The Eye of the Hurricane Ch. 01

Prologue -

My wife and I are an East Coast American couple. I'm in my early 50's and Maggie is 41, married for 20 years. We have been coming to Club Orient, a well-known naturist resort on the French side of the Caribbean island of St.Martin's during January each year, and while we enjoy naturism and appreciate the innate sensuality of the human form, never once has anything even remotely sexual with anyone else ever happened at Club O. All that was about to change, and change dramatically, in the course of a single night.

This true story (allowing for the faults of memory) and it happened because we felt the need to come down to Orient Beach for an extra holiday this past year, and decided to try it in late summer, despite the ever-present danger of significant "weather." Little did we know that we were setting ourselves up to be caught in the path of Omar, the category three hurricane that struck the island in the late summer. The experience I am about to relate only happened because of the situation that unfolded because of the nudist resort's need to arrange safer accommodations for guests during that time of panic.

When club management got word to the guests that the big blow would force doubling (even tripling) up into the more protected concrete buildings. We didn't want to double with anyone - no way, no how. My wife Maggie, although comfortable with shucking the clothes on the beach, did not fancy being in such quarters with another naturist couple, and asked me to do all I could to dissuade anyone from bunking in with us.

Forced Company. The Uncomfortable Situation

Nevertheless, that's exactly what happened. We thought at first that we were very lucky that our assigned villa partners at least spoke English, but thought that we would likely be in for a very boring night. Tom and Holly were from the US Midwest and were a couple we had spoken to only briefly on the beach. I had noticed that Holly was rather modest in public, wearing a sheer Pareo wrap around the resort, but she was obviously a nicely built middle aged woman. My wife too is beautifully built and always has been a reserved person around the Club grounds except when bathing in the Ocean. Holly's husband Tom was an even 6 feet tall, well built guy with salt and pepper hair. As to me, I am a pretty average guy, 5'10", with an ok build. I generally am totally sans textiles from the moment we arrive at the resort.

When Tom and Holly arrived at our door and told us that we were to be house mates, my wife rolled her eyes and said a silent "damn it." Tom asked whether we were fixed for booze and food and we replied that we bought out La Boutique before it closed down, so we had enough to feed a small army. Tom originally came wearing a pair of shorts and sandals, and Holly was wearing an orange Pareo covering top and bottom. We settled in and shared small talk for about an hour.

All the while, I was thinking, "Boy, this is awkward. How are we going to survive the next couple days in here with these two?"

The only remotely sexual remark thus far was Tom asking casually, "so what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?"

I laughed and said something lame, like, "we'll manage something."

My wife microwaved some lunch items for us all, and I fixed rum and coke all around. During lunch a light sprinkle of rain began outside and everyone started to loosen up a bit, and Tom asked whether we minded them shucking their textiles.

Being an introvert and never very good with awkward moments, I blurted out, "Of course we don't mind, do we dear?"

My wife looked darts at me, but our American couple began disrobing. For the first time I saw Holly's breasts and even though I am normally able to restrain my "enthusiasm" on the beach, my mouth opened a little.

She was a lovely 36A at least, but her breasts were perfectly matched for her petite frame, and her nipples were rosy and firm. In the back of my mind a part of me was thinking how much I wanted those nipple in my mouth. Tom had nothing on under his shorts and I felt my wife's hand grip my leg as they fell down around his ankles.

I sensed that Maggie liked what she saw despite her usual New England reserve. I continue to furtively "not stare" as Holly unwrapped. When her dark brown pubic hair was fully visible, I bit my lower lip to remind myself to ignore her beauty. She caught me looking nonetheless and instead of giving me an angry look, simply smiled back.

Getting Comfortable with Our 'Guests'

Tom asked whether we were planning on getting more comfortable, and although at the moment I was definitely "uncomfortable" in my shorts thinking of Holly, I said sure and began to peel my shirt off, kick off my sandals and lowered my shorts and Y fronts. My initial "excitement" began to flag as I distinctly felt Holly was apprising my body with her eyes. My wife Maggie still refused to take anything off and folded her arms resolutely.

We all had a second round of rum and cokes, and I (perhaps unconsciously) poured a pony and a jigger of Rum into Maggie's glass, and only a jigger into everyone else's. Tom had brought an iPod player, which he plugged in and then proceeded to crank up the tunes, suggesting it would be fun to dance a bit. With no hesitation whatever, Tom went over to Maggie and took her hand. They went out the patio door and onto the patio, leaving it open to hear the music. Beyond them, a steady rain fell. Maggie kicked off her shoes and they danced. The first tune was an enthusiastic Samba, and Maggie, a wonderful dancer really got into it, perhaps as a remedy to the tension she was feeling.

As the first song ended, I gulped nervously and walked over to Holly, and we began a slow dance. Her arms were around my neck and the feeling of her breasts against my chest made my heart race and against my will, my erection became both obvious and unstoppable.

I tried to make some distance between up but Holly, whom I had previously regarded as being cold and standoffish pressed herself into me, saying, "It's alright Jack. In understand you're a man. Let your feelings go."

Her hips swayed to the slow samba (I think it was a Jobim tune) and I ached as I felt her pussy hair and her firm tummy grinding playfully against me. I felt the irresistible urge to touch her lips with mine, as with her left arm she moved my right much further down her back. I could feel the soft, gentle swell of her bum, and quite out of character, my hand moved down to caress her there, then moved up and down as she began to nibble my neck. After a couple minutes of this, I pulled back and told her that I thought this was probably wrong, and we should stop.

She looked up into my eyes and asked me, "Really Jack? Do you really want to stop? Does Maggie?"

I had completely forgotten about Maggie and Tom. Tom had opened the sliding door and they were dancing on the patio, protected from the rain as it fell outside our little safe haven. Although Maggie was still fully dressed, she was enjoying Tom's smooth moves and it was then I noticed that his hand covered her fully clothed buns and she obviously was not protesting.

When the third or forth tune ended, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Tom whispering something to Maggie. On looking more carefully, I noticed she was stroking his hair and dancing quite intimately, more so than on the rare occasions we danced at clubs. She nodded her head and looked shyly down. I know that look after 30 years of marriage, and what it usually means when she gives the look to me. Walking through the door, they came back in from the patio.

Tom said, "it's getting nasty out there, we both got a bit soaked. Maggie, would you mind drying me off?"

I was slightly surprised when she said, "Not at all."

She grabbed one of the yellow beach towels and gently began to dry him off.

Tom said (rather matter-of-factly), "Maggie, you should get out of those clothes. You're completely soaked." Surprising me, Maggie agreed.

Holly looked over at them and said, "Tom, be a gentleman and help her," all the while holding onto me tightly and dancing slowly to hide my growing erection and her swollen nipples.

She whispered to me, "Jack, don't worry, we are both 'lifestylers' and Tom is a real gentleman. He won't force the situation beyond what Maggie will allow."