My Honeymoon

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Wife Watching, Gang Bang, Interracial, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Stacie and Cole fly to a exclusive swingers resort for a honeymoon. While there they meet a few new friends who would like to congratulate the new bride. All at once.

The small prop plane began it's decent from the crystal blue sky towards the water below. The plane vibrated with the spinning propeller as we began the all too slow decent towards our fantasy vacation. I glanced over at my young wife, her short dark hair pushed back behind her ears, covered by her large floppy white sunhat and her dark sun glasses searching the small island below, scanning it from shore to shore, excitement evident as she glanced back at me, a beautiful innocent smile crossing her soft pink lips. We had been married less than twenty-four hours and had spent the whole night traveling nearly five thousand miles, but she looked none the less for wear. She was by far the most stunning woman I had ever known and in the shifting morning light, she surpassed my wildest dreams.

It wasn't until I was almost thirty-five that I found the perfect girl. I'm not sure if it was the right timing, her wonderful adventurous attitude, or the absolute unadulterated lust that she inspired within me that made me take the final jump. All I knew was that we fit together like no one I had ever been with. My world wanderings over and my overwhelming wanderlust finally quenched, Stacie and I were married in a simple ceremony on on the beach overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. She was 28, a few years younger than me and her body was magnificent. She was in no way thin, but a voluptuous brunette with dark short hair and a seducing smile that heated my blood every time she was happy. She had a long Celtic knot work tattoo just above her full curving ass, one of the biggest turn ons I have ever known. She always wore simple attire, almost hippieish, earth tones that accented her seemingly continuous cinnamon tan. Her legs were long and lean, her thighs sweet and soft and her breasts, although not large, were beautiful, ending in a pert brownish pink nipple. But her most sensuous feature was her eyes, so dark that they appeared almost black, depthless and inviting. She was a simple girl, she had no piercing except a single diamond stud which she wore in each ear and often the only jewelry she wore was a silver and onyx toe ring on her right foot and a simple thin gold chain with a small cross.

But despite her simple beauty, Stacie had no shame in the bed room. She would do what ever it took to satisfy her needs. This one factor had been perhaps the greatest factor in my decision to ask for her hand. And it was for this reason that we chose the Caribbean as our destination for a honeymoon of a lifetime. While this destination in itself may not be unusual, our choice of locations was not an extravagant cruise liner or the relaxing beach resort on Jamaica or St. Croix.

Our honeymoon destination of choice was a small island with a little known resort known simply as Isla dela Diavola.

We came across it on accident while we were searching for some of the more bizarre porn websites on the net. A place where inhibitions are checked at the airport and no taboo is allowed. We simply looked at each other and smiled. No words were said. None were needed. When we finally set the wedding date, my first duty was to get reservations and make the arrangements.

And after many long months of waiting and wishing, we were finally only minutes from living our fantasy.

As the pontoons skimmed only inches above the clear ocean water, there was a tension of impatience that filled the air between us. And as the two floats finally touched down and the plane began to slow, I could hear Stacie let out an almost audible sigh of relief. The pilot coasted easily along side the small dock that floated out some hundred feet from the sandy white shore.

We stepped off the small plane onto the wood planking of the dock and almost instantly we were a million miles from all the cares of our lives, our jobs, our families, our wedding plans, everything.

"I already feel sooo much better," Stacie whispered as she through her arms around my neck and kissed me softly on the lips. The pilot handed us our bag, just a small back pack really filled with only the necessities. After all, half the fun of La Diavola is not having to pack.

We walked hand in hand up the dock and across the brilliant beach, marveling at our new wonderland. A small path opened up before us into the prevailing jungle. We walked along the sand trail, amazed by the green island growth that was all around us. The thick jungle soon opened up to an enormous clearing with a beautiful white colonial main house. Opening the door, I ushered my new bride inside and followed her into an enormous lobby area, decorated like I could only imagined an old Victorian colonial home could have looked. Shiny marble floors opened up before us, rose colored with roman columns stretching up to the vaulted ceiling, a window at the very top spreading the Caribbean sun over the entire room and making it glisten with a stunning radiance.

We couldn't help but to look around for a moment, dazzled by the luxurious surroundings. Slowly we started forward, still arm in arm, her light white sundress illuminated but the large skylight as we crossed beneath it's black wrought iron framings shaping the clear glass almost like a flower or star, a gorgeous crystal chandelier hanging from it's center, the light refracted through it's small crystals, spreading a rainbow of light through out the room. Her small leather sandals moved across the floor soundlessly as I marveled at my exquisite wife bedazzled by her new surroundings. Even in such simple garb, I couldn't help but think how much she belonged here amongst such beauty.

"We have reservations," I said to the balding Spanish concierge once we finally reached the desk.

With in moments we were on our way to our room at the far end of the complex. Opening the door, the tall black bellman ushered us into our little room. The room was no less beautiful than the lobby, a large Victorian white canopy bed. The room opened up through two French doors to a green clearing, not far from an enormous pool framed by tall palm trees and edged by a small beach that stretched out into a small bay.

On the large cushy bed sat an envelope and two masks. Stacie walked over and sat down, picking up the envelope and opening up the paper inside.

"Tonight is a masquerade party," she exclaimed, her eyes bright with anticipation, "these masks and a bathing suit are all we're supposed to wear!"

She picked up the white mask, trimmed with glitter and small plastic jewels, she pulled the elastic string behind her head and fit the mask to her face.

"Mmm, mysterious." I laughed, picking up the black mask.

"I think this could be fun!" she smiled, even with the mask on, I could see her mischievous look. Throwing the letter down on the bed, she was drawn over to the windows.

"Oh, what a view!" Stacie smiled as I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her slim waist. I kissed her gently on the cheek as we stared out the spotless glass at the tropical paradise.

"We had better start getting ready if we're going to make that party tonight," I said, releasing her and turning to our small bag, "I would hate to miss any of the festivities."

"So true," she smiled, "but I don't think a little snack would spoil my appetite."


The sun was sinking low into the western horizon and the sky was alive with powerful reds and yellow, the dieing embers of the sun's rays bouncing beautifully off the full Caribbean clouds. Stacie and I walked out our back door onto our patio and watched the throng of people that now inhabited the pool area. This scene was probably mimicked at nearly every other resort in this part of the world right now except for one small detail. One common factor that brought a very select group of people to this resort, everyone was naked, or nearly so. It was even from this far as the lights from tiki torches glimmered in the impending darkness, bare breasted beauties from all over the world danced to the island music and enticed the men gathered round, their erections proudly displayed, an unspoken competition for the mates of their peers. La Diabla was a swingers resort, and the only way to make the approval list was as a couple. We walked hand in hand across the soft grass covered clearing already cool with dew towards the fevered party. As we got closer, we could see shadows just at the edge of the torch light already coupled up, at least for the moment, exhibiting their lustful urges without shame, free perhaps for the first time of their inhibitions that swallowed their true desire while at home.

I looked at Stacie briefly, hoping for a brief insight into what she was thinking. She was smiling, a bright beautiful smile that seemed to radiate her excitement and comfort in the nights coming events. The small jewels on her small mask glittered in the flickering glow, a provocative accent against her inescapable beauty. She wore a small black bikini that she bought for the trip, two small triangles curling around her softly rolling breasts and an equally small triangle of black shiny fabric curling down between her legs and around her up around her ass.

We stopped at small round table that sat on the large pool deck already occupied by a slightly older couple, the man maybe in his late thirties, in very good shape, but with dark thinning hair. His wife was about the same age; long curly dirty blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders and framed her face like soft strands of satin. The orange and red light from the flames danced stunningly across her pale freckled shoulders. They too wore small party masks similar to ours.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" I asked, motioning to two open chairs at their table.

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