Part Four: A Trip to Hedonism II for Sun, Sex, & Self-Reflection
This post is part of a series on my sexual awakening, beginning with falling in love and discovering the joys of sex (Part One), and becoming confident vacation nudist (Part Two). While partying in a nude pool, my husband and I discovered that swingers really do exist and that monogamy doesn’t have to be boring…or even our only option. This post begins where Part Three left off, with my carefully weighed decision to go to the infamous swinger’s resort Hedonism II in Negril, Jamaica, for further sexual exploration. And, my oh my, did we make some discoveries!
We wanted to vacation at Hedonism for the sex, not the swinging.
I’ll admit it, I wanted an adventure.
We booked our trip to Hedonism II to take place almost exactly one year after our eye-opening Couples San Souci nude vacation. Our plans were similar to the year before: kids to the grandparents’ house while Jack and I flew away to a tropical paradise for exactly one week, Saturday to Saturday, during the middle of July.
The difference this time was that we were going to a resort where we knew there would be swingers and other sexually adventurous folks. Going to Couples had been a commitment to party and parade in the nude at their clothing-prohibited Sunset Beach, and that was it. Nothing salacious, unless you count the multiple times each day that Jack and I knew we’d be fucking. That’s just what a tropical vacation means for us…lots of sex and sun. But swingers? That had been an unexpected plot twist in our story. And upon reflection over that year between our trips, we came to the conclusion that we weren’t sure if we’d reached the climax of the story just yet.
Prior to our Hedo trip, we had decided that we weren’t swingers, but we sure did like the vibe that swingers had presented at Couples. We loved the sensation of being nude, and to take it a step further — on display. We had enjoyed being checked out, admired, and propositioned. Jack had always fantasized about sex in public, but my ideas of actual sex acts in front of others alternated between slightly aroused to downright awkward.
We’d never had sex with anyone but each other. The idea of suddenly becoming swingers was not yet a viable option for us. How would that even go, having sex with another person…er, people? I couldn’t fathom it. But man, did we enjoy sex, and we were curious. And now, having met some of the coolest people ever at the nude pool at Sunset Beach, who just happened to be swingers and exhibitionists and also sexually adventurous, we became more open.
I wasn’t the same degree of nervous heading into this trip as I had been on our vacation the year before, when I felt daunted by the nude week ahead of me. Now armed with the revelation of how sensual being in the nude made me feel, I was emboldened and open to the adventure that lay ahead. I was curious to see where this vacation would lead us, and yet I was walking into the resort with no expectation other than a week in sunshine with the man that I so love. And lots of sex, of course.
When we arrived at the airport in Jamaica, we had to tell multiple airport Club Mobay attendants where we were headed. At first we were just the slightest bit bashful — “Hedonism II…” The young Jamaican woman accompanying us down the corridor through customs let her eyebrows lift a little, but there was also a glimmer in her eyes. “You’re adventurous!” she proclaimed. Yeah, I was. I am. Fuck it, I’m a grown woman and I want a sexy vacation, damnit. This is as far from kids and housework as I’m going to get, and I’m going to enjoy it. I smiled in response.
Our cab driver had a lot more to say about our destination. Apparently, Leroy had worked at Hedo for years as a bartender before retiring for the more standard hours of a driver. He recounted the exploits of the sex-crazed women who enjoyed having sex with other men and women while trying to catch my eye, and perhaps assess my desires, through the rearview mirror. We assured him that we were going there to have sex with only each other and that we weren’t too wild, but that didn’t stop Leroy from offering us the opportunity to fuck in the back of the cab, even if it meant that he’d have to keep driving a little longer until we finished. We declined that offer, but we did buy some ganja from him.
As we pulled up at the resort, a slight drizzle began to omit from heavy gray clouds, but inside the lobby, the decor was modern, clean, and airy. Savory smells wafted in from the nearby buffet, and I saw a smattering of couples, scantily clad in lacy coverups and small shorts, helping themselves to mid-afternoon snacks,. Those that caught me looking waved and gently smiled, a tiny welcome assuring me that I had come to the right place.
Hedonism II is a pretty typical all-inclusive, apart from the public sex.
While Jack worked with the staff to put the finishing touches on our accommodation arrangements, I began to wander through the giant lobby and made my way to the wide opening looking over the expanse of the resort and ocean in front of us.
On a straw covered cabana, directly in my line of view from lobby to ocean, was a tanned couple. The man was on top of the woman, rhymically fucking her, his glutes clenching and her booty flab shaking with each thrust. Her hands grasped his ass cheeks, much in the same way that I like to grab Jack to guide him to that perfect spot. They are very much on display, but they are focused only on each other. If I didn’t like watching them, I could look away or go somewhere else. I take in the view of the ocean, the smell of salt and humidity, and glance towards the cabana again. Jack walks up behind me and puts his hand on the small of my back. “Oh, that’s awesome!” he exclaims. I smile. They did indeed seem to be making the most of a rainy afternoon.
When the staff was done briefing us on our stay ahead, a concierge escorted us through the resort to our room. We passed the cabana, where the couple was now spooning, staring out to the ocean, the man’s hands gently stroking the woman’s side.
Even though Jack was eager to get to the nude pool, he relented when the skies opened up to release a full on downpour. We unpacked, ready to solidify our stay and put everything in its place, including the bondage ties and sex toys that we’d brought from home. We also took full advantage of the giant mirrors on the wall in front of the bed and the ceiling above the bed, and we leisurely and hungrily fucked for the next hour, examining ourselves from angles previously undiscovered.
At the first glint of the sun’s return, we grabbed our beach bag and headed to the nude pool, ready to party with ganja and drinks. The water was cool after the rain, but we proceeded full steam ahead through the water to the pool bar, where we immediately struck up a conversation with another couple that was about our age. We became fast friends; like them, we are more into the nudity than the swinging. We bond; we hang out the entire afternoon, smoke pot with them at night, and sit together for dessert and drinks during the evening entertainment the following evening, which was also their last night at Hedo. We exchanged full names so that we can follow each other on Facebook. It’s all very vanilla, and it was nice.
Many of our days at Hedo were, in fact, very reminiscent of any typical all-inclusive vacation. There was delicious food everywhere we turned, all ours for consuming. Tropical drinks abounded from every bar. Multiple pools, some tucked away in romantic little grottos, beckoned us for a quick dip to cool off while hot tubs offered opportunities to relax and warm up. The ocean proved a reliable location for floating on a raft, its gentle waves lulling us into serene conversation. We explored the resort, we chatted with other guests and the staff. We enjoyed getting dressed up for dinner and watching the entertainment at night.
Jack and I embraced this opportunity to bond; we talked endlessly without interruptions from children, dogs, or chores. We had sex every morning, each rainy afternoon, and once again every night. We took turns with the handful of sex toys that we’d brought from home, leaving our bondage ropes tied to the four legs of our bed, not caring if the housekeepers noticed.
Don’t worry, we also made sure to enjoy the perks and privileges of staying at an open, nude, sex-positive resort.
We started with sex on the beach.
On Sunday night, just as the entertainment wrapped up for the evening, Jack ushered me down the beach towards a lounge chair set next to the ocean, under a tropical tree and not far from the old massage hut. A spotlight fixed to the hut lit up the sand opposite us, providing us with just enough light to passersby but not so much that we felt on display.
He began by laying a towel on the lounger and gently pushing me back, reclining, spreading my legs to each side of the chair with my feet nestled in the cool sand. He kisses me for a few quick moments, then makes his way down my body, lifting my dress over my hips to reveal my absence of underwear. He positioned his head between my legs and did what he does best — cunnilingus, that is — warming me up for that night’s fuck session on the beach.
It’s sex on the beach in all the best ways — next to the ocean, the waves lapping, the wind blowing on our bodies, but without all the sand that gets stuck in the worst possible places. We don’t have to worry that we’ll get caught or in trouble, unlike the times in our youth when we were chased away by hotel security guards. Our only apprehension at Hedo was that someone might be watching from the shadows, but was that apprehension…or something else? It certainly doesn’t stop us from relishing in the pure pleasures of beach and bodies.
After we had both orgasmed, we spent a few moments cuddled up next to each other on the lounger, staring at the lights lining the bay and out into the dark void of water. It was still the beginning of our trip. What would come next?
I tripped on pot, and fell even more in love with Jack.
Monday starts out much like the day before. I had no idea that it would turn into one of the pivotal days in my journey, a day that I now fondly look back on as one of the best days of my life. It begins with a leisurely breakfast, then a walk Seven Mile Beach and oceanside yoga before we made our way to the pool, just as the action was beginning around 11am.
It’s easy to make friends at Hedo; just go up to anyone and strike up a conversation. I’m a classic introvert; I don’t like small talk. The open, flowing conversation about relationships, sex, and emotion that pours from the Hedo guests and staff alike is, therefore, simply exhilarating. Each story is unique and interesting, and people care to listen but not judge when you share your story, too. Plus, there’s so much laughter and silliness and fun. I feel myself coming out of my shell, allowing people to see the true me, whoever that is. I’m less and less sure of who I am, and yet more bold than ever before.
There’s a podcast episode on Casual Swinger in which the hosts interview Harry Lange, the owner of Hedo. He explains that with each trip, the line in the sand moves a bit more, in terms of sexual experiences that people are willing to try. Looking back, I think that my line inched over a little day by day, even perhaps hourly, as my old ideas about sex and self were constantly challenged by new information garnered from the open-minded, adventurous, fun-loving people of the Hedo nude pool. Did I really not like such-and-such, or had I just never given it a chance? I enjoyed hearing all the possibilities that were presented to me in the form of others’ stories. Mind opening, indeed.
It started raining again as we were eating lunch in the lobby. No problem, mon — it rains most afternoons in the Carribean, and then it usually clears up. We knew exactly how to pass the time — with sex, of course. But since we were on vacation, we reasoned…why not indulge in some cocktails, too? We ordered drinks from the bar. A margarita for me, a rum and Coke for Jack. I adore margaritas — not just the salty goodness of how they taste, but also the way they make me feel. Sexy, revved up, and ready to let loose. I ordered a second to go, and we made our way back to the room.
This seems as good a time as any to tell you my measurements. I’m little. I put 5’1 on my driver’s license, though I’m only officially that height when I’ve got shoes on. I’ve been into fitness for years, but it wasn’t until I stopped consuming added sugars a couple years ago that my weight gain from four pregnancies shed away, leaving me with about 115 pounds, dripping wet after dinner, of muscle and bone. My breasts went from voluptuous, milk-filled D-cups to barely B/essentially A-cups, but thankfully my booty has never been more pronounced.
Another reason I’m so small? I had essentially given up drinking alcohol when I discovered pot two summers before my Hedo holiday. I maybe have one drink every other week now, if that. I’m back to being a lightweight in every sense of the word. I reveal this to showcase exactly how poor my consumption choices were that afternoon, though initially it seemed to be the perfect cocktail of drinks and drugs.
Back in the room, we sloppily took a quick hit of ganja before proceeding on to kinky, athletic, completely uninhabited sex. Upon my request, Jack hogtied me with a necktie, then used a second necktie to gag me, muffling my moans as he teased me mercilessly with a plethora of sex toys as well as his nimble fingers and tongue. Finally, he fucked me as we watched the scene from the mirror above our bed. I love the savory delight of vacation sex. Not that we don’t have amazing sex at home, too, but is there anything quite like a two hour fuck session in the middle of the day? It’s a stark contrast to the mood we often find ourselves in during a nighttime session at home after putting four unwieldy rugrats to bed.
When we were done having sex, we cleaned ourselves up, took another hit or two of weed, and proceeded to the nude pool. I got another margarita. Drunk and high, we perched ourselves at the side of the raised bar in the middle of the pool, and spent the next couple hours there, standing nude on full display of the party around us, laughing hysterically at the stories we told each other.
We were having an intimate conversation for two, albeit quite loudly. We expressed ourselves with touch, kisses, and embraces. An onlooker later commented to us that everyone in the pool was waiting with baited breath for us to start fucking right there; no one dared interrupt us and derail our path.
I had a sense that we were alone, and yet I was blithely aware that we were being watched. It didn’t bother me like I thought it would; the fourth margarita that I went ahead and consumed likely took away any inhibitions that I had remaining. I was having the time of my life with my most perfect soulmate. I was wasted, and I can verify that everyone watching was aware of this, too, as the rest of the week we received not only comments on our compatibility but also questions such as “How did the rest of Monday work out for you?”
Here’s how — awful, but then, amazing.
We started to leave the pool around 5, ready for an early dinner. We stopped to talk to a threesome — literally, a guy and his two girlfriends — for about ten minutes. This was when my world started to spin, and not because we were getting kinky. I remember one of the girlfriends saying, “Maybe you should have your wife lay down.”
Suddenly, I was back in the room, crying as I lay curled up on the bed, my head on Jack’s lap. I was freaking the fuck out. I remember hyperventilating, and I remember Jack coaching me to breathe deep and slow. I thought I was dying. I kept telling Jack that someone had drugged me (yeah, that someone was me). The world was all wrong, all upside down, spinning around my head with nothing for me to do but ride it out.
Jack kept his cool, even though in truth I was making him a little paranoid, too. He stroked my hair and massaged me, holding my head in his lap, until I finally, blissfully passed out. When I woke up four hours later, he was still holding me. The world outside was dark with the tree frogs trilling. I felt perfectly fine, but I was starving. Jack kissed me gently, hugged me and stroked me until I felt ready to sit up. He filled me in on what had gone down — “You are not used to being drunk and high at the same time,” he explained. “I think you were tripping.” I agreed; it was very unlikely that it was anything else.
Jack got dressed and went to the buffet for food. He chose the ultimate comfort food to bring back to our room for me, and to this day it remains some of the best food that I’ve ever eaten, janywhere, ever: jerk chicken, beans and rice, and a delicious Jamaican soup. I gobbled it up, and my mood lifted to heights previously unseen. Was this euphoria? Eating the perfect meal in bed with my perfect husband, I had never felt more loved, more cared for. I wanted ice cream.
My basic needs satisfied and with my soulmate by my side, I was ready to explore more avenues of sex that I had once balked at. Jack had been eyeing the little cabin at the side of the nude pool since our arrival. It had four walls, but just an open doorway and no door. Inside, two queen sized mattresses filled the space save for a shelf of clean sheets and a hamper for dirty ones. Dead sober, I led Jack to the cabin and stipped down for him once we were inside. We had sex on one of the mattresses, acutely aware and aroused knowing that anyone could walk in at any moment.
I contemplate my sexual self on a nude catamaran cruise.
The next day, we set sail on a nude catamaran cruise and snorkeling trip that took us away from the resort for most of the day. It did not, however, take us away from the aura of open copulation that pervades the people of Hedo.
As we made our way back “home,”, I sat on the deck of the boat, alternately casting my gaze on the row of resorts along the shore and the couple having sex in the trampoline below me. The woman started out by giving the man a blowjob as he leaned back, letting his baseball cap tip over his eyes, thoroughly enjoying her attention. They only paused when the waiter brought them drinks that they hadn’t even had to order, and again when another woman periodically joined in on the fun, her blonde head taking turns with the original brunette’s. Eventually, the blonde left and the brunette climbed on top of the man, riding him in time with the sway of the waves as people on the deck periodically let loose a cheer for them.
Watching people having sex in public doesn’t look like you’d think it would. It’s not a porn; there is no money shot and the theatrics are rather subdued. The participants I witnessed during my days at Hedo only vaguely acknowledged others around them, instead focusing on their own pleasure or that of their partner. I’d often find myself letting my eyes linger on their exploits, and yet it wasn’t arousing to me. It was more akin to seeing someone eat; it was intimate, not jarring. It was natural, and interesting, too. A very interesting type of people watching.
So what’s the deal with sex, really? I contemplated my own thoughts about sex as the boat headed towards the sunset. What’s so shocking, so taboo, about all this? I was brought up Catholic, conservative, and Republican. My family would be horrified and disgusted by what I had seen and even by the little that I had done. Sex was something that was “supposed” to be private, between a husband and wife. All this showing off and swinging…in the eyes of my family, it would be considered so very shameful, perhaps even grounds for being cast into Hell.
I didn’t think exhibitionism was such a big deal at all. Most of these people were still just having sex with their spouses. I wasn’t aroused by their exploits, but I was curious. Clearly I’m not a voyeur, but I’m not a prude either. Was there a value being broken here? Modesty, perhaps, but what a flimsy value. I was naked on a boat watching the sun set off the coast of a tropical island. What did anyone need to be modest about? This felt pretty natural to me. It reeked organic. I’d already welcomed nudity into my life and I was comfortable in my birthday suit. Sex all around? That seemed fine, too. Everyone was smiling, after all.
What about those couples that chose to have sex with others outside of their marriage? This was an idea that Jack and I had turned over again and again in conversations that past year, since having met real-life swingers at Couples. They didn’t bother me in the slightest, either. There was no betrayal. There was more than consent; there was outright enthusiasm.
Jack wanted to have sex in front of other couples, that was something he was increasingly sure about. Me? I was the stalemate. What was I afraid of? Was there actually a chance that I could like it? I’d quite liked sex with the possibility of being seen, aroused at the idea of someone finding my sexual prowess desirable.
It occured to me that the nagging feeling that I had been turning over in my mind all day long on that boat wasn’t a question of morals. It was a nagging feeling that I wanted something that I had been denying myself, and I was now in a position to safely grant myself that wish. I couldn’t hide under the morals imposed on me by others any longer. After all, what am I but a speck in the universe, a being all my own with my own wants and desires?
I had to keep moving forward, embracing the next opportunity presented in my life. I had to wade past the sorrows to take a deep dive in the pure pleasure of being a human. I was alive; it was time to act like it.
I was surprised how much I enjoyed having sex among others in The Playroom at Hedo.
After dinner and the evening’s arousing entertainment (seriously, the shows at Hedo are fantastic — they do NOT advertise their talent nearly enough), I suggested to Jack that we try The Playroom.
The regular playroom was under construction during our trip, only open a part of the time, so we were redirected to the Kama Sutra Palace, a gymnasium of sorts in the back of the nude side of the resort, behind the tennis courts. They opened at 10pm every night, but by the time we got there it was already bumping…er, banging?
We walked into the lobby and were greeted by a female staff member who informed us that we’d need to be naked to enter, gesturing towards a locker room where we could leave our clothes and shoes. We obliged, grabbing towels on our way into the red-lit room. There were about a dozen or so mattresses spread about two feet from the others on right on the floor, with clean sheets available for us to lay on top. We took the only available mattress, the one closest to the door as well as a counter along the wall. The counter held stereo equipment that filled the room with erotic music.
Until that vacation, we typically had sex with the lights on and no music, so this was a change for us, but a good one. Now, nearly two years since our trip, we rarely have sex without music anymore. We love how the sound fills the air and our minds, offering a vibe to follow and help us focus.
The red light offered privacy, shrouding us in just enough darkness to feel comfortable as we lay down together on the mattress, but with enough light that we could see each other and the bodies around us moving slowly, rhythmically to the beat of the music.
We began with deep kissing, our hands skimming each other’s bodies until Jack shifted me to the top of the mattress, positioning his head between my legs, seguing in our classic fashion to cunnilingus for me. Jack loves giving me oral sex, and his enthusiasm is in part what makes him so skilled. I relaxed into the mattress, soaking up the light and music. I grew increasingly wet with each flick of his tongue against my clit. I consciously decided to let a few moans escape, joining in the chorus of the other women in ecstasy all around me. It felt empowering, all of us moaning together. We were safe, with partners devoted to pleasing us. This was all for pleasure, and nothing more. It was freeing and erotic.
And then, the music stopped. The room grew silent, and the moaning was all that I could hear. Someone stepped up to the counter next to us, fiddling with the stereo. A few couples began to leave, walking past us on their way to the door. I became shy. I could tell that Jack felt a little awkward, too, and I knew how badly he wanted to fuck me, so we nearly sprinted back to our room to finish what we’d started. We were done with the playroom for the night, but not for good.
I squirted during a Tantric Sex Workshop, but that’s a story unto itself.
On Wednesday, I pushed the line in the sand even further. Armed with courage from drinks and drugs combined more smartly than in previous days, Jack and I attended a Tantric Sex Workshop, in which we perfected our G-spot fingering techniques. To sum up for those not wanting to read the full story in all its glory, let’s just say that this revved up our sex life another few notches, ensuring that I can squirt practically on demand. I demonstrated this ability several times in the company of about ten other couples. Confident, bold, aroused? That’s me, a little more so with each experience like this.
And then we ventured into the Playroom again, solidifying our exhibitionist tendencies.
I practically dragged Jack back to the playroom on Thursday night. Like puppies ready to play, we bounded into the room. We were one of the first couples to arrive that night, and we had our choice of mattresses. We chose one in the corner, away from the door and counter.
It was quiet as we lay down on the mattress, focusing our attention on each other, stroking each other, kissing, and looking each other in the eyes. Had we ever felt closer, more connected, more “one” than on this vacation where all we focused on was pleasuring ourselves and each other?
Others started to drift into the room. One guy authoritatively made his way to the counter, plugged in his phone, and blasted the Fifty Shades of Gray soundtrack.
Meanwhile, Jack fingered me, already an expert in the techniques that our tantric class had taught us the day before. Armed with the encouragement of the sexy, pleasure-seeking tantra teacher, I decided not to hold back my moans. I let loose. I shook, I squirted, I giggled with glee as I orgasmed from his fingers again and again.
Beyond warmed up, I pulled him on top of me and insisted that he fuck me with his cock, now, so that I could press his body against my clit for that ultimate release. It was a little death, the death of the old Eliza, the Eliza that is afraid of what others think, who second guesses her every move, that puts others’ needs above her own. The Eliza that doesn’t say what she really means, the Eliza that doesn’t speak up. That Eliza died somewhere during my orgasms in the Hedo playroom, and a new Eliza was born. I like this one better, thank you very much. She’s like the old Eliza, but sexier. She’s confident and inspired, with a chiseled muse who stimulates her mind and loins alike.
“God, I hope everyone saw you,” Jack whispered into my ear as we lay there, sweaty and panting. “You liked that, you naughty girl.” Oh, yes, I had liked that very much indeed. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, albeit I had no energy for words at that moment. My smile said it all, I’m sure.
I couldn’t keep my hands off Jack. We left that playroom just as aroused as we had entered it. We fucked more back in our room. Jack was getting to the point in the vacation where he was begging me for mercy, joking that we’d need to get some other people in bed with us to help him out. Of course, that was just a joke. Right…?
Wait, do we want to be swingers?
It didn’t occur to us until our very last night at Hedo that we may actually be “in the lifestyle.”
People all week had been introducing themselves and opening up conversation with the question, “Are you in the lifestyle?” It’s a common refrain as we all figure out each other’s motives for vacationing at a nude sex resort.
According to Hedo stats, there’s a mix of demographics at the resort at any given time. About half of the people that attend are swingers, looking for sexual adventures with other people. The other half is a mix of nudists and sexually open people, those wanting a sexy vacation, but not necessarily involving others. We had thought ourselves in the latter half.
We answered everyone honestly, with our story as we had come to understand it. “No, we’re not in the lifestyle…we just like to be naked and we’re really into sex” or “Oh, we just love sex and being naked and hanging out with other people who like the same.”
We noticed that we’d often get asked a more blunt follow up question to our answer: “So…do you guys swing?” Nope, we weren’t really interested. We only liked having sex with each other, a lot. We tried some stuff in college, but we had only ever had sex with each other, so…no…but we have been enjoying the playroom here…
As we offered details on our exploits, we’d notice people exchanging knowing glances with their spouse. To their credit, all the friends that we confused with our flaky answer never questioned us further, let alone corrected us, and allowed us to continue with our stories while they offered courtesy and smiles.
My career involves research, so you’d think that perhaps I would have looked into more details about swinging before I went to such a resort. I did listen to podcasts about Hedo, but not about swinging — because I wasn’t a swinger. There was still a somewhat dirty connotation with that act in my mind, as if experiencing sexual pleasure with more than one person in my life would condemn me and my offspring to eternal flames.
I hadn’t even really registered the terminology yet; I thought that when people said, “in the lifestyle,” then they meant swinging, full swap. Having sex with other people’s spouses, maybe either in front of the other or full swap in separate locations. Very key party-esque. I’d never do that — so, I wasn’t in the lifestyle. I was just a lady who liked getting naked and having sex.
Oh, and I also liked the idea of turning other guys on.
And flirting with women.
Flirting with everyone, really.
And maybe getting touchy with a woman. I love how soft women are, how delicate they are compared to Jack…
I liked the idea of a more experienced woman, bolder than me, touching me. I would like to touch her in return, under her guidance. I’d kissed women before, and I liked it. I liked Jack’s reaction to it, too, which was essentially a shot of adrenaline combined with arousal.
But that time we had sex in the same room as all those other couples in the dorm room made things get a little weird between us all, at least for a little while the following day. Maybe there were just too many people…eight is a lot for a first time.
Even so, Jack still fantasizes about fucking me in front of another couple. He loves the idea of being watched, but not getting into trouble. He’s a little bit of a rule follower like that. I think it’s a control thing. We certainly demonstrated how much I enjoyed that in the playroom.
What if we had sex side by side, with a couple that we both liked and felt attracted to? There were many attractive couples that we enjoyed hanging out with. We’d met people that we would have had such fun with as regular old vanilla friends. Could you just have sex with your friends? Didn’t that sound…fun? Arousing?
What did being “in the lifestyle” mean? What did it mean that we were opening up our minds to sexual possibilities and experiences that we hadn’t ever considered before? I had experimented with exhibitionism, and I liked it. I felt attracted to several of the women that we had befriended on our trip, and I found myself yearning to explore that feeling more. Jack and I noted that we didn’t feel jealous about the other interacting sexually with others; it was, in fact, a bit of a turn-on.
I didn’t think that we qualified as a couple “in the lifestyle” before we went on our trip. But there we were, backs aching from a week of nearly nonstop thrusting, laying in our bed holding hands, gazing at our reflections in the mirror positioned just so on the ceiling, adding it all up…
And it was just like that scene in Clueless. The fountains flared, and we realized at precisely the same moment, Oh my God…I love Josh!
But replace “love” with “want to” and “Josh” with “open up our marriage and invite in other people.”
But now what?
Indeed, we found ourselves in the same boat as Cher as we headed home from what had been a week filled with self discovery and sexual exploration. We had no clue where to go next.
Leroy was our driver for our return to the airport. “Well?” he asked us with expectation, waiting for us to recount a dirty story or perhaps get in one last fuck in the back of the cab before heading home to real life.
Jack shook his head, laughing. “I don’t even know where to begin, or where we go from here.” Leroy smirked, and then let us sit in quiet contemplation as we said goodbye to Jamaica, wondering what was in store for us at home, in the lifestyle.