Carribean Dreamin'

It seemed as though I had been lying there forever, the lazy warm sun of the Caribbean beating down on my back as I lay in a lounge chair next to one of the many pools at the resort I was staying at. Which pool? I didn't know and, to be honest, I didn't care. As long as the margaritas kept coming and the sun kept baking, I was in Nirvana. Little did I know that a lone cloud passing between me and the sun foreshadowed a change that was to come.

We had been in the Bahamas for four days now, long enough to shake of the icicles and cold stiffness that came with a Midwestern winter. Oh sure, some people rave about ski vacations over Spring Break -- but me, I like to finish my skiing by the middle of March so that I can be good and done with winter (in all its varied forms).

Like most of the sunbathers, I wore sunglasses which, in addition to protecting my eyes from the bright sun, also afforded me the opportunity for some at least marginally unobtrusive "sightseeing" of my fellow sunbathers – an activity practiced with equal fervor by both sexes. And plenty of opportunities for sightseeing were present. My own preferences run toward the more mature women – not that I can't appreciate a trim 20-something body – but with age I have come to appreciate the more mature female form.

Today, like the two days before, I found my eyes being drawn repeatedly to a particular woman lounging on the opposite side of the small lagoon in the pool. She was medium height – maybe 5'5' or 5'6, toned, with runner's legs – lean and well-defined. Her short auburn hair framed the aquiline features of her face. In spite of the two children returning to her periodically, her body was none the worse for the wear – a flat, bronzed stomach (ok, not as flat as a childless 20 year-old – but flat in the relative sense of the term) exposed between the top and bottom of her leopard-print bikini. Her buttocks were things of beauty – rounded and firm, with a slight indentation that comes from proper care and exercise. The thought of running my hands over them was torture. Not overly large, her breasts were perky and appeared firm, I guessed maybe a 36B at most. All in all, a mature, sexy woman apparently in charge of her own life. The ring on her left hand signified (I assumed) the existence of a husband – missing in action – I had not seen him once in the three days we had been coming to the pool.

Although I was sure it was the sun or the margaritas (or both), it seemed as though today she might also be looking at me. Now I'm no male model, but I do take pride in my appearance, exercising regularly (running, swimming, lifting some minimal weights, etc.), eating right, etc. But I am not often the object of lustful stares from members of the opposite sex.

Today, however, appeared to be different. I had a feeling throughout the day that "something" was going to happen, but couldn't put my finger on it. Could this be it? Was I the object of alcohol and sun-induced tropical lust? As various scenarios worked their way through my brain, my aching penis was springing to life. In the interest of modesty I decided that a dip in the cool water of the pool was a wise idea. Rising quickly from my lounge chair I lowered myself into the chilled water. After a moment, I rotated around – wanting to appear as though I were nonchalantly taking in the sights, but at the same time intensely curious to see if I was still the object of "her" attention – and it appeared I was.

She smiled as I swung around to meet her gaze holding my gaze, rose up and slowly sauntered away – towards the restrooms. The slow, metronomic movements of her ass cheeks as she strolled away in her bikini held my gaze as I watched - mesmerized.

In addition to the standard men's and women's restrooms, the resort had a number of "family" restrooms to provide a place for parents with kids. I watched her walk up to one of the family restrooms, turn, look at me (of course I was watching – how could I not?) and motion me to her while one hand held the door open. Then she smiled and slipped inside.

I swallowed hard. Did I see what I thought I saw? Understand, that one of my fantasies has always been having just nasty, hard sex in a public restroom. I know some people want to do it outside – waiting to get caught, but I'm a little more reserved. I want at least a door between me and the world outside.

So I was left there thinking while the surf crashed against the beach, the breeze shook the palms and the steel drum music shifted into a Bob Marley tune – I'm a big fan, but was so preoccupied that I didn't have a clue as to what song. My mind racing, I decided that this was it – I better act now or just shut up and forget my fantasies.

So I slowly walked up the steps of the pool and made my way over to the restrooms, heart pounding, nerves at least momentarily quelling my any growth in my penis. I approached the door of the restroom she entered and tapped lightly – pretending I was just checking to see if it was occupied. Water dripped off my body as I heard, in a soft, but firm voice "Come in." What? I knocked again. "I said come in." She opened the door slightly, inviting me to enter.

I pulled the handle and slipped inside, closing the door. "You might want to lock it so we don't get any unexpected visitors," she said, her firm breasts moving ever so slightly - a bead of sweat running from between them down past her belly button and into the slight tuft of trimmed hair that remained where her bikini bottom had been (now hanging from hook on the wall).

I reached back, fumbling with the lock, heart pounding, mental images flashing through my head like a runaway slide show, the steel drum tapping out the tune to "One Love", the muted splashing and laughing of pool play, the faint surf sound slipping in – time seemed to have stopped.

As I turned back, our eyes met and then hers trailed down over my body slowly until she reached my trunks – now bulging with my straining member. Licking her lips she stepped forward, "I'll help you with those." Hooking her fingers under waistband she slowly slipped them down. My penis, freed from its restraint popped up, bobbing slightly in front of her face. She kissed it lightly and stood back up in front of me, sighing ever so slightly.

I reached out and ran my hands lightly over her tanned shoulders, my hands coming to rest on her hips. Our eyes transfixed we met, exploring each other's mouths, tongues probing, hands wildly stroking dampened skin. I directed her back onto a teak bench in the room, lowering her until she was seated. On my knees, I hungrily devoured her breasts, tasting the salty, chlorine-laced, cocoa butter skin like it was my first meal in a week. She moaned slightly, throwing her head back, her own hand falling to rub her vagina (in anticipation?), her fingers stroking the lips, pausing to tease her clit and then stroking again.

My own hands resting on her thighs I trailed my tongue down, down, down, ever so slowly – probing her navel – and then abruptly moving to a knee, trailing my tongue towards her hand that was now glistening with her own juices. Abruptly, I forced my face into her moistened lips, pushing her hand away and burying my face between her legs. Eagerly I licked and sucked and gently ate, drinking in her moist fluids and breathing her scent. Alternating between furious and tender, teasing and insistent, I continued, focusing only on her pleasure. My hands cupping her buttocks (ecstacy!), stroking her skin while my lips and tongues played in and over her now engorged vagina – opening for me like a blossoming flower. Her breathing became more ragged, her hands clenched and unclenched on my shoulders, "I'm - cumming" she whispered, in short tight bursts. And then it happened, her juices spurting out, my tongue eagerly lapping them up and her hands forcing my face deeper and deeper into her – my chin pressing against her puckered anus.

Slowly she relaxed, long breaths, her hands trailing over my head and shoulders, she pulled me toward her, tasting her own orgasm on my lips…

As we leaned back to look into each other's eyes, she reached down and firmly encircled my rigid penis in her hand, wiping her index finger over the tip to gather up the oozing precum dripping from it. Raising the precum-coated finger, she was heading to her own lips when she changed course, wiping it over my lips – "What is she…" my mind racing, she pulled me toward her and we kissed – adding the salty, slippery taste to the potpourri of cocoa butter and chlorine flavors already there. And then she whispered in my ear, nibbling and probing with her tongue – "I, I n-n-need you to fuck me – hard!"

Standing up – she waved her ass in front of my face and pulled one cheek back, giving me a perfect view of her swollen, dripping pussy – I couldn't resist one last mouthful as she ground her ass back towards my face.

Rising up, I brought the swollen head of my penis to her own engorged lips and tapped lightly – causing her to again push backwards – "Not so fast – I want to savor this," I whispered. And then I entered slowly – slipping and sliding in the copious lubrication of her own juices until I was buried deep inside her, my hips crushed against her ass, my hands on her hips. Slowly, we rotated in unison, feeling my penis moving ever so slightly deep inside her.

She reached back and cupped my balls in her hand, caressing them tenderly and then sliding up to the junction of our swollen genitalia – encircling my penis as I pulled it out slowly, now coated with her own lubrication. Abruptly, I shoved forward, slamming my hips into her cheeks, watching them shake slightly before pulling out again and slamming and pulling out and slamming and pulling out and slamming… my hands controlling her hips – forcing her back and forth on my rigid penis…and then we slowed, again savoring the slow motion – feeling each nerve tingle as her swollen lips engulfed my penis and then released it.

I noticed her reaching down to grasp one of those green bottles of aloe vera gel – you know, the green goo that soothes a sunburn. Deftly, she flipped the top open and brought it back – squeezing a generous amount on her anus before setting the bottle back on the bench.

As I thrust my rigid penis into her wet warm pussy and drew it back in a smooth rhythm, she brought her hand back and started to spread the aloe vera over her puckered anus, rimming the edges with her index finger in a, to me, mesmerizing circular motion – stopping occasionally to press directly on her bud before resuming the hypnotic circular motion around and around and around and then, as if on cue with my thrusting, she plunged a finger into her anus and pulled it back out. She repeated her own thrusting and then asked, in a ragged voice, "M-m-more lubrica-tion, please." Happily, I complied, bringing the battle up with one hand and dousing her now reciprocating finger in a stream of aloe vera.

Setting the bottle down, I began to drive my penis deep into her, as the aloe vera ran down our thighs – her own finger – wait her own fingers, plunged in and out of her own anus in sympathetic rhythm with my own motion. Our rhythms established and made audible by the "thwack, thwack, thwack" sound generated as our bodies collided with each thrust we could feel the rise of tension – as hormones surged – I could feel her vagina blossoming again, opening to receive my now red, swollen penis, my hands clamped on her hips, slamming her over my member as she slammed her own fingers in and out of her anus.

As my penis swelled with the coming orgasm, I could feel the hot ejaculate flowing from my prostrate, through my penis, where it shot deep into her loins as I held her ass against mine. The hot liquid triggering her own orgasm as she jammed her finger into her anus and whimpered - her vagina clenched over my shaft - her knees buckling as she gave way to the ecstasy washing through her body.

And then it was silent in the room again – the sounds of the pool and beach again filtering into our consciousness' – voices as people walked by on their way to lunch or their rooms, us reveling in the feeling of intermingled bodies – no clear boundaries where one began and the other ended – connected on a animal level.

As she caught her breath, she reached back and squeezed my balls as if to milk the last drop of my essence from me before standing up and turning around, her arms encircling me- squeezing my buttocks while her mouth played over my shoulder and neck. Now I am normally good for one shot every 2-3 hours, but the events of the previous 20 minutes had obviously worked some magic with my hormones as I felt my penis coming back to life, dripping our mingled fluids.

With a deft spin she had maneuvered us so that the back of my calves were pressed against the teak bench. Pushing down on my hips to urge me to sit – she knelt before me – her hands playing lightly over my thighs – sliding up between my legs where she stroked my scrotum while watching my penis bob upward with each beat of my heart, blood rushing in to firm up the rapidly stiffening member.

Looking up into my eyes, "It's your turn to relax now" she said as she lowered lips over the head of my penis, wrapping then around the base of the head, while her tongue wiped the head clean – tasting our mingled fluids. And slowly she lowered her lips – sliding them down until my penis was encased in the warm, wet, pulsating cocoon of her mouth, her tongue stroking the sensitive underside of my now rock-like member. She held me in her mouth for only a few seconds – although it seemed like an eternity and then slowly raised her head, before bobbing downward again – her pace quickened as her hair fell over her shoulders. She deftly reached back and threw it over one shoulder – giving me a clear view of her lips stroking my penis.

As I floated into the bliss of a truly excellent blow job, she pulled my buttocks forward until I was seated on the very edge bench. Abruptly she removed her head from my dick and looked up at me. "Put your feet up on the bench." Unsure of why, I complied – only hoping that her lips would soon be wrapped around my penis again.

My feet up on the bench, she dropped to the task at hand, attacking my now swollen member with a zeal seen only in a porno film (or so I thought). I closed my eyes, savoring the sensations. I didn't hear or see her reach again for the aloe vera, but she must have, because my mind snapped open when I felt the cool gooey stuff as she spread it lightly over my anus.

I looked down to see her staring back at me as she continued stroking my shaft with her lips, eyebrow raised in a questioning look. She slowly traced circles about my own rosebud in a not unfamiliar pattern. As I gave a low guttural moan of pleasure – all sensory systems on alert, she pressed slowly inward, past the first sphincter, pausing while I relaxed and then past the inner ring, until her finger was buried in my ass.

Now I'm not gay, have no desires to be with a man, and am a 100% male kind of guy, but as her lips stroked me and her finger probed my ass, I was awash in a sea of good sensations. She withdrew her finger and circled again, until this time I felt what must be two fingers enter me, probing until they found my prostrate. As her lips massaged my penis and her fingers stroked my prostate, I could feel the forces building. And still she kept going and still I kept building, my pulse racing, the warm sensation of a mind-expanding orgasm spreading through my body – until the heat of my ejaculate pulsing through my penis, the engorged head signaling the eruption – drove her on with a fury, her fingers ramming in and out of my now compliant anus, her head a frenzy of motion over my penis. I exploded, literally, prostate-massaged cum flying out of my penis, my sphincter muscles clamping her fingers in a vise-like grip – "Urghhhhh" I moaned as the pleasure rolled through my synapses like a tsunami of pleasure.

And like before, the sounds of the pool and the beach again filtered in to the room – her lips popping off the end of my exquisitely sensitive penis and coming up to meet my own lips – tasting the warm saltiness of my own cum in her soft mouth. We held still for a moment or two before saying anything. "That was unbelievable!" I said. She smiled. I thought you might like it after I showed you how good it felt to me," she responded, slowly standing up to wash her hands – using the damp paper towels to wipe her face and between her legs, where our fluids had congealed. Wetting another set of towels, she proceeded to wipe my legs and then my now quiescent penis – spent after a mind-numbing orgasm. Reaching back to wipe the extra aloe vera from between my buttocks, she noticed my flinch slightly. "You did like it, didn't you? I could tell."

"Yeah – as surprised as I was that you were doing it – I did like it – it's kind of been a secret fantasy of mine – to have a woman massage my prostate while giving me a blow job." I smiled. "Now I'll have to find another one."

"Well, the week's not over yet – is it? Let's relax and see what tomorrow might bring – okay?" she said as she put on her bikini – adjusting the straps.

"That works for me," I replied. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Until then, think about your desires, your fantasies, your dreams in the middle of the afternoon and we can compare notes." With that, she grabbed the door handle and turned back, "Give me a minute or two before you leave, ok?"

"Sure – no problem – my pleasure, but I'll probably have to sit in the pool to avoid 'arousing' any suspicion."

She laughed softly and opened the door – slipping into the bright sunlight of a Bahamian afternoon while I locked the door behind her and sat on the bench…

The End.

All constructive responses and comments welcome…