Note: The text below is not what you might be used to reading
here. This is my own memory of a trip to Hedonism II, an
all-inclusive, clothing optional resort in Jamaica that took
place a long time ago.  If it reads more like a Penthouse Forum
letter than a travel report at times, it's because, well, there
was a lot of sex involved.  Hedonism is just like that.  It also
includes things like the minutia of life and things like
relationships and motivations. I think those are much more
important - even when talking about sex- then such details as bra
sizes and circumcision status.

This is my story - just a part of it right now, but I'll keep
going if anyone is interested.  I've posted it here for everyone
but please do not repost it or use the contents in any unintended
fashion.  I'd hate to see it on some dirty website, so I guess
I'll just say all copyright protections and international
protections apply and my lawyer is meaner than a pit bull with
AIDS.

######

Our trip of Jamaica

It was the mid-90's. We were a little less than two years into
our marriage and my husband broached the subject of a summer
vacation.  Our previous vacation - our first together - had been
a trip to Hawaii when we got married.  It had been a spectacular
wedding in many ways, held in a beautiful plantation at a private
home, but with everything going on in the way of wedding guests
it had not been very relaxing.  Since John and I don't have much
family our guests were mostly vendors and long-time customers of
his clothing business.  The wedding was as much a business
conference as a celebration.  (And yes, that had really annoyed
me.)

John (my husband) travels the globe on business, so his first
suggestions were exotic places like France or Bali, but I was
still sorting through my legal issues associated with some drug
charges. (That's a long story for another time.)  I had been
cleared for foreign travel but my situation was still a bit
precarious.   The idea of going half way around the globe so that
I might possibly be refused entry into a country or, even worse,
held while they figured out what to do with me, held little
attraction.

We looked at Florida (too family oriented for where we were in
the relationship) and other places, but finally started doing a
little investigation work and found that Jamaica had an
incredibly friendly relationship with the U.S. and my status
would likely not be much trouble.  In the unlikely event, the
trip home was small.  So we focused in on that.
We looked at the pricier resorts and the then new Sandals Couples
resorts before almost accidently stumbling on the information for
Hedonism II, an all-inclusive that promised free alcohol,
no-children and lots of opportunities for inappropriate adult
behavior.

My husband and I were not (and are not) swingers, but we were
still in our honeymoon phase, and I was his scandalously young
second wife.  Something spoke to us about the idea of going to a
clothing optional beach club where bending the rules of decorum
was on the menu rather than some fancy resort.  The price was
good too - there were some pretty amazing combo flight/resort
packages - and we were still paying off some pretty serious legal
bills. (Mine caused by my ongoing legal issues - his from a
lengthy and messy divorce).
We decided "What the hell, how bad can it be?" and booked it with
a minimum of research.  We always figured if it was horrible we
could probably just ditch the place and find a more upscale Hotel
on the island later.

When we boarded the airplane from South Florida, we knew that we
were in for a good time.  The crowd that was boarding with us was
pretty much all headed to "Hedo" and most were half in the tank
before even settling into their seats.  It was a short plane
ride, but not smooth - A few of the revelers looked like they
lost their lunch before landing in what seemed like the
incredible number of bathrooms available for what was actually a
small plane.

Montego Airport was a disaster so by the time we boarded the
buses most of our fellow travelers were getting grumpy.  (It was
what I've come to recognize now as third world customs
procedures. No rhyme or reason to anything.  The inevitable
"Let's try to fleece the tourists as soon as they get here"
reception of faux baggage handlers and tour and condo salespeople
only made it more confusing.)   We were told we would be met with
a bus to take us the resort and it was right on time. The bus was
old, the roads uneven and the driving unsafe.  When we arrived
John and I almost kissed the ground we were so thankful to have
arrived in one piece.

Check-in was smooth though when John asked about things like a
business center, fax machine, etc. to keep in touch with his
business the receptionist just laughed like he was making a joke.
 She gave us our key, very, very general directions on how to get
to our room of the "over yonder" variety, and shooed us on our
way.  (John was more than a little annoyed by that.)
We walked down the outdoor path that led to the small condo-like
buildings and admired the lush lawns, trees and flowerbeds that
finally told us we had finally arrived on a tropical island.

Our room was close to the ocean though the door into the
condo-style was away from the beach.  Inside was small and
slightly Spartan- a nice comfortable bed, a small storage area
for clothes, and not much else.  I remember a radio but I do not
remember a TV.

The drapes were closed.  I opened them to let some light into the
room and that's when I realized what we were in for.  Outside was
a sea of naked bodies including a handful of couples busy
painting each other's naked parts with what I could only hope was
water soluble paints.  It turned out that our room was just on
the other side of a small walking path from the sands of
Hedonism's nude beach.

John looked over my shoulder to see what I had involuntarily
gasped about, and he was amused.

We stood quietly for a few minutes and watched the people walk
by. Some were young and handsome/pretty. More were middle aged
Caucasians in various stages of repair from well-kept to a total
wreck. Other than the absence of children and senior citizens,
and being a little bit light on brown skinned people, it looked
alike your average cross section of the U.S. population - except
for the penises, pusses and tits hanging out of course.

Finally we closed the drapes again and sat down to collect our
thoughts.  I guess I was a bit visibly shaken by it all.  John
offered to see if we could find another room - he had heard there
was a "prude" side to the seaside colony, and we certainly
weren't there.  He sensed I was overwhelmed and offended, and in
truth I was feeling rather uneasy.  For all of my slutty ways
during my teenaged drug-addled years, I had never gotten quite
used to public nudity. (Oh, I had engaged in it a few times in
very controlled situations such as backyard pools and once on a
farm with a handful of likeminded pot-heads, but usually under
the gentle peer pressure of a boyfriend of those times that had
an odd kind of control over me.  I was never comfortable with
it.)

I really did want to move to a different room or even maybe a
different resort - but there were some strains in our marriage of
late.  I didn't want to widen any cracks in the relationship on
something silly like this when we were busy having the big
discussions of family versus career and his latest push to move
us from sunny California to the faraway northwest.   John was
much older than me (14 years) and was treating me a bit like a
child of late, and I thought perhaps I'd choose my battles.  The
battle over our accommodations didn't seem worth having. Besides,
I'd signed up for this vacation with full knowledge this was
going to happen - though not outside our window - and felt some
obligation.

So I told him I'd keep an open mind but that I needed a drink,
which was the totally right answer.

We had already dressed for South Florida weather, but we seemed
overdressed for the resort.  John dug out a little guest book for
the place and found that the bar and restaurant area was swimsuit
friendly during the day, so we traded our resort wear for swim
wear.  I had multiple swim suits with me - most of which I ended
up not using - but this day chose a mustard color string top with
a French cut bottoms that looked fabulous on my newly healthy
frame.  John wore trunks and a tee - an unusually casual look for
him; though he filled it out nicely.  (John has been a dedicated
health nut his entire life and is still attractive enough to turn
women's heads even today.)

The bar was at the intersection between what we learned was the
"nude" and "prude" sides of the resort.  This was a shared zone
that was more conservative and clothed during the day and early
evening and - we would soon learn - turned into an epicenter for
drunken debauchery after a certain hour of the evening.

Drinks were included as part of our package and I quickly found
that although the drinks were weak they were good.  Combined with
the hot sun the mix was perfect so that I didn't get too wasted
too quickly.
John was a bit put off by the lack of quality liquor selection,
but Red Stripe is a beer and in the tropics a cold beer will
always put a smile on your face.  We had three each in the next
hour before realizing we were roasting in the tropical sun.

We decided to go back to the room to get our sun block, fearing
we might already be too late, but John dared me to take a walk on
the beach first, so we did and made our way towards the nude
beach for the first time.  We were surprised to find it mostly
empty as it was late afternoon and quite hot.  People had either
taken to the water sport activities like snorkeling and wind
surfing or retired to their room for whatever adults do after
sitting a nude beach together for hours.

The few nude bodies I did see tended to be other new arrivals,
some of whom we had met on the plane briefly.  It was odd
suddenly knowing that studly Bill from Chicago had incredibly big
balls though an almost comically small cock, his beautiful wife
Glenda's boobs suffered for post-child droop, and the plain-jane
timid couple from Albany suddenly looked like Greek gods without
the dull Bermuda shorts and matching Hawaiian shirts.  I wasn't
in Kansas (or Iowa where I grew up) anymore.

We walked back to the room and grabbed our lotions. John pulled
off his tee-shirt and it was obvious that he had already gotten a
bit too much sun.  The area where his shirt met his arm had a
clear red ring, which was repeated on the other arm and on his
neck.  He pulled up his shorts leg and found it was actually a
bit better - his legs had been hidden under the bar.  I dropped
the top on my suit and found I too had some redness. Nothing bad,
but I had to be more careful.

We spent some time applying aloe vera lotion, which turned into
something more, as you could expect.  (We were newlyweds after
all.)  The sex though, provided an answer to many of my concerns.

Just like every new couple, there were times we made love, and
times that we fucked.  Given that we were in a hotel room next to
a nude beach, I had expected John to be in pure on "fuck" mode,
but I was surprised to find that he was slow and tender.   No
athletics - no swapping oral, 69 or swinging from the ceiling -
just lots of kissing and straight on missionary that was
passionate yet comforting and satisfying.

I found myself feeling more confident and comfortable with each
small kiss and gentle thrust.  This wasn't about the naked women
outside or the adult party times we were hearing about that
sounded pretty wild.  This was about us and about his love for me
- and it was a bit of a comfort at a very uncomfortable time.

We slept for a while after that, and when we woke up the sun was
almost down.  We were both hungry so we decided to check out the
central area where they served the meals. I had gotten just
enough skin color to pull off a pretty daring yet casual white
dress that I'd brought along while John opted for a golf shirt
and some slacks.  We wondered over to find that the outdoor
banquet area just beginning to fill up as others made their way
in.   You could tell by the looks of others that we weren't the
only ones fresh from a nap and more than a few carried the look
and even the smell of fresh sex.  It was a pretty laid back crowd
but had an edge to it. Not a dangerous edge - just an
uncontrolled atmosphere.

We sat at a table for four and as the room got crowded another
couple asked if they could sit with us.  Such are friends made in
every resort.  We happily invited them to sit.  A very nice
couple - late 20's or very early 30's.  Dan was a software guy
and Liz she was a designer of some sort.  We chatted with them
happily over dinner and drinks afterward. They had been at Hedo
for a few days already and when we told them we knew very little
about the place, they volunteered to show us around.

Since John and I had been up since around 4AM and quickly found
ourselves tired by 10PM, about the time dinner was winding down
and the bar was beginning to show some signs of serious life.  We
apologized for being such sticks in the mud but said we'd take
them up on the invitation for a tour if it was still open the
next morning.  We set aside a time to meet with them and said our
goodbye.

We walked back to our room by the ocean, and although it was
still very early by Hedo standards, the nightlife was clearing
revved up for the evening.  There was a small deck area anchored
off shore about 50 yards and a large group was loudly carrying on
and from at least one room there were the sounds of a small party
in full swing.  The smell of marijuana drifted out of more than a
few windows.

I hate to sound like a bore, but we entered our room, removed our
clothing and fell into bed, both close to asleep before we hit
the pillows.  The next day would be very wild though - amongst
the wildest of my life (which is saying something) and wilder
than any my husband had ever been involved with.
Daytime day 2: Dan and Lisa Give Us a Tour - Nude Beaches, lotion
bukkake and Pot.

We had been dog tired the night before, so we slept in until
around 8:30 - which was hours behind our normal wake-up time.  
As we showered I began my internal debate on appropriate attire -
this place was very casual - and decided for breakfast I'd go
with my pink print bikini and a tan golf skirt, with a very loose
white cotton top. (I thought way the pink bikini top showed
through the white top was a bit daring, and I knew the skirt was
one of my husband's favorites.)   The hair went into a loose
ponytail with a visor and big glasses to keep the morning sun
manageable.  Dan also went with the golf look in a print golf
shirt and shorts.  White tennies all around

(Why I remember these details I don't know - clothing is just
such an asterisk in the whole Hedonism experience - though it was
required in all of the food service areas other than a very small
burger kiosk on the nude beach.)

We met Dan and Lisa and had a light breakfast, and then they gave
us the lay of the land in the resort.   We started on the "prude"
side - and found that it was mostly just duplex style condo rooms
just like on the "nude" side where we were staying.   At center
of the resort was a big pool and bar area with the restaurants at
the top of the property away from the water.  They also pointed
at the gates out of the resort and told us that if we decided to
venture out, we should be careful as the village Jamaicans
considered it something of a game to see how much they could con
or steal from tourists.

(It's a different story entirely - and not one I'll tell right
now - but there was some truth to that.)

Finally we got to our side of the resort, which was the more
"anything goes" area.  They started light - pointing out where
the gym and the small convenience/souvenir store was located -
but we soon found ourselves in a private area with multiple hot
tubs including one that was as large as any swimming pool.

"This is where you have to decide how open minded you are if you
come at night," Liz said by way of introduction. "If you aren't
shocked by Hedonism while at the tubs, nothing else here will
faze you."

We pushed for details of course, but they just smiled and kept
walking.  The tubs were uninhabited anyway as it was already very
warm, so there wasn't really much to see.

Finally we made our way to the nude beach - which was still
sparsely populated, but definitely quite nude even at the early
hour.  Perhaps 20 people - a mix of sexes and ages were splashing
in the surf or sitting on the cheap recliners and another couple
was added to the mix every few minutes.

We stood there long enough in our clothing to be slightly
embarrassed for ourselves -and finally moved away back towards
the bar.

Dan and John hit it off quickly and as soon as they got to the
bar they were off talking about all the things men think go talk
about. Liz and I were a little stiffer at first, sharing small
details of our lives and killing time together before finally
opening up a bit as the second hard drink of the young day began
to take its' toll on our heat softened brains.

Liz was the first to talk first and think second, asking
impolitely if John wasn't much older than me. Guilty as charged -
and quite obvious- so I admitted our age difference. She further
compounded her lack of discretion by expressing surprise that
John and I were actually married.  I think she initially saw me
as his midlife crisis girlfriend. (In my weaker moments, I was
capable of thinking the same thing.)

Politeness out the window now - I returned the favor by asking
her if she and Dan's Hedonism experience stopped at losing their
suits at the nude beach. Were they swingers or sex tourists or
whatever they were calling it at the time?

She blushed a bit, admitted that she and Dan had done some things
in the hot tubs that would probably shock her neighbors at home,
but it was only with each other and probably appeared quite
innocent compared to some of the things she had seen over the
last few days.

I was intrigued by this actually and said "well, I imagine by the
end of this week I'll do things that would shock your neighbors
too, though mine already think I'm a whore."

Liz laughed - and put two-and-two together enough to realize I
was probably referring to the age issue.  "So you're the young
trophy wife? How exciting is that!!"

She lifted her drink and said "Fuck the neighbors" and I touched
my plastic cup of rum to hers and said "Well, I'd rather not fuck
the neighbors at home, but I'll keep an open mind to fucking the
ones I meet while I'm here."

We laughed until our husbands broke from the spell of their own
conversation and asked what was so funny.  We just shook our
heads and laughed, and Liz said to them both."We just realized
that our hotel room is right next to yours."

Our eyes met and she gave me a wink, and then said.  "One more
drink and we'll be back in bed and not in a good way, darlins'. 
Let's finish these up and go hit the beach."

We downed our drinks, and got another for the walk back. (They
were free.) We walked together to find that Dan and Liz were , in
fact, neighbors as their condo was in the duplex directly next
door.  We parted with a goodbye but no firm plans on when next to
connect.  It was a small resort and it went without saying that
we would see each other in short order.

Once in our room, John and I found ourselves just a bit
uncomfortable with what to do next.  We sat and looked at each
other - took the time to actually unpack our suitcases as we
hadn't done it the night before, and finally it was time to
address what was next.   I sensed that it was a big step what we
were doing - and finally just looked at John and smiled. 
"Honey," I said, "I'm just going to have to come to terms with
the fact that other girls are going to know what you've got. If
they cain't control themselves well, I'll just have to deal with
that when the time comes. You think murder is illegal here?"

I smiled, and pulled off all of my clothes. John watched me. When
he dropped his pants it was obvious that we wouldn't be heading
straight to the beach.

John was always so cute with his erection back then - kind of
like a little boy who didn't know what to do with himself.  Half
embarrassment and half foolish pride.  I took it in my hand, told
him he couldn't go to the nude beach that way, and reached over
and grabbed the cool aloe vera lotion and squirted in straight
onto his cock.  He winced a bit, but less so when I gave it a few
strokes then bent myself over the small table in the room and
presented myself in a manner he had become very accustomed to
during our short marriage.  (We all have our favorite positions -
and mine tended to be bent over a couch back or something similar
- more than once it had been the railing of a high hotel room
balcony - though a cheap table in a cheaper hotel room would do
in this occasion.)

He was in me quickly.  He never needed to be coaxed, and his
hands were under my breasts almost immediately.  We were
seriously into it before I looked over and realized that the
curtains to the window out to the nude beach were wide open. 
While we were not directly in view, our reflection in a mirror
that lined one wall of the small room was.  I saw a few smiling
faces immediately as they passed by on the cement walkway that
separated the beach from the accommodations, and more than a few
more walked by during the next few minutes until we finished.  
No one stopped to gawk, but a few registered what was going on.

John was oblivious to it all - and I excused myself at first by
saying they really didn't see anything, though if I could see
them in the reflection they could see me. .  As John developed
his rhythm, I found I didn't really care.
We finished up with a sigh and a laugh, and then I went to the
bathroom to wipe away his deposit while John took moments to
cover himself with lotion.  He had opined that it might prove
awkward to baste his privates in lotion once he was on the beach
and around so many naked wenches, yet didn't want to risk burning
anything that might be handy later.

With our coupling had come bravado, but with its conclusion the
modesty and self-doubt returned.  Moments before, I hadn't been
concerned with being in flagrante within view of an open window
and a crowded pathway.  Now my mind was focused on the idea that
it might be the tale-tell trickle of liquid down the inside of my
leg that might set me apart from the naked throng. The prospect
of meeting our new friends Liz and Dan while I was naked
mortified me further.

And so I did what I always did when I got nervous and started
reviewing my clothing selection.

I opted for a playful bikini made from micro-thin pink flannel
material dotted with small red cherries.   It was a string bikini
in every sense of the word, with a panty that looked like an hour
glass if you considered the crotch as the pinch point and cups
that were really two small strips to hide nipples with room for
spillage out either side.  The strips were held in place with
spaghetti thin straps that I tied at each hip and behind my neck.
There were also some very thin Velcro straps on the edges of all
the material to keep the cloth tight next to my body.

The effect of it all would have been scandalous at any pool -
possibly even the pools Vegas back then (this was before the big
hotels opened their topless pools.)    I considered it to be a
big step towards nudity, but enough to keep my sanity until I was
on the beach and with others of the naked persuasion.
John exited the bathroom and saw my covering. His face was hard
to read.  We exited the building with john in a loose hotel
terrycloth robe and me in my little bitty pink bikini.

Turning  the corner of our condo, the sound and wind from the
beach hit us in the face, and the way John tensed just a bit I
could tell he was a wee bit apprehensive. I wasn't as concerned
about wearing my bikini out to the beach here - many of the naked
bathers arrived in clothing they took off on arrival.

I found myself looking, evaluating bodies, and when John pointed
to a few empty lounge chairs; I was distracted by his voice
enough to trip on a rock and find myself careening temporarily
off balance.  I fell heavily onto an occupied lounge chair and
found I myself basically face to chest with Dan - my semi-exposed
boobs almost surrounding his naked manhood, which was just inches
below on the chair. Sitting nearby was Liz - not wearing a stitch
either.  Both reviewed my situation with mild amusement.

We said our hellos and Dan congratulated John on having braved
the journey. (They later told us that this was the discussion
they had been having at the bar - John's trepidation at walking
to this beach for the first time.)  We pulled our chairs just a
bit closer and Dan handed John a can of beer from an ice bucket
while Lisa gave me a compliment on my bikini.  She did giggle a
bit and said it was so hot it was nastier than if I was just
naked, which made me feel simultaneously more confident, but also
more embarrassed if that's even possible.

We chatted a bit on the welcome nature of the hot sun and the
cold beer, and after a bit of idle chatter, the heat got to us
and we all leaned back to roast in the mid-morning sun.

I have never been good with describing people, I'm sorry to say,
but suffice it to say that Dan looked to be more of surfer type
than anyone who programmed computers had a right to be then. (The
PC was just beginning to break out of nerd circles.  Most
programmers were either pencil necked or grossly overweight)  
Longer light blonde hair, smooth chest and well defined muscles
he would have been at home on a surf board - a real hot one.  As
he wasn't wearing any trunks, I guess I'd add he looked better
than average down below.  His pubic hair was trimmed - unusual on
a man at that time - and it made his cock - soft though it was -
look bigger than most.

Lisa was curvier than an average surfer girl. Her body type and
hair/skin colors were like a well-proportioned Italian girl - big
breasts, small waist, and big hips - though her complete absence
of hair down below set her apart from the dark haired beauties I
would see years later on the Mediterranean.

She lacked tan lines anywhere.

Realizing that I was checking them out, I took a moment to think
about how we looked from their eyes.  John was 40 and while he
took care of himself incredibly well and always had, he did have
a gray hair or two in his pubes and on his chest and his dark
skin had begun to show the signs of middle age.

(He wasn't old - he was distinguished - but there are no secrets
when you stand in the sun completely naked as he had been doing.)


As for myself, I was 27 and had built myself a body I was quite
proud of over the last two years with some help from some doctors
and dentists.  No plastic surgery or fake boobies - but I had
spent a lot of years as a heavy drug user and had been painfully
thin.  At 25 I had been looked like a stick with two cantaloupe
sized breasts attached - no ass, no skin color, bad teeth and the
brittle hair that comes with a steady diet of amphetamines,
cocaine and alcohol.

Now I had the best ceramic teeth and after 24 months of well
managed diet and exercise, I rated myself as a solid 8 or more
body wise.  I still had a runners build for the most part, and my
breasts had filled back out after the scrawny appearance that can
happen with women who aren't eating.  My honeysuckle blonde hair
- which was blowing wild in the beach breeze, matched a similar
colored mane that might be found between my legs.  (The one down
below trimmed tight lest it be peeking of my bikini bottoms.)

I realized that as I had taken a self-inventory, I had actually
moved my body in such a way as to expose it more.  I was feeling
sexy and had found myself moving like it.  I looked around to see
that Dan and Liz had kind of noticed and were smirking a bit.  I
made a big show of how I loved the feel of the sun on my skin and
smiled back at them.  Liz, who I was quickly learning was one to
kid, matched my move with an exaggerated pose and in doing so had
us both in hysterics.

Seeking to prevent her little joke from sinking in and making me
embarrassed she stood up and grabbed my hand.  "Twyla dear, your
skin is going to be well-done in this sun if you don't lather up,
but first lets go take a swim" and pulling my arm we made a dash
for the water.

The water of Negril beach was warm - warmer than any natural
water that I had ever experienced.  (Lakes and rivers in Iowa
were cold - and those in northern California not much better.)  I
usually went in a few steps and stood while acclimating, but on
this water was as so inviting that I kept going until I was in to
my neck and beyond. Liz was behind me, and I felt her arms
stretch out and engulf my upper body.  She pulled herself to me.
I could feel her breasts on my back and her chin resting on
shoulder.

She whispered in my ear "- What was the sexy pose stuff?? Are you
trying to get my man's attention?"

The question was filled with something - though not jealousy and
venom.  An invitation maybe?   In answer I just said "I felt sexy
and just did it. You saw it too."  I don't know why I added that
last part - but she reached around and cupped my breasts under
the water then.  "Well, just understand we're a package deal" she
said.  "If you're in to that, cool. If not, stay away from him."


She swam away, but not before grabbing the top string at the neck
of my bikini, undoing the top and swimming away with it.  I was
underwater to my neck and not sure what to do, so I just stood
there.  She turned around, swam back to me, and undid the bottom
string on my bikini bra, removing it all and swimming to shore
with it.  She bounded out of the water and threw it overhead with
amazing accuracy to my husband.

I was stuck in the water topless, though I assured myself that no
one had noticed. (It was a nude beach after all.)  I was secure
that I alone knew my plight when a group of men started shouting
"Shark-shark" at me.  It wasn't serious - it was a humorous
reference meant to lure me from the water so they could get a
look - but it reminded me that yes, men were looking and there
wasn't much I could do about it.

As I have said, I had been naked before with groups, so I
resolved not to get too worried.  I swam for a bit and chatted
with Liz a bit on subjects I don't remember, and finally we
walked back to the lounge chairs.  I was half way home on my
first nude beach experience, and felt pretty uncomfortable with
it.
(I would have felt better without the chorus of good natured cat
calls and wolf whistles - including those from Dan and my husband
- when I had exited the water.)

Sitting back down, I looked over to see John happily lounging
away full monty and he didn't seem to be too concerned with
anything.  He was a couple of beers down - which was a lot for
him - and seemed relaxed.  I flipped back over onto my stomach
more because I wanted to sun out of my eyes than from modesty,
and as a lark undid the side straps on my bottoms so that I
wouldn't have tan lines on my hips.

I had forgotten the little elastic sides on the bikini panty
bottoms, so when I undid the ties the pants pulled themselves
down as the elastic condensed, revealing my ass crack all the way
to the glory hole.  (If the person reading this is someone with
kids, they probably have seen fitted plastic diapers do something
similar when the side tape is removed.)  I essentially had halved
my skin covering yet again, and in a way that probably looked
like a curtain pulling back.  I didn't even bother to look over
at Dan and Liz, who were probably both smirking to themselves at
their new blonde friend playing peek-a-boo.

I decided to ignore the world and just enjoy the heat, and closed
my eyes for a moment which turned into a kind of nap.  I was
woken up several minutes later with the feeling of multiple
squirts of tanning lotion hitting my back legs and ass and opened
my eyes to see Dan and John squirting the stuff from lotion tubes
strategically located at crotch level.   It was a spectacle
designed to look lewd and the observers on the beach got a good
laugh out of it.  Then I felt Liz's hands coming up over my
calves to the back of my legs and up again.  She laughed as she
began spreading the lotion, "Honey you're going to fry your
naughty bits!"  She cupped my ass cheeks - which were exposed
now, and travelled downward essentially pushing what little
bikini bottoms I had remaining off of my body completely.

The guys did the massaging farther up my back, and those the
amount of lotion and the amount of massaging done to get it into
my skin was well in excess of what was required, I didn't seem to
mind at all, not even when I felt one of Liz's big boobs scrape
over the skin of my leg or when Dan's crotch and my elbow
momentarily touched while he was spreading SPF-50 on my neck.

I laid on my stomach for another 20 minutes or so, and when it
was time to roll over I administered my own lotions, though there
was a steady chorus of voices from men and women all over the
beach who volunteered to help get to the hard to reach spots.

I no longer even bothered with the bikini, discarding it into a
small beach bag I had carried with me.  The nudity seemed natural
after a few minutes, though on occasion a "newbie" fresh off the
bus from the airport would wander by and I felt like Liz and I
got more of their attention than other girls on the beach. 
Depending on the person doing the gawking, I felt either
delicious or defiled - but the feelings only really took shape
when the person looking at me was clothed.  My fellow naked
bathers and I were simpatico.

We finally got hungry and after stopping by our rooms to get some
clothing on since meals were served in non-nudist territory, we
went to lunch.  (While not bad, the praise for food at Hedonism
is faint, so best not to dwell on it.  Edible, and enjoyable, but
hardly noteworthy.)      After the meal, Dan and Liz asked us if
we smoked pot, and if we did, would we like to come to their
room.

My husband doesn't smoke pot or use any illegal drugs and never
has, but he knew my past, and though I had pretty much rehabbed
out of all of my addictions, I did have soft spot in my heart for
pot.  I gave John that imploring look, and given that we were
3000+ miles from home, I guess he decided it would be okay.  He
got himself a drink on the way saying he liked his recreational
drugs in a liquid form, and we were on our way.

When we got to their room, we found it much like our own would be
after a few days.  Laundry everywhere - it looked like a bomb
went off in there - and to their credit they were completely
bought into the Hedo attitude. They didn't seem to care that
their room was a mess.

This brings up the rules on drugs at Hedo.  At the airport, there
are very stern warnings about not using pot or any drugs.  Heavy
fines, imprisonment, etc.  But, any taxi driver would offer you a
trip out to tour the ganja fields.    We found out that social
protocol was that pot was acceptable in your room and maybe on
the beach (especially at night) but not in common areas like
restaurants or bars.   You could buy pot from dealers who would
sit just outside the resort on the beach but you would need to go
around the wall that went across as the dealers would not come to
you.

(We found out that the locals would NOT go into Hedo for any
reason unless invited.   Rumor had it that locals found fucking
with Hedo Resort would wind up dead somewhere. The country took
its investment in the resort very, very seriously and once you
were behind those walls, you were pretty safe.)

Anyway, Dan rolled one and we smoked it leisurely.  Liz said she
had sand in her clothes so she took a minute to strip naked and
put on a swimsuit.  It occurred to me then that her doing that in
this closed room seemed about 1000 times dirtier than anything we
had seen so far inside.  I think she sensed it too, as she seemed
to linger around topless for an unnecessarily long time and kind
of give John a bad time.  I think she was enjoying watching him
squirm.

It was good pot and we were pretty high when it was done. Dan
turned on the radio in the room and we kind of veg'd though John
was a bit uncomfortable as he was not high and if you've ever
been the only sober person in the room you probably get the
issue.

Eventually we left the room but the colors were a little crisper
and the sky a little more blue.  Everything was a bit funnier. 
We didn't even stop back at our room, just motored straight to
the beach and dropped everything we were wearing right on the
sand.  (You don't have to carry money at Hedo and the room keys
weren't marked, so it was pretty safe.)  Dropping all the laundry
like that in front of everyone was actually kind of exhilarating,
I really felt like I had gotten over a hurdle.

We swam, splashed around, laid around and talked about nothing. 
At some point the beach began to empty bit by bit, and finally
Dan and Liz said they were heading back to their room for a
while.  "We're going to take a nap so we're good to go this
evening" was their explanation.  John opined as soon as they had
gone that he thought they were going to go and fuck.   The
twinkle in his eye told me he thought this was a grand idea and I
had to admit I agreed.

We walked back to our rooms naked - which was actually a small
breach of protocol. Even on the nude side, you didn't see many
naked bodies off the beach during the day.  We barely made it
into the room before we were going at it.  We ended screwing on
the floor and John kicked the door closed well after he was in
me.  That curtain was probably open - I don't remember and didn't
care.  When John came - and he rarely ever came any place but in
me, he pulled out instead and his spurts made it all the way to
my hairline.  It was fucking - not making love - and exactly what
I wanted.

We dozed off right there on the carpet, and when we woke back up
the sun was almost down.



Our first night at Hedonism we had been exhausted from travel,
and had gone to bed early, tonight after a full day on the nude
beach and two pretty fulfilling tangles of the romantic type, we
weren't sure if we were ready for the evening or not.  The nap
had helped - but the sun had drained us pretty good.

We dressed - simple shorts and tees and set off to the communal
area at the center of the resort.  We hadn't made plans with our
new friends figuring we'd see them at dinner, and when we got to
the restaurant we looked around and they were nowhere to found. 
After another filling but unremarkable meal we had a few
leisurely drinks under the stars.

There were some fun people and we made small talk, but by 9:30,
both John and I were nodding off again.  We decided to again head
home figuring that we would acclimate and perhaps make a night of
it the next evening.  We went back to the room and undressed, and
we were in bed and fast asleep before 10PM.

We were in danger of being fuddy-duddies, we knew. No one goes to
bed at 9:30 at Hedonism - at least to sleep.   We narrowly
escaped that fate, as soon enough our friends were knocking on
the door and would not take no for an answer until we let them
in.  (I let them in - John was still groggy on the bed wondering
what the hell was going on.)

"It's time for the naughty nightie party" Dan explained. "You'll
have to change - that probably won't be good enough."   I looked
down at myself and realized I was in the same style of bed
clothing I had warn since I was 9 - a loose tee shirt over
panties - and the shirt in this case was none too long.  (John
had tried to get me to wear something nicer to bed since our
marriage - but I had so far resisted.)   John and I both asked
"Naughty nightie party???"  There was just so much we were
unaware of.

I realized for the first time that I wasn't the only one in my
underwear.  Dan was wearing and incredibly tight pair of black
silk underwear and an aqua-blue tee emblazoned with the words "I
had sex with Fred and Wilma."

Liz, who had crawled on the bed and was currently playing
peek-a-boo with John and his bed covers, was wearing a very thin
and see-thru baby-doll and matching black mesh underpants that
were so transparent that literally no part of her bottom, nor any
part of her shaved vagina, were left to the imagination as she
bent over my husband.

Both looked like they were perfectly suited for bedtime in porno
land.

John made a valiant attempt at trying to plead his way out of it,
but something about having this lovely young woman pulling at his
covers finally coaxed him into action.  For my part, I found
myself once again embarrassed for being in the presence of
partial nudity with people I'd spent all day completely naked
with.  Anything that would break the tension of having these two
waving their body parts around in my bedroom I was up for, so I
gave in and agreed.

Little did I know that this would be a case of out of the frying
pan and into the fire.  We were in for the kind of party that
night of the kind they show on the movies but you never believed
anyone really went to.  We put ourselves in their hands and we
were definitely inappropriately touched.

John emerged from bed in the tightie-whitey dad style underwear
that he always wore.  Not unflattering since he kept himself fit,
but hardly in the same league as Dan's black man panties.   He
had no pajamas of any kind with him naughty or otherwise. While I
had some nice panties and bras with me, I hadn't packed my
lingerie as I had dreaded the idea of some tin-badged immigration
cop going through my luggage on my trip in and out of the
country.  Standing next to Liz I looked like a church lady, even
though I was wearing silk red panties.  We pointed out our lack
of wardrobe and the couple grabbed our key and our hands and
dragged us across to their room in our undies.

Liz told Dan to see if he had any solution for John, and grabbed
some silky things and dragged me into the bathroom.  While I was
being stripped down and refitted into a very low cut baby blue
spaghetti strapped silk top and matching tap pants, I heard John
and Dan ruffle around through the laundry and discuss and dismiss
various clothing items I couldn't see.

I thought I looked pretty stunning in my newly acquired night
clothing, but Liz pronounced it boring.  She jerked down my pants
then her own and we quickly exchanged bottoms.

That her top matched my bottoms and vice-versa was an inspiration
to be sure.  The effect was that of two lovely lesbians being a
bit careless after an amorous evening together.  She handed me a
tube of obscenely pink lipstick and had me put it on, and
freshened up her similarly loud red painted lips with a triple
thick coat, then quickly bent down and kissed me heavily once on
my breast and again on my tummy, leaving a heavy lipstick marking
in both places.

I won't lie.  It sent a bit of a shiver down my back.

"Now you" she said.

I looked at her thin veil of a top and it was obvious that
lipstick would never stick to the thin lacey material, and
quickly pulled it up over my head and put a few similar lipstick
stains on one of her large breasts, then opened my mouth and
created a big "O" impression around a silver dollar sized nipple.


For once I think I surprised her, because she grabbed my head in
surprise and pushed it down and away from her chest.  I was into
the spirit of this, and actually nipped her nipple as I was
pushed out of here bosom.  Just to really mess with her head, I
also bent down and kissed her once more just north of her panty
line before I backed away laughing.

We looked stunning, and Liz pronounced us both suitably naughty.
Exiting the bathroom, John still had no clear alternative, though
he had managed to fit on a tee shirt of Dan's that had the word
"fuck" printed in a number of languages.  Given that we were
without patience, both Liz and I simply dropped to our knees and
put lipstick stains on the front of John's undies.  Once we have
a dozen or so impressions, Liz leaned over and put one squarely
on the rear check of Dan's black underwear as well.

I was having a great time playing dress-up - especially
considering just an hour before I had been sound asleep and had
been just a bit grumpy when the pair had invaded our hotel room.
I looked at my husband and saw a look on his face somewhere
between amusement and panic.  It reminded me that I had lived a
pretty wild life in my past, but my husband had a much more
conservative upbringing and life experience.  Part of me vowed to
make sure I kept his unease in check so that he had a good time
and didn't freak out.  Another part of me said that this was
probably good for him and that he needed to lighten up a bit. 
(In the end, it wouldn't matter. I had very little control of the
evening - or pretty much the rest of the trip - and we were both
swept away with the debauchery of things.)

John went across to our room and put on a pair of slippers that
he took with him everywhere - and for some reason I could tell
that this touch of home made him somehow more comfortable with
all of this. Dan slipped on his flip-flops and for Liz and me it
was a pair of pumps each. Then we were off to the party.

How to describe the part atmosphere that evening?  It's
practically impossible so much went on, and after a while I was
so drunk I'm not sure I remember some of the bits and pieces
through the fog of tequila shots.

What I do remember is that when we got to the bar holding the
event, there were bouncers outside inspecting everyone and
turning away those that hadn't dressed for the occasion.  (I was
actually surprised by this.  Hedonism was an all-inclusive, but
you have to earn your way into this party.)

We were dressed more provocatively than most, but for good
measure when it was our turn for inspection Liz and I spun around
and gave them the full view of our meager costumes, each taking
the time to show both front and rear view while our husbands
stood by in amusement.  There were good natured whistles and cat
calls of approval from others waiting in line behind us, a smile
of admiration from the rather large black men that were
inspecting our merchandise, and we were waved inside.

The bar itself was like something from a movie.  Filled with
noise, flashing lights and moving bodies it was practically
impossible to focus on any one person or thing for a while.  It
was the first time I had ever seen real lasers on a dance floor
(I was from Iowa after all) and they bounced off mirrors, liquor
bottles and anything else.  We were quickly doing the same as the
bodies of those around us started moving to a new song, and we
were quickly sucked into the throng of dancing revelers.

John has always been more of a voyeur than a joiner in such
things, and quickly made his way toward the bar.  He took a long
look at the throng of half-naked bodies and pronounced his need
for a drink. We were all soon shooting cheap tequila.

A heavy glass window behind the bar looked out into the pool. 
The other side of the window was actually underwater in the pool,
and you could see swimmers like something from an Aquarium.  On
frequent occasions swimmers male and female flocked to the window
and dropped their suit bottoms to moon the party crowd or worse.
One woman spread herself so far open and pushed her genitalia to
the glass with such force that someone joked she might get stuck
like a suction cup.  The bartender - an older black man who
looked like Morgan Freedman left too long in the sun - sighed and
lamented that he wished he had got paid for all gynecologist work
he was subjected to.

We watched the crowd for a while, which was educational.  We saw
a lot of faces that we hadn't seen that day on the beach.  This
included what looked to be a whole house of sorority sisters in
Victoria Secrets store-bought lingerie and an accompanying herd
of unaccompanied males that the barkeeps referred to collectively
as "Vinnies."  We had no idea that they let college kids into
Hedo - and when we asked later we were told that the management
rather discouraged it, but there was no strict policy and on
occasion a busload arrived at their gates.  The crowd ranged from
young 20's to a few who might have been in their 60's, and
everyone was having a good time.

It was not a surprise when one couple began to have actual sex in
a corner of the dance floor. (She was wearing no underwear under
a short nightgown and it was just that kind of a crowd.)  What
was a surprise was how fast bouncers surrounded them and removed
them from the party.  They were back a short time later, but you
could tell they had been warned that there were some lines you
didn't cross in the bar area.  When a later incident happened,
that couple was tossed out and we never saw them again that
evening.

The "no sex" rule didn't stop hands from diving into panties and
underwear or breasts from falling out or simply being freed from
tight bras or loose night gowns.  Couples who had been given
their little wristbands left in pairs and came back minutes or
hours later, looking either freshly fucked or fucked up.  One
middle aged woman disappeared three times over the course of the
evening with three different Vinnies.

Our little group danced and drank and played grab ass a lot, and
we drew appreciative glances from onlookers.  Our lipstick stains
were in a color that glowed under the prevalent black lights, and
our mix and match panties and top look brought chuckles and
leers.  John has never been much of a fast dancer person (he is
good with the slow stuff) and Dan wasn't enthusiastic either, so
Liz and I danced together.

The panties I was wearing -the ones that looked so positively
see-thru und obscene on Liz, were no less revealing on me - and
my blonde pubic hair tended to catch the black-light and glow. 
Also glowing was the lipstick "o" that I had placed on Liz's
nipple and both of our lips matched glowing lipstick stains on
the others body.  We must have looked like a lesbian couple fresh
from the fuck of the century.

One of the sorority sisters  - one who was noticeably less
provocatively dressed than the others and who looked a good 3
years younger - wondered up to us and started dancing beside us.
We were all about having fun with others so she became part of
our little dance team.  As she started being more bold in her
dancing Liz and I played along and when a slow song came we
actually made a three way slow dance group.  When the decibels of
music were momentarily low enough, she shouted about how pretty
we were, introduced herself and ask what we were doing later.  
The music got louder again before we could respond.

We were all drinking heavily so eventually I made a trip to the
bathroom which was, I was actually glad to see, NOT being used by
multiple couples as a makeshift hookup operation.  When I
returned Liz and the sorority girl has been joined by Dan and
John who were all on the dance floor in a big knot with 8 ounce
glasses of pure tequila and a 12 ounce glasses of orange juice.
We made "mix in your mouth" drinks as we danced the night away,
laughing like fools and living like there was no tomorrow.

Eventually, it became obvious my husband was wasted. He was
falling off his barstool, so Dan and Liz helped me carry him back
to the room.

John was a mess - worse than I had ever seen him - so we took him
to the room and deposited him in bed.  He was passed out before
he hit the mattress. I took a minute to remove Dan's shirt from
his drunken frame before tucking him in for the night.

We played a few games with John, taking a few pictures of him in
such a sorry state. We got a great shot of him sleeping with a
rack on either ear, and another with Liz's hairless twat just
inches off his hairline.  But I didn't know how much John would
enjoy that kind of shenanigans so we didn't go far.

I finally drew the line that we should let him sleep, so Dan
asked if I'd like to come over to their room for a goodnight
joint.  An end-of-evening smoke to take the edge off sounded
good, so I grabbed a key, left a note and followed them out the
door.

Once we were safely in their room, Dan went to work rolling up a
joint and Liz and I retired to the bathroom to wash away some of
the accumulated sweat.  I gave her Dan's shirt, and then realized
everything I was wearing belonged to them as well.  I figured
what the hell and took it all off and handed it back lest I
forget later.  I looked around for my tee and panties that I'd
worn over to their room but had no idea where they were.

Liz left her lingerie on, just kicking off the heels and we left
the bathroom to find that Dan had found a friend in our absence.
To this day I don't know which of the two did it, but our little
sorority girl had their room number and had found her way to
their room.  She was sitting on the bed next to Dan preparing to
spark up.

The sorority girl - her name was Karen - did a double take when I
entered the room naked.  I was amused to find that Dan had also
dropped everything as well, so we were 50% naked and 50% lingerie
as a group.  Karen was having trouble figuring out where to focus
her eyes.

As for my own eyes, I was actually getting my first good look at
Karen outside the bar.  Small of frame and almost boyish in
build, she looked rather awkward in a baby doll nightgown that
would have looked at home on a 4 year old.  It was not the least
bit sexy and my guess was that had she not been with the group of
sorority sisters she would have been denied entry to the bar.  
It was only when she stood in the light that the threadbare
quality of her nightie became apparent along with the rip - which
looked accidental - that made it clear there were either no
underwear underneath that made the clothing provocative at all.

We had all been drinking and we were all naked or nearly, and
adding a layer of pot on top seemed to simultaneously mellow us
out and kick us into another gear at the same time.  I made a
place for myself on a chair while the three of them sat back on
the bed using the backboard as a backrest, Dan in the center with
a girl on either side.

There was discussion of going into the hot tub, but it was close
to 4 in the morning and while that shouldn't have been a factor,
it tabled the plan.  We talked about calling it a night, but
neither Karen nor I stood up to leave, both of us in a bit of a
daze and slumped into our position.

I don't know what was happening when I realized that Liz had Dan
in her hand and was playing with his cock and that Dan had his
arm around Karen and was feeling her small breast through the
soft flannel material, but as Dan became erect it quickly became
obvious where this evening was heading.

At some point, Karen actually lowered herself down and took Dan
in her mouth - a surprise since I'd have bet my money that her
attraction was either Liz or I (or both.)   While the two of them
moved to a more comfortable position I found myself a bit freaked
and almost unconsciously quietly stood up to leave.  Liz followed
me to the door and walked behind me reaching around me to hold me
from behind in a kind of hug.  She asked me not to leave and with
a kiss on the back of my neck let me know that perhaps pairing
off was the plan
rather than a Dan sandwich.

I wanted to leave and I didn't.  I didn't want to seem like a
prude, didn't feel comfortable playing voyeur, but wasn't sure I
was ready for the grande finale Liz had planned.  She spun me
around and the next kiss she planted was on the lips, and we held
it for longer than I had planned.  When I opened my eyes I saw
that both Dan and Karen were watching from the bed - she having
moved from sucking his cock to sitting on it during the small
time that Liz and I had been indisposed.

It was an amazing image that one. One I can still remember
vividly to this day. Karen was small and Dan was big - and I
could plainly see her open sex impaled on him as perhaps 3 inches
of him still was not inside her although she appeared to be on
him with her full weight.  Liz began to pull me to the bed, which
again brought up the idea that this might be all about Dan which
I didn't think John would appreciate at all.

I pulled myself away, telling them that I was just too tired
though my voice probably said I was too scared.  In truth I
feared John's reaction more than anything else.

I left the condo and made my way naked across the manicured lawn
to my own.  Crawling in bed with my thoroughly passed out husband
I felt confused and intoxicated.  For the first time in a long
time I masturbated out of frustration rather than for recreation
and fell asleep sometime that couldn't have been much before
dawn.

We woke up around noon.  John first, making his way to the
bathroom where the sound alone told me that his stomach was
having a bad morning.  He made his way back to bed looking green
and in misery.

Though I didn't throw up, I didn't feel much better.  We were
both hung over and badly dehydrated.

John was just in horrible pain, but wouldn't take any aspirin as
he feared the water from the taps. We'd drank every liquid in the
room the night before, so I slipped on some shorts and tee and
made my way to the small stand that was near our room and across
from the nude beach. I got bottled water and some crackers,
scanning the beach to see if Dan and Liz were there, though
neither was to be found.

When I came back, there was an envelope stuck in the door jam
with a note inside from the couple.  They explained that they had
enjoyed our company, hoped we had survived the evening, and
apologized but really had never been much for long goodbyes.

I noticed that there was no address, phone number, email address
or any other invitation to contact them later, and I took it
personally for a bit as I believed my actions the night before
had insulted them. Through the perspective of time, though, I've
realized they just probably wanted to let what happened in
Jamaica stay there.