My Big Mistae

By Dawn Ramble

A continuation of a memory of Saint Martin and what might or might not have happened there years ago. All characters are over eighteen. Please read Part 1 first to know the characters and situation.

Part 2

Wednesday

When I woke up, once again I was thinking of Joan. I realized that her only involvement last night had been in bringing me off. I wondered how frustrated she was by the time we all went to bed. Had she lain there masturbating? Maybe she needed more explicit permission to have sex with him. Of course, she had washed his penis in the shower and given him a blowjob without any prompting from me. But then I remembered the unfinished sex I had interrupted, and how proprietorial my reaction to that had been. Maybe I was the one who wasn't ready for this.

I looked at the clock, it was five past seven and George was up. I wondered if he had already showered and went to see. Joan's door was ajar, and I saw George and I realized he was just about to fuck her. They were not aware of me, and I held my breath, she handed him some lube and rolled on to her knees and presented her bum to him. He applied lube to her butthole and lubed his index finger and slid it into her. I watched as he moved it around and then withdrew it. He wiped it on a tissue, rose on his knees and applied lube to his very stiff cock. Was he really going to? I had never consented to anal, but it looked as if Joan was encouraging him as she too was working her lube covered fingers in there.

I watched as he slowly inserted his stiff cock, and they began to move. I was both disgusted and very turned on. This was way outside my comfort zone.

Stepping quietly away I went into the bathroom and closed the door more loudly than I needed to. I turned on the shower and began to wash. As I thought about them, I rubbed my clit and then I inserted a soapy finger into my butt. I'd always thought anal sex was dirty, although some of my close friends said they loved it, even preferred it to vaginal sex. Maybe I should get a dildo just to try it. Right now, my toys were all in the bedroom and I was soaking wet. I wasn't going to go looking for one or even leave the bathroom, until I hoped they would have finished.

I had not locked the bathroom door and the two of them came cheerfully into the room and the shower saying a bright, "Good Morning!" I held the obvious comeback in my mouth unuttered and said "Good morning" with a smile on my face. I was getting an education, even if it was outside my comfort zone. When I left them, George was washing his penis intently, and for the first time I hoped none of us had STDs.

No time to worry right now. It was a quarter to eight. We needed some breakfast and we had to be at the beach by Papagayo for nine for the nude cruise. However, I still found myself thinking about it as we met the others and stood waiting on the beach. It appeared we were the last to arrive although it was still only ten to nine.

Apart from our group from yesterday there were two other couples, Dan and Françoise from Canada and Klaus and Hannah from Germany. A third couple had apparently cancelled. Both couples had had breakfast at Papagayo and had already met up. I would have said they were all in their fifties but looked to be in good shape. Everyone was already naked except for Wendy who was wearing a dark purple thong, even flimsier than the one she wore yesterday.

George paid for the three of us and a crew member arrived in a zodiac to pick up everyone's bags and transport us to the yacht. It took a couple of trips to take us all. Once on board another crew member brought us orange juice or something stronger. I was OK with the juice, but I noticed the majority went for rum punches, even though it was barely nine thirty. One of the couples sat in the rear but the rest of us went to sit on our towels at the front.

I said 'yacht' but more precisely Tiko Tiko is a two-hulled catamaran with netting between the two hulls at the front. Somewhere along the way Wendy had lost the thong and for the first time, I had a frontal view of her. She had a nicely trimmed bush that covered her mons. More than the landing strip that most of us were sporting. It was thick enough to provide the illusion of full coverage, but in fact I could see her prominent outer lips clearly enough when she let her legs, part for just a moment.

In keeping with her whole demeanor this did not happen often. As I have said I don't spread my legs the way Joan does either. We did not talk much as we made the thirty-minute trip to Tintamarre. We had all made brief introductions on the beach and implicitly knew we would have plenty of time to get better acquainted. There was a rolling swell as we left the shelter of the lagoon and some people looked a little apprehensive, but everyone weathered the journey without mishap.

We anchored twenty yards from the shore in about twenty feet of water and we were informed about the best areas to snorkel. Some people immediately took the time to put on snorkels, masks, and fins but most of us just swam to the shore. Float-pads were offered to anyone who wanted them but only three people did. It appeared half of the passengers had, like us, been at least once before, but Joan, the boys, and the German couple had not.

The crew quickly established umbrellas and more float-pads for us to lie on. Coolers filled with water, beer, and a couple of different punches followed. The Canadian couple obviously worked out and had brought their own snorkeling equipment, as had George and I. They were already in the water with just their snorkels showing as was Wendy. The Germans seemed less interested in snorkeling and were quite comfortable just swimming.

George and Joan joined the boys in having another drink, but I stuck to water and concentrated on putting on plenty of sunscreen. I called George over and made sure he was adequately covered, and he helped Joan. It turned out the boys were snorkeling novices, so I gave them advice. I didn't know if they were seriously interested or just wanted to follow Wendy, but they did listen to me, and soon we were all swimming toward the rocks where the interesting things are to be found.

Time passes quite quickly when you are snorkeling. I looked back at the beach at one point and George and Joan were talking with the German couple. Sometime later I noticed peacocks, which I gather often make an appearance, had come out and those on the beach had got up to take photos. When I next looked, George and Joan were nowhere to be seen. The beach is quite long but not very deep. At the end where we were there is a wall of rock that extends into the sea. Most of the length of the beach is bounded by sea grape and scrub.

The boys stayed close to me and kept asking me about different things. I don't really know the names of the fish that come in a wide range of sizes, shapes, and colors, but to their delight I was able to point out both a ray and an octopus. I was ready to go in when the crew rang the bell to tell us that lunch was ready.

We swam straight to the boat, and I saw that those who were on the beach were swimming out to join us: George and Joan among them. We spread dry towels on the banquettes in the rear of the boat which was sheltered by a striped canvas cover. We fitted quite snuggly together and there was some laughter as hips and thighs jostled to find room together. The Germans were at one end, then Wendy and the Canadian man and his wife. Next came George and Parker and then Joan and Bill, and I was on the other end. Just as well that other couple had cancelled, I thought, or we really would have been packed like sardines.

Before I sat down, I pulled a light cotton collared shirt out of my bag as I was not fully covered by the canvas shade. We started with Waldorf salad or an approximation thereof; followed by fish, chicken, or steak. Yesterday Joan had taken it upon herself to order two of each as she said she did not care, and if we really had a problem we should go back and alter it. After a brief conversation we had all decided we were good.

There was plenty of loud conversation from one end of the table to the other. We were served champagne, followed by our choice of red or white wine. People were asking each other where they came from and what they did, and whether their friends or, in the case of the older couples, their kids, would be surprised to see them on a nude cruise. The answers varied as we laughed as we shared our nude experiences. People also talked about what they had seen snorkeling or the peacocks or their favorite restaurants.

At some point I became aware that Bill's hand was resting on my thigh, but I chose to ignore it. As it was below the level of the table, I doubted anyone else could see and the feeling was not unpleasant. He raised his hand and placed it on my hand resting on the table and somehow guided my hand off the table and on to his thigh.

I was consumed by the implied naughtiness and casually moved my hand over until my fingers touched his very firm erection. His hand had returned to my thigh and crept between my legs, and I parted them slightly to give him access. I could not believe I was doing this, it was so out of character, but it was such a turn-on with everyone cheerfully chatting away in ignorance.

The meal concluded with a serving of fruit tart and cognac for those who wanted it. I had not noticed that Wendy had left until I saw her come from the little toilet in the cabin. She slipped under the table and resurfaced in her seat between Klaus and Dan and said something to Françoise who laughed in return.

Nobody was paying the least attention to our end of the table as George was recounting one of his amusing stories that I had heard several times before. I was incredibly aroused; nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I glanced at Bill, and he seemed to be paying rapt attention to George and the story. As his fingers played with me, I slowly closed my hand round his erection and gently moved it up and down. I could literally feel him trembling beside me and hoped he wouldn't lose control. I stopped my movement but still held on to him.

At that moment I became aware of the point George had reached in his narrative and I interjected a comment which made everyone laugh and momentarily take notice of me, but they had no idea what Bill and I were doing. But then people were beginning to get up and Bill and I both withdrew our hands. I stood up but Bill started talking animatedly to Joan as an excuse to stay seated while matters arranged themselves.

Luckily for him, Parker was still talking to George as the others exited from the other end of the bench. I moved away and stood for a moment on the deck, I found myself beside Wendy, who nudged me and winked. She pointed at the side and we both dived off the boat and swam for the shore. As we swam, she said, "I saw you and...Bill, that's right, Bill,"

I felt the heat rise in my face but kept swimming.

"I always like to see what's happening under the table, so much more interesting than the conversations. Sitting next to them I sensed Dan and Françoise were doing something, but they stopped when I slipped under to go to the toilet. But you, I was surprised. I thought you were very protective of your husband and a bit... how you say, uptight. Oh, là là!"

We reached the beach and walked up to the umbrellas.

"You're right I am...uptight. Well, normally, but when Bill started it, it just seemed like fun. I've never done anything like that before."

"Don't worry, I won't tell, but I think that means George is...shall I say...in play?"

"I guess," I admitted, "but only play, not a relationship." Here I was giving another woman permission to have sex with my husband. Lucky George!

"Was I ready to have sex with another man? After what happened I did not doubt Bill would be willing and ready, but was I?" My thoughts weren't coherent, but my heart was racing.

The rest of the party had now arrived on the beach, mostly swimming, although Joan and Hannah arrived in the zodiac along with some fresh ice for the coolers. Someone suggested a group photo; there was a comment of "no internet posting" that got universal consent and we all lined up. Although like most nude beaches there is no photography permitted on the nude section of Orient Beach, here phones and cameras appeared from every bag.

Klaus got us lined up and took a couple of photos, then he took a place in the line as Joan took some. Dan was next to take a photo. I looked at George as I had my phone out and he nodded. As I looked at the men, I found myself comparing their cocks. Klaus was a big man with quite a paunch and his penis seemed small despite the fact he was fully shaven. Dan's was nestled in an abundance of pubic hair but looked more normal, between three and four inches.

Everyone had their hands around each other and I noticed Wendy was holding George close. His penis was bigger but that was its normal size I thought. I didn't think Wendy was having much effect on him, or at least not on his cock, although she was standing beside him. Bill's cock was thicker and longer. Was he still aroused from earlier? It did not seem likely as it must have been twenty minutes since he had swum from the boat. Last came Patrick and his was perhaps five or more inches, bigger than either Bill or George, maintaining the popular belief that black men were often bigger. I don't mean those monsters George and I have occasionally watched on porn movies. They don't really turn me on and unless I have had a bit to drink, they are just scary.

These I assumed were more or less flaccid, so I had no idea of what they might look like erect. I know George is nearly six and a half inches, I've measured it, and from feel alone I guessed Bill was at least that much; Patrick and the others, who knew? They say, "after black you never look back," but I haven't been there. I noticed that Françoise, the Canadian woman, was holding Patrick quite close. In her fifties she was still a very good-looking woman who clearly kept herself in shape. Lucky Dan!

As I explained earlier after a late start, I had probably had a rather normal number of relationships before meeting George in my mid-twenties. Two that got quite serious for a time and three or four that were little more than one-night stands, possibly a weekend or two. Well, I guess five in that category because I remember them all, not that all were memorable. When you have had so few it's easy to keep track. Apart from the time with Joan and the ski instructors they were all pretty vanilla sex, although some were very satisfying, and let's face it, vanilla sex is my comfort zone.

After the photos someone asked about a mud bath, but it appeared they did not do those anymore, although I wasn't quite clear why. We had enjoyed one the first time we had taken the cruise. I looked around; Bill, Patrick, George, and Wendy had gone back to snorkeling. Joan was having a drink with the German couple. I sat down and chatted with Canadians. It turned out they weren't a couple. She was a teacher and laughed about how embarrassing it would be if her student got pics on the internet of her naked.

I wasn't sure that would be the worst of her troubles when after another punch she admitted they were both married just not to each other. She had met him at a life drawing class at a local high school and over coffee they had talked about the freedom and beauty of the naked figure. He told her about Saint Martin and here they were with neither of their spouses being any the wiser. I gathered that in the planning nothing explicit had been said. They had their own rooms in the same hotel, but neither had been in doubt as to where it was heading.

Dan was listening but didn't say much until he said, "We both have families we love but we had to get this out of our systems." Françoise agreed, "In four more days, we'll fly home and resume our lives. Nobody needs to know." As we were talking, I saw Wendy and George putting on cross-trainers. They headed off the beach. Yesterday I had told our group to be sure to bring running shoes or hikers with them if they wanted to explore as I remembered that once you passed behind the sea-grape curtain the ground was covered in scratchy undergrowth. I guessed they were going exploring.

At that moment, a dripping wet Bill arrived beside me.

"I thought you would come snorkeling," he said. It sounded like an accusation.

"No just digesting my lunch, but if you'd like to come for a walk and explore the island..." I let the sentence hang unfinished.

"Sure," he said.

"Dry off, and we'll put on some shirts, we've both had enough sun for now. And you need to put on some shoes; it's prickly back there." In five minutes, we were ready to set off. I looked around and saw Joan was still talking to the Germans and Patrick was approaching the Canadians.

I wasn't really sure if it was a walk I wanted, or to find where George and Wendy had gone, or something else entirely. We picked our way carefully through the spiky undergrowth for maybe fifteen minutes until we came to another line of sea-grape which I knew hid a very narrow strip of beach on the right-hand side of the island. I peeked through and saw some movement a little further up the beach. I put my finger to my lips, and we moved twenty feet further up the nearside of the sea-grape.

When I looked through again, we were much closer. I signaled Bill to be quiet as I beckoned him through to the sand keeping low. I heard his inhalation as he saw what I saw. We lay on our stomachs and watched George's slow but rhythmic thrusts in silence, Wendy's hips started to rise to meet each thrust as she stifled her obvious desire to vocalize.

It was like a beautiful ballet, and I felt Bill move his body on to my back and the stiffness of his penis on my spine. As I watched I spread my legs and felt him enter me from behind as he rested his head on my shoulder. I hadn't even thought about it; it was just my body's natural response to the feeI of his body on mine. I was wet enough for him to easily slide into my vagina, and I stifled a groan as he hit my cervix.

He didn't really move at first but as the action in front of us became more vigorous his action did too, but it wasn't hitting quite the right spot. I stopped watching, pulled off him and rolled over spreading my legs to embrace him in the classic missionary position. He started thrusting deeper and I was moving too. We tried to keep it silent as the sounds of completion, now behind my back, grew louder.

"Épatant!" Wendy exclaimed, "tu es une merveille!"

"Hmmf!" was George's less articulate but equally satisfied reply.

Bill smiled as he felt my laughter, and he picked up the pace. I was so primed that I felt my orgasm come on with a rush and one ecstatic wave after another spasmed through me as my legs gripped his bucking frame. I didn't have Wendy's vocal self-control and yelled, "Oh fuck, Oh Jesus, don't stop," almost at the top of my voice. I felt my eyes roll back in my head as his sperm filled me and I subsided back to earth. This is not like me, the most I normally do is give little moans, even for a thoroughly fulfilling orgasm, and I do not swear.

When I opened my eyes, Bill was looking anxious, and George and Wendy were standing over me. Wendy was smiling and she dug George in the ribs, "I think they were watching us," she said. George did not say anything. I don't think he quite believed his eyes.

"We all need to wash the sand off," continued the ever-practical Wendy. I was beginning to really like her. I got up briskly and followed her into the water and I heard George and Bill behind us after a moment's hesitation.

"What looks did they exchange?" I wondered, as I ducked down to let the water wash over my shoulders. We didn't really swim; the beach doesn't shelve as steeply there. Back on the beach I put on my shoes and shirt although I had no clear memory of when I had taken them off.