Ixchel Ch. 04 - End

On the resort website before she'd made the trip and then in the orientation brochure in her room, Cheryl had studied the phenomenon of Passionné Island. It was a spit of land 250 yards from the resort beach, a little more than a quarter mile long and a bit more than 50 yards at its widest. A firm, thin beach surrounded it, palm trees and flowering bushes gave the impression it was heavily vegetated. There was a full bar and snack shop in the middle, a dozen cabanas dotted the island. There were two rules here that didn't apply to the rest of the resort: full nudity was encouraged, almost required, and public sex was tolerated. In short, this was a place of untethered lewdness.

At the end of the dock was a small wooden structure, the black woman attendant announced, "This here be da lockers. You can go behind dem curtains, if you please. Women dere and men over dere."

As Cheryl and the other woman stepped behind the drapery, Cheryl wondered at the custom. 'In about half a minute, that man will be able to look at all of me, but I have to hide myself so he can't see me take my clothes off. How silly!' And after she'd disrobed, she stepped out. The man glanced at her as they put their belongings in a locker and was handed an aqua beach towel, hardly as interested as he'd been on the ride over, when Cheryl had been lewdly dressed.

They parted, the couple going south, Cheryl taking a path directly across the key, dressed only in sandals, a bracelet and sunglasses, carrying her towel and a small bag holding a few necessities, and she bumped into the bar, a thatched roof structure open on all four sides. Two middle aged men occupied stools, Cheryl felt the men glance at her, one of them tipped his glass to her in greeting, but she noticed his penis register no attraction. Cheryl ordered another strawberry daiquiri, and continued her exploration. When she reached the ocean side of the island, she saw not many people were here, perhaps one or two to every thousand square feet of sand, many of them in the shade of palm trees. Forty yards away, a game of volleyball was in progress, one of the men spanked one of the women on her bare buttocks after a good shot, another woman turned to a man she was playing with and touched him below his waist. In the distance a couple on a towel seemed to be lying closely together, a sensuous scene but not, at least from this distance, pornographic.

Cheryl spread her towel beneath a palm tree fifty-five yards away from any neighbors. A cabana stood nearby, she inspected it. It was a tent, perhaps ten feet on a side, resting on a wooden platform. The side facing the sea had its two flaps open, in the middle rested a single platform, two feet high with a linen covered mat; the top could be raised into a sitting position or laid down until it was flat. Seven feet above it, a ceiling fan lazily circled, providing a sluggish breeze.

Cheryl returned to her towel, discerned it was time to spread more sunblock on her body. She was just starting her arms when providence sent two young strollers past her, both male, both young. One was tall and thin, well over six feet, the color of milky chocolate, the other was a bit stockier and shorter, his complexion was of onyx. "Might I help you with that?" the darker one offered.

Cheryl didn't hesitate. "Yes, please. My name's Cheryl."

"I'm Carl, and my friend here is Raymond. Would you like to lie down?" Cheryl obeyed, she was on her stomach, and Carl poured lotion into his palms, then began to knead into her flesh, starting at her shoulders. As he worked, the threesome got to know each other. "We're from George Mason University," Carl explained in a cultured voice. "We'll be seniors this year. We're both on the track and field team, I'm a shot-putter, Raymond's the best damn hurdler in the conference." When he reached her waist heading southward, Carl bounced to her feet, headed north. When he got to the invisible line, Carl asked, "Do you want me to do your rump?"

"Yes, please." And Carl's hands roamed across her cheeks, and a finger respectfully approached the juncture of the legs, Cheryl made no objection.

"Roll over," Carl encouraged, and she did. She wondered if the boys were enjoying the spectacle of her naked body, easily thirty years older than the girls they dated, and when Carl lubed her breasts, his palms lingering a trice longer over her nipples than was strictly necessary, Cheryl let a thin smile creep upon her face. Across her belly he stroked, then, as before, skipping to the feet, up the legs and then the hips and pelvis. When he stroked the smoothness of her mons she sighed, and when a finger touched the folds of skin, she spread her legs slightly, and he dug for her clit.

"What else can we do for you?" Carl suggested. The offer included, Cheryl felt, both men, and she considered it seriously. For a good forty seconds she was silent, Carl continued the cajoling of her sensitive part. Did she want this, she wondered? She closed her limbs, prevaricated, "Right now, I think I'd like to go into the water."

"Okay," Carl agreed, assuming an invitation included him and his mate, and when she moved to stand up, it was Raymond's hand that helped her, a most gentlemanly gesture. Perhaps it was this simple kindness that presaged the eventual outcome. One hand linked with Raymond, the other with Carl, Cheryl trotted towards the three foot surf, wetting her ankles, knees and hips until she was chest deep, the globes of her breasts floating in the water, laughing. Raymond dove deep under a breaker, Cheryl floated on top of it, and Carl followed his friend. She spied them eight yards distant when they surfaced, and then they simultaneously dove back towards her, she was knocked off balance when one touched her legs, only to be saved from spilling by the other. The threesome played in the surf for ten minutes, a game of tag ensued, and then, when Cheryl was caught by Raymond, the first kiss happened, three seconds of tongue, then a bit more serious. A breaker hit, and she clung to him, her legs floating over his hips. Suddenly Carl was behind her, his chest against her back, a hand on her breast in the water, and she felt his prick, still soft, against the crack of her butt. Had they been ready, either man could have entered her. Here was the moment of decision, Cheryl recognized, and her choice was now easy. She unsnarled herself from the predicament she'd found herself in, stood between the two men, kissed first Carl, then Raymond, gripped Raymond's tool in her right hand, Carl's in her left, and bespoke, "Let's go into a cabana."

The group swam towards the shore, more slowly than Cheryl would have liked, for her blood was boiling now in advance of what the men could do to her, fighting the waist high surf as it tried to pull her back to sea, then there was just thigh or calf in the water, they were on the sand now. Cheryl stopped by her towel quickly, grabbing her carryall, and soon they were inside the tent.

She sat on the platform, motioned Raymond towards her, and took his semi-erect tool within her mouth. It was long, a little thin, and after a moment of exciting him, she turned to Carl and swallowed his scepter. It was thicker than average, it stretched her mouth to ingest it, but as the wonder of pumping blood accomplished the marvel she realized neither of these men was much larger than the average of the men she'd sampled -- Wes, she thought, was probably larger than these men, and the myth of a huge black cock was probably just that. But both were sizable enough.

After her turns at the twin penises pointed at her mouth had aroused the boys, Carl gently pushed her back onto the mattress, she arranged herself in the center. Carl bent to kiss her mouth, neck and nipples, there was another set of lips lapping at the opening between her limbs, and as Raymond nibbled at her clit and Carl excited her gumdrops, she had her first orgasm of the session, a big one, waves of lilac and magenta, shocks of electricity running from toe to scalp. The boys kept at it, the heights reached increased, she murmured. Tears arrived at her eyelids, low moaning transposed into high pitched grunts and then a siren scream. She shuddered, and then, suddenly, the phantasm dissolved and she had her eyes closed, was catching her breath.

She felt her legs being raised, and when she looked, Raymond was between them, his cock pointing at her, and suddenly, and very willingly, she was impaled. The man thrust deeply into her, burying every inch of his length, and the remnants of her orgasm returned, this time centering on her central tunnel, it throbbed uncontrollably, her toes above his shoulders curled, she pulled her new lover further into her.

Then she felt a sensation on her cheek, it was Carl's thing, and she took it into her mouth, letting Carl use it as a substitute for what Raymond was currently occupying. The bodies shifted, now she was lying on her side and her back was to Carl, now he was pumping inside of her and Raymond's erection was in her mouth, she stimulated it with her tongue. Another shift, she was on her knees, a man behind her and shoving it in her, the other below her, again his penis in her mouth.

All during the lewd ballet, it lasted well over forty minutes, Cheryl had small orgasms, sometime evolving into monstrous ones, and the men treated her with respect. Of course they encouraged her with terms such as 'come on, baby,' and 'let me fuck that,' but not once did they call her slut, whore or skank.

During a small break in the action she allowed her eyes to slide to the ocean while Raymond was noshing at her clit. Not twenty feet away a couple was watching the action, the man's penis up and alert, the woman wide mouthed. Carl invited them to join the jamboree, the woman declined. They continued to observe for some time, then after a particularly intense moment for Cheryl they'd disappeared.

She was on her back, Carl was sitting to the side watching the action, Raymond was on top of her, her legs were high in the air, when it was he, not she that shuddered, and she held him tightly to her as he spurted, his eyes blank, his back straight. She waited until he cooled, a few more strokes to soothe him, then, while he was still on top of her she turned to Carl, motioned for him to replace his buddy, and he was only too glad to climb between her legs and put his thick baton once again into the battleground. "Do it, baby, let me feel you come," she encouraged, and he freely thrust into her, the only thing on his mind was his eventual orgasm, and three or four minutes later once again Cheryl felt the convulsions of a man satisfying himself within her body.

Again she waited until this additional man had cooled and rolled from her, and it was then she realized Raymond was absent. She didn't mind, if he was done with her it was all right, and, after all, for the last five minutes she'd been fairly busy with his partner.

"Baby, you are fantastic!" Carl exclaimed.

"Thank you," she said, "and you, too. You and Raymond made me come at least a dozen times! How did you get so good?"

"Oh, I practice a lot."

"With women my age?" Cheryl was feeling, perhaps, as if she was robbing a cradle, not that she minded. Both men had the advantage of youth, a high sex drive.

"Well, yes..."

"Tell me," she encouraged. "How did you two get into this? I would think you'd be after younger girls."

"A couple of years ago," Carl explained, "I was sitting in a Georgetown bar, minding my own business, listening to the band, when this blond cougar bought me a drink. We talked for awhile, and then she leaned over and said, 'I love to fuck hot black dudes,' and that's verbatim, and then she asked me if I wanted to fuck her. I said sure, and then she told me her old man liked to watch. He was on the other side of the bar, and I said I didn't mind, so we went off to their place, and she showed me a great time while he just sat there.

"It's a fantasy a lot of white women and their husbands have, to be screwed by a black guy, and most of the time it's great, they're really hot for it. That first couple were swingers, and they invited me back and after a few months they got me an invitation to a house party in Reston, and it seemed like the girls were queuing up to get screwed. Then one time, a couple I was seeing a lot of asked me if I had a friend, they had a couple who wanted to get in on it, so I asked Raymond if he was interested, and that was the first time we had these two white girls, swapping them around while their old men took pictures. Both of us like doing this, and so when we found out about this place we got our friends to vouch for us, and here we are."

"Have you gotten much so far?" Cheryl asked.

"We just got in yesterday. Last night we met this really small blond, she took us back to her room, her husband was there in a cock cage, a real cuckold scene. He had to sit there while we took turns with her." Cheryl wondered if he had been the man she gave a blow job to in the pool.

Raymond returned then, his hands full of three bottles of water, two beers and a strawberry daiquiri. They sipped the drinks -- Cheryl drank almost her whole bottle of water at once, she was dehydrated from the delightful exertion, they discussed more about the curiosities of sex with multiple partners and no hang-ups, and then Cheryl was overwhelmed with a desire for another taste of Raymond's cock. That, of course, led to more involved activities, and Cheryl let both men have her again, even though she knew she was past the need, and perhaps even the possibility of further orgasms. Fifteen minutes later Raymond orgasmed into her mouth, Carl tried but his gun didn't seem to be loaded.

A few minutes later they said they wanted to get back, one last kiss from each of them, a cop of a breast, a hand fondling an ass, a 'perhaps-we'll-see-you-around' Cheryl knew was less than heartfelt, and the boys were off.

She took another swim, letting the muscles of her groin relax, she could feel the effects of the continued sex, almost unpleasant, but festive just the same. From the shadows of the underbrush, a man surreptitiously snapped photos of her. They would appear on the internet weeks later, but since her face from such a distance was indistinguishable, she wouldn't have cared had she known. She took a walk along the beach, one couple was making slow, measured love, seventy yards further an orgy was in progress, five men and three women. A call invited her to join them, but since her desires had been well sated she just waved and moved on.

At the landing she showered the residue of sand, sea water, and semen from her skin, got back into her clothes, and caught the ferry to the mainland. The trip to Passionné Island had been a whale of a success, and even if she never returned, she would remember the key with wonderment at her boldness.

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Chapter 6

That night Cheryl dined alone. No one invited her to sit with them, none of her growing list of compatriots seemed to be around. And somehow, it was okay; on this, the third night of her four night package, she was for the first time feeling a little sated. That's not to say if an appealing man asked her to dance she'd say 'no,' but if it didn't happen, it was all right as well.

After dinner, she headed for the jazz club, was delighted to find Steve and Alexis there. A couple nights before they'd met here, Cheryl had been mildly attracted to them. They'd seemed relatively cautious and yet moderately experienced at the same time. She waved to the couple, Alexis invited her to sit with them on a couch, listen to the music.

"How have you been?" asked Steve.

"Good. And you guys? Alexis, you got a bit of a tan."

"The sun down here really burns you up, doesn't it? I put sunblock on at midnight last night!"

"You've been having fun?" Steve asked.

"My share," she agreed, and then she smiled, "and probably someone else's share, as well."

Alexis talked over Steve, who was sitting in the middle. "I can't believe what's happened down here. First there's the ocean and the pool and all that - we went snorkeling today - and then there's... well..."

"The sex?" Cheryl smirked.

"Yes. God. After we met you the other night, we were just sitting around and this great couple from New York came over. It was just all around attraction, we went over to their room and... Unfortunately, it was their last night here, but we got their email, so you never know. Maybe we'll see the Rockettes next Christmas. And then we went to the bar with the loud rock music last night, have you been there? Well, we started chatting with this single guy and I said what the hell, so we invited him to the room. He and I went for a couple of hours, Steve's got some really good videos." Cheryl thought that Alexis, this cute little blond, was both shy and proud at the same time. "How about you?"

Cheryl mentally reviewed her sins of the past three days, wondered if they were too personal to confide with this couple. But, at the same time, Alexis seemed only too eager to reveal her indiscretions (and of her husband) so why not. And Cheryl found she wanted to brag.

"Well, let's see," she started. "Wednesday when I got down here, I was lying on the beach, and this really great guy, Wes, picked me up, I invited him into my room. At 5:00 in the afternoon! Later that night I found a single guy, but he was a bit of a dud.

"Yesterday, I went catamaraning with Wes and his wife and we went around the headland and they knew a reef where we went snorkeling. Then, they invited me back to their room and we had a threesome."

"With you and another girl?" Alexis asked, less than innocently.

"Yep. Then last night I bumped into this group, two guys and a girl. They all live together, she's in love with both of them. They have one of those overwater bungalows and we swam in the ocean late at night." Cheryl quickly decided not to tell about giving a blow job to the man at the pool, it just seemed way too whorish.

"Today, I went over to Passionné Island."

"Was it great?" Alexis excitedly interrupted.

"Fantastic! I met a couple of young guys, college students actually, and we body surfed."

Steve broke out into a loud guffaw. "That may be the best entendre I've ever heard! I'm trying to get Alexis to go over there."

"I'm not sure I want to be completely nude with a whole bunch of people around."

"It's not like that at all," Cheryl explained. "For all the land there, there's not many people. And there's no law that says you have to go nude there, I guess you could keep your bottoms on if you wanted to."

"Alexis hasn't even taken her top off in public yet. I keep telling her she should, she's got great tits!"

Cheryl glanced at the other woman's bosom, she was leaning forward in her sundress and the fabric swept around her cleavage. She looked fairly small but quite shapely inside the built in bra. Quickly, Cheryl felt a flicker of desire, wondered what they would feel like.

The band played one of Alexis' favorite tunes. "Dance with me, Steve," she pleaded.

"You know I'm a terrible dancer."

"I'll dance with you," Cheryl volunteered.

A quick look from the other woman. Was it caution? Rejection? Desire? "All right."

The two women approached the tiny dance floor, not the only couple, not even the only pair of women. They settled together, and after a few minutes Cheryl felt Alexis' body tight against hers. "I envy you," Alexis said, "You're my hero."

"Now why do you say that?"

"Well, you told us you came down here to get into trouble, and you just went and did it. You have so much confidence. I'd love to do something like that, but I'm much too cautious."

"Well, the guys just keep throwing themselves at me," Cheryl laughed.

Alexis reached up, intimately slid a strand of hair from Cheryl's face, then looked deep into her eyes. Cheryl knew what was coming, wanted it, but let Alexis take the lead. There on the dance floor, they stood and kissed, woman to woman. Slow, a modicum of tongue, and then it was over. They walked back, hand in hand to the couch.