Full Caribbean Moon - Sex Stories

Full Caribbean Moon

... were ordered, a margarita for him, a Blue Jamaican for her. Before the waitress could deliver the beverages, the couple made their way to the floor and began to groove to the mixture of standards and reggae. Terri was happy Will was giving in so easily, and let her body go, as it had in the disco bars of her youth. Four or five songs passed, she could feel the welcome perspiration beginning to ooze from her pores. "Had enough?" Will asked, when the local equivalent of a country and western song was played. "Sure," Terri reluctantly agreed. The vacationers found their table, greedily quaffed their potions. A few songs later, the band began to play Ring My Bell, one of her favorite disco songs. "You want to go back out?" she suggested. "In a few minutes," Will delayed, "I think I'd better hit the head first." Will often danced just a little, then called it a night. Terri was disappointed, she'd hoped to dance the night away. She noticed he was a little unsteady as he strode to the bathroom, the afternoon beers and the bottle of wine they'd had with dinner must be catching up to him. No matter, their room was less than a New York City block away. Let him get drunk if he wished. In fact, let him do anything he wished; they were on vacation! For his part, Will made his way to the toilet, admiring the costumes worn by female tourists. One young lady seemed to have forgotten to don a bra underneath the translucent blouse; her breasts jiggled slightly as she laughed at a joke. He ...

... wondered if other men were lusting after his wife as he was admiring theirs. When he returned to the table his wife was strangely absent -- perhaps she'd gone to the bathroom as well. He sat, watching the delectable nymphs swirling around him, admiring their wild moves as the band continued to play disco. Suddenly, the swirls of his wife's frock caught his eye. She was on the dance floor, her hands grabbing at her hem, lifting it above her knees and showing a hint of thigh. It was an effective move, one that seemed sexier than it truly was. The crowd shifted and he spied her partner, a middle aged man donned in loafers, tailored khakis, a flower patterned shirt of questionable style, thinning hair. The music slowed momentarily, then restarted with another number from the 80's. Terri caught his eye, began to wander back to the table to be with her husband. Will waved his arm at her, an unmistakable gesture that could only mean 'stay out there, have fun.' She accepted the gift, grabbed the hand of her fellow partier and returned to the convolutions. Will realized the other man was a much better dancer than he; other husbands might have been jealous, Will was simply glad his wife had found someone who could compliment her. When the band stopped to take their break, Terri returned to the table, her new playmate in tow. "Will, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, Will," she introduced. "Jonathan asked me to dance while you were gone. I didn't think you'd mind." "Of course not," he replied. ...