in our cabin, I slammed the door and leaned back against it. Tanya and I stared at each other.

"You kissed him," I said at last. "You let him touch you."

Guilt flooded her face. She looked at the floor for a moment. Then she looked back up at me and her eyes were burning. "You wanted me to," she said in a tight whisper.

I felt my face flush red. I had...until I realized what was going to happen if things kept going. "He wanted to fuck you," I said. "He still wants to fuck you. He meant to fuck you right in front of me."

Tanya shook her head as if this was crazy, but she didn't go as far as to deny it.

"Why didn't you stop him?" I asked, my voice rising. "You're my wife!"

She wouldn't meet my eyes. "You don't understand," she said. "It's different, here, with him."

"How? How is it different?"

She let out an exasperated little sigh. "He's different—"

"How?!"

"I can't say no to him!" She shouted it, and with such heartfelt sincerity it shut me up instantly.

I stood there stunned. I could tell she honestly believed it—she had absolutely no resistance, in the face of this man's desires. And we were trapped with the guy.

A cold chill crawled over me at how close we'd come, along with shame that I'd actually enjoyed seeing her touched...even kissed. Thank God I'd stopped it before he actually fucked her.

...

No! No, of course I wouldn't enjoy seeing that. She was my wife! I was the only lover she'd ever had! I couldn't stand there and watch while the captain took her!

But, as I pushed the lust back down inside me, it reminded me of how much guilt I bore, too. I'd let it go much further than it should have. I reached out and slowly drew Tanya into a hug. "It's okay," I whispered. "It's alright. We just went a bit too far. It'll be okay."

She nestled her face into my shoulder. She wasn't crying, but I could tell she was close to it. "But you did enjoy it," she said quietly. "Didn't you?"

I wondered whether I should lie. What would I mean, if I admitted it? Would she think less of me? I'd heard of men like that, who watched their wives with other guys—I wasn't one of them. Was I?!

But I couldn't lie. I'd done enough damage for one night. Besides, the whole thing was over, now—I'd keep her well away from the captain from now on. I slowly nodded, not realizing I was sealing my fate. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I enjoyed it."

We cuddled for a while longer and then, as the fear faded and the feel of her warm body against mine soaked in, I kissed her.

She responded immediately—as if she was picking up where she'd left off with the captain. She practically pulled me to the bunk and I fell on top of her, pushing her dress up. I snatched at her panties and dragged them down her hips. As I tossed them away, I could feel how damp they were.

I looked at her folds, puffy and swollen with arousal. Not from me—it was far too soon. She was still turned on from when he'd rubbed her.

I grabbed a condom and rolled it on, then thrust inside her. Immediately, I gasped at how wet she was—God, it was almost dripping out of her! I buried myself on the first thrust and she groaned in pleasure. I knew I wouldn't last long. All of the sexual heat that had built up inside me as I'd watched them together was still there, just waiting to rise to the surface. I began to fuck her in short, hard strokes.

Tanya started to toss her head on the pillow, whispering something to herself. I realized she was talking in Volak—and too quietly for it to be for the benefit of the sailors in their dorm. I couldn't make out every word, but it was something about in me.

I realized with a shock that her eyes were closed. Was she thinking of him? And to my horror, my cock twitched at that thought. I started moving faster, faster, and Tanya began to roll her hips under me, spreading her thighs wider, reacting more powerfully than she had in a long time. My hands found her breasts through the dress and she arched her back, grinding them against my palms. My hips were slamming into her, now, approaching my end, but I tried to hang on. And then she was cresting the peak as well, her head thrown back and her mouth open as she mouthed something—

Kapitan?!

And then she was shuddering beneath me and I groaned and shot my load into the condom.

When we went to our own bunks and I lay there in the darkness, I couldn't figure out which disturbed me more—the fact that she'd seemed to be thinking of him, or the fact I found it a turn on.

Another few days, I thought. And we'll be off the sub. Once she was safely away from here, maybe this could just become a quirk of our sex life, an occasional fantasy. I began to relax a little. We'd stopped in time. The captain had groped her, but it wasn't like they'd had sex. And soon, this whole thing would be over.

I didn't know how wrong I was.

We awoke to an alarm blaring. I heard the captain on the public address system, issuing a long string of orders. I didn't understand a word of it until he got to the end, when there was one thing he repeated. Poyhenye! Poyhenye!

Dive, Dive!

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