Island Man Ch 01

I'm lying on the tanning deck in the middle of the lazy river/pool while the hubby goes into the grotto pool bar and gets us drinks - it's two-for-one this afternoon and I haven't had a drink in about fifteen years, so I figure one or two will be more than enough. He brings me the Bahama Mama, I taste it and it's really sweet . . . odd . . . I'm used to the old-fashioned Screwdrivers, Fuzzy Navels, etc . . . you know, strong alcohol taste with a little sweet. This is nothing like that. I drink it down, hand it back and ask for more. He's shocked, tells me I better slow down, but (of course) goes back for more. I tell him to try something different this time. He brings me a Yellow Bird. Just as sweet, but a better drink - yummy. All gone! This time, I go in and find one myself. I swim up to the bar, drink in the beautiful man behind the counter and peruse the drink menu. How about a Rum Runner? Make that two . . . it is two-for-one, right? He smiles, looks over at the islander on the "land side" of the bar and winks, then makes my drinks.

I glance at the islander to see who the bartender was winking at. He's looking at me. Smiling. Maybe even laughing. I realize I have this ridiculous grin on my face. I swim out of the bar and try to wipe it off. It isn't going anywhere. I'm drawn like a moth to a flame back into the bar -- not just for my drinks, but also to get another glimpse of the islander. Adorable! The drinks are on the counter. I hate carrying drinks around. I down them both. I'm not actually feeling a thing. I figure all these years without drinking have left me immune to the effects of alcohol. The islander is still smiling at me. I smile back (like I could wipe that grin off my face anyway) and swim away.

I am a happily married, one-man-woman, so I'm not entertaining any illicit thoughts . . . really . . . I'm about to climb out of the pool when I realize the world is a little off its axis. My hubby is grinning at me. He sees that it's hit me. He "helps" me over to a lounge chair by the side of the pool -- on the remote side where I can be in full sun, but don't have to communicate with anyone (tanning is serious business, you know). Then he goes to the front desk to take care of a few issues.

I'm lying on my chair on my stomach when I hear someone yell, "You better turn over, Baby!" I look up and there's "My Islander" (yes, for some reason I'm now thinking of him as mine). He's standing on the bridge fifty feet away, smiling down at me. Then it hits me: I WANT HIM! Wow! I've never felt like this before; at least not that I can remember. I'm a married woman. I love my husband. How can I want this man I've never even spoken to? How can I have this intense attraction to someone other than my husband? I lie there and contemplate my licentious thoughts, but don't respond to My Islander. I can't. I don't trust myself. Not to mention, I can barely raise my head as the alcohol has really hit.

The hubby comes back, tells me he's taken care of all the room issues and asks what I want to do now. I'm hot and horny after thinking about My Islander, so I tell him to come into the pool with me. They have these three mini grottos with jets and I want some "alone time" -- but I don't want to leave the pool, 'cause My Islander might come back. AJ has no idea what's going on in my head, but he's never turned down an invitation to the grottos, so in we go. They're nice and secluded -- you can swim into the opening but it's fairly private - just enough openness to tantalize AJ's exhibitionist side and just enough privacy that I'm willing to play.

I push him up against the rock wall, his knees hit the seat, forcing him to sit, then I straddle him and begin passionately kissing him. He's caught quite off guard. I'm not usually this forward -- plus our sex life has nearly petered out in the last ten years, so where's all this coming from? (Not that he's going to ask, 'cause he doesn't want to jinx anything!) After a few minutes, I pull one of my shoulder straps down, grab his head and press it into my breast. As he's sucking and nibbling I feel the need to share the fact that I want My Islander. I'm still straddling him, so I know immediately how much he likes that comment! I ask him if I can HAVE My Islander. His cock throbs as he tells me no. I pull the other strap down and completely expose my top half. The couple swimming by looks away. I don't care. I'm on a mission. I have to get a "yes" . . . But still, he says no. I'm so hot I can't take it anymore. I pull the bottom of my suit aside and thrust him in. "Please, Baby!"

"No, you know you don't really want that, Baby," he says. What does he know? True, in the past I've been a bit of a prude. But things have changed. I can tell. I won't regret this one. No way.

"Please, Baby!" I demand, grinding against him for all I'm worth.

I can tell he's loving me asking; he's getting harder, he's groaning, he's grabbing my ass so hard as he plunges in and out that I'm sure I'm going to have finger bruises. "No," he breathes, slamming it harder into my pussy.

I can't take it anymore; I abandon all thoughts of My Islander and really get into the action in front of me. I'm not a quiet lover, so as people swim by, AJ has to put his hand over my mouth -- or better yet, muffle my cries with his kisses. The water is splashing all around us as we suddenly cum -- together. I feel his cock throbbing. My pussy is convulsing -- like it's trying to suck all that juice out of him -- and I collapse on his chest. Do I mention My Islander again? The alcohol has been worked out of my system with all the furious fucking. Maybe I don't want him as much as I thought, I tell myself . . . do I?

More later . . .