Aha Oe Feil? Are You Jealous?

Aha Oe Feil? Are You Jealous?

Three plus one in Tahiti

I'm not even going to describe the twenty-three-hour flight from Dulles to Papeete. Except to say that if you want your life energy and any urge to procreate drained from you, lock yourself in a humming metal container with two hundred and ninety disoriented, sleep-deprived people for a day. Also, catch a connecting flight and several taxis, eat...well, you know airplane food. Enough! You want to know about the sex.

Dad, mom and I started the first day unconscious, sleeping in the bungalow. At least it was in the same bed. I knew we were recovering when her hand reached over my hip and felt for my cock and my faithful friend responded heartily. We had my mother sandwiched between us, three spoons in a king-sized bed with a view of the Pacific off the veranda. Our bungalow sat right out in the lagoon on stilts, part of a curved necklace of cabins strung together on a narrow boardwalk. Behind us lay a crescent of blue-green water and sugar sand beach. You could believe that civilization had ended except the place was fully equipped with modern amenities including a tub with stairs down into it. And a local woman to serve us.

You're thinking, yeah, I know how she'd be serving me...bent over and squealing. But it wasn't like that, at least at first. This was about the classiest resort on the island and Tiare was introduced as our bungalow's steward, a kind of house-maid who would take care of cleaning, cooking, errands, guide us and give a taste of Tahiti like it was when Paul Gauguin painted there in the 1890s. She was short and round, dark and quiet. I don't think she was any older than I am and she had a knack for fading into the scenery, yet knowing when we needed something. Otherwise, you might forget she was there. Unless you're a guy. Of course you can't forget there's a ripe, young, bare-breasted native girl in a light sarong padding around your little hut in the lagoon. It was a white man's wet dream for nineteen hundred dollars a night per person, all inclusive...

That first day, when mom stirred and found my inflating cock, I hadn't opened my eyes yet. I felt the bed shift and heard dad making wake-up sounds, too. The smell of the ocean passed over us on a light, warm breeze. Tahiti's daily spread of temps run between 75 and 85 in December! I wasn't clear what time of day it was. A shadow fell and I cracked my eyes; Tiare stood in the doorway to the veranda meekly, silhouetted against the pale, blue sky, her hands clasped in front of her, ready to be told what to do, I suppose. Since we'd fallen right into bed on our arrival we hadn't really met her. The staff told us that Tiare spoke French and some English, besides Tahitian. Apparently, she was to be with us nearly twenty-four, seven. My parents don't skimp on the rewards they give themselves for a year of hard work, but I'd never had a servant. I wasn't sure what to do. I assumed she could see under the light sheet that my cock was being stroked. In that moment the reality of our new family dynamic became really real.

After that practically bestial coupling two weeks before back home in Virginia we three had done things differently.

"Grant, you call your mother Amy now, alright?" Dad had said. "And Amy, you treat him like a man, not a boy. Don't mother him anymore."

She had looked sad at that, "I guess I'm not losing a son. I'm gaining a man, a good lover. I'll try not to tell you what to do, not scold you," she brightened, "I'm very proud of what you're becoming."

I was to be treated like any other grown up from then on. So when we traveled we acted as if Robert Brown and Son were Robert Brown and Very-Good-Friend-who-shared-the-same-woman. Dad was alpha and I was the beta in his domain. Not a bad arrangement considering the perks. I knew that one day I'd find a woman like mom and we'd create our own family dynamic. But for now it was a revelation to be elevated above my mother, no longer just her offspring. She, Amy, was the best girlfriend yet.

The sex we'd had since that night wasn't nearly as raw. If you have the same meal every night, it's not special anymore, Amy had said. So there were times when dad and I did take turns (I really like sloppy seconds, don't you?) or we three'd just spent an hour in the spa with long foreplay that ended in vigorous banging and half the water sloshed out on the deck. One time they walked me through the finer points of nipple clamps and restraints and very, very delayed gratification. I got to know what Amy really liked. I practiced warming her up like dad said with music and candles and incense and a lot of slow licking, pinching and biting in just the right places at just the right time. I was learning how to make her cum repeatedly before I ran her up my flagpole and watched her snapping in the breeze of my own cyclone of a climax.

It wasn't sex every day either. The same rule applied: delayed gratification leads to greater pleasure. And not the same meal twice. They were teaching me well.

So there we were entangled in a tropical bed under the eyes of a petite, chubby, topless island girl who was waiting to be told what to do. I suppose she'd seen a lot of honeymoon couples getting frisky. Our neighbors in the string of bungalows were mainly newlyweds, we were told. Most were young, but not all. If you honeymoon at a clothing optional resort you must have an exhibitionist nature, I supposed. I'd been wondering how it would be. Remembering that other bungalows stretched in an arc on either side of us, I became aware of familiar sounds faintly carried on the breeze. Someone was scaling the peaks of passion not too far away, it sounded like. This was going to be a weird vacation.

Well, that first morning Tiare said, brightly, "Breakfast on veranda, s'il vous plait," and she waved her arm toward the shaded space. I noticed the smell of bacon then and maybe waffles. "You start with American food."

Amy roused first and sat up, pulling the sheet off of me. The only indication Tiare gave that she noticed my boner was a slight raising of the eyebrows. Mom sat there topless, too, apparently ready to be in the spirit of the place. Dad got up without a word and made for the bathroom. He wasn't generally a morning person and jetlag wasn't helping that. I noticed Tiare watch his butt as he shuffled across the room, her expression unreadable.

Even in this luxury resort we had to take turns in the bathroom. But after all that we collected at the breakfast table. It was one in the afternoon under a white sun. The pacific paled to infinity. Tiare busied herself bringing the courses from the trolley. Dad, Amy and I were awkwardly nude for a while, but surprisingly, as we ate and Tiare acted like nothing unusual was happening, it began to slip my mind. I forgot I was naked, though I'd catch Tiare's bobbling breasts as she served the meal and I'd see Amy's hanging heavy and full and my boner would sprout again. We'd read about what to expect our first time at a clothing optional place. Erections happened and were ignored, mostly. I mean, apparently they weren't to be acted on in the moment. They could be encouraged later, in more private circumstances, at this place even more than other purist naturist camps. The honeymooners were here for conjugal pleasures, after all, but were admonished to keep it discreet.

So while we ate and my boner swelled and deflated, leaving a shiny little trail in my lap, we enjoyed the food. I was ravenous. On the next veranda over sat a young couple, bare as they were born, having a good lunch, their bare-breasted cabin girl hovering in the background. We exchanged waves. It was too far to chat without shouting and that would have been uncouth.

"Four hours sunshine," said Tiare, "you go beach?" Her shy smile made her especially girlish, but she must have seen a lot of naked people in her few years. I wondered if it jaded a person. They can't all have been as attractive as my family, I thought, maybe we're a perk for her. Light wraps were provided for guests who wanted to ease into nudity. We agreed to each wear one down the boardwalk to the beach, just a couple of minutes away. Tiare trailed us obediently on the sunburnt planks. Small rays glided in the clear water below us as we walked.

On the beach-facing side each of the bungalows sported a thatched wall behind which privacy and an outdoor shower was provided, so we couldn't peek. The sun off the bay made me squint; I'd forgotten sunglasses. Amy carried a small net bag and dad had a book. Really? I planned to look at all the naked babes. Walking, even under the robe, my half-hard member flopped against my thighs. As it happened there was indeed a higher-than-average percentage of fine flesh on the beach, but people of all sizes and shapes were laid out there baking when we arrived. Honestly, I hadn't seen some of those shapes naked before and I don't want to again. But the sleek, bronzed and glistening women kept my attention. Most were paired with men of the same qualities, others were obviously trophy wives, some were vacationing with other women. You could tell how long they'd been there by the state of their tans or sunburns. It was like walking into a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue without the swimsuits. We looked to be the only menage-a-trois.

Nobody was having sex on the beach, if you're wondering. Guests seemed to abide by the 'keep it discreet' rule. We picked a trio of lounge chairs and, taking a deep breath, I dropped my modesty with my robe. Some nude folks were scattered in the smooth, emerald water and we all waded out to enjoy the bathtub warmth. This will give a guy an instant boner all by itself. Watching my parents holding hands as they strode in up to the waist and seeing them for the first time on such a wide open stage, casually naked in a crowd, knowing we'd be sharing each other soon had me jittery with arousal. Add a dozen or so exquisite racks and my body was thrumming as we three stood and tried to take it all in.

Seagulls laughed above us, the palms rustled, someone in a bungalow cried out a muffled climax; several folks gave a happy cheer and raised their glasses. Privacy, and discretion, clearly had a different definition here. Tiare waved from the waterline with a tube of sunscreen in her hand. "No sunburn, miss, no sunburn!"

I didn't look to see if anyone watched us walk out of the water. My erection wasn't going down no matter what unpleasant thoughts I summoned up to kill my libido.

When we first reached the lounges mom held out her hand for the tube. Tiare piped up, "I do, miss, I do!" squeezing lotion into her palm, "Back first, you please?"

Face down I watched the dark girl slather her hands and apply the cream to Amy with a slow and careful stroke. She must have done a lot of this. Amy smiled, eyes closed, as she worked it from her shoulders downward. The girl stopped just at the round of Amy's ass then meticulously blew and brushed the sand from mom's feet before beginning from that end and moving up her legs. Tiare kneaded Amy's glutes like a masseuse and my mother was practically quivering when she was asked to turn over. Catching dad's eye, I was sure he was as aroused as I was now. I was not the most comfortable with my erection pressed into the canvas of the lounge, but our turns were coming.

Face to the sky, Amy lay quietly as Tiare did her hands, her arms, shoulders, collarbones and then her mammaries. She rubbed the lotion in well and Amy's breathing grew quite labored. Her nipples popped. Tiare paid no attention, but started again with her toes and made her way slowly up her parted legs. I raised my head to watch this part. The girl put her oily thumbs alongside Amy's sex and pressed while her fingers butterflied on her hip bones. She used the heel of her hand to rub my mother's mound and trailed fingertips up across her belly. I wondered, did dad tell these folks that this was exactly the kind of treatment that would pop my mother's cork?

Tiare stopped before Amy went into convulsions, playing her body quite skillfully for someone so young. I guess a woman just understands another woman's body better than I ever will. Actually, I hope not; I'll keep practicing til I'm that good or better.

Then it was dad's turn to get slathered in pretty much the same pattern, from the periphery to the center, top to middle, toes to raging hard-on that she didn't touch. By then he was face up and as red from her rubbing as from the tropical sun. Just like with Amy, Tiare stopped before dad popped. She kept the most professional mein the entire time, too; no winks, no smiles, no suggestive glances. The island girl held out the tube, squirted a line up his shaft and said, "You do, sir," pointing, "no burn penis, very bad." Hands on hips, she watched with satisfaction as dad stroked in the lotion. The wolfish grin he beamed at her had no effect.

Tiare began on me facedown by delicately removing the sand from my feet. I have to say my toes now rank higher on my list of erogenous zones than they did before. No one had ever blown sand off of my insoles; I could feel it in my balls. A light, warm breeze made a delicate counterpoint to Tiare's ministrations. As the island girl worked the lotion into my skin the breeze cooled me, then the sun heated me again as she moved on. Her fingers on my inner thighs had me wanting to hunch the canvas against which my erection was pressed. I know I groaned a time or two before she was done loosening my glutes.

"Much butt," Tiare gave me a spank, "Over, sir, s'il vous plait?" I rose up and flopped on my back, my trusty old friend slapping against my hip. "Hmmmm," the girl betrayed no hungry look, became no less professional in her demeanor. Looking around, I noted that I wasn't alone in receiving five-star service at the resort. Other couples were being tended to by their cabin girls, and I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, at least one cabin boy. I heard another cry of pleasure from one of the bungalows and another celebratory cheer from those on the beach. The sun was approaching the tops of the palms in its slow glide down the slippery pale sky. Everything seemed slippery just then. I'm sure mom was.

Amy had been watching her men get oiled with undisguised fascination. It occurred to me that she'd probably never seen dad touched by another woman. Her expression carried both intense interest and a shade of doubt. Was she jealous? As dad's sub she didn't have veto in this. Yet, we'd all talked about what we might encounter at the resort. The official listings highlighted the cabin girl service, but only some obscure tripadvisor posts hinted at anything carnal. Dad had picked up some inside info from one of his DC contacts. A man can dream. Maybe mom had been dreaming, too.

Tiare pulled my toes and worked deep into the webs between them. "Mo...I mean, Amy, watch what she's doing now. Will you try this some time?"

"Pretty stimulating, isn't it?"

Then the girl applied oil to my ankles, my calves, my knees, my thighs, just skirting my heavy balls. My cock was sprung off my belly and dripping, pulsing with my heart. I willed her fingers to wrap it and stroke...but she came to my fingers and did the deep work there before gliding up my arms. She spent a surprisingly arousing few minutes gently kneading the oil into my face. I'm adding eyebrows to my expanded list of erogenous zones. As she leaned over me I watched her fruity boobs dangle and sway. Tiare turned to lathering my chest. Her fingers rippling across my abs as my breathing became ragged, I tried to catch her eye. She went about her business calmly, meticulously and with the effect that, just like with my father, the last inches of me not slathered were the length of my cock.

I grasped her hand and pulled it to my shaft. "You do," I said.

"Pas autorise' ici...mmm...not allowed here," she said firmly, pulling away. "You do, sir."

Not allowed 'here', I thought, there's hope! I let her step back and looked her hard in the eye while I stroked my organ with one hand, coating my balls with the other. Two women were mesmerized now. Mom sat up on the edge of the lounge and dad stood behind her, hands on his hips.

"Time to get back to the room," he barked and turned, snatching up his robe, but striding toward the boardwalk at full mast and without hiding anything. Mom grabbed my arm and pulled. No more stroking, just quick-paced following her and dad. Tiare picked up whatever we left behind and hurried to catch up. A few of the other beachgoers smiled as we went rapidly by. "Welcome to paradise!" one portly older guy offered. His beach goddess of a wife was being massaged by a cabin boy beside him.

At the bungalow, breathless with both exertion and lust, we crowded into the outdoor shower in the open vestibule. Mom giggled when I wrapped my slick arms around her and rubbed her up and down my body. Dad pulled down the shower nozzle and began spraying himself off. Tiare caught up, "Sir, s'il vous plait, I do, I do!" Some job, I thought, put all that lotion on just to hose it all off almost right away.

She didn't just hose it off, either, she squeegeed our bodies with the side of her hand, firmly stroking across my already inflamed flesh. Tiare was a pro, still not grasping my cock, though she did knock it aside in her vigorous work. I took care of stripping the lotion from it without being told. She looked up from kneeling to wipe down my feet and saw me pulling the fat knob right toward her face. By now her sarong was soaked and clung to her hips, folded into her creases. She dripped with shower spray. Finally I saw a look of hunger in her eye.

"Mademoiselle," she turned on her knees to mom, "sand vagin, bad," pointing at mom's dripping bush. "I do." Then she leaned into my mother's delta, tongue out, and began probing.

"Oh!" Amy leaned back against me, "Oh, my..." I guessed it was mom's first time. She was rigid in my arms and I kissed her, melting her between us. Dad rubbed the last of the lotion off of his pecker and watched. His first time watching, too. The island girl pressed her face deep between my mother's thighs and pushed her knees apart. Mom hung limp, her breasts tumbling over my encirling arms, as my and Tiare's kisses inflamed her from both ends. She suddenly went stiff and cried out, legs trembling. Unrelenting, Tiare licked her to another crest and a prolonged cry of pleasure. A faint cheer from the beach made us chuckle. Dad and I high-fived.

"Get up, Tiare," Dad held her elbow and guided her to the bed, pointed, "Lie down." The girl peeled off her sopping wrap and showed us her thick rump, her heavy thighs, a dense, curly bush, then obediently lay on her back, feet dangling. The girl watched, heavy lidded as I carried mom, whose peak had left her limp. I lay her beside the girl and appreciated the contrast as they held hands. My mother turned to her and whispered thank you into her ear, then reached for a breast and began nibbling an earlobe. Some folks might think it's racist to notice the complementary differences between the two women. Not so. I wanted to celebrate the unfamiliar. I don't think that my preferring skinnier women of any shade makes me a fat shamer, either. I hadn't been with a chubby girl before but I was perfectly willing to find out what it was like.

Tiare's curves were smoother, mom's more angular. The rich ochers and purplish-browns of Tiare's flesh were smooth where my mother's pinker, creamier skin faded to translucence where the sun rarely shone. I determined to have Amy get an all-over tan. Their breasts were less different, both heavy and settling wide, puddling on their chests. Tiare's dark, knobbly areola scrunched into thick purplish, mouth-watering nipples, mom's carmine ones, smaller and sharper, were engorged, too. I wondered if more flesh meant more nerve endings. Would the dark girl take as many strokes of the fingertip to be aroused?