Again, I went to the hotel gym and worked out. I did some Nautilus machine to tone my legs and arms. While I was working out a young couple came into the gym. I could not place them and then it hit me - they were the couple from the balcony last night. I avoided looking at them but could not help conjuring up my experience as a voyeur. I remembered the sex acts of the couple and my own fantasy-induced orgasm. I especially recollected how he face-fucked her until his sperm spewed all over her face. My crotch grew wet at the memory.
As usual, I ended my workout with regimen of yoga exercises that to me were a combination of the spiritual, the physical, and the sensual. After twenty minutes of zoning out, I finished up with my favorite exercise, the Plow Pose. Careful to aim my crotch at the working gym of mostly male beach-candy, I laid on my back, lifted my legs straight up toward the ceiling, and then slowly brought them so that they hinged at my hips and ended up parallel to my body with my knees at my shoulders. I then held my legs in place with my hands, elbows on the floor. I also used my hands to push my legs slightly away from my body. This position resulted in the complete stretching out of just about every muscle in my body while communicating to any and all male spectators, "I am wide open and on my back. Come fuck me!" Eyes closed and breathing controlled, I held the position for five minutes.
Finished at the gym, I dashed up to the hotel room determined to encourage to get moving so we could grab some beach time. He was peacefully sleeping under the covers, out cold, and didn't seem to care that I had been up and gone for the better part of two hours. Playfully, I jumped on him and shouted playfully, "Time to get up." When he reacted too slowly, I tore off my sports bra and waved my 36DDs right in front of his face. "If you want 'em, come and get 'em. I am going to take a shower." With that I jumped of the bed, and headed for the shower, dropping my shorts on the way.
The shower was huge, maybe 6 feet long by 4 feet wide with the shower head on the long wall. The shower had a seat molded into one corner to allow one to sit down. The only reason that I could think that a seat in a shower would be useful was to sit down to shave my legs.
I turned on the water to almost scalding and let the hot water relax my muscles. Then a nude Paul arrived in the shower. He leaned against the wall with a sleepy, playful, and lecherous look on his face and watched my body as I wetted myself down. It had an arousing effect on him that was obvious from his growing erection. I held out my hand and pulled him to me under the spray. He reached behind me to grab a bar of scented soap. I turned to present him my back, and then his hands began soaping me down. He lathered my back and slid his hands around my midsection to my stomach and then up to my breasts. My nipples were already hard as his palms rubbed over them. I luxuriated at his touch.
Now it was my turn. We fought playfully for the bar of soap, and he relinquished it after I tickled him. I turned to face him and put my arms around him, running the soap over his back and buttocks while I French kissed him rubbed against him with my already soapy front. My nipples were two points of pure sensation as they slid across his skin. He made a gentle sigh as the bar of soap and my hands worked his genitals.
We moved back under the water and rinsed each other off, embracing constantly because the slickness of skin upon skin was a pure aphrodisiac. He spun me around to face away from him. With my back to him, he moved my body to lean on the shower bench, bending me from the waist with my ass and cunt toward him. Then he entered me in one thrust, my vagina wet and eager to receive him. I turned my head to kiss him again over my shoulder. I began to move my buttocks up and down, rubbing his penis around inside me. He stopped moving. I was doing all the movement - back and forth, up and down. It was me fucking him. I thought that I would explode. I was surprised by how unplanned it was, how acrobatic we were, and how hot we were for sex. Usually, we consumed a bottle or two of wine to loosen our normal middle class inhibitions before we copulated and fucked like a pair of rabbits.
I was getting tired. He sensed that and withdrew from me, sitting down on the shower bench. He turned me so my back was to him and he pulled me onto his lap. As I sunk down, I used my hand to steady his cock, and I slid on to it. I heard him gasp as he penetrated my completely. He began to thrust up, and I leaned back into him while he was moving. I took one of his hands from my breasts, and guided it down to my lap. He got the idea and began to manipulate my clit. Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around my middle and stood up with his cock deep inside me. He reached out with his other hand to set the shower head to its most pulsating action and then he pointed it at the seat. The he sat down, pulled me in tight, used his legs to spread mine wide, and the pulsating water slammed on to my cunt with his moving cock inside me. It did not take long for the orgasm to tear through me, leaving me senseless for a brief time. Somewhere in there he ejaculated inside me. When he shrunk back to normal, his cock popped out along with some sperm that the water carried away quickly. We had still not spoken one word since he had entered the shower. Maybe there was still hope for this 30-something married couple after all.
After we dried and dressed for the beach, we stopped at the concierge desk to get briefed on the available beaches. Jamaica has a mix of private and public beaches, and we wanted to stay on the beaches that the hotel was licensed to use privately. The concierge explained that there were five beaches that tended to be used by hotel guests. These beaches were all within walking distance of the hotel. From the south to the north of the hotel were Clothing Optional, Public, Topless, Family, and Water Sports. She discouraged use of the Clothing Optional beach unless we intended to be nude as that is the expected norm, "optional" being a misnomer. She also discouraged going to the public beach due to the high density of beach venders selling everything from sodas, bootleg rum, and their sisters/mothers. The "sports" beach had a big disadvantage in that most of the equipment there was motorized but driven by tourists who did not know how to steer and frequently ran into each other or over non-motorized tourists. That left "topless" or "family." No surprise, Paul blurted out "topless" and away we went.
At the beach we rented a tented cabana for the day. The cabana had four chairs, two of which reclined for sleeping or sun bathing. It even had a light canvas door to pull if we wanted privacy or sleep. Waitresses in skimpy hotel bikinis wandered the beach to get orders for and deliver drinks and meals which is why each cabana had a table set with napkins, condiments, and silverware.
Almost all of the women at the beach were topless. Even those who were older seemed to have a lot to show off. Erect nipples seemed to the (un)dress code for the day. There were a couple of groups of young college males, most with cell phone cameras out taking photos to post of Facebook or send out over Instagram. Watching them, I thought they were taking boob-posts rather than selfies. Some of the guys even had cameras with detachable and telephoto lenses. I thought those cameras could take sharp, in-focus photos that facial recognition software could match with the identities of the subjects. This was not the place to do anything indiscrete and assume anonymity would be assured.
As has been the rule since we arrived, Paul was easily distracted by the flesh on exhibit. Much to his apparent pleasure, none of the beach guests covered up even when going to/from the water.
In his not-so-subtle way, Paul then casually mentioned, "Let me have your top, and I will put it in our beach bag so we don't lose it." He thought he was so artful, just verbally presuming that I would immediately whip off my top and prance with him nearly naked on a beach full of strangers many with cameras who submitted photos to websites that included
voyeur
and
beach
in their site names.
My suit of the day was a Valentine red micro crochet bikini with a triangle patch in front riding low riding barely above legal that was attached by two string ties to a another crochet triangle in the back that covered only 30% of my butt. On top were two more red triangles that had built in cups with some wire below for support. The top cut low and showed a very deep cleavage with lots of side view flesh. The top had two ties, one rear and one around my neck. I purchased it on line and, while the fit was perfect, there was not much to it. The material was crocheted which read fine in the product description online, but in the flesh I wondered just how well it would hold up when wet.
"Paul, let's get a mimosa or two before I shed my top. I am a bit too shy to become an exhibitionist. At least we should wait, until more women show up that are as endowed as I am. Maybe you noticed all the cameras? Not sure I want to end up as a centerfold in the Goldman annual report."
We ordered some fruit, toast, and mimosas (equal parts champagne and orange juice)...then two more mimosas...then I thought the hell with it, ditched the top, and ran with Paul into the surf. It was like bath water and shallow for a long way out. We both slid into the water and began to swim lazily, parallel to the beach about seventy yards out. We said nothing to each other but just glided slowly as if we were the only people around. I floated on my back for a while with my 36DDs plowing through the water like twin periscopes. Paul just stared at them reassuring me as always in his comically suave voice, "My dear, you look udderly divine. Just like the Roman goddess of the seas, Amphitrite. Of course, if you are Amphitrite, then I must be Neptune, the god of the sea. Needless to say, that means that you must obey my every command."
Playing along, I said, "What does Lord Neptune want from me?"
His rapid response was, "A blow job fit for a king. Possibly you could do it immediately out here underwater."
In response, I splashed his face causing him to put turn away. Give that opportunity, I closed on him and pushed his head down into the water amongst much splashing and gurgling. I swam away with him in pursuit. He caught up just as I started out of water. Hand-in-hand laughing we went back to our cabana.
On the way, I felt that the part of my suit covering my butt had either shrunk or collapsed into a throng. Either way, my butt now had no coverage except for a thick string of cloth in the crack. The front of the suit seemed smaller to me but it covered my crotch to the extent that I was marginally not naked.
