Tight White Bikini Panties

I've been having nightmares that I can't remember. But they always end where they begin... My wife and Jamaica.

A strong gust of wind blew in and sure enough my wife's dress whipped up and there it was for all the world to see, her magnificent sweet full tan ass in tiny tight bright white bikini panties. That's all it took to draw attention and initiate the beginning of my troubles.

Two guys behind me took in the magical event and decided to make my girl their conquest. Unbeknown to me they followed us through the day and to our hotel. That evening they met us at the bar coincidently, introducing themselves as Max and Juan.

After a few drinks they had our trust and took us on a tour through the city's night life. They appeared no less than a pair of fine local businessmen, photographers by trade. It was my wife's photogenic appeal that caught their eye. Our tour concluded at their studio where they persisted on photographing my wife. It was quite flattering at first, but soon took a graphic turn.

I was drunk and having a good time up until the point when realizing my wife was down to her white bikini panties and skimpy black camisole. She was absolutely gorgeous for a grandmother of two, mother of three and wife of thirty plus years. I was horny as hell and into the moment before snapping that these guys were taking the shoot to another level. I sprang from my chair to put a stop to it, but the booze and pot sent me right back down. Evidently, I had to much of good time.

Max was about my age and Juan look to be about the age of my youngest going into college. Both were very dark black men, native Caribbean's. Both were athletically built, like chiseled hard bodies and in far better shape than me. Max was bald and Juan had a mop of dreadlocks. They spoke with heavy accents but were well versed in English.

Max coax me to behave myself and relax. The stuff in body will take a while to wear off. I'm in no condition at my age to over excite myself. My wife is safe nothing will happen that she doesn't want. She's just having fun. She needs and deserves the attention. Let her enjoy it. She isn't so high that she can't decide for herself. The choice now is hers.

He was right about one thing I was in no condition to object against any unwanted advances they may make towards her. In my present condition I couldn't help myself. Juan came over and whispered to Max. Then they carried me off to a room in the back and put me to bed there. My wife came and told me to sleep it off, everything is going to be alright, Max and Juan will take care of her until I sober. This is her choice.

They left together. Her between them in white bikini panties and camisole only. Then I blacked out. I had several dreams, three distinctively about waking and blacking out again. I didn't immediately recall the details but when at last I woke it was to find myself back at the hotel with a hell of a headache and the wife with luggage packed and ready.

Our five day stay in Jamaica was done and I'd apparently slept through it. Actually, my wife confirmed I'd gotten alcohol poison and was laid up at the hotel. But thank god I recovered and was healthy for the trip back home.

We returned home and were back into our routines by the weekend. That's when the dreams started and the flashbacks. Each time I woke in a cold sweat. At first to no memory but then bits and pieces started coming to me. They all started with me awaking in the back room seeing my wife walk away in those hot tight white bikini panties and now without camisole. I follow after her moving into a bright light and that's where I wake up.

I shared my dreams with my wife which she found amusing. She told me those guys were so nice and made the shoot such fun. She'd showed me all the pics taken before we left for home. And said they'd gotten more but all was cut short once I was discovered ill. She was worried sick over me and never left my side despite doctor and staff suggestion to relax and rest herself as my illness wasn't serious.

Time past but my dreams persisted to no end. Now inaudible sounds of talking and laugher were occupying them. I sought help secretly never telling my wife. Those great minds had no answers beyond my own sub-conscience disturbance. Then when all seem lost, I caught an ad online regarding a witch doctor that help people with my type of problem. After reading reviews and researching I set up an appointment.

It was a small rundown place on the outskirts of town in the poorest of neighborhood. There I met the Shaman Swahili from some unknown place in Jamaica. He worked his practice out a small room of the house. He knew my problem before I explained. He said I'd been hexed. A spell has suppressed my memory. However, it was too strong to break but he could get around it by sending me into a deep trance and narrate the hidden events to him. When I wake, I'll still won't remember my dreams. Be now he will know and repeat all that was revealed.

That evening old Swahili did some mumbo jumbo that put me to sleep and dream. When I awoke the memory of my dreams were once again limited to my wife's white bikini panties. But now the Shaman assured me he knew all that occurred. However, before he could do so I'd have to swear never to reveal it, never to act on it. That was the price for this knowledge under such strong spell.

I told him I'll promise but if I break it what will happen. He said if I promise then I won't be able to break it. Its spell is stronger than the hex to my memory. That evening he retold to me the events that I revealed to him. Beginning where it all began or rather where my dreams usually end... My wife walking off in only tight white bikini panties.

To be continued.