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Which Proves That The Problems With Loving Two Women At Once Are Greater When They're Both In The Same Body
The last powerboat from the hotel had gone back at four-thirty, but it was almost six before the private yacht of snorkelers took off and the man and woman were able to sneak out from under the broad fronds of heliconia to spread their large beach towel on the empty beach.
The tall slim blonde with the full breasts straining the yellow string bikini looked to be in her late twenties, but she was giggling like a schoolgirl as she straightened the towel.
"I feel like a schoolkid who's going to do something very bad," she said.
"Oh, I hope you do." The prematurely white-haired giant of a man smiled down at her.
"What? Feel like a schoolkid?"
"No, do something very bad."
"I have every intention." She smiled up at his face that was almost seven feet from the sand. "Sit down, won't you? Or lie, if you prefer."
He sat and she squirmed up beside him and they watched the sun go down, temporarily turning the azure lagoon to scarlet before the Caribbean night descended like a curtain.
"There really is no dusk, is there, Pen?" the girl in the yellow string bikini asked, stretching out now on the large beach towel.
Her companion leaned over her and his fingers began fiddling with the clasp that held the cups of her bikini top together.
"Nope. Good thing we've got the moon." He glanced at the waxing three-quarter moon that hung at nine o'clock over the lagoon and was gliding its way slowly toward them across the calm water.
"Yeah." The girl sighed. "Romantic… moon onwater… what a view, eh?"
"View be damned. I need it to undo this."
"Let me give you a hand with it." Her slender fingers rose to her breasts. "You're in a rush tonight, aren't you, Pen?"
The man's hands grasped hers gently, holding them between her breasts.
"Actually," he said softly, "we need to talk before we start…"
"What about? I know we're just married and all that and married people are supposed to not rush into sex any more. But it is a marriage, not the last rites. So I'm just as horny as I ever was. And I can't wait to get to the screaming and hollering part either. So let's get at it."
"Actually, Vicki, it's the screaming and hollering part I want to talk to you about."
"Why? Why now of all times and places? We're all alone on this little island…only the birds will hear my rapturous screeching."
"It might spook them and this is a Venezuelan wildlife sanctuary."
"Piffle! They might enjoy a good screech. This place is just so right for some fooling around. I bet they get lots of screeches. Caramba! Olé! This'll just be their first touch with hoot'n hollered orgasms in English."
"You did see that sign at the end of the beach?"
"The one you told me said 'No bathers beyond this point,' or something like that?"
"Actually, it didn't say quite that."
"Then what did it say?"
"Esta isla es una zona restrictiva. Prohibito pasar la noche aquí. Revista par los costa guardas frecuentemente."
"According to my rough knowledge of the language: 'This island is a restricted zone. It is prohibited to spend the night here. Inspected frequently by the coast guards.'"
"We shouldn't even be here?" Vicki said incredulously. "We better get off."
"We can't. Well, not that way, anyway. Besides, it is, as you say, so right for another kind of getting off. If we're quiet about it. If we're not and we spook the birds, the coast guard will be out here before we get our pants on."
Copyright © 2007 T.K. Sheils.