After my divorce, I had a ton of cash from my ex buying me out of our house and I proclaimed 2018 as my “Travel Year.” I visited friends in Hawaii during the spring, went to NYC and Boston in August, and a birthday trip to Tulum, Mexico in October.

I had been to Tulum three times previously with my ex and a group of friends, plus to several resorts near Playa Del Carmen. I booked ten days at a “glamping” spot I had been to before. It was no frills with no tv, air conditioning, and limited electricity in the thatched roof cabanas. All of the units were mere steps from the beach.

On the third day, the weather turned, and Tropical Storm Michael hit the Mayan Riviera (later Hurricane Michael in Florida). My room was fairly dry inside, but the bathroom section now had two inches of water on the floor. Management was not helpful at all, so I asked if I could transfer the balance of my paid money to my son’s upcoming stay in two weeks. They accepted those terms, and I searched the internet for a cheap all-inclusive.

I ended up booking six nights at an all-inclusive resort closer to Cancun. It looked decent online, and it was cheap. The storm was still ugly with high winds and constant rain, so I spent the first day at the new resort in my ocean view room watching tv and surfing the web.

The next morning, I awoke to blue skies, no wind, and the sun shining. I headed down for breakfast but first wanted to throw my towel on a lounger at the pool. Ninety percent of the chairs were already taken but I found one single spot right next to the pool. I tossed my towel and hat on the chair and headed to the restaurant for breakfast.

When I returned an hour later, the pool area was half full of guests and I saw four ladies sitting to the left of my lounger. As I approached, I noticed that all four of the women looked to be about my age, early fifties, Latina, and decent looking. It was hard to really tell as all had on big sunglasses and various hats. As I stopped at my chair and sat down the lady next to me said hello. Innocent enough I thought, she was just being friendly.

Within the hour I had been introduced to all four and learned their story. They worked together at a high-tech company in the Dallas area and were on a “girls’ trip” celebrating Serena’s birthday. Three were divorced and single, while Yolanda was married for twenty-seven years.

Yolanda, who was sitting next to me, was by far the cutest of the ladies and the most outgoing. Short, cute, and with pretty eyes, and I was crushing on the married woman as we chit-chatted. I talked with all of the ladies the next two hours as we’d get in the pool to cool off and they seemed to be rotating so all of the single women had a chance to sit next to me and talk.

The pool staff announced that later they’d be having a “Foam Party” soon and we laughed and wondered what that would be like. Two o’clock rolled around and soon enough the pool was covered with bubbles and the DJ was bumping some crazy hip-hop tunes.

The Texas ladies were excited to get in while I was going to pass it up. Yolanda was insistent that I join them in the pool for the foam party. She wore a form-fitting black one-piece swimsuit with some gold bling around the collar. About five-foot-three, maybe a size eight, probably a six, she looked incredible standing at the foot of my lounge chair. “We were going to invite you to have dinner with us, but if you don’t get in the pool I’ll veto that idea,” Yolanda said.

“Dinner? With four cute ladies? OK, I’ll get in for the foam party,” I said.

I must admit, it was a lot of fun. We went to the swim-up bar and one of the ladies ordered us five shots of tequila and five mojitos. We did the shot and then started walking through the foam to check out other areas of the massive resort pool.

At one point I heard, “Scott, can you help me?” I turned to barely see Yolanda through the foam. The water covered her shoulders, and the foam was easily a foot above the top of her head.

“Grab my hand,” I said.

Yolanda took my hand and I led her through the foam to where the other girls had stopped. When we met the others, I thought for sure she would let go of my hand, but she did not. And I was not going to pull my hand out of the grasp of a pretty woman.

After about five minutes Serena noticed our closeness and said, “Are you two still holding hands?” This caused Yolanda to release my hand.

I joked, “For the record, she was holding my hand.”

“That is typical for her,’” said the oldest of the four, Jessica. “She is the biggest flirt.”

Turning towards Yolanda with a smirk on my face, “Yes, she is a big flirt,” I said.

Without a doubt, she and I had chemistry. But I knew this would go nowhere since she was married, and I would never hit on a married woman. Plus, I learned her husband was a former Marine and I did not want to be tracked down in California and have my ass kicked.

After the foam party, we went back to our chairs and after a short time, I felt the need to use the restroom. And I wasn’t going to use the public facility next to the pool for what I needed to do. I excused myself telling the women, “I’m running up to my room for a bit. I’ll be back in twenty.”

When I returned one woman mentioned how quick I was, and that if they went to their rooms, it would have taken twice as long. I learned they were on the fifth floor and the two rooms at the end of the hallway.

“Oh, I’m at the end too. I’m in 216,” I told them.

Yolanda interjected, “How funny, Jessica and I are in 516, and the others in 518.”

We had been at the pool for about five hours now and the ladies said they were heading up to their rooms. We made plans to meet at 6:00 pm at the lobby bar. This gave us two hours to rest, hydrate, and get ready.

I walked with the ladies to the elevator and when I exited at my floor told them I’d see them soon. I was happy to get into my air-conditioned room and instantly took a shower to wash off the chlorine, sunscreen, and sweat. I flopped on the bed naked and started to watch tv as I chugged two bottles of water.

About twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. I quickly threw on a pair of gym shorts assuming it was Housekeeping. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see Yolanda. She was obviously just out of the shower as she had wet hair and was wearing a tank top and shorts.

“I found your sunscreen in my bag and wanted to return it,” she said.

I invited her in and asked if she’d like anything to drink, mentioning that I was hydrating with water. “Yes, I’d love a bottle of water,” she said.

While I grabbed a bottle from the mini fridge she sat down on the loveseat. As we started to chat Yolanda said, “Can I ask you something serious?”

“Uh, sure,” I replied.

“Do you know what a ‘hotwife’ is,” she asked?

I felt a twitch in my cock. “Uh, isn’t that where the wife hooks up with other men and then tells her husband all about it to spice up their sex life?” I said.

Yolanda smiled at me, “Yes, that is it exactly. And I am a Hot Wife. Look, you’re good looking and we have some chemistry. Would you like to hook up a few times the next few days?”

“Are you kidding me? Is this a prank? Did the girls put you up to this?” I asked.

She laughed, “No, the girls did not put me up to this. And the girls have no idea about this part of my life so please do not say anything.”

I stood up off the bed and took a few steps toward her and bent over and kissed her on the lips. “Of course, I’d love to get naked with you,” I told her. Sensing a bit of submissiveness in her, I ordered, “Suck my cock.”

Yolanda smiled and pulled down my gym shorts to find my cock hanging down past my balls. She took it in her hand and leaned forward to kiss my head and lick the shaft. I was rock hard within five seconds. “I want you to cum in my mouth since I just showered,” she said.

Over the next five minutes, she kissed, licked, sucked, and stroked my manhood with one hand while the other played with my balls. I could sense I was close, so I told her, “I’m really close. Faster. Go faster.”

As she bobbed on my meat stick, I began thrusting my hips, forcing my fat six-inch cock down her throat causing her to gag a few times. Saliva was all over her chin and dripping down on her upper chest and running down her cleavage, but she did not care.

Yolanda then started flicking her tongue on my frenulum which drove me crazy. “OH FUCK! OH SHIT! YES!” I yelled as I busted my nut in her mouth.

She kept her lips tight around my cock taking every drop of jizz in her mouth. As my dick shrunk and I slid out of her mouth she looked up and me and opened her mouth displaying my large load on her tongue. She closed her mouth, smiled, and swallowed. “That was fun,” she said. Yolanda stood up and grabbed my head and we kissed. I could taste my man milk on her tongue.

“Yeah, that was fun. Can I return the favor, or do you need to get back?” I inquired.

“I need to go, but tonight we will do much more,” she said.

“So, I’ll meet you at the bar?” I asked.

“Yes. And remember, the girls have no clue about my hotwife life,” she said seriously.

“I got it," I said. I slapped Yolanda on the ass as she walked towards the door.

“Oh Daddy, have I been a bad girl?” she said laughing.

I grinned, “Get out of here. See you soon.”

End Part One