I Just Don’t Know . . . Ch. 08

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At the beginning of my first entry, I said, “I’m not a lesbian.” Well, that’s still true. But, based on everything that’s been going on since that declaration, I’d have to say that there’s certainly some bisexuality going on around here. In reflecting on all of this, I really can’t believe what’s happened over the past several years. I never – NEVER – saw this in me. And yet, I now look on all these experiences that I’ve had with my female friends as an integral part of who I am. I wouldn’t give them up for anything. And, sometimes, they come from out of the blue, when least expected, and are every bit as sweet.

This chapter does not concern my dear Caroline and Charlotte, nor does it continue the recent dalliance with Sara Adams, that randy school principal who used me (as a willing subject) to re-kindle long dormant urges. No, this story takes place far away from home, fanned by deliciously warm tropical breezes.

It happened in February. My daughter Julia was headed to Florida with her school band during school vacation to take part in a series of concerts and, more important to her and her friends, several visits to amusement parks of note. My husband and I had great faith in the school personnel acting as chaperones and trusted our girl to behave while having the time of her life.

Once her trip was firmed up, Richard decided there was no reason for us to deal with winter’s blasts while Julia was enjoying the sun, so he suggested we head south ourselves. Some years earlier, we had spent a week on the island of St. Martin in the Caribbean and had loved it. As a matter of fact, I think I made reference to that trip in an earlier chapter – something about going topless on a very French beach. Anyway, I suggested we return and Richard happily agreed to set the plans in motion. He made some enquiries, found a place to stay that sounded heavenly, and secured flight, lodgings and rental car for Monday through Saturday. Julia would leave on Saturday and come home the following Sunday, by which time we’d be back. Lovely!

The weather cooperated for our departures. Julia flew out, armed with clarinet and an ear to ear smile and, 48 hours later, it was our turn. We arrived at the St. Maarten airport (Funny little island – half Dutch and half French) shortly before noon, got our car, and hightailed it across the central part of the island to our hotel.

It was an interesting place. It consisted of more than a dozen separate buildings, each of which had accommodations for up to four families. The best feature was that each building had its own pool, not enormous but more than sufficient for quick laps and cooling off in the scorching tropical sun. Now we just had to hope that the other rooms in our unit were occupied by convivial folks. Not cloying, not loud, just pleasant. Hopefully, not too much to ask.

Our room was comfortable, with tile floors, a king bed and quiet air-conditioning. Within seconds, we had both stripped down into what would become our uniforms for the week: shorts, tee shirts, and flip-flops – that is when I wasn’t in a comfy little bikini. This was close to my idea of heaven. Richard made a quick run to a nearby grocery store and, by mid-afternoon, we were poolside, savoring gin and tonics, and cheese and crackers. I had slathered on the necessary sun screen and was just getting into a lightweight English mystery when our first building mates made their appearance.

They were Ted and Mari-Ellen from the Midwest. They looked to be in their early to mid 40’s, Ted tall and stout, Mari-Ellen mid-height and … shall we say, pleasantly plump. Just a nice, sweet-looking couple from America’s Heartland by the look of it and, sure enough, after engaging in conversation, we were quite taken by their personalities. They shared without gushing about their lives and asked discreetly about ours. As a bonus, they broke away after a few minutes, moving to the other side of the pool. The message? We know you probably want your space, we certainly want ours. Perfect. As it happened, Ted and Mari-Ellen were the only other occupants of our bungalow for the length of our stay which meant our pool was a haven of peace and quiet.

We settled into a glorious habit early in the week. Up early for a walk along the magnificent Atlantic beach that was but a few minutes from our door; back for a leisurely breakfast on our deck; some time at the pool; lunch at one of the many beachside restaurants and snack bars; some beach time on comfy lounge chairs under a pastel-hued umbrella; back to our room for a late afternoon nap (which invariably led to activities other than sleeping. Oh, what that tropical heat does for the libido!); drinks by the pool; drive to a restaurant for dinner at one of the many establishments for which St. Martin is rightly renowned. Again, my idea of heaven. Each day, I would talk to Julia on my phone and was thrilled to hear of her adventures. Now it was just trying to find a way to make time stand still.

We continued to engage in friendly conversations bahis firmaları with Ted and Mari-Ellen. Ted and Richard really hit it off, having several common interests. Mari-Ellen was sweet and shy but comfortable enough in her own image to wear a tight one-piece bathing suit that showed off her ample curves. She was no 21st century stick-figure model that was for sure but carried her weight well. Her breasts looked like they were making a serious effort to avoid containment and she giggled more than once as she pulled on the top of her suit to bring them back to their proper place.

On Wednesday, we extended an invitation to the couple to join us for dinner and they happily accepted. We drove to nearby Grand Case and had a delightful meal overlooking the tranquil waters of a bay that looks across to neighboring Anguilla. Over coffee, Ted had a proposal. He and Mari-Ellen were scheduled to go on a sailing trip the next day. A company had purchased sailing yachts and took folks out to act as crew members as they raced. While Ted was thrilled at the prospect, Mari-Ellen was less so. She was convinced it was going to be an exercise in sea-sickness and was hoping to opt out with Richard taking her place. They didn’t want to intrude on our plans but wondered if Richard might enjoy such an adventure.

I know my husband and I acknowledge his love of sailing so I knew what his response would be. It was comical to watch him trying to contain his excitement as he waited for my reaction but I didn’t make him suffer. “Richard would be thrilled,” I said, “and it’s totally fine with me. How awful can it be to spend the day relaxing here?” Richard beamed, gave me a hug and a peck, and plans commenced concerning departure and return times. Mari-Ellen and I agreed to spend the day together finding ways to entertain ourselves. I swear, it never entered my mind …

My husband, however, was all too aware of the possibilities. As we lay in bed that night, reading prior to lights off, he put his book down and leaned toward me on one elbow. “So, might you have an interesting tale to tell me on my return from the high seas tomorrow?” he asked.

At that point, I was still clueless. “Tale? What do you mean?”

“You’re going to be spending the day with a pleasant, attractive woman. I just wondered …” Richard’s look was one of bemusement. Eventually, I caught on. I’ll admit to being flummoxed. I knew, of course, that Richard was aware of my activities as a result of a crazy night we had had in which all was revealed and wildness ensued. But we hadn’t talked about it since and I really worried that he had been hurt by the whole episode.

“Sweetie,” I began, “I promise you, it never crossed my mind. I just plan to have a relaxing day tomorrow and Mari-Ellen is just someone I look forward to hanging out with.” I paused and decided to press on. “Do you think about this whenever I’m in female company? God, what have I done? How have I complicated your feelings toward me?”

I must have looked quite troubled because Richard immediately tried to dismiss my fears. He took my hand in his and said, “Emily. Calm down. I told you before, everything’s fine. I’m totally comfortable with you and your friends. For whatever reason, it just doesn’t bother me. And, I’ve never admitted this to you before but … it even excites me a bit.” He smiled a somewhat goofy, totally endearing smile and continued. “I am a guy after all and things like this are, frankly, more than a little erotic to imagine. So, don’t worry. Enjoy. And, hell, feel free to share.”

My jaw was hanging so low I could’ve caught flies by the bushel. This was something I never expected. “Richard, you devil! All this time, I’ve been feeling guilty and it turns out, you’ve been turned on!?” My head was shaking left and right. “I hardly know what to say.”

My handsome husband reached across and took me in his arms. “Life is short, Em. Grab for all it offers.” But, after a pause, he added, “Just stay away from other men. That I couldn’t handle.” He then kissed me, softly, tenderly. An object pressing against my thigh, growing more insistent by the second, told me this kiss was destined to lead to more. Taking his beautiful cock in my hand, I broke from his lips and whispered, “There’s just one man I want. Now and forever. But, especially, now.”

Our travel alarm went off at 6:30. Still feeling woozy following some truly splendid sex, I found it hard to push myself from the bed but knowing that Richard and Ted needed to get an early start, I did so and went to the kitchenette to prepare a light breakfast. My sailor was out the door by 7:15, leaving me with a kiss and the words, “Have fun.” My answer was, “I’ll try. You be careful.” Ted was waiting for him and Mari-Ellen was standing beside him, wrapped in a light bathrobe. I asked her in for a cup of coffee and she took me up on the offer.

I couldn’t help it. After Richard’s bombshell of the previous night, I found myself looking at her differently. I noticed for the first time just kaçak iddaa how rose-colored and full her lips were. The robe was cinched so tightly that it highlighted those splendid boobs of hers. I had to reel myself in thinking how embarrassing it would be if she caught me staring. I asked if she had taken a morning walk on the beach and she hadn’t so I said, “Oh, you must. The light is amazing and the scenery is fascinating.” I explained that it was common to see several guests of the nudist resort from the far end of the beach walking in the early hours. While such behavior was discouraged during the day by the gendarmerie, it was generally tolerated before 9:00 a.m.

“You mean totally naked? Women and men? Really?” Mari-Ellen looked somewhat aghast. When I nodded in the affirmative, she giggled and said, “Then why are we sitting here? This I’ve got to see!” She stood, took one last sip and headed for the door. “I’ll get on my suit and be back here in five minutes. Yes, I am wearing my bathing suit.” I quickly slipped out of my shorts and tee and donned my favorite two-piece, threw on a loose-fitting caftan over it and prepared to take Mari-Ellen to the promised land.

We were on the sandy strand by quarter to eight. It was such a glorious place, particularly when one realized it was February. The waves created a rhythmic din to our left as we dug our toes into the firm, soft grains. There were other walkers heading in our direction and a few in the distance were approaching. I half-jokingly told my companion, “Now, behave yourself. Stare if you must, but be discreet. And, under no circumstances is grabbing allowed.”

Mari-Ellen giggled like a school girl and responded, “I’ll do my best.” Then she asked, “What do the men do if they … you know … get excited? Are erections allowed?”

“I’ve never seen one in this situation,” I answered. “I really think experienced naturalists don’t think of this as anything sexual. But, if it did happen, there’s always the ocean to dive into.” We laughed at the thought.

Within two minutes, the first nudists approached. A relatively fit, middle-aged couple, tanned from tip to toe, passed us, interrupting their conversation to nod a polite hello. Mari-Ellen waited until we were at a discreet distance before commenting, “Well, that was nice. And, he seemed quite relaxed. Everywhere.”

I smiled and said, “Mmm, that’s the norm. She had a really nice body, didn’t you think? Trust me, you see people here who really should stay covered up. But that’s wrong of me. If they’re happy and comfortable, God bless ’em.” Mari-Ellen nodded in agreement.

The farther we walked, the closer we got to the nudist resort, and the frequency of encounters with the resort’s guests increased. As I had indicated, we saw all sizes and shapes, some strikingly attractive, most just normal men and women who would never qualify for beauty pageants or the silver screen. Mari-Ellen seemed to take great joy in providing a running commentary, rating that which we had just passed. The highlight of the walk was a tall, thin fellow who, even in his apparently relaxed state, had a penis of truly impressive length. One could only imagine what it would have been like erect, a thought that my new friend took great pleasure in visualizing. “Wow. I’d pay to see that thing.” My Mid-American farm girl obviously had a lusty side to her.

We reached the low rock boundary that separated the nudist resort from the rest of the beach. “Care to cross the rocks?” I asked.

“Oh, we can’t. We’re dressed.” Mari-Ellen seemed somewhat disappointed as she voiced the words.

“Actually, I believe it’s clothing optional. I don’t think we’d be breaking any rules. We may annoy those who don’t care to be stared at like zoo creatures but I don’t see any sign prohibiting our using the beach there.” I smiled and gave a little head bob, indicating my desire to forge on. Mari-Ellen answered with a silent giggle and on we went.

Truth be told, I did feel a bit uncomfortable, like I was intruding on private turf. I think we both made an effort to seem like we were deep in conversation and unaware of the sun bathers we passed, but, at the same time, I knew Mari-Ellen was treating herself to discreet eyefuls at every opportunity. We did about another 200 yards before turning and retracing our steps.

On the way back, the best looking couple we had seen cut right in front of us on their way into the surf. He was dark-haired and exceedingly well-muscled while she was the prototypical California blonde with locks trailing to the top of her ass cheeks. His penis flapped a bit and her pear-shaped breasts bounced in a similar rhythm as they moved hand in hand to the waves. Other than on their heads, they were both totally hairless. It was actually quite lovely, like a Roman statue come to life. Mari-Ellen let out an appreciative sigh as we moved past and softly stated, “There go the chosen ones.”

We stopped for a bit of breakfast at one of the beach cafes and Mari-Ellen commented, “That kaçak bahis was really fun, Emily. Thanks so much for suggesting it. It’s funny how used you get to nudity after a little while. They all looked so at peace.”

“Thinking of trying it?” I asked, grinning slyly. “You know, there’s nobody around at our pool and it’s quite secluded.”

“Hmm. Let’s start with suits on but, who knows? Give me something tropical and icy to sip on and I might surprise even me.” We paid our bill with a hotel card and headed back to our place.

As always, our unit’s pool was deserted. A row of medium sized evergreens provided a screen from passers-by and, once by the side of the pool, you felt like you were in your own private Eden. We settled down into beach chairs and relative silence. I felt that I had found a real friend in Mari-Ellen, someone with whom I was truly comfortable, which meant we didn’t have to fill the air with constant chatter. It was simply pleasant being together.

After about twenty minutes, Mari-Ellen got up and walked down the steps into the pool. The expression on her face spoke volumes about how relaxed and happy she was. I stood up and asked, “How about something cold and frosty? I’m ready.”

“Oh, that would be great, thanks,” she answered while floating on her back, the round mounds of her breasts topped by erect nipples poking through the bright blue top of her swimsuit. I smiled and went off to play waitress.

We sipped relatively tasty pina coladas side by side in the lounge chairs. Mari-Ellen looked over, smiled, and said, “I will if you will.”

My quizzical look indicated my lack of cognition. So, rather than wait for the meaning to sink in, she sat forward and lowered the two straps from her shoulders. And didn’t stop there. Her bountiful boobs were released as she continued down, stopping below her navel. A wide grin let me know that she was having a great hoot of a time.

Who was I to let her stand alone? So, I reached around the back and unclipped my bikini top. I was staring at Mari-Ellen’s great set as my girls made their appearance. “Very nice, Em. They’re perfect.”

“Thanks, Sweetie,” I responded, “but I’d love to trade you, if just for one day. Yours are magnificent. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, my, yes. Heavenly. I’d love to take it all off but I guess we’d better not.” She actually looked disappointed.

“Yes, I think we’d better not. The hotel probably has rules, even here on the French side.” So we sat there, breasts on display just for the two of us, sipping our drinks and getting happily buzzed in a Caribbean mid-morning.

I watched Mari-Ellen as she wisely applied lotion to her breasts and it certainly seemed like she was enjoying the process a bit more than might be expected. We had had refills of our coladas and had entered into a fuzzy, utterly relaxed state. It wasn’t that surprising when Mari-Ellen re-opened the topic of beach nudity. “All those men, with their … things just hanging out. That was really something.” She stretched a bit and went on. “I have to admit, that really got me a little turned on.”

“Just a little?”

“Okay, a lot. I’m still warm just thinking about it.” Her hands were slowly rubbing up and down her thighs as she spoke and I was sure she wanted to rub higher. So, I decided to move the issue forward a bit.

“You’re not alone, Mari-Ellen. I’m working really hard to stay composed and ladylike over here.” I smiled and made a discreet but unmistakable swipe with my right hand from my neck and down diagonally across my breasts. Mari-Ellen’s eyes caught it and her look grew even more glazed. “Tell me,” I asked, “do you ever touch yourself?”

She nodded timidly and half-whispered her words, “Sure. Now and then.”

I sat forward, so that our faces were separated by only a couple of feet. “Well, I’m going inside. I need some release. It might be fun if you came with me.” I smiled as I heard my words. “I guess that had double meaning. Come.” I stood and turned my back on her, wondering if I had pushed too hard. The sound of her rising from her chair behind me answered that question.

We walked silently into the coolness of my room. Glad that I had made the bed and straightened up a bit earlier, I pulled back the brightly-colored bedspread and smoothed the top sheet while Mari-Ellen stood watching. “It’s a big bed,” I said. “We have plenty of room.” The muted whirring of the ceiling fan was the only sound in an otherwise incredibly still atmosphere. I took the lead, lowering myself to the bed, propping up a pillow behind my back, and removing my bikini bottom by hooking fingers into its two sides. All the time, Mari-Ellen stood above me, watching intently. No more giggling now. Instead, she gripped her bathing suit which clung to her waist and, with effort, inched it down her body, finally stepping out of it and posing before me.

I examined her fullness. She was a big woman, no doubt, but not unfit, just large and rounded. I thought of Renoir’s nudes for a moment but realized there were no rolls of fat on Mari-Ellen, just firm flesh. I sensed she didn’t quite know how to proceed and feared that she would panic in embarrassment, so I felt it was time to comment.

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