By the time we got to Cancun, I was getting hung over again. I wasn’t functioning too well when we deplaned, so I was happy that the hotel had sent a car to pick us up. It was a wild ride to the southern end of the island and we were both glad to arrive at the gated compound. Unlike most of the hotels on the island, El Sol de Maya was a modest sized hotel. Screened from road by flowering hedges and set in a large coconut grove, the main building was a modest three-story structure. Off to one side was a village of grass-thatched huts.
The lobby was very tropical, with an atrium, banana trees, waterfalls, and wicker furniture. I introduced myself to the desk clerk, a tall Mexican wearing an open floral shirt and shorts, with my most pathetic Spanish. He smiled and in perfect English welcomed us. I was doing the mundane task of checking in when Vanessa gasped, “Oh, my god!”
“What?”
She gestured for me to look at a middle-aged couple who were walking through the lobby completely nude. She hastily whispered, “You didn’t tell me that this was a nudist colony!”
“It’s not a nudist colony,” I calmly replied. “It’s an adults and couples only, clothing optional resort.”
“David!”
“Relax, you don’t have to go naked. Clothing is optional. The operative word is optional. You can wear what you like.”
“Oh my god! We can’t stay here!”
“There’s really no choice. I already paid in advance to get a good rate and I can’t afford another place.”
“You should have told me, David Allen!”
“So you could veto it? Relax. We don’t know anyone here and no one knows who we are. This will be fun, I promise you.” I reached out and stroked her breast in front of the desk clerk.
“Senor, please!” said the suddenly huffy clerk. “The rules of the club are that no touching in public is allowed! That applies to your wife as well as other guests here.” He handed me a brochure, “Please Senor, take a moment and read our rules. Abide by them or you will be asked to leave.” It was my turn to be embarrassed.
A bellhop, dressed much like the desk clerk, took our three suitcases and led us to our suite on the third floor. The suite was nice, very nice. It had a sitting room, bedroom, bath and a baloney overlooking the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. The bath was huge, with toilet and bidet, a large walk-in shower, and a Jacuzzi tub. Out on the balcony was a large hot tub. The sitting room was nicely furnished with a sofa, a stuffed chair and double ottoman plus a pub table with two chairs. The bedroom contained a king size canopy bed. I lay down for a moment and looked up at myself in the mirrored canopy. Yeah, this was going to be fun!
Vanessa started unpacking so as to minimize the wrinkles in her numerous outfits while I read the rules. No stroking or touching in a sexual manner in pubic. No public demonstrations of affection. Wear or don’t wear what you want, where and when you want, but please carry a towel to sit on and use lots of sunscreen. After that it was mute, except for extolling the health benefits of a naturalist lifestyle. Apparently my playful jest downstairs violated the only real rule that they had.
There was a knock on the door. I answered.
“Buenos tardes, Senor Allen,” said the pretty girl, bare breasted and bare foot, wearing only a sarong around her waist. She was bearing a bottle of cold champagne, a basket of fruit, and another basket with ‘supplies’. As she walked in, Vanessa and I looked at each other. My gaze went back to the brown skinned girl. She placed the champagne and fruit basket on the pub table and then she took the second basket and placed on it the bed stand. She then walked up to me and smiled sweetly. I just gawked at her tits.
Vanessa mocked, “She’s waiting for a tip, honey.”
“Oh, yeah.” I fumbled around and gave her a five.
“If you need anything else, please call the front desk and ask for Maria.” She winked, turned and left the suite.
“What kind of place did you bring me too?” asked Vanessa with a hint of disgust. “Do you expect me to parade around naked so every one can look at me David?”
“No, honey. Wear what you want.”
“What if I did parade around naked and showed off my tits?”
“Well, it would be okay.”
“Okay?”
“Well, yes. Look sweetheart, wear what you want. I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”
“Really? I’m fully dressed and I’m already embarrassed. You like looking at that girl’s tits?”
“Well, I…Look, let’s not argue about what other people do or don’t do. I thought that this would be an incredibly sexy place for us to go to. You aren’t offended seeing someone naked are you?”
She frowned. “No, I guess not, but if you expect me…”
“Optional! The key word is optional.”
I went to see what was in the basket by the bed. There was an assortment of sunscreens, flavored lotions, body oils, body paints, lubricants and a dozen mixed condoms of various styles including a few that were flavored.
“Hey, you want to try out the banana flavored rubber?” I joked as I held out a foil packet toward my new wife.
“We’ve never used condoms and we’re not starting on our honeymoon! What else is in there?” We looked through the basket and decided that we had to try the chocolate body paints later in the evening.
I shed my slacks, shirt and shoes as well as my red bikini briefs and strolled out to the balcony. It was dusk, but still quite hot and humid. I tested the water in the hot tub and was glad to find it tepid. Waving for V to join me, I stepped in. The soak in the cool, foaming water was very relaxing. Looking out into the fading light, we watched as the staff lit numerous tiki lamps around the grounds. There were several people, gathering up their belongings on the beach and several people swimming in the pool. As best I could tell, only the staff wore any clothing at all.
We smooched and playfully fooled around for nearly an hour. I was starting to feel a little better; in fact I was becoming ravenously hungry. “Let’s go get something to eat,” I suggested pulling my head from her breasts.
“How about if you just eat me?” she playfully bantered as she gently grabbed my balls.
“How about if I eat your ass later, for desert?”
“Okay by me,” she quipped back.
We walked dripping wet, into the bath and showered off. I soaped up her butt and wormed a finger into her hole. She didn’t fight me at all. I was glad to see that my cock was getting hard as I was worried that my hangover would have adverse effect on my nuptial performance. I backed her into a corner, squatted slightly and directed my cock to her pussy. I had a difficult time gaining entrance, as the water was not providing adequate lubrication. Nonetheless I worked my cock into her and as I began fucking her, adequate lubrication was naturally provided. As I fucked her, I worked my finger into her ass to the palm of my hand. We fucked for ten minutes or so under the steady flow of hot water. Through experience with her, I felt her orgasm building. I worked feverishly, thrusting and grinding my cock in her, working myself to the point of no return. I couldn’t have planned it better. Her pussy started contracting and she emitted a loud groan. My cock exploded, filling my bride’s cunt with it’s first church sanctioned load of sperm. I let my cock deflate in her clasping cunt until it slipped out.
I withdrew my finger from her butt, soaped up her ass crack again and washed us both squeaky clean. After the shower I was ready to go. Vanessa had other ideas.
“I can’t go downstairs like this,” she protested. “I have to dry my hair, put on makeup and get dressed.”
“You’re already dressed,” I observed.
“I’m not about to go down stairs nude. Forget it!”
“Okay, okay.”
She spent the next forty minutes or so drying and curling her hair, before taking another fifteen minutes to put on makeup. Finally she was ready, well almost. She held up a half a dozen dresses for my approval before settling on a light blue sundress with a white palm-tree print. She slipped on a pair of white high-heeled sandals, and then selected shell earrings and a shell necklace. Finally she was ready. She looked at me.
“Well, get dressed!”
“I am dressed.”
“No you don’t! Not with me in the restaurant! Now if you want room service, stay as you are, but I’ve gone to a lot of trouble…”
“Okay, okay!” I put on a pair of cargo shorts, a flowery shirt and sandals. Within a minute I was ready.
We made our way into the restaurant. The restaurant opened out onto the patio and we were seated outside. A band was playing Reggae-Carib music. We looked around. We were definitely over dressed. Few of the ladies were totally nude, some wore thong bikini bottoms, some wore a full wrap sarong, while others wore a sarong around the waist like the room service girl. The men were more casual, with few bothering to even put on a G-string or a thong. Couples danced, some ate, some chatted and drank with friends. All gave us a quick glance and politely went about their business.
We ordered dinner, fresh barracuda steaks grilled and served with rice and julianned vegetables. I opted for bottled water. We sipped our Perrier and tried not to stare. Occasionally someone would look our way and smile.
The dinner was delicious. I didn’t know you could eat barracuda or that it was actually very good. My hunger was satiated and sat back to watch the various dancers. The people were of different ages ranging from the late twenties to late fifties, with an equally wide range of body types and degrees of fitness. I noted that the no-touching rule didn’t seem to apply to dancing, as the couples bumped and rubbed up against each other. Still, other than the occasional hand on a bare butt, I didn’t see any outward sexual play.
Vanessa hurriedly finished her meal and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you want to dance V?”
“No!”
I signaled our waiter, a thin short kid, dressed like the desk clerk and bellhop, bare foot wearing an open shirt and shorts, just like all the other male staff. He brought the check and I signed off on it. As we left the restaurant, all eyes were on us.
Actually I was glad to leave. I was exhausted and so was Vanessa. We brushed our teeth, shed our clothes and got into the bed. Next thing I knew, the rising sun was streaming through the window, glittering off the blue sea. I had to pee, so I rolled out bed to relieve myself. When I returned, I pounced on V for a good morning fuck. It was really neat when I rolled us over with her on top and watched her fuck me in the overhead mirrors. I liked that a lot.
We weren’t in a big hurry that morning, preferring to lie about, nibbling on each other and other such things. I called down for room service to bring us breakfast. I was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room, enjoying my wife’s oral ministrations when a bare breasted room service chick opened the door without knocking, rolling in a cart with our breakfast. Surprised at the sudden and unannounced intrusion, V gasped and tried to cover herself with her hands. The girl, maybe twenty, looked at V kneeling and blushing before me and smiled knowingly. She then picked up a glass of OJ, rubbed her nipple along the rim and handed it to me. The blood in my hard dick surged, swelling my alert pecker even it more until it almost hurt. I stood up and then walked back into the bedroom to retrieve a five-dollar bill for the tip. Handing the Lincoln to the girl, she gave me a disappointed look. I realized then that she was expecting much more for her visit.
“Uh, thank you. That will be all,” I managed to say with the half naked girl hungrily studying my still erect member.
“Gracias, Senor. Perhaps you will need me later. My name is Angelina.” The pretty girl, disappointed, left the room.
“I think she was propositioning us,” said V incredulously. “You should have seen the come on looks she was giving me when you went to get the tip. Surely you noticed how she was looking at you.”
I decided my best course of action would be to play dumb. “You really think so?” I asked innocently.
