Mauritius looks spectacular from the air, all green and lush and ringed by radiant beaches. We had stopped over in Capetown, and that day we had been flying over nothing but ocean for some time before the island appeared in our windows. We got a quick look at the massive rock of Le Morne Brabant before traversing the island. When our plane touched down at Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam International Airport, the place was swarming with tourists, mainly Asian and European. We seemed to be the only Americans in the shiny, modern facility.
After fetching our luggage and passing through customs, we met up with the taxi we had booked online, and an hour later my wife Janet and I were checking in at our hotel in Port Louis. We spent a quiet evening there, recovering from our travels, and the next morning we set out for a nearby travel agency. We had a week to spend, and we had decided to have some local experts help us plan how to do it.
It was a short walk to Kaleidoscope Travel, and we were greeted inside by a very friendly young woman named Axelle. She efficiently ascertained what sort of activities we were interested in, and provided us with an array of glossy brochures. Janet spread them out on a coffee table and began browsing while Axelle and I made small talk.
Mauritius is a cultural and ethnic melting pot, and Axelle was very African in appearance. She was of medium height, dark complexion, and, well, voluptuous. I had found myself reacting to women's bodies more and more once I had entered my sixties. With my wife, it was just the opposite. She had hit menopause, and her libido simply closed up shop. We got along fine, but there was something of a void where our sex life had been.
In all fairness, it could be said that Axelle had gone out of her way to call attention to herself. Although her demeanor was quite professional, her attire was provocative. She wore a short skirt and heels, giving me a glimpse of her succulent thighs. But the real attention-grabber was her blouse, knotted at the midriff and unbuttoned at the top. Her sensational tits were barely contained by it. And an old fellow like myself who has been around the block a few times can tell that she noticed that I noticed. There was a hint of wickedness in her smile.
Janet and I were sitting on a couch in front of the coffee table, and she was asking about something called Aapravasi Ghat, which is a museum that documents how the British ran their usual slavery and exploitation racket when they were in charge here. Axelle described it knowledgeably while flashing me an unnecessarily friendly smile as Janet pored over her pamphlets. I was struggling to keep my composure.
In response to Janet's question, Axelle went to fetch another batch of pamphlets which she added to what was on the table. Janet gave them a cursory glance, then asked if she could use the restroom. She excused herself, and Axelle walked over and stood near me with her waist roughly at eye level. I tried to keep things on a professional level by asking her about local beaches. In response, she walked a few steps closer to me and began to describe the options.
By "a few steps closer", I mean that her bare midriff was now about 6 inches from my face. Her hips swayed almost imperceptibly as she talked about beaches around Port Louis.
"Do you know what I would especially recommend?" she asked. "I recommend île aux Cerfs, on the east coast. You can get there in an hour's drive and then a fifteen minute boat trip. I like it because there you can sunbathe naked..." - here she leaned toward me ever so slightly - "...and some people even have sex in public."
I realized then that her pussy was wet. I could smell it.
We heard the toilet flush and the sound of the bathroom door being opened, and Axelle stepped back to a more proper distance, flashing me another wicked smile.
Janet had thought it over, and she wanted to order a package of activities for the week. She and Axelle worked all that out, and we were all set except for one remaining piece of paperwork. Axelle asked that someone come by around closing time to pick it up.
My wife and I spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around Port Louis. Janet seemed rejuvenated by the mild tropical climate and the change of pace. Her auburn hair, which admittedly came from a bottle these days, danced fetchingly with the ocean breezes, and she looked fashionable in some trendy sunglasses she had purchased at the airport in Capetown. We did a thorough reconnaissance of the Central Market, and Janet filled her bag with trophy purchases; the lust for shopping was one primal drive which had not diminished as she grew older.
As late afternoon was approaching, Janet started feeling fatigued and asked if I would mind if she retired to the hotel room and left me in charge of picking up the remaining travel agreements at the agency. I told her it was not a problem, while wondering to myself whether it might be a problem for other reasons. But I escorted her back to the hotel, and the task of going to see Axelle again had fallen to me.
When I arrived at Kaleidoscope Travel, Axelle had just closed all the blinds and was about to put the "closed" sign in the window. "You got here just in time," she said with a grin. She completed her task with the sign, locked the door, and then took a seat at her desk. I sat on the couch and waited.
I assumed that it was just a matter of printing and signing a few documents, but when I looked over at Axelle, nothing like that was happening. She appeared to be concentrating on something, though.
Finally, I decided to find out what was causing the delay. I walked toward Axelle's desk, and paused, trying not to seem impatient. "Are we waiting for documents to print?" I inquired.
Axelle waived her head "no". Then she looked directly in my eyes and nodded her head upward to indicate that I should come closer. I did, and found a surprise.
She was masturbating. Now that I was looking down from above her desk, I could she that she was not inactive at all. She wore no panties, and the fingers of her right hand were purposefully and forcefully at work, massaging her swollen clit and pussy. Below the desk top, her hips were thrusting slightly and trembling.
A little voice inside me protested that this was highly unprofessional behavior. I ignored that little voice because I was sex-starved and kinky, and because her cunt looked glorious, her swollen lips a deep teak color and her interior a bright, wet pink, peeking out between them. Axelle's breath was beginning to come in ragged gasps as she probed her messy depths and teased her protruding clit.
I walked around the desk and seated myself facing her on the desktop. Her hips were bucking in slow motion as she looked up at me with half-closed eyes. "Do you like to see me do it?" She asked, and I nodded slowly. She shifted her position in the chair to give me a better look. The smell of her arousal was overpowering and I loved it so much.
I was totally under the spell of her gorgeous black cunt, and I began to undo my belt, next pushing my pants and underwear down my thighs and letting my cock wave in the air. Axelle looked at it adoringly, and the pace of her slippery fingers quickened. She arched her back and wiggled her shoulders, causing her fabulous tits to pop free from her tight blouse. I stepped up from the desk, straddled her thighs, and began to slap her big tits with my rigid cock, from time to time rubbing my cock and balls on her big, erect nipples. My cock looked very white against them.
Axelle closed her eyes and smiled. Then after a minute she seized my cock with both hands, hefting it, feeling its weight and girth. Then she took it in her mouth. All of it.
I groaned loudly with pleasure. She released my cock from her mouth and smiled up at me. "What do you think your wife would say if she saw that?"
