Cheryl woke as her body demanded - or didn't demand - late by Dayton standards, early by those expected on a vacation. She felt no need to get up and so she lazed. Her thoughts, of course, went to her expeditions of the previous day, the pleasant smile and girth of Wes, the flop that was Ted. She didn't regret her decision with the ineffective late night encounter, she was realistic that some men simply aren't competent. And the realization she'd had, for the first time in her life, two different men in the space of a day pleased her. But Wes! Oh, she'd give a shiny quarter if he'd knock on her door now to wake her properly.
She reached into the drawer beside the bed, grabbed a toy. Her hands stroked the tender skin below her navel, a finger inserted itself into the canal, already moist with her thoughts, and then she buried the dildo deeply. With one hand she set up a languid motion of the plastic, with the other she brought the clitoris to attention. And her imagination was filled with visions of a man, perhaps Wes, perhaps another, kissing her, feeling her body, inserting himself. And then the fantasy morphed, it was the petite blond Alexis who was kissing her, feeling her, and Cheryl suddenly desired to know what a woman felt like, tasted like. It wasn't a new illusion, she'd had a slight desire for such a struggle for decades, but of course she'd never sought it out, an opportunity had never asserted itself. And then the shuddering shocked her, she let her mind go blank as she trembled in the felicity. She could have gone on, but after a few moments she put her joy aside, realizing if she roused herself other experiences might be proffered, and she was anxious to meet them.
She lingered in the shower, enjoying the suds on her skin, took time to ensure her face was impeccable, her hair well coiffed. And she considered her clothing options. She decided to make herself ready for water sports, donned a bikini, a mesh coverup, sandals, and after checking a last time in the mirror and adjusting one or two imagined flaws, headed for breakfast.
As she stood in the buffet line she noticed a number of men glancing at her, then look again, and she felt happy she was attracting attention. One gentleman peeped at her time and again and she tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't return her stare. His loss! As she sat to consume her fruits, a solitary egg, she thought the men seemed interested, some of the women a bit hostile. She headed for the pool, the sun just past half high, and Cheryl found a lounge chair in the shade, began to slather herself with SPF-30. Not five minutes had passed when she heard her voice being called.
"Well, good morning you two," she replied to Pat and Wes, who seemed to be hurrying on a mission. Wes wore baggy swim trunks, Pat had side tie bikini bottoms, her bare breasts swung as she walked. "What are you up to?"
"We're going sailing," Wes explained, "there's a marvelous reef a little outside the bay, we'll snorkel there."
"Is it safe?" Cheryl wondered.
"Wes is an old sailor," Pat said, "We've never had a problem. Would you like to come with us?"
Cheryl had no reason to say no, the couple seemed genuine in their invitation. She followed them to the water sports area, let them help her choose a snorkel and fins and after the catamaran was launched she reclined beside Pat as Wes took charge. To starboard, a sand spit slipped by. "That's Passionné Island, isn't it?"
"Yes, you haven't been there yet?"
"It's only my second day," she reminded the couple. Cheryl recalled the tales she'd read on-line of the debaucheries that supposedly occurred there. At this hour of the morning, only one couple walked the beach of the atoll, both free of any clothing. After broaching the headland, the water became choppy, Cheryl slipped on the deck. Pat caught at her, although it wasn't necessary, there was no chance Cheryl would have fallen off the craft. Still, there was a bit of a moment when Pat's arm crossed Cheryl's belly.
Just a few minutes later a very small cove was entered, just a meager beach, Wes ran the boat up on to it, tied a rope to a palm tree to ensure it wouldn't drift off.
"Have you snorkeled before?" Pat asked.
"It's been awhile."
"We'll keep together." They slipped on face masks and fins, Cheryl took a few moments to familiarize herself with the breathing tube, paddled out until she was in waist deep water, put her face down. The techniques came back to her, in no time at all she was in eight foot of water, Wes on one side, Pat on the other.
Below them was sand, a bit off was a small reef, dozens of fish swam below them. Orange, green, purple, yellow, blue. Wes dived, stirring them into a ruckus, it was fun. Pat seemed to be paying more attention to Cheryl than was especially necessary. She'd find a hand on her leg or arm, it was pleasant, knowing Pat was concerned.
Cheryl momentarily gazed at Pat's ample breasts fluttering in the water, appreciated how charming they were. 'Why am I still wearing this stupid bikini top?' she wondered. Wes pointed to a shadow thirty feet away, Pat saw a five foot long denizen, she was certain it was some kind of shark, became a little worried. But Pat and Wes weren't concerned, simply swam in another direction.
After half an hour Cheryl realized she was beginning to tire, motioned to the pair she was heading for the shore. Pat followed her, Wes seemed to want more exercise. When they got to the sand they spread towels in the shade of palm trees. "Oh, those fish are beautiful," Cheryl gushed.
"Aren't they? We just love coming out here. We've never seen anyone else." Pat reached over, cordially brushed a strand of wet hair from Cheryl's face. "Speaking of beautiful, you know you are, aren't you?" Cheryl suddenly blushed, a bit abashed by the compliment. "I really see now why Wes was so attracted to you yesterday."
Cheryl turned on her side, facing the other woman. "You really don't mind I slept with him, do you?"
"I've learned not to be jealous. When we first got into this, I had some hard times, watching him with other women. Of course at the same time, I was letting other men have at me; that never seemed to bother Wes. Eventually, I got over it."
