Chapter 8

We landed at 2:30 in the afternoon, after an uneventful five-hour flight. We caught a cab and headed towards our destination, the Bucuti Resort. Our travel agent had recommended this particular resort. She had told us that it was Dutch–owned, relatively small with only sixty-eight rooms, did not have a lot of activities for children -- and therefore the clientele was restricted to mostly returning couples and young newlyweds -- and best of all, sat on the widest, most picturesque and private stretch of white sand in the Caribbean.

When we checked in we discovered that our agent had informed the staff that we were on our honeymoon. Our host poured us a glass of champagne and brought out a small platter of cheese and fruit. The check-in process was a totally enjoyable affair. We were handed our key, informed that our bags had already been brought up to our room, and were given directions to the elevator and the staircase. Our room, she said, was on the third floor and noting that we were both young and physically fit told us that it would be a lot faster if we took the stairs.

Upon entering our corner room, we were pleasantly surprised to see that it was large, bright and airy. It had a large king-sized bed and best of all a private balcony with a spectacular unobstructed view of the beach and the blue sea beyond.

As quickly as possible we changed into our bathing suits. Mine was a surfer suit that came down to my knees; Patti's was a skimpy two-piece, which if worn at her father's country-club pool would have been called obscene. I had no problem with it; it showcased her muscular body while still maintaining some sense of modesty.

"We'd better put on sunscreen," I said, "especially you with your fair Irish complexion. With Italian heritage, my olive skin will fare a lot better than yours; we don't want to burn the first day we're here."

After applying generous amounts of sunscreen, Patti and I ventured out onto the beach. There were about fifty large grass-thatched umbrellas scattered randomly on the wide sun lit beach. We could tell that many of them were occupied with lounge chairs covered with towels. Others appeared to have been vacated by sun worshipers who had already called it a day. I stopped at the beach hut and grabbed two clean towels out of a rack next to the hut while Patti found us a spot, off to one side on the far edge of the beach.

"This is just perfect," she exclaimed, "the hot sun, the cool shade, a refreshing breeze off of the sea, and our own piece of the beach."

She pulled her chair out into the sun and lay back with a sigh and pulled her baseball cap down until the brim just covered her eyes.

"Bill, please give me about a half an hour and then tell me to turn over. I think that's about all I can take on the first day."

I checked my watch and, at the appointed time, told her to turn. I gave her another half an hour and then warned her to get back in the shade. Reluctantly, she complied.

"Let's go for a walk on the beach."I said.

Donning her beach cover-up, and me an old football jersey, we headed down to the water's edge and turned our backs were to the sun and walked hand-in-hand along the beach. We passed several large hotels; their beaches were packed with brightly colored umbrellas and kids running back and forth between the sea and the beach. Looking at each other we acknowledged the wisdom of our travel agent. We continued up the coast for about a half an hour. The beach narrowed dramatically; no buildings, just a strip of short trees and tall bushes. From our vantage point we could see the main road just behind the trees.

"Maybe we'd better turn around," I said noting the time that we had already walked. "It's going to take us about forty minutes to get back."

When we got back to the Bucuti Hotel's beach, we saw a group of people standing at the shoreline looking at something on the beach. We approached and stood with the others as we watched an environmental ranger gingerly removing what appeared to be large eggs from a dune of sand that was being eroded by the incoming tide.

"These are turtle eggs," he explained. "It seems that mama got confused when she laid these and made her nest much too close to the sea. I'm going to transfer these eggs to a spot further from the water. See where we have the beach roped off? There are several other nests and these eggs will be placed there; they'll never know the difference. The sea turtle is an endangered species and we have to do all we can to give as many of these turtles a chance to survive as possible."

As he was talking, two teenagers, probably no older than sixteen, walked up and stood on the other side of the group. Normally, I wouldn't have given them a second look, especially with my wife standing right behind me. She must have seen me do a double take. There before me was not one, but two sets of bare teenaged breasts. They were deeply tanned, as was the rest of their bodies. I really tried to concentrate on what the ranger was saying but my eyes kept drifting back to their breasts, the sight of which was having a profound effect on my body. Suddenly, I felt the powerful hands of my wife grip my shoulders as she whispered in my ear.

"They're cute, aren't they? It's okay, you can look. But don't touch, and try not to stare."

Feeling like I had already broken my vows, I turned and shamefully headed back to our beach chairs.

When Patti finally caught up to me I could tell by the amused look on her face that she really wasn't mad at me.

"Patti I'm so sorry; they just caught me by surprise. I never expected to see people topless, in public walking on the beach. It won't happen again, I promise."

She smiled and gave me a kiss and a big hug, before replying.

"It's okay, I understand. I know that until we made love that first time that you had never seen a pair of tits before. I understand how they affect you. I think it's sweet that you feel the way you do but don't worry; I won't hold you to a promise that I know you won't be able to keep. I didn't think you heard our travel agent telling us that this island was part of the Dutch West Indies and as such had a definite European atmosphere and that included the European views on topless bathing. We in America can be such prudes when it comes to being topless. You men are hard wired to believe that as soon as you see a pair of tits that it's time for sex. Just remember what I said, you can look but don't touch. If I catch you touching you'll make me very angry; and the last thing you want to do is make me angry at you."

To put an emphasis on her last statement, she began to squeeze me harder than ever before. Soon I was aware that I was rapidly running out of air, her arms not allowing my chest to expand. Just before I began to panic, I felt her loosen her hold on me just enough to allow me to breathe and still keep me from toppling over. Patti looked me straight in the eye and a silent but important lesson had been taught.

"Come on; I think we've had enough excitement for one day. Let's go up to the room and get ready for diner."

We walked arm in arm back to our room, showered and unpacked our bags. Evenings, especially during the hot summer season, are casual; we dressed in jeans. Patti wore a short sleeve blouse and I a collared golf shirt. Armed with a list of places we should try supplied by our trusty travel agent, we went to the concierge and asked her to make reservations for the rest of the week. She pointed to one of the choices where we wouldn't need reservations for tonight and, after agreeing to make the rest of our reservations for the week, called us a cab. It was a flat ten-dollar cab ride to practically every restaurant on the island. Only the restaurant at the lighthouse on the far tip of the island, and a trip into the downtown area, would be five dollars more.

We ate in a restaurant near the high rise American hotels on the next group of beaches. It was a stand-alone restaurant, called the Swiss Chalet and as the name suggested served food with a definite Swiss flare. We had a fine meal and several tall cool mugs of German beer. After diner we walked about a mile down the road, and browsed around the shops in and near the hotels. At one point during the evening Patti asked me to wait outside one of the shops, while she went inside and did a little shopping. When she returned she had a package, but refused to show me what she bought.

"It's a surprise, I'll show you when the time is right."

Thinking that she had bought herself another bathing suit, I told her I could hardly wait.

Agreeing that it had been a long day, we decided to return to our room, and caught a cab back to our hotel.

That night we left the balcony door open and the drapes pulled completely open. The room was filled with the sounds of the surf, the clinking of glasses and muffled laughter from the outside bar three stories below, and the soft glow of a full moon as it shone brightly in the clear star-filled sky.

That night I made love to my beautiful wife. I watched in delight as she wiggled and gyrated under the onslaught of my aggressive tongue. After her third orgasm, she gently pushed me over onto my back and rode me gently until we were both on the brink of another climax. I pulled her down to my chest and she allowed me to roll her over. I made love to her like a man possessed, my strokes long, hard, and fast. Soon we shook in a loud, mutual climax, our bodies becoming as one. As we lay there enjoying the after-glow of our love making, I swear I heard a cheer and the sound of clapping coming from the bar, three stories below. We never learned if their ovation was meant for us or if it was just a coincidence. I like to think the former.

The next morning as we got ready to start our day, I looked in the shower for my bathing suit, which I had rinsed out and left to dry. Not seeing it, I assumed Patti had it in the bedroom.

"Patti, do you have my bathing suit?" I said walking out of the bathroom.

"Here's the suit I want you to where from now on."

In her hand was a black Speedo™, hardly bigger than the bottom of her suit.

"I can't wear this; it's little more than a jock strap. Everyone will see everything."

"That's the idea. I'm proud of you and the hard work you've put into your body. You're trim, fit and extremely sexy, and I want everyone to know it."

I pulled the suit on and looked in the mirror; the lump of my cock and balls was clearly outlined by the dark stretchy fabric.

"Patti are you sure about this; if we run into those girls again I'm afraid I may rip the material or pop right out."

"Don't worry; they wouldn't sell them if no one could wear them."