Jamaica Mistaa

"What about Jamaica?"

I took a sip of my pale ale as I looked at my gorgeous wife of ten years. Amy was holding a brochure with vacation listings for the Caribbean, briefing through the leaflet as we relaxed at our favorite terrace. The kids were with my mom, giving us a much needed afternoon off.

"What about it?"

"Look, Jamaica is perfect for surfing lessons! You always talk about how you'd love to take up surfing, right?"

"True, but isn't that ridiculously expensive?"

"Not over there. According to the brochure, you can hire a private instructor for three days for only a hundred bucks."

"Whoa, that's not a bad deal at all."

Amy continued rattling on about all the sights we could see, the food we could and the pearly, white beaches we could sunbathe on. Meanwhile, all I could think about was how luscious she would look in a tiny bikini. After giving birth to our two beautiful baby boys, she felt like she had lost a bit of her sexuality. Nonsense of course, I was still crazy about her, but she felt different. More mother than wife.

I'd do anything to make my wife feel happy and sexy again. I even stopped going to my weekly volleyball practice on Tuesdays so she'd have the time to go for a long evening run. I fully supported her in all her endeavors. Slowly but surely, her chipper attitude was coming back, but there was still a glumness surrounding her. Maybe a long vacation, just the two of us, would get me my happy-go-lucky Amy back.

"Do you think we should do it?"

"Is it what you want?"

"It is," she smiled back at me, a wide, ear-to-ear-grin. "This place looks really nice. We can rent our own private bungalow near the beach, you can take up surfing while I can just lounge on the beach all day... Fuck it, I can really use a break. Things have been so hectic at work lately, and the boys, bless them, but..."

I nodded, smiling back at her. I could tell from her inflection that she was dead serious. Don't get me wrong, we love our two kids to death — but changing diapers and wiping snot doesn't get either one of us in the mood!

"It would be nice to take some time off, yeah, but when? We can't just take off..."

"Why not, though? Listen. Do you remember when we went to Mexico?"

"I remember what we did in Mexico," I said with a smirk.

Amy chuckled. "How could I forget, right? Seriously though, how long ago do you think that was?"

"I don't know," I said, searching my mind. "It as a while ago. Three years. Or was it four?"

"Five years," Amy proclaimed. "It's been five whole years since we had a proper vacation, Michael!"

"No way!"

"Yes way! Just count with me here. Last year we decided not to go because the kids were too young, the year before that I was pregnant, the year before that we had just bought the house so we didn't have any money..."

I counted the years and damn if she wasn't right. It had been five years already?! Time does fly, damn. One moment you're just turning thirty and suddenly the years just fly right by.

"Wow, I guess you're right."

"I want to do it," Amy said confidently. "Jamaica. This year. This summer. Hell, this month! Let's go home and book the tickets. Right now."

"Right now? Now now?"

"Now. We have the money — I know we're saving for a new car, but, well, fuck it. I want to go on a vacation before we grow old. At this rate we won't leave the country until we're past forty. I don't want to become a boring mom, Michael."

I ran my hand through my hair, taking a moment to think. It's been a long time since I'd seen Amy so fired up about anything — she had really set her sights on this vacation. We hadn't really planned or budgeted accordingly however. I'd have to call in a few favors at work, find a babysitter, and we'd have to dip into our savings... but that trouble should be well worth it, if it meant spending two weeks in paradise with my wife.

"You'll never be a boring mom, babe, trust me. If it's really what you want then... let's do it."

Amy clasped her hands together in joy, a wide, cheeky grin on her face.

"I can't believe you said yes! God, this is so spontaneous and exciting!"

"Can you get the time off work that easily though? And who will watch the boys?"

"Philip won't be pleased, but he can get over it. I've been busting my ass for him all year, he can manage two weeks without me," Amy said. "And I'm sure your mom wouldn't mind having the kids over for a week or two? She's always going on about how she wants to spend more time with them. Besides, isn't that what grandmothers are for?" She smiled cheekily. "We're going to Jamaica and nothing can stop us!"

I laughed at my wife's infectious enthusiasm. I was a little surprised by her decisiveness, but I didn't mind one bit. Normally, if we'd go on a holiday, she'd plan the whole thing down to the finest detail for months on end. It was a nice change of pace to suddenly decide, on a whim, to go to the Caribbean. I couldn't wait to finally get on a surfboard and mess around in the water, and afterwards, dry up on the beach, sipping on a cool margarita while Amy pranced around in bikinis and dresses, showing off her gorgeous curves to the island boys.

I raised my glass for a toast.

"To us!"

"And to Jamaica!" Amy chimed in.

***

"Should I do it?" Amy asked me, hesitating slightly. "This is it, baby... the point of no return."

Amy had called her boss and gotten two weeks off, while I had done the same. My mother was happy to watch the kids while we were gone. Now, after filling out the necessary online forms, we were one mouse-click away from booking our spur-of-the-moment vacation. We managed to find a flight leaving tomorrow morning.

"Should I do it?"

Amy's voice was tingling with excitement, her feet bouncing off the floor.

"Do it, baby!"

Click.

"...and that's it! We're going to Jamaica!"

My wife jumped up from her chair, positively beaming. It did me a whole lot of good to see her so happy and free of worries. It's been too long.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her in close, planting a big, sloppy kiss on her lips. She kissed me back enthusiastically, nibbling playfully on my bottom lip.

"Do you remember what we did on Mexico, on that beach?" I growled as my hands roamed her backside, pulling her body closer against mine.

"Mmhm, I sure do," she purred back. "Because I found sand in my underwear for weeks!"

We both roared with laughter, a deep, full-bellied laugh. This adventure, which hadn't even started yet, was already rejuvenating us.

"Well, I for one can't wait to get more sand into your undies."

"And what if I don't want to carry around heaps of sand in my bottoms, mister?" Amy said playfully, her hands rubbing the back of my neck.

"Then you'll just have to skinny-dip," I growled as I slipped my hands into the back of her jeans, my fingertips wandering across her naked backside.

Amy let out a surprised moan as I roughly dug my fingers into her soft skin, pulling her crotch closer to mine, and pressing my body against hers.

"I can't wait to fuck you on the beach again," I grunted into her ear as I yanked her jeans down to her waist, my hands grabbing her ass. I spanked her, causing her to breathe heavily into the nape of my neck.

She reached down and felt my rock-hard bulge through my pants.

"Mmhm, save it for our trip, bad boy," she quipped as she kissed my ear. "We have to pack!" She pulled away, but I was having none of that.

"Fuck that," I barked as I grabbed her arm and twisted it. "I'm taking you, here and now."

She wiggled out of my grasp. "We'll have plenty of time when we get there... but our flight leaves tomorrow morning! We have to pack. Now!"

Amy scurried off, her pants still bungling around her knees as she opened her dresser. "I only have a few hours to decide what to pack... I don't even have any good bikinis!"

Bemused, I watched Amy stressfully try to pack her entire wardrobe into one tiny suitcase. There was my old, familiar Amy again, I thought to myself. My cock was still throbbing at the thought of ravishing her body on the beach... and in less than 24 hours, that's exactly what I planned on doing.

***

Jamaica was everything we hoped it would be — and more. The weather was fantastic (delightfully sunny and warm), the food was great, the people were friendly and welcoming, and most important of all, it had put Amy in the best mood I had seen her in for years.

She was cheerful and chipper, waking up with a big smile every morning, eager to get out and explore the island. It warmed my heart to see her smiling again. The post-natal depression had been real and prolonged for her, and only now I was starting to see glimpses of my old, adventurous, lively Amy again.

I'd do anything to keep that fun woman around longer — anything.

We had a couple of days to kill before my surf lessons started, so we relaxed in a way we hadn't done in years. We would sleep in till ten, have a lazy breakfast with a smooth cocktail by the ocean, and lounge around on the beach or at the pool while we read our 'guilty pleasure' books. It was slow living. It was heaven.

At night we'd eat at one of the many local restaurants, and then head back to our beach-side bungalow early for our nightly bout of passionate, steamy lovemaking. It was as if Amy had been reawakened. She'd tear my clothes off and jump my bones like we were teenagers again.

I had the slight suspicion that the hard-bodied island men we'd encounter all day long played a big part in getting her into the mood. Whether we were at the beach, the pool, or downtown, it didn't matter — everywhere you'd look you could find broad-shouldered, big muscled, half-naked black men.

With the temperature pushing close to a hundred degrees, most locals didn't seem to bother wearing shirts. I didn't know if it was something in the water or Jamaicans were just really into fitness, but it seemed like every single Jamaican male had a body fit for a Mister Universe competition.

Not that I minded — I had definitely ogled a few topless chocolate-colored girls who were sunbathing on the beach. And I supposed a part of me liked it. Sure, I did feel a slight pang of jealousy when I caught Amy sneaking a peak over to the top of her book, pretending she was reading her chick lit while her eyes were actually glued to a muscular ebony stud walking out of the ocean like he was in a James Bond movie, the water dripping off his washboard abs, glistening in the sun. But, I also found it incredibly exciting and erotic to imagine her small, white frame next to that dark-skinned god.

"Something caught your eye?" I asked her when I caught her peeping at the one of the surfing instructors on our second day. This was the man who was going to train me, but he was booked up for today, so I wouldn't start until tomorrow.

Amy's face instantly turned a bright, fiery red as she tried to come up with an excuse. "I was just watching them surf," she said, but even her chest was flushed — and this could only mean one thing.

"It's okay," I told her. I loved teasing her, but I couldn't stand to see her squirm so full of guilt. "He kinda looks like Idris Elba, doesn't he?"

"He does," she exclaimed cheerfully. He was one of our favorite actors. I loved how he played the part of a brooding detective, while I suspected Amy wished he was more of a breeding detective, if you catch my drift.

"Oh! You should get a picture with him! We can tell our friends we hung out with Idris! That'd be a hoot," she laughed.

"Maybe I will," I smirked. "Or maybe I'll take some pictures of you two together," I added with a wink.

She raised her eyebrows. "What kind of pictures are we talking about here?"

"The kind that we wouldn't want to share with our friends," I grinned.

Amy's eyes widened and she did a sharp intake of breath. She tried to laugh it off, but I could tell from the glint in her eye that the gears in her mind were turning. Tonight we'd have another bout of passionate lovemaking, I was sure of that, but I wasn't quite through riling her up yet.

"I don't know if you could handle him though. I mean look at him, all muscle, so much taller and stronger than you... he'd tear you right in half."

Amy's eyes were glued to the surfing instructor as he waded through the shallow water, the salty sea water dripping down his ebony, muscled frame. Now that I had given her permission, Amy was really drinking in the sights.

"He does seem awfully strong," she mused. "He's so tall.. And broad as well..."

"You'd have to climb on his lap if you want to take a picture with him, otherwise you wouldn't even fit in the frame," I whispered saucily into my wife's ear.

Amy swatted at me with her book, her face flushed as red as a beet. "Watch it mister, I'm still your wife" She cackled. "I'm not about to climb random Jamaican surf instructors!"

"The vacation is still young," I quipped. "Never say never."

"You're so bad! I should have listened to my mom. That boy's trouble," she said in a nasal voice, imitating her mother.

We laughed and kissed, and then the dark-skinned surf instructor headed down-shore with his student, and disappeared into the distance. We headed back into town to grab a bite to eat, and the ebony stud wasn't mentioned again, though I could tell from my wife's perky nipples that my teasing definitely had an effect on her.

And it wouldn't be the last we'd see of him, that was for sure...

***

"Get up, sleepy head! You'll miss your first day of practice!"

I awoke slowly, my mind still clouded by sleep, while my cock was hard and throbbing from an incredibly realistic erotic dream I had. Amy had found a job at some lawyer's firm as a personal assistant of some hot-shot lawyer, and I was accompanying her to her firm's New Year's Eve party.

I was in shock when Amy walked into the party wearing nothing but jet-black lingerie and a collar around her neck, her boss leading her into the room with a leash. Turned out, as part of her work-duties she had to serve her boss — and all of his clients!

To reward the firm, the boss decided to share my wife with all his employees for the night. It was a free-for-all, my lovely wife being filled on both sides for hours on end, until she was completely stuffed full of cum, seed dripping out of her every orifice.

I was jealous, angry, and felt betrayed, but most of all, I was incredibly aroused. I had been the last to fuck her, my hard cock sliding easily into her well-lubricated, well-used cunt. I was right on the verge of orgasm, about to add my load to countless others, as my wife woke me up.

"Are you okay?" She asked me. "You seem a little flushed."

"I had the strangest dream," I answered, my heart still racing. It all seemed so vivid, so real. Why did it arouse me so?

"What was it about?" Amy asked me, cocking her head. She was wearing a dark-blue swimsuit and had her hair in a bun, still looking as fine as ever. "Was it naughty?" She smiled mischievously, motioning towards the tent my cock was pitching.

"It was," I admitted. "There was a party, and you worked for a lawyer, and then... you know what, never mind" I said. I couldn't very well tell my wife I just fantasized vividly about her being gang-raped and liking it, could I? It had just been a dream, but, my heart was still pounding in my chest. I could still feel how slick her wet pussy felt as my cock glided in, the abundance of juices inside of her...

"Tell me later then, you're going to be late for your class if you don't hurry up! Your training starts in thirty minutes!"

"Fuck! Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"I was reading and I didn't want to disturb you, you were sleeping so peacefully. I'll meet you at the beach, okay? There's a sandwich on the counter for you."

I kissed my wife goodbye and hopped into the shower for a quick rinse before throwing on my trunks and rushing to the beach. Luckily, our cottage was damn near to the waterfront, so it only took a minute.

Amy was already there, lounging on the white sand as she read one of her romance novels. Her pink cheeks were slowly getting tanned, and I could see the tan lines forming on her round, plush butt. I took a quick mental note to buy her a smaller bikini, so she could get a full-body tan.

A few yards away, my surf instructor was waiting for me, waxing his board. I greeted Amy and reported for duty.

"You're just in time, mon," my tall, dark and handsome surf instructor said with a broad smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm James, happy to see you. Is this your first time?"

"It sure is," I said as I shook his hand. His grip was firm.

"You're going to love it, I guarantee it. Riding the waves, there's nothing quite like it, trust me... except riding a fine woman, of course."

We headed into the water and he showed me the basics. We made some small talk, and it turned out he had spent a semester in our hometown last year, and he even attended a few games of my favorite team, the Eagles.

Surfing was every bit as fun and exciting as I hoped it would — though it was also a lot harder than it looked. I was huffing and puffing in no time at all, and getting quite the work-out.

When James caught a wave, it was smooth. Effortless. He hopped on his board and glided through the waves like was cutting through butter. It was a majestic sight, like he was born to do this.

When I tried it, the effect wasn't quite the same — I'm sure I lacked his grace and finesse, as I slipped and fell, splashing into the water, every time I tried to get on my board. Despite this, I still had the time of my life.

Amy was watching me horse around in the water all morning, cheering me on the entire time.

"Look, you've already got your first fan," James remarked when my wife hollered at me.

"Well as my wife, she's kind of obligated to be my biggest fan," I joked.

"Don't make me jealous," he said with a wicked smirk. "Any man would be glad to have what you have."

Strangely, I felt really proud that he complimented my wife. This gorgeous hunk of man-meat could have any woman on the island, but instead, he wanted my wife. Desired my wife.

"I'm sure you get your fair share of attention, though."

"Attention, sure, but commitment? That's rare. You be sure to keep your woman satisfied, you hear?"

"I do my best," I grinned.

"Now that we're on topic, I've got the perfect simile. Riding the wave is a lot like making love to your woman," James said. "You've got to be firm, but with a gentle touch. Decisive. Do not be rash, but don't hesitate either. Bide your time, wait for that perfect moment, and then strike!"

I tried to catch another wave, and this time, I managed to stand on my board for a good five seconds before I lost my balance. A personal record!

"That's it! Now you're getting it!" James cheered. "Again! Remember, that wave is your wife's ass, and you're hitting that booty! You're climbing it, and riding it all night! Go! Hit that!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I caught the next wave, getting up once again.

"I'm doing it!" I hollered. "I'm riding the booty!"

"You ride that booty, boy!"

After an exhausting morning of practice, every muscle in my body was sore. A lifetime spent behind a desk hadn't put me in the best shape of my life, and that's an understatement!

"Come on, one more Michael! Give me one more!"

"I can't James!" I sputtered. "I'm done! I'm out! You've slain me. I wasn't made for this!" I complained jokingly. "I can't ride any more booties today, not even my wife's! You go ahead, show me how it's done."

"With the wave or with your wife?" James grinned before he burst into laughter, a pleasant, rich sound. "I'm sorry, I'm just joking!"

"I'm not so sure," I grinned. "I'm keeping my eye on you, you dog!"

"A brother can't help being a brother," James smirked.