Ricardo and Juliana

When reading the stories submitted to the April Fool's Day contest it struck me that I'd never entered a Literotica contest. This, my entry to the National Nude Day contest is the result. I hope you enjoy, and would appreciate your support.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

The gym's Stair Master beeped; I'd been at it for fifteen minutes; I re-set it for five more. Bullshit to the contrary, looks mattered in my profession and while I'd kept the same hourglass figure I'd had in college — 6 dress size, 36-24-36, "D" cups, 5 feet 3½ inches tall, 114 pounds — now that I'd passed thirty-five I had to work a lot harder to do it.

Trying to ignore the burn in my butt, I zoned out, returning to the question I'd been contemplating. I'd soon be leaving for the Costa Rican resort hosting my employer's annual Best of the Best retreat. I looked forward to the trip: by all reports the resort was beautiful and as my division's top salesperson (as I'd been four of the last six years) I'd receive the usual accouterments, first class plane tickets, a suite, and a place of honor at the awards banquet.

My problem: who to bring? I was between boyfriends. I had casual arrangements with a few guys and gals, people I could call to escort me to an event or for a roll in the hay when needed. However, the best of the men were married and the rest, well if I wanted to spend a week with them at a tropical resort they'd already be my boyfriend. As to the ladies, no, my co-workers weren't ready for that. I could invite a customer, but that might give him the wrong idea and piss off whomever I didn't ask. If I went alone I'd look like a loser and, more importantly, the Me-Too movement hadn't reached my employer. Despite recent promises to reform The Davenport Group remained as much frat house as business. Harvey Weinstein would fit right in; lewd comments were the norm (hint to the guys: I know you think my full fat lips give me a "blow job mouth," you don't need to remind me). I already had enough trouble keeping my fellow employees' hands off me. It would be impossible if I was single at an alcohol-infused foreign resort.

That's when I noticed two of the women trainers staring; my son, doing bench presses, on the other end. I wasn't surprised or offended, women, including my female friends, were always checking out my boy and he was no virgin. And that's when I had my epiphany. Randall and I were close, it would be fun hanging with him, and the guys would not cross the line in the presence of my son, the all-district outside linebacker.

I reviewed past retreats in my mind. Guys had brought their daughters and the division boss had promised himself this would be the year he'd win the company softball tournament. Now he'd have a ringer.

I'd have to talk Randall into it; I was sure he and his several girlfriends were looking forward to Mom being out of town.

* * * * *

After adding protein powder I handed Randall his smoothie while he reviewed the resort's web-site, then leaning on his shoulder said, "So what do you think?"

"It's beautiful and the countryside's magnificent, natural hot springs, saunas, massages, first rate gym. I can stay in training for football and," alluding to my Hispanic ancestry -- I have brown hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes -- "you'll fit right in, it's almost perfect."

"Almost?"

Scrolling down to a notice that the area was suffering a drought he said."Well, there's the threat of dehydration, plus I'd have to cancel innumerable parties and orgies. You'll owe me big time, but shucks, anything for my Mom."

* * * * *

Wearing sunglasses I covertly watched the buxom blonde stewardess eye my son, turn to the slender black stewardess beside her, whisper something, then check the passenger manifest. My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when the blonde, working her way up the aisle taking drink orders, said, "Mr. and Ms. Toro, what can I get you?"

She'd addressed no other passenger by name. Determining from the manifest that Randall and I had the same last name she was trying to figure out whether the sexy young man sitting next to me was my husband, or was available.

I could fuck with her, but if my son had a shot at this hottie, why would I get in the way?

Counting the buttons on her shirt I said, "I'd like some sparkling water, with lime, what would you like son?"

She returned, an additional button undone, leaned forward to hand us our drinks, providing Randall (and I) a gander at her impressive cleavage, then, light blue eyes flashing, introduced herself as Shae and her fellow stewardess as Jasmyn.

During the rest of the flight the four of us chatted. Liking both women, knowing my son was likely to get lucky, I made clear I had no objection. When they offered to let Randall and I ride with them on the airline's shuttle to the resort, where they and the crew regularly stayed, we gladly accepted. Once there they introduced us to several members of the staff, including Carlos the handsome business manager, and invited us to dinner. While I couldn't, dinner was a mandatory employee-only event, I did join the pilot, Shae, Jasmyn, and my son for a pre-dinner cocktail.

Randall didn't make it back to the suite that night.

* * * * *

It was day three and I was sitting with the division chief who stood and cheered when a sleek young man radiating strength and grace made an effortless over-the-shoulder catch of a foul pop-up, the final out of a six to three win in the finals of the company softball tournament. At least on this day I was treasured more for my progeny than my sales records. The chief invited us to an early dinner -- there was another sales talk/pep-rally scheduled that evening -- and in a coup for me John Davenport, the company president, joined us for coffee. The early dinner was perfect for Randall. He had a late date with a comely blonde stewardess.

* * * * *

A "Do Not Disturb" sign hung on the doorknob, a signal not that I shouldn't come in -- it was my suite -- but that I should be careful. I opened the door, stepped inside. My son's bedroom door was closed; I heard muffled voices inside.

There was a note on my pillow: "The resort was overbooked, Jasmyn and Shae had to share a room, so I invited her back here. Had fun meeting the boss."

I checked messages, undressed, heard moans from my roommate and his date. I climbed in the shower, they got louder, and fingers on my sex I brought myself off.

In bed I read awhile, heard them start up again, turned off my light, reached between my legs.

* * * * *

I smelled the coffee, smelled real good, looked at my clock. Considering how late they'd been up last night I figured they'd sleep in. Shae must have an early flight. I put on a robe.

In the kitchenette I found my son in shorts and tee-shirt and Shae looking radiant -- and after what I heard last night she certainly should -- in leotards. I could see why my son had grabbed a piece of that; I wouldn't mind a piece myself.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee I said, "You two are heading for the gym early."

Shae said, "I gotta be at the airport in a couple of hours so we're meeting Jasmyn for an early work-out. Wanna join us?"

"Love to, I'll change and catch up with you."

* * * * *

I climbed on the Stair Master next to Shae's, turned it on, pleased that although I had a dozen years on her I worked out at a higher setting.

"Your son tells me it's barely been a vacation for you, that you're at one event after another."

"They keep us busy, but today's the free day, supposed to be for families, then tomorrow more meetings, the awards banquet, we fly out the next morning.

"Good, Jasmyn and I are on that flight. What you two doing today?"

"I'm not sure. Randall's been more than patient hanging with The Davenport Group-dudes all week. I was thinking some place we won't run into anyone from the company. Got any ideas?"

Shae checked the clock and said, "No, but Carlos will be here right at 7:30, always is. He knows everything that goes on around here. We can ask him."

And, despite the language barrier, I should have listened to my grandparents and parents and learned my native tongue, and with a little help from a passing stranger, we did. He suggested a private beach ten miles from the resort. It's owner was the majority owner of the resort. Carlos said he'd clear it with him.

* * * * *

We drove north, beach to our left, jungle to our right, until coming out of a long gentle turn we saw a house. On the ocean, made of wood, long and low, it effortlessly merged with the land and scenery. As Randall drove by I kept my eyes on it and realized it was larger than I'd first thought with several balconies overlooking the ocean and an elegantly gardened patio on the land side.

As we continued the ocean disappeared behind a series of large rolling sand dunes. Checking the odometer Randall said, "It's about a mile from here," then slowed when I pointed to a wooden sign in an open area suitable for parking.

While Randall popped open the trunk I walked to the sign. It said "Privado," across the top with several enumerated sentences below. Figuring they were the rules, I took off my sunglasses and tried to engage my cell phone's translation feature, but, as you'd expect, it did not work out here.

Randall came up behind me carrying two chairs, saw me futilely playing with my phone, and said, "Well, I'm guessing 'Privado' is Private, as for the rest of it, who knows."

"I suggested you take Spanish."

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "You and grandpa both."

I grabbed the bag with our stuff from the back seat and after a quarter mile walk through a cut between two dunes stopped dead in my tracks.

My son spoke first. "It's beautiful."

The water was dark blue and the sand, unlike any I'd seen before, was dark, almost black, the result I'd learn of being composed of magma from the nearby and thankfully extinct volcanos.

Then, to punctuate the moment, two dolphins lept from the water in a series of long graceful arcs about 100 feet from the shore.

I peeled off my clothes to reveal a minimal white bikini, freed from the leering eyes of co-workers I was finally going to get some sun. My son, in swim trucks, took off his shirt. As he did I thought about Shae. Despite the age difference I understood what she saw in him: gorgeous, well-built, and over the past week he'd handled himself with preternatural maturity. Few young man would do so well on a business trip with mom.

I applied lotion to my body, did Randall's back, then unfurled my blanket and laid down so Randall could do mine.

* * * * *

I wasn't sure how long it'd been, I was dozing in and out, when Randall said, "Are those horses?"

I lowered my sunglasses, put my hand over my brow to ward off the glare, and said, "I think so."

We stood as two people, a man and a woman, approached riding horses.

And just as I was about to say it, Randall did.

"Mom, they're naked, and I don't mean the horses."

They stopped about thirty feet away, and the man, who looked to be in his fifties, said in perfect English inflected with a rather sexy Spanish accent, "My name is Ricardo, this is my daughter Juliana, are you the guests of the resort, the ones Carlos mentioned, with The Davenport Group?"

Relieved, for I'd been wondering who they were, I said, "Yes, my name is Kara, this is my son Randall."

They dismounted, walked towards us.

The resemblance was striking. Both had brown hair, his short and speckled with becoming spots of gray, hers wavy and hanging to the middle of her back. Both had sultry brown eyes, triangular faces, and were of average height, he about five feet ten inches tall, she maybe three inches shorter, both were slender with muscled builds. I figured her for 34-23-35, two dress size; as to him I wasn't sure. I'm better at estimating women.

We shook hands and he said, "Welcome. I hope you're enjoying the beach."

I said, "Very much, it's beautiful."

If they weren't going to mention they were naked, I sure wasn't.

"Thank you, my family has owned it for some generations. Many have wanted to buy it, but we refuse all offers. We want to maintain it, not develop it, at first because it is lovely, now also for the dunes."

My son said, "Why the dunes?"

Juliana said, "The Co-Cos Island Finch, an endangered species, nests here, in the grass tufts on the dunes. Our guests are free to explore the dunes, the views there can be lovely, but they should not touch the grasses. It says so on the sign by which you parked but Carlos said you do not speak Spanish and he was unsure, when he spoke to you of it, if you understood."

I said, "No we didn't, it was an impromptu translation, we appreciate your going to the trouble to ride up here to let us know."

Juliana said, "It is no trouble, when I am home Papa and I ride every chance we get. I'm a graduate student in biology, that is how we know of The Davenport Group. I work in a laboratory with Gema, Mr. Davenport's wife. Checking on the finches is among my passions."

Randall said, "Are there any other rules we should know?"

Juliana said, "What is expected. No fishing, no fires, no feeding the wild life, take nothing from the beach, leave nothing behind. You are welcome to take as many photographs as you wish."

Ricardo said, "You forgot one Juliana, it is a nude beach."

Juliana said, "Papa, we can't ask them to do that. It is clear they did not understand and came all this way."

Before anyone could respond Randall said, "Not a problem," pulled his swim trucks over his hips.

Everyone was looking at me.

Well, I didn't want to seem the prude, was proud of my body, was not going to run into anyone I knew, and it just might be fun.

I said, "What the heck, this bikini doesn't hide much anyway," and took it off.

* * * * *

Mounting their horses the two of them rode up the beach. My son, his back to me, applied lotion to newly uncovered areas. I did the same, then lay on the blanket. When Randall took his seat he said, "You have a nice tush Mom."

"So do you son."

He said, "Touche. They were interesting, she's gorgeous."

"So is he."

I closed my eyes, dozed off.

* * * * *

I woke up thirsty.

"Honey, pass me a bottle of water."

Sitting up to drink I exposed my chest to my son. I'd raised him right, he looked but didn't stare, and when I handed him the empty bottle he said, "Mom, I'd like to check out these finches, want to walk the dunes with me?"

Saying, "Sounds like fun," I took hold of his hand and, as he helped me up, saw what til then I'd studiously avoided.

He was bigger than his father, who wasn't bad.

* * * * *

Atop the dune we saw the grasses Juliana talked about. Each tuft was slightly taller than me, eighteen inches to two feet across, and up close you saw why they provided a safe nesting place. They were was small fortresses. The individual blades were about two inches wide, thick and rigid, packed densely together, and covered with small barbs. Still, somehow small mottled birds flew into and out of the tops.

Deciding to explore we walked along the ridge of dunes. Juliana had been right. The view of the ocean and, when we looked landside, the fecund jungle, was spectacular. We also occasionally saw the house we'd driven by; it had to be theirs, it was the only structure close enough to have ridden horses from.

* * * * *

We were walking up the crest of a dune, my attention on a hawk circling over the ocean, when Randall said, "Did you hear that?"

I didn't, but when he crouched I did the same and when his head reached the top of the ridge (he got there first -- he had several inches on me) he whispered, "Get on the sand," and dropped to the ground. I, thinking he'd spotted some exotic wildlife, did the same, then peered over the ridge.

Lying on his back on a blanket was Ricardo. His daughter, on all fours, was between his legs facing away from him, rocking back as his penis slid into her sex.

His hand was between her legs, playing with her clit.

They were fucking.

Then I heard it.

"Oh Papa, oh Papa, oh, ohhh, ohhhhhhh."

Turning to my son I whispered, "We should get out of here," but, voice intense, he said, "Look."

I did; Juliana had moved a hand to her breast and was pulling on a nipple.

"Oh Papa, oh Papa."

I know when someone is about to come; these two were about to come. Ricardo's jaw locked, the muscles of his arms tightened, and when he moved his hand away from his daughter's sex Juliana immediately replaced it with her own. With a guttural moan he pushed into her, his body spasmed, he groaned again, and came, spilling his seed into his daughter's sex. His orgasm triggered hers and babbling in Spanish, her tanned skin flushed, she shook, writhed, convulsed, then came again before slumping forward, her lower body on the blanket, her upper body resting on the warm soft sand, a look of pure bliss on her lovely face.

I looked at Ricardo. His dick glistened in the sun; he had nice dick.

My son said, "Let's go."

We slid down the ridge, stood when we thought it safe.

And yeah, I looked. My son was hard as steel. I said, "We better get off these dunes and into the water, we need to cool that thing down."

Looking at my breasts Randall said, "I'm not the only one who needs cooling off."

Yeah, my breasts were swollen, my nipples hard.

* * * * *

I intended a quick dip, but found I liked the ocean on my naked form. I felt alert, closer to the experience, as if not an observer but part of the natural world. My son responded the same way and we played in the water, splashing each other, laughing, before heading down the shoreline. There were more people on the beach, all nude, and contrary to my expectation I didn't feel self-conscious, but relaxed, the ocean breeze wafting over my skin, the sun warming my body, focusing not on how people looked, but on the moment.

We'd just spotted our chairs when we heard the neigh of horses, saw Ricardo and Juliana approaching. Their bodies were wet; they'd also taken a dip in the ocean and washed away the evidence of their liaison. Signaling us to stop they dismounted and walked their horses to us. They had the happy eyes and silly grins of people who'd just had great sex.

And with the memory of that playing in my head my breasts and sex swelled. Were they having the same effect on Randall? Was he getting hard?

Composing myself, I stroked the forehead of Ricardo's horse, then locked my eyes on his, not trusting my reaction if I saw his splendid physique and not wanting to provide him an excuse to scan the way my body was responding to his presence.

Randall said, "How were the finches?"

Juliana, I'd not earlier noted the smattering on freckles on her nose and cheeks, said, "Excellent, several new colonies have nested."

Randall, standing slightly behind me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom and I explored the dunes and saw the nests. They're little castles."

I saw (or imagined I saw) something flash in Juliana's eye as she said, "Yes, they provide protection from both the weather and predators."

Ricardo said, "My daughter has reminded me what a bad host I am. We are having a party at my home tonight, it was the last building before the beach. Dress is informal, it starts at 6:00. I hope you can come."

Fascinated by these two and their home I looked to my son, saw yes on his face, and said, "We did see your house on the way here, it's lovely. Happily, tonight's the non-event evening of my meeting so I'm free. We'd love to come."

Ricardo leaned in, kissed my cheek; Juliana kissed Randall's, then mine. When her small breasts pressed into my large ones I wondered: could she feel the heat, feel my hard nipples?