A Foreign Holiday
A Foreign Holiday
I needed to get away. Not wanted, needed. I'd just finished a huge writing assignment and I was burnt. So much so that my usual companion told me to go. I knew I needed to go, so I hit the internet, looking for something.....different. Jamaica seemed to fill the bill; nearby, not too expensive, a little exotic. But where to go? I looked at cruises, family places, all inclusive, until I hit on Hedonism. Hedonism? At least they're up front. And the unconstrained pursuit of pleasure sounded pretty good, so I booked a stay for the next week.
Flying to Jamaica is no picnic. The flight was like a bad Greyhound bus ride- crying kids, old ladies with shopping bags, ...you get the idea. Mercifully, the flight was short. The airport was not much better. At least the shuttle was there waiting once I cleared customs. Just me and one other group were on the return trip- a group of four anthro Poodles. Well, I could use some time alone. We got to the resort in about forty five minutes. I checked in, and hit my room. Hedonism is all inclusive, so dinner was an easy choice. I took a short nap, showered, and went downstairs. Looks like I booked seriously off peak. Only the group of Poodles were there to dine this Friday night. Luckily, the girls took pity, and invited me over. Seems they were a group of friends, who did this sort of thing regularly. There was Marcia, a platinum blonde, elegant and older. There were twin sisters, who seemed mostly to talk to each other. Then there was Violet. She was the youngest, and I suspected, maybe a little crazy. Perhaps her purple hair was a clue. Anyway, we had a nice dinner, shared a couple bottles of decent wine, and bid farewell. I headed back for my room.
As I walked the path to my bungalow, I sensed someone behind me. It was Marcia.
"Going home alone?" she asked. I nodded my head.
"Seems a shame. Vacation and all. "
Marcia was standing right in front of me when I felt something surprising. She had put her hand down my pants. Now, don't misunderstand me. I'm a pretty open minded guy. But, before this, I'd stayed within my own species. There was something about her that drew me in. She was older, but certainly attractive. Big blond hair, a nice set of curves. And those hormones. Before I knew it, Sgt. Peter was at full attention. She pulled me toward a big palm tree. Leaning against the tree, she undid my pants. In one swift motion, she pushed her split skirt aside, and there it was...paradise in the moonlight.
Entering her was...like silk. Or butter. Smooth and heavenly. Never been with anyone who took a penis as effortlessly as she did. And the sex was...well, it was remarkable. I started out looking over my shoulder, cause, well, we were right on a footpath. Each time, she turned my face back to her.
If it were within my power to grant degrees in sexual prowess, I'd have given her a PhD. We did eventually make it back to the room. Clearly, the thing under the palm was just an appetizer. She had more moves than a Bangcock hooker. By dawn, I'd been fucked within an inch of my life. At dawn, she said something about her friends, kissed me on the forehead and left. I fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.
A few hours later, I heard the room door open. I figured it was housekeeping. I tried to warn her that I was still there, but it wasn't housekeeping. It was the twins. Somehow, they had gotten a passkey, and had let themselves in. With breakfast. Hell, if GW Bush showed up in my bedroom with coffee, I'd likely let him in. With twin Poodle girls, there was no contest.
I didn't eat breakfast. They fed me. Or, more precisely, they took turns feeding me. Little bites of bacon and biscuit, interrupted by awesome Jamaican coffee. When I had finished, they wiped my mouth, then pushed me flat to the mattress. Both twins dressed the same; a leotard and a skirt. One was in lavender; the other in peach. As sweet and demure as they were, they were utter sexual predators. Not bothering to undress, the first climbed aboard, taking my full eight inches without so much as a whimper. Flat on my back, she did all the work, fucking me like a sailor on shore leave. When Miss Lavender got off, Miss Peach got on. And they had the same thing going on; the minute I was inside her, she fucked me within an inch of my life. And when they were done, they left. Sure, they flirted and laughed. But they took care of business, and left. Damn strange, I remember thinking. I went to take a shower.
Frankly, the rest of the vacation was a bit of an anti climax. I saw the falls at Dunn's River. Went to Kingston. Tried some local restaurants. But, with an introduction like I'd had, where was this trip to go but downhill.?
It was a nice vacation all the same. I got to doze in the hot tub, play some tennis, and smoked more local dope than I can remember. I didn't see much of the Poodles after that first night, but, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I could have kept that pace for three days.
Before I knew it, my vacation was at an end. Bags packed, I dragged them down to the front desk, put my tab on Amex, and waited for the shuttle. Just before we left, the girls rushed in. Typical, I thought. Four girls, one bathroom. Soon, they had checked oyt, and we boarded the limo for the airport.
Now, this was a true limo, not a van. A Caddy, I think, several years old, and showing it's age. As we pulled away from the resort, the young one, Violet, asked me a strange question...
"What's the matter? I'm not good enough?"
From here on, things got hazy. Someone put the partition up. I could have sworn that Marcia slipped the driver a twenty. Anyway, Violet dropped my pants, and gave me incredible oral, all while her three friends watched. Then, she hikes her really short white skirt, and drops on my cock like a ton of bricks. She did me like a jackhammer, pounding hard enough to break concrete. All the while, she bit my neck. It would be a problem when I got home, but, to be frank, I didn't care. Violet was the wettest of the four, and by far, the most aggressive. The limo had a partition, but it was clear glass. From time to time the driver looked back and smiled, but I could have cared less. I came inside Violet three times on the way to the airport. I found myself worried that she'd be awfully wet on the way home.
The airport finally appeared through the windshield. We said our goodbyes. We promised to stay in touch, but , somehow I knew that wasn't in the cards. During the flight, we kept to ourselves.
At the airport, I can't recall who met the Poodles. I do remember who met me. I remember lying my ass off about my trip. Then, back to work.
I've never had an experience like that again. That's OK; I know that I was lucky to have gone there once. But, I know it's weird, but sometimes when I'm, you know, with my lover, I think about them. I imagine 'm in a limo, having sex with a Poodle while the whole world watches....
And I just don't care.