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My husband and I love to escape from family, friends, and careers for a few days from time to time, to build and renew our intense soul-mate relationship. It is one of the things we do that has kept our marriage so strong for over six years. Usually, it is a nearby romantic weekend, or even checking into a motel for a night during the week. But this time, we were to spend a week on a secluded tropical isle. The airport shuttle bus picked us up from our home about 9:00 AM. One of the other passengers was a young woman carrying a big golf bag. She was all excited about all the rounds of golf she would soon be playing in a far-off city.
“My condolences,” I smiled at her.
“Why, what do you mean?”
“You’re spending your whole vacation chasing balls around the sand and water.”
“And what will YOU two be doing?”
“Renewing and strengthening our relationship. Mostly making out nude on the beach, skinny-dipping together in the ocean. If all goes well, we’re in for a week of non-stop marathon sex in our troipical island paradise!”
My man patted my thigh and smiled. “Sounds great to ME, honey!” he grinned.
“I can hardly WAIT to get started,” we both sang out in unison, then giggled at how in tune we always seem to be with each other, so often saying the same thing at the same time.
The shuttle-bus driver piped in: “So your vacations will be pretty similar: both of you ladies will be chasing balls around on the sand and in the water!”
A male passenger of about 55, starting to get that distiunguished gray in his hair, offered to trade vactions with us: “I’m off on a boring business trip to Chicago. A week of sex on a tropical island sounds MUCH better to me. Hell, even that GOLF thing sounds better right now!”
“My golf game IS in Chicago!” the other lady said.
“Well, there you go,” the matchmaker in me declared. “You can both hold each other warm in that bitter Chicago wind, and find ways to relieve the boredom.”
On hearing my suggestion, the other two passengers very slowly looked each other up and down. They seemed to like what they saw in each other, and I wondered if I might have successfully made a love-match.
We had both worked so hard, scrimped and saved so much for so long, just to have this private week alone together in our tropical paradise. Maybe we shouldn’t have teased the other passengers, but we were proud and happy about the adventure we were about to embark on, and we are both uninbhibited enough to love to shock people a little with our open, bold sexuality.
Now we had to take two planes and a boat to reach our remote island resort. By the time we checked-in, it was after 11 PM and we were both way too tired after traveling all day, to get started on our planned week-long marathon love match of our own. But we did kiss and hug naked in bed for a little while, before contentedly falling asleep in each other’s loving arms.
The next morning, we hiked 800 feet up a nearby mountain, through nearly two miles of lush green tropical rain forest. It was so cool and dark on the hiking trail, and the only sound was the distant clacking of some exotic birds. You never knew what exotic plant lay just around the next curve in the trail: everywhere was a symphony of bright red, dazzling orange, shimmering black, and vibrant yellow tropical flowers. We stopped from time to time to photograph each other in front of some exotic plant or breathtaking scenic view of sheer cliffs, lush valleys, or cool, clear waterfalls. We had packed a picnic lunch, so we stopped to eat at a scenic spot along the trail, then continued hiking.
For two months before our trip, we had prepared for this hike with an hour each morning of intensive exercise, a mix of walking, high-impact aerobics, and weight training. As we hiked, I thought about all that exercising, and I was grateful for how it had whipped us into shape for this uphill hike over a rocky trail, criss-crossed by thick tree roots. I remembered how he would exercise wearing only his Calvin Klein cotton bikini underwear, socks, and walking shoes. I would exercise in my lavender cotton tank-top, black or purple cotton bikini panties, and tennis shoes. He would appreciatively eye my dark, shapely Latina legs and exposed cleavage. For my part, I would admire the glistening beads of sweat slowly sliding down his hairy, muscular chest. I thought about all of this now, as we finally took the hike for which we had been preparing so long and so hard.
About half a mile up the trail, these memories were already turning me on. Then he complained of the heat, and he pulled his T-shirt off over his head. I couldn’t resist surreptiously photographing him shirtless. When he caught me snapping his photo, I smiled. “Something for me to remember my jungle man by later,” I giggled.
Then I put on a serious look. “But you know, this really isn’t fair!” I pretended to complain. “You get to take off your shirt, but I don’t!”
“Hey, if you want to take bursa escort of your shirt, honey, you’ll hear no complaints from ME!” he joked. “I hear the native girls used to walk around these parts topless 200 years ago!”
“Well, much as I like your idea, sweetie, this is a different time and a different culture. I could be in BIG trouble if I got caught going native.”
Still, the sight of him walking around the woods topless, the knowledge that I now had a photo of him shirtless in the jungle to admire any time I wanted to (especially when I get the 3 PM hornies), and the thought of me naughtily going topless too, was by now turning me on SO much. So without saying a word, I pulled him by the hand off the trail and into the depths of the thick greenery. I was too horny to think clearly: what of snakes or bugs in the forest, or poison ivy or oak, or wet moldiness on the forest floor? None of that even entered my mind as I hungrily tugged his T-shirt over his head and hurriedly unzipped his jeans shorts. He made short work of my own T-shirt, and he smiled in delight when he found I had no bra underneath. “My lovely island girl, not even a coconut bra on!” he smiled. We grabbed each other around the neck, then around the waist, and we kissed fiercely, hungrily, wrestling each other down to the moss-carpeted forest floor.
“Mmmm!” he moaned. “And all of this only a month before Christmas! I hope Santa doesn’t see you now, you naughty girl!”
“Hey, if you take off your pants and make passionate, intense love with me right here and right now, I won’t need any other Christmas present! Remember the Christmas song ‘All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth?’ Well,” I started singing, “All I want for Christmas is your stiff, hard cock. All I want for Christmas is a deep, hard fuck.”
Lying beside me, he slowly kissed his way down my neck, over my breasts, around my achingly-hard nipples, past my navel, and down onto my bare thighs. In one swift motion, I tugged his hiking shorts down to his ankles, watching his hard-on pop out straight in front of him. “Mmmmmm!” I moaned, knowing only the birds could hear us now. “Who needs Santa? Merry Christmas to ME! NNNNNNICE present!”
“I want you!” he moaned between hungry kisses on my thighs.
“I need you in me,” I whispered my agreement. I wrapped my hand around his long, thick, hard, pulsating cock, and eagerly guided it to my moist opening. “Stiff cock me, baby!” I whined as his big, bulbous cock head knocked at my entrance. “Do you think you can fuck me quietly, so other hikers don’t hear us?”
“Me?” he laughed. “You just try to control your moaning!”
As he slowly slid inch after loving inch into my juicy, needy slit, I felt that pleasant ache of the first stages in building toward an explosive orgasm. I also felt the tropical heat, even under the thick, lush forest vegetation. As beads of sweat streamed slowly, seductively down our bodies, my climax was probably still half an hour away, but I was feeling SO good already. As he slowly slid in and out of me, he cupped my bare ass cheeks, adding to my pleasure. I started to moan, I swear I couldn’t help myself. He enclosed his mouth over mine, and the combination of being kissed and fucked so passionately made me want to moan all the louder. But with his mouth completely covering mine, he seemed to swallow my moans every time he inhaled. But even with all his efforts to keep us from being detected, we didn’t get too far along, when I thought I heard voices on the trail.
He just kept kissing me and pounding away at my very pliable, willing and eager, hot little pussy. Not that I minded in the least. But couldn’t he hear the other hikers on the trail? The fear of discovery was making my heart pound even harder than his lovemaking was. Why didn’t he stop this wonderful lovemaking? I debated with myself whether to stop him, to pull myself away from him, and say something to him, or just keep going. I finally decided that avoiding embarassment was more important than continuing to act on our passions. “Oh, DAMN! Damn, damn, DAMN!”
“I think there are other hikers on the trail. Maybe this isn’t the best place to do this,” I whispered. “We could get caught!” I tossed his shirt to him. “Here, better get dressed. And HURRY!”
Reluctantly, we both stood up and hastily dressed. We looked up and down the trail, but the vegetation was so thick and so dark that we couldn’t see anybody. That was good, because it meant that if anyone HAD gone by, they couldn’t see us, either. Still, we both decided that this spot was just too risky, and we continued our hike through the rain forest.
Further up the mountain trail, we rounded a curve to find a spectacular water fall cascading into a small pond. The best sex we ever had was under a waterfall, so the temptation was too strong to resist. Besides, from the pond, we could spot hikers long before they would round the bend and be able to see us. So we raced each other to get out of bursa escort bayan our clothes and start skinny-dipping. I won, and I was quickly swimming across the pond to the waterfall. He was swimming in hot pursuit only a few strokes behind me. I stood up, naked, under the waterfall, and relished the warm tropical water cascading through my hair and down my naked body. He stood up beside me, and I watched the glistening beads of pure mountain water streaming over his muscular chest. Instinctively, hungrily, we wrapped our arms around each other and kissed passionately, lustily, our bodies pressed tight against each other under the waterfall. His fingers massaged the outside of my pussy, just below the water-line. Then his long, thin middle finger slowly slid into me, massaging my G-spot and my hard, throbbing clit.
That’s when I wrapped my fingers around his nice thick cock, and when I felt it pulsing and throbbing in my palm, I felt my heart beat faster and I grew short of breath. I wrapped my legs around his waist, the pond water bouying-up my weight. With my feet pressed into his muscular butt cheeks, I slowly impaled my pussy on his long, hard, throbbing rod. The warm water above and the hot cock below were an indescribably wonderful combination of sensations. I hungrily kissed his lips, and soon our tongues were wildly, happily, joyously dancing around in each other’s mouths, as I rode him so hard and he fucked me so lovingly. After maybe 35, 40 minutes of slow, hot, delicious fucking, I exploded hot, thick love juices all over his deeply-thrusting cock. Moments later, I felt his hot blast deep, deep, DEEP inside of me. My legs dropped back down from around his waist into the water, and we held each other, still joined at the lips and at the genitals. That’s when we heard voices up on the trail. We swam back to the rock where we had piled our clothes and, still soaking wet in more ways than one, we hastily dressed again. After the voices passed us and faded away into the distance, we rejoined the trail, hiking further up the mountain.
The trail ended about halfway up the mountain, at the most spectular waterfall yet. The water dropped 450 feet straight down a sheer vertical cliff, into a pond completely hidden by tall tropical plants. It was getting late now, and we figured no new hikers would be starting up the trail now to disturb us. So we stripped again, and jumped in the pond. The water was cooler than the previous waterfall; refreshingly cool, but not bitterly cold. Still, as we held each other under the waterfall, goose-bumps formed on both of us. So we climbed out of the pond, onto a large flat rock. He bent me backward over the rock, and I felt the blood rushing to both my head and my pussy. He climbed up on top of me, and with both hands I hungrily, eagerly guided his long, thick cock into my desperately hungry slit. My pussy was loudly smacking in pre-orgasmic anticipation. We were much more exposed than on our previous trysts, so with my encouragement, he slammed into me deep, hard, and fast. After about my fifth shaking, moaning, trembling orgasm, I begged him to come. And he did. I felt the very depths of my pussy–the very depths of my SOUL–splattered with his thick, warm love juices. I pulled back, letting him slip out of me, enjoying the sensation of his warm, powerful blasts onto my bare thighs.
We dressed and started a fast walk down the mountain. The sunset ahead of us was a beautiful golden-red. We got about three quarters of the way back down the mountain before the sun set completely, and we held each other’s hands to guide each other through the darkness at the bottom of the trail. We returned to our resort with sore feet and legs, and sore organs from coming so much, but also filled from head to toe with the warm glow of love and fulfilled desires.
The next day, we stayed in bed, resting most of the morning. Then we spent about an hour in the resort’s Jacuzzi, soothing our overworked muscles from the previous day’s mountain hike. We were a little disappointed that we didn’t have the Jacuzzi to ourselves, but we were too sore to play there anyway. In the Jacuzzi was when I first noticed large red welts on my legs. In the heat of our previous day’s passion, I had been oblivious to just about every sight, sound, and sensation outside of us, and I hadn’t seen or felt the mosquitoes biting at me on the forest floor. I counted them now, in the Jacuzzi: 23 bites in all! I must really be in love, I thought, not to have seen or felt all those bites before now! Oh well, at least they had bitten only my legs. It could have been far worse: I had been lying naked on the forest floor, yet they had not attacked my bare breasts or my cock-stuffed pussy.
“Were YOU bitten, honey?” I asked soliticously. I checked him from head to toe. He escaped with only one bite, on the back of his leg, but it was much bigger and redder than any of my bites. I was glad they hadn’t attacked his cock, so we could still share pleasure bursa bayan escort in the days ahead. “You look so good, so tempting, if you aren’t careful, I might bite you myself,” I joked. “Nice, hot little love bites!”
In the afternoon, we explored the quaint little village near our tropical resort: nothing too strenuous after the previous day’s tough hike. We stopped in a local drug store and bought an anti-itch cream specifically for insect bites. He lovingly, attentively applied the ointment all over my legs. “You have such sexy legs, even the mosquitoes can’t resist them,” he grinned.
That evening, we dined at a quaint little restaurant in town, serving native island cuisine. The restaurant had a spectacular view of the ocean and the island’s mountains. All through dinner, my mind raced between enjoying the view, the company of the man I love, and resisting the urge to scratch my 23 mosquito bites. After a tasty and romantic meal, we then returned to our resort.
We watched a movie on TV for a while. As luck would have it, the movie Bounty was on. The sight of the Bounty being greeted by lovely topless island girls was very romantic and exciting, especially since we were in our own tropical island love-nest. And then the shirtless Mel Gibson making out with the Hawaiian king’s naked daughter got us both pretty worked up. In no time at all, we were ready to switch off the movie. I was in the mood for something more, much more than the meager entertainment that the TV could provide, and I know my loving man was in the mood to entertain me, too. I momentarily hesitated, fearing that the friction of our coupling might further irritate the mosquito bites up both my legs. But my love and desire overcame my fear and trepidation, so I turned to him and asked, “Is it 3 o’clock yet?” That’s our code signal.
You see, while he’s away at the office, most days about 3:00 PM I start thinking about him. About how good and kind and decent and wonderful he is. How loving he has been to me and our son for over six years now. How even after a tough day at work, he helps out cooking meals, or cleaning-up dishes and pots and pans, cleaning the house, doing laundry, mowing the lawn, or whatever else needs doing around the house, without me having to ASK him. He just sees a job that needs doing and does it, which is one of the many, many reasons I just love him SO much! So as I was saying, about 3:00 PM on most days I start aching for his loving arms around me, and I start thinking about how he’ll be home in just a couple of hours, and that’s when I start getting horny as hell for him. Or sometimes I awaken at 3 AM and watch him lying naked and peaceful beside me, his musuclar chest rising and falling with each sleepy breath, and my heart is filled with such sweet love for him, and I get SO desperately horny just watching him. Sometimes I’ll just watch him at 3 AM, sometimes I’ll start kissing his chest or licking and sucking his cock or slipping my pussy down over him. So “Is it 3 o’clock yet?” has become our code for “I’m horny, are you?”; it applies equally to 3 AM and 3 PM, and we can say this to each other even out in public, and only we know what it REALLY means.
“Is it 3 o’clock yet?” I asked. “Because I have this sheer, sexy outfit I packed, that I’m just dying to model for you.”
“Sounds GREAT! I’ve been dying to show you MY new naughty outfit, too. It’s 3 o’clock as far as MY watch is concerned!” So saying, he switched off the TV, and I disappeared into the bathroom.
I emerged in a tight, form-fiting black leather dress, miniskirt length, that zips all the way down the front. Much to my surprise, we almost matched: he wore only a black leather G-string with an exaggerated zipper in front. We sat on the edge of the bed, kissing and hugging. With our arms around each other, our kisses alternated between each other’s lips and necks, punctauted by occasional nibbles on each other’s ears. Soon, we had wrestled each other down horizontal onto the bed where, facing each other, we continued our passionate kisses.
He slowly unzipped the top of my black leather dress, revealing a sheer purple lace peekaboo bra underneath. He instantly, eagerly, hungrily dove for my cleavage, planting sweet and romantic kisses, followed by hungry and passionate kisses. Soon, his lusty kisses circled all around the cimcumference of my full, round breasts, spiraling inward, slowly inward, until he was eagerly kissing, licking, and sucking my nipples through the peekaboo holes in my bra, making my nipples so hard they literally ached. I was grabbing his head, pulling him in closer to my 38-C chest, wanting him, loving him, enjoying him ssssoooo much.
I reached down and began slowly rubbing my palm up and down the front of his black G-string. This encouraged him to unzip my black leather dress still further, and as he sweetly kissed my navel, I began massaging him through his G-string even more eagerly. This encouraged him to unzip me still further, exposing the very top of my frilly purple lace bikini panties. He began massaging my pussy right THROUGH my pretty little panties, then he unzipped the last inch of my dress, and folded it back open all the way now, finally fully exposing my skimpy peekaboo bra, bare midriff, and skimpy little panties.
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