It was the kind of Caribbean island where rich Americans came to retire. Don’t ask me where they got their money from; I thought everybody was struggling these days, but apparently not. So, you’d see these old couples around the place, the guys looking exhausted by the sun, but before that by their career and by life itself.

And, at their side would be a nice, tidy woman, cruising through late middle age, a little worn, perhaps, but in good working order and still with a distant twinkle in her eye.

For me, semi-retired, divorced, and with time on my hands, this endless catwalk of eligible but attached females was as frustrating as it was exciting. I was sure that some of the husbands would be only too glad to have their wife entertained for a few hours as long as she was returned in good condition and untroubled by the experience.

I would often find myself at the next table in a restaurant, striking up a conversation with the husband and trying to draw the wife in without upsetting him.

It had worked up to a point so far and now I had decided to go the whole hog. It was a question of language, I thought. How to put it, the proposition that could result in a whole range of outcomes, from outrage and violence to a discreet arrangement that suited all three of us.

My plan was further refined to maximize the possibility of success and reduce the likelihood of complications by targeting only tourists and those who owned a place there but rented it out most of the year.

Gerard and Rona were from New Jersey and he had made his pile with carpet warehouses. He had been a pioneer in his neck of the woods and he was proud of it.

Quite a story to tell St Peter at the pearly gates, I found myself thinking.

They were here for a week and were halfway through that time. Gerard was tall and portly, an unhealthy specimen who looked likely to have a heart attack at any time. I surmised that he had neither the desire nor the capacity to rattle Rona’s bones much these days, if at all.

She, on the other hand, reminded me of Jerry’s mother in Seinfeld, with her slacks and shirts, her longish still-brown hair and a prominent nose. She hadn’t had a career. After meeting Gerard, she had had a string of children and devoted her life to running the home.

Having finished our meal, we went to a nearby bar and drank cocktails. My knee touched Rona’s thigh accidentally and she didn’t flinch, so I did it again a minute later. This time she looked at me, still smiling as she told some story, her eyes conveying the fact that she had registered my touch but wasn’t sure if she should be worried or not. I smiled back at her with the information that she shouldn’t be alarmed but that she should take the touch seriously.

One of the undiscussed facts about hot climates is that people are not forever getting up to go to the toilet. Perspiration takes care of most of the excess water and you never drink enough to compensate.

I tell you this because a lengthy trip by Rona to the Ladies would have given me time to put my proposal to Gerard.

In the nick of time she remembered she needed something from the pharmacy, which was right across the street and still open, as it was only seven-thirty. So off she went like a good girl.

“Nice woman,” I said casually.

“Uh huh,” said Gerard. “We’ve been lucky I guess, getting this far without killing each other.”

“You never strayed?” I asked hesitantly, tiptoeing into sensitive territory.

“You don’t expect me to answer that,” Gerard said with a laugh, looking at me sideways. “She really would kill me. She’s no angel, mind you. Independent spirit. I guess we’ve turned a few blind eyes over the years.”

“Would you turn another one?” I asked.

“Now?” he said. “For you?”

I coughed uncomfortably as the cogs spun in his brain. He changed the subject and when Rona returned they decided they had to go. We exchanged phone numbers and wished each other goodnight.

~~~~~

The next morning I was lounging by the pool, too lazy to walk the few hundred yards to the beach, when a text message arrived. It was from Gerard: “Lunch?” 

We arranged to meet in the beachside restaurant of their hotel at 1pm.We had a cocktail each and then Gerard stood up and excused himself.

“Golf,” he said. “I’ve got a deal on the boil and we’re going to discuss it over a few holes on that desert they call a course.”

And, with a little peck on the cheek for his wife, he was gone.

Rona and I had a nice meal and enjoyed each other’s company. I decided not to steam in with enquiries about what, if anything, her husband had told her.

Then, as we paid the bill, she looked me in the eye. “I need to freshen up,” she said. “In the room. You want to come?”

Seeing my hesitancy as I wondered if this was what I hoped it was, she smiled her motherly smile.

“Come on,” she said. “I won’t…. er….”

It was a suite, as grand as they came in that part of the world, and I sprawled on a sofa as Rona disappeared into the bathroom.When she came back, she sat next to me, smelling of soap and adjusting her clothing.

“So,” she said, “I gather you and Ged had a little chat last night. It’s okay, don’t be shy.”

I put my arm around her and she snuggled into me.

“I guess we’re a little old for this kind of thing,” she said.

“You don’t look old at all,” I said. “You look great.”

“I mean too old for the games, the preamble,” she explained and stood up. “Come on.”

Rona led me into a palatial bedroom, neat and tidy with barely a sign of human habitation.

Now that it was clear she was complicit, I took her in my arms and kissed her. Her big, low-slung breasts pressed temptingly against my stomach as my hands roamed her wonderful, mature body. I unzipped her slacks and put a hand in them, then slid it into the inner sanctum and felt her pubic hair.

“My God,” she said. “A man has just put his hand inside my panties.”

I slid my middle finger into her and she wriggled.

“There is a finger in my hole,” she said.

“Do you like having my hand in your panties?” I teased.

“You have no idea,” she said happily. “What else are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to lick you all over,” I said. “Shall we start with that?”

Rona took off her shirt and bra, clearly a little self-conscious about revealing her breasts but doing it anyway. I sucked her nipples and she sighed appreciatively.

She lay on the bed as I undressed and she watched intently as my erection sprang from my briefs.

“Wow. He’s nice,” she said as I lay on top of her and slid between her legs.

“You want to suck me?” I asked politely.

“ I want you to lick me,” she replied. “All over, like you said.”

I kissed her breasts and her stomach, then moved back up a little and pushed her arms onto the pillow behind her head, her elbows bent and this lovely middle-aged woman was pinioned as I licked her armpits. She was lightly perfumed and a little stubbly there and she breathed in sharply. It’s not something that many women experience and I could tell she liked it after the initial bolt of trepidation.

“Shit,” Rona exclaimed. “That goes direct to my…”

I followed the feeling down her body and into her little forest of hair.

“Oh yes,” she said happily, in a natural voice that had nothing to do with the stagey whimpering of porn stars. This was real life in all its glory.

I licked Rona’s pussy and sucked her lips and shoved my tongue as far into her hole as I could. Then I gave her vagina a little kiss and was about to move back up to her face.

“You said all over,” she said. “And there’s something no one has ever done that I really would like to experience.”

“You want me to lick your ass?” I asked quietly.

“I’m curious,” she said. “But if you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I want to, Rona," I replied firmly. “I would love to lick your ass. Turn over.”

Rona turned over and put her ass in the air and I got in there and licked her eagerly. She flinched at first before relaxing and letting herself enjoy it. I licked her strongly but tenderly, up the insides of her buttocks and around her little asshole. I poked my tongue into it and resumed the licking and she began to sing quietly to herself, Mary Had a Little Lamb.

Then Rona stopped singing and said, “Oh my God, I’m coming.”

She writhed and moaned as she had her first ever ass-induced orgasm. And then she collapsed on the bed.

I climbed back up her body and she turned onto her back. We kissed tenderly.

“I want you to suck my cock,” I said softly.

“Old ladies don’t do that,” she said playfully.

“You’re not an old lady,” I said. “And you want to suck my cock. I know you do.”

“Okay,” she said. “You got me. I want to suck your penis.”

And with that she slid down and took me in her mouth and carefully, slowly plunged her mouth over the head of my cock and made appreciative little noises as she began to enjoy what she was doing. She held my balls as if they were treasure and she traced the creases of my crotch with her fingertips.

Then she threw herself onto her back and gave me the grand invitation.

“You can fuck me,” she said proudly, proud of having overcome whatever inhibitions she might have had, proud of accepting the proposal for this situation and, most of all,  proud of still being a woman with the power to excite a man.

I climbed on board and slid my cock into her delicious body and she lifted her legs to give me better access, then wrapped them around me. I played with her asshole as I rode her and I talked dirty, as I knew she liked.

“You’re a wonderful woman,” I said. “I have never sucked the vagina of a finer girl. I loved licking your ass – loved it -  and you gave me a beautiful blow job.”

Rona hushed me as she came to another fabulous, grateful orgasm. Her vaginal fluids bathed my cock and she kissed me with something like devotion as my semen spurted into her.

The deal with Gerard had been for a one-off which they could both consider before making any further arrangements, and I didn’t see either of them again before they flew back to the US.

But I did get some lovely Whatsapps from Rona and replied to them, spelling out in great detail what we had done together and what I wanted to do in future.

“One day,” Rona said. “We will be back next year.”