Glen Ivy Hot Springs Pt. 01

I'm spending the day at Glen Ivy Hot Springs, relaxing. I normally go with girlfriends, but not always. I've come here alone a few times and it's glorious to not worry about anyone else's schedule or needs.

There are many women here, all ages, all shapes and sizes. I'm comfortable in my one piece, even though I can no longer "rock the bikini," the way I once did. My suit is black and strapless, with ruched material in front, which is kinder to the softness that remains after two pregnancies.

There are also a few men at Glen Ivy, albeit not as many as women. Mostly married couples, a few gay men sometimes... But there are a few older men who come here alone for the therapeutic waters.

My routine is as follows: arrive, unpack in the locker rooms, change clothes and head out to the "Vista" pool, an oblong hot tub (about 12 feet long and narrow) facing out over the valley. I come here first because this is the moment when I really feel like I've gotten away from the stresses of work, home, kids...

I lean back against the jets and feel the warm water bubble around me. It's very early, so there still aren't many people in the various pools. I wish I'd bought a Mimosa or a Bloody Mary or a Tequila Sunrise, even though it's before 10 am, but no matter. There's time. A few people begin to filter up onto the various decks. Some young women enjoying a bridesmaids' party, then an older couple arrives, sliding into the water.

Then I see you. Inside my tummy, butterflies begin to beat their wings, fast.

You stroll up to the pool, completely nonchalant, slip off flip flops and walk down the steps. You find an open spot on the bench, a few feet away from me. With a sigh you submerge and immediately come up, shaking off water, and you extend both arms out along the rim of the pool. Our eyes meet and you give me a nod and a greeting, like I was any other perfect stranger. I blush and look away, my heart pounding.

He's here, I'm thinking... Omg hope did he get here?

Trying to maintain my "game face," I join in with the casual conversations around me. I mentally go through my checklist of what I do next at the resort, and wonder whether I should tell you, so it doesn't feel like I am constantly running away from you. Then my dilemma is instantly solved.

"This is my first time here," you comment to the pool in general. "Any suggestions for how I should spend my day?"

Several people remark about this or that service, the order in which they do the mud and mineral baths (FIRST mineral bath, THEN mud...) other features of Glen Ivy. You listen politely, making appreciative noises. Then I put in, "After this soak, I have a specific ritual here... You'll probably develop your own. But next I'll go to the lap pool to swim laps, 20-30 at least, before getting into the mineral tubs ... Followed by the red clay mud (then a shower). After that I float in the shallow upper deck pool and tan for awhile. My appointment in the Grotto is at noon, and that process takes about an hour... By then I'm ready for lunch. After lunch I'll nap in a lounge chair up on the "quiet" deck, slipping in and out of the hot waters there... Finally I take a sauna and clean up to go home...

Wow, that was probably more than you needed to know, right?" I finish, smiling at you with a twinkle in my eye.

The others listening remark that I must have been here a hundred times to work out a regimen so specific. I say, no only a couple dozen times... And we all laugh. I stand to get up and you casually follow me out of the pool.

Out of earshot of the others now, you ask, "Is my being here going to disrupt your day?"

"Absolutely not! I'm so excited you're here... This is going to be wonderful!" Selecting towels from the stacks nearby, I hand you one and wrap one around me. "Do you want to swim laps with me?"

"Definitely," you reply, slipping your flip flops on again.

"I'm really so glad you're here. There are a few things I've never been able to try, but now I can," I add, mysteriously.

We swim our laps, chasing one another like dolphins playing in the ocean. You show off your expert strokes and perfect swimmer's flip at the end of each lap. We finish, and as we approach the mineral baths, one of the private tubs becomes available. (There's one large pool flanked by 2 private tubs on either side, tubs that really are only designed for two people.)

Commenting on our perfect timing, we slip into the water. Sitting across from and facing each other, our knees touching, we hold hands for the first time, our fingers entwined over our knees. "I'm so glad you came," I say.

"Me too," you say as you pull me closer and our lips meet in a tentative first kiss. Soft, delicious lips and just a taste of tongue, we keep it publicly appropriate. Our hands are trapped together, no roaming allowed yet.

"What's next?" you ask, when I pull back, a little flustered from the kiss.

"Well, THIS opens our pores, so the next thing we do is the red clay mud. We rub a thin layer all over our exposed skin (avoid your face!), sit and let it dry for about 20 minutes, then shower and scrub it off." I notice your piqued expression, and I quickly add, "Swimsuits stay on, the showers are public... And we have to help each other to get good coverage in the beginning and to get it off properly at the end. That WILL be fun, but we have to be good... Everything is public." Every so often a European visits Glen Ivy and they strip to get the red clay off, but I don't share this with you as I figure it will give you ideas.

That's where we go next, and it is a unique thrill, to play in the mud together, smearing each other with the smooth red clay, laughing at the Pygmy-effect it has on us. We can't resist painting Indian war-paint marks on our cheeks and under our eyes, but we pay special attention to the areas on our backs that we can't reach, and the backs of our legs, sliding fingers under each other's suits surreptitiously. This is not the first time the Glen Ivy mud area has been used as foreplay, and it won't be the last. When we are fairly covered in mud, we select two lounge chairs to lay back on and allow the sun to dry us. While we wait, we talk in quiet tones, idle chit chat about our week, plans we have, and stories we've been reading. Soon we notice that the mud is dry and caked, and when we smile or talk huge wrinkles appeared where it cracks. "Ugh! THIS will feel great, now!" I promise, leading you to the showers. The showers are recessed in surrounding walls that look like rock. A couple of the recesses are big rooms with 5-6 shower heads, but a few are singles or doubles. We find a single available and take turns under the heavy spray, assisting one another with sloughing the mud off. There are soap dispensers at every shower, and a long handled natural bristle brush for exfoliating.

"Sunscreen will be really important after this," I say, "because the top layer of skin has been removed."

We take our time to be sure that every trace of red clay has been washed away. Your fingers slide in and up and around my bathing suit, brushing against my more tender areas in a tantalizing and teasing way. I find mud behind your ears and in your eye brows and carefully smooth and wipe it all away. No matter how careful we are, we are sure to find more red mud later on, but we do the best we can, enjoying fondly each other under the water spray... Perfectly acceptable practice since everyone else is doing it too, to one extent or another.

"This is the reason to always come with a friend," I mention. "It is really hard to get all the mud on and off properly."

"Oh, I plan to 'get you off properly'," you murmur in my ear, and the butterflies in my belly take flight again.

Finally done with the shower, we grab two fresh towels and dry off as much as possible. I reach for my pool bag and bring out sunscreen SPF 45, and proceed to slather it all over your back and chest and arms, not forgetting your neck and ears. I squirt a small amount in your hand and tell you. "Face." And then begin applying to myself, the areas I can reach. You assist with my back and legs, your touch burning a trail of fire and desire all up and down my legs and my spine. I'm trembling with excitement, but I know anticipation and patience bring awesome rewards.

I take your hand and lead you out of "Club Mud" and up the path, through the beautiful foliage and flowering birds of paradise to the upper level of the resort. There's a waterfall and palm trees in this canyon, and it feels a million miles away from the L.A. basin with the freeway tangle ups and crime and noise. This is a paradise, quiet and soothing, as if we are on an island in the Caribbean. There is a large shallow pool on this level, and dozens of blue plastic float mattresses hang on a rack nearby. We grab two and step into the water, stretching out on our bellies and floating head to head. The pool is shallow enough that we can anchor ourselves with just one foot hanging off the mattress, or touching the bottom of the pool with our hands. We continue to chat quietly together, flattering one another and flirting, nuances and double entendres flowing like the gushing waterfall. It's a good thing we are face down because your erection has been teased all morning so far, and lying face down in a cool pool makes it easier to hide your excitement. As we get warm we slip off into the water and slide back up onto the mattresses, flipping over to our backs. We hold hands and link our feet to keep from drifting apart and we nap a little in the refreshing breeze, listening only to the birdsong and waterfall.

Suddenly conscious of rumbling stomachs, we check the time. It is noon.

"You have to come with me to the Grotto... It is delightful and we'll get apples and tea down there," I say.

"I'm hungrier than that..." you protest, but I cut you off with a kiss.

"Trust me... You'll love it, and the apple will help. After the Grotto we'll get a good lunch."

We stand up and splash carefully out of the pool and hang up our mattresses. Grabbing two fresh towels (I love that they are stacked practically EVERYWHERE here), we wrap up and head toward the locker rooms. Before we get to the doors, I point you off toward the left and we enter a small room to check in, then take an elevator down to the lower levels, feeling ever more like we are in a cave in the middle of the earth. All the walls are made of faux rock, and the effect is cooling and mysterious. The recessed lighting creates dim shadows which give an illusion of privacy.

Here at a counter we turn over all our extra possessions, my glasses, your flip flops, and drop off the used towels. We go forth with nothing but our swimsuits. Being completely blind without my glasses, this is very disorienting for me, but I have you to guide me. "I keep forgetting that I need to wear contacts at Glen Ivy," I say, holding your hand and standing as close next to and behind you as I can, clutching your arm.

"What happens here?" you ask, but there's no time to explain.

"You'll see... It's great."

We are guided to a small recess in the rock wall and told to face the wall with our hands on the wall overhead and our legs spread. (Think of the position you would be in for a police search.)

Two team members use a soft house painter's brush to apply a thick creamy layer of warm mousse-y "green mud" to our legs, back and arms. It is the most erotic feeling, being brushed up with this warm cream. They give instructions to massage it in (it will never absorb or dry) and not to apply it to our faces, but to watch the clock and rinse in about 15 minutes. We are directed through a narrow tunnel to an interior room, dimly lit, with rock benches lining the walls. In the center is a table with a huge glass cooler of iced water with fruit floating inside. Today it is green apple slices, but I have seen strawberries and even cantaloupe before. It infuses the water with the slightest flavor. We pour ourselves plastic cups of water and sit along the sides, barely able to see one another or the other patrons in the dim light. You sit right next to me, closely, and whisper, "How sexy is this? No one can see me do...this." And you slide your hand up my mud covered thigh and slip easily under my swimsuit, finding my snatch immediately. I gasp and move closer, opening my legs a little for you.

"I told you you'd like it," I murmur in your ear, purring as you plunder my pussy, slowly at first and then inserting two fingers to feel my hot wet hole. Your other hand caresses my shoulders, massaging in the green mud as we were told to do. I place one knee sideways on the bench, turning more towards you and stroke your chest and belly, likewise massaging in the nutrient rich mud. My back is to the room, for all anyone looking would see, we are just two lovers engrossed in conversation. This day's foreplay has gone on long enough, but our opportunity for completion isn't here yet. "Keep your eye on the clock, Dan, because I'm getting really hungry..." With that remark I reach down into your board shorts and smoothly stroke your turgid length, the creamy green mud acting as the perfect lubricant. I stroke you and feel your cock twitch in my hand. "Really. Very. Hungry."

You glance up and see that almost 15 minutes has indeed passed, so I extricate my hand from your shorts and your hand from my pussy, and we stand to enter the next room, the shower area. Since the green mud tends to get everywhere, they've installed curtains over the showers so people can remove swimsuits in order to thoroughly rinse both body and suit before redressing and exiting the shower. We find one that will accommodate us both and we enter, closing the curtain behind us. There are people here too, but not very many, and with the piped in music (soft African jungly music) and echoing walls of the cave interior, plus the sounds of water pouring, no one can hear anything. The lighting in the main room is a bit brighter but here in the shower with the curtain closed we are still enshrouded in shadows.

You draw me into your arms and we share a long deep kiss, full of desire and promise. The mud still slips between our chests and legs as the smoothest lubricant. It is a clean, fresh smelling "mud," very moisturizing, but very thick, so it takes a lot of stroking and rubbing under the shower water to remove it. You pull my swimsuit down until it bunches up at my waist, revealing my soft B-cup breasts and take my nipples between your fingers, tweaking and rolling them gently. I moan and kiss you harder, our tongues entwined as we plunder, desperately needing more more more...

We stroke, touch and fondle one another, cleansing ourselves of the mud. Here too there are dispensers with herb-y smelling cleanser, and we start to really smell like we've been to a spa. The scents are wonderfully aromatic without being overpowering, and they are therapeutically chosen for the relaxation they inspire. However relaxed we feel emotionally and mentally, physically we are both as tightly wound as springs, and we both know there will be only one remedy-abandoning ourselves to our lusts and engaging fully in the passion that has percolated beneath the surface ever since you appeared at the Vista pool almost three hours prior. As the water cascades over my hair, neck, shoulders and breasts, you follow with your mouth, licking and nibbling each area as it is cleansed of the green mousse. My hands loosen the string that holds your shorts up and I slide my hands around to grasp your ass cheeks, squeezing them tightly. Then they wander around to the front and stroke your manhood, hard and smooth. Your shorts slip further and fall down to your feet, where you step out of them.

I slip down to my knees, taking your cock in my mouth as the water continues to cascade down my hair and chest and back. My hands slide along your legs, cleaning them of the mud as I massage your thighs and calves while taking your cock balls-deep in my mouth. You taste so good, filling my mouth and pressing against the back of my throat. I relax and push harder and the head of your cock slips deeper, blocking my airway. I hold you here for a long moment, working my tongue and lips at the base of your cock. When I absolutely need air I pull off with a soft 'pop' and look up at you. Your face has a look of such extreme astonishment, and tender affection for me, it makes me blush. I swallow your cock again, this time maintaining eye contact as I stroke in and out along your rigid prick. I hold your ass hard with my hands, hopefully conveying to you that today is long from being over and I want you to go ahead and cum for me, blast me with your seed, and finally have the release you've been missing for so long.

Apparently the message was conveyed, since you grasp my head with your hands holding me tightly to you, and throwing your head back and groaning with a shudder and a shake you explode in my mouth.