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Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers
My husband Ted and I decided that after five years of marriage, we needed to splurge on ourselves and take a two week vacation to Barbados – and my twenty-ninth birthday would give us the perfect excuse. We both work in fairly high paying, high stress jobs, so treating ourselves took little additional thought – we hadn’t taken a trip of this kind together since our honeymoon.
We booked a suite at the Fairmont Royal Pavilion, in St. James, Barbados. It really was quite beautiful, and the ambiance certainly met our expectations. With plenty of things to do, suitable for couples as well as solo (I could NOT imagine taking Ted shopping!) it seemed like the perfect spot for respite.
It was perfect…but not in the way we thought.
“Nice,” Ted said. “Alexandra, your thoughts?”
“Lovely, quite lovely,” I said. “You do promise to keep your Blackberry turned off, yes? Your executive assistant is perfectly capable of keeping the wolves at bay for two weeks, I hope.”
“Yes, of course,” he said impatiently. “But you’re a fine one to talk – I challenge you not to fiddle with those architectural drawings for your company’s headquarters that I saw you download before we left.”
I sighed. “You know how important my position is in choosing the design…but, you’re right, we both need to let go…agreed?” I pecked him on the cheek, and so we sealed the deal – we’d each avoid work, and concentrate on fun. Of course, as professionals working in Manhattan, that’s easier said than done.
Our second day there, we scheduled a round of golf at Royal Westmoreland. With every green at the five star course overlooking the Caribbean, we were assured of beautiful scenery, even if our golf games were too rusty to give us a shot at reaching par. Luckily enough, we were paired up with a lovely couple about our age, to complete our foursome.
They were quite charming, and regaled Ted and I with stories of their real estate firm in Coronado, in California. Apparently, they were doing quite well in the heated Southern California market. It never hurts to make connections in such areas, though both Ted and I were usually more concerned with East Coast and European business associations.
They introduced themselves as Natalie and Jim Van Dyke, and they both seemed to be, well, the term that came to my mind, was “sun kissed.” She was absolutely beautiful – tall, blonde, blue eyed, lovely figure, immaculately dressed. He was strikingly handsome, tall, suntan and fit, his accessories understated and tasteful – they were the epitome of wealthy, successful America.
The contrast between our two couples, in coloration at least, couldn’t have been more marked. My hair, while long and curly, like Natalie’s, is dark, nearly black, a reflection of my Italian heritage, and I’m somewhat pale and fair-skinned. Ted, too, has dark hair, and is just as pale as me – office work does that to a person! And where Jim seemed to have little body hair, Ted is very hairy.
I found myself responding to Natalie, as though she had been a good friend all my life. I noticed Ted was the same with Jim. Their outgoing, personable natures were quite charming. It was no wonder then, that before we got to the 15th tee, we had arranged for Natalie and I to spa the next day, and for Jim and Ted to spend the day on a charter, fishing.
We finished the round of golf, and then retired to the lounge for drinks and conversation. We ordered a splendid 10-year-old Corison Cabernet, which we perhaps overindulged in. At any rate, after we had finished several bottles, and many, many sparkling anecdotes, I just could not hold my pee any longer. Natalie and I agreed to take our leave to visit the ladies’, while the men continued the conversation.
“Thank you for coming with, Natalie,” I confessed, as we made our way to the nicely appointed women’s lounge. “I’m afraid I’m a little tipsy.”
“So I see, Alexandra. Allow me to guide you,” Natalie said, helpfully, opening the door for me. We found ourselves quite alone there. She opened the louvered wooden door to the toilet, and helped me to sit. Then, to my surprise, she knelt between my legs, flipped up my golf skirt, and pulled down my panties to my ankles.
“Ohh,” I said. “I’m not that drunk,” I protested.
“I’m sorry, dear, it’s just that I once had a friend in similar circumstances who did pee her little panties. I’m just being cautious. And, how lovely, I love the bare look.” I didn’t even realize what she had said until a few minutes later. God, she’d stolen a glance at my pussy, and then commented on it! I was scandalized.
But also a little pleased. It’s not as though I could show off my bare pussy to my business associates, and ask them how they liked it. Sure, Ted had been thrilled when he saw that I went bare there a few months before, but it’s nice to get affirmation from an unbiased woman.And I had no close female friends that I could consult with – other women have called me a ‘cunt’ and a ‘shark’, though I’m sure it’s more due to my business practices than canlı bahis anything else.
Anyway, Natalie closed the door on me so that I could pee in peace. I saw her body through the louvered slats of the toilet stall door – just ephemerally, tiny slices of Natalie and thick slices of the dark-stained wood – but I could see that she was admiring her body in the mirror that ran the length of the wall behind the sink vanity.
She had her body turned, her head turned to the side, her ass lifted up, her skirt pulled up just showing the curve of her panty-covered bottom, looking at the curve of the back of her thigh down to her calves. For some reason I felt a little thrill, as though she were returning the favor of seeing my bare pussy, by allowing me to see a sensual part of her body. I thought that it was rather erotic, in an Anaïs Nin kind of way. I noticed that she was stroking herself lightly between her legs.
I don’t know why, but I ran the tip of my index finger around my own clitoris, sending a delicious shiver through me. I suppose I owed Natalie for that – I subsequently seduced Ted, and we had such a pleasant bed time together that night after Natalie and I returned, and the couples parted for the night.
Ted even licked my pussy – he called it my ‘hole’ and then he licked my ass hole – my god, he’d NEVER done that – and fucked me rather fiercely until he came, shuddering, inside me. I don’t know WHAT got into him, but it was nice to orgasm for once.
The next morning, I woke up alone, a little confused, and then I remembered that Ted had to leave early for his fishing charter with Jim. The note he left on the coffee table confirmed that – such a considerate husband. It said that they wouldn’t be back until late, after dinner, so I supposed that Natalie and I might make it an all day thing.
I called Natalie, and we arranged to meet for breakfast about ten o’clock at the Taboras restaurant at the hotel. It was so lovely, and quite romantic, dining in the open air under palm trees, with the blue Caribbean just a few steps away. I suppose that romantic dining places can be blamed for many seductions, but…well, soon enough you’ll know.
“I could make arrangements at the spa here, it looks lovely,” I said.
“Oh, please, allow me,” Natalie said. “There’s a spa here on the island…very exclusive, by invitation only. Let me make the reservation.”
“That sounds exciting,” I said. Natalie pulled out her phone and placed a call.
“There – it’s done. We can go directly there after brunch.” We continued our pleasant meal, and I took in Natalie as we talked. I had thought her beautiful yesterday – today, I thought of her as extremely sexy, as well, and my thoughts ran to contemplating her body. I could see the shape of her breasts – full, and mature. I thought she might have had them augmented. They were nearly perfect and round, which I find attractive. I wondered about her nipples – large areolae? Small nipples? Who knows?
Her beach robe gave away little, of course. Her outline was classically feminine, wide hips, relatively narrow waist, nicely shaped bottom. I reflected on my own shape – my breasts are smaller, but I think stand up higher on my chest, as I thought I detected a slight sag in Natalie’s. My shape is slim, as I work out a good deal, but my hips aren’t as wide, nor my waist as waspish as hers. And sadly, my ass isn’t nearly as shapely as hers.
Natalie stopped talking at one point. “What are you thinking?” she asked, with a small smile.
“Honestly, I was thinking of how nice you look,” I said. “How do you do it?”
She smiled again. “I just try to enjoy life, and not worry about things,” she said. “I don’t try to one-up people, to show them how smart I am – I just enjoy what they have to offer, and try to return the favor. You should try it, you’ll see how easy it is, and we can start at the spa. Besides, it’s time to go.” The doorman called for one of the island cabs, and we headed out.
We arrived about fifteen minutes later at a nondescript doorway of a nondescript, industrial looking building in a slightly seedy part of Bridgetown. “Are you sure this is right?” I asked, looking from the driver, to Natalie, and back.
“Don’t go by exterior appearances,” she said, smiling. The driver just shrugged.
We entered, and, oh my! The inside was a beautiful fantasy of orchids, soft orchestral music and lovely furnishings. The air smelled of soft, sweet floral fragrance, and I immediately felt at ease.
“Welcome,” a soft, feminine voice cooed. I looked over to see a lovely, young café au lait island girl walking over to greet us. She wore a softly colored, bare-shouldered animal print maxi dress that made her look perhaps younger than she actually was.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she said, as she took our purses. I looked at her anxiously, but Natalie put her hand gently on my arm.
“They can be trusted implicitly,” she said. “You’ll see.”
I had to take a leap of faith, since I didn’t know Natalie that well. I swallowed, and nodded, and the bahis siteleri girl led us past a wall of greenery, lit by several skylights, to an open courtyard about thirty feet by thirty feet, with native trees corkscrewing their way up to the sunlight, and flowers everywhere. Colorful birds flitted about.
“My goodness, you’d never know you were in the city,” I marveled. The girl smiled.
“Some say this is the most beautiful spot in Bridgetown,” she said, her white teeth showing in her smile. “But the only people who know for sure, are the lovely women who have been here. Thank you for bringing your beauty to our paradise.”
She showed us to two substantial cane massage tables, draped in long, white thick sheets made of some sort of luxuriantly soft terrycloth. “Please disrobe there,” she said, pointing to a corner of the courtyard, where a large divider stood covered in fabric, with a triptych of what looked like nude and beautiful, young island girls assisting a sophisticated looking, slightly older white woman to undress.
“That’s better than a list of instructions,” I joked, looking at Natalie. She was already taking off her jewelry, starting with her necklace, so I joined her. There were small, free standing cabinets to take our personal belongings and clothes, with a niche for everything. When we were down to bra and panties, I looked at Natalie. “Everything?” I asked.
She looked around the divider. “Robes, please,” she said to someone, and we were handed simple, short toga-like garments made of a soft, silk-like fabric – probably a synthetic, but it still felt ‘rich’. I unhooked my bra, and laid it on the cabinet.
“Your breasts are every bit as lovely as I had imagined,” Natalie said, her eyes a little hungry. She took off her bra.
“Um, thank you,” I said. “Yours are quite beautiful,” I responded. “I sometimes feel badly because mine are small,” I apologized, although I wasn’t sure why I said that.
“May I?” Natalie asked, her hands curving to fit my breasts.
“Um,” I said. I couldn’t say more, who gives another woman explicit permission to feel her breasts, short of a gynecologist, or a ‘breast buddy’?
Natalie went ahead and cupped my breasts in her hands. I didn’t object. Her hands were warm, and exquisitely gentle. Sometimes, when I’m swollen, my breasts are tender. It was as though her hands knew that. Her thumbs flickered over my nipples, just barely touching them, and they stiffened, the flesh crinkling tight, my nipples pointing out.
“Wonderful reaction…your husband must be thrilled to have these in his mouth.” I was shocked at the boldness of her suggestion.
“Shouldn’t we finish undressing?” I asked nervously.
“Of course,” Natalie said. “I was so carried away by your attractive boobs.” I used to hate people who referred to women’s body parts like that. I thought it was so demeaning. Just like pussy, or cunt, or ass. All meant to make women into parts. I’ve come to rethink that point of view, though.
We finished undressing. I admit that I looked at Natalie’s vulva when she slipped off her panties – it was only fair. She, too, was bare there, and I have to admit, her vaginal area was very pretty, her labia and clitoris small and demure. Very feminine.
We slipped on the togas, and I have to admit that they were flattering, though daring, the hem stopping about an inch below our pudenda. We were led to the tables, and lay down on our stomachs, with a place to rest our heads. A cute young girl, similarly dressed, came over and smiled at me, indicating with her hands and smiles, and a few words spoken in the lilting dialect of the island, what she wanted. I loosened the toga, and she pulled it off my arms and shoulders to cover just my otherwise bare bottom. I could see that the same was happening to Natalie.
“I am going to massage your upper body, will that be alright?” she said in the lilting patois of the island. I nodded as best I could, nervous as I was. She, too, had a complexion that was ‘coffee with cream,’ similar to a deep tan, and with lovely, dainty facial features, and a petite, small body. Her breasts, though, seemed out of proportion with her body, as though she had gotten enlargements. Her hair was tightly curled.
“Alright,” I grunted. Her fingers began at the top of my shoulders, just ethereal ghost touches, barely noticeable, skating over my shoulder blades like fairies skimming blades of dewy grass. I could feel my own nervous tension evaporating as her magical touch sucked away the tightness in my upper body. I groaned from the carnal pleasure of it. The girl giggled.
“It is always the same,” she remarked to the girl attending similarly to Natalie. I could hear Natalie’s small sounds as she, too, was treated in such lovely, caring fashion.
The girl’s fingers traced a complex pattern down my back to my waist, apparently following muscle groups, my tensions vanishing, only to be replaced by a new kind of tension. I felt a liquid tickling at my pussy, and I realized that I was wetting, my body producing my feminine lubricant, bahis şirketleri as though it expected to be fucked.
I moaned with a growing need – her fingers stopping at my waist, while fine for my modesty, was not helping my growing lust for completion. I wriggled my butt from side to side, indicating my desire for more. The girl leaned down to my ear and whispered, “Soon enough,” her sweet, warm breath racing across my ear, exciting me more. I almost expected her to touch my ear inside with her little pink tongue.
“Oh god,” I thought, “She’s really turning me on.”
The girl continued caressing my back, infuriatingly going no farther than my waist, but at least increasing her pressure with each pass over my upper body, actually drawing out more tension rather than increasing my sexual frustration, which remained at a high level. Finally though, she leaned down again and whispered, “Now I will do your lower body.”
Rather than being shocked, I was thrilled when she did, indeed, lingeringly touch the inside of my ear with her warm, wet tongue. I moaned, and ground my clit into the terrycloth pad, feeling small tendrils of pleasure radiate out from there, both decreasing some of the frustration, but also building the pressure inside me to seek greater release. Her light giggle sounded like small bells tinkling in the wind in a garden of pleasure.
Her fingernails, short as they were, still scraped over my hips and ass as she slowly pulled away the gown, cool air meeting my overheated flesh and orifices. My anal pucker tightened and relaxed several times as it reacted to being exposed, and the girl giggled again, her girlish sounds contrasting with her knowing ways with my body.
To my surprise, though, she completely ignored my ass, and went instead to one of my feet, starting with my toes and manipulating them more roughly than she had my back. The effect, though, was the same. I could feel the tension both dissolving, and a different tension being directed to my core, up my legs to my hips and thighs, and ultimately, to my clit.
She squeezed my feet hard, which I found very satisfying, for if she had caressed them, the tickling would have shocked me right off the table. It seemed that she knew exactly what she was doing. She flexed my ankle and knee, moving them around and pulling them so that I could hear creaking and cracking as tensions flowed away. It was by far the best massage I had ever received.
Then she did the same to my other side, but I noticed something very different. Instead of approaching that side of my body by walking around the table, she stayed on the same side as before, which caused her own body to press into mine. Her hips pressed into my side. I could feel the heat, and even the moisture of her bare vulva pressing into me, and the soft curls of her trimmed, but still abundant, pubic hair.
I was shocked, but excited, too. I had never been in contact with another female’s pubic region before, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it just an accident, or ‘one of those things’ that happened with these kinds of massages, or was she coming on to me?
More than that, though, what should I do? I certainly didn’t want it to stop, as the intimate contact of her sweet, young body with mine, was both exciting and calming. I admit that my pussy was creaming at the thought of another girl’s pussy against me, and the growing fantasy of her pussy actually touching mine – though I knew that would never happen – I was, after all, no lesbian!
The girl, though, acted as though the contact was meaningless, continuing with her ministrations to my other foot and lower leg, working them to drive away physical tension, while driving me mad sexually.
She finally worked her way up to my thighs, working the muscles in the backs of my thighs fairly hard. That relieved me, as a light touch there might have made me shriek from both my ticklishness and the proximity to my drooling pussy. I heard soft, cooing sounds of pleasure coming from Natalie’s table, but I couldn’t tell what was happening, since my head was turned away from her, plus there were some flowering plants situated between us, further obscuring things.
Finally, the girl put her hands on my ass cheeks. Never before had I so desired that someone touch me there. She removed the gown that I had been wearing, so that I was now totally nude, and I found the sensation of being naked with this beautiful young girl, herself nearly nude, liberating and exciting, to the extent that I experienced a faint echo of an orgasm, a heightened spasm of pleasure radiating from my clitoris, through my body, but fortunately not causing me to moan in passion. She squeezed my bare, plump, round butt cheeks almost to the point of pain, and I found the sensation oddly exciting, akin to the pleasure I had felt on the rare occasions that Ted had decided to spank my ass.
I heard someone moan, “Oh, yess, more,” and was shocked to realize it was me. Then my thoughts regarding that disappeared when I heard a joyous shriek from Natalie’s table, followed by, “Oh god YESS!!” I turned my head to see, and smiled when I made out that the girl had her hand between Natalie’s thighs directly on her pussy, her finger going in and out of her slit. This spa was turning out to be a wonderment!
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