IT'S OPEN by Todd Sutherland "I think I'm gonna go for a dip," he'd told her, standing there with all the sweet honesty of a choir boy (in spite of the fact that he was completely naked, which was expected here). He'd even remembered to take a towel to cement the illusion; draped around his neck, its whiteness played well against the red glory of his bare chest. "I'll come too," she'd said, but he'd put her off, suggesting she get settled in. Like we've got a lot to unpack, she'd thought darkly. But in the end, she'd let him go, and he'd drifted off for his 'dip'. Five minutes later, when she stood at the window that overlooked the outdoor pool, she could see plainly that none of the joyous, splashing, wet-matted figures was her husband's... It had been his idea to come here, not hers. She knew the reputation of this place, though he denied it as rumor; it had hurt her that he would seriously suggest that they vacation here, at the Greyspire Naturist Resort on Imvideria. "You're crazy if you believe that crap," he'd tell her. "We're talking about a family resort here! Do you think they could afford to let that sort of thing go on and still stay in business?" But that he would generally bring the subject up at night in bed, when they were in an amorous mood, added little force to his argument. She knew he dallied occasionally. He was, of course, carefully discreet about it—that was in his nature; she had never had any evidence or even a good reason to suspect he'd been unfaithful, but regardless, she did. A wife knows; if you love a man as much as she did and knew him inside out, you couldn't fail to pick up on such things. She endured it, because it was infrequent, because he was careful, but most of all because she loved him and couldn't bear to tamper with the delusion. And now he wanted to go to the Greyspire. He said it was merely because he wanted to experience that sort of free lifestyle; their own state had not yet de-indexed public nudity from its morality laws—the United Democratic States Republic left such matters up to the constituent states. Brefana, where the Greyspire was, had liberalized his laws. "That's why I want to spend our vacation there," he'd say. "We can't even sunbathe nude in our own backyard if we want to," he would say in an outrage that was half-real, half-show. But she knew about the Greyspire; it was a 'family resort' in name only. Like brandy was 'medicinal'; like the Calodan Federation was 'democratic'. From what she'd heard, the Greyspire was a 'family resort' in so far as if you started fucking in the lobby, they'd issue a stern warning the first time. They might chuck you out the second or third. And 'kids know about it almost from the time they can walk' seemed to be the general attitude—if you brought your kids, you either blindfolded them or let them get a visual education. Outdoors, virtually no rules applied; if you strolled though the magnificent forested areas surrounding the resort for miles in all directions, you did so at the risk of tripping over lovers, of all combinations and numbers, at every tenth step. The 'family resort' status was maintained as useful for prospective customers who needed something with which to browbeat their spouses into saying 'yes'. He wanted to go, he said. She did too, deep down, he'd tell her. Didn't they both go naked at home? Didn't they both wait for the day the state would grow up? She would force a smile and feign shyness about the idea; but her tail would always give away her dismay. When the time to decide arrived he'd forced the issue, leaving her no choice but acquiesce; she was not prepared to accuse him. The interstellar journey had taken two days and a night; he had been wound up like a spring the whole trip, to the point of slipping every few minutes because of the sweatiness of the pads of his feet. That night, in their cabin, he'd fucked her like he hadn't fucked her in months; three, four times. That alone, she decided, probably made the trip worthwhile, at least in part. They'd stripped off the moment they arrived in the resort compound; clothing wasn't optional here, it was banned. Your clothes were returned to you when you left. She had no problem with being nude in public, but even now she was seeing indica-tions of what was to come: people a little too freely to touching, holding hands, kissing, fondling... The bus took them to the main complex, a huge hotel and shopping centre made of several beautiful high-rises that vaguely reminded her of erect penises. The several outdoor pools were of a similar scale, and were all not-too-subtly shaped themselves. She would spend the next two weeks eating, sleeping, shopping, washing, wandering (and occasionally making love, probably), all wearing nothing more than the gold chain she wore around her neck. That, and her wedding band. For whatever that would be worth over the next fortnight. And now he'd gone off in search of an adulterous fuck, the first of probably dozens while he was here, and she was left alone, lying on the bed near tears, wondering what to do. He'd left the door slightly ajar; probably not intentionally, he left doors open around the house, but here it was not a good idea. From what she'd heard, around here that was interpreted as an invitation: c'mon in and help yourself. She had no desire to start explaining away would-be lovers, and so she rose to close the door. Taking hold of the handle, she paused. Would-be lovers? What if she-- No, don't be foolish. Still, what's sauce for the goose... No, she couldn't! What if he found out? A million conflicting thoughts clashed in her head, and she found herself excited by the prospect that she could even entertain such notions. She felt herself dampening between the legs. She smiled mischievously. She stepped back, leaving the door open ambiguously—not too open, not too closed. Closed enough to say, 'no, you're mistaken", and open enough that the question might be asked. The thought made her hot. She sat on the bed, trembling, and found her hands wandering down to her clit. Caught up in fantasy, she knelt at the end of the bed, propped on one hand while she masturbated with the other. She imaged a man, any man—maybe even her husband—barging in and taking her from behind as she knelt there. Her breathing became audible as she drifted slowly towards orgasm... Something nagged at her. She glanced up at the headboard and noticed a shadow, coming from the hall. Startled, she looked over her shoulder. There, in the doorway, stood a young man. There was uncertainty on his face, matched with an evil little half-smile. He wants to fuck me, she suddenly realized. Oh, God, he can see right up my cunt! He's been watching me beat off! Her first thought was to spin around, sit on her tail, smile and wave him away. But she didn't. Unsure about what to do, she just continued to kneel there, fingering herself, watching him. He stepped into the room. I want him. She ran her eyes up and down his form: he was a rich red vulpine, like her husband, only more slightly built. He was younger, too; perhaps twenty, if that. Handsome enough, the sort of guy she might be tempted to fuck, if only I weren't married, she thought. Then she remembered what her husband was doing. Had done. Her lust, already worked up, was the fuse, and a measure of revenge provided the spark. You want to fuck me? she asked him silently. With her fingers she spread her cunt open, showing it all to him. Here it is. Let's see what you can do with it. She watched his cock emerge from the mossy fur of his crotch, like an actor parting a curtain, coming onstage. Sure of his welcome now, he stepped forward. By the time he'd crossed to the bed, he was completely erect. He stood behind her, semi-furred cock bobbing gently as he waited for some final invita-tion. Looking down between her own legs at him, she felt a hot wave course through her. He was magnificent. Which was not to say that he had a huge cock; in truth it was rather unremarkable. His balls where a pleasing size and well-defined, covered in a soft white fuzz, but again, they weren't baseballs. No, it was something else. Something about his composure, the way he'd crossed the room; the way he stood there, mere centimeters away from plunging into her and forging ultimate familiarity. The potential made her light-headed—there he was, standing behind her with his hard-on, never having so much as touched a hair on her body. And yet, just five seconds from now... She nodded, wiggling her ass before him. Deftly he took her hips in his hands and, crouching slightly, slid his cock in. He felt slick and smooth against her wetness, her lubrication becoming his own as he put himself in to the hilt. She moaned, as if some great itch she hadn't even suspected was being scratched. He thrusted slowly, deeply in, then retreating; exiting completely on occasion, only to reinsert himself and slowly put himself away to the base of his cock again. Each time felt as glorious as the first. Then he pulled out and did not return. Puzzled, she looked down between her legs again. She could see his cock, glistening with her wetness, the fur plastered down smooth. It looked glazed. Good enough to eat, she thought, wondering if maybe that wasn't what he had in mind. Just as she'd decided that it was, she suddenly saw his face between her legs. His muzzle poked into her crotch; his mouth opened and a long, pink tongue slithered home into her cunt. She grunted, almost going under; she felt so relaxed and so excited at once, she felt she'd either melt or explode. The tongue swathed the walls of her insides; it felt longer even than his cock. She could feel it greedily flicking in and out; he was lapping her wetness up like nectar from a flower. She wondered if his tongue might be enough to dry her out; no, her heat would be enough to keep it steamy as long as he was hungry. She could feel him, jamming his muzzle forward, right into her cunt, as if he were trying to get his whole head inside her; climb back into the womb. She wondered how he could breathe. Her own breathing was frantic; perhaps she was breathing for the both of them. She heard a noise in the hall; her heart froze as she jerked her head towards the still-open door. It wasn't her husband, though she'd been sure it was; in truth, a young feline woman had paused to watch them; gently massaging her crotch, she had uttered an involuntary noise of passion. Caught, the young woman smiled sheepishly. Will she join us? she wondered, smiling back, surprised at how attractive the idea suddenly seemed; but instead the girl gave a quick nod and moved along. Still, there it was again, the potentials. Possibilities that she had never seriously considered before. The risk of being caught. It could have been her husband; could have been him standing in the door now, watching another man fucking his wife. It occured to her that he could be back any time now. He couldn't take too much time if he wanted to make the 'going for a dip' story stand up. It only made the encounter that much more exciting. He had sensed it too, she realized. He was looking at the door, had sensed her apprehension. His eyes narrowed and a little smile grew on the lips of his damp muzzle. He knew! He knew what was going on here! He rose, preparing to impale her again, and the whole thing brimmed over for her and she came, her orgasm shuddering through her even as he slipped back inside. Her cunt muscles contracted, fluttering, grasping his cock like a tight fist and pulling it in. He barked his pleasure and for a moment she feared he'd come too, but somehow he managed to hold off and endure the assault of her own orgasm until it subsided. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him smile. He gave her ass a whack, and she knew he meant business now. This was the crescendo. Now he was fucking her. Really fucking her. In and out twice a second. He stepped off the floor and onto the bed with her, his knees hugging hers as his hands came to her shoulders. She was howling now, grinding her face into her pillow. Three times a second he slammed into her now, his bag spanking against her cunt as if bouncing of its own accord. He was atop her now, the two of them lying flat, and he bit her shoulders, nibbled her ear. His tongue soon followed. She craned around and their tongues met and clutched at one another. Four times a second; his cock like a piston in her shaft, like they were an engine of flesh, revving at redline. She was bubbling inside again; it wouldn't take much. He raised his head and bellowed his triumph; at the same time she felt his hot jism firing out of him, deep inside her. She could feel each jet squirt out, four, five, six... Finally he eased off, rolling away from her and off the bed. She looked at him, standing there panting, blobs of cum still flowing out of his cock, rolling down and dribbling off his balls. She groaned lustily, still hot, still at the precipice of her second orgasm. She felt him again. Did he know? It was his muzzle once more, and once more the tender, all-reaching tongue, gliding up into her belly. Almost at once she fell over the edge, losing herself in her orgasm as he tended to her. Thank you, thank you... He was not there too long; a minute, perhaps two: he was cleaning himself out of her, a living douche. A good criminal always eliminates the evidence, she realized. She wondered how their mingled essences tasted; when he rose from her and gave her one last, deep kiss, she knew. He stood in the doorway for a moment, the two of them staring at each other, forever linked. His erection was gone; his penis more or less concealed again in the fur of his crotch, which was sticky and disheveled, but as such, not really out of place around here. He smiled at her, and then was gone. She was swept up in the magic of it all. Who was he? She didn't even know his name, and yet they'd just fucked the shit out of each other. All without, in fact, exchanging an intelligable word at all. Their coupling had been like that of two wild animals in heat. She reeled, wanting him back—wanting anyone—because soon enough, she knew, she'd be burning again. A shame there hadn't been a free evening or night, rather than 'a dip in the pool'. A shame there hadn't been a few people... She had only just opened the windows to air the place out when her husband returned. "Hi, hon! You all relaxed now?" She stifled the sudden feeling of guilt by remembering that he'd probably just come back from a similar interlude. True to his story, he was wet, dripping in places; there was a vague scent of chlorine in the air. He's good, she thought, guessing that, to give the lie weight, he'd probably jumped into the pool on his way back just long enough to get wet and dampen his towel. Then it struck her that he'd probably been in the pool, covering his ass, while her lover was in hers, fucking her just a few floors above him. Maybe he had even heard them, not even suspecting the cries were those of his own wife being fucked by another man. He'd probably been in the elevator while her lover was licking his cum out of her cunt. The thought that they might have even passed each other in the hall nearly buckled her knees. Hornier today than she could ever remember being, she sauntered up to him as he stood there. She pressed her body against his and stared into his eyes lasciviously. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, pleasantly bewildered as she smoothed her hands over his chest and then nibbled him where is neck joined his shoulder. She slid slowly down his body until she knelt before him. "Hon?" he asked, real surprise on his face. She burrowed her hands into his crotch and retrieved his cock—her cock, for this one belonged undeniably to her, and she meant to make some goddamn good use of it. She fondled his balls and pumped his soft cock gently; having just been worked, it was reluctant to get going, but it still began to rise to the occasion. She began to suck on his balls; he liked that. Casually, he swatted the door, and it slowly swung shut. Her arm shot out and stopped it; she just as casually threw it back open. "Oh, ho! Adventurous, are we? Don't care if anyone sees?" He said it in a teasing way, but it had a clear effect on him: in seconds his cock was rigid, rock-hard and pulsing, and ready to go when she slowly took it into her mouth. She could smell, could taste the other woman on his cock; that didn't matter to her. In the end, he was hers, she was his—they were the main dish and everyone else was spice. She caught a glimpse of that same young feline woman strolling by the open door, smiling pleasantly at them as she sucked her husband's cock; there was also a look of surprise that the male attached to the cock was not the same one who'd been in the room fifteen minutes before. The girl moved on down the hall, long tail trailing after her... Some spice? His cock flopped out of her mouth, bobbing wetly, as she called after the girl. "Hey!" she yelled, waving. The girl stopped, pointed at herself. "Me?" She smiled. "Are you busy right now?" "...No..." "...Want to be?" Her husband looked down at her, open-mouthed, and then he smiled. The feline girl smiled too, turned around and entered their room. Their open-doored room.