After a routine flight and a ferry to the outer island , we were happily unpacking in our cottage and eager to get out to the water. Swimsuits on, sunscreen and towels packed in a carryall, we were off on the short walk along a tree-lined path.
We approached the beach where the trees and undergrowth thinned and we could see the white sand and breathtaking blue-green water. A few scattered sailboats sliced through the gently rolling ocean, their passengers enjoying a drink and the restorative sunshine. It looked like a postcard.
We spread our beach blanket out at an inviting spot opposite our cottage, which we could glimpse through the palms and pines that shaded it. Just a short distance to the right from our vantage point was another cottage, but it was the only other structure close by. Up the coast were condos and hotels and casinos, but the view to them was blocked by dunes.
Down in the opposite direction were more scattered cottages like ours and further on a couple of palatial private homes with their own boatyards. They were far enough away to be of no consequence to us. Our section of the island was still sparsely developed. How much longer that would be we didn’t know. Developers can hardly help themselves when there is land that’s not overbuilt to beat hell.
We lay down on the blanket side by side, Vanessa wearing her classic two piece that compliments her athletic figure.
Although approaching 50, my wife is in great shape, the embodiment of sexy, mature womanhood. I lay there admiring her beauty, her soft skin glistening from the sunscreen she had applied. She had a hint of a contented smile on her face as we held hands, enjoying the warm air, the soft ocean breezes, and the sound of the surf.
Although we might look like the standard issue married couple — buttoned-down and conservative — Vanessa and I have a hidden side to us that most people would be shocked to learn. We don’t indulge it very often, but when we do it’s utterly fantastic. You see, we swing a little. Not much, mind, but occasionally we feel like exploring the world beyond our contented marriage. In truth, it makes us infinitely happier and we feel very fortunate to be together.
Vanessa is a bit more adventurous than me, but my natural diffidence doesn’t prevent me from vicariously enjoying what she does. And in the course of our nearly twenty years of marriage, there are only a dozen instances where we’ve stepped out. The first few times were when V had sex with other men, and then only under the condition that I be allowed to watch. The experience was intoxicating. V made love to these men with evident gusto and being cuckolded strangely aroused me to an extent that I had seldom experienced before.
About ten years ago, V indulged my fantasy of watching her make love to another woman. Although doing it for me, I was gratified to see that she enjoyed herself, and in a couple of subsequent encounters, the other woman was open to my joining the fun. Vanessa admitted that watching me do the third member of our group “turned her all the way on.” But those occasions were all the better because they were rare, and we certainly had no expectation that this week in the sun and surf would be anything out of the ordinary.
We had not been laying there very long when a woman called out from slightly behind us. “Hello there!” she said brightly. “I don’t want to startle you by sneaking up!”
“Hi,” Vanessa replied with a friendly smile.
The woman appeared to be in her early 50s, with dark features and a body that was absolutely stunning. She wore a yellow two piece which accentuated her richly tanned skin, and her bottom half was covered by a colorful wraparound. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head, the wind blowing wisps of it in various directions across her face.
She introduced herself as Karen, our neighbor from the other cottage on the lane. We invited her to join us and she set her bag down and laid out her towel. In just a minute she was comfortably arrayed, wearing a big straw hat and sunglasses. I couldn’t help sneaking glances at her impressive body. If she’d had her breasts done, and it seemed likely, they were damn good work. The image of my hard cock sliding between them entertained me while the ladies talked.
Karen told us that she was vacationing with her son, which we found curious, but she quickly explained (perhaps a little too quickly) that her husband was originally scheduled to join them but had been called away on critical business. He’d hoped to join his wife and son during the second week, but it appeared even that was impossible. As a result, Karen and Paul had been enjoying the island on their own.
Soon Paul emerged from the grove and came over to say hello. He was a handsome young man in his mid-20s who had graduated from an upscale New England college and now worked for his father in a junior capacity at the family’s firm. Paul had a generous head of curly hair and an athletic frame as a result of his years playing college Lacrosse. His complexion was somewhat lighter than his mother’s.
After a few minutes of polite conversation, Paul excused himself to take a swim. He effortlessly pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted body that V obviously admired. He walked confidently down to the surf, wading in several yards, oblivious to the waves. Once he was far enough out he began to swim parallel to the beach. His freestyle was graceful and expert, and I could see V watching his every move. I would be sure to ask her what she was thinking when Karen was safely out of earshot.
I tried to keep my thoughts in the here and now and not let my mind wander to images of Karen and V in bed together, or even naughtier, V and Paul going at it. Yes, Karen had the body of a mature porn star, but as far as I could tell she was a respectable, well-to-do lady on vacation with her son.
While Paul swam back and forth past our position, I lay contentedly to V’s right and Karen was to her left. My wife has a peculiar facility for getting people to open up to her. Sometimes she does absolutely nothing and an hour will have gone by and a person spilled out their life story. Other times, V will deploy her natural curiosity and ask a few leading questions that will elicit highly personal details, as if the other party has known Vanessa her whole life.
So it was now with Karen, who confided a great many details about herself, seemingly forgetting that I was even there. Each time Karen felt obliged to ask about us, V would talk a minute or two and then turn it right back to Karen, who never seemed to realize what was happening.
Just after Paul finished swimming and before the four of us retired to our respective cottages for a quiet afternoon, Vanessa invited Karen and her son over to our place for after-dinner drinks. Paul was understandably hesitant to spend an evening listening to the old folks, but a glance from his mother told him he would indeed make an appearance, at least for a suitable length of time, after which he could drive down the coast to visit his girlfriend, whose family was also visiting the island.