It seemed to Marion that Chuck was more than usually grumpy at the thought of their winter vacation. "Oh, come on, Chuck--it's a week in the Dominican. Why so glum?" Chuck continued to paw through some shirts and underwear and stuffed some clothing in his suitcase.
"Airport security, cramped planes, customs, strange languages, and people we don't know...why would anyone want to put themselves through that. I'd be happy if you just went by yourself. All I do is read in the room and get blitzed at the bar. You're the one that likes to lie out on the beach or have dinner at a restaurant with people we don't know."
"Well thanks a lot. I work awfully hard so that we can enjoy a week away by ourselves, and you don't even want to go. The taxi will be here in twenty minutes...you decide what you want to do."
Twenty minutes later the cab arrived. Chuck was still not saying much, and Marion was not even sure if she wanted him along. Every year, this same argument took place, and every year they seemed to enjoy their 'winter retreat' less and less. Nevertheless, a week without snow was a week without snow.
The flight was not as bad as Chuck had predicted, and the resort was even better than expected. There had been a scary moment at the airport checkin when Chuck realized he hadn't picked up his passport, but before he could say, "Jesus, Marion...." she had pulled both passports out of her purse and passed them across the counter.
Even the bright sunshine and coloured umbrellas had done nothing to take the edge off Chuck's mood, and so while he 'rested up' in the room, Marion pulled on a bathing suit and wrap, and headed to the beach.
One of the reasons that Marion liked this particular resort was the lack of kids. She had reached a time in life when she was not as comfortable sitting on a beach where people would compare her middle-aged body with the lithe and taut size two's in their string bikinis, and while it wasn't a "lifestyle" resort, she enjoyed some of the flirtation and double entendres that punctuated dinner or the nightclub.
Two hours later, she went back to the room, showered and dressed for dinner. Chuck had gotten up when she came in, and had been pleasant enough, even complimenting her on the dark blue pleated skirt and light blue knit sleeveless sweater that highlighted her skin and shoulders. As they walked to the dining room, Marion said, "See...it's not so bad."
"I suppose not, but a bit of eye-candy wouldn't hurt the place. Why do you pick a place where we're the youngest ones here."
"We are not the youngest ones here; I just don't like having a bunch of kids around. We're grown ups, at a grownup resort, and I'd like to enjoy the company of people our own age." Marion realized that she had raised her voice a bit, and as she looked around to see if she had been overheard, made eye contact with two men waiting at the maitre'd's stand. The taller one smiled at Marion and winked; Marion blushed and glanced away.
After they had been seated and ordered their meal, Marion glanced around again. Strangely, even though there were about sixty people in the dining room, the two fellows she had seen earlier were the only ones that didn't seem to have a partner. "Maybe they're gay," Marion thought.
"What's the matter with you?" Chuck whispered.
"Why?" Marion replied.
"Jesus, look down."
Marion's nipples were clearly visible under her sweater. "I must have gotten cold," Marion said, although her thoughts were not so straightforward. She was clearly thinking about the two guys at the other table, especially the taller one, and had been unaware that her body was beginning to betray her. "When I dressed tonight, I put on something a little sexier. We're on vacation, Chuck...what's the matter with people thinking that I'm excited." She knew she was blushing a bit, but the light was low, and she was tired of Chuck's constant nagging. While they ate, Chuck said little, had a double scotch for dessert, and was quick to sign off on the meal chit.
"I'm going to the bar," he announced, pushing his chair back and not waiting for Marion.
Marion glanced back to the table where "her guys" had been sitting, but they too had slipped away. Frustrated, she went back to the room, pulled on a pair of silk pyjamas, slipped into her sandals and went to walk the beach in the moonlight.
Tiki torches lit the path between the cabanas, and as she made her way to the ocean frontage, occasionally heard the soft moans or delighted squeals of love-making coming from rooms.
As she went by one of the beachside (that is, expensive) cabanas, Marion heard a woman's moans. Unable to resist, she glanced between the curtains on the window. The tall fellow with the beard that she had seen in the restaurant was lying on the bed, a middle aged woman astride his his chest as he obviously licked at her pussy, her plump ass grinding against his chest as his hands cupped her breasts. Marion looked at his cock -- she couldn't help herself -- and liked what she saw. He was about six inches, circumsized, nice-looking balls, and judging from the look on his partner's face, seemed like he knew what he was doing. Marion had never seen people making love before, and felt herself getting wet as the woman reached behind her to grab her partner's cock as he moved his hand down placing his thumb against her clit. Marion watched as the woman covered the guy's hand with hers, and press his his thumb into her crotch. She echoed the anonymous woman's gasp, and suddenly realized that she had slipped her own hand inside her pyjama bottoms and had slid a finger between her own lower lips.
Marion was fascinated as she watch the woman hunch back towards the fellow's cock, clearly inserting it, rocking forward and back. Marion masturbated furiously as she watched them fucking, and in some cogent part of her mind wished that Chuck were as imaginative. He was as predictable as the suppertime news, and she knew that after two minutes of kissing he'd finger her until she was a bit damp, and then fuck for about fifteen strokes before he finished, oblivious to her own pleasure. As she thought about the number of times that she had finished herself with her fingers after Chuck had rolled over and gone to sleep, she pleasured herself looking at the couple in the window. Both of them really seemed to be enjoying themselves, and it was clear that the woman was cumming repeatedly.
Marion moaned through her own climax, licked her own fingers as a way of making it real for herself, and walked to the beach.
By the time Marion got back to the room, Chuck was in bed. She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and slipped in bed beside her husband. Wanting nothing more than some human comfort she pressed herself against Chuck, but he just moved farther away. Frustrated yet again, Marion hugged her pillow and slept fitfully until she heard Chuck get up in the morning and go to the bathroom. Going to the window, she pulled back the curtains and saw her "two guys" headed for the beach. Making a quick decision, she pulled on the new bathing suit that she had gotten just before their trip -- blue, with a white stripe, a mesh back that left a lot of skin but provided enough support for her breasts, and a higher cut around the thighs and hips than she usually wore. She shouted to Chuck that she was heading to the beach, and quickly made her way along the path that looked so different by day.
Scanning the sand, she saw "the guys" about forty feet away just putting down an umbrella and blanket. She went into the water until it was about shoulder deep and began a decent crawl parallel to the beach, turning every hundred yards or so. After six "lengths" she was feeling a bit tired and started to edge in towards the shore.
"Nice workout!" a voice said. Startled, Marion saw her bearded acquaintance swimming alongside her.
"Yes, but enough is enough before breakfast! I'm heading in," Marion answered.
"May I join you?"
"Won't your friend mind?" Marion asked.
