My Life with a Muscular Cheerleader

I must have had a surprised look on my face because she said with a smile, "It's one of the advantages of being bald; it takes me only a couple of minutes to do my hair. Ready?"

We each took a bag and headed out the door. Our next adventure awaited: a glorious seven days on the Caribbean island of Aruba.

Chapter 8

We landed at 2:30 in the afternoon, after an uneventful five-hour flight. We caught a cab and headed towards our destination, the Bucuti Resort. Our travel agent had recommended this particular resort. She had told us that it was Dutch--owned, relatively small with only sixty-eight rooms, did not have a lot of activities for children -- and therefore the clientele was restricted to mostly returning couples and young newlyweds -- and best of all, sat on the widest, most picturesque and private stretch of white sand in the Caribbean.

When we checked in we discovered that our agent had informed the staff that we were on our honeymoon. Our host poured us a glass of champagne and brought out a small platter of cheese and fruit. The check-in process was a totally enjoyable affair. We were handed our key, informed that our bags had already been brought up to our room, and were given directions to the elevator and the staircase. Our room, she said, was on the third floor and noting that we were both young and physically fit told us that it would be a lot faster if we took the stairs.

Upon entering our corner room, we were pleasantly surprised to see that it was large, bright and airy. It had a large king-sized bed and best of all a private balcony with a spectacular unobstructed view of the beach and the blue sea beyond.

As quickly as possible we changed into our bathing suits. Mine was a surfer suit that came down to my knees; Patti's was a skimpy two-piece, which if worn at her father's country-club pool would have been called obscene. I had no problem with it; it showcased her muscular body while still maintaining some sense of modesty.

"We'd better put on sunscreen," I said, "especially you with your fair Irish complexion. With Italian heritage, my olive skin will fare a lot better than yours; we don't want to burn the first day we're here."

After applying generous amounts of sunscreen, Patti and I ventured out onto the beach. There were about fifty large grass-thatched umbrellas scattered randomly on the wide sun lit beach. We could tell that many of them were occupied with lounge chairs covered with towels. Others appeared to have been vacated by sun worshipers who had already called it a day. I stopped at the beach hut and grabbed two clean towels out of a rack next to the hut while Patti found us a spot, off to one side on the far edge of the beach.

"This is just perfect," she exclaimed, "the hot sun, the cool shade, a refreshing breeze off of the sea, and our own piece of the beach."

She pulled her chair out into the sun and lay back with a sigh and pulled her baseball cap down until the brim just covered her eyes.

"Bill, please give me about a half an hour and then tell me to turn over. I think that's about all I can take on the first day."

I checked my watch and, at the appointed time, told her to turn. I gave her another half an hour and then warned her to get back in the shade. Reluctantly, she complied.

"Let's go for a walk on the beach."I said.

Donning her beach cover-up, and me an old football jersey, we headed down to the water's edge and turned our backs were to the sun and walked hand-in-hand along the beach. We passed several large hotels; their beaches were packed with brightly colored umbrellas and kids running back and forth between the sea and the beach. Looking at each other we acknowledged the wisdom of our travel agent. We continued up the coast for about a half an hour. The beach narrowed dramatically; no buildings, just a strip of short trees and tall bushes. From our vantage point we could see the main road just behind the trees.

"Maybe we'd better turn around," I said noting the time that we had already walked. "It's going to take us about forty minutes to get back."

When we got back to the Bucuti Hotel's beach, we saw a group of people standing at the shoreline looking at something on the beach. We approached and stood with the others as we watched an environmental ranger gingerly removing what appeared to be large eggs from a dune of sand that was being eroded by the incoming tide.

"These are turtle eggs," he explained. "It seems that mama got confused when she laid these and made her nest much too close to the sea. I'm going to transfer these eggs to a spot further from the water. See where we have the beach roped off? There are several other nests and these eggs will be placed there; they'll never know the difference. The sea turtle is an endangered species and we have to do all we can to give as many of these turtles a chance to survive as possible."

As he was talking, two teenagers, probably no older than sixteen, walked up and stood on the other side of the group. Normally, I wouldn't have given them a second look, especially with my wife standing right behind me. She must have seen me do a double take. There before me was not one, but two sets of bare teenaged breasts. They were deeply tanned, as was the rest of their bodies. I really tried to concentrate on what the ranger was saying but my eyes kept drifting back to their breasts, the sight of which was having a profound effect on my body. Suddenly, I felt the powerful hands of my wife grip my shoulders as she whispered in my ear.

"They're cute, aren't they? It's okay, you can look. But don't touch, and try not to stare."

Feeling like I had already broken my vows, I turned and shamefully headed back to our beach chairs.

When Patti finally caught up to me I could tell by the amused look on her face that she really wasn't mad at me.

"Patti I'm so sorry; they just caught me by surprise. I never expected to see people topless, in public walking on the beach. It won't happen again, I promise."

She smiled and gave me a kiss and a big hug, before replying.

"It's okay, I understand. I know that until we made love that first time that you had never seen a pair of tits before. I understand how they affect you. I think it's sweet that you feel the way you do but don't worry; I won't hold you to a promise that I know you won't be able to keep. I didn't think you heard our travel agent telling us that this island was part of the Dutch West Indies and as such had a definite European atmosphere and that included the European views on topless bathing. We in America can be such prudes when it comes to being topless. You men are hard wired to believe that as soon as you see a pair of tits that it's time for sex. Just remember what I said, you can look but don't touch. If I catch you touching you'll make me very angry; and the last thing you want to do is make me angry at you."

To put an emphasis on her last statement, she began to squeeze me harder than ever before. Soon I was aware that I was rapidly running out of air, her arms not allowing my chest to expand. Just before I began to panic, I felt her loosen her hold on me just enough to allow me to breathe and still keep me from toppling over. Patti looked me straight in the eye and a silent but important lesson had been taught.

"Come on; I think we've had enough excitement for one day. Let's go up to the room and get ready for diner."

We walked arm in arm back to our room, showered and unpacked our bags. Evenings, especially during the hot summer season, are casual; we dressed in jeans. Patti wore a short sleeve blouse and I a collared golf shirt. Armed with a list of places we should try supplied by our trusty travel agent, we went to the concierge and asked her to make reservations for the rest of the week. She pointed to one of the choices where we wouldn't need reservations for tonight and, after agreeing to make the rest of our reservations for the week, called us a cab. It was a flat ten-dollar cab ride to practically every restaurant on the island. Only the restaurant at the lighthouse on the far tip of the island, and a trip into the downtown area, would be five dollars more.

We ate in a restaurant near the high rise American hotels on the next group of beaches. It was a stand-alone restaurant, called the Swiss Chalet and as the name suggested served food with a definite Swiss flare. We had a fine meal and several tall cool mugs of German beer. After diner we walked about a mile down the road, and browsed around the shops in and near the hotels. At one point during the evening Patti asked me to wait outside one of the shops, while she went inside and did a little shopping. When she returned she had a package, but refused to show me what she bought.

"It's a surprise, I'll show you when the time is right."

Thinking that she had bought herself another bathing suit, I told her I could hardly wait.

Agreeing that it had been a long day, we decided to return to our room, and caught a cab back to our hotel.

That night we left the balcony door open and the drapes pulled completely open. The room was filled with the sounds of the surf, the clinking of glasses and muffled laughter from the outside bar three stories below, and the soft glow of a full moon as it shone brightly in the clear star-filled sky.

That night I made love to my beautiful wife. I watched in delight as she wiggled and gyrated under the onslaught of my aggressive tongue. After her third orgasm, she gently pushed me over onto my back and rode me gently until we were both on the brink of another climax. I pulled her down to my chest and she allowed me to roll her over. I made love to her like a man possessed, my strokes long, hard, and fast. Soon we shook in a loud, mutual climax, our bodies becoming as one. As we lay there enjoying the after-glow of our love making, I swear I heard a cheer and the sound of clapping coming from the bar, three stories below. We never learned if their ovation was meant for us or if it was just a coincidence. I like to think the former.

The next morning as we got ready to start our day, I looked in the shower for my bathing suit, which I had rinsed out and left to dry. Not seeing it, I assumed Patti had it in the bedroom.

"Patti, do you have my bathing suit?" I said walking out of the bathroom.

"Here's the suit I want you to where from now on."

In her hand was a black Speedo™, hardly bigger than the bottom of her suit.

"I can't wear this; it's little more than a jock strap. Everyone will see everything."

"That's the idea. I'm proud of you and the hard work you've put into your body. You're trim, fit and extremely sexy, and I want everyone to know it."

I pulled the suit on and looked in the mirror; the lump of my cock and balls was clearly outlined by the dark stretchy fabric.

"Patti are you sure about this; if we run into those girls again I'm afraid I may rip the material or pop right out."

"Don't worry; they wouldn't sell them if no one could wear them."

That day I spent much of my time reading in the shade, my legs and suit covered with a towel.

The only time I ventured out was with Patti along the water's edge on our walk. All during the walk I couldn't decide who was getting more looks, Patti from the guys we passed, or me from their wives or girl friends. At first I was embarrassed but, by late in the day I was getting used to it. That's when Patti upped the ante.

"Bill can you come over here and put some more sunscreen on me."

I looked up from my book and almost had a heart attack. There was my beautiful, sexy wife, her top lying on the sand by her feet, as she spread her lats and flashed me a quick double bicep pose.

"Patti, sit down," I whispered as a struggled to my feet, grabbed the sunscreen, and ran over to her.

Looking down at the growing lump in my paints she laughed and said, "That's okay, I'll do it, I just wanted to if the material could handle that monster. Yep, it looks like it can."

"You just wait until later I'll get even; payback is going to be a bitch."

She laughed and said, "I can hardly wait."

That night we made love long and hard, with a reckless abandon. This wasn't love--making, this was fucking. And I gave almost as good as I got. I held my own as long as I could but, in the end, I wound up on my back looking up at my proud Amazon of a wife. It was all good.

The days seemed to fly by. We spent our mornings working out in their small but unique gym which was located outside on a small section of the beach behind the bar. Open on all sides with just a large round thatched roof, the gym had several treadmills, a stair-master, several exercise machines and two sets of free weights and workout benches. I spent most of my time on the treadmill, and lifting lighter weights. Patti, on the other hand, spent nearly all of her time on the free weights. By the fourth day, we seemed to have the gym all to ourselves. I'm afraid Patti's strength seemed to intimidate the other men who were working out. Or maybe it was that their wives had caught them more than once staring at her with more than just a passing interest. Even the help made extra trips past the gym in order to ogle Patti as she went through her daily routine.

We showered off outside, waited about fifteen minutes for our suits to dry, and then we'd go for breakfast. Then it was out onto the beach. Our favorite umbrella was already set up for the day, towels resting on our lounges. Patti liked to tease me by going topless while she sunbathed.

"I don't want to have tan lines where people could see them," she said with a wink.

"Bill, would you come here and put some extra sunscreen on my chest? You wouldn't want me to burn, would you?"

Of course, I jumped at the chance to rub sunscreen on her exposed breasts; reacting as she knew I would.

Patti just laughed and looked up at me with a smile on her face.

"You are such a goof, but I love you with all my heart; don't ever change. Now, why don't you run down to the water and cool down and wash that stuff off your hands."

I gladly complied, running hard to the water's edge and then diving in. The water was warm enough to be enjoyable and cool enough to calm me down. After a few minutes, my situation back to normal, I would walk slowly out of the water and head back up to our deserted part of the beach. On the way, however, I would scan the beach looking for anything or anyone of interest. If Patti said I could look but not touch, who was I to disobey? I never did come upon those beautiful teenagers again, but I did see some rather unforgettable sights. Unfortunately, most of those were in the category of those people who should not take off their tops. These were women who maybe in their youth packed a nice pair of thirty-six-D's, but now were more like forty-two longs. Others I'm sure used to lay on their back and have their nipples point straight up to the sky; now they were pointing east and west. The men were equally unaware of how they looked as they paraded around in just their bathing suits, which were barely visible beneath the medicine ball-sized gut they were carrying around.

Thankfully, I always made it back to my Patti -- usually just in time to warn her that she was getting too much sun on her luscious breasts.

It was the afternoon of our final full day. After sunbathing, Patti suggested that we take a walk along the beach. I put on my jersey and Patti put on her cover up, grabbed her towel, which she wrapped around her waist, and we set out towards the north along the water's edge. Once we had passed the last of the low-rise resorts and were walking along the part of the beach that was open to the locals, Patti suddenly veered off to her right, up a high mound of sand and then north again, this time less than thirty feet from the bushes and trees separating the beach from the road.

"What are we doing here," I asked, looking around at the apparently deserted section of beach?

Patti looked around, satisfied with the location, and removed the towel from around her waist, spreading it out on the sand like a small blanket. Then she removed her cover up and her top and lay down on the towel.

"Patti what are you doing?" I said as I knelt next to her?

"Take off your shirt and come lay by me. I was reading my book and I came upon a part in the book where the man and his woman make love at night on the beach. It really got me horny and I decided I just couldn't wait for tonight."

"But Patti, someone might see us."

"Who's going to see us? Anyone walking on the beach can't see over the dune, no one walks up here; there's nothing to see. The natives don't usually come out here during the week; it's too hot and most of them are still at work."

Patti didn't hesitate as she slipped her finger inside my Speedo and stretched the material out over my hardening cock, which popped out hitting her on the chin. Grasping it in her hand, she began to pump me until my cock was rock hard and extended to its full length. I surrendered to the exquisite sensations I was experiencing as she began to twirl her tongue around its head, finally taking it entirely into her mouth.

Gently but firmly, she maneuvered me down on my back, looking up into the nearly perfect blue sky, with only an occasional puffy white cloud to shield me from the brightness of the afternoon sun. Then, a shadow passed over my face. It wasn't from a passing cloud; rather it was the shadow that Patti's magnificent body cast as she straddled my hips. In one fluid motion, she pulled the material of her swimsuit to the side and engulfed my cock to the hilt into her already dripping pussy.

At first she rode me slow and easy, but soon her pace began to quicken. I felt the spasms as her first orgasm washed over her. She didn't pause for a second, continuing her domination over me.

Patti opened her eyes, looked around and then directly into my eyes and with a satisfied expression whispered, "Don't look now; we have an admirer over by the bushes under the canopy of the trees."

When you tell a person not to look, what's the first thing they do? Look. I turned my head to the side facing the bushes and spotted a solitary figure. He appeared to be a slightly built young man, most likely an Aruban, and although he was standing in the dark shadows cast by the trees that surrounded him, to my eyes he appeared to be naked. He also appeared to be masturbating an impressively-sized erection.

I looked up at Patti, who seemed to care less that we were being watched, her eyes were closed once again, her face concentrating on the pleasure she was experiencing.

My gaze returned to our voyeur just as one of those puffy white clouds passed between us and the sun, casting the area in its shadow. The effect on the hiding place of the man was even more dramatic. Instead of the harsh shadows that effectively camouflage him, making it hard to see specific details, now the area seemed to turn a softer shade of gray. I could clearly see a second head peering out at us from under his arm. She was standing behind him; it wasn't his hand that was pumping his impressive cock, it was hers. To them, we were a sexual stage show, and she appeared to be timing her actions to correspond to the Patti's movements up and down as she road me towards my inevitable climax.

Faster and faster were Patti's movements as she began to bounce harder and harder on my now over-stimulated cock, her hands mauling her swaying breasts. Faster and faster the hand moved along his cock. Suddenly I saw his month open in a soundless expression of pure bliss; he trembled momentarily, and then spurt after spurt of cum shot from his cock as she continued to pump it, aiming it directly at us. I couldn't take any more; with a groan of passion, I erupted deep within her -- just as Patti experienced a mind-blowing orgasm, her face frozen in the moment of ecstasy.