Here We Are
Julianne and I were mesmerized by the taste of our mudslides that the bartender had just whipped up for us. It's like a chocolate shake, but lighter, but also spiked with something, not sure what, that gives it an extra kick.
Before we took our first sips though, I had to carry the mudslides in plastic cups from the bar through a thick party crowd of others, holding the cups up high and upright so they wouldn't spill. It's a tricky thing to maneuver through this crowd with your hands held high, because you have to sort of glide your body through what you
think
is a very narrow channel between people, but it's hard to say for sure because the warm spa water rises up to our hips and the bubble jets further obfuscate exactly what is underwater.
And because we were all totally bare-ass naked, and everyone in the spa was having a loud fun time, it's not like maneuvering through a dense cocktail party in someone's home where at least you can mumble "excuse me, coming through, coming through, pardon me". Here, at this nudist resort, trying to slither my way through a fuckherd of Swingers meant a high likelihood that my naked body was going to press and slide itself among the slippery flesh of others. And if we jump to the point, it's more as if my penis was going to be the one pressing and sliding itself against who knows what body parts. Maybe even some in various states of engorgement.
And if I'm being honest, the feel of all that slippery, fleshy, mystery contact against my cock was triggering its own state of engorgement, further exasperating the situation. It was like I was a walking Divining Rod cutting through the crowd and because I was holding the cups over my head, I couldn't use my hands to shield the expanding rod and press it downwards as in "down, boy. That's it, just relax."
Finally, I found my way to Julianne and handed her a mudslide and together we clinked in cheers to our very first Taste Of The Mudslide that year. We've been coming to this fancy Cancun resort every year (except during the pandemic and let us not speak of that again) and this trip was our fifth. We took our first sip and rolled our eyes back together at the first taste of that chocolate'y cold slush.
When Julianne's eyes readjusted, she looked down through the jet-bubbles at our waists and even they couldn't hide the Loch Ness monster aroused between my legs. She gently grabbed and stroked it while saying "Well, well, look who came out to join us."
How best to describe Julianne? Do you got a few days because, believe me, I could fill every minute talking about her beautiful eyes and her contagious smile, a one-two punch that disarms even the grumpiest get-off-my-lawn'er. Her eyes are like a religious experience, and that's coming from an atheist. In another life, she would be a nurse in a M*A*S*H unit, soothing the wounded. And for the unluckiest, she would gift them with the last thing they'll ever see: her eyes, giving them "that look", the kind of adoring and sympathetic look that people say, "find somebody who looks at you that way, and marry them."
I know, nice way to bring everything down with a soldier's death scene in the middle of a sex story. But we had to go through that to explain that she was giving me "that look" while we were naked in the spa, feeling the tropical air, drinking mudslides amongst all the other nakeds, while she was stroking me and I had my arm around her waist, squeezing her most wonderful ass.
This resort appeals to swingers, which we are not. But it also appeals to nudists who enjoy the charge of pro-sex that is in the air. We enjoy watching the various couples, three-pules and more-somes that can spontaneously show up on the surrounding beds after the sun goes down. It's lovely scenery and as a travel destination, it beats looking at castles for me.
And as for looking, well, that's kind of the point when you mix voyeurs and naked exhibitionists together in the same spa, everybody getting off the way they choose to. But still, there's also this courtesy of looking-but-not-staring, which I instinctively understand on paper, but it makes no sense in real-life. Give 'em what they want: the six people pile-on who are all jittering like an over-caffeinated jackhammer, the men manly thrusting like they're goddamn Marines, and the women's tits all bouncing like Grandma's Fruity Jello Mold in an earthquake, all making porny groans and escalating cries of "fuck fuck Fuck FUCK!"; they're putting on quite the show in front of everyone in the spa that it seems a little nuts to believe that you shouldn't want to stare because that would, gasp, deny them their privacy. Staring would also deny them what they're getting off to, fucking in front of others. It's complicated, looking-but-not-staring, and it's for this reason that I don't bring binoculars into the spa.
But it's also fair to say that my imagination, coupled with a handful of past experiences that were quite very real and not imagined where Julianne and I brought a man to our bed, has fueled the erotic Charge of Possibility of being with another couple for the first time.
"The problem, though with a couple," I was explaining to Julianne, "was that with three people we are this congealed unit of sexual mass. Well, maybe 'congealed" is a nasty term. But what I mean to say is that with three it's easier for all involved to be constantly together, all hands-on deck as it were, where it's fingers and lips and kisses and strokes all the time on all three people." Just like Julianne and I were stroking each other's bodies while we were talking.
"Versus with four," I continued while stroking that fine line on her lower back where her ass crack begins, sliding down to her asshole and then back. "... where the math of the thing makes it so easy for the four to become two sets of two. Like cell division where the four individual thingees split into two cells of two thingees each. And then it seems less like we're all four together, experiencing it together and looking after each other and listening to each other, but instead, it's more like we got two adjoined resort rooms with a wall between us..."
"From an engineering perspective, you're exactly right" said the man next to us who had overheard us talking. "Sorry for butting in. I'm Joe and this is my wife, Carly." We all waved to each other, Julianne and I introduced ourselves, and we raised our drinks in a toast.
Joe continued, "It's like a stool. Ever notice that on an uneven floor, a three-legged stool is way sturdier than a four-legged one? The four-legged one wobbles."
Julianne jumped in with "Because the center of gravity between three legs is easier to balance than between four legs!"
"Correcto!" declared Joe and he clink-cheers Julianne's cup with his.
Carly, Joe's wife, interjects, "So wait wait wait - let me understand. We travelled over a thousand miles to get here and still my husband zeroes in on the only two other geeks that are here?" And we all laughed, heartily, at that one.
"Cheers again," I raised my mudslide. "To the geeks" and we all clicked our cups.
We each went around and explained our own personal odyssey of Geekdom. I said I wrote software. Julianne spoke of her financial and legal geek-prowess while also admitting to being an Apple fanboy. Carly explained she was a geologist by training and gravitated to a Stanford University project building early-detection warnings for earthquakes that would blast out a warning to the effected population. Joe said he was a city planner because what else can you do with an Electrical Engineering degree.
Damn. Together, we were an overhead-projector of Serious Geeks. And instantly there was a camaraderie between the four of us. We had so many questions to ask each other, which led to anecdotes and stories that cracked us up, more trips to the bar, and Hey, look at us! We're two couples naked in a spa, hanging out with our peeps and having a great time. See, the thing is, Julianne and I are not really the socially outgoing type. We keep to ourselves, we're together our favorite people to hang out with. So it's not very natural for us to make new couple friends.
But here's something I've always noticed about Julianne: she naturally touches people. Like, when she needs to butt in to make a point, she'll rest her hand on the other person's arm first. Without thinking about it, she has this natural ability to make other people at ease. I told you already, her superpower are her eyes and smile, the one-two punch, but she's also the kind of person who is so comfortable in her own skin that her warm vibe radiates to others and puts them at ease. And in this case, she literally WAS in her own skin, so it counts as double.
And here she was now, touching Joe's arm, touching Carly's arm, to emphasize a point. Or when she's emphatic and says "YES!" to a point someone is making, she puts her whole hand on top of theirs. Not in a body-slam kind of way, but in a way that feels natural, a way that I see in commercials all the time where it's a small gathering among friends and you can tell someone just made a funny 'cause they all jerk their heads back together like they all got shot by Lee Harvey Oswald, and then they all touch each other, "Yes, yes!" they seem to be saying to each other, and then comes the commercial pitch for Hillsdale Wine, "For Good Times With Friends".
I must have spaced out thinking about Julianne and that made-up commercial because Joe clapped his hand on my shoulder with a "you alright there?" and I embarrassingly said "I'm good, I'm good, my mind just went to Mars for a second" but I lied because, really, I was thinking about the Texas School Book Depository, and urgently told myself to get it together and stay in the game. Focus. Maybe get a water next round.
The four of us continued talking for a while, the laughs coming easily. And was it my imagination or were the four of us slowly moving closer to each other with each new subtle shift in our position? Our legs were touching each other now and it was nice that it didn't matter whose legs were touching me, Joe's or Carly's, or maybe both. And we didn't have a stenographer who was by our side taking shorthand to record every detail, so we'll never really know.
