This is the second part of Hedonism II. Read the part 1 first.

This is a copyrighted work with all rights reserved.

Please send questions/comments to twylamarie @ ymail.com

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It was the day after the big `naughty nightie" party at the
hedonism resort.  I was horribly hung-over and my husband, who
was not at all used to drinking large amounts, was in worse shape
than I'd ever seen him before or since.  We had spent the evening
drinking free rotgut tequila and now we were suffering.

Though we were on vacation and it would mean essentially sleeping
through a day, I made the decision to bring out the heavy
artillery in the fight against our headaches.  Painkillers
squirreled away from the time I had my teeth reconstructed -
strong ones - were the rations of the day.

I gave John (my husband) two. John is a big man, but that would
be enough to knock him out for at least six hours.  I made him
take vitamins and water and take a long shower to loosen up his
neck muscles, then drugged him simple as that.  He didn't know
what I gave him and didn't care.  He was out like a light soon
after.

For myself, I took two and felt life go a bit sidewise.  Drugs
were a long-time friend for me and I had been eating these pills
like candy for weeks after my dental work, so my tolerance was
higher.  Within a half hour my headache was down to a low roar,
and along with some pepto I'd chugged I was feeling like I would
likely survive.

So I was essentially alone for the afternoon maybe 30 feet from a
nude beach, 50 yards from a free bar, and surrounded by naked and
horny singles and couples, many of whom had a supply of pot,
cocaine and other drugs I sincerely loved but had done my best to
stay away from since getting married a few years early.

What could possibly go wrong?


Our small room had no tv if I remember.  (This was long ago.) I
wasn't much on tv anyway, so I decided to walk over to the
restaurant to get something to eat.  I put on a bathing suit with
a golf skirt and sleeveless blouse and wore a visor and
sunglasses, giving me the look that I was preparing for 18 holes
or a good set on the tennis courts. (In truth, though, any heavy
physical activity would have had me heaving my guts at that point
I'm sure.)  I left my room hating the bright sun that greeted me
as I exited our room.

The couple that John and I had been spending time with had left
the resort that morning, so I didn't expect to see anyone I knew
as I collected some food to cut through the poisons in my
stomach, but there was young Karen sitting alone in the sun.

The last time I had seen Karen, she was maneuvering her very
petite frame onto a very large cock in a hotel bedroom while the
cock owner's wife and I looked on.  It was a pretty surreal
experience and made me embarrassed to see her by the light of the
day, but she had no such bashfulness and floated over and asked
me how I had survived the evening.

We shared our hangover stories, she invited me to eat with her,
and lacking anything better to do or a way to gracefully bow out,
I sat down at her table.   Young Karen went and got me a beer -
which was exactly the hair of the dog I needed - and we both
gratefully nourished ourselves with some shitty cafeteria food
and ice cold Red Stripe.

Karen shared with me that her sorority sisters were quite upset
with her as she had been out all night without letting anyone
know she would be.  They had all gone out to the snorkeling
cruise but she didn't feel that spending time on a boat was quite
what her body needed so she had begged off.

She shared with me that she felt like she was in real trouble
with the group though she didn't understand quite why.  None of
the girls had been exactly virginal during their week on the
Jamaican beach.

We commiserated on this - one thing I've learned over the years
is that women in general can be bitches to each other and when
you got a group of them together they could turn into judgmental
monsters - and I found myself warming up to this very young coed
just a bit.

I had met Karen for the first time the night before while at the
party, and if her costume for that event had made her appear
young (It was a cotton night gown and a young girls cotton
panties) this morning's clothing choice made her more so.   A
simple tank-top featuring a cute kitten with nothing beneath put
the accent on her small frame and breasts, and the yellow jean
shorts were of the cut that one might find at a children's shop.
Her hair, done in two ponytails, made her look like a middle
schooler at best.  She was even wearing socks with the frilly
colored tops like those my mom had bought at the five and dime
store.

I decided that the baby doll look was done purposely as I knew
she was a college student, but  it was still disconcerting to see
her there drinking a beer and knowing she had probably spent the
night having sex with the couple in the condo across the
courtyard.

Karen and I said little as we dined, but as the greasy food
soaked up some of the poison, she began to share her plans for
the day.  As turned out, she had met a very interesting man the
day before who actually lived at the resort part of the year and
he had invited her by to see his bungalow.  She really did want
to see it, but didn't want to be alone with the man in his home
as it would be weird - would mind coming along?  She began to
give me a bit of a full court press on the idea of being a third
wheel for the day.

I was not a fan of the idea but couldn't get a word in edgewise
to say so, but then she told me that he had really good cocaine -
a drug I hadn't had in close to three years and one that almost
killed me.  I found myself suddenly open to the idea, especially
knowing that John would be asleep for the next few hours at least
and might never find out.

We finished up our meal and Karen and I grabbed another beer for
the road.  We made our way up a patch toward the "prude' side of
the resort towards a larger old building that was out of place
versus the ratty beach condos that made up the rest of the
resort.   As we progressed up the hill, it felt like we were
entering a place we shouldn't be as guests of the resort, but we
passed many staff employees and no one moved to dissuade us.

(Though I did hear words like "stinga" and "skettle" being
bandied about which I later learned loosely meant "lover" and
"slut.")

We got to the house and found it had its own patio, pool and was
in general was a self-contained home.  The glass door was open
and the owner quickly emerged.  A man in his mid-30s, tall, thin
and with the kind of skin one only gets from living a life under
the sun, greeted Karen with enthusiasm and me with surprise.  He
invited us to sit at his deck and we made small talk for a while.

The obligatory "where you from's" quickly behind us, I found out
that the man was named Frank and that he was one of the first of
the millionaires that had come from the then budding pc business.
 Having invented some piece of code that was deemed vitally
important for something, he now had enough to live his life as he
wanted as long as he wasn't too extravagant and felt no need to
toil further.

Lacking family or close friends he had done the math and decided
that he could live at all-inclusive resorts for a few years quite
inexpensively while having a lot of fun and all the while his
wealth would draw interest.  So far it was a plan that had worked
for him - he spent his time between resorts he move between
throughout the year and in each he had built himself something of
a life.

Our visit was formal at first, and though I'm sure at first he
regarded me as what is now referred to as a "cock block" I think
he quickly warmed to me, and I to him.  He was if nothing else a
charming and interesting man - well educated with a clever wit
and a gift for good conversation.

Karen actually even seemed to be a bit jealous, which I sensed
and felt a bit bad about as ultimately I knew that I had a
husband at home sleeping one off that I needed to contend with.
I had already cheated on my husband a few times, but was unlikely
to do so here.

We finished our beers, were given another and slowly a bit more
of the hangover drifted out of my brain, replaced by the dull
pleasure of cold beer and warm ocean breeze.  At some point,
Frank mentioned that we were beginning to fry in the sun and
invited us in to see his place.

Inside, the home was not very big - really more of a cabin than a
home.  A large main room downstairs with an attached kitchen and
bath and a room upstairs open to the downstairs with an oversized
bed.  The room would have made a good sized hotel room, but was
rather small for a permanent living quarters equipped with stereo
equipment, a bar and a television.  Books, boxes and other things
were stacked haphazardly in nooks and corners giving the whole
room a crowded and disorganized feel.

The couches were large and comfortable - by far the most
comfortable we had found on the island.  There was a large glass
coffee table on which was quickly poured a small but generous
pile of cocaine.  I know my coke, and this looked very, very good
and said so. (It was my way of letting Frank know I was totally
cool with the drugs - I think he had a concern I wouldn't be.)
Frank explained that most cocaine on the island was shit made for
tourists and that he had his delivered from high grade supplies
destined for the mainland.

Since Karen was sitting next to Frank, she got the straw first
and I watched her body jerk to attention as she took the line and
it hit her full force.  I had no idea what her past exposure to
the drug was, but it was obvious she had been "lit up" by it. 
She leaned back (onto Frank's shoulder) and let the drug take her
fully for a few seconds and I watched her eyes fill with bliss.

When the small straw made its way to me I took my turn without
hesitation.  This was a devil I had known for much of my life and
I welcomed him back after a long absence.  Frank was 100% right.
The thrill I felt hit every part of my body in some rather
amazing ways.  Not only was my hangover 100% gone but I felt like
I wanted to go dancing and scream from the rooftops.  This shit
was good.

As happens when cocaine is used, the volume of conversation went
up a notch and everyone got antsy and less reserved.  Karen asked
for another line and we went another round, and I asked the
foolish question if Frank didn't get lonely living here with a
constantly changing population of vacationers all the time.

He looked at his arm where Karen was currently attempting to
snuggle him and he smirked, I got the joke and smiled
appreciatively.  He asked if I was easily shocked and I, interest
piqued, said no.  He pointed at a book behind me - a photo album
of the type that used to be so popular before Flickr and
Instagram took over the world, and motioned for me to look at it.

I reached out and got it, and opened it at random.  In each photo
there was another party or another snorkeling trip or something
equally as fun.  There was a pretty girl in many if not most, and
every one was partially or fully naked.  About every 10th picture
was amateur porn staring some past vacationer who had made their
way to this bungalow or one of his others.  In a very few, there
were more than one girl with Frank, and in one even a woman and
another man with him in a very compromising position.  Every
conceivable sex act was covered - all with a Polaroid camera.
(This was well before the days of digital cameras or the
internet.)

All told, there were perhaps three dozen different girls on
display in this album, many with mouths, cunts or even asses full
of a fairly impressive cock that was presumably Franks.  The
girls were every size, shape, age and skin color. As my eyes grew
bigger with every passing page Frank's smirk grew.  It was a
pretty amazing display and he seemed quite proud of himself.

I think Frank was looking for shock in my response at first, and
failing to get that, looked for interest instead.  If this - cold
beer, pure cocaine, and hot amateur porn - were Frank's way of
encouraging debauchery it was a pretty fine mix, though I was
perhaps the wrong audience given the presence of my conked out
husband close by.

Karen hadn't seen the photos and - especially since she was hyped
out on coke - was very interested in seeing what I was seeing.  I
was frankly reluctant to give it up not just because I was
actually fascinated by it but because part of me was concerned
what young Karen might think or do.  Eventually I handed it over,
and watched Karen turn 10 shades of red as she began flipping
through the pages.

Again, this was at a time before the internet and while there
were dirty movies and magazines, the circulation was limited. It
is possible that she had never seen photos like this before ever
in her young life.  She was no virgin - I had seen that myself -
but I do think she was a bit shocked at first.  Her body language
changed to express discomfort and embarrassment and she moved
away from Frank on the couch, but she did not stop flipping the
pages.

I found myself looking for something to do with myself as the
mood of the place had definitely changed. There was the
unmistakable smell of wetness in the warm thick air and I wasn't
to be very honest sure if it was coming from Karen or from me. 
(I did realize I was sweating and a bit lubricated, but it was,
as I've said, very good cocaine.)  I looked around the room for
something else to talk about and realized there was perhaps 8
more albums just like that one spread on shelves and sitting on
boxes within site. My interest was high, but I didn't ask.

Instead, to remove the awkwardness I got up and looked out onto
the pool, mentioning that it would be nice to take a quick dip. 

Frank said "be my guest" and I took the opportunity to slip out
of the situation.  I unzipped my golf skirt and removed my blouse
and jumped quickly into the pool.  (My swimsuit this day was a
very pale green and simply cut.)

The pool was small so I swam to the far side, then back, and then
back again underwater and realized I was not followed.  It was
several minutes later that Karen exited the door, naked and
looking every bit the young girl she had clothed and made barely
a ripple as she slipped into the water.  Frank followed behind a
minute or so, also naked.  They both swam to me and we looked out
over the deck to the ocean beyond.

Frank was cool and friendly, but he definitely had an agenda
which was to get laid.  Figuring by my bathing suit that I was
perhaps not the best target for his interests he quickly set his
sights on Karen, and Karen was certainly open to his advances. 
As their bodies slid closely together in the refreshing water, I
actually found myself feeling like a third wheel, though I wasn't
really anxious to leave.  (The lines we had done were quite
generous, but we had barely made a dent in the pile of coke on
that coffee table.)

I love to swim in water, but have never been one to just stand in
it as it give me an odd feeling I can never explain.  I hopped
out and lacking a towel, simply found a place on the wooden deck
and stretched out to dry in the sun.  Frank and Karen played a
gentle game of seduction together, but it was discrete and rather
conservative versus what I had seen from Karen the night before,
so I simply laid back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

I found myself in an old mode that should have set off a red
flag. I wanted more cocaine and was suddenly very concerned that
should those two disappear inside together, I might quickly find
myself the odd person out.  I found myself standing up, removed
my wet swimsuit and jumped in the water - something that was a
move that surprised even me.

Frank and Karen both noticed the move, and somehow read my vibe
that I was open for some flirty fun. When I surfaced from the
water, my presence was acknowledged and I became part of the
group.  It was innocent, but with an edge.  Bodies touched
casually under the water and we all talked of nothing as we
enjoyed the day.

Soon enough, Frank suggested that we were again getting too much
sun but that there was another line and a beer available inside.
He popped out of the water and sat down on a chair and we did
too, hair aside, we were dry within a few minutes.

We all walked in naked and there was no attempt to re-dress. 

Frank started to cut a line and realized his wet hair was leaving
drops in the coke so he retrieved a smaller mirror that he used
to cut the coke (one we could hold up to our faces and not have
to lean over the line as much.)   We all took two as we sat there
naked and the volume went up another level.

I was bolder than before as I was amped to the gills. I stood up
and walked around the living room, grabbing another album to find
that it too featured a mix of vacation photos and hardcore smut.

This album seemed to have been made at his other "home" in
Vietnam and his friends and females had a European look.  I was a
bit shocked to see occasional Asian girls - some quite young -
mixed in with the French, Germans and Danes.   The sex in this
book was more frequent, more graphic and more elaborate, some of
it featuring fetish clothing and minor toys.  It is said that
Americans are less comfortable with sex than Americans and this
album compared to the other showed this to be true.

As I paged through the album, Karen and Frank got very
comfortable with each other indeed.  Finally there was a first
kiss and very quickly after some serious touching. In the space
of a few minutes, Karen had Frank hard and I could tell it was
about to get very active.  They both were glancing at me
expectantly and I felt like I had to declare my intentions for
involvement.  I certainly wasn't ready to leave - there was still
coke - but the idea of being part of a threesome with Karen and
Frank held limited attraction.

I panicked a bit and then realized I had the answer in my hand. 
I smiled and simply asked "Frank, where do you keep your camera?"


There were smiles all around, and Frank motioned toward a cabinet
where I found the Polaroid.  I was still a bit unsure of where
all of this was going to lead, but Frank handed me the little
mirror and a straw and said I should meet them upstairs.

The two of them walked hand and hand up the steep stairway and I
held the mirror with the line on it. I sniffed it up and on a
lark put cut another quick small dot from the larger pile.  I was
plenty amped when I climbed the stairs to see the two of them
already hard at it.

I took a few shots - the old Polaroids aren't like modern cameras
where you can take 100's.  I tried hard to line up really quality
and well lit work, and as I did so I wondered how many of the
other shots in Franks albums were taken by husbands or
girlfriends of his bedmates in the pictures.

As we proceeded, Karen did her best to pose while Frank did his
best to ignore the camera.  She took Frank in her mouth and
licked and sucked theatrically.  She got on top; she got on her
hands and knees.  He tried to put himself between her breasts,
and given little to work with failed.  He ate her out and used
his fingers until her sex was a sloppy wet mess and then went to
work on top.  He was nothing if not thorough.

There was a mirror on the headboard of the bed, and I was amused
to find that many photos included not just the couple but also my
own nude body, my face being hidden by the large camera.  I kept
snapping photos, placing each on a small ledge to "dry."  I
finally realized I had two photos left and made the mistake of
saying so.  Frank said it was time for me to be in a picture and
would not take no for an answer.

I'd already had my share of problems with smutty Polaroids from
my past surfacing in embarrassing ways, and was not about to join
Frank for a photo that might later be seen by my husband and it
was that simple, but Frank was persistent so eventually I crawled
into bed for a shot with Karen, which was comparatively innocent.
 (We held each other's breasts hand bra style.)

It was one shot of two and then Frank put the camera aside and
crawled back into bed.  He knew better than to try to have sex
with me I think, but instead took Karen from behind in such a way
that he pushed her face basically into my lap.  Karen was into
the idea, I wasn't so sure, so instead I scooted myself to the
side of them.  It's odd to say now, but while I didn't want to
have sex with them I also didn't want to offend them so I stood
on my knees next to them and let my hands rove over their bodies,
cupping her breasts and the cheeks of his butt.  I think it
worked as very quickly he was moving fast and before I even knew
it he was cumming all over Karen's ass and back.  He came a lot
and it got all over my hand and arm.  Seeing my opportunity to
extradite myself I crawled off the bed and took a final shot of
the mess of Karen's back and Frank smiling above.

They were exhausted and fell onto the bed as only spent lovers
can.  I took the opportunity to take my naked self downstairs
where I popped a bit more cocaine, stepped out the door and
jumped into the pool.  I realized that the afternoon was nearly
done so I grabbed my slipped on the dry skirt and blouse and took
my discarded and still damp bikini in hand.   I stuck my head in
the door and said a quick goodbye which was not acknowledged,
took a final small snort of the cocaine and practically ran back
to my room.

John hadn't stirred and was still asleep in bed, so I removed my
clothes, crawled into bed and woke him up in the best way I know
how....