Jamaican Pleasures

"Sitting motionlessly, but still in sexual union, I looked up at the pitch black, star-studded sky and thanked my own lucky star. I had never loved so deeply or cared so completely. Of our many Jamaican pleasures, this moment was the best of all."

She looked radiant. In preparation for our Jamaican vacation, she made frequent visits to a tanning salon. Her tan lines soon disappeared, replaced by a golden glow covering her entire body. Looking much younger than her forty years, she recommitted to her Atkins diet and joined a fitness center. She bought sexy clothes. She even swapped out her belly button jewelry for a more glamorous ornament. My wife, Connie, is a naturally beautiful woman but, even more than usual, I felt a strong sense of pride as she strode beside me down the long corridors of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International. My love and lust for her filled my spirit as I contemplated our days ahead together in an exotic land. I couldn't wait to get to our destination, to see Jamaica for the first time, to visit the party resort and to get into her pants as much as possible. I reminded myself that getting into Connie's pants was merely a metaphor; we would be naked during most of our stay.

The 90 minute bus ride from the airport at Montego Bay to Negril where the resort is located was nothing short of thrilling. Jamaicans, I assume because of their English heritage, drive on the wrong side of the road. At least, that is my perspective having seldom ventured outside of the United States. We were warned that Jamaicans drive like they dance. I can certainly attest to that. Behind a wheel, they make Atlanta's highway commuters seem almost sane. (Well, not quite, but almost.) The roads are narrow, twisty and crowded with people, animals and on-coming traffic. The Jamaican solution for every traffic conundrum is the horn. Horns were always sounding warnings but only served to empower the overly aggressive drivers. Thankfully, we arrived at the resort safely. It couldn't have happened soon enough. Connie and I were psyched, having been told in advance that anything goes at Hedonism II (more commonly referred to as Hedo II, or simply Hedo), especially in the somewhat secluded nude area of the resort. Eager to discover this for ourselves, we were more than ready to shed our clothes, and our inhibitions, upon arrival.

Connie and I are nudists. Hedo is symbolically divided in half, one side for 'prudes' and the other for 'nudes'. Full nudity is expected in the nude areas of the resort, a concept we fully embrace. It seems to me that traditional nudists go out of their way to deny their sexuality, probably due to years of moral condemnation. Connie and I view public nudity much differently. We embrace the sexual aspects of being naked. A cool breeze and warm sun on naked skin is a turn-on for both of us. We find it highly sensual, like nature's own erotic massage. We love it. And we loved spending most of our hours at Hedo in a natural state, as God intended.

Connie and I are non-monogamists. I do not care much for terms like, 'lifestyle', 'swapping' or 'swinging'. These labels are misleading and tend to connote a much wilder behavior pattern than that which we engage in. A common perception brings forth images of Roman orgies and nothing could be further from the truth, at least for Connie and me. We do not attend wild orgies and, with two small children at home, have only a limited amount of time to socialize with other like-minded people. Nonetheless, when one or the other of us is attracted to someone else, within agreed upon limits, we will grant each other permission to play. Many, if not most, married people are non-monogamous, but play a dangerous game called 'cheating'. Cheating has no place in our relationship. We value the trust, honesty and open communications fostered by non-monogamy, behavioral characteristics that are life-giving to a committed relationship. However, not by design, but circumstance, I remained monogamous during our stay at Hedo. Connie told me I had opportunities. If so, this was never apparent to me. Connie, on the other hand, being a desirable female, had many more opportunities. She acted on only one.

By pure coincidence, two sets of friends were already at Hedo when we arrived. Their vacations overlapped ours by two days. Jim and April, a married couple, and Sharon and Jill, a bisexual female couple, greeted us when our bus pulled up to the open air lobby entrance. Jim and April wore only towels and flashed us as we stepped off the bus. This confirmed what Connie and I already knew; we were in for a really great time. We all embraced, genuinely happy to see each other. Jim and April helped us check in and promptly gave us a guided tour. I was immediately struck by the beauty of the grounds and the scenery surrounding us. Initially, I was disappointed that we were required to stay on the prude end of the resort, far from the nude beach and pool facilities. I soon changed my mind, highly appreciative of the beautiful gardens and views of the Caribbean Sea as we walked back and forth across Hedo's spacious campus.

Our friends departed two days later. As their bus pulled away, Connie and I stood proudly on Moon Hill and gave them the traditional Hedo farewell salute. It was hilarious until I stopped and thought about how our asses must now be permanently enshrined in numerous photo albums around the country. It seemed as though everyone on the bus had a camera or video recorder in their hands.

With one exception, the only time we left the confines of the resort, all of our days were the same. Connie and I operated on what is affectionately known as Jamaican time. We put our watches in a safety deposit box along with our other valuables and ignored time in a conventional sense. Instead, we listened to our bodies. We ate when we were hungry; we slept when we were sleepy and we had sex when we were horny. Our room was erotically equipped with an overhead ceiling mirror and a large wall mirror at the foot of our king size bed. I awoke each morning before Connie, viewing the overhead image of us lying together, naked and only partially covered by a sheet. I stared admiringly, thanking God for my blessings and the gift of her that for some reason He bestowed upon me. The view was sexual, but also loving and tender. As I held her in my arms, both my pride and my pre-urination erection swelled. Upon her awakening, we made love and then headed to the open air dining room for breakfast wrapped only in beach towels.

After breakfast, Connie and I proceeded to the nude pool where we spent the entire day in the water or by the water reading. Some days, we took the garden path; other days we walked along the beach. Always, we strolled slowly hand-in-hand, soaking up the ambience. After distancing ourselves from the prude and common areas, we removed our towels and sojourned to our cross-campus destination naked. For lunch, we ate jerk chicken served at the poolside grill. Nothing compares with Jamaican jerk chicken, especially when served poolside. And, of course, there was no shortage of alcohol. The all inclusive resort served drinks all day and most of the night at its many bars, including the convenient swim-up bar in the nude pool. I drank countless Red Stripes all day and night but never felt high. Connie indulged in numerous exotic mixed drinks.

Compared to our summers, it gets dark early in Jamaica. This is due to the country's geographical proximity to the equator and to the wisdom of not screwing up the natural order of things with daylight savings time. When darkness came, the pool and hot tub closed for cleaning. This was our clue to prepare for dinner.

There is something about Hedo that causes people to bond closely. Perhaps, it is the commonality of being naked together in a confined space. Each day, the social dynamics shifted slightly as some couples departed and new couples arrived. This shift made each day unique and kept things interesting. Connie and I quickly became friends with several new arrivals, including Amy and Tony from Houston. Amy is an attractive brunette in her mid-forties and a school teacher. Tony, who is about the same age, is the athletic type; he ran every morning at dawn on the beach. Getting up early is unheard of at Hedo, but he did it. In other respects too, they were Hedo virgins, too innocent to be there. I was introduced to them on their first day as they huddled around a ceramic in-pool table along with a small group of other folks. Several in the group were smoking marijuana. All were watching Connie being very naughty with a man whose name I did not yet know.

Only for the evening meal did Connie and I don clothing. The men dressed casually and the ladies wore their sexiest attire. After dinner each evening, we were entertained by a dinner show. Some of the shows were quite professionally done, showcasing the natural beauty of native Jamaican women. Dark-skinned and exotic in their colorful costumes, I was impressed and, at times, aroused by their song and dance performances. Some of the performers were gay men and I was amused by their ability to dance in stiletto high heels. After the show, we walked to the piano bar located in a near-by building. Following an hour or so of sing-a-longs, we then proceeded to the nude hot tub area. Here, we frolicked well into the wee hours of the morning before retiring.

Hedo was always highly sexually charged but the atmosphere turned positively electric at night. Couples flocked to the nude hot tub area for social and sexual interaction. Some came to watch, others to be watched. Some came just to get high. All came to indulge, in one way or another, in the available abundance of Jamaican pleasures. While intercourse was not uncommon, oral sex was clearly the sexual activity of choice. This was probably due to the absence of lubrication in the water and the impracticality of condom usage. Yet, other sexual activities transpired. One evening, four attractive ladies decided to put on a show for the men. Abandoning their partners around the perimeter of the hot tub, the women formed a circle in the center and began hugging, kissing and groping each other. Spotting Connie, they invited her to join in on the fun. She did so without hesitation. This was hedonism at its best, or at least at its visually pleasing best.

The only break in our daily routine occurred on the day after our arrival, our first full day at Hedo. That afternoon, Sharon and Jill decided to go in town to shop. They invited Connie to join them. After shopping, they planned to go to Rick's Café to watch the cliff divers perform. For some reason, the ladies wanted me to join them. Having no interest in shopping, but desiring to visit Rick's Café, I was coaxed into tagging along. Well, that's not quite true; I was seduced by Sharon's fondling of my genitals. Like most men, I'm weak. They shopped for what seemed like an eternity. Connie purchased a sexy see-through sarong and a slip over dress before I could convince her that we were running out of time and money. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at Rick's Café.

As athletic as any Olympian, the diver we watched performed incredible feats. The cliffs rise about fifty feet above a clear blue/green pool formed by the Caribbean Sea. Not satisfied with this height, the diver effortlessly climbed a tree, ascending another forty-five or so feet into the air. From this lofty perch, he performed gymnastics on a skinny tree trunk before making a perfect dive, falling nearly one hundred feet into the water. To return back to the top of the cliff for his next dive, he eschewed a convenient ladder and, incredibly, scaled a nearly vertical fifty foot cliff wall with bare hands and feet. Like Jamaicans everywhere, the divers hawk for tips. The more money the crowd chips in, the higher the jump. It was amazing to watch.

No higher than a three meter spring board, the four of us jumped from the baby cliff into the refreshing cool water. Sharon was afraid to jump at first, but finally mustered the courage. We clapped and cheered wildly, proud that she overcame her fear. Jill was even more courageous. She gave up after two failed attempts to jump from the fifty foot height. I admired her bravery for trying. Later, I told her she will succeed during her next trip to Hedo. I really think she will.

Hedo employees are not allowed to accept tips, but many hustle on the side anyway. While the ladies were preparing for their trip into town, I asked one to paint a stone for me. Planting painted stones is a Hedo custom. Walking along the paths, the stones can be found everywhere, usually bearing inscriptions of love. Mine read 'Stan loves Connie. 2004' and was beautifully done in bright colors. Before departing, I planted the stone in a garden near the nude pool. I told Connie about the stone, but did not disclose its location. I offered her a reward if she could find it. Immediately upon our return from town, she excitedly began her search.

Connie and Jim had enjoyed sex together several times in the past. He is handsome and Connie likes him a lot, both as a friend and as a partner for recreational sex. Prior to departing for town, I asked April for permission to offer Jim as a prize if Connie finds the stone. April eagerly agreed. However, upon our return, April sheepishly told me there was problem. It seems Jim had a prior commitment that evening, his last at the resort. Unfortunately, neither April nor I thought to clue Jim in on our little secret. Later, Connie found her stone and accepted a rain check from Jim. She is anxious to cash it in.

The day after all four of our friends departed for home, Connie turned sullen. She said little, wanting mostly to be left alone. I've seen this mood before and knew that all attempts on my part to cheer her up would be futile. I didn't try. After arriving at the pool that morning, I decided to leave her alone in the water. I read, and at times pretended to read, in a poolside lounge chair. Connie is a man magnet and I knew it would not be long before she was hit on. I also knew that the attention of another man would alter her disposition for the better. In a matter of only a few minutes, Bill approached her. He is single, handsome, in his mid-forties and a fellow Atlanta resident. They talked for a long time and people gradually began to gather around them. After awhile, I decided to be social and joined the crowd. It was then that I met Amy and Tony. Soon, a ganja joint was lit and passed around our circle. I declined, but was surprised when Connie took a long toke on the cigarette. She later told me that she and her first husband smoked socially on occasion, something she never disclosed to me before.

After a few joints were passed, Connie and Bill became increasingly brazen. He put his arm around her, stroking her breast and tweaking her nipple while the rest of us pretended not to notice. Connie grabbed his cock, skillfully causing it to stand at full attention. She showed no mercy, masturbating him at first slowly, then vigorously underwater. He started something and she was determined to make him finish. It became obvious to me that the funk had lifted. She was talkative, happy and in total control as she held Bill's manhood in her hand. Little did Bill know who was seducing whom. Connie knew exactly what she was doing and took him along for the ride. But, he had no cause for complaint. It was a good ride indeed.

It started to rain, just as it did briefly on most days during our stay. I suggested to Connie that she and Bill get a room. I would tag along, both for her safety and my viewing enjoyment. His room, being closer to the pool, was the logical place for the two of them to release their sexual tension. And that they did. I've witnessed many couples having sex. Couples who are experienced with one another move effortlessly. They anticipate perfectly the actions of their partner. Everything is smooth and their bodies flow together in a natural rhythm. It is a beautiful thing to watch. Inversely, couples who are new to each other are usually out of sync at first. They fumble and their unfamiliarity shows. Much to my surprise, Bill and Connie looked like they had been practicing for years.

Connie removed her towel and positioned herself on the bed. Bill followed and their bodies interlocked smoothly. She cradled the back of his head in her hand and he responded by kissing her passionately on the lips. Their tongues engaged in a soul dance, wildly exploring unfamiliar territory. My erection grew as I watched from the nearby window seat.

It's interesting the things that you notice when observing your wife fucking another man. Only in this instance, it didn't seem like fucking. It was somehow too intimate, too passionate. I couldn't take my eyes off her hand tenderly cupping the back of his head. Vicariously, I soaked up her sensual delights - the sight of her curvaceous body wrapped around him, the sounds of her pleasure, the taste of her lips, the feel of skin on skin, of tongue on tongue. On one hand, I wanted to trade places, to be Bill temporarily. Then again, I knew I was witnessing a special moment, a time when two people, still strangers, became one, albeit for only a few brief fleeting moments.

Bill shifted his focus to her nipples. Connie's nipples are one of her best features. They are always conspicuous and firm. I recalled yesterday afternoon when a gentleman decided to put them to a test by hooking his key ring on one of her nipples to measure its ability to support the weight of his keys. The nipple did so with ease, earning the praise of the nearby crowd. With no need to tongue her nipples to make them erect, Bill clamped on with his mouth and enthusiastically sucked each. After a time, Connie put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him further down her body, signally a desire for more intense pleasure elsewhere. Leaving a trail of tiny wet kisses along the length of her torso, he reached his destination. Gently, he opened her legs and buried his head between them. "God," I said to myself. "Those legs are gorgeous!"

Connie is a screamer. It's one of the things that I love about her. If you are doing something right sexually with her, you know it. Positive feedback is beneficial and Bill received plenty. She came again and again. I lost count after her fifth or sixth orgasm. When he completed his oral prowess, he asked her to get on top, cowgirl style. Soon, Connie was riding a wild bronco and, like a good cowgirl, stayed on for the count. She came again; he did not. After exhaustion set in, she played with his balls while he jerked off to relieve himself. His load shot out in spurts, forming little white puddles on his chest and belly. She let out a faint sigh of pleasure, a familiar sound I had heard many times before. Connie loves to watch a man shoot, to feel his warm cum. Whenever I come outside of her, she makes this same noise, a unique sound reserved for cum observance. Tenderly, she rubbed cum into Bill's chest much like she applied sunscreen to me just hours previously.

A couple of days latter, Connie and Bill again played in the pool. Foreplay was similar to their previous tête-à-tête but, while they each wanted more, time ran out before things could go any further. Connie and I had a dinner reservation at Pastafari (an upscale on-premises restaurant) and she needed time to get ready. They saw each other once more on our last day as we were leaving the resort. Like a school girl afraid of being caught passing a note, she slyly slipped her email address to him on a piece of paper. A part of me wants him to contact her because he gave her so much pleasure. Another part of me hopes she never sees him again. Unlike Jim, he is not in a secure, committed marital relationship. This makes him potentially a threat. Emotionally, I fear him. Logically, I know better.