The Resort

It's been a little while since my last post. The time I have to write is few and far between this time of year, but I hope you enjoy this one-off story. I hope to return to my Dancer series next.

Please give this a rating and a comment. They do make the effort worthwhile.

Chapter 1

"Can I get another?" I lifted my empty glass toward the gentleman behind the bar. Poor guy, I thought to myself. He must have been in his 60s, and his white dress shirt was soaked in sweat. The cabana was shaded, but that didn't help much as the temperature was nearing triple digits and it wasn't quite noon yet

The breeze from the water made things bearable, but even in my bikini top and light skirt, I was uncomfortably warm. This guy, in his shirt and khakis, the resort's employee uniform, wasn't dressed for the weather.

"Pina colada?" he asked, confirming my drink.

"Please."

"Has your stay been pleasant so far?" he asked, making chit chat while mixing my drink.

"It's been nice," I plastered a smile on my face. He looked like he was waiting for me to elaborate, but I wasn't in the mood. The resort was beautiful, and it felt wonderful to be out of the dreariness of Michigan in January, even if it was hotter than I preferred. But no matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew I made a mistake coming here.

Vacationing to a romantic resort filled with happy couples only a month after a break-up was a strategic error on my part. But I'd already paid for the trip, so why should I miss out because Mark couldn't keep his dick out of his secretary?

My dad even offered to reimburse me for what I'd be out, but I didn't want his money. I really didn't want him to come to the rescue of his little girl. I knew he meant well, and I love him and I know I can always count on him, but there comes a point when you just want to stop needing to be bailed out.

The bartender set my glass back down on the bar, a large wedge of pineapple and a cherry garnished the rim of the glass. I popped the cherry into my mouth then took a sip from the straw. Fuck, it was good. The bartender didn't go light on the rum, but it wasn't overpowering either.

Around the corner of the bar where I sat, was a couple who appeared to be in their late 50s, maybe 60s. He had a full, neat head of salt and pepper hair while she had thick, wavy brown hair that fell below her shoulders. They were both fit and slim and talked to each other with smiles and laughter filled the conversation. Wedding rings were on their fingers. They might have been together for 25 or 30 years, but they looked like they were just dating. I'd always imagined I'd find a best friend, get married and grow old with that person, never growing tired of them. This couple looked like they'd managed just that. As for myself, however, after 18 months with Mark were flushed down the toilet, I felt very much like an aging spinster among the happy couples at the Island of Palms Resort.

I took a long drink from my glass, too much for one gulp I realized, too late, as drips of pina colada dribbled from the corners of my mouth and fell to my chest. I quickly dabbed myself with a paper napkin, stood up a little light-headed from the rum, and made my way to the pool. I figured an hour or so under the sun to trade in my pale Michigan complexion for a Bahamas tan.

I found a chaise lounge near a corner of the pool. Whether it was in school, at a bar or at a pool, I've always preferred corners. They allow me a good view of my surroundings. I liked to joke it was a vestige from my reptilian brain, a survival instinct. Really, it was just because I'm a fairly observant person and I enjoy people watching.

The pool was a good change of scenery. It was crowded. It allowed me to blend in without my single status being obvious to anyone but someone like myself, who made a point to notice things.

I slipped my sandals under the chaise lounge, set down my purse, while removing the book I planned to read. I sat down, lotioned myself up: legs, arms, neck and chest -- I wanted a tan, not to turn into a lobster.

The resort really was luxurious and there were beautiful people everywhere I looked. To my right, separated by an unclaimed lounger, was a blonde woman laying on her chest facedown. Her golden-brown skin glistening in the sun with the strap of her top undone and her tiny white swimsuit bottom covered little, leaving few tan lines. Next to her, lay a man with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest, sunglasses on his face, arms and hands at his side. He could have been asleep for all I could tell.

A couple chairs to my left were three women, all of whom were about my age, early to mid 30s, two brunettes with a blonde in between them, chatting about nothing in particular. The blonde and the brunette furthest away from me both wore tiny, string bikinis while the brunette closest to me, having a larger chest, required a little more fabric, but exhibited ample cleavage all the same.

There was a pair of young couples in the pool, not far from me. The women sat on the shoulders of their men and playfully fought one another, trying to send each other into the pool. It was mildly amusing at first, but as they continued to play, they were rather oblivious to their own shouting and the water they were splashing on those nearby, including me a few times.

The tanning blonde also got splashed on more than one occasion, which was enough to make her lift her head and irritably look at the pool. She sat up, slipping her top into place in the process, and adjusted herself to lay on her back.

A resort worker, like the bartender, dressed in white dress shirt and khakis, walked along the opposite side of the pool and approached where the couples were still playing chicken. He waived at them to get their attention. I couldn't hear him speaking to them, but I didn't have to think hard to surmise what he told them.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" shouted one of the girls, who wore her black hair in a short bob cut.

"Who is being disturbed by us?" the other demanded, she wore her hair in a long braid down her back.

The worker kept his voice low, clearly trying not to make a scene. The guys didn't seem bothered, but the girls were having none of it.

"We're not being that loud!" said the bob cut.

The braided girl looked around for support. "Are we bothering anyone here?"

"Yes," the blonde to my right and the man next to her both called. To my left, the three women, bolstered by the couple, quietly raised their hands into the air. Others in the area nodded or otherwise gestured their agreement. Even though the girls' argument was soundly rejected by nearly everyone, they focused their anger on the couple who were the first to speak up.

"Are you fucking kidding me? We're not hurting you."

The blonde's voice remained level, even kind of bored. "You didn't ask if you were hurting anyone. You asked if you were bothering anyone. You were being loud and splashing me. That bothered me."

The girls by now had climbed off the shoulders of the men they were with and though they knew they were defeated, weren't going to go quietly. "Aren't you just a delicate little bitch?" the first girl called to the woman.

"Why come to the pool if you don't want to get wet?"

"I'll get wet when I want to get wet, not because some clueless kids are being rude," she replied coolly.

"I'm not being rude, you're being rude, bitch!" the braided girl called.

"You asked a question. She answered it," the man in the sunglasses next to the blonde answered. "Don't ask a question if you don't want to know the answer."

"Fuck you, asshole," she said as she climbed out of the pool. The girls walked over to a chair where their things lay. They slipped on their flip flops, wrapped towels around their waists and stormed away.

"Have a nice day," the blonde called after them as they exited the pool to the amused laughter of those remaining.

Smiling, the blonde glanced my way, "I probably shouldn't have twisted the knife at the end," she said. "But you're supposed to have fun on vacation, right?"

I laughed. "I think she had it coming," I replied. "Thank you for speaking up. I wish I could be more assertive."

She smiled again, showing off a wide mouth of pearly white teeth. "I wasn't trying to be rude. More than anything, I was really trying to help the worker, they didn't seem like they were going to make it easy for him."

"That was really good of you. A lot of other people raised their hands after you two spoke up."

"Bitches woke me up, splashing water on me," the man next to her said. Through the scene with the girls, he hadn't moved an inch. Other than speaking he gave no indication he was even awake, let alone listening to anything anyone was saying.

"They got me too," I added. "Are you two together?"

"This is my husband, Steven," she said. "That sounds weird to say. 'Husband'" she laughed and glanced to Steven, who moved his head slightly to the woman and gave her a smile.

"Sounds weird to hear," he agreed.

"So, you're newlyweds?"

"Three days ago," she held her left hand out to me, showing me a sizable diamond on a gold band. "I'm Stacy."

"Nice to meet you. Congratulations. That is so exciting."

"Thank you." Stacy sat up in her chair and reached into her bag on the ground under her chair and pulled out a bottle of sun lotion. She squeezed the bottle, but nothing but air came out the top. "Jesus, Steven, how much did you use?"

"As much as I needed," Steven answered, unhelpfully.

"This was like half-full when I used it before," Stacy shook her head at him.

"That's what happens when you marry this much man," he grinned.

I reached into my bag, "here, I have plenty," I held out the bottle to her.

"Thank you so much." She got up from her seat and reached over the chair between us and took the bottle. Stacy's hair was a bright yellow blonde, natural and pretty, falling past her shoulders. The white bikini top covered a pair of round B-cup breasts. She had a flat stomach and shapely legs.

"No problem at all. I'm Jessie, by the way. How long is your honeymoon?"

"We're here through the week," she told me. "This place is amazing. We went scuba diving yesterday, it was incredible."

"We went snorkling, not scuba diving," Steven corrected.

"Whatever," Stacy brushed him off. "The point is, I got to pet a shark." We both laughed. "We're going parasailing this afternoon."

"Is that where you're in a parachute being towed by a boat?" I'd seen videos of it, but decided being someone's personal kite wasn't my cup of tea.

"Exactly! I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie." Stacy continued to apply the sunscreen to her skin. She started from the ground and worked her way up. She began with her feet, then her calves, shins, thighs. The bottom of her bikini strained to keep her covered, a pretty cameltoe showed through the fabric. She moved to her taught stomach, before rubbing the lotion into her chest, I was momentarily hypnotized as I watched the white liquid disappear into her breasts. I'd never been with another woman before, can't say it really appealed to me. But I do certainly appreciate a beautiful woman just as I can an attractive man. Stacy and Steven were clearly both.

"Where are you two from?"

"Originally from California, but we live in Dallas now, moved there a year ago. Got married there. Love the city. So much to do. Hate the Cowboys, though."

"Fuck 'dem Cowboys!" Steven said, maybe a little too loudly, in a mocking imitation of Jimmy Johnson's famous quote.

"We're 49ers fans," Stacy smiled.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a large animal veterinarian," she said.

"You're in the right place for that line of work."

"I am. Lots of horses and cows."

"And Steven?"

"He's a personal trainer."

"I get rich, old ladies to do jumping jacks," Steven joked.

"No, he's really great at what he does."

"I'm sure he is," I said, realizing I may have just oogled Stacy's husband right in front of her. If she noticed, she didn't let on. Steven was something of a physical specimen. Broad shoulders, thick neck, muscled arms, chiseled chest and abs. He looked as though he stepped out of the pages of a Men's Health. Stacy, meanwhile, could have been a magazine cover girl herself. At that moment, I couldn't remember ever meeting a better-looking couple.

"What about you? What do you do when you're not basking in the sun in the Bahamas?"

"I'm a reporter."

"Oh? Like on TV?"

"No, newspapers. Not many people read them anymore, but I'm hanging on."

"What's your... do you call it a beat?"

"That's the word," I said. "I split my time doing the crime beat. Crimes and courts. I also do enterprise features, telling people's stories. Often, they're crime victims. I tell their stories, how they recover from their experiences, move on, continue living after the unthinkable."

"Oh wow. That sounds like it's hard."

"It can be. But it's also extremely fulfilling. When someone entrusts you to tell their story and you're able to do it justice, it's a pretty good feeling."

"Who do you write for?"

"The Detroit Chronicle."

"Detroit? Jeez, I bet the crime beat keeps you plenty busy, then." Stacy said. I brushed off the shot she took at the city. Detroit's reputation really isn't fair. It has its problems, sure, but so does any other city. "Sounds like you've earned your vacation,"

A waiter carrying a notepad walked up to us.

"Can I get you ladies anything?"

"I want to buy the newlyweds drinks," I told him, gesturing to Stacy and Steven. "Bring them whatever they like."

"You don't have to do that," Stacy said politely.

"No, but I want to."

Stacy paused for a moment, before turning to the waiter. "Long Island Iced Tea, please."

"Sir?" he asked Steven.

"Just a cold beer for me."

"Anything for you, Ma'am?" he asked me.

"Now, I'm fine," I handed the man a handful of bills to cover the drinks and leave enough for a nice tip, then I stood up. "I had a couple pina coladas earlier and, sitting in this sun, I'm starting to feel them a bit, so I think I'm going to head off and find a little air conditioning. It was really nice talking to you two. Maybe we'll see each other again. Enjoy parasailing."

With that, I picked up my bag, slipped my sandals back on and made my leave. For some reason, I hoped they were watching me as I walked away and that our paths crossed again while we were here.

CHAPTER 2

After I left the pool, I returned to my room. Like everything else on the resort, it was first-class. The outside wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The door opened into a small hallway which led into a sitting space, with a large OLED television, matching set of chairs, sofa and loveseat. Through a door on the right led to a huge restroom, with multi-person shower, an extra-large clawfoot bathtub and a hot tub. To the left of the sitting space, was the bedroom, equipped with another television and a massive bed, easily a King-and-a-half sized. I'd never laid in a bed so large and it took some getting used to. I could get in on one side and completely roll over four times before nearing the edge of the other side.

Of all the things about being in the resort that made me feel depressed about my newly-single status, the bed was the worst. It seemed to scream, "I'm designed for fucking, but you have no one!"

But it was a comfortable fucking bed. When I returned to my room, I immediately slipped out of my skirt and bathing suit and climbed into bed naked. I didn't typically sleep nude, but I was on vacation and since the windows were one-way, where people outside couldn't see in, I figured, what the hell?

My intention was to just close my eyes for a little while and let my system absorb the rum from the pina coladas, but before I knew it, I woke up and four hours passed.

"Shit, I slept the day away," I muttered to myself. I considered just rolling over and going back to sleep but had a growling in my stomach that told me I needed food.

The resort contained a number of places to eat, ranging from bar and grills, to sushi and seafood, to a 5-star gourmet restaurant, called Che Paradise. I hadn't been there yet, but I'd decided on my first day at some point on my trip I'd treat myself. This seemed like as good a time as any. I climbed out of bed and took a shower before getting dressed.

While the other eateries had a very casual dress code -- many people would roll in from the beach in their thong bikinis, swim trunks and sand in their toes -- Che Paradise was the resort's lone exception.

I brought one nice dress with me for the trip. A black silk, strapless gown with a plunging neckline that showed off my ample C-Cup cleavage with high slit that went to my mid-thigh. I wore a single-diamond necklace which further drew eyes to my breasts. So often for work I dressed modestly. Professional, but nothing ever close to revealing. Neither a newsroom, a police station, courthouse or the home of the person I'm interviewing, is a place for a pushup bra, miniskirt or four-inch heels. And since I walked in on Mark with his pecker inside his secretary, I was short on moments where I felt good about myself. I wanted to feel sexy and attractive again.

I spent an hour getting ready. I usually wore my thick, black hair pulled back. Tonight, I gave it some curl and allowed it to cascade down around my face. I applied dark red cherry lipstick to amplify my modest lips and mascara always made my forest-green eyes pop that much more.

When I left my room, I thought I looked nice. When I stepped off the elevator, I knew I looked great. Men couldn't take their eyes off me, even as their wife or girlfriend noticed them noticing me. A few women even smiled at me and looked me up and down. I always feel a flutter when I get another woman's attention. This night was giving me the ego-boost I so desperately needed.

I walked to the restaurant where the host, dressed in a full tuxedo, greeted me.

"Good evening, ma'am, welcome to Che Paradise. How many will be dining in your party tonight?"

"I'm afraid it's just me," I smiled and tried to sound unbothered to be eating alone.

"Very good, Miss, please follow me."

The host led me through the dining room, as I tried to exude the confident air of "sexy woman on the prowl" rather than "unattached and recently jilted". I felt eyes on me as I entered, but the initial boost to my ego was starting to give way to my default setting of self-doubt. I worried whether those looking at me saw the attractive dynamo or a lonely woman just kidding herself.

The host showed me to my table and pulled out my chair for me. He handed me the cocktails menu. "Mario will be your server. He will be with you shortly."

"Thank you."

I considered ordering a cocktail, but I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I needed food before I had any more to drink. When Mario came and introduced himself, handing me a dinner menu, I told him I'd stick to water until dinner. I ordered a filet mignon and contented myself to a lovely, romantic dinner with Me, Myself and I.

Soon after, Mario returned with a glass and set it down in front of me.

"This is from the couple over there," he gestured toward a corner of the room, where I saw a familiar pair of stunning faces. Stacy smiled and gave me a slight waive with her fingers. Steven pushed an unoccupied chair out from the table with his foot and gestured for me to join them.

I hesitated for a moment. Did I really want to be the newlyweds' third wheel? Well, it was better than being alone. I picked up my glass. "Mario, I'm going to visit with my friends, could you..."

"I'll bring your meal there, no problem," he said kindly.

"Thank you so much."

I took my pina colada and walked to the table where the blonde bombshell and her Greek God of a husband were sitting and watched me make my approach to them. Suddenly, I felt immensely self-conscious, like when people sing you Happy Birthday and you don't know what to do with your hands.

After what felt like a much longer walk than it actually was, I seated myself at the table.

"Pina Coladas are my favorite," I said.

"You mentioned at the pool you'd had pina coladas this morning, and I thought we owed you for the drinks you bought us," Stacy said.

"You didn't have to but thank you," I said as I sipped my drink. Waiting for dinner was no longer an option, but I'd sip it slow.

"You're very welcome," Steven said. "You look stunning, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," I was a little embarrassed to be complimented like that by Steven in front of his bride, but she didn't seem to mind.

"You really do," she agreed. "That dress is amazing on you."

"Thank you, but you two..." I didn't even know how to finish the sentence. Steven wore all black -- pants, sport coat, dress shirt with its top two buttons undone, showing off a bit of his own cleavage, though his was muscle. Stacy, meanwhile, looked like she'd stepped off the red carpet of a Hollywood premier. She wore a scarlet, off-the-shoulder, floral corset fitted dress with a slit that went up to her hip. "... That may be the most beautiful dress I've ever seen. You're both so lucky to have each other."

Stacy and Steven smiled at one another and Steven took his wife's hand in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. Very sweet.

Stacy's expression softened a little as she looked at me again. "At the pool this morning, I assumed you were with someone..."

"No, I'm here alone. It wasn't the plan, when I booked the trip, but that's the way it is," I tried to sound unperturbed by the situation. I don't think I succeeded.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Steven offered.

"Thank you, but I don't want to ruin your dinner by talking about my problems."

Stacy reached her hands to hold mine. "We wouldn't have offered if we didn't mean it. I know we just met, but you can talk to us... if you want to."

I was touched. I've spent enough time talking to people that I could tell they were genuine and willing to listen. I found myself wanting to open up to them. I opened my mouth, but words failed me. Where to start? I took another sip of the drink they bought me.

"I was supposed to be here with Mark," I began. "I was covering a trial that I expected to go all day. But around lunchtime, the judge recessed for the weekend. I thought I'd surprise Mark by going to his place. He's a real estate agent. He told me he wasn't feeling well and cancelled his appointments. He never cancels appointments, so I figured he must be really sick and I went over to see what I could do for him.

"I went into his house, went upstairs to his bedroom. I heard them before I opened the door but, for some reason, it just didn't register, you know? So, I open the door, and there they are. He has his back to the door. She is bent over the bed and he's fucking her from behind. And I just stood there, frozen for ... 10 seconds? I ... didn't think he was that kind of guy. Even now, as I sit here, if I close my eyes, I can see his ass clench as he thrusts into her. I can hear her moans and the squeaks from the bed, like it's still happening in front of me. Then he smacked her on the ass and that sound, that slap, snapped me out of it -- like he was slapping me across the face.

"Then I said loudly, 'Yeah, slap that ass!' How high he jumped would have been hysterical in any other situation. He pulled out of her and turned around and saw me. I walked to him and punched him square in the face. Then I turned and left. Haven't spoken to him since."

I took another drink from my glass, a longer one.

"You should have kicked him in the dick," Stacy said, making me laugh so that I nearly spit out my drink.

I'd never told anyone what happened. My parents and sister only knew that Mark and I broke up. I didn't go into specifics. Telling them the full story was too humiliating. Somehow, telling Stacy and Steven, people I barely knew, felt liberating. I unburdened myself. I felt my body relax, revealing a secret I didn't even know I was keeping.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," Stacy said quietly, still holding my hand in hers.

"Some men are assholes," Steven said. "Try to not hold it against us good guys."

"I'll remember that if I ever find one, but if my past is any indicator..."

"How long had you been together?" Stacy asked.

"Year and a half. But you know what the worst part is? Is that even when we were together, I knew deep down, he wasn't that great of a catch. He has a decent job but he's not great looking. He wasn't particularly thoughtful or romantic. He wasn't a jerk -- until the end -- but he was just OK. I thought I was the one settling. And it turns out, I couldn't even keep him."

Stacy and Steven sat quietly as I helped myself to another hit from my drink -- so much for sipping until dinner arrived. It was definitely going straight to my head.

"And he wasn't very good in bed and had a tiny fucking dick!"

Stacy and Steven laughed as I finished my anti-Mark screed. I smiled as well. It felt good. The drink was making me light-headed, but confiding in Stacy and Steven lightened my heart.

"Life is too short for small dicks," Stacy declared, releasing my hands and putting her own around the arm of her husband. I had no doubt she wasn't exaggerating. We all shared a laugh at Stacy's not-so-subtle pronouncement. She turned back to me. "I really think it was brave of you, to come here by yourself, knowing there would probably be a lot of couples here."

"I don't know about it being brave," I replied, but I was cut off as Mario arrived with our meals, finally. Our conversation paused as we dug into the first bites of dinner before I picked up the thread right where I left off. "I just figured; I had the time off work, so I could stay home and be lonely and miserable and cold in Detroit. Or I could be lonely and miserable and sunbathe in the Bahamas. Not really a tough choice. But, thanks to you two, I'm not so lonely or miserable."

Steven, who'd ordered a gigantic Porterhouse, which looked delicious, dabbed his mouth with a napkin and set his knife and fork down before looking at me.

"I truly hope you know how lucky you are," he said, pausing for effect before resuming. "I don't know Mark, but I know he's a complete idiot."

"Here, here," Stacy said, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"You are so much better off without a man who doesn't appreciate you, which, clearly, he did not. Do not blame yourself for what he did."

"Thank you," I said.

"I want you both to do me a quick favor," Steven went back to cutting into his steak. "Take a look around this restaurant. Do you notice anything?" He placed a bite of meat into his mouth while Stacy and I glanced around.

"The guy at the bar has a really bad toupee," Stacy observed, and I laughed out loud. As my eyes scanned the area, I couldn't figure out what Steven was getting at. I saw nothing unusual. A lot of couples, a few larger parties. The men in suits and ties, the women in fashionable dresses with their hair and makeup done to the nines. And Stacy was right, the guy at the bar really did have an awful rug.

Steven finally answered his own question. "What I notice, is I am sitting at a table with the two most beautiful women in the place, and my bet is, the whole fucking resort."

Stacy held up her glass. "To beautiful, new friends," she toasted. Steven and I raised our glasses and tapped them to hers.

"I really can't thank you two enough," I said. "I needed this. I didn't know it, but I needed this." My breath caught in my throat. I blinked my eyes quickly, willing myself not to tear up. I felt more loved with these two near strangers than I felt in over a year with Mark.

Stacy quickly threw her arms around me and held me into a long hug. With anyone else, it might have been a little uncomfortable in such a public space. But with Stacy, it felt right and comforting and wonderful. I put my arms around her and held her back. As we broke apart, she held my face in her hands and rested her forehead against mine while we looked into each other's eyes. Her eyes were a stunning cerulean blue. I could have stared into those eyes for the entire night.

"I have been talking about myself all night," I said. "I want to know about you two. How did you meet?"

Stacy and Steven looked at each other and smiled a knowing smile.

"Do you want the official story, or the real story?" Stacy asked.

"I'm a reporter. I want the truth," I smiled, curious to see where this was going.

"Well," Stacy took a sip from her wine. "The official story that we tell most people, including our parents, is that we met in an art class."

"Which is entirely true," Steven chimed in.

"Yes. We did meet in art class," Stacy nodded, but then looked me in the eye and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "But he wasn't a student in the class."

I maintained eye contact with her, but I couldn't put my finger on her meaning. "He wasn't the teacher?"

"No!" Stacy laughed. "He came in one day... as a model."

My hands covered my mouth in shock and my eyes got wide. "You did that!" I gawked at Steven. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his face suddenly flushed.

"It paid well," he said, coolly. "And... I've got nothing to hide."

"Jessie, I'm telling you, we'd had four or five other models before that. The first was a very pretty girl and I thought, 'This is great! I'm going to get to stare at and draw gorgeous people for 10 weeks? Fantastic! 'Then the next week was an ancient old woman, like Estelle Getty on Golden Girls, kind of old.

"Then a middle-aged guy with a beer gut that hung so low you couldn't even see ... you know, which was probably a good thing. The next week was an old man easily in his 60s or 70s. I'm telling you, it was no longer a class I looked forward to."

By this point, I was nearly on the floor laughing at Stacy's story.

"And then, in walks this gorgeous man in a black, silk robe. All the girls in the class, immediately sat up straight, practically drooling for him to drop the robe. And then he did. I'm telling you, four girls immediately dropped their pencils on the floor."

"They did not!" Steven objected.

"Oh yes they did," Stacy looked back to me. "And every girl was holding her legs shut very tightly, hoping they didn't soak through their pants."

"Stop it!" Steven said, though he was enjoying every word.

"As an amateur artist, I always prided myself on my decorum in the studio. It's a very serious, professional environment. It's not sexual at all.

"But this..." she gestured toward her now-husband. "When I saw him, I instantly knew."

"That you would marry him?" I asked.

"Hell no!" she nearly yelled. "I knew I wanted him to fuck me. If we could have, we'd have done it right there and then with everyone watching.

"But, I knew before I could have him, I had to draw him. Normally, I start drawing from the head and face and work my way down. But that day, I started my sketch in the middle." She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

"That is the best How-We-Met story I've ever heard," I said.

"Oh, it's not finished!" Steven announced.

"Yes, it is!" Stacy said quickly

"No, no, no, you're leaving out a very important part of the story."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me." I implored him.

"So, I admit, while I was standing there at the front of the room, I did look around to see who was there. And I saw her. We locked eyes for a moment and then she looked away and by 'away' I mean DOWN. You know, men have a reputation for having eyes in women's breasts all the time, but when she looked at me in that moment, I would have been entirely justified in saying 'My Eyes Are Up Here!'"

Stacy and I howled at Steven's impression of an angry woman.

"But I didn't mind," he continued. "Because I knew she liked what she saw. And the fact is, I liked what I saw too. In fact, I couldn't look at her too much because I didn't want to..."

"Show your level of interest?" I asked.

"That's a good way to put it," he nodded. "So, the hour ends, and I put my robe back on and go back to the changing room, get dressed, collect my $250 and I go to leave. What I don't know is this one," he jutted his thumb to Stacy, "hauled ass outside the classroom, to the restroom to 'change'" he said, making quote marks in the air with his fingers.

"As I'm walking out to my car, I hear someone yell out 'Wait up!' I turn and the blonde from the class is running toward me. She gets to me and says, word-for-word, 'You are so hot, I need to jump your bones.'"

"SHUT UP!" Stacy slapped him in the arm.

"Well, it was something to that effect. But what did happen was, she asked me out. And I liked what I saw so of course I said yes. Then, and this is true, she says; 'I think fair is fair. And since I've already seen you naked...' She unzips her overcoat and she's completely naked underneath."

"Stacy! You bad girl!"

"It was only fair," she said, now she was the one blushing.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," I said, calming down.

"What's that?" Steven asked.

"Why don't you tell that story to your parents?"

Now it was their turn to laugh at what I said. It felt fantastic.

The entire evening was wonderful. I couldn't remember ever having a meal that tasted so good but was so vastly inferior to the pleasure of the company I was keeping.

We continued to talk and laugh throughout dinner and dessert. Even though I declined to order a dessert, Stacy took one bite from her Chocolate Cheesecake and immediately insisted I share with her. My fork had been taken away with my finished dinner plate, so she alternated bites, taking one herself then feeding me. It actually felt quite romantic by the end. With every forkful, our eyes met and we held one another's gaze, each time longer than the last. The final morsel of the cheesecake she split into three tiny pieces, just so she could extend the moment.

Mario returned to gather the empty dessert plates and glasses, I'd just finished my third pina colada and Steven and Stacy were on their second bottle of wine. "Mario, would you do me a favor?" I asked.

"Of course, what would you like?" I stood from my chair and whispered into his ear and, without my companions noticing, slipped my credit card into his hand. He bowed his head slightly. "Right away," he said before turning to leave.

"What was that all about?" Steven asked, puzzled.

I said nothing, just gave Steven a playful wink.

A minute later, Mario returned. "Thank you all for dining with us tonight," he said, placing my credit card, the receipt and a pen onto the table. I left him a sizeable tip and signed.

Steven quickly realized what I'd done and opened his mouth to protest, but I shut him down before he could say a word.

"It's already done. Thank you, Mario." He turned and left one final time. "I cannot thank you two enough for your beautiful company. And... for making me feel beautiful again too."

Steven gave me a smile and Stacy dabbed the corner of her eye with a napkin.

"I don't want to say goodnight yet," she stated. "Jessie, come up to our room and have some wine with us."

I paused for a moment. Maybe I'd already taken up too much of their time. They were generous and I didn't want to abuse their kindness. But I also thoroughly enjoyed being with them. We were staying in the same hotel, so it wasn't as though a couple glasses of wine would keep me from driving home.

"Do you really mean it?" I asked.

"Don't be silly, of course we do." Steven said, standing from the table and helping pull out my chair. "You're coming." He took my hand as I rose. He then went over and pulled Stacy's chair and took his bride's hand as she stood from the table.

We left the restaurant together, my right hand through Steven's left arm and Stacy's left hand, through his right arm. As we strode out, I looked around the room.

"You know, Steven, you were right."

"Of course I was. What was I right about?"

I looked at Steven and Stacy. "We are the two most beautiful women in here," I smiled.

"The whole fucking resort," Stacy corrected.

CHAPTER 3

I kept hold of Steven's arm as we left the restaurant, and I continued holding it to the elevator, up to the seventh floor and to their room. Even though my stomach was full, I was definitely feeling the rum from the pina coladas. I wasn't drunk, but I was certainly buzzed and it felt great. I hadn't let loose and enjoyed myself in a long time. Too long. All the time I was with Mark, I couldn't ever remember ever feeling quite this happy. I was content. I wanted the feeling to last.

We arrived at their room and Steven opened the door. The layout was exactly the same as mine. Large sitting room. Magnificent bathroom on the right. Monstrous bedroom on the left. It wasn't my room, but I felt at home. Especially with these two.

Near the wall of windows was an ice bucket with a bottle of wine chilling. Next to it were two wine goblets. Steven opened the bottle and poured a glass and handed it to Stacy. He filled the second and handed it to me.

"Aren't you going to have any?" I asked.

Steven just held up a finger and walked away to the restroom. He returned a moment later with a drinking glass and poured himself some wine.

"It might look a little Redneck, but it gets the job done," he laughed. "Besides, you two look too stunning not to have the goblets."

"He's not wrong," Stacy said, taking a deep drink from her glass. Stacy took my hand and led me over to the wall of windows. Outside, the sun was setting over the water. The orange ball dipped below the horizon surrounded by swirls of pinks and purples and yellows in the sky.

She and I stood, hand in hand, watching the lovely scene.

"It's a beautiful view," came Steven's voice from behind us. "... and the sunset is nice too."

Stacy and I looked back at him together and smiled, despite ourselves. Yeah, we were definitely feeling good. We then turned to face one another. Stacy set her glass down on a nearby coffee table then placed her arms on my shoulders, her hands clasped on my neck.

Stacy's face was mere inches from mine. I couldn't remember when I'd ever been so close to another woman before. It was a foreign feeling -- but not an unpleasant one.

"Jessie..." Stacy whispered. "I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable: Have you ever been kissed by a woman before?"

In another place and with another woman, I might have politely moved away or said something to dissuade her. But in this place and with Stacy, I remained, in her embrace. I simply answered, "No."

"May I be the first?"

I took a breath. "Yes."

The only thing I can compare my first kiss from a woman is to my first kiss from a boy. His name was Tommy Duncan and we were an "item" for about 15 minutes in ninth-grade. We were at a friend's house one Friday night and found ourselves tucked away in a corner with no one around. There, Tommy planted an awkward, dry, bumbling kiss on my mouth.

Tommy Duncan was no Stacy, that was for sure. She moved her lips to mine slowly, ensuring this was all right. Her lips were delectably soft and moist and felt wonderful against my own. My hands found their way to her hips and I squeezed her while she held on to me. Subtly, her mouth parted slightly and I felt her wet and slippery tongue gently caress my own.

While the quality of the kiss was light years ahead of Tommy's, the two experiences felt the same. They were equally exhilarating. At 14 years old, I had no idea how woefully inept Tommy's kiss had been. I had nothing to compare it to. What I knew was when he kissed me, my heart raced and my breath caught in my chest. A boy was kissing me! It was scary and wonderful and I had no idea what I was doing but I knew I wanted it to continue.

Stacy felt the same way. I didn't know kissing a woman could feel so romantic and sensual and so right. Her lips were larger than mine, but smaller than any man I'd been with, but I discovered they fit perfectly with mine -- like they were puzzle pieces finally coming together.

My friends always teased me for being "short and stacked" standing only 5-foot-3, but with a C- bust. Every man I'd ever been with was much larger than myself. I'd never minded. I liked having a larger body to hold me and envelop me -- even dominate me from time to time.

But Stacy, still a couple inches taller than me, felt so small in my arms, compared to what I'd always experienced. Some men, like Mark, I could barely reach around them. I moved my hands from Stacy's waist and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her deeper to me.

Like that kiss with Tommy, this was scary and delightful, and I had no idea what I was doing but, Goddamn, I wanted to continue doing it.

Stacy and I tenderly broke off from one another. I opened my eyes just in time to see her open hers -- those magnificent cerulean blue eyes.

"Thank you for that," I whispered. It felt odd as I said it -- who says thank you after being kissed? -- but quickly I knew I was thanking her not just for a kiss. I thanked her for giving me an experience I would remember and cherish forever.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I liked it very much."

We remained near the windows, holding one another as we watched the sun disappear under the waves. Stacy slowly disentangled from me and walked to Steven, who remained standing 10 feet behind us. She stood up tall to kiss him on the cheek and then whispered into his ear. He said nothing, but after a tender kiss on the mouth, turned and walked into the restroom.

Stacy returned to me and placed her hands on my hips and drew herself close to me. "I asked Steven to go turn on the hot tub. I'd very much like it if you joined us."

I opened my mouth to answer, but she quickly cut me off.

"Don't you dare use 'I don't have a bathing suit' as an excuse." She read me like a book. And we both knew it.

"You don't mind if your husband sees me?"

"Not at all." She said, her tone dripping with sensuality. She turned her back to me. "Will you unzip me?"

I raised my hands to the top of her dress, which came up to underneath her shoulder blades. I slowly lowered the zipper down and soon I saw the top of her bottom covered by a matching scarlet thong.

Stacy turned back to face me as her dress fell down to the floor. She stood before me wearing nothing but her tiny panty and heels. Her breasts were beautifully tanned as were her nipples, which were standing semi-erect. She moved behind me and reciprocated, helping me with my dress. Stacy's hands helped lower the dress off my body and took my hand as I stepped out of it as it puddled around my feet. I didn't know how I'd feel, standing there nearly naked with another woman. But as she looked at me, wearing nothing but a black panty tied on my hips, she did so with such loving kindness. And there was something else there too. A romantic longing. I felt my heart beating faster in my chest and a warmth pooling in my core.

"Come on," she said as she took my hand and walked with me to the restroom. Steam rose from the bubbling hot tub. Light danced on the wall from a dozen flickering candles placed throughout the room, the last of which Steven was lighting as Stacy and I entered.

I don't believe Steven expected both of us to walk in topless. When he saw us, a look of delight flashed in his eyes while his mouth formed an o in surprise.

"You both are so beautiful." He said. "Can I get either of you anything? Your wine glasses? Would you like music?"

I surprised myself by speaking first. "If you want music, whatever you like is fine. I don't need anything to drink." I squeezed Stacy's hand. "Whatever happens this evening, I want to remember it."

Stacy took my face into her hands but, before she could kiss me, I kissed her. I wanted to taste her again. I wanted to feel her tongue against mine. It felt even better this time. My hesitation and tentativeness were gone. Stacy's physical beauty was matched by a beautiful and generous soul. I was as attracted to her as much as I'd ever been attracted to any man.

We broke from the kiss long enough to slip off our shoes and then climb the three steps to the rim of the hot tub. Stacy stepped into the water first, "Fuck that's hot!" she yelped, but continued to descend into the tub. I followed right behind. It was hot, but it also felt wonderful. All my cares and concerns melted away, including my self-consciousness. I wasn't tan like Stacy, though the sun had certainly pinkened me considerably, my breasts were still milky white, though a size bigger. But in the candles' golden, flickering light, I saw myself the way she saw me: Sexy and Beautiful.

Holding both my hands in hers, Stacy sat herself down and gently pulled me down to straddle her. I held her face in my hands as I returned my mouth to her, alternating between probing with my tongue and playfully nibbling her lips. Her hands, however, remained under the surface of the water, running themselves over my backside; at first on top of, and then, quickly underneath my panty.

Her left hand raised itself from the water and grabbed hold of my hair, giving it a slight pull, forcing my mouth away from hers and raising my chin toward the ceiling. Almost instantly, I felt a new sensation: Stacy's mouth on my breast. I've found most of the men I've been with attack my tits, trying to get as much of it into their mouth as possible. Stacy, by contrast, was patient, even delicate. She planted a few soft kisses to the top of my breast, then slowly moved her tongue round the outside, continuing to wind around to the underside, then back up the inside edge, back to the top where she began. Stacy repeated the circle, though moving slightly toward the nipple as she did so. She did it again, only this time her tongue traveled around my areola. Stacy's long journey circumnavigating my breast, had only one more lap to do and it felt like I was sitting on pins and needles in anticipation. In reality, I was still sitting on her lap, though my arousal had commanded my hips to involuntarily rock themselves into her.

"Ohhhh," I panted.

Mercifully, Stacy's tongue made its final voyage, running itself around and then over and back on my nipple, long since standing erect, before taking it into her warm mouth, drawing in her cheeks and tugging at it with determined suction.

"Oh, Jesus, that feels good," I heard myself say.

My hands held on to the edge of the hot tub, pulling myself further into Stacy, who moved to the other breast and began a repetition of her concentric circles on her way to my nipple.

That's when I remembered Steven. To this point, he'd remained a bystander. Sitting behind Stacy, slightly to our right, less than 10 feet away, on the edge of the clawfoot tub. He loosened his necktie and stood barefoot but, otherwise, remained fully-clothed as he enjoyed the show before him.

Stacy once again reached my eagerly awaiting nipple and played with it in her mouth, my breathing became quicker, my moans of pleasure a little more pronounced all the while I was locked eyes with her husband.

Stacy released her grip on my hair, allowing me to lower my face back to hers for another deep kiss, but I never took my eyes from him. I then moved my lips to Stacy's neck, her cheek, then her ear. After a playful, nip at her ear, I whispered, "Is it Ok if your husband joins us?"

I felt Stacy's breath in my ear as she replied. "You never have to ask," she breathed. "Do anything you want. Whatever feels good."

I gave a small chuckle. "Now that you mention it, there is something I want."

Stacy broke our embrace so she could smile at me. "What is that?"

I spoke directly to Steven. "I want to see what Stacy saw in that art class. Right now." The final statement surprised me. I hadn't intended to bark a command, but that's how it sounded. Steven, without hesitation and without haste, removed his tie and undid the buttons of his shirt. In one fluid motion, the final button came loose, his shirt opened up, away and off his torso.

The veins in his arms were raised, as though he'd just been to the gym. His forearms, biceps and shoulders all bulged with definition. Steven had a thick neck above a pair of massive pectorals which descended into a narrowing staircase of abdominals. He undid his belt, then the button and zipper of his pants, which then dropped to the floor.

Stacy had repositioned herself from the wall of the hot tub, to behind me and together we watched her husband strip. Steven stood before us now in just a pair of snug, black boxer briefs, that only came about a quarter of the way down his thick, tree trunk-like thighs. My eyes moved to his navel, then downward. A narrow trail of hair receded into and disappeared under the waistband of his shorts, which hung low on his hips. I could see the sizable bulge protruding from the front. And while the view was tantalizing, I was past the point of wanting to be tantalized.

Stacy, as she so often had a knack for doing, apparently read my mind and said, "That looks very nice, Sweetheart, but that's not what Jessie wanted."

The corners of Steven's mouth curled slightly. He slid his hands into the top of the waistband and steadily lowered them, bending over to drop them to the floor. He kicked them off and straightened his back, fully revealing himself to me for the first time.

His cock was beautiful. I can't say I'd ever seen a really beautiful cock before. The ones I'd seen were always much more for function than aesthetics. But viewing Steven was like watching 4K television after a life spent watching black and white. The visuals were like nothing I'd ever seen before.

The happy trail from his navel ended at the base of his shaft. Beyond that, he was hairless, which was also new for me to see. His mushroom helmet was thick and round. He was aroused, clearly, but not yet fully erect, though I guessed he'd be nearly eight inches when he was.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Stacy cooed into my ear, while her hands fondled my breasts under the water. It was captivating.

"I understand why you threw yourself at him," I said to her.

"Doesn't it just make you want to taste it?"

"Oh, yes," I breathed.

Stacy wagged a finger at Steven, beckoning him to come to the hot tub. He slowly walked to its stairs, climbed up and stepped into the water. Mine and Stacy's eyes watching him the entire way.

Steven did not sit in the tub however. He sat outside of it. On the edge of it. His feet planted on the seat below him. Stacy stood up in the middle of the tub, motioning for me to follow suit. I stood before her naked husband while Stacy pulled the string on the side of my panty, which was holding it in place on my body. The string untied itself easily. She reached around me and pulled at the other side, and my panty floated on the top of the water. Steven's eyes flicked down, to view all of me. Stacy quickly removed her own panty and for a moment we stood there, enjoying each other visually. Steven's penis began to plump more and rise. I unconsciously licked my lips.

"Go to him," Stacy kindly directed me.

I did as instructed. My right hand trailing alongside me, making small ripples in the water. My left hand made its way to my breast and squeezed it, my thumb raising the nipple. My right hand reached upward and grasped him along the base of his shaft and I held him. I could feel him swell in my touch. My left hand removed itself from my breast and cradled him underneath, gently juggling his sacks between my fingers. My right hand slowly ascended him, still clasping him tightly until it reached that perfectly symmetrical head. It felt marvelous. Hard and soft at the same time. I stroked him downward, matching it with my own movements as I sank from standing to kneeling on the seat of the hut tub, between his knees.

My hand continued to massage him as I looked up into his eyes, silently asking permission to taste him. I felt him flex his cock, inflating that beautiful balloon, a tacit approval for me to commence. My tongue started at the bottom and followed the throbbing dorsal vein as it continued upward. Along the way, I wrapped my lips around him, kissing and worshiping his cock. Once I arrived at the top, I borrowed a page from Stacy and used my tongue to trace circles around the head of his penis. I traced its edges with the tip of my tongue. With one circuit complete, I did another lap, this time using the blade of my tongue, covering as much of him as I could. Finally, I opened wide and took him in. I bobbed myself on him, felt his head touch the back of my throat, then withdrew out while drawing in my cheeks, sucking him and repeated the process.

I moaned on his cock, as pleasuring him pleasured me as well. I always enjoyed the satisfaction that I felt from pleasing a man orally. It is as intimate and erotic as two people can be -- more so than intercourse, which is much more primal -- instinctive, really, as it is necessary for the survival of the species. But taking someone orally serves no purpose aside from giving and receiving pleasure. In this moment, I had no objective other than overwhelming Steven's senses and, in so doing, serving my own.

Stacy once again ran her hand through my hair, this time helpfully pulling it out of my face, giving Steven an unobstructed look at his own cock disappearing into my gullet and reappearing a moment later.

"Ohhhhh," I gasped, as I suddenly felt Stacy's other hand slide itself along my slit from behind me and rub my vulva. This was a sensation I've never felt before. A man in my mouth and the small, nimble, underwater fingers of a woman rubbing me. The dual sensations, playing the role of both giver and receiver, were intoxicating. We remained that way for a minute, Stacy's fingers exploring me while I serviced her husband. Then Stacy gave a gentle tug of my hair, pulling my mouth from Steven.

"I think we should move this party to the bedroom," she announced and took my hand to stand me up from my knees. We walked hand in hand as we stepped out of the tub. We walked through the living room, where we stopped for a moment to kiss in front of the glass wall. It was dark outside and though I knew no one could see in through the window, it was still a thrill to be fully naked in her arms, tongues and hands exploring one another's body in front of the window. Maybe we could be seen after all? The idea flooded me with arousal.

Steven gently prodded us to move along to the bedroom where the extra-large king-sized bed awaited.

Stacy hopped onto the bed first, crawling to the center. She laid bare before me, languid, arms outstretched, without a care in the world. She was a golden goddess. I knew what I wanted.

I joined her on the bed, and positioned myself on my stomach, between her legs. A smile beamed on her face. I ran my hands along her tan legs, a scent of perfume, mixed with suntan lotion, and her musky arousal filled my nose as I kissed and licked the inside of her thighs. I looked into her eyes.

"I've never done this before, I might not be any good," I confessed.

"Just do whatever you'd like done to you."

I took her advice. I started slowly, focusing on her inner thighs first, tenderly kissing and teasing the ticklish space between thigh and genitals. I started on the right then moved to the left, grazing her sex with the heat of my breath as I did so, prompting a giggle of ticklish laughter from above. I continued that way, moving back and forth, with the faintest tease of her in between.

"Maybe I should taste you now?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, yes, please," she panted.

The time for teasing was through. I started low and dragged my tongue as slowly as I could over the folds of her labia until I reached her clit, standing tall and erect, eager for my mouth. I didn't know what to expect her to taste like, but it wasn't this. I've swallowed cum and while tolerable, I won't say it's delicious. This lacked any bitterness. A gentle saltiness was left on my tongue along with just a hint of sweetness.

I took another long lick, reversing my way back down, from the clit, over the lips of her pussy, where I remained a moment, licking the folds covering her opening. My tongue climbed itself back to the clit, which I took into my mouth, rolling and flicking my tongue over it before sucking on it.

"Oh, yes, Jessie," Stacy breathed. I continued my oral ministrations on her lovely clitoris as I gently entered her with my right middle finger, exploring her depths. Stacy groaned again, this time it was muffled. I looked above me to find that Steven had joined us and was kneeling at the head of the bed, his rigid tool moving in and out of Stacy's welcoming mouth.

I soon developed an appreciation for the men who'd performed this service for me in the past. It felt amazing to have my face buried in a woman, but it wasn't the easiest task, either. However, I soon developed a rhythm between my mouth and tongue and my fingers, I had entered a second digit into her as well. They played in concert together, a symphony of pleasure for Stacy's benefit -- and a bit of my own, as I could feel my own wetness pooling within me.

Stacy removed Steven from her mouth and was moving her fist over him while also pressing my head harder into her. "Fuck, Jessie, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop..." I knew that pleading tone. I'd made it myself. Nothing is more frustrating for a woman than when a man hears that and changes what he's doing. How hard can that be? Not to stop? It turns out, it's harder than I thought. I had no intention of actually stopping. But I could feel myself wanting to redouble my efforts. I wanted to push Stacy over the threshold at which she was standing. But I knew that wouldn't help. She didn't need to be pushed off, she'd happily jump into the blissful abyss, but I had to lead her there and so I remained exactly as I was, happily plunging my fingers into her depths and swirling them around her inner walls, while my lips and tongue worked themselves over and around her clit, now swimming in a pool of her arousal and my saliva.

"Yes, yes, yes... Yeeeeeeeeesssssssss," Stacy's hips bucked themselves with such force that my lower lip was momentarily pinched between her pubis and my mouth, prompting a muffed "mmmph" from me, which Stacy took as me enjoying myself -- which wasn't wrong, either.

I continued to hold her in my mouth even as my fingers slowed themselves inside her, I knew she was on the downswing, but didn't want to end her pleasure even a nanosecond before she was ready to be finished.

Soon she let out a long, satisfied, throaty chuckle and I felt her hands lift my face from her soaking wet pussy and she planted another long, passionate open-mouthed kiss. I knew she could taste herself on my tongue and lips. We broke apart, both gasping for air before breaking out into another fit of laughter.

"'I probably won't be very good at this' she says" Stacy mocked me. "Oh my god, that was incredible."

I felt a joyous pride in making Stacy orgasm. Making a man cum can feel good, but let's not kid ourselves, it's not exactly hard to do. Women are much more complicated and to make another woman feel that way filled me with a self-confidence I was only just realizing I sorely needed after the Mark fiasco.

"What would you like now?" Stacy asked me, her fingers lightly brushing my nipples, sending a shiver through me. I shifted my eyes over to Steven, who was now sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed, his meaty erection resting on his abdomen, pointing skyward.

"Would you like to make love to Steven?" Stacy cooed.

"No," I said, defiantly. "I want to fuck him."

Without waiting a moment longer, I scooted myself over to him. He positioned himself laying flat and motioned for Stacy to join us. I straddled his groin while his wife positioned herself over his face to have her pussy eaten again.

I gripped the base of Steven's dick and held it to the curtains of my labia. I held myself over him for a moment, feeling the beautiful head knock at my door.

With a soft squish, he penetrated me as I plunged myself down upon him. Descending the shaft of his immense cock was a sensation I'd never experienced. All the men I'd been with were your typical 5-to-6-inchers -- on a good day. Steven's additional length -- and girth -- filled me in a way I'd never been before. I impaled myself on him. Like a drowning swimmer, I couldn't reach the bottom, I just kept sinking on him and somehow my tunnel expanded itself to envelop him within me. Finally, I touched down on his pelvis. He was entirely inside me, I felt him pressing against my cervix.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" I shouted, probably louder than I realized. I looked at Stacy, my eyes wide with wonder and amazement. "Oh fuck, how do you do this? He's so fucking big."

Stacy bit her lip for a moment, Steven's attentions were clearly working on her as well. "Just hold still for a moment..." she paused to pant, catching her breath. "Then just grind. Stir yourself around his cock.... Oh, fuck..."

I did as she suggested. After taking a moment to adjust to his size, I started to move myself on him. I bucked my hips back and forth, feeling that wonderous pole shift itself around inside me, reaching places never touched before. I didn't know I had so much space inside me. The sensations threatened to overwhelm me, but there was more to come.

"Fuck that feels incredible... Fuck."

While I ground myself on Steven's cock, Stacy did the same on his face, her panting increasing in pace with mine. We leaned forward and our desperate mouths found each other. I grabbed her hands and forcibly placed them on my tits. She obliged me by squeezing them hard, then licked and sucked my nipples. The dual sensations of Steven's erection inside me and Stacy's wet mouth on my breasts set my nerve-endings on fire.

Stacy, with some consternation, removed herself from Steven's face and maneuvered behind me, straddling Steven's legs. She continued to manipulate my tits with her left hand, while her right slid itself around me and began to rub my clit. No longer having to multitask between both women, Steven increased his efforts inside me. He thrust himself in and out of me, hammering me like a piston inside an engine.

I felt like I was riding a rocket after a life spent puttering around on a golf cart. Steven was fucking me like he was made for no other purpose while Stacy ensured that I achieved the very highest levels of pleasure I'd ever known.

I surrendered myself to both of them. I leaned backward into Stacy, letting her support me while her hand was a blur of activity over my clit. I turned my face to hers, our lips and tongues danced while Steven continued to jackhammer my pussy. My eyes bore into Stacy's as I knew what was about to happen. I let my body completely relax and I showered myself in the flood of endorphins that ravaged through my body.

"Oooohhhhhhhh Fuuuuuuck...!" I have no idea how loud I was. I went deaf to my own shrieks. I was blind to Stacy's beautiful smiling face, mere inches from my own. Every sense I possessed went on hiatus as my orgasm ripped me apart. In that moment, every lackluster encounter, all the unsatisfying fucks with Mark and the men that came before evaporated from my memory. Those experiences were a demon being exorcised and they left me forever. Before I could comprehend it, without any preconceived notion that it might happen, spurts of clear, watery liquid shot out of me, like a geyser. Three, four, five streams spewed forth as my body convulsed. I reached the apex of my shattering orgasm and slowly floated down to Earth. Only then did I begin to realize, the combined pressure of Steven's cock inside me and Stacy's marvelous fingers outside caused me to squirt for the first time in my life.

Slowly my senses were returning to their regular duties. I felt Steven's thrusts continue to intensify and heard his voice in my ears, muffled at first, but as the sounds became clearer, I understood he was calling his wife. "Stace... Stace... oh fuck, I'm coming..."

Suddenly I was empty. Steven quickly withdrew his cock and Stacy rushed in to catch his seed by wrapping her mouth around him as he shot his creamy, white load into her. I repositioned myself to lie on the bed, still coming to grips with the most intense sensations I'd ever known, when Stacy returned to me. She pressed her mouth and tongue to mine once more. I gripped her blonde hair and pressed her face onto mine, probed my tongue into her mouth, desperate for as much of Steven's cum as I could taste. After what he'd given me, I wanted to experience this as well. Stacy and I passionately kissed for another minute, his jizz dribbling down our chins and onto our breasts. I lowered my mouth to her chest and licked off the drips that had escaped us. She did the same for my tits.

Steven was still breathing hard as he lay prone on the bed. His cock started to deflate. I leaned over and took him into my mouth one final time, tasting the final remains that lingered on his superb instrument.

Finally, Stacy and I lay down alongside him, his arms around both of us, and our heads on his chest. Our fingers interlaced over his abdomen while our bodies, calming down from the remarkable high we shared, began to feel the fatigue of such an incredible experience.

I finally broke the silence.

"Thank you. Both of you. For sharing yourselves with me. That was amazing."

Steven and Stacy shared a long, slow, tender kiss.

"You mean this IS amazing," Stacy corrected me. "This is only intermission."

EPILOGUE

Dawn was breaking when my phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the bed. Its vibration stirred me. A reporter is never really off duty when news breaks, so my body is trained to wake up when I get a message -- even on vacation.

I reached over to grab the phone. My movement roused Steven and Stacy from their sleep as well. Stacy grunted in protest and rolled over to her other side. We'd only slept a few hours. Stacy was right. My first orgasm was only the beginning. I lost count after four. I never squirted again, though not for lack of trying. Neither Steven nor Stacy had ever seen it before and it was quite the topic of conversation in between our interludes. We enjoyed each other in about every way imaginable, Stacy even massaged Steven's prostate while I sucked his cock.

The memories of that night and early morning hours were still thick in my brain as I attempted to focus my eyes on the notification on my phone. The display said "Mark" and I groaned.

"Everything Ok?" Steven asked, sleep dripping in his voice.

"Fucking Mark just texted me."

"Tell that fucker off," Stacy said groggily.

I entered the passcode on my phone and opened the message and read it aloud.

Hi. Been thinking about you lots. Thinking about us. Thinking we could be in the Bahamas right now.

I laughed at the pitiful message. "I'm going to tell him to go to hell."

I began to type my reply when Steven snatched the phone from me.

"I have a better idea."

* * * * * * * *

Mark wasn't exactly sure what made him send the message. He hadn't really considered reaching out to Jessie. Truthfully, he hadn't thought all that much about how it ended. He knew he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar... so to speak.

But when he woke up that morning and looked at his phone, he saw the date and remembered the trip they'd planned to take together. The Bahamas would have been a major upgrade over the perpetually gray of a Detroit winter. And who knows, maybe he could talk her into a spur of the moment vacation where they could reconcile. It was worth a shot.

So, he texted Jessie, and waited for the reply, thinking about how he might get back into her good graces.

He saw the telltale three dots, telling him she was in the process of replying. An immediate response. That couldn't be a bad thing. He watched as the three dots continued to dance on his screen.

Funny, I've been thinking about you a lot lately too...

A smirk spread across Mark's face.

I decided to go to the Bahamas anyway....

Mark was a little surprised Jessie went on the trip without him. But that might be even better. He wouldn't have to convince her to go. He could hop on a plane and surprise her. They could be together tonight.

Mark started to type a reply of his own, but the dots continued to flash. He decided to see what else she said.

And I'm having a wonderful time...

He got up and went to his bedroom to start packing a bag.

Mark's phone chimed again. Jessie sent him an image. He opened the screen. Several moments passed before he understood what he was seeing.

It was a photo of three people in bed. Nude. On the right was a stunning blonde Mark did not know. She lay on her side, her leg was bent at the knee, hiding what must have been a beautiful pussy, which rested on the thigh of the man next to her. Her breast teasingly covered by her arm.

In the middle was a man, also a mystery to Mark. He had a granite jaw and an upper body that, Mark knew, in a hundred years, with all the fitness equipment in the world, he would never come close to possessing.

And on the left side of the photo, was Jessie. She mirrored the pose of the blonde; laying on her side, leg held just so to block his eyes from seeing what he now realized just how much he missed. Her arm also placed provocatively so, obscuring some, but certainly not all, of her ample bosom.

Jessie smiled in a way Mark did not recognize. He'd never seen a look like that before. And that's when it hit him. She was happy. The photo showed her wide smile, and her eyes gleaming, like it was taken while she was laughing. She was joyously, over-the-moon, deliriously happy.

Mark tried not to look at the bottom of the photo, but it was impossible to miss. The women's arms were covering their breasts because they were reaching for the man's large, throbbing erection. A truly impressive specimen. The man smiled widely. And why not? Jessie and the mystery blonde each had a hand wrapped around his cock.

The image was followed by the final text message Mark ever received from Jessie.

I'm not thinking about you anymore.

The End