Hedonism Box Set (BBW Menage Swinger Romance): All Five Cuddly Swinger Episodes In One Volume! (Cuddly Swingers Book 6)

by Mia Moore

  The other two guys nodded. One of them said “I’m Dave.” He was about the same height and build as Frank, but instead of the jet black hair Frank had, his was ash brown. He was wearing sunglasses, shorts and sandals like his buddies. “Frank told us a lot about you.” He was smiling like a wolf.

  “Funny, he didn’t get a chance to tell me much about you guys.” I smiled when I said it.

  “Well, like I said, I’m Dave, and the quiet one here is Petey.” He gestured to the third guy. Petey was the tallest of the three and pretty slender. Don’t get me wrong, they were all in good shape, but it was like meeting two soccer players who were hanging out with a basketball player. Petey gave me a small wave.

  Frank flopped down next to my lounger. “So… got any plans for the day?” He started stroking my arm, from my elbow up towards my shoulder.

  I had been fantasizing about doing three guys at once since I booked this trip. And right in front of me were three good looking guys who were almost drooling for me, and it wasn’t even noon. Which is why what came out of my mouth baffled me.

  Covering Frank’s hand with mine, I said, “Well, babe, I need a break right now.” I expected to see looks of disappointment in their faces, but all I saw were nods of understanding.

  “Yeah,” said Dave. “I had a feeling from what Frank said about you.” He put one hand on his waist and pointed a finger at me. “I’ll bet you had a lot of fun last night, didn’t you? That girl you were dancing with—” he looked to the others “I think that was Carrie of Josh and Carrie.” Looking back at me he said “Was it?” When I nodded, he continued, “Yeah, her and Josh are a blast, Jess. Sometimes Unicorns jump in with both feet their first day and need a break to get centered again.”

  I tilted my head and looked at Dave with a lot more respect. When they approached my chair, I felt like I was back in High School being hit up by some of the Jock set. Back in the day, when guys like that did it, you felt like a piece of meat. This guy was as understanding as a psychotherapist. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I tried again, and said, “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

  He nodded, still smiling, which for some reason became cute now. “Yeah. It’s my third time, Dave’s the noob.”

  “Why?”

  “Hunh?”

  “Why do three good looking guys come here?”

  He gave a small shrug. “The party atmosphere rocks. Seriously, every night there’s something going on. On top of that, the women here are as good looking as the women at any other resorts, but here, the sex is practically a given, you know? I mean, here it’s not as big a deal.”

  “And there’s something else,” added Frank. “You get to stay friends with the people afterwards. I’ve stayed in touch with a few people from my previous times here.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure why, but the other places I’ve been to down south, I’ve never kept in touch with people I met down there.” He gave a grin. “It’s weird, but fucking breeds friendships.”

  Frank stood up. “We’re going to toss a Frisbee around. Want to join us? You can keep your clothes on.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I threw a Frisbee around. What the hell, I could use the exercise.

  I spent the morning with them just hanging out on the beach.

  They were nice. Funny as hell, to tell the truth. I didn’t have to remind anyone about my taking a break. When it came time for lunch, I told them I was going to the main restaurant. They were just going to get a bite at the grill that was at the beach. As I was leaving, they asked if I’d be at the hot tub tonight. “I’m not sure… maybe?”

  “Well, hope to see more of you there,” said Dave. This time, the group therapist leered at me, gazing up and down my body.

  I laughed. “Here’s a free sample!” I pulled my suit aside and flashed a boob.

  “RROWWLL!” he said. I tucked it back in, gave a toodle-oo wave and left.

  In the afternoon, I sat on the balcony of my room reading, and took a nap.

  When I woke up, it was around 3:00. What the hell. I called the front desk and made arrangements at the spa that’s on grounds.

  I had a facial once at my local salon, and it was pretty cool. This time I decided that I was going all out.

  I was going to do the whole damn thing this time.

  When I arrived at the spa, the receptionist handed me a price list. I barely looked at it, just enough to order their most expensive services. Did you know that you can get a champagne and caviar facial? I sure didn’t. It was their most expensive one, and since I got money to burn, I wanted to see just what the hell that was going to be like!

  The facial was unlike anything I ever experienced. It was decadent. Then I had a body scrub where they used sea salt and herbs to do an exfoliation from tip to tail. I didn’t need any waxing, because I had that taken care of before I left. I did have my hair and nails done too. I went for hooker red for the nails (what else?) and had my hair put up in a French Braid.

  I hope Steve liked it. I didn’t know why I did; I barely knew the guy.

  On my way back from the spa, I stopped at the boutique again and bought a beautiful dress.

  I was back in my room with just enough time to get dressed before Steve would be there. I just knew that he’d show up at 7:15 on the dot.

  And I was right.

  Chapter 4: On The Dot

  Steve

  The day was a total bust. I was given a run around like there was no tomorrow at the airport. The stuff was there, but the customs agents were on some kind of a job action, and everything was moving slow. I mean, I know Jamaica runs on ‘Ire Mon’ time at best, but these clowns added a whole new meaning to the word. I had to visit three different offices, and each time there was a question or error or whatever on the paperwork, those bastards made me do it all over again.

  I finally threw up my hands in surrender, and asked for a phone book. As soon as I got it, I looked up ‘Custom Brokers’. I had been trying to do the paperwork myself because these guys charge an arm and a leg. But I was beaten down. I found a guy who had an office at the airport and went to see him.

  ‘No problem, mon’ happened almost immediately. He took some information, made a couple of phone calls, and told me my shipment would be in his warehouse overnight, and ready to be picked up, all the ‘I’s’ dotted and ‘T’s’ crossed the next morning.

  On top of that, when he learned what was on the manifest and where it was going, he dropped his fee by 30%.

  I had to hurry to get back to Hedo, shower and get into my clothes for 7:15. I made it right on the money, and was knocking on Jessy’s door on the dot.

  She opened the door and we stared at each other.

  She was fucking gorgeous. Her hair was done up in a French braid, and her makeup made her skin glow. I don’t have a better word for it. She was radiant. She was wearing a handkerchief hemmed red dress that clung to every luscious curve without looking tight. She must have gotten her nails done or something; long red nails that drive me crazy graced her fingers.

  I imagined them clawing at my back and immediately got a chubby.

  “Jessy, you look incredible!” I said.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself Steve-O.” She smiled when she said it. How the hell did she know that was my nickname? I don’t remember anyone using it in her presence, but what the hell. “I’m glad I got dressed up,” she continued, “you in a jacket and all.”

  Damn glad I picked that blazer up. I drew the line at wearing a tie, though. That would have been too much. “These are for you,” I said, handing her a small bouquet of tropical flowers.

  She did that thing with her lower lip again, and her face got almost serious. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “I love getting flowers.” She took them with both hands and held them in front of her, cradling them. “I hope I got a vase or something…” her voice trailed off.

  “Uhh… may I come in?” I said.

  She popped out of her reverie, and op
ened the door wide. “Sure! Sorry! C’mon in!”

  Stepping into her suite, I pointed to the closet by the door. “I think they keep a vase on the top shelf. I’ve never been in one of the new rooms since the renovations, but I know they used to have something kicking around the upper end rooms.” Sure enough, one was there.

  When I brought it off the shelf and handed it to her, I got a whiff of her scent. Oh man, she was wearing Juniper Breeze. It was as fresh as an ocean’s surf on a clear morning with a hint of berry on top. My knees got weak for just a second. “Alright, Pam,” I thought, “I asked you for some kind of sign. Now she’s wearing your scent? Message received loud and clear.”

  She wandered into the bathroom and filled the vase and put the flowers in it. Coming back to the room, she stood on tiptoe and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” She set them on the bureau opposite her bed, and spent about a minute primping and arranging them in the vase with her back to me. “Home damn run, Steve-O,” I thought as I watched her luscious, spankable ass. Stopping her flower arranging, she itched the corner of her eye, inhaled and turned around.

  Her eyes were shining. Man, I can’t remember getting such a response for dropping a few bucks on some flowers in a long, long time.

  “So, I assume there’ll be no problem in getting a table?” she asked smiling.

  I put my hands out in front of me, palms up, “I made him an offer he can’t refuse,” I said in a gravelly voice.

  She cocked her head to the side. “The Godfather—Al Pacino, right?”

  “Brando.”

  “Right,” she nodded. “You like old movies too?”

  “I shure do schweet heart.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Who’s that?”

  “Humphrey Bogart.” Seeing the look in her eyes, I asked “Ever see ‘Casablanca’?”

  “No. I’ve heard about it though.”

  “Or ‘The African Queen?’?”

  “No. Is it any good?”

  “Yeah, they both are.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to check them out. I love old movies! Rocky, Taxi Driver, Cuckoo’s Nest… yeah, there’s some classics.”

  She stood there for a moment. “I guess we should head over to the restaurant?” She moved to the closet and took a silk shawl from a hanger. I stepped over, draped it across her shoulders, and we headed out.

  Chapter 5: ‘I’ll Be Your Wing Man’

  Jess

  It was a date!

  We left my room chatting about old movies and really old movies. Steve-O liked movies from the ‘40’s and ‘50’s, and I liked movies from the ‘70’s and ‘80’s. He saw a lot of the 80’s flicks as a kid, but neither of us saw any of the movies from the other time periods other than online or on TV. He loved doing bits from them too. On the walkway we went back and forth ‘What did you think of X? And didn’t Y stink?’ Before we knew it, we were at the restaurant.

  The head waiter looked up at us and back down at his seating chart puzzled. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re full,” he said.

  “I know,” said Steve. “We have the General Manager’s table for 7:30. My name is Steve Doucet.”

  The head waiter’s eyes flitted down to the list on his podium and back up. Now smiling warmly, he said “Of course, Mr. Steve. Your table is ready. Let me take you to it.” He stepped away from the podium and guided us to a table. On the way, he gave a nod to one of the waiters who brought up the rear.

  Steve had taken my hand when we entered the dining room, and it felt natural. When we got to our table, the first guy stood by one of the chairs and pulled it out. I stopped for a second, and Steve again guided me to the chair. I stepped in front of it and just as I was starting to sit, the head waiter gently moved it in until it touched the back of my knees.

  I looked around. It was a nice restaurant—as nice as any good one back home. While people in the buffet restaurant were as naked as possible, everyone here was dressed nicely; Steve and I weren’t out of place at all. The walls were painted burnt sienna. Large paintings with a Mediterranean motif caught the golden light that suffused the room. There were large statues of nudes and almost nudes placed around the dining room. It was busy, but not loud.

  The handsome Jamaican in a white shirt and black slacks welcomed us and asked for a drink order. I wanted a beer like anything, but I didn’t want to seem… well, you know.

  “Two Red Stripes please,” said Steve. “In frosted mugs.” He looked at me. “That okay with you, Jessy? I’m parched.”

  “Sure.”

  Don’t get me wrong—I’ve been on a few dates to nice places. I’m not some kind of hayseed, okay? I did feel a little unsure of myself though. I didn’t want to give the wrong impression. He wore a jacket after all. I’ll admit it—it was my first date where the guy not only brought me flowers, but also wore a jacket. First date that a guy ever wore a jacket.

  Here’s the really weird part of our dinner. We never got around to the ‘getting to know you’ stuff. You know, what do you do for a living, where did you go to school, own or rent… all those questions that go back and forth on a first date so you can decide if it’s going to go anywhere. I can’t lie, for me, it’s like a checklist or something.

  Instead, we just talked. About stuff here and now. He told me how he knew Carrie and Josh, from a previous time here, and how long he’s known Dan and Karen Baker. He’s crazy about Karen, and thinks that Dan is a straight shooter and lot of fun. In fact, during the entire evening, he didn’t say a word against anyone or anything. Even when we talked politics for all of two minutes, the hardest thing he would say about people in Washington is that he thought they all were trying to best they could.

  We talked about movies a lot. It seems that when he was in college, he took a introductory course on ‘Film’ that, as he put it ‘changed movies forever’. He took the course to just fill out a requirement, and said it was the best course of all the time he was at school. When I asked him (I think you’re supposed to ask anyone who’s been to college) what was his major, he waved it off saying ‘Mostly sleeping and drinking’. Then he changed the subject.

  I guess it was obvious that I didn’t even go to Junior college, and he didn’t want to spend any time on our different education levels. I hoped that was what he was doing.

  When the waiter brought the menus, Steve suggested that we have their filet steak. Here’s the thing—on a first date, I always ate ‘lite’. I know I’m big, but I didn’t want to call attention to it. When Steve made the suggestion, I went right along with it. I’m glad I did because it was scrumptious.

  Dinner was unhurried, and we ordered a bottle of wine with our meal. We had a second bottle with dessert, and before we knew it, we had been at the restaurant for over two hours! After dessert we each had an Irish coffee, Jamaican style, and it was perfect.

  I didn’t learn a lot about Steve through the course of the dinner. I learned he lives in Colorado, and he’s single. Most of all, I learned he’s only 13 years older than me. When I told him I was 32 years old, he genuinely looked surprised.

  “I had you pegged as being in your mid-twenties.” The look on his face said he really meant it.

  “You look almost relieved,” I said with a laugh.

  “Well… yeah.” He looked down at his wineglass. “I was worried I was cradle robbing or something.”

  “I call bullshit. You were worried you’re too old for me, weren’t you?”

  He looked up and rolled his tongue under his cheek. He looked me right in the eye. “Yeah,” he said.

  “And now you think you got a shot with me.”

  “Yeah,” and he said that softly.

  Just like that, everything changed. We looked at each other for a count of… well, forever I guess. He has the most beautiful eyes, did you know that? Finally, I said “Yeah,” back at him and left it at that.

  He rubbed his fingertip in the table. “Would you like to go dancing? The disco’s open.”

  “Yeah.”


  ****

  He had some pretty good moves on the dance floor, let me tell you. He didn’t move in on me right away either. We danced to a couple of faster beat songs, had some more beers, and did it again. When a slow, throbbing reggae beat started later on, he asked me if I’d like to try that song.

  And everything changed again.

  He didn’t maul me, he courted my body. That sounds stupid, but it’s the only thing I can think of to describe it. When we got on the dance floor, he took me in his arms this time, and there was two things that happened.

  The first was that he made me feel small. He’s pretty tall—way taller than me anyway. And when he wrapped his arms around me, I felt petite. Yeah, me, petite. I nestled right into him. The music was so sensual and his rhythm to it was so good that I closed my eyes and let him guide me on the floor.

  The second thing was just how right it felt. It was like we’d been dancing together for years. The slightest nudge from his body told my body where to step next. It was great.

  And when his hands started to stroke my back, everything changed again. Feeling the pressure of his hands across my back, and the growing stiffness between his legs flipped a switch in me. I cuddled into him even more, grinding my pelvis into his growing manhood; telling him with my body that the feeling was mutual.