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 ########## 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....