Sex-Cation of a Lifetime

THE SEX-CATION OF A LIFETIME

The brochure promised a "vacation of a lifetime for adventurous couples and sexually frustrated wives." It said it would provide from erotic sex, to exotic foods; from amazing travel, to sensual massages; from astonishing, unforgettable sexual attention to incredible, fantastic carnal experiences; from realizing your most hedonistic fantasy to receiving absolute genital indulgence; from pleasure for voyeuristic husbands, to gratification for neglected wives. "This is simply the indulgence of a lifetime."

The application asked for the woman's favorite foods, preferred sexual positions, personal fantasies, taste in male attributes, choice of travel destinations, and personal physical description (with a picture required).

"What do you think," Claire asked me after showing me the brochure.

"Sounds like it is for you," I said "So what do you think? You fit the category they are looking for? Frustrated? Wanting gratification? Neglected wife?" I said, listing the characteristics they seemed to be targeting. "I guess you have a mildly voyeuristic husband. You interested?" I asked.

"Of a lifetime," she said with a smile.

"Favorite foods, sexual positions, qualities in men, favorite fantasies, genital indulgence? Sounds perfect," I said. "You consider filling out the application?" I asked.

"I already have," she said.

"May I see?" She handed the many paged form to me and I opened it. "So, I see you list as your favorite food, fettuccine Alfredo; New Zealand as your fantasy travel destination; and men with large equipment as your male preference; and cowgirl as your favorite sexual position. Okay, no big surprises," I said with a smile. "Do you classify yourself as frustrated?"

"We all are frustrated to some extent these days," she said. "You know I have an insatiable sexual appetite, right?" I nodded and smiled. "We would get to interview candidates," she said. "Pick who we like."

"We?"

"Well, me," she said with a giggle. "Could you put up with me being pampered like that?" she asked.

"I would do all I can to accommodate pampering like that," I said. "You written down your fantasies yet?" I asked. She nodded. "Any you want to share?" I asked.

"You want to go?" she asked, avoiding my question. "It may be fun. You like to see your wife happy, right?"

"Would picking a lover who would give her massages and cook fine meals make her happy?" I asked.

"It couldn't hurt," she said.

We filled out the rest of the application and looked at the calendar to see dates that we could fit into our schedule. That night we decided to send in the form, and it was clear my wife was terribly excited about the trip. I looked back over the brochure and imagined my wife with a handsome male escort pampering her incredibly, flirting with her and the voyeur in me got excited at the prospect.

The form asked for her favorite sexual fantasies. I thought about those, imagined what she thought about. I knew she was an exhibitionist, knew she was sexually ravenous, and I knew she liked the thought of having sex with a well endowed man who knew how to pleasure a woman.

We had exchanged partners with Teri and Phillip, so extramarital sex was not out of the question for us. Our first order of business, after filling out the form, was picking her personal escort slash attendant. After going over the list a number of times, she decided on a Jamaican named Mario who was six foot three, two hundred twenty pounds and measured eight inches where it mattered the most. He was well muscled, with a slight Afro and had been given a five point six rating by previous "clients."

He spoke three languages and had a Masters degree in English literature. He promised personal attention to the clients "needs" and was a trained chef. I was as eager as Claire to meet Mario. He sounded just about perfect.

When we got off the plane he stood holding a sign with her name on it at the edge of the crowd. He stood out like a neon sign. He took Claire by the hand and led her to the limousine, helping her in and sitting next to her. He said we would get "settled in" and then get to our greeting massage.

The ride took thirty minutes, then we passed through large gates and a huge archway in the form of a heart. We parked at the entrance and three young men took our bags and Mario led us, still holding her hand, directly to our room. He gave her a kaftan to put on and said he would be back in forty minutes to give her the "greeting massage."

We looked out over the beach to the ocean and rested for the forty minutes. It was beautiful. There was a massage table in the room and two attendants came in and changed the sheets. Forty minutes later Mario came in and gave Claire a sweet kiss and lifted her kaftan over her head. She stood nude before us and he led her to the massage table. We have been nude many times at clubs and beaches so it wasn't a problem for her to be naked in front a stranger, especially one who promised to fuck her like she never had been fucked before. He put her face down on the table and started with her shoulders and back, moving down her body, across her bottom, her legs, to her feet.

When he turned her over he went right to her breasts, then down her belly, and finally to her pubic mound. He parted her labia with practiced fingers, then attended to her lips, and mound, and clit. Her orgasm came promptly and he inserted two fingers in her vagina.

Expertly, he kept her just at the edge of her orgasm until he finally let her come, finishing her off with a dildo that he skillfully worked in and out of her. She held her legs open for him. I was mesmerized by what I saw and even became aroused at the sight of her being fucked with his fingers and the dildo.

When he finished she was limp as a rag on the kitchen counter and smiling happily. She stayed on the table for thirty minutes while she recuperated. He brought in our lunch of crab cakes and fried plantains, a Caribbean drink with a parasol and a straw. He gave us our schedule and explained we would have an afternoon sail, some time at the pool, then another massage, and finally dinner and an evening sensual "exploration."

He then explained he would come back before bedtime and attend to her "personal needs." He asked me if I would be there, and he suggested some options. I had listed voyeuristic tendencies and he had obviously read from the application form, then he asked me about my interest in watching. I said I would love to witness her pleasure and he said I was welcome to watch. Then he took our application form from a briefcase and opened it up. "You list cowgirl and oral as your favorite sexual pleasures, so is that what you'd like to start with?" he asked. She smiled and nodded.

Then he told me he would be back and asked when we would like him to be there. We looked at one another, then I said, "Ten?" She nodded. He said he would see us at ten. When he left she came over and kissed me.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You are such a good, thoughtful husband," she said. "Any wife would be thrilled to be married to a husband like you."

"Any man would be delighted to have a HotWife like I do," I said in our exchange of mutual admiration.

Mario came back at exactly ten o'clock. The knock on the door was soft, like he was trying to be gentle already. When I let him in he motioned toward a chair and went right to Claire and kissed her softly. He then began undressing her slowly, savoring each act of removing a piece of her clothing. Since she was no longer wearing her kaftan, he undressed her leisurely. He removed her jacket, helped her out of her blouse, removed her bra and lifted it off her shoulders. He slipped her skirt down her legs, then slid her panties over her bottom and helped her out of those. When she was nude, he helped her to the bed and took off his clothes. He folded a kaftan on the small table for her afterwards and got on the bed and held out his hands to her.

She knelt on the bed and lifted one leg over his hips and straddled him, then she lowered herself down on his erect penis, taking hold of his erection and sliding it into her sex. She had moved it back and forth at her slit, moistening the tip, before she moved her hips to position it and force herself down to move it into her. He lifted himself, driving it deeper, then began slowly pumping his hips to move it in and out of my wife's married and very eager pussy.

I focussed on watching his very large West Indian erection spreading her labia apart and going deep into her. The look on her face was one of rapture and she groaned as he moved in and out of her puffy and wet vagina. My wife was fucking her Jamaica escort and loving every second of each thrust into her voracious pussy.

In about ten minutes she began to moan and I knew an orgasm was building. When it finally exploded from her it came like a stick of dynamite exploding and she cried out as her pleasure erupted from far down in her throat. "Oh, god, baby, fuck me, yes," she yelled, her fists clenched and her body coiled like a steel spring. She bucked and bounced with her climax and brought her knees up high and curled her toes.

When she finished coming she began moving again slowly, savoring the feel of his cock inside her. She smiled at me as she slowly fucked him, a goofy sort of look-what-I-just-did grin. I smiled and nodded back at her. Without missing a beat, Mario began to slide down her body until his face was at her pussy. Slowly he began to lick, running his tongue the length of her slit, separating her labia lips and collecting all of her flow that he could.

I watched them for awhile, loving the sight of her lovemaking, and I got as excited as if I was involved, which in at least one way I was. I was enjoying it with her, and feeling the excitement she felt. It guess that is what unconditional love is all about, really.

Over the next ten days I saw them on the beach, in our bed, on the floor, in a hammock, in the shower, and at the kitchen sink. I watched him fuck her as she sat with her legs apart on the kitchen counter with her kaftan up and her pussy open to his manhood. I saw her suck him and swallow every Jamaican drop he had to give her, then he massaged her bottom until she came again.

We took a boat ride to a deserted island, then he ravished her in the shallow surf as she stood with her legs open and her bottom in the air. He made good on the promise to take her through everyone of her favorite positions so I could watch. If you count orgasms alone the trip was a roaring success, and she flew all the way home with a preoccupied, distant smile on her face.

Of course it was a trip for the ladies, but I got the pleasure of watching her be ravished all over the Caribbean. We have memories we are now compelled to go back to. She has already booked our next trip. I have said I may not go. I don't need to see her fucked on a West Indian beach for a second time.

I do believe she is now in love--to some degree--with Calypso cock and tropical tongue. I did enjoy it, frankly, but I don't need to see the sequel. I know how it ends, and unless she doesn't come back to me I know the plot.

If your wife finds a vacation broacher about a tropical paradise that caters to the ladies, let her go, or she will fantasize about them until she is post menopausal and only capable of knitting and dreaming about what could have been.

He is able to do everything you can't do: from staying hard for hours; to giving her multiple orgasms; to fuck standing up, without collapsing. His hands are magical, and his cock is thicker than most men's wrists. He can cook a gourmet meal and play the bongo drums. He can make her scream with his tongue and tell her he is going to fuck her gleeful in three languages, and she can charge it all on her Mastercard.

It was, simply, the sex-cation of a lifetime. Do I regret it? Not on your life. It is what kept her going for a whole year, waiting for the next sex-cation to come. It just may be the secret to a happy marriage. Take it from me, it was money well spent. The secret to a happy life is indeed a well-fucked wife. I can send you the brochure, if you are interested.