Anniversary Vacation

So far, it had been a wonderful vacation, our taking a break from
work, celebrating life and our wedding anniversary and being together,
having fun with each other. It was a celebration for me being lucky
enough to have Helen in my life -- this smart sexy woman was mine.

Especially lucky when there were times like these.

I loved looking at her when she was like this, at her red hair,
framing her head on the pillow, at her face, now a little flushed,
glowing under a sheen of perspiration.

Looking as she lay there, her eyes closed, her mouth a little open,
her tongue wetting her lips, making those little noises in pace with
my own movements.

Her hands were above her head, I was holding them there.

When did I do that?

I loved her, lusted after her, even after being married to her for ten
years.

I looked down at her neck, and saw her pulse there, looked lower still
at her breasts, crowned with erect nipples. She never has to pretend
to be pleased.

I looked over her pale belly, to darker-but-still-red hair trimmed in
a bikini cut, and my own dark hair merged with it, on it.

I watched as I moved my hips, revealing a glistening shaft, and
pressed in again, the action moving her body under mine, her breasts
moving too, with each motion.

I closed my eyes, remembering something else, one of two really erotic
stories she told me.

A story about her, after her divorce, when she was lonely and hurting.

Of her being at the lounge at the Garden City Hotel after attending a
meeting there.

Of her meeting Haroldo, a horse owner, Spanish, living at the hotel
while his horses were racing at Belmont. People who know Long Island
will recognize that is not an inexpensive choice.

She had told me of being charmed by his accent, and by him, and loving
the attention he lavished on her.

And how, after an hour of being enchanted by him, of being made to
feel better about herself by him, she accepted his suggestion to join
him in his room.

I liked to remember how she told me she went there, of at first
sitting beside him on the bed, of touching and kissing, and then going
into the bathroom, and then of leaving it wrapped only in one of the
large towels the hotel was proud to provide, of Haroldo unwrapping it
as though she were the most precious gift, and of his loving her,
making love to her, as though she really was the most beautiful woman
in the world.

I was sure Haroldo could still remember how she looked under him, as
he took her that night so many years ago. I was sure he couldn't help
compare any other woman to his memory of Helen.

My eyes were closed, imagining that scene, of her, my wife, my Helen,
under that man, accepting him into her body.

I couldn't help myself. My own motions became faster, my excitement
built.

I felt Helen pull a hand free and opened my eyes, as she reached
between us. Then came her touch - how could her touch be so charged,
so electric, even after all these years? Her eyes, still noticeably
green in the subdued light, were smiling.

"You're thinking of him again, aren't you? Or me and her?"

She captured my penis between thumb and forefinger, and was stroking
me. God, she could tease!

"Fess up, I know when you move like that you're thinking of me and
Haroldo or me and Betty, right?"

I was quiet for a moment, remembering the other story then whispered
"Heroldo.'

Her fingers changed their pace, their pressure, bringing even more
excitement, more lust.

"Tell me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"About you and him and that night."

"Bad boy!" Her stroking became more insistent. "I always thought men
were supposed to be upset if their wives behaved a little on the
trashy side before they were married. Not you, though." Her eyes were
alive with delight and mischief and I felt those little spasms in her
vagina.

"I wish I could make up stories as well as I remember things, if this
is going to be my reward. . ."

I couldn't help himself: "I wish you did have other stories like
that," I said, but by then we were past talk - our bodies said
everything that needed to be said.

Later, dressed in the terry robes the resort put in every room, we
went onto the balcony. The resort was built in a vee, opening onto the
Pacific. We could see it lapping at the hotel's private black sand
beach.

Our room was on the fifth of Maui Palace's ten floors, and midway out
the vee. Now at sunset, the light poured into our side of the vee. At
sunrise, the other side glistened, offering just vague shapes with
reflections - a beautiful romantic place.

She stood at the rail, and I, behind her, was still erect enough so
that she knew, with just our robes between us.

"For someone married ten years, you're a horny man," she said while
she moved herself against me, enjoying making me more excited.

"Hey, with a woman like you, any man would be excited. Or any woman,
for that matter."

She chuckled. "Sometimes I'm sorry I ever told you about that stuff,
Al."

She felt me press against her. "Well, maybe not, not if keeping you
happy and horny is my reward."

"I like both stories," I reminded her.

"I don't understand what turns men on when they hear about two woman,
but whatever works, lover," she said, feeling my excitement.

The two women story happened to Helen in college, she and a sorority
sister, her roommate, were talking about how men just didn't know how
to touch or kiss a woman, and they decided to experiment with each
other. It happened only once, but -- I felt a stirring - it did
happen. "I like thinking about you doing that, that 'practice
kissing', you called it."

"Yeah, but you liked hearing about the practice touching better,
didn't you?"

"Sure did, and even better, the. . "

"Come on, Al, that embarrasses me."

"I know, but still, your telling me about it is a turn-on, a big one.
Tell it again."

"OK," she said, ,moving back hard against me, "you asked for it. Yes,
dear husband, when I was at Smith, doing all of that 'exploring' of
sensuality, Betty and I were in opur room one Saturday night when most
of our sisters were out on dates, and we decided to experiment. We
were sitting on my bed talking the way college girls do, and we did
kiss, and it was exciting. And you know she started rubbing my back,
and I didn't stop her when seh touched the side of my breast. It was
sexy and shy, the way she kept tocuhing the buttons on my blouse,
until I told her to do whatever she wanted."

"I love this story," I told her.

"I know you do, I can feel how much you do because you keep pushing my
butt with your penis, and it's getting hard. So anyway, she unbuttoned
my blouse, and I helped her do that, and I took it off. She kissed at
my neck, and you know how hot that gets me. I sort of let myself lay
back, and she began kissing at my cleavage, so yes, I was the one to
do it, I took off my bra, and she kissed my breast."

I've heard this story a dozen times or more, it always had the same
effect on me.

"So she was the aggressor, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But God I was getting really hot, and when she
began moving down, I didn't know what to do, but I remember thinking
that college, especially Smith, is all about learning about ourselves,
so when she got to my belly I kicked off my sandels, and unbuttoned my
shorts, and lifted up, and. . ."

"And you both pushed them down, so you were naked, right?"

"You know that's what happened. Then Betty, she. . ."

"She went down on you."

"Yes."

"And then?"

"I already told you this, that sne nearly took me to an orgasm, and I
told her to get undressed too."

"And she did, didn't she?"

"You know she did, and then we were side by side, sixty nining, and we
made each other come with our mouuths. After we were done and talked
about it, I decided I like penises better than vaginas to play with me
and now I'm all excited too, and you better be ready to do the same
thing today out here you did yesterday."

Yesterday, after sex in the afternoon, we stood in the same place in
the sun, and I lifted the back of her robe, parted the front of mine.
People on the beach and in the courtyard below saw us, one behind the
other, enjoying the view. Had they looked a little more closely, they
might have seen that I was also enjoying being in my wife, that her
stance was a little strange, pelvis tilted away from the railing, and
moving back and forth in counter-time to my small movements, too.

I turned her for still another kiss.

"Is this kiss the start of the next orgy for two, or the end of the
last one?" she wanted to know.

"Probably both, Hot Helen."

"I like when you think hot thoughts about me. Too bad we have only two
more nights in Paradise. . ."

"We'll make the most of them. Scuba tomorrow with Stan and Barbara,
then more beach time, maybe I'll try a surf board again."

We had met Barbara and Stan who also staying at the resort, and who
liked to do some of the same things we do. We shared some beach time
and meal times with them.

She interrupted: "After watching you trying to surf yesterday, dear
sir - clutzy sir - you're going to have to do that one alone. I
couldn't bear to watch again. And, by the way," moving even closer to
me, "exactly what did you mean, you wish I had more stories? Haroldo
or Betty aren't good enough? And you know I was pretty wild in
college."

I thought about that. "Even Haroldo was what, thirteen years ago? We
get a lot of mileage from that, though. I'm thinking current events,
not history."

"Yeah, it was thirteen years. And when you talk about it, and then do
things to me, it makes it as good as it was then. Maybe better."

"That's nice of you to say, but if you think about it, you really
loved that evening with him, didn't you?" The Heroldo story still had
legs.

We walked back inside, and lay on the bed again.

"Yeah, I did. I only did that the one time. . ."

"I like to think about him doing this," I said, untying her robe's
belt, and moving the garment to either side.

Helen sat up, pushing me down, and got my robe open, too.

"Tell me what you think about, when you think about him and me," she
wanted to hear that again.

"I like to think about how it looked, and how it felt for him to touch
you, and kiss you, and, what it looked like when you touched him. You
know all of that, I told you before."

"Tell me more, tell me again, tell me tell me tell me." She had her
hand around my penis, now, and I felt her stroking begin again, and
felt me getting a little harder, again.

I let my mind go to its favorite erotic thought. "I love thinking
about how it was when he got on you, when you opened yourself up for
him, and when you had him so excited, and when he pushed into you. I
love thinking about that. I absolutely love thinking of him in you,
and moving in you, and his penis pulsing and filling you with his
sperm, of him cumming in you that time. . .. . .sometimes I wish. . ."
I started to say.

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me," each phrase corresponding to her
pushing down, making my penis's head uncover, then cover again.

"I wish. . ."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell mmmmm" and her mouth covered the head
now.

"Sometimes I wish you'd make up more stories, or be naughty and get
more stories."

She lifted her head, her stroking continuing. "Naughty? I thought it
was naughty or nice, and I want to be nice. I'm too old and too
married to be naughty."

"Sometimes, honey, with married people, naughty IS nice," I reminded
her.

"Oh," she said, acting as though my penis was someone to talk to.
"That other prick thinks naughty is nice. I don't think he means
that."

"Sometimes I wish that you would be, ah, naughty, that you could call
Haroldo, and tell him he could have seconds."

"Will you listen to that other prick, talking to his wife like that?
You'd think he wanted me to find someone like you to talk to, or maybe
to do this to. . ."

And she planted a kiss on that purple head, it was starting to throb.
Oh, that was nice.

She looked up at me. "Be careful what you wish for, honey."

"Yeah, I know, but when we're doing it, my mind goes places it
shouldn't."

She moved against me again.

"Tell me again where it goes - you bad man!"

"I just love that story, Helen, I love the idea that you had a one
night stand like that. I wish you had done it more." I hugged her,
kissed her. I couldn't help himself. "Sometimes I wish you'd do it
again."

She kissed back, not angry as I feared she might be. . "What an idea.
What a thing to say to a woman you've been married to for ten years.
After ten years and during an anniversary vacation on Hawaii he
finally reveals to his wonderful, faithful, pure as snow wife what he
really is like, what he really likes." The tone of her voice, the
pressure of her body and the expression on her face let me know she
was enjoying this.

"What do you think of this? Someday, if there's an opportunity, just
maybe I'll grant you your wish."

A final squeeze, and before I could respond she changed the subject.
"Honey, let's go down to dinner."

We slept that night like young lovers, wrapped in each other, loving
each other, touching.

Morning came with an early awakening. We had a call from Barbara and
Stan, whose rental car we were taking to the boat. The four of us
rushed to meet our dive master.

I was distracted during the dive, admiring my wife, with her pale skin
accented by her white bikini, with her hair flowing in the water, the
image as beautiful as the formations we swam over. Barbara and Stan,
diving nearby, inhibited anything else I might want to do, I realized.
I briefly looked at Barbara, and saw that she was kind of pretty, too.
Still, I'd rather look at Helen.

The trip ended at noon, and the drive back to the resort took only
minutes.

"I need a nap," I told the group. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," was my
parting shot to Stan and Barbara as Helen and I got off at the fifth
floor, while they continued up one more, to their room, somewhere
above ours.

"When you say nap, do you mean, to sleep," Helen wondered, "or to make
love?"

"It's gotta be to sleep, first. You, woman, are wearing me out! Maybe
I'll dream about. . ."

"Heroldo?"

"No, I'll give that a rest. I'll think about you and Betty."

She sat on the bed. "That gets your engine running, too, doesn't it?
It was really nothing, just an experiment, that's all."

"Yeah sure, but a sexy one."

"I kind of understand the interest in stories about a man and a woman,
but I sure don't know what turns you on about two women."

I pulled her to me. "Look, you're the one who told me about it, about
the practice kissing and stuff. I like thinking about what you did to
each other that night."

"It wasn't that big a deal. In the end, we decided we weren't
lesbians."

"Yeah, but you went through the motions, didn't you?"

By then we were moving together.

"Yeah, like I told you yesterday, the getting naked, the touching,
knowing just how to touch a woman, something you guys aren't that good
at, you need a lot of training, and. . ."

"Yeah, and how to give head to a woman, too."

It was enough to drive us over the edge.

Finally, I reminded her. "Babe, I gotta sleep. There's not too much of
me left."

"OK."

She took a quick shower, and I heard her say "I'm not sleepy. I'll
wonder around a while."

I had to have fallen asleep in minutes. Nearly two hours later I felt
light kisses.

"Honey, come on, wake up."

"What a nice way to wake up, being kissed by a beautiful woman who
happens to be my wife. Where you doing while I was sleeping?"

"I went to the beach to sit and soak up every minute of our time
here."

"Good."

"Uh, Al?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"I was thinking about what you were saying about getting naughty
stories for us to play with. Are you serious about that?"

"Sure am."

"Honey, a long time ago I was pretty uninhibited, but with you, I
never really felt the need to be wild like that anymore. You're a
wonderful husband. But you know, if that kind of thing gets you
excited, we could try it. We're far from home, and no one knows us
here. Maybe I should be naughty here."

Oh oh. Most times, in a marriage, at least one member can keep a level
head. I wasn't level headed, and it looked like my wife wasn't,
either. My answer wasn't considered, it was reflexive. "Oh, you are a
bad little girl. We're only here for a couple more nights, you don't
have much time, but I'd bet you can act fast if you want to. You tell
me what you're thinking about."

"Al, while I was on the beach, a really cute thing happened. A guy
came over to flirt to me."

"A guy, what guy?" Maybe she was faster than I realized.

"He's Irish, his name's Michael, and he has the brogue to prove it.
'What's a fine Irish lass like yourself sitting alone on the beach all
about?' he wanted to know."

"'Not Irish, American,' I told him, but he told me anyone who'd let a
lovely Irish woman like me off the Emerald Isle had to be a Brit or a
Roman or some other enemy of Ireland. He was really funny - they
really do have a way with words, don't they?"

"Maybe so. It does sound like he was flirting with you. Or, were you
flirting with him?"

"It was a little bit of both, honey. I don't know if he felt it, but I
could feel real tension in the air between him and me. I was thinking
too much about what you wished for in a safe and beautiful place like
this."

"And I thought I was too bold when I was telling you what I fantasized
about. Shame on you, girl!"

She had a way of tilting her head, of glancing at me that was so
childlike I couldn't help but laugh, as she explained ""Oh mister, I
thought that was what you wanted me to do." Her eyes fluttered. "I
thought I was supposed to get some big bad man all excited, and if
that big bad thing he had hanging there grew up and pointed at me I
thought I was supposed to let it point inside me too, and to allow
myself to be ravaged by him, and then come back and tell you all about
it, while you ravaged me too." She couldn't keep a straight face as
she said "Please forgive me, that's what I though you wanted."

"You're right," I told her, laughing. "You are supposed to do that!"

She stopped laughing, and looked at me, her 'I'm going to get you now,
buster' smile on her face. "Honey, before Michael came back into the
hotel, he told me he's going down for cocktails at 4:30, and it'd
break his heart and ruin his whole day, his whole weekend, and maybe
his whole life if I didn't meet him. He said, and I don't know why, he
couldn't have a drink after 7 tonight."

"You're making all of this up!"

"Go ahead, you think that, and I WILL go meet him! I don't want to
ruin his whole life, and the lives of his children and grandchildren,
too."

"Did he actually say that?"

"You bet he did."

"Is he really that much fun?"

"He really is, honey."

"Did you tell him you were here with your husband?"

"Uh. . . no. He assumed I was with that group of teachers staying
here, and I never had a chance to correct him."

"Come on, Helen, what's this 'never had a chance'?"

"I guess I mean I never took the chance. The flirting he was doing was
way too much fun."

"What kind of a woman did I marry, carrying on like that? Was he
making a move on you?" My words said one thing, but Helen could see
right through that.

"I think so, I think he was making a move."

"Was he, uh, sexy?"

"Yeah, a lot, for a guy about fifty five. Now that I think about it,
Haroldo was about fifteen years older than me, too."

"You mean, he's like Haroldo?"

"Not really. Wait a minute, in some ways, yeah he is, he can make a
woman feel good, feel sexy."

"Did it make you feel good when you were flirting with him?"

"Oh, don't be mad kind sir, but yes, sir, it did!"