We had left the curtains on our patio door open overnight, so I awoke at sunrise on our first morning in Cuba. I put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed a thermos and 3 towels, and headed for the beach.
There I located 3 lounge chairs under a tiki hut and reserved them by clipping our towels to them with large plastic clothespins.
My next stop was the 24-hour snack bar where I had the thermos filled with Cuban coffee.
When I arrived back at our room, I found my wife Sarah and her sister Jo sitting on the balcony.
Sarah is 32 years old with DD tits on an hourglass frame. She is flirtatious, the life of every party and occasionally experiences moments of what we've began to call "Que sera, Sarah", which basically means 'I'm about to be seen naked because it's mildly inconvenient to avoid that outcome.'
Her sister Jo is less than 17-hours from turning the big four-oh. She is also flirtatious but is very modest when it comes to her body. In the 12 years I've known her, I've never had a peek of any skin. I did learn through her ex-boyfriend who had experienced an episode of 'Que sera, Sarah' that the sisters had identical boobs. While Jo doesn't flash her own body, she seems to live vicariously through Sarah's occasional exhibitionism, often orchestrating events that lead there.
"Coffee!" I announced.
"I'm going to need this." said Jo, "I'm glad I called it an early night. I don't know how you two are going to function on 3-hours sleep."
"Function? We're going to be laying on a beach, not conducting brain surgery." replied Sarah. "I wonder if Marcel wants a coffee?"
"You don't think he made it deep sea fishing?" I asked.
"Only one way to find out." Sarah said as she walked toward the concrete balustrade railing separating our balcony from Marcel's. She was still wearing the nightgown from last night that had side slits that reached from below her knee to the bottom of her ribcage.
Without Marcel on the other side to help her across, I boosted her up so she could sit on the railing, then she lifted her legs and pivoted around until she was facing his side of the balcony. Once again, the front portion of her nightgown stayed hooked on our side of the railing, leaving her pussy exposed. "Apparently a little exposure is the cost of crossing this railing." she remarked.
Sarah walked across his balcony and knocked on the patio door. When nobody answered, she shaded her eyes to peek through a gap in the curtains.
"By the fuck, he's up and gone." she exclaimed, "I didn't think he'd make it on a little over an hour's sleep...basically a nap."
Jo picked up her phone, "I'll get a picture to show him how concerned you were."
Sarah posed, then said "Wait a sec, pass me two coffee mugs."
I handed her two mugs, then she went back to the door. She paused to consider how to stage the photo, then smiled to herself.
She set the mugs on the patio table, then stretched the neck of her nightgown to free both of her boobs. Picking up the mugs, she walked back to the door and pressed her boobs against the glass. She shifted her weight to her right leg so her left leg extended farther through the side slit than before, baring half of a buttock.
Finally, she turned her head toward the camera and put on a disappointed pouty face. Then Jo snapped the photo. Since she had Marcel's contact info from when he coached her son's football team, she sent it to him in a text, with the caption 'Sorry you missed our morning coffee."
Sarah noticed that she had left impressions of her boobs and nipples in the grime on the glass door and set the mugs back down to brush her tits clean before tucking them back into her nightgown. She left the window as it was, curious to see if Marcel would notice.
We all got dressed for the beach before heading out. Sarah chose a green one-piece that has removable straps. After modeling it in front of a mirror, she chose to wear it strapless. It's not unusual for her cleavage to progress from mild to spicy in this swimsuit before she has to inevitably readjust.
Jo chose a pink bikini that complimented her body very well, while maintaining her modesty.
The beach day slid past quietly without Marcel's gang. It's funny how a chance encounter at the airport had changed the dynamic of our vacation so swiftly.
As we left the beach we walked past the lower pool and noticed that the swim-up bar was closing for the day. We climbed the steps to the upper pool and the 24-hour snack bar.
"Let's stop for a drink with Carlos and Guillermo." Sarah said, speaking of the bartenders we had talked to the night before.
"Go ahead." replied Jo, "I'll go to the room ahead of you so I can shower in privacy." We had noticed the previous night that the showers at this resort were just a spray head and a floor drain located between the bathroom and the bedroom without so much as a shower curtain.
After Jo left Sarah approached the bar to talk to Carlos. "Hola Carlos."
"Hola mi amor." he replied.
"Tomorrow is my sister's birthday. I was just wondering if it was ok for me to hang a banner and a few balloons at the swim-up bar?"
"Of course. Do you have them with you?" he inquired.
"Yup." she replied, opening her beach bag to show him the materials she had kept hidden from her sister all day.
"Follow me." he said, motioning for us to come around behind the bar.
The bar had a back door which exited into a hallway. To the left the hallway headed toward the employee entrance of the 'snack' section of the 24-hour snack-bar. There visitors could get hot dogs, pita bread pizzas, grilled cheese sandwiches or French fries at all hours.
To the right the hallway led to a set of stairs. We descended into the basement which contained a food storage area and an alcohol storage area. There was also a door for employees to access the swim-up bar, which we now used.
The swim-up bar is a near mirror copy of the snack-bar upstairs, except for shutters that are pulled across when the bar is closed, as it now was.
Sarah and I each inflated balloons while Carlos busied himself in the storeroom across the hall gathering bottles and kegs to restock the snack-bar upstairs. When we had finished, we both climbed onto the bar to hang the 'Happy Birthday Jo-Jo' sign. Then we started tying balloons to the ceiling.
When Carlos' task was complete, he came to pass balloons to us. After 3 or 4, I noticed that he had stopped handing balloons to me. I looked over to see if we were done and noticed what Carlos already had: that after constantly working with her hands over her head, Sarah's strapless swimsuit had started working its way down her chest.
Already her right nipple was exposed, and her left areola was just starting to show hints of its existence. She hadn't made eye contact with either of us, but the coy smile on her face revealed her knowledge of the developing situation.
The swimsuit had been making slow and gradual progress when Sarah suddenly tied a string to a balloon and tugged vigorously to tighten the knot. The gentle sway of her breasts was too much for the remaining inches of fabric that were holding them, and her boobs gently popped free.
Now realizing that her supply of balloons had dried up, she lowered her hands to her hips and playfully commented, "It's like neither of you have ever seen a boob before?"
