Sarah's Cuban Vacation

WARNING: I could have fit this story in a few different categories, but left it with the rest of the series here in Exhibitionist and Voyeur.

If the idea of a married couple exploring a mfm threesome turns you off, maybe give this one a pass (to this day, I'm still not even sure if this would be considered a threesome... but the warning stands).

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On our final full day at the Cuban all-inclusive resort, I awoke to voices. My head eventually fought its way through the morning fog to recognize that they belonged to my wife Sarah and her sister Jo, who were discussing yesterday's events.

Jo had come back to the room early due to overindulgence of alcohol, and by the sound of it she had some memory gaps, which was fine by me.

After a week of being cock blocked because we shared a room with Jo that had three single beds, last night's events at our neighbour Marcel's had left my wife Sarah and I to deal with some pent-up sexual napalm.

When we returned to the room to find Jo still passed out, we exploited the opportunity to have an impromptu bedroom rodeo. While we were mid-coitus, Jo sat up in her bed and looked toward us. There was no focus in her eyes, and she didn't make any moves to conceal her nudity as the bed sheets pooled loosely around her waist. The sounds of our passion had disturbed her sleep, but she hadn't risen to full consciousness. I was getting close, so I didn't dare break rhythm and then Sarah started to lift off the bed to meet my thrusts. After a few seconds Jo laid back down and at that point Sarah and I had erupted in simultaneous orgasms.

"Look who's finally awake." Sarah stated, interrupting my reverie. She propped herself up on one elbow and turned to look at me from her bed 6-feet away. "Were you still planning to make a coffee run this morning?"

I cautiously lifted the corner of my bed sheet to confirm what I already suspected. "I'm still naked. After you ladies go out on the patio, I'll grab some shorts and head out."

Jo began to get up, then shrieked and slumped under the covers once again. "I can't go anywhere, I'm naked too!"

"Am I the only one here who doesn't require alcohol to be comfortable in her own skin?" Sarah asked as she crawled out of bed and shamelessly did a full body stretch.

"You do realize that everyone in our little group saw your tits yesterday, right?" Sarah continued.

"Ugh!" Was Jo's regretful reply. "It's slowly coming back to me."

It was also true that Jo had showered in front of me, and we had found her sleeping spread-eagled on top of the covers a couple of times, but apparently Sarah had decided to be gentle while she slowly revealed the details of Jo's blackout day.

"I'll go grab the coffee." Sarah announced as she pulled on a pair of shorts. "That'll give you two some time to figure out a way to end your nude standoff."

Sarah next chose a tank top, but a persistent knocking on the door interrupted her before putting it on.

"Sarah!" called out Marcel from beyond the door.

She smiled, then winked at me before making an exaggerated sashay toward the entrance, the tank-top still clutched in her left hand. When she opened the door, she was only mildly surprised to see Ricky standing beside Marcel. She leaned against the door frame doing nothing to hide the DD rockets that sat proudly on her chest. It was then that she recognized the panicked look on both men's faces.

"There's something wrong with Denis." Marcel explained rapidly. "Bart and Ti-Jean can't get him out of bed."

Sarah ran to her suitcase and grabbed her medical bag. As a member of the health-care community, she carried more than a typical first-aid kit on vacation including a stethoscope and blood-pressure cuff.

She quickly disappeared into the hallway behind the two men with a look of concern plastered across her face, the travel kit dangling from one hand and her shirt still clutched tightly in the other. I was pretty sure that once Sarah started descending the staircase at the end of the hallway, simple physics would remind her of the forgotten garment.

Our door had been left partially ajar so 'the nude standoff' had to end soon. After a quick look toward Jo, I finally relented, and got up to pad across the room and secure the door. When I turned, Jo was focused on my midsection.

"I'm not sure what 'that's' about, but I figure that I should remind you that you're married to my sister." Jo stated matter-of-factly.

I looked down and chuckled. "That's 'morning wood' and it has nothing to do with you... ya perv."

I got dressed, then grabbed Sarah's thermos and headed out the door. I wasn't in a particular rush to get to building 7 since I have no training and would likely just be in the way. However, I figured at some point everyone involved would appreciate their morning coffee, so I headed for the lobby.

When I finally arrived at Denis' room, I found that Jo had managed to beat me there. She was now helping Bart pack Denis' belongings into his suitcase so that he'd be able to catch his flight home.

Denis was in the washroom doing a lot of moaning and groaning, while the rest of our crew was huddled in a discussion on the patio outside. The arrival of coffee was a welcome distraction.

"Is everyone ok with me staying dressed for the coffee delivery?" I inquired sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to screw this up."

"Please do." replied Ti-Jean while partially shielding his eyes.

"Now hold on." Marcel interrupted, holding his hands like a traffic cop. "Need I remind everybody that I'm still owed one more delivery tomorrow? We don't want to set a nasty precedent."

"Duly noted." interrupted Sarah. "This won't affect precedent."

After everyone had poured a cup of java, Sarah brought me up to speed.

"Step one was to confirm that his life wasn't in danger." she began. "Now we're just trying to get him comfortable enough to fly."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked with genuine concern as the moaning persisted.

"I'm not sure." she confessed. "Could be food poisoning or a virus. Could be IBS, colitis, or Crohn's. What I do know is that he's going to endure the longest, most uncomfortable travel day of his life."

The toilet suddenly flushed, and a pale sweaty Denis emerged. He walked hunched over obviously experiencing severe cramps, then laid on the bed and curled into the fetal position.

"I'd kill for a coffee, Brian." he mumbled.

"Water." Sarah suggested holding a hand up to stop me. "You're going to be sharing a couple of washrooms with 300 strangers on the plane Denis. Avoid coffee. Avoid grease. Avoid anything spicy. And no alcohol."

"Those are the four staples of my diet." he complained sadly. "This really does sound like it will be the longest day of my life."

Sarah and I made brief eye contact, but she decided to wait until we were alone later to voice her suspicion that these rules might be the building blocks to the rest of Denis' life.

Ricky and Ti-Jean went back to their rooms to grab their belongings while we helped Denis tote his bags to the lobby.

When their bus finally arrived, Denis was at the front of the queue to get a seat and endure the ride to the airport. While Marcel waited for the driver to stow Denis' bags under the bus, Sarah took Ti-Jean and Ricky aside.

"If he's still feeling like that when you land in Montreal, take him straight to the hospital." she advised, before adding, "But even if he's feeling better, encourage him to make a doctor's appointment."

She gave Ti-Jean a hug before turning to Ricky.

"I thought we were building some momentum with your coffee deliveries." he said with a smirk. "I was counting on today being a very big day."

Sarah had expected Ricky to bring this up. She nodded noncommittally.

"Since the disruption this morning interfered with what we were building toward, I request a do over." he added, thrusting his hand out so that they could shake on the deal.

"Deal!" she replied as she shook his hand. "Just so we're on the same page, this is anal we're talking about, correct?"

There was something too enthusiastic in the way Sarah agreed to his terms that caused Ricky to realize that he had just walked a trap.

"This isn't us we're talking about, is it?" he asked dejectedly.

"Of course not." she admitted. "Denis is responsible for the delay, so he's the guy that owes you something. But I would probably wait until he's feeling better... neither of you would probably enjoy anal in his condition."

Ricky just shook his head in defeat, they exchanged a hug, then he climbed aboard the bus.

We continued to wave until the bus receded into the distance, our little group now reduced to five members. We did breakfast before meeting at the pool to enjoy some sun and booze as we awaited the arrival of Bart's wife, who was coming to spend the next week with him.

When Sophie finally arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. The Quebec guys were all 43-year-old high school buddies, but Bart looked and acted 10 years older than his friends. All week they had taken to referring to him as 'Padre' since he acted like the dad of the group. So, I naturally assumed Sophie would be the mom of the group. Was I ever wrong.

For any Canadian readers I could likely say "she's the prototypical Montreal cougar" and that description would be enough. It's not that she looks 20-years younger (she looked every bit of 43) it's that she looks damn fine wearing those years.

She would look at home walking the red carpet with an aging action star or outside the United Nations on the arm of a world leader. She could wear diamond earrings and a pearl necklace with a business suit or a bikini without either combination seeming to be out of place. Stunning elegance.

Upon getting off the bus she immediately hugged Bart while whispering, "Tu m'as manqué mon amour."

"Ma chérie." he replied softly. Bart would never utter her name in our presence, opting for 'ma chérie' or simply 'cher.'

Next Sophie turned her focus to Marcel, also pulling him into an embrace. "You look good with a little tan Marcie." she complimented, using a nickname none of his buddies had. She spoke in accent free English, which I must confess disappointed me a little.

"This is Jo." Bart said, making the introduction while the hugs continued.

"If she's Jo, that would make you Sarah." Sophie stated when she turned to pull my wife into a hug. "I've heard a lot about you dear."

While still in the embrace, Sarah looked at Bart over his wife's shoulder with a raised eyebrow questioning just how extensive their information transfer had been. Bart hadn't witnessed most of her wildest hijinks, but he had definitely heard firsthand accounts by now.

Marcel gave his buddy a playful punch in the shoulder as a way of letting him know that he had fucked up. This was noticed by Sophie.

"Marcie, you know that Bart and I tell each other everything." she gently scolded, before playfully adding, "Besides, he'd be crazy to trust any secrets to you guys. We all know that it only takes a couple of drinks to get Denis, Ricky, and Ti-Jean to spill more tea than a knitting circle.

"And you must be Brian." she said as I received the final hug. Until this moment I had been rendered awestruck by her natural beauty, but there was nothing natural about the c-cups that were caught between our bodies yet resisted deformation. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Bart helped his wife bring her bags to their room while we waited poolside. After around 45-minutes they returned, and we set out on our adventure.

Earlier in the week I had discovered a semi-abandoned resort farther down the beach that locals refer to as 'the ghost resort.' Although it's no longer opened for guests, the lobby, bar, and pool patio areas are in good enough shape to be used a couple of days a week for new resort workers to practice their craft before seeing actual tourists. We intended to do a little exploring.

Upon arrival we were faced with our first obstacle. The lack of pedestrian traffic between the resort and the beach had resulted in an infestation of spiky bracts similar to burdocks, but with beefier spines. Luckily, we were all carrying flip-flops which we now donned.

The first buildings we reached were the guest rooms which were locked. We weren't here to break into anything, and standard motel rooms aren't all that interesting anyway. Our only curiosity being whether they had emptied the rooms or left the furniture to rot. The presence of drapes on all the windows and patio furniture on the balconies tended to infer the latter scenario. We moved on.

The pool areas also still retained patio furniture, stacked in neat piles, likely used as part of the training sessions that occurred here. We didn't linger in this area due to the odour of the brackish water in the partially filled pool.

We made a similarly brief visit to the buffet restaurant. There was sand on the floor most likely brought in by flooding, while the receding waters had pulled all the tables and chairs into a tangled mess near the entry. Signs of extensive mold growth hurried us along.

Our final stop was in the lobby area. All the furniture had been removed from this open-air portion of the building. Even the sign declaring the resort name was gone, leaving behind a few bare metal anchors, although the strong Caribbean sun had long since bleached the shadows of the letters onto the wall, allowing us to continue to read them.

"Look at this." said Marcel with a touch of awe in his voice. "They removed the staircase used to reach the upper portion."

"I'm not sure 'they' removed it." Bart replied as he studied the empty stairwell. "This was cast in-place concrete. They wouldn't remove those unless they were tearing it all down."

"The storm?" asked Jo.

"I don't know..." Bart slowly answered, his voice drenched in skepticism. "This was a heavy-duty piece of structure... meanwhile the wood and tile reception desk is intact just over there?"

"We came here to explore." Sarah interrupted. "Let's go upstairs and see what secrets are hiding up there."

The rest of the group exchanged shrugs before nodding in agreement.

The missing staircase would be challenging, but it wasn't an insurmountable obstacle. First up was Marcel, who walked into the empty stairwell. Bart and I boosted him high enough to gain a grip, then he pulled himself the rest of the way to the second level.

Next up was Sarah. Again, Bart and I gave her a lift until she could reach Marcel's outstretched hand, then he hoisted her the rest of the way.

Third up was Jo, but when she offered her foot for the expected heave upwards, we noticed that her flip-flop was covered with the burdock-like tufts.

"Those spikes must be some tough to stick into your soles." stated Bart as he walked into the office that was directly opposite the stairwell. "I found a straightedge. Come here and I'll brush them off."

As Jo disappeared into the office to join Bart, movement caught the corner of my eye as I noticed two men approaching our position, pushing a wheelbarrow partially filled with scrap. I couldn't tell if they were employees of the resort or vandals, but I didn't figure it made sense to announce our presence in either scenario.

I hissed out a low warning, "We got company" before grabbing Sophie's hand and leading her to crouch behind the reception desk.

The sound of the wheelbarrow continued through the lobby to the coffee bar where it quieted. Shortly after the sound of a hacksaw announced that they were removing plumbing fixtures. Whether here on official business or not, the recyclers did more talking than working as we realized that we might have to settle in for the long haul.

With two of us trapped in the office and two more cornered at reception, the only people with any modicum of freedom were Sarah and Marcel who were upstairs. While we could see them from our hiding spot, they weren't visible from the scrap men's vantage point.

Sarah and Marcel began teasing us over our predicament, miming being trapped in a box and exaggeratedly tapping their wrists to signify that we were holding them up. With boredom beginning to settle in, Sarah decided to change the mood by untying her bikini top but holding it against her chest.

Although we couldn't see into the office, I assumed that Bart and Jo had a similar view to ours. Sarah looked down at us with an expression full of mischief, then slowly revealed her breasts before tossing her top down to me, a move which luckily went unnoticed by the scrappers.

She turned toward Marcel and bent her elbow so they could link arms, winked down at us, then they walked off, presumably to explore the upstairs while we continued to be pinned down.

"She really does have spectacular tits." Sophie whispered. "Does it bother you that she's topless and alone with Marcie?"

"It wouldn't be the first time this week." I admitted, confident that Bart had shared these details with her already. "I trust her though, if that's what you're asking."

"You have nothing to worry about." she agreed. "After I got my boobs done, Bart let me show them to Marcie and he was a complete gentleman."

My face must have showed some shock because she returned a questioning look. I decided to elaborate, "I didn't think women admitted to having work done."

"Boys brag about their cars or their new golf clubs." she said with a laugh as she gripped her tits and gave them a shake. "After living my entire life without a chest, I'm damn proud of my new accessories."

"Did any of the other guys see them?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"Oh gawd no." she said a little too loudly before lowering her voice again. "Ti-Jean's wife is my best friend. I wouldn't do that to her. Denis... I wouldn't be able to trust him to be discreet. And... well you've met Ricky."

I nodded my head in understanding, but she chose to elaborate regardless, "If he saw them, he'd want to touch them. If he touched them, then he'd want to kiss them. If he kissed them, then he'd want to fuck them. He's incorrigible."

With nothing really to add to that, I offered her a high-five which she accepted, touching hands as quietly as possible.

"What about you?" she inquired. "Have you ever seen fake titties before?"

I glanced down, then returned to looking her in the eyes. "I can see them, so they can't be 'fake' titties."

After an exaggerated eye roll to make light at my attempt at a dad joke, she clarified, "Have you ever seen surgically enhanced boobs."

"Not that I'm aware of." I answered truthfully. "But I've never asked for authentication papers before either."

"Would Sarah be mad if I showed you mine?" Sophie asked.

"She wouldn't expect me to claw my eyes out to avoid seeing them." I offered, before adding, "She might even appreciate a viewing herself... for scientific purposes."

We held eye contact as Sophie slowly worked her bikini top to the sides and released her medical miracles. After a moment of hesitation, I was the first to glance away, in search of her freshly exposed treasures.

They were teardrop shaped c-cups that seemed to be sized appropriately for her slight frame. At the focal point of each was a pink, cone-shaped nipple that resembled a thimble or perhaps a small strawberry. I'd seen photos of similar specimens, but this was my first personal encounter. She did have areolas, but they were only slightly larger than their centerpiece.

I was nodding my head slowly in appreciation of this gift when her abrupt statement caught me off guard.

"We paid extra for the implants that feel natural to the touch."

My focus immediately snapped back to her face as I searched for the meaning behind those words. I didn't want to overstep my bounds, especially coming so soon after her ridiculing how Ricky would potentially try to escalate a similar situation. But this was certainly an invitation... wasn't it? If not, it was definitely 'heavily flirtatious'.