For as long as I can remember, I have loved that specific moment when a person lets go, loses themselves, gives up all control, and completely capitulates. It is a moment of transcendence and rapture. I simply cannot get enough of it. Some - possibly many - would say that my desire, my lust to immerse myself in it, is wrong; maybe even sick. But I disagree.
He was a total stranger. I didn't know him at the time, and never would. He was just there. Nobody special. Totally unremarkable. I almost didn't notice him at all. He blended into the crowd, and looked just like every other guy who was there that night. There was nothing remarkable or even memorable about him...except for his face. I will never forget the look on his face.
There was no way I could have missed his look, since he was barely three feet away from my wife and I. If he had been breathing, I would have been able to smell the alcohol on his breath. But he wasn't breathing; not even a wisp of air escaped his nostrils. His jaw was slack, and his mouth gaped, and his lips just barely parted in a faint grimace. His head hung back at an awkward angle, unmoving. And his eyes, half-lidded, were glazed over, unfocused and unseeing.
I was happy because it was my fault. I was the caused of his expression. At least, I was partly to blame. But I wasn't only thrilled because of him; I especially enjoyed his unflinching stare because, mere inches from my face, I could see that exact same countenance upon my wife's lovely face.
Sandra wore the same ecstatic stare, just like his. Her head tilted back, motionless, and her lips yawned open subtly, with no breath escaping them. Seeing her like that gave me a thrill like none other. I was elated to see her, my love, in such a state: motionless, frozen, gone.
"La petit mort" (the little death) has been used to describe that expression and that moment. I believe it is the perfect description.
****
It all began at the hotel's lobby bar. We were at our favorite, quaint, adults-only Caribbean resort. It was more than just a resort for adults; it was a clothing optional playground for the sexually adventurous. During the day, most guests opted to wear nothing at all. At night, the attire tended toward formal wear: classy, but very revealing, very sexy, and almost never including underwear. There were lively theme nights such as "GI Joes and Army Ho's", "White Night", and "Leather and Lace Night", and guests were encouraged to wear scanty costumes matching the nightly theme.
What really set this resort apart, however, was that guests were allowed - and even encouraged - to be openly sexual with each other in public. The management officially restricted such behavior to two specific locations: the Jacuzzi Lounge and the "Sin Room" behind the disco. However, the staff was flexible about enforcing the rules as long guests demonstrated some discretion. The lobby bar was one area where there was frequent "flexibility", and as I learned that night, very little discretion.
This bar was unlike other hotel lobby bars. It was an outdoor marble patio, located under a jungle of palm trees that swayed in the warm tropical breeze. Small groupings of padded loveseats and low coffee tables were scattered around. There were a few queen-sized beds suspended like swings from rough hewn wooden frames around the periphery. A mix of sensual jazz and contemporary music wafted from speakers hidden in the lush vegetation, and a large erotically themed fountain bubbled in the middle of it all.
It was well past 1 a.m., and yet the place was jammed. The theme that night was "Red Night", and the guests wore a mélange of costumes. The women's costumes ranged from translucent, floor length gowns with very low cut neck lines, to nothing more than red pasties and matching g-strings. In stark contrast, the men dressed much more conservatively in long pants and collared shirts. The saying at the resort was "It's all about the women", and this was most evident in the way everyone dressed that night.
In keeping with the night's theme, Sandra wore a clingy, crimson red dress with a slit that went all the way up to her hip bone, and a neck line that plunged down below her navel. Her beautiful, full breasts were unrestrained and they swayed enticingly with her every movement. It was also obvious that, in keeping with the resort's custom, she wore no underwear. Each time she turned or twisted, and especially if she bent over even slightly, her smoothly-waxed pussy flashed into view. She was stunning. I could see her beauty, and so could everyone else.
Squeezing through the crowd after enjoying the disco, we had found a small open spot at the end of the thatch-roofed bar. We grabbed the last high-backed bar stool and shared it, alternately leaning against it and the bar. We settled in and ordered drinks, and relaxed in the warm night air.
Sandra spotted him first, hardly three feet away from us at the corner of the bar. He was sitting next to a raven-haired woman dressed almost as provocatively as Sandra in an open-necked, very low-cut, red blouse. Neither of us could hear what the two of them were saying over the music and the low roar of the crowd surrounding us. They looked very innocuous, conversing innocently.
Despite the noise, Sandra somehow heard the sound of his zipper being pulled open. She glanced over at them before turning back to me.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered in my ear. In general, she is far more observant than I. When the circumstances are carnal in nature, her senses are even more highly tuned.
"What?" I answered, oblivious to what she had heard.
"You really didn't see that?" She elbowed me in the ribs. The neck of her dress gaped open, and I was momentarily distracted by the sight of her luscious bare breast.
"You can be so dense sometimes," she chided, and rolled her eyes.
I shrugged, and took another sip of my martini, enjoying the cold burn as it slid down my throat.
"Don't stare, but she just pulled his cock out of his pants." Her lips were almost touching my ear as she whispered her discovery. Her warm breath on my skin was nearly as distracting as the press of her full breast against my arm where she leaned into me.
"Look! She's stroking him under the bar," she hissed in a combination of surprise and excitement.
Feigning boredom, I glanced over at the objects of her spying. The man to our right was gazing at his companion and chatting as though he were carrying on a mundane conversation. His partner leaned casually against the bar on one elbow, with a drink in her hand, smiling as if entranced by whatever he was saying. Meanwhile, her other hand was indeed wrapped around his turgid cock, stroking up and down. The slight tremble of his hand caused the ice cubes in his drink to shudder; otherwise, nothing would have appeared at all out of the ordinary...above the bar.
Sandra moved slightly to stand between my legs, and leaned against me. Now we could both see our neighbors better without being too obvious - or so we thought. Her hip brushed against my groin when she moved, and my cock - already beginning to stir - grew harder. Evidently, she could feel my excitement, because she began swishing her hip back and forth, intentionally rubbing against me. It didn't take long before I was at full arousal.
My hard cock bulged against my thin linen pants. Sandra smiled, enjoying the effect she had on me. I scooted the bar stool forward, and pinned her between my legs and the edge of the bar. Instantly, she was nestled firmly into my crotch, and I knew that she could feel my hardness against her. There was no room for her to lean away.
It was my turn to have some surreptitious fun. My hands were hidden below the bar, so I reached inside the long slit of her dress and softly stroked up and down her leg. I began to mimic the movements on her thigh that the woman next us was making on her man's rigid cock. I had every intention of taking it just as far as she might.
I took another sip of my drink at the same time as Sandra. Before she lowered her glass, I pulled her tightly against my now throbbing hard-on and raked my fingernails up along the inside of her thigh until my fingertips reached her naked pussy lips. She gasped and sloshed her drink as I caressed her labia, which were swollen and wet with her excitement. I have always loved how wet and swollen she gets when she is aroused. The wetness of her juices that immediately soaked my fingers made it obvious just how turned on she was.
"Trouble, lover?" I quietly teased. "Having trouble multi-tasking?"
