This is a true story. My second wife and I got married in 1988, and we had not been married long when a girlfriend from her netball days turned up on our doorstep. Her name was Rachel, and she had just returned from her big OE in London. Having nowhere to stay, we put her up for a couple of weeks while she searched for a flat.
Rachel was just your average-looking girl next door type, but she wasn’t plain; her standout feature was her tits. They were large and firm. At twenty-one, she was a year younger than my wife. She had blond hair with olive skin and was about 5’4” tall. She had a nice figure with ample curves - I had trouble trying not to stare at her tits every time I was in the room with her, which my wife noticed and gave me shit about.
Rachel came across as a very conservative, good catholic girl. But I sensed an underlying conflict in her, and several times, I was certain she was coming on to me. And I certainly felt a sense of her being available if I wanted. I might add I did not, as being so newly married, I was several years away from even thinking about playing around.
She had passed through Jamaica on her way home and spent a week there at some beachside resort. She couldn’t stop talking about the place. One night my wife mentioned to me that Rachel had told her about a pretty raunchy sex experience while in Jamaica. But she said Rachel would not elaborate much about it to her.
I was not surprised she would not open up to my wife fully; they both came across as pretty conservative. However, I felt she may open up to me, and I was dying to get the details. So a couple of days later, when my wife was not around, I brought up what my wife had revealed and pushed her to give me some details. She opened up and, surprisingly, was very explicit in her descriptions of what had gone down, saying that she had been dying to tell someone about it.
Her story really surprised me, as she didn’t come across as a person that would have done any of the things she described. She told me she had arrived in Kingston on a Friday and was due to fly out for NZ the following Saturday. I’ll tell the story in the first person, just as she told it to me.
***
On landing in Kingston and walking across to the terminal, I was awakened to a host of unfamiliar sensations as I took in the Jamaican men on the tarmac. And once through customs, the guy that carried my bag out to the resort’s van had my knees feeling a bit wobbly. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt that was torn in many places, exposing his dark, muscular frame.
I went to bed that night and masturbated myself to sleep, something I seldom did, as it had been hammered into me that self-gratification was a very bad thing. The next day when I arose, my mind was pondering what I would do if a Jamaican guy were to chat me up. I figured that as you only live once, I might never get back to Jamaica again. So I spent the day looking around the shops and checking out every guy that came within fifty feet of me. But I had little luck in getting the attention of anyone.
That night, I asked one of the male resort staff where all the action was. He gave me directions to a nightclub a short taxi ride away and told me it would be humming as it was Saturday night. I only had casual clothes with me. Still, I picked the sexiest attire I had and spent some time on my makeup before going out front and catching a taxi.
The night was a disaster; mostly American tourists and most of the women were prettier than me. I only got asked up for a couple of dances, and that was by older boring American guys.
The next day, I decided to spend the day on the beach and work on my tan. There were a few Jamaican guys around, but I soon found they were all staff. Sometime in the afternoon, a handsome waiter approached and asked if I wanted a drink. I tried flirting with him but was not getting a very strong response, and so I ordered a rum cocktail. When he returned, I tried to get him to stay and talk for a bit, as the beach was not that busy. But in a roundabout way, he explained that staff was forbidden to mingle with the guests, and he wandered off.
Later in the afternoon, he came back and asked if I wanted another drink, as he had seen that I had finished. I told him, “Why not,” and when he returned with it, I asked him, point blank, how did one get to meet the locals. I was fucking horny, and that fact overrode my normal reserved nature.
He glanced around, then quietly told me that I should walk over to the next bay, as that was a public beach and many local guys hung out there. I was embarrassed as he winked at me and pointed to his left, showing the road that curved around the point. I realised I must have seemed like a desperate woman of low virtue to him.
Anyway, the next day saw me walking out of the resort, beach bag over my shoulder, in the direction the guy had pointed. It took a good half hour, and I was pretty hot when I got there. I laid out my towel, down the far end of the beach, well past the majority of the beachgoers. Dropping my sundress and bag on my towel, I headed straight into the sea. I had purchased a sexy red bikini at the resort shop the night before. It proved to be a poor choice as my boobs were almost bouncing out of the cups as I jogged down to the water.
Back on my towel, I spread myself out to catch the sun and, looking over my sunglasses, checked to see if there were any eligible guys around. Disappointingly it was mostly local couples and families near me. And the couple of men that did look to be single weren’t paying any attention to me.
Around midday, I wandered up to a beachside bar/cafe and bought some food and a drink. Some guys were hanging around, and I picked out the best-looking of them and gave him a sexy smile. He came over and offered to carry my food back to my towel, which I happily accepted.
But after some idle chatter, he moved back to the bar. I was starting to feel deflated about my prospects. However, sometime later, another of the other guys from the bar came down and sat beside me.
He introduced himself as Arley, and as he chatted away, I ran my eyes over his body, trying not to be too obvious. He was probably a little over six feet, muscular and had a nice smile. Obviously, he worked out, although I had to admit that all the guys here looked like they worked out. He was quite presentable but tough looking, not the sort of guy I would take home to meet my mother or meet in a dark ally.
Still, I found myself quite attracted to him and felt myself getting a bit squishy between my legs. Our conversation slowly became more interesting, with Arley dropping some not-to-subtle sexual innuendos on me. Then out of the blue, he asked what I wanted, and while I was thinking how I could possibly indicate I wanted some sexual attention, he rattled off, “Marijuana, Coke, cheap local brewed rum, anything you want, I can get.”
I stuttered out that didn’t want any of those. And he immediately asked if I smoked pot. I replied that I had tried it a couple of times in London but that it had not done much for me.
“Ah! You need to try our weed, it is much better than anything you will get over there.” Replied Arley.
And he opened his bum bag and pulled out a joint. I looked around, expecting to see the police rushing down the beach. But the nearest people to us were a good twenty metres away and not showing the slightest interest in us.
Arley cocked his head at me, “Are you on? You really should give some Jamaican ganja a try. Have a couple of tokes?”
My more conservative self was screaming, No! But I found myself nodding okay to him. And he lit it up, took a deep suck, and then handed it to me. The first inhale made me cough, I did not smoke, so it was not a comfortable feeling. But when I went to hand it back, he told me to take my time and have a couple more tokes. The second time it was a little better, but I could not feel anything amazing happening, and so the third time, I took a much longer drag on it.
Just as I was about to hand the joint back to him and say that the stuff did not work on me, I felt a warm euphoria envelope my body.
Arley smiled at me, “Better than you have had before, eh! Jamaica has the best Jolly Green in the world. Have another drag I have plenty more here?”
I had sat up to try my first inhales but now wanted to lie back and relax. So I lowered myself onto my side facing him and took another toke.
Arley leaned over and placed his hand behind my neck; he kneaded my neck muscles and told me to relax and enjoy it. I think I drifted away for a bit, as when I came to my senses again, Arley was caressing my breasts. When he saw I was aware of what he was doing and not freaking out, he flipped my bikini top up and let both my breasts swing free.
I just lay back and enjoyed his kneading of my nipples. He then leaned in and took a nipple in his mouth. I desperately looked around to see if people were watching but again found no one taking any notice of us, and I gave up all control. I was extremely aroused, my body trembling with desire.
I jerked awake again, though, as I felt his fingers forcing their way down the front of my bikini bottoms and slipping in between my wet, already-swollen sex lips. But I did not attempt to stop him, it felt too good.
He pushed me over onto my back and draped my sun frock over my thighs to cover his hand. My breasts sat up proudly, firm yet soft. I had seen some women topless when I arrived at the beach and figured I would not cause too much of a stir. Still, I was incredibly self-conscious and way outside my comfort zone, and I lifted my hands to cover my breasts.
Arley pulled my hands away and pushed them down to my side, “I want to look at them as I make you cum,” he said, shifting his hand back under my sun-frock.
I felt him working my bikini bottoms off and lifting my head, watched him work them down my legs. He sat up and looked around, then slipped them from my ankles and into his shorts pocket. He arranged the material of my dress on my right hip so as to hide what he was up to and inserted two fingers deep inside me. After a few good hard strokes, he held the dress up to let me watch him work. I saw that the inside of my thighs were literally covered in a murky creamy juice. Every time he pulled his fingers out, It hung in silvery strings from my pubic hair and swollen inner lips.
In no time, I felt my orgasm approaching. Noticing this, he withdrew his fingers and started massaging my breasts. I rolled towards him slightly, attempting to hide them from anyone near. But he pushed me back and worked on my rock-hard nipples.
If he meant to delay my climax by leaving my fanny alone, it was not working. The eroticism of being totally naked and exposed to other people, not a stone's throw away, was bringing me off.
“Need to cum,” I pleaded with him. “Please play with me again.” And I tried to push one of his hands down to my thighs.
“You want my fingers, then you put them in.” He said, pulling away from my hand and placing his hand on my lower stomach.
I reached down with both my hands, one taking hold of the dress and holding it steady to hide what he was doing to me, and with the other, I took his hand and directed his fingers into my very excited, eager cunt.
I spread my legs, moving my hips in time with his thrusts, trying to get his fingers even deeper. Then moving my hand on his to let him know I wanted him to use three fingers. I dropped my head back on the towel and tried to relax as he forced three fingers inside my throbbing cunt. My orgasm struck suddenly; the flood of emotion had me arching my back in ecstasy.
The feeling of loss as he withdrew his fingers had me groping around between my legs, searching to hold his hand back. And I was struck by a stronger wave of disappointment as he pushed me away and rolled me on my side, facing the people nearest to us. But my disappointment was quickly replaced with elation as he cuddled in close behind me and ground his hips against my but. I could feel his hardness as he reached over with a free hand and held my hands, as I had been attempting to pull my top down.
Then both of his hands were working around on my arse, and I felt him release his hard cock from his shorts. I was still thrumming and sensitive from my climax but felt a searing need to be taken. One of his hands was directing himself between my legs; the other reached over me again and worked on one of my incredibly hard, sensitive nipples. I felt like they were going to burst. They were so swollen and erect.