October 2018
That fall, I basked in the sudden jolt of confidence that came home with me after my nude beach vacation with swingers. I found myself standing up straighter, standing my ground, standing up for myself. I felt mature, in a good way. In a way that gave me the confidence to speak up more in work meetings and become an authority figure for the district libraries. I’d been naked in front of others for a week and pretty much discovered a secret sex society, so sharing my opinion on information literacy lessons suddenly didn’t seem like such a big deal.
After all, I’d learned to give zero fucks about what others thought about me in the nude, and in turn I’d met some of the kindest, most interesting people. We had all friended each other on Facebook before our departures, and even today we still comment on each other’s adventures. It’s like we share a little secret, an intimacy.
Especially with Ryan and Lauren. In October, they posted a picture of themselves on a plane with the caption “Another trip to Jamaica!” We messaged them for more details, igniting a group chat. They weren’t going back to Sunset Beach. They were going to Hedo.
Jack had brought up Hedo time and again after our Sunset Beach vacation. He was ready to book a trip after the Halle Berry storytime, but I still had my doubts. Was Hedo still “dirty,” like it had been that one time we ventured over? Plus, we weren’t swingers, so wouldn’t we be out of place? I was all onboard with nude vacations now, so why couldn’t we just go back to Sunset Beach?
Lauren messaged me privately after their Hedo vacation. She wanted to provide me with a woman’s point of view on the resort, without the horny dudes chiming in. I shared my hesitations with her, and in every case, she provided reassurance.
Yes, Hedo was frequented by swingers, but it’s not exactly a “swinger’s resort,” she said. And, yes, Lauren and Ryan were on the swinging spectrum, she admitted, but they were still new to the game.
I considered how I’d felt when they were hitting on us at Sunset Beach, and it quelled my fears about being propositioned at Hedo. It had felt good, and I could always say no, so what was the big deal? It doesn’t hurt to have some other couples hitting on you and checking you out. It’s quite flattering, actually. Especially when they like you after getting to know you, really know you, during those real conversations that nude people tend to have.
We’d come to see swingers as sex-loving people like us, instead of with disdain, like how Red and Kitty had seen them. What did I care who others had sex with? I only had to worry about who I had sex with, and at that point, it was still just gonna be Jack.
Plus, I had liked the sensual vibe at Sunset Beach, and I had liked talking about sex with my new friends. It was my kind of party, and Lauren assured me that Hedo was like this, but better. It really was the insanely open, sex-positive resort that Halle Berry had described. Everyone was there for some type of sexy fun, even if it’s just with the person you came with.
At Hedo, public sex is allowed, even welcomed. That’s right, people will just start getting it on poolside. Blowjobs at the side of the pool. Sex on the lounge chairs. That sort of thing, and usually with their own spouses.
I did like the idea of a sexy party, but I worried that the public sex acts would be a turnoff for me. Jack felt quite the opposite. This is exactly why he wanted to go to Hedo. He wanted to see naked women and not have to worry about offending them with his erection. He thought it was cool to see other people having sex. He even not-so-discreetly hinted that he would be totally cool with playing in public, but assured me that it could be something “off to the side.”
I wasn’t surprised by any of this; it all aligned with the desires that he’d been uttering while orgasming for years.
My logic reassured me that I didn’t have to do anything that I wasn’t comfortable with. Plus, Lauren confirmed, I could simply leave that space and go to another, more peaceful spot within the resort. The south side of the beach was very chill — a great place to lounge with the ocean in full view and read a book. There was a quiet pool there, too.
I had options, and the options were intriguing.
But Hedo had been so dingy last time we ventured over to its beach that I swore I would never stay there. I’m quite particular about my environment; I can’t handle messes or uncleanliness or anything remotely like a Motel 6. I hate to sound like a privileged white suburbanite, but I suppose that’s just who I am. Represent.
So Jack was ecstatic to present me with the information that Hedo had been bought several years after our brief visit by a guy named Harry Lange. Harry is not just the owner, he’s also a client, and he knew exactly what Hedo needed to attract clientele like yours truly.
He modernized the rooms in sleek, clean whites with bright accent colors. He cleaned up the beaches and redid the pools. He made sure that the staff is the best on the island and compensates them more than fairly. Lauren confirmed all of this, adding other tidbits that I would happily confirm upon my own visit — the food is fantastic, and the activities and entertainment are phenomenal.
Lauren was also the first to tell me about the theme nights. Back in college, I was always all about the frat parties that had a theme. The theme gave me permission to be bold and take risks with my appearance. Toga party? Why, yes, I’ll saunter around in a sheet. Cowboy party? Yeehaw, let’s wear some braids and boots. When Lauren shared pictures of her and Ryan in their costumes, I was nearly sold.
Finally, Lauren reassured me that I had options if I absolutely hated the entire resort. Hedo is on one of the most beautiful stretches of beach in the entire world, and we could easily spend an entire day out walking the beach or seeing the sights in Negril.
I started to think that maybe Hedo was worth a try. It didn’t sound as dirty or scary as I’d previously thought. Plus, I had my own reasons, too.
Whenever I write something along the lines of “Jack convinced me,” I worry that some people will take this to mean that I’m being coerced. This is not the case at all.
Jack and I have this ongoing banter between us. It’s an openness and honesty that infiltrates our conversations about everything, including sex. We detail what we want, how we want it, and when we want it. We update each other when plans and desires change. Our sex life is not just a physical act in our marriage, it’s an ongoing discussion.
And ever since we left the baby phase and I turned a touch hippie-woo-woo, I’ve been quite motivated to make Jack’s sex dreams come true. It’s like my “thank you” to him for supporting me through my periods of depression and anxiety — I show him love in the language he desires most…and how I express it best.
As for me, I was looking for changes for myself. I wanted to continue to grow. I wanted an adventure. Jack likes to quote this line from Apocalyse Now, “You’ll never find out about yourself working in some fucking factory in Ohio.” I have no desire to watch the movie, but I can empathize with the sentiment.
With each foray into a situation that I initially found strange, I came out a better version of myself. I always come out ahead in some way, even if it’s just to know that I don’t want to do that thing again. Lesson learned. Moving forward. To really learn, I have to experience, and to experience, I have to put myself in the ring.
And if “the ring” was an all-inclusive beachfront resort on a tropical island…well, I wasn’t exactly roughing it, was I?
I had been chewing on all of this information for over a week when Jack and I settled into the kitchen at the end of a weekend in late October. We had taught Sunday School that morning, prepped for the week ahead, and finally put the kids to bed. Jack and I were alone now, closing up shop for the night, and I felt a stir. When he suggested Hedo yet again, I agreed.
By Jack’s reaction, you’d have thought he had proposed marriage in some sappy rom-com, but nope, I was agreeing to a sex-positive party in the nude. We’d go party with the swingers again, and we’d see where that would take us.
I thought our sex life was pretty fantastic before, but this seemed to ignite yet another spark. We craved more — more nights of sex, more orgasms, more time with each other, more kink. We reintroduced the bondage ties that I’d obtained in our early years together and made them a mainstay, permanently tied to our bed’s legs and tucked under the mattress when not in use. We bought more sex toys. We started listening to podcasts about sexuality, eager for both inspiration and information.
All the while, I gathered outfits for dinners and costumes for the theme nights and made all the appropriate arrangements for our trip. For the next nine months, we talked nonstop about the adventure that lay ahead of us. We weren’t mountain climbers or anything like that, but we were chasing a certain thrill. Sex became our sport, our hobby, our nightlife at home with our kids sleeping down the hall.
It felt like I was finally doing something.
I was living.
Fuck it, I was going back to Hedo.