Ocean Breezes

It was almost embarrassing how little luggage they had for the bellman Angelo to help them with, but he seemed to pay no attention as he slung both of the gym bags over one shoulder, unlocked the cabana and invited them to enter.

The day had been full of transportation of diminishing sizes: a jet into Miami then a regional jet to Grand Bahama Island. The four-seater prop plane brought them to this tiny island where they were met by Angelo. From there it had been a 20-minute ride through the sugar cane fields under an azure sky completely devoid of clouds. They passed through a discrete gate then down one of seven small paths. There was no central high-rise at this resort, no restaurant where you were part of the crowd. This was a place where privacy was cherished. Services were provided right in the cabana. The brochure had said there was a good chance you would never see another visitor. Their first impression suggested this was true.

She let out a slight gasp as they entered. It was just as she had always imagined: Hardwood floors, high ceilings with fans turning lazily. White leather furniture dotted the place and matched the long curtains that hung from the glass-less windows.

The quick tour included the kitchen with appliances worthy of the chef who would visit the cabana each evening to prepare dinner and a very sturdy looking butcher block table that held a bowl of fresh fruit. The bedroom had a magnificent king-sized bed with posters made of what looked to be native exotic hardwood. It held a canopy of white linen that matched the drapes and a mosquito net was tucked to one side. The closet was far larger than they would need.

Their host showed them to the patio, with two matching chaise lounges with royal blue cushions and a retractable awning to shade the area. A large hammock hung between two palm trees and on the opposite side was a hot tub. A circular stairway wound its way up to a balcony nearly two stories high. On it was a large outdoor bed with the same blue cushions.

Through the thick vegetation was a stone path that led to the beach.

"Your chef tonight will be Maria," their host said. She will be here promptly at 7:30." He graciously accepted their tip and bid them farewell, again reminding them to call if they needed anything.

Finally alone, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. "Where would you like to make love, my dear?"

They had both simmered all day. In the security line at the airport she had innocently backed into him, pushing her firm ass against his hardness. On the plane to Miami he slid his hand under the hem of her sundress and enjoyed finding her pantiless. She had to bite her lip to remain silent as she enjoyed the first orgasm of the day while pretending to read her Kindle. She had even slipped a hand into his pants in the back seat of the car on their way to the resort.

While they both very much enjoyed the naughtiness of semi-private play what the both wanted to do was rip each other's clothes off and just go at it.

Barely taking a second for their lips to separate, he grabbed the hem of her sundress and lifted it over her head. She was quite naked and they returned to their embrace. She pushed him back, gently but firmly until he fell back on the bed. He unbuttoned his shorts and she pulled them down his legs, revealing his hardness. He took off his shirt and soon she was on top of him, kissing his mouth, his neck, nibbling his ears.

She aligned herself so her swollen clit was rubbing against his shaft, his fingernails gliding along her back. They took their lovemaking too seriously to ever skimp on the foreplay, but she decided they had been teasing each other for hours. She reached between her legs and led his head to her very wet opening. She groaned deeply as he entered her, going slowly, allowing her to stretch to welcome him. Still they kissed, they always kissed and he loved to taste her mouth.

She sat up, eager to take him in fully. He loved to watch her beautiful breasts, still quite firm, as she gyrated on top of him. She reached up and grasped one of the bars that supported the canopy. Holding it firmly, it gave her added leverage as she rode him.

He moved his hand to her clit and massaged it, taking some of her wetness from his shaft. Soon she felt an orgasm building deep within her toes and her moans grew louder as it reached her mons. Their surroundings allowed her to be as vocal as she wanted to be as she announced the pleasure with a freedom she hadn't enjoyed on the plane that morning. She collapsed against him, still working her pelvis, "I love fucking you," she whispered in his ear. "This week I'm going to fuck you all over this house, but right now I want to feel you explode deep inside of me. C'mon baby, cum for me." She again sat up and her gray eyes locked on his. "Are you ready to cum for me?" she cooed. She felt his cock twitch as he let out with a groan of his own. Soon she felt his warmth fill her and she smiled.

Again she kissed his mouth as her pelvis slowly milked every last drop from his cock.

They fell asleep to the sound of the distant waves and the gentle caress of the sea breeze.

She awoke to the sound of a doorbell. Leaving him still sleeping, she slipped the discarded dress over her head and noticed their suitcases were still where they had been dropped a couple of hours earlier. She opened the door to find Maria, looking very smart and professional in her crisp, gray chef coat and pants. Maria smiled and introduced herself, then pushed her sizable cart through the door and into the kitchen.

With the chef squared away in the kitchen she returned to the bedroom and give him a light, intimate tickle. "The chef is here, sleepy head, I'm getting in the shower." He groaned a bit and rolled over. Men.

She was as impressed with the shower as she was the rest of the place. Gleaming gray and white tile covered a shower larger than any bathtub she had ever seen. On one end was a tiled bench and mounted on the walls were two sets of handles that were clearly to allow a fun-filled shower for two. It took her a moment to figure out the controls directing water to two cascade heads, a dozen nozzles coming from all four sides and hand-held unit as well. She worked a loufa into lather and slowly washed her body. She paid special attention to her mons, washing away their last session and preparing herself for their next. She took advantage of the hand-held sprayer to thoroughly rinse beneath and allowed the water to linger on her clit for just a bit longer than a proper lady would have.

She dried off and put on one of the luxurious soft bath robes hanging behind the door.

She started unpacking her bag as he headed to the shower. She smiled a bit remembering what she had packed: sundresses, a few pairs of panties, two bikinis, a bra for the trip home and some flip flops. Her mother would not have approved. In the interest of time, she unpacked his bag as well: a bathing suit, shirts and shorts and underwear. Men were so simple. She laid out for him a crisp, white linen shirt and a pair of khaki shorts on the bed and went into the kitchen.

Maria was all business, but underneath she had an exotic island beauty. She explained she was trained in the fine dining establishments in Miami but loved the slower pace of the resort, cooking for just six people each night. He joined them in the kitchen and the space was clearly not big enough for the three of them. Maria handed each of them sangria with fresh fruit floating in the glass and shooed them out to the hammock so she could finish preparing dinner. As they settled in, the chef appeared with a large bowl of fresh fruit: pineapple, mango, star fruit, kiwi and others they did not instantly recognize. The bowl was handed to him with instructions, "On this island fresh fruit is customarily fed to each other." She paused. "But at this resort it is customary to share without using your fingers." She smiled and returned to the kitchen.

He was puzzled, but she understood. She took a piece of kiwi and held it between her teeth, then moved her mouth to his. He eagerly took his half of the fruit as his lips met hers. This may prove to be the best bowl of fruit ever, he thought.

"High school rules?" she asked. "High school rules," he agreed. One of them called for high school rules when they needed to be close. Much like a high school date, kissing and cuddling were a high priority. Second and third base were attainable, but only through the clothes. This was about connecting, not about sex. Although she had first proposed the idea, it seemed that he called for it more often.

By the time the smells of seafood filled their noses they were sticky from the fruit, turned on and felt very much in love.

They enjoyed dinner on the patio, sitting in the quiet enjoying the sound of the wave and evening breeze rustling through the thick vegetation. The meal was nothing short of perfect, a light, fresh offering of seafood and local fruits and vegetables.

Maria came out and cleared the plates. "There is a jug of sangria in the refrigerator and the frittata for breakfast is already to go. Baking instructions are on the counter."

The sun had set during the meal and they followed the sparsely-illuminated path to the beach. The breeze had picked up but was still quite warm. They walked along the water's edge, hand in hand, with every star ever conceived ablaze above them in the clear skies. It was a remarkable feeling of solitude, just two lovers with the ocean they could have been shipwrecked on a deserted island for all they knew at the moment. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, trying to feel as close physically as she was emotionally.

"We need to go skinny dipping," she said, matter of factly.

"You've apparently never seen Jaws."

"Fine, suit yourself, then you can stay here and hold my clothes." With that she shimmied out of her sundress, squeezed the bulge on the front of his shorts and dashed in the water. Behind her she knew he was furiously stripping out of his clothes. Soon they were again intertwined, their wet, smooth skin sliding against the other, tongues exploring mouths, hands very much violating the high school rules.

"Ever cum in the ocean?" she asked.

"I whizzed off a fishing boat, does that count?" he said with a grin.

"Ass. Let's give this a try."

They were in waist-deep water. She lay on her back and spread her legs. He took a step forward and gently took her hips, pulling her toward him. Her hand guided him in and soon they were connected, her ankles hooked behind him. They found that thrusting did not work, but the gentle motion of the waves was a perfect rhythm as they bobbed against each other. The sight was magnificent. The full moon glowed against her wet skin, her hard nipples moving with the surf. They bobbed together for nearly half an hour, enjoying the quiet and the stars.

He pulled out of her abruptly. "Last one to the hot tub has to sleep on the wet spot," he said, running out of the water. She was, certainly, far faster than him and she had him tackled before he was out of the water. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her across the beach and up the path to their cabana. She wasn't at all surprised that his hand was on her ass the entire time. Some things, afterall, never change.

He put her down on the edge of the patio and stood to rinse the sand off before entering. As she stood under the water he pushed her back against the shower support.

++++++

It occurred to her that she was missing him. After being practically attached at the hip (or near there) for more than 24 hours the few minutes it took him to go back to the cabana to refill the sangria jug and bring back some fruit seemed to be taking forever. But soon as her mind was lulled watching the waves she heard him return.

He sat down behind her, legs on either side, and he kissed her neck. He felt the warmth of her sun-baked skin and smelled the sun tan lotion, a smell that he always associated with the beach but had an otherwise generic aroma. She had decided her bikini tops would stay in the dresser drawer this week, a luxury afforded by the high degree of privacy on their beach. "Let's get you lathered up, the last thing I need this week is for you to have a sunburn that can't be touched."

Soon she felt the cool smoothness of the lotion on her shoulders and the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and hung her head, relaxing in his hands and relishing the feel of his hands. He worked her shoulders, her back, paying special attention to his favorite places: her shoulder blades and the small surgical scar on her lower back. She had notice that whenever they made love he spent extra time licking, kissing and nibbling those areas, although she had no idea why. If she had asked she would find that he didn't either, it was just his way.

He scooted back a little to give him access to her lower back down to the top of her bikini bottoms. They were the smallest she had worn in how long? A quarter century, perhaps? But as she watched his eyes fill with lust that morning she knew she could still make them work.

He moved back so he was brushing against her back, his hands reached around she felt the lotion cover her breasts. He toyed lightly with her very erect nipples as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She always enjoyed his touch and the addition of the silky lotion, the sun and the very publicness of their surroundings heightened her passion.

He paid extra attention to the underside of each breast, slowly massaging the fleshly globe in a slow, methodical pattern, then his hands moved to her flat stomach. He gently pulled her back against him as his touched wandered to where she so wanted it to go. His hands were clear of the lotion by now and what had started as concern for her skin had, predictably, become lascivious. The swelling the front of her suit revealed her desire and his fingers explored her through the whisper-thin nylon of her bathing suit.

His finger traced the puffiness of her outer lips, slowly following the swell in the fabric, down the left side, underneath and back to the top on the right. She jumped as his finger found her clit, then he quickly moved to her inner lips, again tracing the contours of her womanhood and they revealed themselves against her suit.

His other hand was kneading a breast as she reached back and wrapped her arms around her neck, arching her back and further offering his breasts to his touch. The backs of the fingernails of his lower hand lightly traced her skin just above the waistband. "Yes please," she murmured and he slid his fingers into the elastic. His first two fingers deftly opened her folds and the center finger reached into her wetness.

He extracted his finger and followed the inside of her lips to the clit. She gasped as he first touched it. He slowly, lazily brushed his finger against her nub. First up and down, then back and forth. At times he would squeeze it lightly between his fingers, other he would tug it gently, often returning to gather more wetness to keep it smooth and lubricated.

He hooked his thumbs on the waist of her suit and gave it a tug. From the position, he couldn't move it far but she was more than willing to help him. Soon she was completely naked on a beautiful beach and, she knew, wasn't too far from an orgasm. Afternoons didn't get a lot better than this.

She turned around and kissed him deeply, then pushed him back onto the towel. She stuffed a towel under his head and sat on his chest. She wrapped his hair around her fingers and lowered her womanhood to his mouth. His tongue extended into her, exploring the same folds and creases his fingers had so recently enjoyed.

They locked eyes between her breasts. He reveled at her beauty against a cloudless Caribbean sky, her body just beginning to shimmer under the warmth of the sun. She adjusted slightly to align her clit with his tongue and he took the hint. A series of light licks, followed by increasing pressure prompted an orgasm to begin in her toes. Her hips rocked lightly and the seemed to keep pace with the ebbing and flowing surf. She reached back and steadied her hands on his waist, pushing herself harder against his mouth. He quickened his pace as his hands went to the small of her back to provide extra support.

Her moans became louder and more frequent until suddenly she went silent as the orgasm rushed to her loins. She lurched forward, her hands in the sand and grinding against his face as coaxed the last of her orgasm from her.

She reached back and began massaging his cock through his bathing suit. But her gently took her hand in his and whispered, "Please don't, let's let this session be all about you." Their sweaty bodies nestled in and she dozed off, with vision of the butcher block table in the kitchen.

As the shadows grew a bit longer she decided she had had enough sun for the day. He still had two more chapters to finish in his book, so she headed back to the cabana alone. Knowing that Maria would soon be arriving, she slid the sundress on over her bikini bottoms and headed up the path.

She stopped in the kitchen to refill her sangria and noticed an interesting parcel on the butcher block. The clothes they had left strewn about the beach last night had been carefully laundered and were neatly folded there. As a mom she had her doubts about his white shirt that had been tossed in the sand, but it was as clean as the day it came from the store, and expertly pressed. She wondered why in the world there would even be starch at a resort like this, but the doorbell distracted her thoughts.

Maria was at the door, looking lovely in her all-business chef outfit. The two ladies discussed the night's menu a bit. "It wasn't originally planned, but I brought fruit for another fruit salad," the chef said. "It was nice to see how the two of you very much appreciated my efforts last night," she added with a bit of a gleam in her eye.

The chef set to work and she excused herself to the shower. As the water got warm she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. For the first time she could remember her breasts were as tan as the rest of her and she liked the look. The small bikini bottom left just enough pale skin to provide a contrast. She stepped into the stream of hot water and began to wash away the day's mixture of sand, sun tan lotion and seaspray. A few minutes with the razor ensured that she was smooth and inviting to his touch.

As she left the bathroom he had just come in from the beach. She kissed him deeply, then dropped to her knees, taking his bathing suit down with her. He was, of course, already erect and she offered several long, slow licks up and down his shaft. She stood and kissed him again. "Maria's already here, but I assure you that after where you took me this afternoon you are in for some very special treats this evening. Now get in the shower so you taste extra good."

As he headed for the soap she examined her limited options in the closet. She chose a longish, flowy yellow dress. She loved how her tan shoulders would highlight the thin straps. She knew his favorite part was that the buttons ran from the hem to the neckline, allowing her to be as flirty as she chose. She decided that relatively few buttons would be necessary this evening. She left it open up to her mid thigh, then closed the dress until it showed a hint of cleavage. Assessing the look in the mirror she released a button at the top, then another. As she turned she saw that nearly an entire bronzed breast could be visible. Maria had, she decided, seen guests dressed far more scandalously and she had plans for that night.

She returned to the kitchen to see another large bowl of fruit had been prepared. "Let's leave these in the fridge for now," she said, "I think we'll save these for dessert." She filled two tumblers full of sangria and headed to the patio, noticing how the sway of her breast was visible with each step.