Vacation for Four Ch. 01

The restaurants required clothing for all meals, so we changed into shorts and shirts, or, in the case of the women, bikini tops. We got in line for the authentic Caribbean seafood restaurant, and noticed that most of the other women wore bikini tops, but one or two sported sheer cover-ups, with no top underneath, and I made a note to pick up one apiece for Claire and Rita.

The wait was only a couple of minutes, and we were early enough that there were many tables to choose from. The tables were spread out with plenty of space between, and the ones for couples lined the perimeter of the dining area. The remainder were for six or more, and two huge round tables sat in semi-private alcoves, with chairs for twelve. We took one of the six-seaters; half the couples' tables were taken, but we were feeling very sociable anyway. I held Claire's chair for her, and she settled in happily. Bill sat on the other side of her, and I grabbed the other one by her side. Rita slid into the remaining one by me, leaving space for a couple to join us if they wished.

Just after the hors d'oeuvres came to the table, consisting of tempura seafood and shrimp cocktails, another couple walked up to the table, and asked whether they could join us. The man was thickly muscled, roughly shaped like a fireplug, with dark features and jet black hair. His moustache was well-trimmed, and it look like he had shaved just before coming down for dinner. He wore a very loud Hawaiian shirt, a brilliant cobalt blue, which, upon closer inspection, displayed women in various states of undress reclining in martini glasses or wrapped passionately around palm trees or each other.

All eyes in the room, however, were drawn to his companion. Claire and I immediately recognized her from watching the pool earlier. Her hair was platinum blonde and hung just past her shoulders. Her features were exotic, and she smiled in welcome, as if we were joining her at their table, not the other way around. An aqua sarong was knotted at one hip, and I couldn't tell if there was anything beneath it. Her breasts were firm and petite, barely concealed by the matching sheer wrap she wore around her shoulders. Her face was the kind that was young until it would someday suddenly become old. She could be in her twenties or fifties, or anywhere in between.

The man spoke first. "I'm Sam, and this is my wife Sam."

She smiled regally as she pulled out her own chair. "He loves to say that. It's Samuel," nodding to her right, "and I'm Samantha."

Unruffled, Claire rose slightly and offered her hand, which the female Sam took in a friendly flourish, shaking it twice before sitting down next to Bill, who I saw was admiring every one of her curves. We made our introductions and settle back onto our chairs.

Claire grinned. "We noticed you earlier. We caught your show poolside."

Samantha looked back at her, a mild expression on her face. "Good. We love this place, and love to let our hair down." She shook her silvery mane in emphasis. "We noticed you first." Claire squinted for a moment, and Samantha forged onward. "Samuel was one of the men Sarah was blowing. I saw you strip your clothes off after watching, and we just had to meet you. We thought you looked fun." I found myself wondering about the mysterious fellatrix Sarah, more than Samantha's definition of fun.

She turned to Bill and touched the back of his hand. "Would you like to join your wife and us in the hot tub?" I suspected that Claire by herself would have been just fine, with or without anyone else present.

Bill chuckled. "I'd love to, but we're not married. The guy on the other side is her husband."

Samuel turned to Samantha. "You're right! They are fun!" His voice was Mediterranean and vaguely aristocratic, certainly well off if they were regulars.

Rita finally spoke, putting her hand on my arm. "He's also great in bed! They both are..."

Samantha grinned broadly. "So, all four of you are...together? How...modern."

Over dinner, the Two Sams regaled us with tales of their prior visits, twice annually over the past six years. He was particularly detailed about his successful pursuit of various iterations of pussy here, and, he emphasized, only here. One of his stories involved five women, a hot tub, and pink champagne on ice. Another was a replay of Sarah, apparently another regular, involved in a threesome with the two of them. They used the regular trips to add plenty of spice to their lovemaking, indulging their whims and sinful desires, and barely keeping their hands and other parts off each other the months in between.

Samantha averred that she sometimes joined, sometimes watched, depending on her mood, and she clearly enjoyed doing both. She was openly bisexual, which Claire had already noted, and was open to anyone, but only a certain type of anyone, in her bed or inside her pussy. Rita and my wife looked at her with renewed appreciation, while Bill and I also ogled her appreciatively. Her smoldering gaze hinted that any one or all of us might be the beneficiary of her attentions, separately or together.

Dinner was delicious, and very pleasant. It felt like we were all old friends and lovers by the time we were done with dessert. The sun had set about halfway through, and the stone paths were decently lit by Tiki torches, all the shade of burnished mahogany, their flaming crowns lighting the way. Claire took my arm, and Samantha the other, much to both our surprise. Rita walked in between Samuel and Bill, arms linked ahead of us.

Samantha leaned forward as we walked, and said, "Claire, do you mind my joining you? I don't want to jump in without getting your approval."

Claire giggled. "Depends, Sam. How good are you in bed?"

With what I guessed was her best sultry voice, "Which one of you is asking? And, I don't hear many complaints; my companions are usually passed out after."

"Maybe both of us?" I glanced over at Claire, who nodded at me.

Samantha reached down and ran her hands over my rear end. Despite my shorts, I could feel her firm, warm touch on me, and my heart quickened at the intimate contact. "What I like to do after dinner is walk down to the beach and watch the moon rise. Of course, it's a new moon, so we'll have to make do with other moons..." She steered us toward the water, and a warm tropical breeze, thick, warm and humid, caressed our skin.

Near the water's edge, Sam stopped and removed her wrap first, then the sarong, and stood naked before us. She was trim and athletic, firm tummy and tits, and Claire and I noticed the other detail at the same time. Before we could say anything, Samantha spoke.

"My hair is naturally black and white. Weird genetic bullshit, but salt-and-pepper hair looks awful on a naked woman, especially her bush. In high school, the other girls nicknamed me Piebald. Showering after gym was sheer hell, made me so self-conscious. Dyed my hair platinum in college, and started shaving my pussy when dying it turned out to be a little painful." She stepped up to us, kissing me first and then Claire. "Who wants my help getting naked first?"

Claire moved Sam's hands around to her back. Sam tugged on the bow, and the top came free, Claire's sexy tits escaping from their bounds. Before the top hit the sands, Sam's hands unbuttoned the shorts, and slipped them down off her buttocks, past her thighs to her ankles. Claire stepped out in only her sandals. "Your turn, baby." My wife slipped my polo shirt off of me, and I whipped my own shorts down.

I started for the water, but felt a hand on my arm, gently restraining me. It was Sam. "You know we have to wait to go into the water."

"We ate more than a half-hour ago, Sam."

She ran her hand again over my buttocks, now unadorned with anything, and stepped again in front of both of us, leaning in so her breasts, cool and firm, were on both our chests. "We'll swim afterwards to rinse ourselves off." She started to kneel, and took our hands, guiding us down on either side of her. I was already hard, and the breeze conspired with my natural horniness, making me even more aware of the two beauties here on the fine, silky sand.

Sam reached for Claire's pussy, I noticed with some disappointment, then took my erection in her hand. We both leaned forward, hands reached out to her, and she shook her head. "Not yet. Let me see which one is the most fun..." The light from the torches was faint, but I could see her lips curl in a roguish leer. "Of course, I'm not going to tell you ahead of time what I mean by fun."

Sam shifted to a kneeling position between us, and we lay back onto the still warm sands, which shifted under our buttocks and backs. Holding hands, we waited for our new friend to do what she wished with us.

I heard Claire's soft "oh" and saw Sam caress her breast, leaning down to kiss and suck her left, then her right, in turn. Her other hand ran down my side and up my belly to my throat, and then up and down my body, playing me like a Stradivarius. Her cool fingertips, brushing against the hairs of my chest and on my skin, were unthinkably erotic, a tantalizing touch, and she moved to my flanks, then down my hips, before returning up the inside of my thighs, feathery and sexy.

At the same time, I heard a sudden intake of air to my right. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam doing much the same thing to Claire, whose back was slightly arched, tense with erotic energy waiting to be released. Sam's fingers drifted down to my hard-on and Claire's golden pussy, running her fingertips and palms delicately, slowly over them. My cock jumped at her fingers, and she smiled at me; I wondered which one of us was best meeting her definition of "fun".

I felt myself getting lost in the feel of the wind and her hands on my body, my hard-on straining, ready to plunge inside her or Claire at the first hint of willingness. My breathing was alternately deep and shallow, directed by the whim of her fingertips. An occasional kiss landed on me in seemingly random spots, my belly, my shoulder, my thigh, and I made myself relax, while listening to Claire experience the same thing.

Now I felt Sam cradling and stroking my balls, and it looked like she was doing the same to my wife's pussy lips, gently stroking and awakening them. Claire and I moaned at the same moment, and her grip on my hand tightened perceptibly. Glancing up at Sam, her face was a beautiful mixture of serenity and lust. Her breathing was deep, slightly trembling when she inhaled, and I knew she was getting off on it too.

Still kneeling, she bent nearly double at her waist, and leaned into my wife's lush pubes, while extending her tongue tip, then gently working it along her slit; at least, that's what it looked like. Claire moaned again, this time louder, and gripped my hand fiercely. Sam sat this way for an eternity, her only accompaniment the sounds of the surf, and Claire's rising groans of ecstasy. Her fingers were still working in Claire's pussy, and trailing along my hard-on.

Suddenly, Sam stopped, and turned to me without shifting her position otherwise. Her face descended like a sunset, and I felt her tongue, then her mouth, creeping along the length of my dick, playing it like a delicate flute. She continued, and I lost all sense of time, fighting not to shoot my load, even when she opened her mouth and took me all the way in, so slowly she might have been a statue or a goddess. Her lips were at my pubes when she stopped and sat up, setting my cock free by inches as she uncurled from her position.

She smiled and moved effortlessly to lying on her stomach between us, one arm around each, before giving us each a peck on the cheek. "You're both fun. Usually one or both climaxes before the finish."

I reached over to stroke her back with my fingertips. "And you choose the one who didn't cum?"

Sam laughed. "Hell, no! I choose whichever one I want to when I'm done."

"What the hell do you do for a living, Sam?" Claire's voice was thick with longing and relaxation, and it sounded as though she was waking up from a wonderful dream.

"Certified masseuse and yoga instructor. The position I just used is called balasana, and I know quite a number of others you may be lucky enough to experience." She winked, then looked at both of us, and I found myself hoping we would. "I have a number of sexual maneuvers in my repertoire, and I enjoy sharing them with the worthy." She brought one, then the other, knee under her, and rose smoothly to her feet, offering her hands to us. When I stood, I felt as if I'd run a marathon, weary and momentarily weak. From the look on Claire's face, she felt much the same, wavering slightly on her feet.

Sam turned towards the ocean, and took our hands. "Let's hit the water!" She ran, and we kept up with her, barely. Once the waters were at her knees, Sam released our hands and dove in, slicing through the surface and coming up about twenty feet out, then rejoined us in the shallows. The warm ocean waters were soothing and invigorating, and Claire embraced me, kissing me soundly as the surf roared around us. "Thank you for saying yes to coming here!"

Samantha joined us, and our joyous three-way hug turned quickly into lingering kisses and our hands all over each other. Claire dropped to her knees and started kissing Sam's bare pussy, much to both their pleasure. Sam leaned into me, bracing herself, and kissed me while my wife licked her twat. After a few minutes, Sam stopped and stepped away, still holding our hands.

"Let's go inside. My room. If we're lucky, my Sam and your friend Bill are enjoying Rita, and we can watch, or join in." Either sounded wonderful, and Claire looked eager to find out too.

Gathering our clothes took a little longer than I expected. A stray gust captured Claire's top when she plucked it out of the sand, and we all gave it a merry chase before rescuing it from the surf. After a few minutes, we were all dressed, and headed past the restaurant, which looked ready to close for the night, to the second building, passing the one we were in.

In the elevator, Sam stripped again the minute the doors closed, and urged us to do the same before the doors opened. We did, and strode out into a small collection of people, maybe a dozen, mingling before the elevator, apparently waiting to head down, maybe to the bar, maybe to the beach or hot tubs. My cock was still thick and semi-hard from our erotic play on the beach, and I noticed a couple of the women there admiring the sight, as I admired their attention. Even more eyes, male and female, lingered on Claire and Samantha. Two of the other women's privates were fully shaved, and another two sported shaped bushes, though none had the striking platinum hair Sam did, above or below.

We walked down to her room, conscious of the number of stares we were receiving. Making a show of producing her key from her bundle of clothes, Sam kissed me very passionately, and the hoots of delight doubled when she did the same to Claire, then ushered us inside, shutting the door after she waved to the now-eager crowd.

The lights were already on, and Samuel was there with Bill and Rita. The two men, sitting naked on the loveseat, waved, but Rita was faced away from the door, and far too occupied with the blowjobs she was giving to notice us. Their suite looked the same as ours, but as a mirror image, bedroom on the right instead of the left. Samantha strode over to Samuel and bent over the armrest, kissing him as if she had just come home from shopping instead of edging us on the beach. She then leaned over and kissed Rita on the cheek, and murmured something we didn't quite catch. Rita turned her head and smiled wickedly at her, then turned back to sucking Bill.

Striding to the bedroom, Samantha tossed her clothes on a waiting chair, and we did the same. She pulled off the covers and lay back in the middle of the bed, comfortably spread out, waiting for us to join her. "I'm choosing you both... I assume you've enjoyed a threesome before." We told her we had, omitting that my wife's experiences predated mine by nearly three decades and many additional instances.

Claire spoke first, as we took up positions on either side of her. "Door open?"

"Of course," she answered levelly. "Much more fun if Sam can watch. If he wants to..."

I spoke next. "How do you want us, Sam?"

She patted both sides of the bed. "Next to me for now." We took up spots on either side of her; the bed was wider and longer than a regular king-size mattress, and I suspected often accommodated more than two or three.

Samantha looked into my eyes first. "You've been dying to ask me since dinner. Ask."

Any number of questions rose to my lips, but I wasn't sure which one, then I was. "Where are your parents from?"

"I knew it!" Her eyes danced with satisfaction and mirth. "Everyone wants to know, and I never tell until they've earned the right to ask. Norwegian mother and Korean father. One of my college boyfriends was a part-time poet, said I looked 'ethereal', in part because of my platinum hair, I'm sure." In the light, I was able to really see her eyes, and they were a pale ice blue.

"Not contacts, I take it..."

"No, these are my real eyes and, except for the color, my real hair. Real tits and pussy, too. Every inch of me is real, and I really want both of you right now." She turned first to me and closed her pale eyes, opening her mouth for a long, unhurried kiss, longing and passionate, cool and red-hot. Claire moved in behind her, and kissed along her back, reaching to caress her breasts, cupping and stroking them. Samantha and I had our hands on each other's asses, and my cock was erect, ready to plunge inside her.

We made out like that for a while, whatever sounds we made not quite drowned out by Rita's orgasm. I was curious what they were doing that she loved so much, but nowhere near as interested as I was in our little trio.

Samantha turned over, seeming to float over the bed she moved with such grace, and now her kisses and caresses landed on my wife, like rose petals or snowflakes. Stroking both their hips, I then moved my mouth along Sam's spine, down to her trim buttocks, kissing them and trailing my tongue over them. One of her hands left my wife's body to cradle my face, touching my cheek with what I could best describe as fondness, before moving back up Claire's side.

Both women studiously kept their hands off my cock. Samantha seemed to have a plan, or at least a desire, in keeping me erect as long as possible, and Claire followed her lead. I felt like I was headed for my first case of blue balls since high school, but I gamely kept going, knowing things were going somewhere, since Sam had said she wanted us both.

At long last, the orgiastic sounds subsided in the living room, after I heard Bill and the other Sam cum, likely, almost certainly, from Rita's oral skills. The three of them were panting and chatting in low, relaxed voices on the couch, and I pictured Rita wiping semen off her face and body with a finger, or more than one, and bringing it to her mouth to sample and swallow.

Our Sam said, very quietly, "I'm going to show you another asana." At my confused look, she explained, "Yoga pose. Yoganidrasana." We moved to the sides of the bed, leaving plenty of room in the middle for her to arrange herself. She lay on her back, closing her eyes, apparently gathering some kind of inner reserves. I had expected her to concentrate, but if she did, her focus was utterly serene, and she visibly relaxed.

On her back, she lifted her left leg, bent slightly, and stretched, bringing it up and back, until her shin was over her face. Her left arm snaked over it, and her calf came to rest behind her head, held in place by her arm. Eyes still closed, tranquility filled the room, and Claire and I watched in awe. She repeated the feat with her right leg, her right arm holding it in place, slipping the other leg behind her head to join its mate. Her ankles crossed behind her head, an incredible feat of flexibility.