Ixchel, Chapter 3

Info adamgunn
17 Sep. '20

Chapter 3

Cheryl woke as her body demanded - or didn’t demand - late by Dayton standards, early by those expected on a vacation. She felt no need to get up and so she lazed. Her thoughts, of course, went to her expeditions of the previous day, the pleasant smile and girth of Wes, the flop that was Ted. She didn’t regret her decision with the ineffective late night encounter, she was realistic that some men simply aren’t competent. And the realization she’d had, for the first time in her life, two different men in the space of a day pleased her. But Wes! Oh, she’d give a shiny quarter if he’d knock on her door now to wake her properly.

She reached into the drawer beside the bed, grabbed a toy. Her hands stroked the tender skin below her navel, a finger inserted itself into the canal, already moist with her thoughts, and then she buried the dildo deeply. With one hand she set up a languid motion of the plastic, with the other she brought the clitoris to attention. And her imagination was filled with visions of a man, perhaps Wes, perhaps another, kissing her, feeling her body, inserting himself. And then the fantasy morphed, it was the petite blond Alexis who was kissing her, feeling her, and Cheryl suddenly desired to know what a woman felt like, tasted like. It wasn’t a new illusion, she’d had a slight desire for such a struggle for decades, but of course she’d never sought it out, an opportunity had never asserted itself. And then the shuddering shocked her, she let her mind go blank as she trembled in the felicity. She could have gone on, but after a few moments she put her joy aside, realizing if she roused herself other experiences might be proffered, and she was anxious to meet them.

She lingered in the shower, enjoying the suds on her skin, took time to ensure her face was impeccable, her hair well coiffed. And she considered her clothing options. She decided to make herself ready for water sports, donned a bikini, a mesh coverup, sandals, and after checking a last time in the mirror and adjusting one or two imagined flaws, headed for breakfast.

As she stood in the buffet line she noticed a number of men glancing at her, then look again, and she felt happy she was attracting attention. One gentleman peeped at her time and again and she tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t return her stare. His loss! As she sat to consume her fruits, a solitary egg, she thought the men seemed interested, some of the women a bit hostile. She headed for the pool, the sun just past half high, and Cheryl found a lounge chair in the shade, began to slather herself with SPF-30. Not five minutes had passed when she heard her voice being called.

"Well, good morning you two," she replied to Pat and Wes, who seemed to be hurrying on a mission. Wes wore baggy swim trunks, Pat had side tie bikini bottoms, her bare breasts swung as she walked. "What are you up to?"

"We’re going sailing," Wes explained, "there’s a marvelous reef a little outside the bay, we’ll snorkel there."

"Is it safe?" Cheryl wondered.

"Wes is an old sailor," Pat said, "We’ve never had a problem. Would you like to come with us?"

Cheryl had no reason to say no, the couple seemed genuine in their invitation. She followed them to the water sports area, let them help her choose a snorkel and fins and after the catamaran was launched she reclined beside Pat as Wes took charge. To starboard, a sand spit slipped by. "That’s Passionné Island, isn’t it?"

"Yes, you haven’t been there yet?"

"It’s only my second day," she reminded the couple. Cheryl recalled the tales she’d read on-line of the debaucheries that supposedly occurred there. At this hour of the morning, only one couple walked the beach of the atoll, both free of any clothing. After broaching the headland, the water became choppy, Cheryl slipped on the deck. Pat caught at her, although it wasn’t necessary, there was no chance Cheryl would have fallen off the craft. Still, there was a bit of a moment when Pat’s arm crossed Cheryl’s belly.

Just a few minutes later a very small cove was entered, just a meager beach, Wes ran the boat up on to it, tied a rope to a palm tree to ensure it wouldn’t drift off.

“Have you snorkeled before?” Pat asked.

“It’s been awhile.”

“We’ll keep together.” They slipped on face masks and fins, Cheryl took a few moments to familiarize herself with the breathing tube, paddled out until she was in waist deep water, put her face down. The techniques came back to her, in no time at all she was in eight foot of water, Wes on one side, Pat on the other. 

Below them was sand, a bit off was a small reef, dozens of fish swam below them. Orange, green, purple, yellow, blue. Wes dived, stirring them into a ruckus, it was fun. Pat seemed to be paying more attention to Cheryl than was especially necessary. She’d find a hand on her leg or arm, it was pleasant, knowing Pat was concerned. 

Cheryl momentarily gazed at Pat’s ample breasts fluttering in the water, appreciated how charming they were. ‘Why am I still wearing this stupid bikini top?’ she wondered. Wes pointed to a shadow thirty feet away, Pat saw a five foot long denizen, she was certain it was some kind of shark, became a little worried. But Pat and Wes weren’t concerned, simply swam in another direction.

After half an hour Cheryl realized she was beginning to tire, motioned to the pair she was heading for the shore. Pat followed her, Wes seemed to want more exercise. When they got to the sand they spread towels in the shade of palm trees. “Oh, those fish are beautiful,” Cheryl gushed.

“Aren’t they? We just love coming out here. We’ve never seen anyone else.” Pat reached over, cordially brushed a strand of wet hair from Cheryl’s face. “Speaking of beautiful, you know you are, aren’t you?” Cheryl suddenly blushed, a bit abashed by the compliment. “I really see now why Wes was so attracted to you yesterday.”

Cheryl turned on her side, facing the other woman. “You really don’t mind I slept with him, do you?”

“I’ve learned not to be jealous. When we first got into this, I had some hard times, watching him with other women. Of course at the same time, I was letting other men have at me; that never seemed to bother Wes. Eventually, I got over it.”

“But you two split off from each other? Like yesterday?”

“Not much. When we’re at home in Chicago, we’re pretty much together at our club or house parties. Oh, I’ve had a couple of boyfriends now and again where I’d go over to their house alone, just once Wes was invited to be the third in a threesome when I was visiting my family. But when we come down here we really relax our rules. Something about the water, I think.” As Pat was explaining their customs, she stroked Cheryl’s face. 

When Pat leaned forward for a kiss, Cheryl was tremendously surprised and expecting it at the same time. It took a couple of moments to relax, but she did, opening her mouth to the other woman, tasting something, probably the remnants of lipstick. The kiss lasted for, perhaps, forty seconds, long enough for Cheryl to understand Pat was interested in her. When they broke, Cheryl was both stimulated and distraught at the same time. They laid side by side, not talking, not touching, yet Cheryl was certainly imagining. 

Wes emerged from the water, laid his towel on Pat’s side, the beauty of the day and the water and the fish was discussed. What wasn’t debated was the beauty of the three bodies lazing on the beach. 

The sail back was quicker, they were going with the wind, after docking Pat invited, “Come to lunch with us.”

“All right.”

“I need to go back to the room, get a coverup.” The threesome walked the pathway to the couple’s room. It was larger than Cheryl’s, on the second floor with a patio and a wonderful view of the surf. Wes invited Cheryl to sit, Pat rummaged around the open closet, Wes entered the toilet.

Pat brought over a silk caftan, rectangle patterned, faintly aztecan. “You’d look wonderful in this,” Pat suggested, “try it on.” Cheryl stood, Pat slipped the fabric over her shoulders, standing in back of her. Cheryl admired herself in the mirror. “Oh, your bra is disturbing the lines, let me help you.” Pat’s hands slipped to her back, the snap was undone, the swimming garment fell to the floor.

Again they looked at Cheryl’s figure in the mirror, Pat’s face rose above her shoulder. It was A Moment, Cheryl understood, and when Pat turned her face, Cheryl accepted it. 

Cheryl’s second serious kiss with a member of the same sex was not much different from that of a man, and yet it was completely extraordinary. Pat’s lips were soft, Cheryl yielded to the prelude. They turned towards each other, Pat’s breasts against her own felt so strange, not like a man’s chest at all. “You can say ‘no’ if you want to,” Pat whispered and Cheryl retorted, “Yes.”

Over the next few minutes they approached, sat on, then laid on the massive bed. When Wes joined them Pat ordered, “Give us some time, honey.”

“Sure. I’ll get some sandwiches from the restaurant.”

“Make mine a salad.” “Me, too.”

When they were left alone, Pat resumed her advance. The caftan was disposed of, they continued to kiss, their teats bumped, so pleasant to Cheryl’s brain. Pat’s sucks felt the same, again, as most men, yet she seemed better attuned to Cheryl’s internal rhythms. And when Pat began to draw the bikini bottoms off Cheryl, the woman raised her hips, anticipating the action, giving her silent concurrence. 

When she was naked Cheryl waited for the next movement, wasn’t kept in suspense for long. Pat’s hand traveled to the nether area as they kissed, two fingers found the clit, with a sweeping motion Pat engaged her new partner. 

Cheryl was too intellectually involved with what was happening to become enflamed, yet it was so pleasant, so strange. She allowed her hand to grasp at Pat’s breast, tickle the nipple. How soft it was, in fact the whole body was more cushioned. She liked it. 

Cheryl felt Pat strip herself of the bottoms, now the two girls were naked with each other. Pat fell on top of her, they kissed, rubbing the bodies together, Cheryl felt Pat’s thigh press between her legs, rub her delicate area. And Pat slowly descended on Cheryl’s body, her lips kissed and sucked at the nipples, the belly and navel were worshiped, and soon the tongue was inflaming her most intimate dollop.

Again, the feeling of a woman’s tongue on her labia, inside her tunnel and on her clit wasn’t totally disparate from a man’s, yet the variety of the experience was odd. Cheryl tried to relax, accept the exploit, but her brain, washed by the lessons of childhood, had difficulties simply accepting the situation. She was close to coming, she was excited, yet somehow she knew the ultimate release wasn’t going to happen.

It was in this state that Wes found them when he returned. He put a tray of food on the table, asked, “Should I leave again?”

“What do you think?” Pat asked Cheryl, so softly Wes couldn’t hear.

“Could he join us?”

“Oh, he’s going to be such a happy camper!” And then, more loudly, to her husband, “Take off your swim trunks.”

In a moment, Cheryl was sandwiched between two attractive beings, Pat on her right, Wes on her left. Together they incited their playmate, four hands and two lips plying at all her sensitive areas. 

For a moment, Cheryl felt a little guilty. “Do you want me to . . .”

“Shush,” Pat responded, “It’s your party, just relax.”

Soon, Wes presented his scepter to Cheryl’s lips, she sucked on it, at the same time she noticed Pat’s palm holding his testicles.

And then, Wes was below her, on his side, with his finger he spread her labia, Cheryl raised her legs, felt the tip of his penis at her opening, once again this stupendous organ was pleasuring her.

It went on for quite awhile, Wes was slow, gentle. And while he screwed her, Pat was helping both of them with kisses, sucks, nibbles and caresses. And then, while Wes was trying some intricate movement, Pat let her finger slip to Cheryl’s clit, Cheryl felt safe enough, somehow, to let herself go. As the ochre and garnet flashes ravaged her mind, Wes once again pushed deeply inside her, gifted her with his seed.

That certainly was the climax of the lovemaking between the three lovers, but not the end. They spent another ten minutes cooling down, Cheryl appreciated it when Pat bathed her sloppiness with a warm, wet cloth. “Don’t worry about it,” she laughed, “I have to clean up after him all the time.”

Wes brought the tray to the bed, on the side tables he arranged various drinks, Cheryl selected a Bahama Mama. Her brain screamed this was illicit, sitting naked with not one but two people who’d recently been her sexual companions, but she resisted the impetus to clothe, in a little while it seemed only natural.

“Was this your first time with another woman?” Pat asked.

“Was it so obvious?”

“No, it was fine. You just seemed nervous. Did you like it?”

“Oh . . . a lot. You were great. I’m sorry . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. Who knows what would have happened if this big galoot hadn’t interrupted us?”

“You told me to be gone for only a little while,” Wes laughed. “If I’d known you two needed the whole afternoon . . .”

Again, Cheryl’s brain heckled her. This married couple was joking about extramarital sex, it didn’t seem to phase them. What would of happened to her marriage if her own husband had been her partner, not a sexual enemy? 

“Not only that,” she sighed, with a little embarrassment in her voice, “it’s the first time I was ever in bed with two people at once. Thank you! It was one of the things I was thinking about when I decided to come down here.”

“You’ve never been in bed with two guys?” Wes exclaimed.

“Nope. A totally new experience.”

“Well, we’ve got to help you with that.”

Pat giggled, “Cheryl doesn’t need any help, she’s a natural.”