Following Wes's departure, Cheryl lazed. She considered returning to the beach, perhaps the pool, did she want another drink? But inactivity won over the thought of animation, she lounged on her rumpled bed, allowing the sensation of ephemeral contentment to bathe her, letting her mind drift.
She'd booked this trip to Ixchel, a scandalous resort on the island of Effusion, in the string of atolls north of Venezuela, with the intention of having a sexual binge. She was no stranger to sex and since the divorce, finalized almost exactly one year earlier, she'd had three lovers. Each had been fun, but they seemed to want a woman who'd be 'faithful' to them, at least as long as they were willing to stick around. Cheryl desired more, fornication for no reason other than pleasure, and in an adult chat room one night someone told her about swing clubs and resorts. She checked around, considered Hedonism, but then this place got her attention. Although it was somewhat smaller it seemed popular with the more mature crowd, she booked a vacation. It gave her a bit of a chuckle to think her ex-husband was paying for this week through the alimony.
It was her intention, her yearning, to explore her eroticism, become a libertine. Through her marriage she’d been very vanilla, not through any revulsion to variety, but because her husband didn’t seem to desire anything beyond the three basic positions. The men she’d been with since her divorce allowed her a few idiosyncrasies, such as tying her up at her request, but their heart hadn’t been in it. The most adventuresome of them had recoiled at the thought of allowing another partner into his bedroom with them; Cheryl hadn’t been surprised when he dumped her a couple of weeks later.
Cheryl was hoping on this trip to begin participating in at least a few of her fantasies: group sex, lying with a woman, interracial relationships, and, of course, the one that had already been fulfilled, a really good sized cock. Thank you, Wes!
The light seeping through the blinds dimmed, Cheryl dozed, when she regained a semblance of consciousness the room was dark save for the desk clock that read '7:03.' She stirred, headed for the bathroom, started the shower. As warm water streamed down her body she ran the cloth over it, when she brushed her erotic zones the memory of what her recent lover had done for her stimulated her again, she sensed her desire for further forays.
Forty minutes later, her hair dried and brushed, a bit of makeup applied, and a floral vestment donned, she left her retreat, headed for dinner. Four various restaurants dotted the resort, this evening she choose the beachfront bistro. The line was perhaps ten couples long and she dutifully joined the queue. She noticed some of the men would glance at her meekly, if she caught their eye their gaze would duck away. Other men, and some women, would scrutinize her, wonder why a female would be here without her date, perhaps he was ill with sunburn? Would it give them an opening, an advantage, an opportunity for antics? Although the looks were jarring, Cheryl took them as they were meant, curious and friendly. But before even a minute had passed, she saw Wes approaching. "Cheryl? Hi! Are you alone? Pat and I just sat down, would you like to join us?"
She agreed, followed him to a picnic table in the sand, sat on the bench. Twenty yards away the tiny waves of the Caribbean gurgled against the beach, the western sky still had the darkest of indigoes to indicate where the sun had set, the evening star twinkled gaily. Wes sat beside his tallish and attractive wife, darkish complexion with brunette manes dangling over her back, her valley exposed between the straps that held her frock up. "Hi, I’m Pat. You’re Cheryl? Oh, I see why Wes was so enthusiastic, you’re simply stunning!"
Cheryl was momentarily astounded, she wasn’t accustomed to a society in which a husband could be stirred by a strange woman and his wife wouldn’t object, might even encourage camaraderie. Intellectually she’d studied the aberration, but like a village in a third world country, you didn’t really understand the inhabitants until you lived among them. Cheryl mumbled a phrase of appreciation, not for the loan of the husband but for the compliment, returned one of her own to the other woman.
Drinks were set before them, dinners of salads and the freshest fish with rice were ordered, and Cheryl found herself being interrogated without rancor. "Yes, this is my first time down here, or even at any thing like this. You see, my husband walked out on me, he fell in love with a gold-digging receptionist. Of course, it wasn’t the first time, he’s had affair after affair while I stayed at home raising the babies. Well, he told me he wanted to live with her, I think it’s an empty-nest, male menopause problem, I just told him to get out and got myself a good lawyer. He screamed like a stuck pig but in the end he decided to settle rather than let it all be made public. Of course, a couple of months after the divorce the tart left him for somebody with more money!
"Well, there I was, getting along in years, and when a guy started dating me, I found out I still enjoyed sex. But the guys who wanted to date me also wanted to marry me or keep me as a pet. I don’t want that, at least not now, but I’ve got one of those situations where I can’t just go down to a bar and pick a guy up, you know. Junior league and the volunteer at the museum and such. But I’m too young to calcify, so I found out about this place, and here I am!"
"Well, with an attitude like that you’re going to have a lot of fun down here," Pat incited.
"Do you have any suggestions? You guys have come down here before?"
"Oh, yes, it feels like we’re old hands. Let’s see, you won’t have any problem attracting guys, just hang out, they’ll be all over you like flies. Go to the nightclub, you’ll have your pick. Don't do anything you don't want to do. If somebody is bothering you and you want them to go away and they won't, let somebody in management know; they'll put a stop to it. And watch out for the single guys, unless . . ." Beth got a fiendish grin.
"Well, there's some single guys down here. The resort doesn't allow a whole bunch, probably ninety percent of us here are couples. But that ten percent likes to get around. They can be persistent. And, well . . . oh, hell. Last year, I got three of them in a room at one time. Mark was there as well, just making sure I was safe and taking a video. It was a lot of fun. If that's something you want to get into, it can happen."
Cheryl had never considered it before, but, hmmmm, the idea was mildly interesting. Who knows? "Okay, anything else?"
"Well, as a single woman, I imagine you'll get invited to your share of threesomes. Most men want to see their girl with another one, and have both of them. It's pretty much a guy thing. Some of the wives will just go along with it, others will really be into the scene. If you want to try it, you'll make some man very happy. Just make sure you're making yourself happy at the same time."
The orientation was welcome, Pat seemed anxious to help a sister. She found out more about them, they’d found the Lifestyle when it appeared both of them were heading for affairs, they’d started with voyeurism, simply watching other couples, letting them them watch them, it had progressed to soft-swap, exchanging for titillation, and then one night they threw caution to the wind and made love to two friends. In the nine years since, almost any combination you could think of had been tried with more or less success. Pat and Wes seemed neither embarrassed nor proud of their 'hobby,' took it no more seriously than you might golf or gardening. Cheryl found their situation absorbing.
As the meal concluded, the couple invited, "Hey, we’re having a little party in our room tonight. Two other couples, perhaps you’d like to join us? We’re meeting them at Club Sapphire.”
"Maybe," Cheryl prevaricated. She didn’t want just to sit around talking, her desires were more wanton. But she accompanied them to a lounge, exposed to the tropical wind on three sides. A pretty fair band was playing, hard rock perfect for dancing. She let Wes get her a drink while she met the other couples. Introductions were lost in the loud pouring beat, Pat went off to dance with one of the other husbands, Cheryl watched agape as the other man let his hands wander Pat’s curvy body. Then as one of the husbands asked her to dance, Pat spied as the other two ladies took to the floor. They danced more closely than the man was swaying with Cheryl, hands touching hips, shoulders, then rear ends, breasts. When the two women kissed fervidly, Cheryl realized this resort was not simply about opposite sex fun. Something stirred slightly within Cheryl, she wondered what it would be like to be with another member of the fair sex, would it be as much fun as a man? But the gentleman she was with reached for the lowest part of her rear anatomy, she put her own mouth up for a kiss, it was clear if she allowed the situation to continue - and she wasn’t necessarily opposed - she would do more than simply dance with him.
The association of the seven bodies continued for some time in various combinations, sometimes including others from outside the sixsome, until finally Pat shouted into Cheryl’s ear they were heading to the room, did Cheryl want to come? A part of Cheryl wanted to go, what would it be like to be in the middle of six naked, sweating bodies? Which of the men would take her - or would all of them? It was new, it was strange, Cheryl didn’t quite know what to make of it. And so, after a moment’s hesitation, she held back. "Maybe another time?”
"Yeah, sure, we’ll see you around. If you change your mind, here’s our room number."
"Okay!" As the conclave departed, Cheryl wistfully watched them disappear, thoughts of what they would certainly be doing forging indentations in her mind.
Suddenly the band seemed too loud, the dancers too inflamed, she wanted a quieter spot, but she still wanted company. And stepping out onto the lawn then walking towards the reception area, she found what she was looking for, an outdoor bar, padded wicker chairs and settees, soft jazz complementing the sound of night insects. The native bartender poured her a white wine, she sat on a high stool. Thirty or so denizens occupied the space, mostly couples, a few larger groups of four or six, a smattering of single men who checked her out, a bit uncomfortably for Cheryl who was reminded that to some people she was little more than a piece of meat. After some minutes of sitting by herself, she was approached by a gentleman, tailored shorts and button down shirt, thinning salt and pepper hair waving in the breeze, laugh lines who invited, "Hi, I’m Steve, would you like to join my wife and I?" He pointed to a mildly attractive woman with short sandy hair, and Cheryl, having nothing better to do, sat at their table. In a soft drawl he asked, "We’re from Nashville, where y’all from?"
"Dayton," Cheryl admitted. The conversation advanced, how-long-are-you-going-to-be-here, the-weather-is-beautiful, and finally got to the query Cheryl would hear over and over in the five days she had scheduled, what’s-a-single-woman-like-you-doing-in-a-[perverted]-place-like-this? Cheryl again explained her circumstance, and then turned the table. What were Steve and Alexis doing here?
"Well, a couple of years ago, Steve got me to take a lover, it was his fantasy," Alexis explained. "I didn’t protest too hard once I realized he was serious. Steve got so excited when I’d tell him about what the guy did to me. We progressed into a few threesomes, me and a guy and Steve, and then I suggested finding another couple that wanted to swap. It took us a very long time, we got accused of being much too picky. But finally we found some friends, and the hurdle got jumped."
Steve took over. "We had some vacation time, heard about this place, decided to come on down. We got here a couple of days ago, but haven’t gotten into any action yet . . ."
". . . not that we haven’t been asked . . ." Alexis interrupted, ". . . but we’re quite hopeful."
The conversation seemed to lag, Cheryl wondered if they were waiting for her to confess any sins (just one, so far!) on the primrose path Cheryl had taken, but she wasn’t about to kiss and tell. "You’re very attractive," Alexis flattered.
"Thank you. Both of you seem very nice."
"We’ve got another fantasy," Alexis whispered. "Actually it’s really Steve’s, but I’m willing to try it."
"Cheryl, have you ever been with . . . I mean . . . you know . . . a woman?" Cheryl thought back to the warning Pat had given her, not three hours previously. The woman certainly knew her swing resorts!
"I’ve never even thought of it until I got down here!” A slight fib, but near enough the practical truth.
Alexis leaned over, put a hand on Cheryl’s knee. "Well, do you think you might be interested?"
"I don’t know. Maybe, someday. I came down here for new experiences, and that one certainly is new," Cheryl laughed. "And you guys are really sweet. I might be tempted. But not tonight, I think."
"Oh." Cheryl felt a little bad, somehow guilty, how she’d sunken their hopes. But Cheryl knew she wasn’t ready for a woman, not yet, wanted something else. Now if Alexis had said, 'Well, what about Steve, would you mind taking him back to your room,' there might have been a different outcome. But not a package deal, not this evening - or morning, since the midnight hour had passed.
There was a little more talk about safe subjects, the couple was polite, even gracious, and a few minutes later they took their leave, hugs from both of them, Steve perhaps a bit more ebullient.
Cheryl didn’t feel tired, despite the long day of travel, the late hour. She sat at the table, sipping at her wine, and to her surprise, the waitress brought her another glass. "I didn’t order this."
"It’s from the gentleman over there."
Oh. And the man she pointed to at the bar tipped his glass and raised his eyebrows. There was nothing wrong with him, a few years older, thinning grey hair, a couple of bags under his eyes, and if the body type was far from svelte, he had a nice grin. 'Why not,' Cheryl thought, and gave a head nod meaning, 'come on over.'
"I bought you a drink," was his first words.
"This is an all-inclusive resort, the drinks are free," she laughed.
"Really? Then why did they charge me ten bucks?" It was said straight faced, but laugh lines next to the eyes gave the joke away.
"Sit down, my name's Cheryl."
They traded the usual information, where they were from, wasn't the resort nice, Cheryl revealed it was only her first night while he was on his last. "So," said Ted, a little uncertainly, "why did you come down here?"
"I wanted to get laid." Cheryl flinched. Did those words really come out of her mouth? Oh, my goodness, what must he think of her?
"Well, at least we've got something in common," Ted laughed.
Cheryl took a long sip. Her ears were red, she knew, she must look like a fool. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."
"Don't worry about it. And, have you been successful?"
Cheryl caught her breath after the gaffe, took a sip of her drink, then saw the humor in the predicament, let a shy smile return to her face, decided to challenge him. "Well, to tell the truth, it’s been a good day."
"Oh, tell me about it."
She looked around, saw the bar had emptied except for two other tables, not near them, saw no harm. "Well, as soon as I arrived, a guy picked me up. I had a blast. How about you?"
"Oh, my god, don't I wish. I heard this is a paradise for a single guys, and maybe it is if you're young and handsome, but I've been pretty bored here. Three nights ago a couple picked me up late at one of the bars, there wasn't much else going on for them and she decided she wanted a threesome. Other than that, pretty much nothing."
"So you won't be coming back next year?"
"Probably not. I can go to bars and get ignored back home. Although the scenery here is better, and I had fun sailing on the sunfishes. Passionné Island is cool, too. Have you been there yet?"
"No, not yet. I'm thinking about it, though."
Cheryl had had enough wine, Ted offered, "Would you like to take a walk?"
"Sure." They passed two of the pools, then went down to the beach. Cheryl took off her shoes, let the velvety sand massage her toes.
"Can I ask you something?” she said.
"You said you got into a threesome. What was it like?"
"Haven't you ever been in one?"
They began traipsing the garden paths again. ”Hmmm. Well, I've been with a few couples back in Milwaukee, one couple and I stayed friends for a few years. It really depends on what they want. The other night, this woman wanted me to do her, the husband just wanted to watch."
"Was it exciting?"
"I guess it was for him. She got off on it a little, too, sometimes she'd tell her husband what I was doing to her. I just sort of ignored him and concentrated on her."
“This is the door to my room," she pointed.
"Oh, well, then I guess this is goodnight?"
"Doesn't have to be, not yet. Why don't you come in for a little while?" Cheryl offered.
"Well, okay." The tone was neither enthusiastic or confident; in fact, it reflected the confusion he felt. The last thing he'd expected was that she'd pick him up. But he followed her into the room. Cheryl started it, approaching him and putting her mouth up to be kissed. As soon as he started, he began pawing at her breast. She didn't care for the quickness of the ploy, she broke.
"Listen, I'm going to go into the bathroom for a minute. Why don't you get comfortable?" In the powder room, she took the dress off, made sure her hair wasn't mussed, and then returned to him in bra and panties to find him naked on the bed, his erection evident. Cheryl wondered how to slow him down, she wasn't in any great hurry, her mood was languid. She crawled beside him, he nudged her until she was on her back, his mouth was on hers, his hand on her breast, between her legs. "Take it easy, we've got plenty of time," she suggested, but he didn't respond. He pulled a globe from the fabric, sucked at the nipple, Cheryl unsnapped the back, letting him have his way with the breasts. He shifted, the penis was near her mouth, it was clear what he wanted, Cheryl accepted it between her lips. She did little to excite him, the thrusts were all his, a little too deep for her comfort, she choked as the tip hit her throat. She pushed him unto his back, then resumed the blow job. Even though he continued to try to thrust, she resisted his attempts to control the pace. As she sucked, she pulled her panties off, and crawled up on top of him. She positioned herself above him, started to sink down then realized she was just a bit dry. It pinched, she grabbed a bottle of lube, coated his rod, then her own entrance, the insertion was smooth. Ted was inside her, he was playing with her breasts, Cheryl turned her mind to the business at hand, moved her hips to create movement up and down, side to side and found -- nothing. It wasn't unpleasant, this strange man's dick inside her canal, but it didn't seem to be provocative, either. He was moaning inchoate phrases, Cheryl suddenly understood all the fun would be his.
This wasn't a new sensation for her, there'd been so many times she'd let her husband have her when she wasn't in the mood, her lovers back home hadn't satisfied her each and every time. But this was a little disappointing, illicit coupling was supposed to be a high, wasn't it? Even when she put a finger on top of her clit and twiddled with it, the effect was less than dynamic. Ah, well.
Cheryl continued her movements, the friction must have been working for Ted, his breathing became hasty, he got the look men do, Cheryl clamped her vaginal muscles and moved faster. Ted grimaced, shuddered, Cheryl knew her bun was being filled with his sauce. When it was clear he was finished, Cheryl disengaged herself, laid beside him for a polite moment, wasn't unhappy when a few moments later Ted rose, went into the bathroom, then began to dress. She turned her back to him, threw a tunic over her shoulders. Yes, a few words were said, “Thank you,"
"You were great,"
"I enjoyed it,"
"Have a nice flight," and the like, but when Ted walked through the door and Cheryl saw the last of his back, there was a grain of relief.
It would have been so easy to put a nightgown on and crawl between the messed sheets, but Cheryl was cognizant her time here was limited and she didn't want to waste any of the moments she had left. And so she swabbed her armpits, torso and groin with a washcloth and put on a bikini. She strolled to a heart shaped pool she'd seen on a walk, secluded and mysterious with a waterfall, and lazed in the tepid water. A couple cuddled in a niche, oblivious to Cheryl's incursion, and she watched surreptitiously as the lovers passed from giggles to kisses to fondling. When they got out of the pool and went over to a lawn mostly hidden by bushes, Cheryl listened to grunts, moans and even stifled shrieks from the girl; the audial performance was far from unpleasant to Cheryl's ear. Ten minutes after they'd started, the couple was gone, Cheryl had the pool to herself. Insects chirped, the air was sweet with the aroma of night blooming flowers and the scent of salt water, every half minute or so the low growl of the surf was punctuated as a wave broke heavily; Cheryl felt completely alone, and so she was less than bashful as she stripped first the bra off, and then her panties. She unwound in the warmth of the water, allowed her mind to detach. She couldn't have told you what she was thinking of, if, indeed, she was thinking at all. The state might have been prayerful, perhaps meditative. The few times when a couple or man passed by and gazed at the unclothed body floating freely, they chose not to disturb Cheryl's karma. Following some immeasurable eternity of disassociation from the world, Cheryl gently comprehended she felt waterlogged and the tips of her fingers were furrowed from immersion. She sensed the time had come to abandon the water. She remained dressed as God had intended on her return to the room, if she was watched she was neither aware nor concerned, the breeze dried all traces of moisture from her skin, she slid between the sheets and slept dreamlessly.