"30, 60 or 90?"
"hmm...what would you suggest?"
"Para me, Seniorita, I would chooce za 90, but wis za deluxe packaje."
"Deluxe package? What's that?"
"Dos Hombres, quatros manos."
"hmmm...anything better than that?"
"Si, Seniorita. Za locacione. Take za VIP cabana y you see nussing but za waves y za san'. No ozer cabanas around."
"hmmm...that sounds interesting. Let's do that one."
She gave her room number and looked toward the beach wondering where the VIP cabana was hiding. In less than an hour the sun would setting and she would be closing in on a place she had longed for since she landed: sleep.
Jorge escorted her to a small golf cart and watched her white cotton sarong wisp around her legs while she stepped into her seat. She sat cross legged, leaning against the frame of the cart and watched through the frayed brim of her straw sun hat as the waves crashed to the shore. She watched the tires of the cart crush a path through the sugary sand, smiled to herself then kicked a sandal free and let her toes drag lightly across the sand as they drove. It felt hot and the warmth of the sun blushed the tan skin of her calf and foot. She sighed audibly and closed her eyes, turning her face to hanging sun.
Jorge watched her. He drove, but he watched her. He loved American women. This one was particularly wonderful. "Puneta!" he kept repeating under his breath. He loved how they all wore bikini's everywhere. He loved their oversized sunglasses and hats. The woman to his left had one of those hats and her sunglasses seemed exceptionally large. Her sarong was longer than a lot he'd seen, but it was sheer and hung from her hips tightly only to fall gracefully past her thighs and dance at the bottom with the weight of the tiny knots tied to the frayed ends. She wore a matching white bikini top that covered very little. Even her pedicured toes matched: french with neat white tips. "Puneta!" he grunted to himself.
She looked toward Jorge and noticed that the hotels had all vanished. They were past them all. Lost in the trance of the sea she hadn't realized how far they had driven, how far they were from her hotel. 10 minutes into their ride and the cabana was in view. The beach was vacant of footprints, vacant of divots, it was absent of just about everything, especially people. They pulled to a stop and they cabana was directly between her and the crashing waves. She slipped the driver a handsome tip as he pointed to the cabana.
The sun was sitting almost at line of sight. She pulled down the brim of her hat, stood and looked toward pending bliss. Someone had raked all the sand around the cabana and the 100 yards or so that lay between her and it. There it sat, it's rivets carved carefully, unbroken all around her. She couldn't resist the urge and kicked her sandals free. Stepping softly, she waited for the sand to break under her toes and the she dug them in, curling and crushing it between them. The crust baked on top gave way to a cooler bed beneath and each step she took she relished the sensations.
A turquoise sky was melting into a bluer ocean and behind the gently ruffling cream drapes that hung from the four corners of the cabana, it seemed to be exploding with vibrant shouts of color. Shadows were growing longer and stretched from the darkening cedar posts across the snakes of sand delicately raked beneath her feet. Inside the cabana was a plush massage table, aimed parallel with the water line. Anyone lying on this bed could turn to watch the waves roll across the beach in all their wonder while some expert kneaded and pushed away all the aches that had been stored away. She stepped closer, hearing soft music as she approached. It was light and beckoning, and it clung to the drapes like wisps of cotton candy, trilling out into the air and dissolving on her skin.
Two men stood on either end of the table, hands clasped behind their backs and hiding their eyes behind dark aviators. They stood rooted to their spots, sentinels at each end, dressed in matching linen uniforms. Entering the cabana, she removed her hat and sunglasses, placed them on the warm sand and smiled at the man who stood at the head of the table. He took her extended hand and bowed to her, lightly kissing her just below her wrist, then hummed deeply, "Welcome, Seniorita."
He was tall, fine featured and clearly not hispanic. His sleeves rolled to his forearms and other than the two buttons in the center of his shirt that held it on his body, it hung loosely and comfortable from his broad shoulders. He was athletic and muscular, lean and fit. He hadn't shaved in several days, the growth even, but tempered.
"You may change here and if you should need anything, you only need ask. My name is Carmine Estacion and my assistant is Senior Cruz. Beneath the table there are towels, a robe, and an assortment of beverages."
Carmine turned and pulled a thick braided rope. Carmel colored drapes uncoiled from the ceiling on all four sides and formed a changing area for her. Senior Cruz and Carmine Estacion disappeared behind the fabric and waited.
She stood motionless, analyzing who would have their hands all over her. Senior Cruz looked native, and though he hadn't spoken, she guessed his linguistic skills were limited to spanish only. He was taller than most of the Mexican men she saw, still, he wasn't taller than his white associate. They both looked strong and capable and she realized quickly she was attracted to them.
She untied her sarong and let it fall to her feet. Carmine watched the sun project her silhouette against the rear curtain and smiled to himself. His eyes roamed over the shadowy images, swallowing hard. Her hair tumbled to mask her face as she looked down to guide her hands as they pushed the tight bikini bottom off her hips. His smiled melted to awe as she bent over to remove the bottoms. She turned to face the sun and unsnapped her top. Carmine knew he was in trouble. Senior Cruz swore under his breath. "Puneta!"
"Carmine, can you raise the drapes? I'd like to look at the ocean."
"Seniorita, you are not wearing your robe or towel."
"Carmine, do as you're told."
Carmine tugged the braided rope and slowly the drapes began to recoil towards the cedar ceiling where they had been hidden.
She watched the carmel linen roll up revealing the view she wanted. The waves thundered mercilessly against the pitched beach. Their fight was endless, their stamina marvelous. She loved the way the freshly bathed sand shimmered, reflected the sky like a darkened mirror. The wind was soft and lightly tickled her skin and feathered through her hair. She stretched her hands high above her head and arched her back, inhaling deeply, then purred like a languid cat. Her exhale was purposefully demonstrative. Carmine and Senior Cruz had been hidden from her view while she undressed and she was unaware of their secretive admirations. She moaned her exhale and accentuated the curve of her back, pushing her erect nipples as far forward as possible and rounded out her perfectly tan buttocks with the bend of a knee for an impressively effective seductive stretch. She had wanted a reaction from her audience, surely her figure and pose deserved such. She had been openly gawked at the moment she exited the cab to her hotel. Upon leaving her room, clad in the white sarong and bikini the was an embarrassment for coverage, the looks lasted longer, the chirping had begun from the less disciplined admirers and even the other women began to shoot her jealous looks. Surely, with nothing on, the sun dancing across her beautiful navel and hips, shimmering across her heavenly breasts, this sort of stretch and sultry moan would exact a reaction. They were motionless. Stone cold statues. The only hint of acknowledgment, maybe, was she thought she caught Carmine clenching his teeth through the corner of her eye. When she glanced his way, he was facing her, but made absolutely no movement or sound to indicate he was even alive. Senior Cruz was just as resolute. She smiled to herself and simply offered a "hmpf" as she turned to lie on the table.
Faustino Cruz held his breath. He was determined not to show her how she affected him. The moment he saw her coming he swore under his breath. "Joder!" "No shit, Faustino. Don't screw this up," Carmine had warned him. They had worked together for the last two seasons and had almost instantly felt like the other was a brother. Faustino had made his way from one resort to another from Peru until he landed here, in Cabo San Lucas. He lied about his masseuse experience but his customer reviews were nothing short of amazing. He was often requested and soon was promoted to the VIP cabana where he met Carmine. Carmine was in his early 30's and took the younger Faustino under his wing, made sure he was given equal shifts and taught him how to look out for bigger tippers and how to handle American women vs Europeans. He taught him to learn his customers approach, to read their body language, and how to adjust the pressure and intensity of his massage without having to ask. Faustino finally confided, admitted that he won his reviews by providing sexual favors to his clients. Carmine frowned when he told him, warned of the danger and risk that entailed, and mostly Faustino listened.
When their client lay on the table, face down, Faustino exhaled. Then he flashed his enormous smile at Carmine. There was no doubt what he had in mind and Carmine Estacion was worried this was a woman beyond his self control. The problem was, he had already read this woman and knew what she needed. Perhaps, if she had been less beautiful, less tempting, he could easily dismiss his own need. He knew he could give her exactly what and how she needed it. He knew that he could make her beg him, that the massage would open up a gateway for her she had never known. That she would thank him, and that she would be exactly what he wanted. The knowing was the problem.
"Seniorita, please enjoy the view. For the next 90 minutes you will be in complete bliss. We will use a combination of oils and lotions designed to bring extreme comfort and pleasure to your whole body. Are there any areas in particular that you would like us to pay special attention." Carmine asked because he had to, but he already knew what she was going to say.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find all the right spots." She raised her ass in the air slightly and audibly exhaled.
Standing at her feet, Faustino Cruz had planted his eyes squarely on her ass and when she raised it up he felt his cock harden when he saw a glimpse of her pussy.
"Very well. Enjoy." Carmine hummed, watching her nestle into place.
She turned to look out at the ocean. The sky had turned to a steely blue, where a few long stretched clouds were lighting on fire. The sands looked more like brown sugar. She had waited for this moment since she arrived. This time the exhale was for her.
Faustino and Carmine lathered their hands in oil, then looked at each other quickly. Both turned their attention to the magnificent woman and tried to hide a guilty smile. Carmine fanned out his hands like the wings of a bird, thumbs side by side, and placed them at the top of her back, then gently slid them down the curve of her spine. His hands were large by any standard, and together they easily spanned the whole of her back and curved down her sides. He pushed past her small waist, leaning forward, up the curve of her hips, rounding the whole of her ass cheeks and then let his fingers slide down to her sides. He pulled his hands firmly back up the sides of her rib cage, her breasts and then back up to his starting position again. Faustino's hands began at her ankles, then ran up her calves, fell to the inside of her thighs and all the way to the base of her ass, letting his fingers glance the inside of her pussy, as he went, then, as his hands neared Carmines he dropped them to the outside of her thighs and firmly back to his origination. They worked in unison, allowing the oil to heat her body beneath their hands and kept an even, steady, comforting pace. She softly moaned as their hands neared each other.
Carmine knew he was finished when he touched her body. Her skin felt electric to his hands, seemed to shoot energy and fire through his fingertips straight to his chest. This woman was a goddess. She lay before him, slowly writhing beneath his pressing palms, moving with him, accommodating her body to him as if she were the one giving his hands a massage. He tried to focus his thoughts away, think of something to distract him, but with every soft moan that escaped her mouth he was forced back to what she was doing to him. He had massaged many women, many backs, this one, he told himself, was no different. But the way she moved, in rhythm, in harmony with him, it was if she was making love to his hands. He had been focused so intently on staying in control he hadn't looked up to see how Faustino was fairing.
His friend had become more and more brazen with his technique. As his hands approached her inner thighs, she raised her hips slightly, accommodating him just the same. He had been more liberal with is focus. His fingers stayed at the base of her pussy longer, lightly rubbing them and softly exploring the insides in a circular motion. He would rub and gently prod until she moaned to his satisfaction then return to work on her calves and feet, then back up to her thighs and pussy again.
Carmine's cock lept in his pants. This woman was too much. He caught Faustino's eye and gave him a quick nod.
Faustino held the oil bottle above her still gyrating hip and let a large amount dribble on the small of her back until it pooled up in a neat oval. He began to rub it all over her ass until it was a glimmering shiny piece of perfection. Carmine leaned forward, this time purposefully pressing his hips against the top of her head so she could feel the bulge in his pants hardening. He began to circle the small tight ass hole with his fingers, spreading her cheeks and pulling them apart. Faustino slid both hands beneath her thighs and toward her hips, then lifted so her back was arched, ass sticking up in the air. He began to rub his fingers down her slit, exciting himself at the discovery of her wetness. She moaned for him to continue. "Puneta!" he grunted.
She ached for them. She had never had two men at the same time before and the thought made her extremely excited. Would they know what they were doing? She wondered as Senior Cruz had rubbed up and down her thighs. He lingered so often at her pussy she was convinced he was intentionally trying to arouse her. She moved her hips to meet him, enjoying the massive hands of Carmine as he stroked her sides and back. She grinned at her success. Yes, she had succeeded with her stretch and pose earlier, even if they had done well to conceal it. She moaned louder each time the Mexican caressed her pussy and thighs. She even raised her hips to help him a few times. She thought of her boyfriend back at the hotel, groggy from the flight. He would come out of the shower to find her note. What would happen if he found her somehow? She realized that she was turned on by the thought. Her insides seem to light on fire and she knew in moments she would be soaking wet. Two cocks was enough to drive her mad with desire and lust but the idea of her boyfriend catching her with two strangers, stuffing them inside her made her almost delirious with smoldering rage like passion. If these two pool boys did well, maybe she could find a way to come back and drop hints to be found. The plan was growing inside her mind and she was getting wetter by the second.
As Carmine's bulging pants pressed against the top of her head she knew she would fuck them both. His fingers found her ass hole, circling and probing. Faustino had shoved a finger inside her pussy and was beginning to slowly finger fuck her. Their intentions were clear.
"I didn't know this was part of the VIP service," she moaned.
"Yes, you did. You knew you wanted to this when you paid for it at the desk. I knew it when you stepped off the golf cart."
She said nothing to Carmine. He was right. "Dos hombres, quatros manos" had sent a shiver down her back and she had thought, even if briefly, about two men, fucking her like a whore in a cabana where no one was around. She could completely let go there. No one would judge her. She could let out all these wild inhibitions she had, until now, kept locked away inside her. To be manhandled, have her pussy stretched, her mouth forced as wide as possible, made to take a thick cock down her throat until she gagged simply made her lose her breath in a wave of lust.
Carmine pressed his finger inside her ass and slowly began to massage from the inside, then back out and in again.
"Just like I thought." Carmine grunted. "You can't wait to get fucked like a dirty little slut, can you?"
She said nothing to him, but inside she was churning. Her pussy throbbed. It ached to be stretched out and pounded.
"Nothin' to say?" "Can you start to behave properly if I roll you over? How well can you keep quiet with Faustino's cock stuffed in your little cunt? Think you can still keep quiet then?"
Suddenly, she was turned over, lying on her back. Faustino took her by the ankles and pulled her toward him until her ass was hanging half way over the edge of the massage table. He lifted her legs and pushed them toward her shoulders. She was throbbing and now her face was no longer hidden. They could see her biting her lip, see her panting. Carmine pulled the drawstring loose on his linen pants and let them fall to his ankles. He wore nothing beneath them and his cock now stood half-erect pointing at her right shoulder. He inched closer so that it slid across the slide of her neck and past her chin. She licked her lips instinctively and gripped the sides of the table. His skin was so soft and smooth sliding across her body. She wanted to taste him, to feel him expand inside her mouth hear his grunting. Faustino had his head on the side of one of her thighs and was kissing and gently sucking all around her wet cunt, making small pocking noises as he went. She was writhing her hips beneath him, fighting against his firm grip to push herself closer to his mouth. Her body was beginning to shake and quiver with anticipation. There was no use pretending she didn't want them both, her body was betraying her.
"You're just going to... force yourself on me, Mr. Carmine? What if I report you?" She questioned with a mocking tease.
"Oh, my dear Ms. Baur, I could take you right here, right now on this table until you begged for mercy, twice."
"I never beg anyone for anything."
"Twice," Carmine repeated matter-of-factly and held her eyes until she looked away.
He unnerved her. Physically, he was incredibly attractive, there was no doubt, but the way he seemed to be reading her, no not her, her body, like he was tied in to the all nerve endings running to the very tips of her fingers. He could simply look at her and know what she wanted without even speaking. To his enduring credit, he even said what she wanted to hear...and seemed to coax out of her what she always wished she could have said before. And yet, none of it seemed rehearsed, but authentic.
Carmine hooked his hands under her arms, said something to Cruz in spanish and they gently pulled her shoulders and legs around until she lay across the table horizontally. Carmine let her head lie gently in his hands and then lowered it until she hung suspended, staring at his enormous nutsack. From this angle, his cock looked down right monstrous. Carmine moved his hips closer and let the underside of his shaft brush forehead, then he slid it down her cheek until his balls flopped against her temple. She whimpered softly.