Jean and the Great Beach Charade

This time, things would be different, a lot different. I had made my plans as soon as I confirmed the dates for the review. I booked all of my reservations two months in advance. The review was early in April when the weather was more comfortable. Instead of flying back on Friday after the review, I was staying another week for a much-needed vacation. I had booked a deluxe suite at the best hotel on the beach. It was on the ground floor with a patio that led out to the beach. The interior courtyard had a beautiful Olympic size pool with palm trees and patio bar.

The biggest difference was that I hadn't invited my wife this time. When I told Jean I was going to be working for two weeks at Eglin, she told me to have fun and went back to reading a contract she had brought home from work. The person I was nervously waiting to arrive was Cathy. She was a colleague of Jean's that I had met at their company picnic. Both women were gorgeous, but Cathy's personality was bubbly and fun loving. She was willing to try anything, while Jean was serious and reserved. I admired Jean's dedication to her career as a corporate lawyer, but Cathy was the women I wanted to spend the next week with. Fortunately, giving Cathy advanced notice allowed her to schedule the week off.

Cathy's plane was nearly three hours late. My face was pressed against the window as I watched her walk down the stairs from the plane. She was dressed for flying in khaki pants that hugged her athletic legs and gorgeous ass. Her sweater emphasized the curves of her generous breasts. I was pleasantly surprised that she had dyed her hair blond for me. I had once told her how beautiful she looked in a photo from high school when she was blond. I grew up in Southern California and love the combination of dark eyebrows and bleach blond hair.

Cathy waved when she saw me at the window, and her walk changed to a sultry strut. By the time she entered the terminal, I had an erection. She flew into my arms, and I groaned as she squeezed me hard.

Cathy said, "Are you Ok?"

"Sorry, I'm still a bit tender from my little procedure."

"Little procedure? I know that's what the surgeon told you before the operation, but after your long recovery, I wouldn't call it a little procedure."

I have to confess; I am a little impulsive. Ok, my wife says I am very impulsive, and it is her job to keep me in check. My wife and I had been trying to have a baby for nearly two years. It was fun coming home and finding her naked holding a cold bottle of wine. She would tell me she was ovulating, and I had a job to do before dinner. After two years of wonderful and frequent sex, I still hadn't gotten my lovely wife pregnant.

She got tested first, but a battery of tests confirmed she wasn't the problem. It turned out, I was producing plenty of sperm, but they were all dead on arrival. An aneurysm on my gonads was cooking my sperm leaving me infertile. My little procedure was technically a left internal spermatic vein ligation, but I called it my hot nuts operation.

The surgeon said it was an outpatient procedure. I immediately scheduled the procedure two weeks before my review in Florida. I expected to be back to work the afternoon after having it done in the morning. Fortunately, a nurse cautioned me that recovery normally took three to five days. That would still leave plenty of time to put the finishing touches on my final review and enjoy my vacation. It turns out the nurse was wrong as well. I got a drug-resistant infection that delayed my recovery. At the last minute, I managed to finish preparing for my review by working at home. The review was a success but left me exhausted. I was still weak and in some pain.

I changed the topic as we strolled arm in arm to baggage claim. "I love your hair. You look just like the girls on the beach when I was in high school. Any chance you mixed up a double batch of hair dye?"

Cathy laughed, "There was no need. I got a Brazilian wax job to go with my new bikini. There is nothing down there to color."

At that time, I had no idea what a Brazilian wax job was, but I understood what she meant by nothing. I replied, "Oh God, you are amazing."

Cathy stopped and gave me a deep kiss being careful not to squeeze me.

She leaned back and said, "You'll see just how amazing I am after you take me out to dinner."

I grinned and said, "Do you think Jean suspects anything?"

"I told her I was vacationing in Hawaii. I have some old postcards I'll put up around my desk when I return. Still, she glared at me yesterday at work. God, she is just too serious all of the time."

Ok, now that I have you convinced that I am an asshole for cheating on my wife, I'll tell you the truth about our latest charade. My wife, Jean, is pretending to be the hot and sensuous Cathy, a co-worker of hers. We have never engaged in a fantasy outside of our home or in one that lasted for a week. We even made a wager that if one of us breaks the fantasy at any time during the vacation, we lose the bet. If either of us acknowledges that we are married before we get back home, we lose the bet. To make the wager more interesting, we decided the winner will get to replace their old car. We both have decent jobs, but we bought a house in Fremont a couple of years ago. Money is tight, so both of us are driving ten-year-old cars. I have my eye on a Mustang. God knows why, but my wife wants a minivan. I don't plan on losing.

In keeping with her role as my mistress, Jean had left her wedding ring in California. I planned to refer to my wife as Cathy even in my mind to prevent any slips. It had been easy to convince Jean to pose as the seductive Cathy since it was her idea in the first place, and she is incapable of refusing a dare.

At her company picnic the previous summer she had paid for her inability to pass up a dare. She has a reputation at work for being a football guru. She has won five of the office weekly football pools for about a hundred dollars each. Her closest competitor has only won two of the pools. Actually, Jean knows very little about football, but she did very well using a betting strategy I devised. Most people bet based on their team loyalties and emotions which produce poor results. I told her to use the point spread in the paper. If the spread is over seven points, go with the favorite. If the spread is less than seven, flip a coin. The rules gave you a point for each win no matter what the score was.

The guys she had impressed with her football expertise, dared her to join in a flag football game at the company picnic. Of course, she dragged me into the game. Our opponents had an ex-college football player as a guard. He was in his late forties and overweight. No one wanted to block him, and Jean gave the guys a hard time for being chicken. The team captain called her on it and dared her to try. The guard weighed more than twice Jean's 125 pounds. The first play he knocked her on her cute little butt. The captain asked her if she had enough and Jean said she could take him. The next play she hit the big guy below his knees and took him out. He landed on top of her every defensive play for the rest of the game.

The next Monday instead of her standard pants suit, she wore a skirt and sleeveless blouse to show off her extensive collection of bruises. The president of the firm caught her in the coffee room raising her blouse to show off her bruised ribs. Jean thought she was going to be in trouble, but he praised her for her company spirit.

We walked through the interior courtyard of the hotel to get to our suite. The large bathroom was next to the door. A short hallway led to a decent size living room separated by a counter from a nice kitchen. Sliding glass doors led from the living room to a patio facing the beach. The bedroom with a king size bed was around the corner from the living room. The separation between the bedroom and bathroom was a bit odd. Otherwise, the room was wonderful, and the air conditioner worked.

I had the porter carry her bags into the bedroom and told Cathy to dress for dinner at a casual oyster bar.

Cathy emerged from the bedroom dressed in tight short shorts and a halter top that showed off her trim abdomen. She was holding a pair of Mary Janes in one hand, and four-inch-high 'fuck me' heels in the other.

"Which should I wear?"

"There is no dancing at this place, so you don't need flats. I like the heels."

My wife laughed, "What makes you think I can't dance in heels?"

My wife started taking dance lessons as a young girl. Jean continued with modern dance in college and still takes dance classes when her workload permits. She has tried hard to improve my dance abilities with limited success. Unfortunately, my dance moves are limited to free form rock.

My wife decided to demonstrate her ability to dance in heels and slipped them on. She had brought her Sony Discman and had set it up with a pair of portable speakers. She put on a CD of ABBA's Greatest Hits and started dancing to "Dancing Queen.

You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, digging the Dancing Queen

She danced alone to prove her point before dragging me in to join her. Freestyle dancing to rock is the limit of my abilities. As usual, I was aroused by her sexy moves.

I drove us a couple of miles to a hole in the wall oyster shack in Destin. A marketing guy had shown me this place and it was now a favorite of mine. There were only a handful of patrons, and we got to sit at the bar. The waitress drew us a couple of beers from the tap, and I ordered a dozen raw oysters for each of us. The oysters couldn't get any fresher since the oyster beds were in sight from the beach. I still find it hard to believe that anyone had ever sold oysters for a dollar a dozen. I guess they made their profit from the two-dollar draft beers.

We listened to Mike's stories as he shucked oysters from a bag that had been harvested just the day before. He was a big black former football player from Florida State, and never ran out of stories or laughs. He captivated Cathy with a tale about a man who ate 48 dozen oysters one night while his wife had 42 dozen. Cathy laughed along with Mike as his massive belly shook.

Cathy had had a long day flying in from San Francisco. Normally she can hold her own drinking but by her third beer, she was fading fast. I had to finish off the remain oysters from her fourth dozen. She was a bit unsteady walking in her high heels as I led her to the car.

I laid her on the bed and took off her heels. She whimpered goodnight as I tucked her in. I wasn't far behind her in getting to sleep.

We slept until noon on Saturday and were happy to discover that the hotel restaurant was willing to serve us a late breakfast. It was after 2 in the afternoon before we started to get ready to go out to the pool. Cathy disappeared into the bathroom to change. She had bought some beach wear from a catalog because the stores in Palo Alto were "too conservative." If she was going to play the role of mistress, she was going to do it right. Naturally, she hadn't shown me any of her purchases. I sat waiting in my swim trunks, tees shirt, and flip-flops.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing a gauzy floral print beach wrap that partially obscured a skimpy red string bikini. The wrap was just long enough to cover her suit bottom with three or four inches to spare. The front sides of the wrap overlapped by a couple of inches and were held together by a cloth belt. Cathy complained about the color of the purple flowered wrap clashing with the red bikini. It looked fine to me, but I'm both red-green color blind and a man, so my opinion was worthless. Cathy stated she would wear the outfit to the pool today but would never be caught dead in public with such jarring colors.

When we walked out the door to the pool, Cathy body was momentarily silhouetted by the sun. With the bright sunlight behind it, the gauzy wrap was practically transparent. I was hard before she even took off the flimsy wrap. The weekday crowd of government contractors was gone, and we had the pool to ourselves.

Cathy spread her towel on a chaise lounge and said, "Ready for the big reveal?"

She turned her back to me and dropped the gauzy covering. I was speechless at the gorgeous display of bare flesh. Today they make microkinis, trikinis, and monokinis but this was the early 80s, and I had only seen string bikinis in French movies. I haven't been to the beach in ages, so this sexy sight sent a shock to my groin. Cathy's upper back was bare except for a string tied behind her neck and another in the middle of her back. Most of her exquisite ass was bare except for a small triangle of red cloth. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

"What do you think? Is it too risqué for Florida?"

I moved my hands to cover my tenting swim trunks. I gulped and said, "It's perfect. You look amazing. Turn around so I can see the front."

Cath laughed and lay face down on the chaise lounge. She held out a tube of sunscreen and said, "Take it easy stud. I don't want you to get over excited and blow out your new plumbing. Be a dear and do my back. Please untie my top so I don't get a tan line."

She had to be kidding. Did she think rubbing lotion on her back was going to calm me down? I climbed on the chaise lounge behind her and straddled her hips. Rubbing lotion onto her athletic back was thrilling enough, but I got really excited when I brushed my fingers across the sides of her breasts.

"Stop that now, you naughty little boy! Just because no one is out here doesn't mean they aren't watching from their room. Now behave yourself and do my legs. Make sure you don't leave any skin untouched. This suit exposes a lot of skin that hasn't seen the sun since we went skinny dipping in college. I don't want to burn along the edge of the suit."

I laughed. Doing Cathy's long legs was hardly punishment. I started with her calves. Her legs moved apart as I worked my way up her thigh. The muscles in her dancer's legs were well toned and felt fantastic under my hands. I found it hard to take my eyes off of her barely covered and curvaceous ass. My fingers bumped against the narrow strip of cloth between her legs. The leg holes of her suit had elastic along the edge. Well, she did say she didn't want her pale skin to burn.

I used one hand to hold up the edges of the suit and applied lotion across most of her ass cheeks. She moaned when my lotion coated fingers slipped down her ass crack. So far, I hadn't seen so much as a hint of pubic hair.

"Thanks, Steve, I think I'm good."

I applied lotion to the front of my body before lying on my side on a chaise lounge next to her. I couldn't take my eyes off of the nearly naked woman next to me. I watched as her breathing slowed and she fell asleep. She had also had a rough month at work, and the jet lag compounded her exhaustion. A light breeze played with loose strands of her bleach blond hair. I woke up an hour later confused. I almost used Jean's real name when I woke her.

I shook her shoulder gently, "Cathy, Cathy wake up. You need to turn over, or you'll burn."

She smiled at me and said, "Can you tie my top for me?"

I was a little careless when I responded to her request. My pitiful attempt at tying a knot left her top a trifle loose.

She frowned at me and said, "Is that the best you can do?"

"Sorry, I was sick the day the Boy Scouts worked on their knot tying merit badge."

I inhaled sharply when she rolled over and sat on the edge of the lounge facing me. Finally, I got to see the front of her suit. The top of her suit consisted of strings and two small triangles of thin red cloth. Her ample breasts threatened to escape from every side. Her erect nipples thrust into the middle of the triangles. The bottom of her suit was a young boy's wet dream. To this day, I find it difficult to believe how much bare skin a woman can expose below her belly button without revealing the top of her pussy. Not that the clinging material hid her pussy lips very well. At the time I had never heard the expression "camel toe," but the sexy sight only added to my appreciation for her skimpy suit.

I lay back and watched enthralled as she applied lotion to the front of her body. Her poorly constrained breasts jiggled delightfully as she applied lotion to her graceful arms. When she got to her chest, she found it easy to slip her lotion covered hands under her loose bikini top. She stuck her tongue out at me as she took her time caressing her breasts.

Maybe I should have pointed out to her that we were no longer alone at the pool. She had been facing me the whole time since she woke up and hadn't noticed the four young men on the other side of the pool. I'd be lying if I said they weren't watching Cathy intently. Of course, they were trying to hide the fact that they were staring. She only realized we had company when six laughing young women came out to the pool. Of course, she glared at me again.

"How long have those guys been there?"

"They were there before I woke you up."

"Did they see me applying lotion to my breasts."

"I'm sure they saw you playing with yourself. I think the bulges in their swimsuits are strong evidence, consular."

She stared at me dumbfounded, "You let a pack of horny young men ogle your, your ... girlfriend while I was giving you what was intended to be a private show?"

Damn, she almost said wife. That would have been an easy win for breaking the fantasy. I could see that my best strategy was to keep pushing her comfort zone. My wife had only grown more cautious since our free spirited college years. On the other hand, my mistress, Cathy, was supposed to be flirtatious and seductive. I wondered how far I could push her.

I grinned, "Nice recovery, Cathy. Of course, I enjoyed the guys gawking at my beautiful girlfriend, but I think they enjoyed it even more. I hope they are jealous. It makes me feel like an alpha male. My wife is too modest for such an exhibition which is why I invited you on this vacation. Now, you had better do your stomach and the front of your legs before they burn. If you want, I'd be glad to do them for you."

Cathy scowled at me and said, "I think the boys will enjoy the show more if I do it myself."

"Then you better hurry because the young women are competing for their attention."

It was no contest. Cathy got the boys attention back by taking her time sensuously applying lotion to her long legs and trim abdomen. When she laid down on her back, she left her legs slightly spread. She tugged on the bottom of her suit pulling the narrow strip of cloth deeper into her slit. The swell of her bare pussy lips peeked out. Next, she adjusted her loose top. How was she to know that she had accidentally pulled the top up far enough to expose her areola? However, I have a feeling she had practiced every move at home in front of a mirror. You don't become a rising corporate lawyer without being prepared. I assume she had practiced her moves for my benefit, but now I had gotten her angry enough to display her sensual body to complete strangers.

As much as I wanted to win our wager, I have to admit that I was also excited by the attention she was receiving for flaunting her gorgeous, barely covered body. We had both somehow managed to get a week off at the same time, and I was eager to recapture the excitement of our college years. Adding to my enthusiasm was the knowledge that my operation meant that I was now fertile. Jean had been off of birth control for three years, and we were eager to start a family. I had carefully arranged for our vacation to occur the week of my wife's peak fertility.