Erotic Exotic Central America Trip

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This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to actual locations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All characters are 18 or older.

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This husband eagerly awaits her return so he can hear

all about her sexploits. When she travels, he encourages her to be adventurous. He gets off knowing she might find an erotic encounter. His imagination runs wild and loves her stories, with all the details. She loves how he responds. A mutually satisfying kink.

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On a regular basis she would travel alone,

leaving the husband and kids behind. And he was fine with that. She had more of an urge to travel that he. He was happy to give her time to do what she loved and get some time away from the routine and demand of work and family. The kids by this time weren't really a problem. They were in high school and fairly independent and self sufficient. He made sure they finished homework, folded clothes and were home by eight on school nights.

After two kids and virtually no exercise program, she was a very attractive woman in her mid-forties. A slim B cup, cute ass and fabulous legs were the mental picture he described for himself. On the odd times they managed to get out for a movie and dinner, he always kept one eye on her and another on the men around them. While not overtly sexy, any man with a pulse could not help but follow her movements through a room.

During a Bahamas vacation just after she turned forty, he couldn't help notice she had caught the eye of some college guys at the pool. With a white and red string bikini wrapped in a matching sarong, she had peaked their attention. He was jealous of their attention. Bordering on anger. "She's mine," he would think, "How crass to look at my wife that way."

But on that trip, during a snorkeling charter he evolved. Perhaps becoming more open, liberal in his thoughts. It wasn't that he was less possessive but strangely he came to see what they saw. Her fine figure in a tight one piece with a deep V in front highlighted her attributes. He saw the men on the charter try to be unobtrusive watching her climb the ladder back into the boat. For lack of a better explanation, he was flattered that his wife was still a head turner.

He began to realize that he actually felt pride in his wife; that she attracted such attention. It confirmed his own view of her. That she was sexy. Provocative in an understated way and very desirable. He was no longer insecure that her looks provoked attention.

Perhaps her age had given her a different kind of self confidence. Instead of lamenting turning forty, she claimed it. She added a new motion to how she walked. She knew eyes followed her as she walked. The eyes saw how she sat, crossed her legs and how many buttons on her blouse were undone. He took their appreciative looks now for just that: appreciation. Yes, and sometimes lust. He wondered if there would come a day when men, other men, would no longer notice her. It was a thought that was hard to imagine.

She had traveled to Mexico several times but never to Central America so when Guatemala popped up on her computer she jumped at it. Sometimes her travel bug just controlled her. The discussion about her going alone had been brief, as usual. "Of course. Go. Have a great time." He meant every word. Besides, most of Central America was not on his bucket list. He also reasoned that in a few years, when the house was empty, they would probably go together and she could show him the sights.

"Guatemala is a hot, jungle country," she thought, "and the tour will stay in a couple of beach hotels." These thoughts should help her pack, but they really didn't. Packing was a series of choices, second guessing, unpacking and repacking. Eventually the bag was down to a reasonable weight. Shoes were always a challenge. Weight verses options verses style. Underwear was another series of choices. Utilitarian? Sexy? Comfortable with a little sexy? Long ago she discovered wearing certain underwear, even if no one ever saw them, made her feel warm, wanted, and desirable during the day.

She really didn't need that at work. Even with the most professional attire, men, and some women, recognized that under the jacket and the man tailored shirt was a very attractive woman. Some days she found it an impossible conflict between being objectified and sexually stimulated.

For the trip she packed a few of each style figuring it would suit her mood. Besides, they are small and don't add any real weight. Swim suits were another thing. She settled on two. A sweet body hugging one piece black with high hip cut outs and a series of string laces in the front. The laces could loosen or tighten to show more or less cleavage.

The second was a blue and white bikini with string ties around the neck and on each side of the bottoms. The ties on the bottoms meant the side view of her was uninterrupted from her feet to her shoulders except for two thin strings. Very daring. Her husband loved that bikini. He loved to see her in it. Both of them loved the reactions it created among the men at the pool. They could not hide their looks. There was just no way they could pretend not to drink in every curve of her body as she walked along the edge of the pool. He loved watching their faces. The added attention turned him on. It turned her on. Sex later that night was more intense as he thought of other men craving her and she thought of being fucked raw by a stranger.

She thought it might be a bit over the top, but figured the floral pattern sarong and the terry beach robe would provide modesty enough. Packing complete she went back to the tour itinerary and documents that came with the tickets including a list of fellow travelers.

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Departure day came and he took off from work

to get her to the airport. She wore something comfortable for traveling. Shoes that came off easily, casual slacks and maroon shell with an unstructured cream jacket over. As usual, he complemented her on her looks, wished her a fun trip, gave her a wink and kissed her at the curb luggage drop.

She returned the kiss with a bit of tongue, squeezed his ass and reminded him to send the dancing girls home by midnight. They both laughed and she was on her way.

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The flight was non-stop to Guatemala City

and uneventful. The flight was packed. There were the usual crying babies, lots of tourists and several couples in various age ranges. One of the games she and her husband often played was making up stories about the people they were watching. Generally the stories were quick observations, 'He doesn't want to be on this trip.' 'She's wondering if she left clothes in the washer.' 'These two are married, but not to each other.' 'She's not wearing any underwear.' 'They've been married too long and he went bi because she'll only fuck him once a month.'

And that's how it would go. The made up observations quickly devolved into lurid back stores. Each taking turns building on the previous comment. Usually this story telling resulted in hot sex that night as each had their own fantasy running.

The first evening was the traditional welcome cocktail and introductions all around. It was a small group, only twenty. An even number but four single women, including herself, and two single men.

She was widely traveled, more than forty countries and counting. Some for business and some with tour groups. She sized up the group gauging experience levels. Which were tourist and which were travelers. She knew enough to look for tell tale signs. Like an ankle bracelet with an upside down pineapple. Skin color difference where a wedding band should be. There were several couples. Two couples in their late twenties or very early thirties appear to be the youngest travelers. Two of the women, probably in their mid-fifties, were traveling together and sharing a room. The other single female was highly finished and could be anywhere from fifty to sixty-eight she thought. Others appeared to be at least 60 or more.

The two single men were traveling alone. Both appeared in their late fifties she guessed. After the welcome drinks and briefing there was the welcome dinner. It was a long table, ten to a side. It seemed obvious to her that the women rooming together had decided to make a play for the two single men. The guys were probably ten to twelve years older than the women. Normally women traveling alone in that age bracket hunted for younger specimens. On this trip they had to settle for age and possibly experience. She became amused at the banter between the women and the men. She began to silently engage in the story telling she and her husband enjoyed. Her imagination soon degraded into a lurid story of sex, light bondage, the women swapping men and too much drinking.

The other single female was difficult to read. Lesbian accountant was the first thought. No, her travel clothes all bespoke a fashion statement. At least she wore sensible shoes for walking primitive streets. She considered her during the greeting social hour. Very attractive or well preserved, depending on how you look at it. She hovered with a knot of other travelers listening to the conversations but not engaging. "Shy? I sincerely doubt that," she thought.

The wine with dinner must have gone to her head early because she was startled out of her fantasy world when the man next to her asked a question a second time. He made casual traveler conversation with her. Where are you from? Have you traveled much? My name is Eric by the way. His wife was engaged in conversation with the couple across the table.

He seemed very interest in everything she said. He offered to pour more wine for her in a charming sort of way. She tilted her head and swept a strand of hair behind her ear. She sized him up. Probably late twenties. Basic haircut. Loose fitting short sleeve fishing shirt. Untucked. Helped to hide the spreading mid-drift that was beginning to show.

For a moment she felt lucky. Her husband belonged to a gym. He ate right and fought off middle age spread. Her husband was quite handsome. And as much as he enjoyed watching the reaction of men to his wife, she secretly enjoyed how women of a certain age would give her husband a second look as well. He did, after all, have a very nice ass.

After dinner there wasn't much to do except meet at the bar and socialize. The guide had warned them that although the resort hotel grounds were very safe and guarded; it wasn't a good idea to venture into the surrounding streets after dark. She went back to the room changed into shorts, sandals and a burgundy tee shirt and checked her email quickly. A couple work emails and one from hubby. She let him know she arrived safe and that the group, so far, felt congenial. Then she headed down to the bar.

As expected, the two single women had cornered the two single men and were already hitting it off. Eric, the man who sat next to her at dinner, was with his wife and another couple. He waved her over.

"Hey, have a seat," he gestured to the chair next to him. "This is my wife Jill and this is Rebecca and Robert."

He slid an empty stem glass over and filled it with white wine. She joined in the conversation with people who were all obviously seasoned travelers. In between she surveyed the others in the group and a few stray tourists.

Eric was a good listener and tried to keep her in the conversation by asking her questions that would keep her engaged. At one point he placed a hand on her knee to bring her attention back. She jumped.

"Oh, sorry," he said and withdrew his hand quickly. "You just seemed to be someplace else."

"Oh, yea, I guess travel has caught up to me. Plus a good meal and wine," she raised her glass as in a toast.

The conversation was wide ranging and almost stimulating, but she was still scanning the others in the group. Alcohol and travel fatigue was setting in and she returned to the game of making up imaginary back stories for each traveler and couple. She decided one couple, with expensive travel attire, hadn't had passionate sex in twenty years. Another couple in their forties she thought might be on a honeymoon. Possibly second marriages for both.

Then there were the two single men who appeared captivated by the two women traveling together. Business people she decided. One was in sales she concluded from his gift for gab and easy going socializing. The other was harder to figure. Each time her gaze returned to him she had a different take. A different back story. She found him to be magnetic.

************

After two nights in the first hotel, the group

traveled by bus down the coast to a beach side hotel with a few cultural stops along the way. Eric caught up with her at one of the stops and invited her to join him and his wife along with Rebecca and Robert for dinner. She agreed but on reflection thought it might be a little weird.

Dinner was in the hotel and part of the tour package. Attached to the hotel was a beach bar with a DJ and a dance floor. During dinner they all agreed to adjourn there for the evening.

Before dinner she changed from her touring clothes into a pleated skirt that packed well and didn't show wrinkles along with a scoop neck, form fitting deep blue shell. Over that she wore a light weight nylon blouse partially buttoned. Packing shoes is always a challenge for women travelers and she was no exception. In spite of traveling to dozens of countries, choice of shoes was an agonizing subject. She picked a neutral pair that had reasonable three inch heels suitable for dancing.

She checked herself in the wardrobe mirror, turned to see how the heels accentuated the tone of her legs. Her husband always admired her legs. He told her it was a tough choice between what he admired most; her legs or her breasts. She smiled at that and hiked the skirt up another inch or two. She bent over the desk and checked her email.

The usual clutter and a couple short notes from her husband. Something about house insurance rate going up. One asking of she was enjoying the tour. Last asking if she had met anyone "interesting" in quotes followed by a leering smiley face. She chuckled at that and clicked out a fast reply:

'Heading to dinner and dancing. No prospects but early in trip. Lv U,'

with a leering emoji. Send.

Dinner was amazingly congenial, full of conversation and laughter. According to plan they adjourned to the club and found a round corner booth. Others from the tour slowly drifted in as well, including the two single women and, predictably, the only two single men. The fourth single woman had fallen in with two other couples at another table.

The music was a great mix of seventies dance tunes and more recent club sounds, known as House Music. Anyone over forty tended to dance to the seventies mix and anyone younger filled the floor to the newer music. She had a blast. She loved to dance. Always did. After several fast numbers, Eric pulled her in for a slow dance. He was a great slow dancer. He took a firm lead on their moves.

She thought to herself how nice his hands felt on her waist. He moved one slowly up her back. She wondered if he was looking for a bra strap. "You're not going to find one," she said to herself.

It was a pleasant time after dinner. She watched how much she drank and switched partners at every invitation. Eric and Robert danced with her with no visible jealousy from their wives. In fact when she returned to the table Eric's wife, Jill complemented her for keeping up with her husband.

Eric headed to the bar for another round of drinks while Rebecca and Robert continued dancing. "Eric loves to dance, and you gave him a run for his money," she said. "It was fun to see how much he was enjoying you."

"Thanks for the loan," she replied, leaning into Jill to be heard over the music.

"Oh sure," Jill said. "Don't look now but the better looking of the two single guys is headed this way."

Ignoring Jill's advice, she turned to see him approach. She couldn't help but notice him on day one. The magnetic one. And now, only three days into the trip, she couldn't avoid watching him. He wasn't tall, probably five ten, but he carried himself well. He was trim, probably works out she thought. She couldn't very well look away now. She was drawn to how he walked. She was drawn to his broad shoulders, how the shirt hugged his chest, the angular face and neat, close cropped jet black beard.

He nodded at Jill as he arrived at the booth. "We haven't formally been introduced. I'm Jacob," he said as he extended his hand to Jill first then to her. "I'm admiring your moves, would you like to dance?"

With a line like that, how could she refuse? In the moment when he shook Jill's hand, she studied his face. He must have had a $200 haircut. Just along the temples and above his ears was a scattering of gray. Even his beard, now that he was closer, had a bit of salt beginning to show. He wore a pale blue, very light weight, tailored sports coat with a pocket square no less. The well fitting white dress shirt was open to the second button. His smile was soft, warm and not forced. He was totally at ease with himself. She found that very sexy. Next, his eyes. Deep, dark pupils. When he looked at you, it was like a drill into your soul. "Best not to make eye contact too much with this guy," she thought.

"Of course, love to." She eagerly accepted another opportunity to enjoy the music.

Dancing with him was divine. A fast number dancing jitterbug style made the night. Eric was good, but this guy was off the charts good. He moved like a professional. They easily transitioned to a slow dance and she was captivated. He did everything just right. She didn't want the music to end.

"You need to sit?" Jacob asked as the DJ started slow number.

"Na huh," was about all she could say as she settled her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. She was thrilled to have a partner who could lead. Effortless gliding with a sensation of being an inch off the floor. She liked how his hands moved around her waist and up her back. Unlike Eric, it didn't feel like he was examining her. His touch was light but firm, if that's possible. The fabric of his shirt was different. Not really silk, not really cotton. She allowed herself the guilty pleasure of inhaling his smell.

As they turned, he asked the normal "getting to know you" questions. It never occurred to her to ask the same questions in return. He was distracting.

"Jacob, your shirt feels wonderful," she said.

"Really?" she thought. "Here's a very handsome and interesting man and that's all you can come up with?"

"It's Egyptian cotton. I had several made when I was in Egypt a few years back," he responded. "They're excellent for warm weather travel."

She had traveled to Egypt twice and that launched them into what could have been a protracted discussion when the music stopped.

The presence next to them was one of the single women. "Hi. I was about to ask if I could cut in," she said. "I'm Emily by the way," and extended a hand.

"Oh, I should probably get back to my crew over there anyway. Hey, Jacob, thanks for the dance. We'll catch up on Egypt later."

"Absolutely," Jacob called over his shoulder as Emily locked on to his bicep and moved him away.

"Wow, you two made quite a couple out there," Eric said when she returned to the table. He slid the fresh drinks across the table. Rebecca and Robert returned at the same time from the floor.