My first thought on waking up in a sun-lit unfamiliar room was, "Where am I?” Then I remembered the night before. On the beach.

A man was curled around me. A hand was on one of my breasts and his leg was draped over mine and I felt the hardness of his penis on my thigh. “You’re awake,” he said. “I want to fuck you again.”

“Who?” I thought. “Oh, yes, Andrew! A lawyer from Boston.” My head hurt. “A hangover.” Andrew rolled over on top of me, his hands spreading my legs and his penis seeking my vagina. “Oh, shit!” I thought. “I’m not ready for this.”

But I said, “Careful. Slowly, please. I’m dry.”

Andrew’s fingers found my clitoris as he penetrated me slowly, his penis advancing and I felt blessed wetness and gasped when his whole length slipped inside me.

Andrew was pumping away and I attempted to match his enthusiasm. There was a knock at the door. “Maggie? Andrew?” It was April. “I’ve fixed brunch. Do you want to get up?”

Andrew didn’t pause in his stroking.

“I don’t know where my clothes are,” I said, looking around the room.

“You left them on the beach. I have them.” April opened the door and stepped inside, my dress in her hand. “Oh,” she said as she saw Andrew and me joined on the bed. “I’ll wait,” she backed out the door.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Put my clothes on the chair. We’ll be out in a minute.” I turned her face to Andrew whose movements within me were becoming more frantic. “It will be only a minute, won’t it?”

“Yes,” Andrew said with a choking sound as his pounding against my body became more violent. “I’m coming.”

April smiled and backed out of the room. “I’m going.”

As Andrew pulled his penis out of me, I thought: numbers eighteen, nineteen, and twenty. I’m an accountant. I count. Always. I should be ashamed with myself for participating in a beach orgy, but it had been fun despite my lack of enthusiasm for sex this morning. What the hell? I’ll never see these three guys again.

***

Seven months earlier, I, Maggie Sanders, forty years old, married to a fundamentalist preacher and with two children in college, returned home to Kansas after working for six months in refugee camps in Kenya and Sudan. I was soon restless. The people in the small town where I lived were not interested in my experiences. I slipped back into church activities and appeared arm-in-arm with my husband attempting to present the picture of a devoted, Christian couple but our marriage was in tatters. My husband was having an affair with the choir director of his small evangelical church. I could hardly blame him.

I had been a devoted mother, determined that my children grow up with a menu of choices for their lives rather than the shackles that had bound me until recently. My daughter, now a junior in university, and my son, a sophomore, were happy and admiring of their adventurous mother, but I was not a big part of their lives. "I raised them to be independent," she thought, "I didn't want them to grow up to be like me when I was young. They are getting along fine.”

I resumed my accounting business. I found a lover in Kansas City and another in Omaha, but the sex lacked excitement. The men were pleasant, but not blessed with the spirit I craved. "I've become a disaster junkie," I said to myself, a member of the tribe of people who travel from one humanitarian disaster – war, earthquake, famine, etc. -- to another for the noble purpose of aiding the afflicted of the earth and the not-so-noble purpose of experiences out of the ordinary. "My adrenaline doesn't flow in Kansas."

After almost six months in Kansas, I telephoned John Bright, the President of the Christians of Faith, an international humanitarian organization headquartered in Washington, D. C.. He had recruited me to work in Kenya.

"John," I asked. "Could I go back to Kenya to work with COF?"

"I'm sorry you didn't ask me sooner. I've filled your job. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but I miss living and working abroad."

"I have a job open in Thailand in a refugee camp near the Burmese border."

"I'm interested."

"When can you go to Thailand?"

"Tomorrow," I answered with a laugh. "Well, in a couple of weeks. I'll need to finish up a few things here."

"You've got the job."

"What's the weather like there?"

"Always hot, but you're used to that. Six months of rain, six months of dry weather. Would you like to know how much we will pay you?"

“Yes, that's a question I should ask."

"For a six-month contract, six thousand dollars a month tax-free, a hut to live in at the refugee camp, medical care and life insurance at no cost to you while in our employ, and an airline ticket there and home after you’ve finished your tour.”

That was it. I told my husband I was leaving, telephoned my children to say goodbye, and wrapped up my business obligations. My husband didn't seem disturbed about my leaving, especially after I said I would send him three thousand dollars every month for the children's college expenses and payments on the new car he had recently purchased. My expenses in Thailand would be minimal. I was glad he was having an affair. It soothed my conscience.

***

At Mae Ma Refugee Camp, I lived in a bamboo hut with April, a twenty-eight-year-old American nurse from Wisconsin. We were the only two farangs (foreigners, usually Europeans and Americans) living in the camp. I managed educational programs financed by COF. April was a nurse. We lived in a bamboo hut. We had a generator for electric power, a solar-heated outside shower, and a smelly pit toilet located well away from the hut. April and I were immediately friends. She was buxom and blond and had the usual free and irreverent manner of people who work in refugee camps. “These are my people. I’m home!” I thought. April’s practice, which I adopted, was to work three weeks straight and then take a week off. For our first break from work, we traveled by bus to Bangkok, the capital city of Thailand.

During our seven-hour bus ride to Bangkok, April commented on life in Thailand. "Bangkok," April explained to Maggie, "is the sex capital of the world. Look around you. Thai women are smiling and pretty. They all look like they are 18 years old and they've got tight little bodies."

"Thailand is not the greatest place to be a 'round eye' -- a Western woman," she continued. "There are an infinite number of bars, massage parlors, nightclubs, strip joints, no-hands restaurants, and other establishments where sex can be purchased quickly and easily. It takes five minutes for a man to find a sex partner. Factor that into your thinking. Men are accustomed to sex on demand."

"As for me," she said with a shrug, "I'd like to get laid. It didn't happen last month when I was on holiday."

Maggie took a close look at the Thai women on the bus. They were small. Rounded features and smooth skin made it hard to judge their ages. "At least I don't feel under-endowed here because of my dinky boobs," I thought. I’m no glamour girl. I’m slender and attractive. I flatter myself that I don’t look forty, but my assets – if you catch my meaning – are modest. Men like me for my sardonic sense of humor and my sympathetic and patient attitude. I let them talk to me about their favorite subject: themselves.

"I want to skip Bangkok for now and go to Pattaya beach for a couple of days," said April. "Do you want to go with me?”

"Sounds fun."

"Maybe we can find some men."

***

The beach resort of Pattaya is a sex emporium. Along a pedestrian mall called "walking street," lounged hundreds of young Thai women dressed in scanty clothing and calling out to farang men, plus a few Japanese and Chinese, along the wide walkway. The men examined the female merchandise on display. Thai barkers stood among the women trying to lure men into bars and massage parlors.

"My God," I asked. "Are all of these women prostitutes?" It was about nine p.m. and April and I were strolling through the noisy chaos of massage parlors, bars, restaurants, motorcycles, noodle carts, street vendors, and young women seated at tables, standing against walls, chatting, laughing. and negotiating in a sing-song, broken English with farang men. The men were of all ages, mostly dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirts. Rock music blared from every doorway.

"Bar girls is the usual term for them, but, yeah, they are for sale. A lot of them are part-timers who have a regular job during the day and turn a trick now and then to supplement their income. It beats a life on the farm, which is where most of them came from."

Several of the farang men exchanged pleasantries with April and me and evaluated us as if we were sides of beef hanging on a hook in a meat locker. April wore shorts and a cropped tube top that left her midriff bare. Her large breasts bulged out of the fabric and the dark shadow of her nipples was visible through the fabric.

I wore my only party outfit: a flowery dress with spaghetti straps, falling to my knees and with a neckline cut low enough to suggest my modest cleavage. The thin cloth swished when I walked; my arms and shoulders were well-toned and tanned; my calves slender and long. I wore no bra. It was hot.

"How much does it cost for sex with one of these women?" I asked.

"It's negotiable. Thirty dollars would be average for free-lance girls on the street. Half that for a blow job. The girls who work in bars are more expensive because you also have to pay a fee to the mamasan. It can be a lot cheaper in the poor areas of town."

"You know a lot about this."

"Yeah, back home no man would ever tell a woman that he was fucking prostitutes. But in Thailand, they all talk about it, compare girls, and make recommendations for the best ones to seek out.” April continued, "I don't think there's a man in Thailand, Thai or farang, who hasn't fucked bar girls. We round eyes just have to accept that.” “Round eyes” is the common term in Thailand for a non-Asian woman.

April turned serious. “You must demand that a sex partner wear a condom. Do you need some?"

I answered with a smile, "I have several." I patted the small purse hanging by a leather thong around her neck.

“Maybe you’re not as pure as you look,” April said with a laugh. "You're ready then. So am I. Let's eat dinner and see what happens." They sat at a table on the sidewalk, with the crowd flowing around them, and ordered bottles of Singha beer. April ordered a green curry and I ordered fried noodles. I sprinkled fish sauce on the noodles and added diced chili peppers. I had learned to like spicy food while working in Kenya.

We were waiting for our food when a smiling, dapper man in his mid-thirties came over to our table. "Would you like to join us?" He had an American accent. We looked over at the table. Two more men were there, of about the same age and prosperous appearance. "We would welcome your company."

We looked at each other, an eager smile forming on April's face, and I nodded and we rose and walked over to the men’s table. Our escort introduced them. "This is my brother Andrew. He just arrived in Thailand today for a visit. And this is Doug who lives in Bangkok, as I do. My name is Tim."

Tim, they learned, headed a consulting company in Bangkok. Doug was the owner of an import-export company, also in Bangkok, and Andrew, Tim's pudgy brother, was a lawyer in Boston. All of them were polite, funny, and intelligent. April was clearly aroused, her face flushed, her lips parted, he hands reaching out to touch the men on their shoulders and their hands. The five of us ate, drank beer, and laughed together, ignoring the bustling street a few feet beyond our table. The street showed no signs of quieting down when the hour reached midnight.

"Would you girls like to take a walk on the beach?" asked Doug, who was quiet, tall, and handsome. "We have a beach house nearby and we can walk that direction."

Before I could respond, April said eagerly, "Yes, that sounds lovely. I've had enough of the noise and the crowds." The three men and we two women finished our beers, got up unsteadily from the table, and made our way through the crowd to the beach a short distance away.

Away from walking street, the beach was empty. It was a serene tropical night. The moon hung in the sky like a lantern. casting dark shadows on the wet, yellow sand. We took off our sandals and walked barefoot, the ripples of the gentle tide lapping around our feet, the coconut palms swaying in a gentle breeze.

"That's our house," said Tim, pointing to a two-story wood-frame house hidden in the coconut palms at the edge of the beach. He was of medium height and unremarkable in appearance, except for the pleasant smile that never left his face. "Do you want to come in for a drink?"

"Three men, two women, how is that going to work?" I asked herself.

April said, "First, I want to go swimming." With that she turned away from the others, pulled the tube top over her head, eased off her shorts and panties, and ran into the surf, laughing and shouting with glee. She turned to face the others. "I am so happy, free from work, from worries. I want to play." The black triangle of hair between her legs was visible in the moonlight and her breasts bounced as she leaped up and down and in the shallow water.

"I'm with her," said Andrew, stripping off his pants and shirt and running toward the water to join April in the surf.

"Me too," said Doug and Tim simultaneously, taking off their clothes while looking expectantly at me.

I shrugged, unzipped, and stepped out of the dress, took my panties off, and dropped them on the sand, adding the neck purse on top of my clothes. I ran into the water and Doug and Tim followed me, flopping penises visible in the moonlight.

We cavorted in the warm water, splashing each other, touching, giggling like children. I found herself paired with Tim. I walked deeper into the water up to my neck and he followed me. April, Doug, and Andrew were at the edge of the water, standing near to each other, talking and laughing.

Tim took me by my hand and pulled me to him and we embraced, his hands running up and down my back to my buttocks, the wavelets of the sea lapping over my shoulders

Nearer to the beach, April was squealing with delight. Tim and I turned to look at her. Andrew was holding her from behind and Doug was kissing her breasts. As they watched, Andrew lowered her to the sand, still holding her in his arms, and she pulled Doug close, her mouth closing on his penis.

"April is in heaven," I said. Tim and I kissed long and hard and his hand ran down my thigh and into my crotch and I gasped when his finger slipped deep inside me.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked politely.

“Yeah,” I answered, shivering as his hand brushed against my clitoris. “But if we proceed, we'll need a condom." I’ve fucked enough men not to be shy about making my requirements known.

"I like oral best. Does that suit you? Do you want a condom for that?"

I kissed him on the cheek. "Oral suits me – and, no, we don't need a condom for that." I nibbled on his ear, brushed my lips lightly on his cheek, and whispered, "But how are we going to do this when we're standing neck-deep in water?"

"Where there’s a will, there’s a way."

"I’ve got the will, if you’ve got the way.” I reached down to touch his penis.

"That's funny. I like your attitude." He ran his finger up and down inside her. I took his penis in her hand, stroking it against my thigh. He lifted me up until my legs were locked around his neck and while I was floating on the surface his mouth went to my slit. He sucked hard on my clitoris, holding my head above the water. I stretched her arms out to float more easily. He took his mouth away from my clitoris and inserted two fingers into my vagina and I felt the warm water of the sea flowing in and out of me and waves rippling off my erect nipples.

"How does that feel?' he asked.

"Wonderful. I'm going to come quickly. Do you want that?"

"Oh, yes. I love to make a woman come. Provided, of course, that our evening isn't over after that. I have my desires also, you know."

"I come like a fountain,” I laughed and kissed his cheek. “And I believe that both partners must be satisfied.” I had a coughing spell as sea water flooded into my open mouth.

Tim waited until I had quit coughing and then said, "I like you. Shall we proceed?"

"Please do. I can't float forever and I'm curious to see how oral sex feels like underwater."

"You'll like it." With hands under her hips, spreading the cheeks of my buttocks, a finger inserted in my rectum while he held me on the surface of the water, his tongue deep within me, flicking in and out, and then, arms extended, legs wrapped around his head, I climaxed, and lost control of my body, thrashing wildly around in the water as emotions ran up and down my spine. Tim held my head above the water and I lurched back and forth in the emotion of a hard and lingering orgasm.

"Oh, damn!" I said when I could speak. "That was good."

Tim lowered me to my feet and I stood with my body plastered against his, my arms around him to support my quaking knees. He kissed her. "When you're ready, use your hand and your mouth."

"Here? My mouth? Underwater?" I was puzzled.

"Underwater. Why not? Catch my cum in your mouth so we don't pollute the ocean."

"You're an environmentalist. I like that," I said, "but how am I going to give you a blow job without drowning." I dipped my head into the water and found his penis and put it in my mouth and sucked it, then pulled away and rose to the surface to catch my breath.

"I like it," he said.

"Let me do it again. Meanwhile, I have to breathe." I stroked his penis with my hand.

"Okay, now,” I dipped my head down to his waist, found his erect penis, and put it in my mouth, sucking hard. In a few seconds, I had to rise about the water to breathe, then I went underwater again and he said, "I'm almost ready." He was hunching back and forth in the water.

"Finally," I said, kissing him on the lips, and thrusting my tongue into his mouth, feeling his hard penis quiver in my hand. "Now's the time, " I said, took a deep breath and submerged my head and took his penis in my mouth, and felt the palpitations as he climaxed, his hot sperm ejected into my mouth. I rolled my tongue around the sticky, salty sperm for a moment and then I had to let go of him and rise quickly to the surface to catch my breath. I spit out water and sperm and coughed. "I'm sorry. I got a mouthful of seawater and I didn't want to swallow it. I need practice at underwater blow jobs."

We laughed together as we embraced. "I hardly ever fuck a woman," Tim explained. "I prefer oral sex. Is that okay with you?

"It was fabulous. Except for the seawater."

Tim turned to look at the beach. April was on her elbows and knees and Andrew was standing behind her, his hands on her hips, his penis driving into her backside. Her head was in Doug's lap.

"More, more, more, harder, harder, harder!" April was shouting.

"She's a screamer," said Tim.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"She'll wake up all the neighbors," I observed. Both of us were looking clinically at the scene on the beach a few dozen feet away.

Tim laughed and kissed me on the cheek. "Shall we join the others?"

"I'm coming too!" That was Andrew. He and April were moaning with pleasure. April's head was in Doug's lap and she collapsed on the sand, breathing hard as Tim and I waded into shallower waters to the edge of the sea and sat on the sand beside them.

Andrew got to his feet, stripped the condom off his penis, and looked at me. "Who's next? I'm ready for another go."

I was pleased to see that he had used a condom, but, really, was I up to sex with another man? I was feeling mellow after the watery orgasm Tim had given me with his mouth. Oh, fuck, I said to myself, I did this once before in a beach house in Greece three years ago. Two men and two women on that occasion.

They all laughed. "Hey, it's my turn," Doug said. Doug detached himself from April and stood up. He looked at me. Doug was very good-looking – much better-looking than Andrew. His penis was long and thin.

Tim and I, arm in arm, looked at each other and at Doug. "Doug is my best friend," he said.

"I'm to be shared. Is that what that means?"

"If you wish."

I thought it over. Why not? I wanted more than oral sex. I would probably never see these men again. It was a guilt-free adventure. "How jaded have I become," I thought wryly. But should it be Doug or Andrew? "No contest." I pulled loose from Tim and took Doug by the hand, "I haven't had enough swimming. Let's go into the water."

"What about me?" said Andrew, still standing knee-deep in the water, a used condom in his hand.

"Don't throw that in the water, little brother. There's a trash can over there," said Tim, pointing. I felt a twinge of love for Tim creep into my heart. A lover with a social conscience! Tim looked down at April, who was still lying, speechless and stomach-down on the sand. "If you're up to it, April, I'll take Doug's place with your head on my lap." He sat down. April roused herself, scooted across the sand, lifted her head, and put it in Tim's lap, taking his soft penis in her mouth.

Doug and I walked into the warm tropical waters, but barely got waist-deep when we locked their bodies together in a kiss, his tongue exploring inside my mouth. Two minutes later and we were on the beach, me lying on my back on the wet sand.

"There are condoms," I said, "in my neck purse."

He walked over to her purse, opened it, found a package of condoms, bit off a corner of the package, and rolled the condom onto his penis. He lay down on top of me, finding my vagina and entering me slowly. I spread my legs to facilitate his entry, the small waves of the sea washing over me. Doug stroked methodically inside me. I glanced down the beach. April was crouching over a reclining Tim, his penis in her mouth, their bodies silhouetted against a large yellow moon. Andrew was crouched behind April, his penis inside her. Again.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Doug as he dug deep inside me and I breathed hard.

"Oh, yes, I am."

"You are the first round-eye I have fucked in more than a year." He paused. "Oops, maybe that was not the right thing to say."

"It wasn't, but I'm pleased to be of service," I answered archly.

“It's nice, having sex with a woman who is intelligent and who I can talk to in my own language." He paused. “I like your dress." He pointed at her crumpled dress lying on the sand a few feet away. "I run a clothing business.”

"It's my only party dress. I live out of a suitcase." I could feel Doug softening inside her.

"Where did you buy it?"

"I didn't buy it. A man gave it to me in Greece. Three years ago. It belonged to his wife." Doug had slipped totally out of her. She wiggled her hips to induce a re-entry.

"I'd like to borrow it. To copy the design.”

"If you weren't already fucking me, I would take that as flattery to get me into bed. Actually, you're not fucking me right now. Maybe we could discuss business later?"

"Oh, sorry." He reached down between his legs, took his penis in hand, and reinserted it into me. "Better?" he asked.

"I'd like to come before long. I’m feeling conspicuous. Everybody else has finished and is watching us."

Doug turned his head. Tim and Andrew were sitting naked on the sand a dozen feet away. They clapped and Doug acknowledged them with a wave. April lay between them, stretched out on the sand. "Okay," Doug said, "Let's give them a show."

"I'm getting ready."

"How about you come first, and then I come on you? Does that suit you?"

"Yes." I responded by thrusting my hips forward, wrapping my legs tighter around him. "Now," I said. I climaxed with a squeak of passion and spread my legs wide, waving wildly in the air, my teeth nibbling into Doug's shoulder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I almost shouted. I had not been fucked for a month. And then only by my husband back home in Kansas. “Only my husband,” I thought. “That’s uncharitable.”

Doug waited until I recovered my breath and my body stilled from my quivering orgasm. He pulled his penis out and crouched over me, stroking his penis. I raised my hands to his testicles and massaged them gently. He came in large spurts, the hot sperm falling on my breasts. I smeared it around with her fingers as he climbed off me.

The watchers clapped in appreciation at the show. Doug nodded his head in appreciation. Still laying on my back, I blew them a kiss, then licked sperm off my fingers.

Andrew got up from the sand and walked over to me. "I want some of that."

I held her hands in protest. "Give me a minute of rest." I got up and walked into the surf and began washing the sand and sperm off my body.

Tim asked, "Do you girls want to spend the night at our house? It will save you a long walk back to your hotel. And brunch will be served." He climbed to his feet. April still lay motionless on her back, her legs spread, the waves lapping around her feet and calves.

"Are you alive over there, April?" I asked.

"I am totally exhausted. But, yes, let's spend the night with these guys."

"You can share my bed," Andrew said to me. "April can sleep with Tim and Doug."

"I'd be delighted," I answered with a touch of sarcasm and kissed Andrew on the cheek. We wrapped arms around each other and walked toward the house and the others followed. I forgot my dress, lying on the sand.