When my lover told me he wanted to take me to Florida for Halloween, I jumped at his offer. The weather in Kentucky had already begun to produce wet, cold nights, and I could envision myself in a bikini on the beach.
Imagine my surprise when he told me we weren't going to a beach. I guess my disappointment showed on my face.
"You won't need a bikini either," Tom told me. I could see my expectations dwindling.
'Baby, we're going to a nudist resort. All you will need is a towel, tanning oil, and a couple of pairs of heels.
Over the next hour or so, Tom told me about a nudist resort, north of Tampa, who had fantastic Halloween Parties. He added a friend of his had gone last year with his wife, and it was unbelievable. I knew his friend and his wife were 'swingers,' and if they thought it was great, well, hell, let's go!
The week before we left, we had drinks with his friend and his friend's wife. Once the conversation turned to the resort, Kelli, the wife, giggle. As they talked, we learned about the atmosphere, private parties, and what to expect.
Tom made all the arrangements, got us a small condo and plane tickets.
The night before we left, I began packing. I filled a large suitcase with thongs, makeup, heels, a pair of flip flops, and coverups. One outfit to wear if we went into Tampa for dinner but everything else was for the resort.
Tom loves for me to dress in clothing to attract men. As we walked through the terminal in Atlanta, he was quite please by the many looks my breasts were causing. I was wearing a short mini dress, with the top revealing an abundance of cleavage.
We landed in Tampa an hour later. While Tom retrieved our luggage, I went to the ladies' room, changed into a red mini skirt and a sheer white blouse. No underwear. My four-inch red heels were perfect.
I walked to the carousel to help Tom get our luggage. Let's say the looks of others pegged me as an escort or the such. I stood back as Tom pulled each bag off and coyly smiled at the men gauging me.
We rented a car and finally arrived at Paradise Lakes around dusk. After checking in, retrieving our condo keys, etc., we drove to our building in the resort's rear. We went by a multitude of nudest, and it was astounding to see couples walking bare toward the clubhouse. The ladies all seemed to be wearing a scarf size wrap around their waist, heels, and nothing else.
As we walked to our condo, a couple exited theirs, and we exchanged names. They told us if we wanted to get a seat in the lounge, we should hurry. Halloween Week drew the most massive crowds. I tried not to look at the guy's penis but failed terribly.
His wife was lovely and had had breastwork. Double D would be underestimating her enhancement.
We agreed to meet them in the lounge. I practically striped as I walked through the door. Tom proceeded me in the bathroom, and it seemed to take forever.
Finally, it was my turn. I quickly showered, shaved all the essential places, and began to apply my make up. I worked to enhance my eyes and applied a dark red lipstick. Stepping back, I felt I looked great.
Tom was waiting for me as I put on my red heels and a matching red thong.
We drove to the clubhouse and were lucky to get reasonably near the door.
As we entered, I was amazed by the atmosphere: loud music and a crowd trying to get into the lounge. The lobby's lighting allowed me to peruse the other ladies, and I must admit most were very attractive. There were a few older couples, but most in their 30 and 40s.
We finally got inside and incredibly found Ken, our neighbor, immediately. He leads us to his table. His wife, Kay, stood and greeted me with a light kiss. The band made it impossible to talk. Kay leaned into my arm and tried to shout over the noise, "first time here?" she asked. I nodded; it was. And then surprisingly quickly asked, "Swingers?"
I turned to Tom, and as I grabbed his cock, I shouted, '"are we swingers?" A huge smile and a nod told me we were. Hell, in Rome, play the game!
Turning back to Kay, I shouted, "yes, but newbies."
Laughing, Kay shouted in my ear, "It's easy to learn.
