Milestone-The Next Day

Milestone- The next day.

Whether it was the wine, the stress of travel, the extracurricular activities, or all of them together I must have blanked out completely.

Woke up in the early pre-dawn hours my head spinning in confusion as if trying to come out of trance. Did I over do it last night? Did I over imbibe? Was it all just a drunken dream?

My eyes attempted to adjust to the dark of the room; a slight stream of filtered light poked a tentacle in the dark gray, almost charcoal medium of air. Just enough light to make out the form of my son lying next to me…and as my eyes focused…the NAKED form of my son!

I sat up quickly, my hands making feverish exploratory motions over my own body. Shit! I am naked…my fingers touch my lips…did I really? I mean really…did these lips do…what to my son? My son’s…PENIS! A shudder ran through my entire body.

Needed to get out of there…to put some distance between. Needed a walk to make any sense of my actions. So threw on shorts, top, and sandals and walked as far as I dared. Way out on a skinny spit of land that jutted far out from the island and plunked down on a rock.

With my head in my hands, went over mentally the entirety of the previous day, trying to rationalize any and all of my actions. Kept coming to the pinnacle of the day…it was not Mark’s fault. I am the adult, the parent…damn it…my own kid!

The overall generalizations soon materialized into specifics, then details. The vision of my son with that lady next door came back to me in panoramic color…her apparent bliss. His…His voracity…his cock! Oh my God! His cock…my God…that cock, that wonderful cock. My fingers unconsciously traced my lips.

What the hell is wrong with me? Am I nuts? For Christ sake…I am a fucking CREEP!

Then the sun broke over the horizon and as the rays raced towards me across the calm surface of the Caribbean they scared the darkness from my soul, the lectors of self-loathing ejected from me in fits and shudders.

Today is my birthday…my fortieth birthday, crossing a threshold to where I cannot come back from. The purpose of this whole trip…it was about me, about my self-indulgence, of not allowing me to restrain from any personal or societal mores. So be it, check one item off, I am better at oral sex than I ever thought…and I am more desirable to the opposite sex than I ever intended as the picture of the two guys on the beach yesterday crystallized in my brain.

The picture of Mark’s eyes turning to lust as he manipulated my tits last night in the whirlpool…the response of his cock even though it had already been through a vigorous work out during the day. Yes…I still had it; I have what it takes to entice, to excite, to prompt into action…a physical specimen of the opposite sex even less than half my age.

I got up with confidence, striding strongly back in the direction of the resort. My mind made up. I needed a good fucking, and my target was Mark’s cock, son or no son.

The sun was up and radiating its heat as I opened the door to our cabin, the brilliance chasing any shadow from the interior. My vagina was weeping in anticipation, I was intending to devour that man cock that just so happened to be attached to my son. My over inflated expectation was deflated like a popping balloon. The room was empty.

Ah shit! Forgot that Mark was going on a sight seeing trip…with…what’s her name…Crystal.

Great! All warmed up and nowhere to go. Took a long shower to relieve the tension.

There was a knocking by the patio door, tossed a towel around me knowing that it barely covered me. Consciously thinking or hopping some hot young guy would be an unwitting participant to my sexual needs.

It was George…from next door. Unabashedly standing there in his birthday suit.

I had a momentary thought that he just might be the winner of my current needs. George was probably in his late forties, but in excellent shape, his completely, and I mean completely tanned body still had muscular definition. His shorn pubic area exacerbated the size of his dangling penis. Not in the realm of Mark’s in any way, but still better than my husband’s.

But, after exchanging niceties, George was on a different mission. He wanted to invite me to the festivities next door.

Well if it worked for Mark, maybe it would work for me.

Dropped the towel and followed George. Caught the approving twinkle in his eye, I was unashamed.

George gave me a quick tour and the primary observation on my part was that there seemed to be ten females for every seven males. And…from my point of view, the competition would be tough. Still everyone was pleasant when introduced, even formally introduced to Mary Anne. She was the one that extracted the most out of my son yesterday.

The other item that caught my eye was that everyone wore a colored rubber wristband.

The colors were red, yellow, and green…like traffic lights.

George explained that the resort was clothing optional through out most of the facility but did have a clothing requirement for the attached five star public restaurant and club. Then explained that they had a guest membership available to those staying next door at a reduced rate.

Ok, it was a sales pitch, but even though the female to male ratio was not to my advantage…I knew before making the trip that this was the intended venue. Just did not have the guts to spring it to hubby.

The other caveat was Mark. Apparently by George inviting him over yesterday was ok, but to use the facilities he needed a female sponsor. Mary Anne sponsored him yesterday (in more ways than one), but he would need a different sponsor everyday. Unless he was assigned with a “guest”, if I signed up, I could put him on my membership.

George introduced me to Denise; she would be the one to sign me up.

Yep, this is the Denise of Mark from yesterday. She was all of seven months pregnant, but gorgeous just the same. Denise is extremely personable and easy to talk to. George gave her a kiss on the lips and walked away.

Denise caught my wonderment and explained, “Pops, I mean George, is my husband” she rubbed her pregnant belly “ and Dad”.

Ok then…nothing wrong with a May/October relationship, happens all the time, but was there more to the story?

“So it is the first time for both of you?” Not really prying, but curious, as George had to have children at least as old as Denise.

“Yea, for me, but not for Pops”, she said with a stretching smile as if she was setting me up for a punch line, “he is not only my husband…but also my father”.

If I had not been sitting, I would have been on the floor.

Seeing my surprise…Denise went on to give me her life story.

George and Denise’s mother had been married sixteen or so years before she ran off with George’s business partner. There had been a year or two of Denise going back and forth until her mother’s boyfriend started taking liberties with her. Denise’s mom did not want the competition around so Denise moved in permanently with her Dad.

She was always close to her Dad and felt she could confide her most intimate thoughts with him. One was that she preferred older guys to the ones her own age. He told her that he preferred younger women.
So somehow they ended up in a competition, and also helped each other that eventually turned into what might be construed as inappropriate.

Denise was apparently proud that she won the competition when she bagged a fifty-year-old customer of her Dad. Denise was seventeen at the time. The best her Dad could do was nailing Denise’s best friend at the time…that had just turned eighteen.

That is when Denise started to get jealous though. Denise’s friend would brag about George and what Denise was missing. Denise started to have fantasies about her Dad, but did not act on them. For four years, Denise held back…then an unplanned event at a planned event changed all that.

Denise was in her last year of college when invited to a frat party. It just so happened that George was in town that weekend too. Denise invited her Dad to the party, not knowing that the party was going to be the turning point in their lives.

As at all frat parties, alcohol and probably drugs ran rampant, but this party turned into a devious game of dare and consequences. It was a guess who, game, being blindfolded and drunk. Denise thinks that she and her dad might have been targeted for debauchery, as she was the first blindfolded and taken out of the room. The deal was, they would blindfold some of the girls and put them in a separate room. Then blindfold some of the boys and put them in a different room.

They would call out one of each and without taking off the blindfolds, would have to grope each other and whisper to the judges who they thought it might be. If they guessed wrong, the two would go to another room and still without taking off the blindfolds, strip naked and do what ever it takes to find out who the other was. Without talking.

She never thought that they would pair her and her father up. They did. And to top it off, the doing whatever ended up with her and her father not only having intercourse once, but multiple times. It was the best sex she ever had.

When they pulled off their blindfolds, the entire frat party was standing around them.

It was an “oh my God” moment…more embarrassing to her Dad it seemed at the time.

Her Dad made a split second exit without much more than a quick sorry.

Thankfully there was only a month left for school and she was able to ignore the ridicule of her peers.

When she got home from school a month later, her Dad was very apologetic and felt guilty to the point of despair. It was Denise that over came his negativity towards the event by aggressively telling her Dad that he was the best lover she ever had and since the ice was broken, she wanted to do it for real.

That was two years ago. Her and George’s one more time is going on indefinitely and almost eight months ago, after a little planning on her part, she was pregnant. And her Father being the gentleman he is took her to a different country and married her.

They not only are Father and Daughter, but husband and wife…and they have a completely open marriage, as George wants her not to ever feel deprived.

This explained her and Mark yesterday.

The whole story was not only intriguing, but of interest as to maybe my sexual interest in Mark was not totally weird.

Denise explained the different color bands. The green is for go, the red for stop, and the yellow for special conditions.

Filling out the forms there were very personal questions, from not only age and such, but menstrual cycles, birth control, and any possible venereal diseases.

The green band would indicate that you do not have to worry about getting pregnant or transmitting any diseases.

The red, there would be a need to have protection, whether to protect against unintended consequences like pregnancy or VD.

The yellow band would be used to indicate some other factor, such as; Denise padded her belly, being pregnant or other possible medical condition.

The club recommended that any female during their menstrual to not participate until it is over due to health concerns.

Since my period just ended two days before the trip…and I am not on any birth control (an oversight on my part, since hubby is fixed, yet I knew full well if the opportunity presented itself…I was not going to be denied). Denise handed me a red band.

Last night I remember Mark having a red wristband too.

So here I was, walking around in a completely natural state, wearing nothing but a red band on one wrist.

Got dragged into a volley ball game on the beach…absolutely a blast, tits bouncing up and down, along with cocks swinging everywhere.

Have to say, thought that I might hook one or two of the guys, but they were unfortunately committed or were endowed with red bands.

Mary Anne caught my frustration and motioned me to sit under an umbrella.
She assured me that with my looks, patience would be a virtue and with a little time every swinging dick in the place could be mine.

“Even Mark’s, if you have not had that one already” She said with a wink.

My reaction was more of a faux surprise…Mary Anne was not fooled.

With a laugh, “Oh don’t be so stuck up…it was quite obvious since you and he arrived what your intentions are. Quite often we see mothers come here and teach their children the facts of life. Especially those that rent that specific cabin, right next to our gate, as if this is all serendipity and not planned.”

I was flabbergasted, “No…no, it was all just circumstances”.

“Yea, right” Mary Anne laughed, “Tell me that once you have had that log in you a few times”.

As much as I wanted to tell myself that I did not want to hear it, I really did. So when Mary Anne started to tell her story, I was looking forward to when she got to Mark.

Mary Anne is forty-five, a High School teacher of twenty years, with a penchant for young men. The younger the better, but some experience counts too. Said that during her career she has been lucky more than once not to get caught, but now does not pursue any young men within her daily scope. She laughingly said that she raids other school districts.

She explained that her husband is bi and really travels in his own circles. That Crystal is her only child…well not a child anymore since last year when they were here. Back home, Crystal is just finishing up her freshman year in High School, but she hoped that by the time she left here Crystal would have a master’s degree in the art of sex.

My brain raced to Mark…he was with her…

Mary Anne caught the consternation on my brow and patted my arm, “don’t worry, would not think she will do anything until her period is over…maybe in a couple days”.

Then as if speaking to herself, “I want another chance at that too”. She squeezed my arm lightly.

Caught in the moment, Mary Anne lamented that she could almost feel my son’s cock stretch her vagina, probing her depths.

I should have protested, instead I leaned closer listening for each small detail. Not even realizing that the attendant was almost continually filling my drink.

Without being to obvious, I now closely checked Mary Anne out…her tits defied gravity as if they were vinyl coated cones filled with silicon saline water bags, her relatively small areolas centering what looked like permanently raised nipples. Here stomach was flat, especially for her age, but the skin belied her time on this earth by giving up stretch marks here and there. She was a little wide at the hips, but aren’t we all by the time we are in the midst of middle age. Her pubic patch was barely a v shaped bristle not enough to cover her folded vaginal lips…the place that my son had so skillfully separated.

Mary caught me, and with out a premonition of impropriety, “Here be my guest, the curiosity must be killing you. Mark must have told you…these are new.”

She placed my hand on her tit.

It was firm, yet was still squeezable. Their globe shape still pliable, yet recovered from each squeeze with amazing memory. My thoughts went from being almost clinical to curious, and then I brushed her nipple. It responded immediately…the nipple hardened, pointing out, as the very tip formed almost like a mushroom.

“Hey…are you ready to go there?” her tone inquisitive.

My hand still exploring, “go where?”

“Are we having thoughts of entertaining us two?” Mary moved her finger back and forth between us.

I quickly pulled my hand back realizing that maybe I was relaying the wrong impression…or was I? Did I have latent lesbian desires? I would have to come back to that thought.

“Uh…no…Christ, I never thought about that before”. I stammered.

She laughed heartily, “It is ok…happened to me that way too.”

“You mean…you?”

“Yea, every once in awhile, I will get caught up in the moment…even did it with Crystal once”.

“You’re kidding…right?”

“Nope…honest to God…my daughter has no inhibitions when it comes to sex and I admire her for that.”

“How old did you say she is?” I might have heard earlier, but maybe she is older than I pictured.

“Didn’t…she is legal here, was last year too”.

OMG, I thought. Then I remember what I was told about the laws here.

Let a possible scenario play through my head, the curiosity of sexual interaction with another female tripped a slight sensation. What would another woman’s pussy taste like? I know that to have it done to me is frosting on the cake during sex, but most of the time my husband is a little lax as to my needs. My ex-lover used to send me way over the top with his oral articulations…

By now I had just finished my fourth mai tai and the effects were making me slightly drowsy, had to excuse myself.

Mary Anne invited me to dinner later and told her that would be fine, just needed to take a nap and get cleaned up.

Half an hour later I was lying in bed working myself up to a lather thinking about going down on another woman…those mai tai’s were like aphrodisiacs.

A few hours later I woke up, still horny as hell, took a shower and began to plan an attack on my kid when he got back. I was intent on having him fuck his mother’s brains out.

Then the phone rang. It was Mark…he was spending the night at the caves with a bunch of people, would be back in the morning.

Damn! Frustration was not a strong enough word. I needed a fuck.

Tossed on a short, very thin cotton dress with a top that wrapped to form my cleavage. Did not bother with underwear and opened the top enough that if I leaned one way or the other…my tit would fall out. No doubt I was on the hunt. Did not care if they were sixteen or sixty…some guy was going down tonight!

Met Mary Anne in the bar…she too was dressed to kill and apparently had the same frustration. She actually thought that she was going to get Mark tonight…go figure!

Guess that was some consolation to me, if I was not getting it, neither was she.

But as horny as we both were…if unlucky in either of our plans, my curiosity of the going the other way just might become a reality tonight.

Checking out the place, the only loose male in the joint was the bartender, and Mary Anne was all over him. Not that I wouldn’t, but he would be a non-starter as he was working. He is a good-looking native kid, maybe in his early twenties at the most.

Then, at a corner table, I saw one of the guys from the beach yesterday. I remembered the tent in his swim shorts when he saw me purposely be a voyeur at the beach…just maybe. Then, what I assumed was his wife, sat down.

Shit!

But he did see me…I could see a glint in his eye, and a small acknowledging smile.

I turned slightly, knowing that one of my tits would be almost fully exposed to him and gave him a bigger smile with the best come hither look I could. His smile broadened.

I jerked my head in the direction of the bathrooms, got up and started to walk. There was a mirror on the wall in front of me and I could see the woman at the table spin around looking towards the bar where I had just been. She missed me completely.

The woman’s bathroom was half way down a hallway that turned away from the dining room then made a right angle towards the men’s bathroom. The angle afforded a little privacy by blocking the view from one bathroom to the other.

Good thing too!

As I walked out of the woman’s, the man came out the men’s. I walked right up to him, placed his hand on the small of my back and laid my lips right on his.

If he was shocked at my aggression, he did not show it. He tried to pull away from my mouth, but before he could say anything I placed my finger on his lips.

My other hand dove to the belt on his pants.

I felt his hand slide under my dress, softly caressing my outer thigh, then my ass, and finally up under the dress to my tit.

With dexterity I did not know that I possessed, his belt opened, the clasp released, the zipper down, and I had his hard cock in my hand.

Not necessarily a big cock, possibly larger than my husbands, but not by much…I did not care…I needed that meat in me, and right now.

I lifted my leg along side his, he pulled my thigh up. I guided his cock under my thigh and put the head against my totally wet pussy.

One shove and he was in…buried to his nuts. Slamming me against the wall.

I wanted it, all of it…as he thrust; I drove down, each time. We were fucking so hard and I escalated so quickly I had to bury my mouth against the side of his neck. Without realizing the extent of my force to subdue my vocal response to my impending orgasm, I could taste his blood in my mouth.

Then I came…I came hard…so did he, shooting streams of his jism deep into me. The hot ropes filling each void as my pussy slobbered forth a torrent of its own juices. The combined volume finding its way passed his embedded cock as I felt a rivulet roll down my leg.

We separated, the look of angst in his face, he wanted to say something but I shook my head negatively and pointed towards his wife. A sheepish look transformed his face. I assumed that he would have a hard time explaining how he got that bite and hickey mark on his neck in the five to ten minutes it took for us to fuck.

He pulled up his pants and turned away. Then hesitated and looked back, I mouthed no and pointed. He walked away.

Straightening my dress, the sense of accomplishment waved over me. I had never done anything so daring…fucked a guy, I did not know, and as if he was just a tool to be used and sent away…all in minutes.

Mary Anne knew immediately that I had accomplished something; my smile must have been infectious.

Picking up my martini, she toasted me, her nostrils flared, and then “Ah toast to the fresh smell of semen…congrats”.

I beamed, even as I felt my cunt give up a glob of cum, splattering on the floor between my legs. “Ah yes…to all those little tadpoles lying at my feet! Happy birthday to me!” then I downed the glass.

Had another drink and contemplated possibly, just maybe asking Mary Anne to help with my curiosity. But, she was without a doubt intent on getting that bartender.

As the bar closed she managed to finally get an answer from that young black native…my curiosity would have to wait.

Finished the day with another first…guess that would have to suffice.

Woke up hours later with my hand feverishly working to replicate the passion of my dream of my spontaneity earlier with the guy with no name. A sudden reality hit me as my fingers manipulated my pussy into froth…my own liquids mixing with the juices of that stranger.

Holy shit! The red band…what are the chances…I am not on any birth control!

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, as the initiative to climax was stronger than the worry.

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