Hot Tub Competition

I have no clue whose idea it was. It was our fourth day on vacation at the adults-only, clothing optional Caribbean resort for couples that we'd enjoyed in the past. We loved the sexually charged, open and friendly atmosphere there. We'd partied late into the night, lounged naked on the beach beds, and luxuriated in each other all throughout the first part of our week-long vacation to this tropical, carnal paradise. We'd booked our trip with a large group of "lifestylers" (a.k.a. swingers) that we knew from past travels there, even though we weren't into swinging. We'd been very open about that, and everybody that we'd met in the group respected our monogamy. In fact, there were many others in the group that didn't participate in swinging. That hadn't in any way slowed down our fun or diminished our enjoyment of the open sexuality at the resort. That afternoon we were in the oversized hot tub at the roof-top Jacuzzi lounge with a large group of revelers, drinking and socializing naked, as was the custom.

"It's the blow job competition," I heard over the din of the crowd. "All the guys sit on the edge of the hot tub over there," Renee, one of the hosts of the party group, shouted, trying to herd as many men as possible to the far edge of the tub.

You looked sideways at me as if questioning whether or not I was going to participate, and not sure if you wanted me to. Renee poked at me, encouraging me to join in. I saw you lean over and say something to her. After all the drinks we had consumed, I wasn't surprised that I could hear her answer you loudly over the sound of the music.

"Don't worry. It can just be you and him," she said.

You smiled and shoved me toward the participants. "Get your ass over there!" you ordered.

"Here's how it works," Renee began. "Guys sit on the edge of the hot tub. You can lean against the glass if you want to...or need to." There was a wall of glass next to the edge of the tub, and anybody standing on the pool deck below looking up, could have easily seen our bare asses plastered up against the clear barrier. "You pick a partner, or partners, to give you a blow job. Whoever finishes first, wins." She added with a smile on her face, "You also get extra points for style."

"Hey, I think whoever finishes first LOSES!" someone shouted, and we all laughed.

Truth be told, most of us guys were over fifty. After four days of nonstop partying and daily, or more often, sex, it was unlikely that any of us were going to "finish" quickly.

"If you want to switch partners, you can, as often as you like," Renee said. "And absolutely no splashing ANYTHING in the pool," she said with emphasis, finishing the rules.

"So what is 'style'?" another voice called out.

Renee smiled again. "That's up to you. But we'll be the judge of that," she declared waving her arm toward a large audience standing behind her, in the bubbling water.

I sat on the edge of the tub next to a guy named Steve. You stood directly in front of me, your hands resting possessively on my knees. I had no idea who was in front of Steve, but I knew it wasn't his wife.

"When I say go, you may begin," Renee made her final announcement.

Everyone took a final swig of their drinks, and rolled their shoulders theatrically preparing to give, or receive, their best blow job. We all laughed.

"Go!" Renee shouted.

The crowd watching went crazy, cheering and hollering as more than fifteen women dropped their heads into the laps of the fifteen guys lined up at the edge of the hot tub. The collective moan from us men could easily be heard over the crowd and the music. I'm sure that mine was one of the loudest.

You have always given me the best blow jobs imaginable, and that day I felt your enthusiasm for the competition. You had both hands wrapped around my cock, which was already rigid, but seemed to still be growing as you swirled your tongue over the head and up and down the shaft. The feeling was incredible. The whole situation felt positively surreal. There I was getting a blow job in a large group, on display, and being "scored" by a cheering crowd.

Next to me, two women switched off servicing Steve, who was slouched back against the glass smiling, obviously lost in bliss. Looking down the line of guys I could see some with two women going down on them at the same time, some sitting bolt upright holding their woman's hair, others were leaning back in seeming leisure, sipping on a drink. One women had a cock in her mouth and the cocks of the two guys beside her in each hand holding it for the women sucking. There was even one women sitting in the line-up on the edge of the tub getting her own "blow job" from another women. It was unbelievable.

The crowd continued to cheer loudly, alternating their chants between "Go, go, go!", "Blow, blow, blow!" and "Suck, suck, suck!" It was erotic and hilarious, and most us couldn't help laughing at least a little despite the carnal distraction of either giving or getting oral sex.

At one point Renee yelled "Time out!" and tequila shots were handed out to everybody in the competition. We all quickly downed our shots before Renee's shouted "Time in!" and you re-launched your oral efforts with extra vigor. I knew you had a competitive streak in you, but I had no idea that it extended into the venue of team oral sex.

"It looks like it's gonna be close," I heard someone shout over the cheers.

I was having a hard time focusing on anything except the sensations you were triggering in my cock. All I could do was hang on, and try to keep from sliding off the edge of the hot tub as you pumped me furiously, your mouth riding up and down the length of my aching cock in sync with your hands.

"It's gonnna be them," another person shouted.

"No, no...them," a different voice penetrated the sound of the crowd and the blood pounding in my ears. I was on the edge. I felt my balls surging. I was about to cum.

We never knew who came in first. Was it you, did you come in second, or was it a tie? As far as I was concerned, I definitely won when I exploded with a loud groan as you continued to suck furiously pulling every drop of cum out of me.

Just as soon as you finished with me, you jumped up and down, your hands raised up over your head in victory, your naked breasts swaying back and forth. You had a big smile on your face that let a small dribble of my white semen trickle down your chin. The crowd was going wild, clapping and shouting their approval. Some were pointing at you, others at another women down the line doing the same thing. I felt hands slapping me on the back in congratulations, and someone thrust a drink into my hand. My heart was still pounding as I caught my breath and pointed at you saying, "It was all her, not me."

You had your own crowd of admirers congratulating you and pushing drinks at you. I could see a similar scene playing out with the other "winning" couple, while most of the other blow job participants continued on, albeit less aggressively than before.

I gathered you in my arms, smiling and hugging you tightly to me. With one finger, I cleaned my cum off your chin. Before I could do anything else, you grabbed my hand. I knew what you wanted ... extra style points. With a smile you shoved my dripping finger into my mouth. I responded, dramatically and enthusiastically sucking my own finger clean. The crowd around us shouted their approval and redoubled their cheers. We smiled at each other, gave ourselves a high-five, and kissed deeply. We were both winners.