I tried to concentrate on the weather report but my husband Bill's fingers gliding across my inner thighs were such a distraction. His fingers skimmed the leg-band of my underwear, causing my legs to tremble.
"They're predicting at least two inches of snow for Christmas," I commented as I tried to control the sensations that his sly fingers were creating in my body. He was doing really wicked things under the veil of his coat, which he'd innocently draped over our laps while we waited for the airline to announce our flight to Nassau, the idyllic Bahamian capital.
It had been almost eighteen years since we'd spent our honeymoon there. The boys would be spending Christmas with friends. Even though I was happy to be alone with Bill I couldn't help worrying about them a little. They'd always been such a big part of our daily lives that it felt strange not to have them with us. But even now, before we left New York, my mind was remembering how much I did love my husband and how much I still craved his touch.
Sex had always been one of our biggest needs. I still found it amazing that the sight of Bill's rear end could still cause butterflies to go crazy in my stomach. I found him sexy when he was tender with our boys, teaching them what it meant to be real men with honor and integrity. I still got wet when he looked at me with that desire burning intensely in his amazing hazel eyes. His body has matured with time, and just like fine wine, it was now even better than the first time that I'd seen him naked.
His body was now a portrait of how hard he worked around our house, how much he played sports with the boys, and how much he loved being with me. With our teaching careers, the kids and the predictability of time, we'd lost sight of our sexual love...But his fingers were helping me to remember.
Still, the fact that we were in a public place made me want to pull back.
"I hope that the boys are careful on the streets," I said. "I'm sure that mom will make sure that they're safe," Bill looked over at me and smiled. "I don't know what you're worrying about Jasmine. For the next seven days, I don't have any boys. I'm not a father or a teacher. I'm just a man, in love with the most beautiful woman in the world and all I want to do is bask in the sun and make love to you."
His finger slipped into my panties. His eyes sparkled when he encountered my slippery desire.
"You keep talking like that and I may just have to have you in a most inconvenient place," I told him with a wicked smile. Bill removed his finger from my pussy and placed it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of me. "You have my permission to ravage me anytime and anywhere that you want," he told me.
I began to swoon. I could only hope that we made it safely to our hotel without gettingarrested for public indecency.
* * *
"It's just as beautiful as it was years ago," Bill observed as we settled into the back of our cab for the short ride from the Nassau International Airport to our hotel on the aptly named Paradise Island. Linked to Nassau by two bridges, a person could walk the length of it in a few hours.
At first glance, Nassau's Colonial history is still evident. Once part of Britain's vast empire, she still retained her old world charm and British sensibility. It wasn't unusual to see men and women in powdered wigs in front of the courthouse and government buildings. Yet among these traditions thrived Internet cafes, five star hotels and elegant boutiques.
As we drove down Bay Street, which was the heart of the island, I was amazed with the array of duty-free shopping catering to all major clothes and perfume designers, co-existing with what my research described as the largest straw market in the Caribbean.
But as we crested the bridge that lead to our hotel, I saw what I remembered most about the island: the breathing expanse of white sand beach I'd taken a little bottle of the powder-soft sand back home with me. I still had it in a cedar chest filled with sweet memories from my life. Bill and I had been so young back then. As we'd soaked up the local culture, all of our dreams had seemed possible. I rested my head on Bill's shoulder as those memories overwhelmed me. Not everything had turned out the way that we'd planned, but overall, I couldn't think about anything in my life that I would change.
Far away from the chaos of the small tourist city, hidden well among tropical trees, the Legacy Hotel was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Once a grand slave plantation, it had been converted into a cozy hideaway while still retaining an old British Colonial charm. The dark wood floors were polished to a high gloss and complemented the white plantation shutters. Sheer curtains danced with the tropical breeze to the tune of island birds in the distance. I could imagine Hemingway writing Islands In The Stream there.
Our suite was situated at the back of the property overlooking the ocean. It was breathtaking but the island life beckoned us. We first headed to a local restaurant where we enjoyed Bahamian fried fish and conch salad, and drank a few too many local beers. The people were as warm and friendly as their island. Their spirits were humble. They didn't seem to take anything about life too seriously. It was almost sensual how they seemed to take pleasure in everything around them. I could feel my stress melting away as the sun beat down on my pale flesh.
"Are you ready for an adventure?" I asked Bill.
He swooped me up into his arms and carried me to our rented scooters.
The narrow streets were lined with Christmas decorations. "I'm really looking forward to the Junkanoo festival," I told Bill when we stopped for a drink. We'd seen the festival for the first time on our first trip. It was held on? Christmas and New Year's Day and was comparable to carnival in Spanish countries. But the brightly colored costumes and hypnotic African dances could set my blood on fire like nothing I'd experienced in my life.
The festival always started at some ungodly early morning hour so Bill and I decided that this time, we just wouldn't go to bed in the first place. Riding around Nassau on a scooter in the early morning hours in a ?little grass skirt and top made me feel like I was eighteen again, and the goat-skinned drums sounded loud in my ears as we approached Bay Street.
It seemed that everyone on the island was out on the streets. We joined the dancing crowd. Bill pulled me into his arms. As our bodies gyrated to the rhythms of the music, I felt primal and highly aroused. I could feel his erection pressing into my back. Suddenly, I knew that we were at the right time and place to fulfill his ultimate fantasy.
I lifted his hands from my waist and placed them on my breasts. I looked up into his questioning eyes. My smile reassured him that I was ready. Bill slipped his hands under my top. My nipples were already hard. I reached under my skirt and untied one end of my string bikini. I backed further into him. I rubbed up against his hard cock. I knew that the front of his cargo pants was stained from his pre-come; his desire was always wet. I reached up and linked my fingers around his neck using his strength to stand on the tips of my toes and pushed my backside further into him.
Spurred on by the music, my hips picked up its fiery rhythms. For me, this dance was more than about a country's memorial celebration of its African and slave legacies, it was a release of the bonds that had held me from experiencing this transcendental bliss with my husband. Bill's breath was ragged against my face. He pinched my hard nipples and set my arm to tingling with his wet, wicked tongue. Heat spiraled down my body and centralized in my pussy. My hands left his neck in search of that heat. I ran my fingers over my clean shaven mound before slipping one of them into the warmth between my legs.
I slipped the finger inside of me. I found that ultra-sensitive ribbed flesh know as the g-spot. Slowly I began to massage it. One of Bill's hands moved down and cupped my behind. He massaged the flesh that wasn't as firm as it used to be but I loved him for not noticing or not caring. His fingers slipped between my cheeks. He hand slid lower and one of his fingers joined mine in my pussy. Together we massaged all of my sensitive areas. My moans were eaten up by the music. I was beyond caring about the people moving around us although I doubt that anyone noticed since we were only moving to the rhythm of the music and our fingers we well hidden under my skirt. But I wouldn't have been surprised to open my eyes and see another couple doing the same thing that we were; a lot of the people were on vacation, away from their stress and worries. The music and the alcohol were flowing freely and we were all caught up in the moment of revelry.
With my thumb, I massaged my clit. As the waves of pleasure rose to wash over me, I pulled my hand away, not ready to let go of the sweet sensations building inside. I reached behind me and unzipped Bill's pants. I pulled his cock through the opening. It felt wonderful in my hands. I knew each vein, each color distinction, each sensitive area, almost as well as I knew my own private parts. After all these years it could still make me forget my own name.
He removed his finger and expertly slipped it inside of me. The music was perfect for fucking. How could it still be this good? I wondered as he danced inside of me. Each sensation felt new, each contact sent a shiverdown my spine. His hands grabbed my hips as our bodies traveled to that special place of sweet release. My unheard chants of yes filled my soul as his release filled my body. When our body finally stilled, we weakly held onto each other. When we came back down to earth everything was still the same. The sun was just making its lazy crawl across the pristine morning sky. It bathed the dancers in a soft light in a rainbow of pastel colors. But we were different. We'd reached another level of intimacy in our relationship. I couldn't wait to see where we could go to next.
We took our new fetish to a secluded area of perfect beach later that day. The idea of knowing that we could be caught at any moment made our loving feel exciting and taboo. I straddled his hard cock while the sun beat down on us. Bill sat up and licked my salty breasts. I buried my fingers in the soft sand. This time our cries only competed with the sounds of the ocean. With his strong thigh muscles Bill hammered himself up into me. It was so good and pure it actually made me cry.
I also cried when we had to leave the island but the tears were bittersweet. We would have more vacations and every day was a chance for us to try something new and exciting.
Originally published December 2006 - "Oh, Oh, Oh!"