Chapter 11: The Orange Grove

We fell into a wonderful rut the next day. When we woke, Debby and I would screw once or twice, then get up and go to breakfast. Then we would change into swimsuits and head for the beach. At lunch, we would have something on the boardwalk, and maybe do some browsing in the multitude of shops along it. Then back to the beach until early afternoon.

Afterward we’d head back to our room, where we’d take a shower together, making sure to wash sand out of every possible crevice. Sometimes we’d fuck in the shower, other times we’d wait until we got out. We’d screw and nap the rest of the afternoon, and then go out to dinner. After dinner, we’d take a long walk, then back to our room. Debby would put on a nightie or such, and we’d usually fuck once on the couch in front of the television. Then we’d go to bed and bang away once or twice more.

What a way to spend a vacation!

I learned why Debby had such a large number of suitcases. She had apparently packed every sexy nightgown, dress, skirt, blouse, and swimsuit she owned. No underwear, however, and no pantyhose, just stockings, both thigh-high and garter-length. Every day she wore a different swimsuit, mostly bikinis, every evening a different dress or outfit, all showcasing her breasts and legs, and every night a different nightie, all sheer and easily fucked in.

Of course, a little variety helps, also. One day, we were both out in the ocean, and her suit got me going. It was a sheer white one-piece number that became translucent when wet. I was wearing some cutoff shorts. I simply unzipped the zipper, and pulling her to me, pulled the crotch of her suit to one side and entered her. We were chest deep, so I also pulled one tit out of the top. If anyone saw us, they must have figured we were simply embracing. While not exactly the most comfortable position, for either of us, Debby responded enthusiastically. It took us several minutes before we both came, during which time sand got in rather inappropriate places, and we both damn near drowned. Still, I’m glad we did it, if only to say so.

Another day, rather than go to the boardwalk, we bought a cooler full of beer, and drove out to Lighthouse Point. North Beach lies on the north side (obviously!) of a small peninsula sticking out into the ocean. It has a marvelous white sand beach. The south side is rather rocky and is fairly undeveloped, having a hellacious rip tide. The tip has an abandoned light house on it, and it and the south side are set up as a bird refuge. Still, you can drive out there for sun and fun if you want.

It was midweek and fairly empty out there. We rubbed oil on ourselves and lay down on a blanket to catch rays and drink beer. By early afternoon we were alone. Debby rubbed some more oil on my back and lay down on her stomach so I could rub some on hers.

Looking around, I could see nothing but sand dunes and sandpipers. Straddling her, I untied her bikini top and poured a fair amount of oil down her back. This I rubbed in well, not just oiling her, but massaging her as well. Then, I moved down to her feet. Pouring more oil on each leg, I slowly moved my way northward, oiling and massaging as I went. Debby’s eyes were closed, but she was only half asleep, murmuring contentedly. When I reached her buttocks, I untied the strings holding her bikini bottom on. Gently pulling the fabric to the sides, and down between her legs, I proceeded to pour more oil on her upturned ass. I oiled this area most carefully and massaged both cheeks and the cleft between them.

Debby seemed unbelievably relaxed. Taking once last look around, and seeing nothing but isolation, I made my move. Kneeling between her widespread legs, I pushed my swimsuit down to my knees. I leaned forward gently and placed my erection in the crack of her oily ass. Debby’s eyes opened wide as my cockhead probed for her anus, but her hands snaked back and spread her cheeks wide. Slowly, but surely, my well lubricated cock slipped into her asshole. Debby moaned her pleasure as I sank to the hilt. My hairy balls were tickling the backs of her thighs before I stopped. Resting a moment to allow her tail to accommodate me, I soon began a slow-motion ass fuck. I’d pull out until only the head was buried, then slowly move back in. Debby moved her hands beneath her, and her breathing became more ragged as she diddled her clit. I was resting my weight on my extended arms and hands, only my hips moving, in and out, in and out. I made this a long fuck, and she came several times. Then, my endurance being stretched to the breaking point, Debby clamped her asshole around me, and one final plunge took me over the top. I spewed for what seemed an eternity, and Debby swore she could feel every pulsing jet of my jism coat her entrails.

But, still, none of this was all that unusual. I mean, everybody has fucked al fresco on occasion. I remember, shortly before we got married, Debby and I went camping in the mountains. Five minutes after setting up camp, we were buck naked and rutting by the campfire. Even the bit in the ocean. Why, hell, one time we tore off a quickie in Jerry and Carol’s pool, when they went inside to make drinks!

But then, towards the end of the week, Friday night, something occurred which I’ll never forget. It was about quarter to nine in the evening. We had finished dinner and were taking a long walk back to the motel. Debby looked good. She was wearing a skintight black knit dress, with an unbelievably low-cut front, and a really short hemline. Underneath she was wearing nothing but very long black fishnet stockings, long enough to come right up to her crotch. I knew that was all she was wearing because I had watched her dress. Four-inch stiletto heels finished the effect, and as we walked back, I was keeping an eye out for secluded sites to fuck her in. She was really turning me on, and I could think of nothing but lifting the dress to her waist, while pulling the straps off her shoulders, and taking her right then.

But before I could put my plans into action, we passed by this bar, the Orange Grove. Debby asked to go in, she was thirsty, and wanted a drink. Well, that was cool. I mean, like I said, booze tended to lower her already almost nonexistent inhibitions. Two drinks made her want to fuck. Three, and she’d be ready to take on the Michigan State Wolverines. And four! She’d take on a pack of real wolverines! A cheap date. I figured that with a couple of drinks in her Debby’d be in the mood for anything I wanted to do to her later. So, I shrugged and opened the door.

Inside, a large weightlifter type in a bright orange shirt asked for our cards. I was surprised. I mean, we may not be all that ancient, but we both look over twenty-one. I pulled out my driver’s license, and said my wife’s was in her purse in the motel. He just waved them aside and directed us to a small table. Confused, we walked over to a lovely young lady in a strapless fluorescent orange mini dress standing behind it. Maybe orange was the designated color at the ‘Orange Grove’.

“No membership cards? No problem! Just sign here,” she said brightly, handing us a pair of postcard size forms. I looked at Debby, and this time she shrugged at me, so we signed. While we did this, the hostess tore a couple of smaller cards off a perforated roll and initialed them. Handing them to us, she said, “There’s a ten-dollar membership fee, but your first night here, the first two drinks are on the club.” Ah, hah! A cover charge! Oh, well, we’d already gone this far, I forked over a sawbuck. We entered a large dark barroom, with a stage at one end, with a section extending into the room. For bands, I thought.