Jamaica Pool Bar Pickup
To celebrate our 20th anniversary, we booked an adults only, clothing optional resort in Jamaica for two weeks. We farmed out the kids to my brother’s home; actually the kids were delighted to be away from us for a bit. Besides, my brother was a soft touch and they knew it.
It was July and hot in Jamaica but we wanted the sun, the beach and the warmth. We also thought that the extra warmth would be good if we dabbled into the realm of the topless or the completely naked. The resort was pretty much divided between the C.O. section (one pool and one beach area was C.O.). No cameras or overt gawking was allowed although the women were doing almost as much eyeballing as the men. Those new to such as resort were easy to spot as were we. We were nervous, didn’t smile much and conversations with nude participants were strained at first. Newbies always had a large towel nearby – just in case. But, as with any new environment, we adapted and by the third day out, were pretty comfortable – up to topless. My lovely wife still kept both her top and bottom on and I got the vibes that I should keep covered as well. Actually my wife is still bordering on being a spectacular beauty – maybe 10lb. over her bride’s dress weight, still trim and fit. Her shapely C cup breasts don’t sag and still invite my hands to cup them and caress them whenever I can. Her nipples are almost cherry red. I keep in shape, ride a bike regularly and do weights once in a while but I am no Hollywood type. I’m also not on anyone’s short list to try out to be a porn star – Mr. Above Average is all I can display. Maybe 20 years ago that might have mattered but my cock works great, my wife loves it and how it makes her feel and I am fertile; what more can a man ask for?
After we got settled, we sort of got into a routine that was comfortable for us. My wife wanted to enjoy the beach with a good book and some occasional light rum drinks. I would either go to the gym and join her on the beach for an early lunch or I would go out on a scuba dive (preferably a 2 tank dive where you went on a deeper dive first (their limit was 60 ft.) and then a shallow dive for the second dive. I had dived a lot in my younger days in the Marshall Islands and had plenty of photos and had scooped up lots of shells which I mostly gave away. I chose to not bother with a camera and didn’t bother to pick up any shells or pieces of coral. The diving conditions in Jamaica are mostly good but the dive environment is not nearly as good as some locales in the South Pacific. But, diving is still diving. As I heard years ago there are three great thrills a man ought to enjoy before the grave: scuba diving, flying an airplane and…you all know the third one. Luckily, I had a lot of experience with all three and still loved to do them.
The days I went diving, I went out right after breakfast and didn’t get back until early/mid-afternoon. Lunch was included. When I got back I showered up and if my sweetie wasn’t in our suite, I usually took a nap. I wanted to be fresh and energetic should the night life or the big tub for two on our private balcony call to us. Watching a sundown embracing your sweetie in a warm tub is exhilarating.
One day, instead of diving, I played a round of golf. It was slow and a bit tiring. I took a nap after a shower cooled down my almost 5 hours in the sun. I was pretty confident that we had a nice vacation routine and rhythm that suited both of our wants and needs on this anniversary trip. But that assumption wasn’t quite correct.
On Monday the second week, I did a 2 tank dive, cleaned up and opted for a 90 minute nap. I was just asleep when I got a call from customer service to call my wife. The call startled me and I called thinking about all sorts of bad things. I called her cell and she informed me that she was down at the “other” pool (the one they play volleyball in without clothes on) at the bar. She also told me that all she had on was her big sun hat and her bikini bottom and that she was having trouble fending off some very friendly overtures. She definitely got my attention. I smiled as I decided to play along with her loose girlfriend scenario. I put on my hat, grabbed a beach towel and put on my sneakers and headed towards the other pool. When I arrived I noticed she had some company on both sides as she sat next to the bar. I casually walked up to the bartender and got a pina colada and only then did I turn towards her. I admit she looked stunning topless; certainly the men on either side agreed. With my towel around my waist I walked up and introduced myself using a fake name and mentioned that I hadn’t see her around because if I had I certainly would have remembered her. (OK, corny, but I hadn’t tried a pickup line in more than 20 years.) She thanked me for the compliment and noted she hadn’t seen me around either. “Was I with someone?” she asked. I told her that yes, I was – but she camped out in a beach chair all day reading trashy novels. With the men looking on (and trying to interrupt) I invited her to sit at a table with me – we could get another drink. Feigning reluctance she obliged me and we found a small table a good ways from the bar. I think both guys were surprised she accepted my offer. After another round of drinks (still in play-acting mode) she asked me if there were some things here I hadn’t tried yet. Naked volleyball I ventured – do you want to try it?
So we did. We managed to end up on the same team due to another couple’s exiting the game. This gave us both ample opportunities to splash each other, grope and feel each other and accidentally fall down in the water together. I think that was part of the rules of nude volleyball. After 45 minutes playing bad volleyball and baking in the afternoon sun, we got out and toweled each other off. We opted for one more acting job. As we slowly walked by the guys still at the bar hoping for better luck, we asked each other in loud stage whispers the question, “Do you want to fuck in your room or mine?”
We were on cloud nine as we got to our suite. We took the opportunity to apply moisturizing cream all over each other and then we got to the serious fucking part. She wanted me to do everything: finger her, lick and suck her vulva and all of its treasures, caress her ass, knead her breasts, pinch and suck her nipples and make her mouth mine. She gave as generously and passionately as I gave to her: she sucked and licked my cock, fondled my balls, tried to get all of me inside her mouth and throat and stroked me generating more wondrous feelings than I could give myself. We literally took full possession of each other’s bodies and danced through a wonderful choreograph which included two orgasms each. I had done everything I could to make her cunt mine; likewise she’d taken full ownership of my cock. We wanted to stay joined.
Alas, it was past 8 pm and we were starving. We opted for the Italian themed café and enjoyed hearty Italian dishes washed down with a bottle of excellent Chianti. After we shared a tiramisu, we slowly walked back to our love nest. After our balcony conversation under the now dark western sky our undeclared decision was to ‘try that again’. The build-up was slower; she needed more soft and tender caresses of her breasts, nipples and pussy. I needed and enjoyed her slowly stroking me back to where I wanted and needed to be. I spent some extra time with oral ministrations on her lovely genitalia. Her raspberry colored clit was responding nicely and she was getting wet. Finally she said she had one more request from her bar pickup guy: she wanted me to pound her as fast and as furious as I could. (I’m guessing it’s a deep down primal need for both men and women that isn’t met very often per the genteel, equal partners theory of fucking. YMMV. But, as I found out that night, my wife needs exactly that once in a while and so do I.) So that’s what we did: I pounded her deep, fast and hard. Her vagina squeezed my cock even as I tried to split her cunt with my thrusts. She responded to my thrusts by moving her hips into me insuring I could be as deep as possible. After ?? minutes, I told her I was almost… She insisted, “Give me all you’ve got!” And I did.
I rolled over and noticed that both of us were still breathing hard. We locked eyes and hers thanked me for a great fuck; my eyes echoed the sentiment. A week before we went to Jamaica neither the public nudity adventures nor the all-out ‘power fuck’ would have been on our radar. Now it’s part of who we are. Wow, is this woman a treasure beyond belief. She’s set a high bar for me for the next 30 years – at least.