Images from a Caribbean Vacation

They are in the Caribbean on a long-anticipated vacation. They came from the north where it is now dark and cold and where they are generally happy, having lived there much of their life together. But in late January they feel the need to get to the sun and the heat. They are sensualists, they love the sun and often lie naked on the beach when they finally reach it after hours of plane travel. They find a spot where such is possible, and it is remote and the sand is white and the water is aquamarine and the palm trees over them create a bit of dabbled shade as the day progresses.

They enjoy the food and the wine here – it is French – and while they don't always communicate very well (they speak high school French) they are comfortable with the European surroundings and the relaxed and sexy attitudes of the people they see around them.

They are runners and they run when they travel, especially on these island trips. The joy of running with fewer clothes in the winter, on dry surfaces and in the sun, is a big part of this experience. On this day, another runner (not all that common here) catches them from behind and greets them. He's an American, in good shape. He does not pass them – he stays with them as they chat and learn something about each other. He is a photographer, on assignment at their resort. He is working on new photos for the resort's website. They tell him that they are here to relax and escape – they've had some difficult experiences recently and need some time to refill. "Refill?" he asks and the wife simply answers "yes"...

They complete the run together and agree to meet for a drink later. Before dinner, they see him with his camera, shooting the sunset and guests, drinking a club soda and lime, smiling and laughing, and getting those around him to laugh and relax. The husband and wife are having cocktails and are feeling relaxed and they watch the photographer work. He is lean and tan, with longish hair. He looks intelligent and artistic.

At dinner, the wife says "I've decided we should have him photograph us. He is the right one to document this moment in our life – this moment when we are healthy and unencumbered by worry, at least temporarily. This moment..." and she hesitates. Her husband looks into her eyes, this woman he loves, the woman who had introduced him to a life he'd always dreamed of, a life of art, nature, sex, love and adventure. Their relationship was intimate and he was daily grateful for the blessing she'd been to him.

Her husband says "OK - do you have anything specific in mind? By the beach at sunset...?" and she replies "Just us in our vacation state of mind, in escape, in a dream, but real, as the photos will prove." The husband agrees – their relationship has always been one in which they could ask for something and they would each respect the other's thoughts. They learned from each other. "OK," he says, "that sounds good...let's see if he has any ideas."

She goes to the photographer, who is finishing up his afternoon photo shoot, and gives him their room number and tells him they want him to photograph them and could they talk about it...perhaps over a drink later? He packs up his equipment and tells her he needs to get something to eat.

After dinner, the couple strolls on the beach, the sky above them an azure blue, rich with stars. Some of their appetite has been satisfied by the good French food – salad and cheeses, a variety of meats, greens and sweets to top it off. They have learned not to eat too much – perhaps they are becoming more French. The red wine at dinner had made everything they ate taste even better. Now they walk on the sand and the husband asks "what kind of photos are you really thinking of?" She says "Images which capture what we are feeling – this mature place in our relationship, secure, deeply in love, still growing and with an openness, a love for the air and for the sea, images which represent us as we are today, here, at this moment." He can tell she probably has more specific ideas, but he doesn't ask for details – he trusts her.

When they return to their room, the red light on their phone is flashing. He picks up the message – it is the photographer who says that it would be his pleasure to make photos of the couple - "just tell me when and where."

They are feeling rested and comfortable, completely in their vacation state of mind – it is still early in the evening, and warm ocean air refreshes them. A bottle of champagne is chilled in their room, which is furnished in a European modern style, minimal, tasteful, a large mirror on the wall, the windows open and letting in fragrances they've never experienced in their day to day life up north, making them feel as though they are in a different world, with different expectations, or no expectations.

The husband picks up the phone and dials the photographer. A few minutes later, he arrives at their door with a small bag of equipment. He is dressed in linen pants and a light blue shirt, huaraches on his tanned feet. The couple offers him a glass of champagne, but he prefers sparkling water. They sip their drinks as he asks them a few questions. He is setting up a light and putting together his camera. "What else do you enjoy, besides running?" "How long have you lived in Wisconsin?" "What do you like to read?" "What kind of music do you like?" (They were listening to their favorites at the moment, and the three of them talked about current indie music and musicians and the joys of live music.) He was learning more about them, as a good photographer should – getting to know the person he was about to try to capture.

They chat as his light makes the room seem even more clean – it makes the shadows go away without making the space feel bright – the room is warm and glowing with a comfortable natural light. It is a clean well-lighted place, the husband thinks, as he watches the process. The couple is open with the photographer, they are very comfortable with him. They tell him some of their story and in doing so, they communicate something of their values to him – their love of travel and adventure, the sun and the mountains and the ocean, art, their willingness to take some risks, their desire to learn and to live life fully and without fear, to seek new experiences, to deepen their connection to each other.

The wife is tan from her days in the sun, lean from exercise, with a smile that is her most attractive feature – eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. She wears a long summer dress and sandals and relaxes in a rattan chair. Her husband wears light silk trousers, trim on his body, a colorful shirt hanging on the outside. On his wrist, a leather bracelet with a little silver trim – a gift from her as they began this trip.

The photographer starts with a few photos of them just as they are, relaxing beside each other, holding hands – he continues to talk to them – telling stories of other shoots. He compliments them as he moves near and around them, and he begins to give them some suggestions – not orders, just ideas - "move your hand to his chest" ..." maybe you should touch her thigh"..."can you look at each other?"

Without a suggestion, the wife begins to unbutton her husband's shirt – and if the photographer was surprised, he didn't show it. In fact, he hummed a little, and the camera moved closer. The shutter clicked.

Her hand went insider her husband's shirt, touching his chest and though the photographer could neither see it nor capture it, her fingers played with his nipple. The husband's thoughts became even more charged – he'd wondered where this might be going and the direction did not completely surprise him.

The photographer dimmed the lights a little and asked if she would pull the hem of her dress up a little higher and she did, the persimmon colored cloth beautiful against the tan of her skin.

The husband's hand stroked his wife's thigh, smooth and strong, warm as if she'd just come in from the sun. They began to lose their awareness of the photographer – where he was and where the camera was pointed. (Click.)

She'd unbuttoned her husband's shirt and he shrugged it off, his chest almost fee of hair – he had a Scandinavian look – and his belly flat. Her dress moved farther up, helped by his hand, exploring the upper reaches of her beautiful legs.

The husband's pants revealed his growing cock and he had a brief moment of embarrassment when he became aware again that the photographer was there and not just watching, but studying and recording what he was seeing. His wife giggled a little, reached for her glass of champagne, took a sip then stood and pulled her husband to his feet. (Click.) Her hand went to below his belt and she felt his hardening cock, and knew that a drop of precum would already be there. She knew he wore light, almost feminine, briefs which did not contain him completely.

Her husband reached behind her and began to unzip the simple dress she wore and for a moment they stood in a half embrace – lightly touching, feeling their clothing begin to fall away. She let the dress fall and as the photographer watched, she began to unbuckle her husband's pants and soon they, too, fell to the floor. (Click.)

She took him by the hand and they lay down on the bed. She wore a lacy thong, and her small and athletic breasts were bare, not only to the eyes of her lover, but to the eyes and camera lens of the photographer. The husband's cock was stretching the thin material of his underwear and, yes, there was a wet spot at its tip. (Click.)

Music was playing quietly, but the talking in the room had stopped – there were sounds, but they were the inarticulate speech of love making – the delighted moans, a hum, affirmation, the sounds of desire fulfilled, the sounds of tastes being experienced, of wishes and thoughts and dreams being realized, of comfort and happiness, without words, all three of them were expressing some form of pleasure: in touch, in taste, in sight, in watching and being watched.

The photographer moved about the bed now, side to side to end, as he captured their bodies, tan against white sheets, her hair now getting that beautifully wild messiness of lovemaking, their small remaining clothes getting pushed aside, and down, bodies being revealed completely, exhibited, touched. The photographer struggled to remain outside the scene – his own cock was beginning to respond to what he was watching.

She moved lower on her husband's body, and squeezed the drops of clear precum from his cock – captured in an image (click) and she licked it delicately, (click) tasting those drops and then pulled his cock slowly into her mouth. Her husband's hand moved to her pussy, shaven completely for this trip, smooth and tan from the sun, opening up now in warmth and wetness. (Click.)

The photographer backed off, wanting to capture the whole picture, and also wanting to stop or slow his own reaction and involvement. He reminded himself that he was on the outside, an observer, as he had often been, but his attraction to this woman, and this couple, was powerful.

Now that they were enjoying each other with their mouths, with their tongues – tasting and smelling their partner – familiar, satisfying, intoxicating, the husband did not want this experience to end, and neither did she. They laid back, like the photographer, perhaps, to regain their perspective. They lay next to each other and looked at the photographer as he sipped his sparkling water. He offered them more champagne and they accepted – completely comfortable, naked in front of him, in the clean and warm light, their bodies fully charged with erotic power – strong, sexy, on display. It was a scene that was beautiful and loving and still open to possibility.

The champagne was French and very good, and when she dribbled a bit on her chin, the husband leaned over to lick it off, then kissed her on her open lips. He wanted to taste her pussy – it went well with champagne, he'd already learned, and his head moved between her legs. She leaned back, her head by the edge of the bed, her legs spread to give her lover access to her wet pussy. She was thinking of his cock and how she loved to suck it as she felt his mouth on her pussy and her thoughts were full of images of cocks and pussies, hands touching her breasts, cum spurting and pussies dripping. She touched her own breasts and squeezed her large erect nipples. (Click.)

The photographer captured it all, from the top, the side, close and from a few steps back. He'd given up trying to stay unaffected by the sight and had reached to his crotch to allow his straightening cock more room to grow.

The husband moved to enter her body – his cock was as hard and as large as it had ever been and her pussy was dripping wet – he slid into her slowly and she moaned as he filled her pussy, as he reached deep inside he and began to thrust in and out. (Click.)

Her thoughts continued to be full of images and sounds, a movie playing in her own head and she was both creating the scene and starring in it. She enjoyed her sexuality, her sexual thoughts and dreams, and she and her husband often revealed their fantasies to each other with delight.

He remembered with a smile something she'd once said in the middle of lovemaking: "I want to have your cock and eat it too" and they'd both chuckled..."er, suck it, that is...I want to have your cock and suck it, too." She looked at him now, as the photographer stood near her head on the edge of the bed. (Click.) The shot was of the husband slowly and soulfully thrusting into her pussy as she was clearly dreaming of something.

At this moment, they communicated through their eyes and their touch, and they communicated clearly - she caught her husband's eye as she reached for him. There was something asked and answered between them. It was a question born out of years of loving trust and talking - something about desire and curiosity – something that had begun during their run with the photographer and which, while unspoken, arrived in their thoughts now at the same time. His eyes answered 'yes, yes, it's ok, it's good, do it, yes...'

She arched her back and reached behind her, finding the photographer standing near. Her hands found his belt and quickly undid it, unbuttoned his pants allowing them to fall to the floor lightly. The husband watched her, feeling no jealousy, only curiosity and lust, and desire for his wife.

If the photographer was shocked, he was even more delighted. His cock sprung fee from his pants and both the husband and wife saw a hard and large erection standing up, rising from an apparently trimmed crotch – smooth balls and little light brown hair. The photographer had stopped taking pictures and now put the camera down.

The wife's hand cupped his balls and she began to explore them with her tongue. She licked from the back to the front, and took one in her mouth and then the other. Her hand reached up to grip this new cock – as her husband's grew larger and more urgent, excited as he was by the sight of his wife taking a strange cock into her mouth for the first time. He pushed in, feeling her pussy, wet and wetter, tightening and pushing against him, her hips swinging from side to side with pleasure. Her orgasm shook her body as she moaned on the cock in her mouth.

In her mind, the movie played to its conclusion – her eyes shut, her mouth and tongue and lips sliding up and down the new, hard, cock as her husband's familiar body rocked hers. A cock in her pussy and a cock in her mouth and her hands with much to do, wanting to touch everyone and everything, including her own body. She stroked one man's balls, ran her other hand through her husband's hair and reached for his chest. She was fucking and sucking with a building urgency and the slippery cock in her mouth paralleled the wet cock pushing into her pussy. All was hot and wet – and suddenly, a tremendous sense of relief passed through her body as the cock in her mouth jerked and spurted come and the cock in her pussy exploded at the same time, hot white come washing over and through her body as both men shuddered and groaned for what seemed like minutes.

She held onto the cock she had just sucked off, stroking it slippery and warm. Her husband moved slowly inside her, his body calming even as hers began to settle down as if they'd just finished a run.

She smiled, caught her husband's eye and saw him return the smile as he lay beside her. The photographer pulled away gently, pulled up his pants, buckled up and resumed taking pictures. The two lovers seemed to be unaware of his presence as they held each other, warm, a little sweaty in the tropical night. (Click.) It was sweet and quiet and the photographer quietly packed up his equipment, then poured a bit more champagne in their glasses – touched her hair and slipped out of the room.

The next day the photos were on a chip in an envelope waiting for them at the registration desk. The photographer had checked out – his assignment was completed. The husband and wife went for a run – they had a few more days on this island and during the run they spoke of the things they still wanted to experience on their vacation.