Passing Strange Ch. 01: Lust Goddess

We find a pair of lounge chairs that have been dragged out of sight in the palms. I spread out the old blanket on one chair and lower Wendy into it while I recline in the other. I've barely caught my breath when that wonderful symphony of swishes, squishes and pops reaches my ears. I look over and find Wendy with her legs splayed apart. Her yellow thong lies nearby in the sand, replaced by busy fingers.

"Come on, Daddy. Don't you feel a horny urge?" she asks.

Actually, I am feeling strangely horny. Not at all what I'd expect twenty-minutes after the most powerful orgasm of my life. But there's no denying nature, and I release my cock, lean back, and close my eyes. I'm fantasizing about the Lust Goddess, replaying the image of her licking my cum off her lips over and over again, when something warm and moist and remarkably tight engulfs my cock. Wendy is astride my hips, riding me cowgirl style.

She might only be eighteen, but tonight Wendy is a love-making prodigy. A Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart of sex. Tiny rhythmic contractions draw me deeper with every thrust. Her fingers are everywhere at once, finding erogenous zones I never knew existed. At some point, I stop wondering how and why and surrender myself to Wendy's remarkable skills. When we finally cum, it is together, and our voices merge into a high-pitched howl like I once heard from a distant pack of California coyotes.

When the rosy Caribbean dawn peeks through the foliage, Wendy is still sleeping naked and curled on top of me, her head nestled into my chest. We're partially covered by her pareo. My back feels as if I've been sleeping on the fiberglass slats, which I have. It takes a good five minutes of naked stretches to get half-way limber.

Wendy never really wakes up as I use that old First-Aid standby, the "human-crutch carry," to get her down the deserted beach, past the infinity pool, and across what seems like a mile of rolling grass lawn to her bungalow. Laurie is sleeping quietly as I tuck Wendy into bed, and back silently out the door, pulling it closed softly behind me.

When I reach my own bungalow, my memories of what happened in the coconut grove are a confused jumble. But I can't forget a night of sex unlike anything I've ever experienced, and with the most improbable of partners. An eighteen-year-old girl with serious Daddy issues. And the spooky truth is that that I think I may be falling in love. But is my affection for Wendy, or some magic power of the Lust Goddess. A spell that transforms ordinary sex into a mystical epiphany. It had all the sensations of a night on Ecstasy, but without the drug.

I look at my watch. Just enough time for two hours sleep and a five-minute shower before meeting Gina for breakfast to continue her MLB survey course.

But, of course, all I can think about is Wendy. Sweet fuckin' Wendy. And the Lust Goddess.

It isn't until much later that I remember the old blanket. Did I leave it on the lounger? Possibly. But the more I think about it, I'm almost positive that when I looked back at the loungers as we left, there was no old Greek blanket anywhere to be seen.

###

Gina and Johnny are already in the beach-front restaurant when I arrive sleepy and starved. After two lobster-tail omelettes, three cups of coffee and six fresh croissants with marmalade, I'm a new man. And Gina is speechless.

"What did you do last night to work up an appetite like that?" she asks, sounding more like a mother than a lover.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I reply.

"Try me!" she says in a stern voice that gets Johnny's attention. He looks from Gina to me and back to his mom, obviously not used to hearing her talk to a stranger in this tone. Seeing Johnny's confusion, she laughs and tells him, "Don't worry, honey, I'm not going to send Rob to his room without breakfast. I mean, what's the point? He's already eaten enough to last all week."

Johnny's look of alarm melts into a relaxed smile. I change the subject by telling him that I saw a batting cage out by the playing fields and can toss him some practice pitches before dinner. Gina's sexy-but-vulnerable smile returns full bore.

We drop off Johnny at the Mini Camp. He already seems to be warming up to the idea that hanging out at home might not be as great as he thought. Inside the Mimi Camp area, a dozen kids are scaling a jungle-gym version of the Matterhorn. We watch for a moment as Johnny joins the other little mountain climbers and soon blends into a sea of scuffling arms and legs and torsos.

I resist the urge to say, "Great kid!" Or some equally inane cliche. Instead, I launch into today's lesson, a brief history of the AL Eastern Division. I'm too busy talking to pay attention to where we're wandering. Gina and I are equally surprised to find ourselves at the nude beach. Although it's only about 10 AM, the scenery is already getting interesting.

The main attraction is a circle of chairs with two cute, albeit somewhat chubby, nude college girls surrounded by six guys with rippling abs and semi-erections. 'You go, girls, I think. Way to get a jump on the competition.' I figure it will be hours before the young foxes start leaving their dens.

"What's that," I ask Gina. "Did I just hear you say 'yummm'?"

"No," she tells me, not taking her eyes of the buff guys. "But I might be thinking it."

"Too bad we don't have our bathing suits," I say, rather stupidly.

"Why?" Gina asks with more of a smirk than a smile.

"Think you can learn without clothes?" I ask.

"I don't know why not," she replies, a naughty sparkle in her eye.

Realizing I'll never be able to compete with a crowd of college jocks, I drag two beach chairs about ten feet back into the partial privacy of the palm grove. Rather shyly, we turn back-to-back and undress. As we face each other, we break out laughing because we are trying so hard not to look like we're checking each other out, while what we're doing is completely checking each other out.

"OK, dammit," Gina giggles. "I'm just going to close my eyes and stand here while I count to one hundred. Look as hard as you want. Then it's my turn."

That's exactly what we do. Gina is tall and willowy, without an ounce of extra weight anywhere, except the tiniest lower tummy roll when she bends at the waist. Her tits are small and pert, her waist narrow, and her hips and butt almost boyishly thin. Just before she finishes counting to one-hundred, I give a little whistle of appreciation that makes her smile.

While it's my turn, I don't keep my eyes entirely closed, and I see Gina paying especially close attention to my pecs, butt, and cock, which thankfully is at a half-mast position. Neither flaccid nor inappropriately erect.

Before we continue with baseball, Gina wants to know what she missed last night. I tell her about the Reggae band, making out with Wendy and wandering back into the palm grove. She insists I share all every detail, and the more she presses me, the more comes back. Especially the scene with the French girl and her boyfriend.

It's hard to tell if Gina is feeling shocked or just lascivious. But she digs out every embarrassing recollection of the strange encounter out of me. Down to the way Wendy used her fingers to touch herself, and how I felt about cumming between the beautiful French girl's parted lips (insanely aroused).

Finally, Gina looks me in the eye. "I don't know if this is some kind of weird joke, Rob. But for a horny mom whose only lover for the past twelve months has been my own fingers, all this talk is making me very, very moist. Let's find this clearing."

At Club Med, there's no need for wallets or cash, and the only thing either of us have in our pockets beside sunscreen lotion are unmarked room key cards. So we fold our clothes and leave them on the loungers, and walk barefoot into palm grove.

We haven't gone more than twenty feet when, like a beloved Yankee used to say, I experience deja vu all over again. By the way she looks at me, Gina hears it too.

Faint moans interspersed with several seconds of silence. Like last night, the deeper we walk into the grove, the louder they become. Finally, we reach the edge of the clearing. Sitting with her back against one of the fallen trees is a naked girl. Thankfully, not my Lust Goddess, but a redhead in her early twenties whose face and breasts are awash in freckles. Kneeling between her legs is a second woman who is obviously doing something with her tongue and fingers.

"Oh, my!" Gina exclaims before she can catch herself. In the light of day, there's nowhere to hide as the redhead's eyes snap open and focus on us. For a moment, she seems inclined to forget about our presence, and I can see her eyes beginning to drift shut.

At the last second, they snap open again, and she taps her lover on the shoulder and points in our direction. The second woman peers at us and there is a moment of whispered discussion before they both hop over the fallen trunk like a pair of cotton-tailed rabbits, and vanish into the grove.

Gina finally takes her hand off her mouth and bursts out giggling. "I'm sorry, Rob. I honestly thought you made the whole thing up just to get me out here with you." As we walk closer to the spot the girls vacated, I notice something peeking from under the sand. The old Greek blanket.

"Wow! Just like you described," Gina says.

"Have a seat," I offer, once I've brushed off the sand. Gina gracefully lowers herself onto the blanket, somehow managing to keep her legs demurely pressed together the whole time.

Too late for one thing, though. During our sixty-second you-show-me-yours, I already discovered that the neatly trimmed strip above her pussy has the same fine blond hair that tumbles past Gina's shoulders.

Gina leans back against the palm trunk, takes in a deep breath, and then exhales with a long and sensual sigh. She slowly opens her legs, looking up at me from under heavy-lids. Her comment about being 'very, very moist' is an absurd understatement.

"Babe," she begins in a whisper. "You know what those girls were doing? Do you think..."

Gina doesn't need to say more. I'm already kneeling between her outstretched thighs, my fingertips moving slowly along her creamy white flesh. Like Wendy, every touch of my fingertips seems to ignite a mini orgasm. Each time my fingers caress her, Gina's thigh muscles contract and shiver and a fresh river of clear liquid gushes down the inside of her leg.

I gently roll my tongue along her outer labia, and Gina's breath catches in her throat. Her musky aroma is like some powerful pheromone, urging my tongue to explore faster and deeper while at the same time directing every drop of available blood to my throbbing cock.

After tracing her outer lips, I slip my tongue between them and work my way into her vagina. Gina responds instantly, her back arches, her hips thrust into my jaw, and her muscles go into a series of spasms that contract like a vice around my tongue. I'm sure she's also mewling and moaning, but with her thighs clamping the sides of my head, my world is strangely silent.

As the contractions gradually recede, I seek out her clit and begin massaging it. Another earth-shaking orgasm engulfs Gina, and this time her entire body twists and convulses like a Pentecostal speaking in tongues.

It takes a long time for Gina to recover, and when she does, I can tell by the lovelight in her eyes, that I am the new focus of her affections. "Oh... my... God..." she finally says. "Oh, my, God!"

"You never..." I prompt her.

"My, God, No! Never. Ever. Nothing even close," she sighs.

"I know," I tell her.

"Oh, poor, baby!" she exclaims, sitting up and reaching for my pulsing cock. I push her gently away, then swing myself into a 69-position.

My cock slides instantly into the warm Nirvana of Gina's mouth. As I'm lowering my head between her thighs, I glimpse movement at the edge of the clearing. It's the six young studs and the two chubby girls, and they are all masturbating like caged gorillas. I pause long enough to wave them closer, if they want. 'What's fair is fair.'

It takes only minutes before Gina is orgasming again, if anything, even more powerfully than before. A fountain of pure girl cum anoints my tongue and lips and cheeks. Then I respond with a fountain of my own, pumping my cum into her mouth until I hear Gina's muffled moans become a desperate gagging sound.

Reluctantly, I withdraw from the ecstatic embrace of her lips and tongue. When I open my eyes, I realize our audience has moved within a few yards. The two girls have collapsed to their knees, hands still between their legs. Most of the guys have thrust their hips forward with white strings of ejaculate still spraying from their cocks.

I help Gina get unsteadily to her feet, turning her away from our audience as she struggles to stand. Then I reach down and grab the edge of the Greek blanket. Once again, it is trapped under the fallen tree, but with several forceful tugs, I manage to rip it free. We wander lost in the palm grove for a few minutes until we eventually emerge onto the beach, not far from our lounge chairs. Gina hangs from my neck with both arms and walks unsteadily as if still in some deep trance. I lower her into her chair, and within minutes we are both sound asleep.

The cool caress of the afternoon trade wind summons me back to consciousness. My watch says 4:15.

On the third try, I succeed in waking Gina. When her eyes open, she looks at me with an adoration that almost breaks my heart because it's not really me she's fallen in love with. It's the magic of the Lust Goddess.

I show Gina my watch, and eventually reality comes flooding back, along with the inconvenient fact that the Mini Camp pickup time was 4 pm.

Pan's Blanket is where I left it, tossed on top of our clothes. An hour later, I jam it into my room safe and arm the heavy door with a personal four-digit code, even though I'd bet my left nut it will be gone when I return.

###

How did I hook up with Wendy and Gina within 24-hours?

Well, that is complicated. For now I just chalk it up to an improbable alignment. The intersection of sex and myth and magic.

Not that it couldn't have happened anyway. Wendy was going to satisfy her Daddy fetish one way or another, and as one of the few older guys around during Spring Break Week, I didn't have much competition. Gina was there for the same reason as me, and I was the one guy who could help with her baseball-obsessed kid.

Wendy and I were drunk, horny and looking for a little privacy when we stumbled into something that sent our libidos into overdrive, our inhibitions on vacation, and amplified the sensations of arousal and orgasm to a level of such unbearable ecstasy that we were exhausted and confused for hours afterward. There was also a beautiful French-speaking girl. The Lust Goddess of Martinique. She must be the one weaving the spell. Wendy and I were her willing sex puppets.

It was the same with Gina, except we started out stone-cold sober at 10 AM, and there was a girl with flaming red curls who decided not to get involved. But our arousal soon reached a roaring boil.

It all happened in a secluded palm grove behind the Club Med nude beach. If there's feng shui for casual sex, this place is at the epicenter. And there's something else. The complicated part. I found an old rug with an embroidered image of the Greek god Pan — half man, half goat, and perpetually toasty.

There is magic in that rug as well. Without a doubt.

So there you have it. The perfect conjunction of sex and myth and magic.

I can't help feeling there's more to it than random luck. When your senses come alive like this, in ways you've never experienced, there has to be a purpose. Some kind of meaning. I want to know. Need to know. But so far, it's like a Rubik's Cube. Every time I think I'm close to the solution, the next twist takes me to another dead end.

Anyway, I'm still trying to sort it all out when I rejoin Gina and her son Johnny at the batting cage where I promised to play baseball with Johnny. After swinging through a few dozen pitches, he runs off to explore the playing fields. Which leaves Gina and I to explore what went down this morning.

"I'm still shaking like a leaf," she confides.

"And wet as a mountain stream?" I ask.

"That, too!" she laughs.

"I wish it were all me. But it's not," I confess. "It's something else. Something about that clearing in the palm grove."

"Can we bottle it up and take it home?"

"I doubt that." I don't mention that I already tried. Twice. The second time was after we returned, and I locked the Pan Blanket in my bungalow safe. I wagered my left testicle it would be gone by dinner. An impulsive bet that I'm beginning to regret.

"When can we go back?" she asks softly, folding her fingers between mine.

"After dinner. But there's one thing..."

"I know. Wendy. Will she mind... sharing you?"

"Hardly. But I better warn you, she swings both ways."

"She told me," Gina sighs. "She wants the three of us to fuck."

"I thought I noticed the two of you flirting at dinner."

"She's a very alluring young woman. And I've never been with another woman," Gina sighs. "Well, not since high school."

"High school?"

"Catholic school sleepovers. Raging hormones. We called it 'make-out practice.' So we'd know what to expect with a boy. My friend and I got a little carried away and had our first orgasms."

"And you've always wondered?"

"Yes," Gina whispers. "And there's something so sensual about Wendy, even though..."

"She's young enough to be your daughter. I know. She calls me her 'Daddy.'"

"So, if I join you tonight?"

"You and Wendy are going to hook up. I guarantee."

"And you, Rob?"

"It's every guy's fantasy. Two beautiful women."

"But you have feelings for her. I can tell."

"Perhaps. But it's very fucked up. Her 'Daddy' thing."

"It could just be her way of dealing with masculinity."

"Maybe. But I think she really wants a Daddy."

"Daddy?" we hear Johnny ask from behind us.

"Yes, Sweetie," Gina says, giving me a conspiratorial look. "We were just saying your Daddy should spend more time playing baseball with you."

"That would be cool," Johnny replies with wide smile.

###

At 7 PM, I knock on Wendy's door. She pulls me inside, wrestles me onto her bed, and has my shorts pulled past my knees before I can object.

"What about Laurie?" I ask, looking at her roommate, who is grinning at us like the Cheshire Cat.

"You can do Laurie, after you fuck me," Wendy says, which isn't at all what I had in mind. Eventually, I convince Wendy to put on her pareo and go to dinner, with a promise that afterward we'll go directly to the palm grove.

Gina joins us, this time without Johnny who's spending the night with a new friend. While I'm talking to a French couple seated with us, Gina and Wendy do a lot of whispering and giggling. After too many carafes of wine, the three of us wander past the long beach-front veranda, and follow the rising full moon to the edge of the palm grove.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask them.

No reply. But they gaze into each other's eyes. Then, without a word, they are kissing. With Gina almost six-feet tall, and Wendy barely five, it's an interesting exercise in feminine contortion. But their lips lock in a deep, soulful tongue kiss. When they come up for air, Gina takes my arm and whispers, "Don't worry, Rob. You're going to love this."

Why wouldn't I?

We enter the grove with enough moonlight filtering through the palm fronds to easily find our way. Very symbolic, all this dappled darkness and moonlight flowing like a restless river beneath our feet.

Darkness and light. Mix the two and what do you have? That is the eternal question, isn't it? Where is the sweet spot between guilt and innocence? The Goldilocks zone where good and evil cancel each other like a pair of equivalent expressions in life's complex equation. The place where Yin and Yang attain perfect harmony.