Something compelled me to get a better look at the couple that had just arrived at the hotel poolside. They looked different from other couples around: they looked to be in their mid-twenties, in the prime of their lives, so much in love from the way they held hands like they didn't want to lose each other, even though there wasn't a crowd in sight.
The other couples mingling around were middle-aged to mature, all sparely separated from each other; only two appeared in a group, and it was mostly the wives chattering and laughing while sipping cocktails while their husbands drank beer and appraised the people gathered around the pool, including myself. I can understand why several eyes glanced in my direction for two reasons: I was the only black man around (or maybe I was thinking way ahead of myself), and the other reason was the T-shirt I was wearing. The T-shirt bore my merchandise brand, MASTER SHANGO, written in bold letters for anyone to see. Possibly, several had gotten on their phones and Google-searched the name, only to be astounded by what it revealed. That was enough to make me happy about this holiday trip.
The woman was blonde, had a good-looking body--well proportioned--with protruding tits and ass underneath her swimsuit. Her husband was brown-haired and had a Califonia sunniness about him, except for a slight pudgy tummy inching over his trunks. They made it to their lounge chairs, and the husband adjusted the large umbrella above their head to shield the sun's heat.
I decided to take another dip in the pool's inviting water. I removed my shirt, laid it on my chair, adjusted my trunks, and then jumped into the deep end. The water felt great. I broke to the surface, wiped water off my face, and swarmed to the opposite end and back. The youthful couple sat under their umbrella, and later, the wife stood up and entered the pool. I did several laps before climbing out and returning to my chair while running my towel over my face. The blonde continued her swim. I thought I spied her looking towards me, but I might have been wrong.
I hung my towel over my shoulder and went to the outdoor bar beside the pool area to get a drink. I wasn't bothered about the time--I could have been there for another hour before returning to my suite; I was with myself on the trip. I was concentrating on what was on a T.V. screen when someone came and sat beside me. The person ordered a drink, then tapped my elbow to inquire if I would care for another. I turned and saw it was the blonde's husband.
He introduced himself as Mark. His wife's name was Caitlin; they were newlyweds, and this was the start of their honeymoon.
"Congratulations," I made a toast with him. "Here's to more sunshine and less rain in your marriage."
Mark laughed. "Yeah, thanks. That's part of what brought us here, the wonderful sunshine. How long have you been here?"
"Going four days," I said. "I have another week left, and then I'm hopping on a plane back to the city. So far, it's been fun."
"Sounds like what I've heard about you and your exploits is true, then."
I asked him, "What exploits are we talking about?"
The sly look on Mark's face told me enough about what he meant. For me, coming to this island paradise hadn't merely been to escape the city. A couple had invited me to spend quality fun with them at this hotel, where they owned a time-share suite. The wife craved some sexual encounters and desired someone capable of manhandling her in bed. I accomplished my deed, and before I knew it, another middle-aged couple caught my attention, and then I got to bed the second wife, even shared her with the first. The invitee couple decided to return to the city but allowed me to remain in their suite until I needed to leave. Mark had inquired about someone like me, which accounted for his approach.
