The First day
Each plane we board is smaller than the last as we flew south for our dream vacation. We had started out at Vancouver International Airport on a huge wide bodied something or other, then changed planes in Honolulu and again in New Zealand until we finally took off from some small South Pacific island in a tiny float plane for our final flight to the resort of our dreams and our vacation in the sun. The resort's name was, quite simply, 'Paradise' and the brochure had promised us a vacation like no other we could ever imagine. We had read no further than that and booked our trip.
"Fuck the expense!" I had cried and Zoë agreed with me completely; after all, we had just won a small lottery and we needed a vacation on some exotic South Seas island.
~oo00O00oo~
"If we see a dwarf standing next to a tall Spanish looking guy on the pier we're leaving OK Baby," I joke as we begin the descent to land in the calm atoll waters of the tiny island that our resort is on.
Our pilot kindly takes us in high over the tropical island so we can see all of it. I hold Zoë's hand as we look out the windows at the breathtaking view. The island looks like two very different round islands pushed together to form one in the shape of the figure eight. The southern half is a tall ancient volcano with its peak in the clouds above us while the northern half is a low, gently sloping mass of tropical jungle giving way to palm groves nearer to the shore. A wide stream fed by a beautiful waterfall meanders north from the cliff face of the volcano to empty into a lagoon that is protected by the coral reef that surrounds the island. The outer edge of the reef is dotted with small sandy islets covered with palm groves making the whole look like a blue and green eye in the deeper blue of the ocean around it.
As the plane banks to line up for its final approach, we see the resort sprawled out under the tall palms surrounding the mouth of the stream and facing the lagoon. Two long piers reach out from sandy beaches one with numerous small boats tied to it with the other leading to thatch covered rooms on pilings over the sparkling water.
Our floatplane lands with a slight bump and an impressive spray of water before taxing to the end of the pier that has all the boats. As we get closer Zoë notices that there isn't anyone there to greet us and asks the copilot in a worried voice, "They are expecting us aren't they?"
"I don't think that there is a clock on this whole damned island," he complains. "Of course they are, Zoë, I talked to the reservations clerk by radio just before we picked you up at your hotel," he says with a grin as he opens the door of the plane so he can jump out and secure it to the dock.
As we step down from the plane onto the pier and into the scorching morning sun, the pilot apologizes again for our lost luggage. Our two small bags seem to have gone missing in Hawaii or somewhere. All we have with us is a tiny carry on suitcase containing some 'toys' we didn't want to lose and a money belt with our passports, credit cards and cash. Our 'toys' definitely caused some raised eyebrows and even a few smiles from the attendants at the many X-ray machines we had to put it through as we flew across the Pacific.
We stand there in the only clothes we have left; our winter weight clothes from when we started our trip. "No worries mate," our pilot calls as he looks at his watch. "The hotel is just up the path you'll find when you get off the pier. I suggest that you get in the shade as soon as you can what with that northern gear you're wearing. We have to be off to Taranga to pick up our next fare." With that, the pair unties the plane and giving it a mighty shove away from the dock, they climb inside with hearty waves back at us standing in stunned and sweaty silence.
"Well, he is right, Serge, let's head for shade before I melt," Zoë sighs. "Paradise indeed!" she mmmph's as she turns and begins walking toward the palm grove and its shade. I hurry to keep up with my pretty lady as I pull off my heavy shirt and feel the soft trade winds begin to cool me a little. "Men," Zoë says as her arms disappear into her top and after a struggle, a pink, lacy bra appears like magic in her hand. "AAH, that's a little better. Here you carry it, seeing as I can't take my top off like you, you man you," she says dangling the offending article of clothing from her fingertips. I take the bra from her fingers and, putting it to my nose, take a deep whiff of her wonderful scent and toss it into the lagoon along with my sweatshirt.
"Who needs clothes in paradise," I quip as I pretend to pull off her top.
We have reached the beach by this time and Zoë runs, laughing, the last few meters into the shade of the towering palms to sit exhausted on a convenient bench at the start of a wide path that leads to a dense overgrown jungle. I follow her again and notice a water fountain to her left. "A bench in the shade with a water fountain next to it, this just might be paradise," I roar as I suck down at least a gallon of sweet cold water then splash it all over me.
"Oh God, I'm next!" Zoë shouts as she pushes me aside for her turn at the fountain. "Um, that's better," she purrs with her thirst quenched and her freshly wet top clinging tightly to her perky breasts.
We sit down on the bench again and I say to my love, "Paradise is certainly tardy in greeting its new guests, don't you think, Baby."
~oo00O00oo~
"Oh, there they are!" a deep, sultry, woman's voice comes from the beach. "I tell you, Jean Claude that Aussie pilot is always early."
"He's the one with a watch; we're probably late again, Iman."
"Hush, dear, you know you can't be late on an island."
I look up to see a couple walking toward us from the beach hand in hand. The woman is a tall and very pretty black lady with very short hair. With her is a man that can only be French what with his sharp Gallic nose and that look that only the French and Italians seem to master. Then I look again as they are completely naked; their bodies are oiled and glisten in the sun. I nudge Zoë from the little nap she is having on the bench to point.
Noticing my stare the woman punches the man with her in the arm saying, "You told me you updated the website and brochure about Paradise being clothing optional last week."
"Ouch, that hurt!" the man exclaims as he rubs his arm, "And yes I did update it...yesterday."
"Allow me to introduce ourselves. This forgetful man is Jean Claude and my name is Iman. We are your hosts while you stay in Paradise."
Zoë looks at me and then at the two nude people in front of us, "You mean we can get out of these hot clothes?" she asks in amazement.
"But of course, you may dress or undress as you wish here in Paradise," Iman replies.
"Yes!" Zoë yells as she stands and strips off her hot clothes to stand naked in front of me to say, "God, that's better; your turn now Serge."
We give each other a loving look as I stand to do the same, "Well, this is a surprise," I say as I undress. "Being nude in Paradise is a plus we had thought of, but didn't expect," I say as I throw my last sock onto the bench and wink at my pretty lady. We had hoped to sneak off for naked trysts away from the resort, but to be able to walk around nude together in public is a nice revelation."
"Oh, you can do more than just be nude in public here," Iman answers cryptically in her beautifully flowing Caribbean accent. "Oooh, I see you both are 'Smoothies' and pierced and tattooed as well," Iman remarks as she stares at my pierced nipples, cock and balls and Zoë's huge clit hood ring. "You'll be the talk of the resort before nightfall, I bet. It'll be hard to know when to stop describing you two!
"So few of the men are willing to shave their pubes these days, or have their cocks pierced for that matter. Right, Jean Claude? Maybe we should shave you and get your cock pieced like Serge's."
"Ah, Aiata," Jean Claude says as he pulls absently at his huge thatch of pubic hair, "on time, as always."
I turn to look up the path to where he is looking to see a beautiful bare breasted Polynesian girl wearing only a sarong tied around her waist, with the knot on her right hip, walking toward us. She is carrying a tray with four glasses of some type of fancy tropical drink on it. Her large brown breasts gently sway above the tray with each step.
"Singapore Slings?" Jean Claude asks.
"What else?" Aiata laughs and smiles as she offers the first glass to Zoë then the second to me and the final two to our new hosts.
Jean Claude raises his glass in a toast and when we all respond he says in a very bad Spanish accent, "Serge and Zoë, Welcome to Fantasy Island."
We both laugh and Zoë asks if they had bugged the plane.
"No, the fool only does that about once or twice a month as a joke and it's a lame joke at that. Our European guests don't get it at all," Iman answers with the long suffering look that woman share together at there men's silliness.
Just as we finish our drinks, Aiata returns with two more Singapore Slings. Iman and Jean Claude place their empties on her tray and offer the fresh ones to us saying that they must get back to the hotel to prepare for our arrival.
A new islander appears with two wide brimmed straw hats and two pair of sandals in his hands. He is wearing a sarong around his waist as well but it is tied in front so every now and then there is a glimpse of his rather large cock; if you were inclined to look that is. "Thank you, Teiki, for your consideration. Would you please take our new guests clothes and what little luggage they have managed to keep from being lost by the airlines up to the hotel for us?" Iman asks.
"Of course Madam."
Looking at us Iman says, "You'll find it all in the room that you select along with new clothes to replace those you lost en route. Rest here and meet us at the hotel when you are ready. Its just a little ways up the path."
We sit in silence surrounded by the sounds of tropical birds and the gentle lap of the water on the white sand beach. The soft trade wind rustles the palm fronds high above our heads as it gently cools our now naked bodies.
"The wind feels so sensuous, I can feel it moving over every little hair on me. You know that lagoon looks so inviting and cooling, though. I think I'm just going to walk right in. Please come with me, Serge," Zoë purrs.
"Right behind you Baby," I drawl agreeing with her about the wind; I am getting a woody from the breeze as it plays over my naked body.
