Monogamish - The Seven Year Hall Pass

In addition to the chance to get some sun on my tits for the first time in my life, and show off my wares as it were, the place also had jet skis, which I had always wanted to try, and full spa services. This was going to be an expensive Hall Pass, if not as ruinous as I had feared as I first started reading about the place.

Todd told me to go for it, the dear. A Sandals or Club Med would have been cheaper, and probably have done the trick, but this was my birthday after all.

The reviews, both on the big sites, as well as the smaller, personal blog and social posts that I had to dig for, clinched it for me.

*

The Tuesday before my birthday, my plane touched down on the island. Bumpily.

The sky was blue, with some big, puffy clouds, and I rode a shuttle to the resort with a couple from York. Carl and Hannah were almost ten years older than me, and both pretty attractive. I hoped that they were a good omen for how the general clientele looked.

I found Carl giving me the eye pretty comprehensively, which as always was flattering, but he was not what I was looking for. A married man was not off the table at all, but one with a very cuddlesome wife absolutely was. Especially since she was also giving me a good eye bath or two as well. I was here for something fresh and new, but not that fresh and new!

The staff did not go topless, which I thought a shame, as they were all pretty attractive at the least. Denis, the bellman who carried my small bag for me to my room, in particular looked like a living ebony statue.

Alone in my room, I took a deep breath. There was barely a half hour left before sundown, then I was booked at a communal table in the main dining room. I had the rest of this day, then two full days and nights before it was back to work, mommy-hood, and Todd.

I texted him, as I had done from the airport, that I had safely arrived. He sent my a heart emoji, asked me where he could find Mikey's lunch thermos, and then left me alone.

I did not have a view of the beach from my bottom-level room, but I wanted to go see it. I delved into my suitcase and grabbed out one of the bikinis I'd brought. I had the bottoms on in a heartbeat, and was about to slide into the top when I stopped. I bounced the top in my hand, and with a deep breath, decided that fuck it, I had chosen this resort because here this top was optional after all. I didn't bother with sunscreen because the sun was already so low, took a deep breath, and walked out my back door to the grassy path that led to the beach. My hands tried to bring the bikini top, just in case, but I made myself leave it behind.

It took passing the first three groups of people, two couples and a pair of indefinably German-looking guys my age, before I stopped panicking and wanting to cover my tits. It took a whole lot longer before I stopped feeling my nipples go out of control every time I met anyone...

I stood on the beach, right in the middle. It was not as crowded as the footprints indicated it had been earlier. But with such a magnificent westward view of the sinking sun, it was unsurprisingly still pretty busy. I got some looks. I gave some looks. There were some pretty attractive people here, in lots of different ways. Plenty of plain folk, too. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes plain could be plenty fun. I had ample memories to support that belief.

I felt the breeze on my boobs for the first time, and drank a large Strawberry Daiquiri a passing beach server gave me from her tray. I was sure lots of guys were disappointed at the resort's mandatory tops policy for staff, especially when it came to her.

No one approached me, and I drank in the sunset.

Then I went to dinner. I had overstayed on the beach until the sky went dark, and had no time to change. I just finally put on my bikini top and wrapped a light wrap around my hips. Time to interact.

I was assigned at a table for eight, and was immediately surprised. There was a couple there from the United States, as well as one from England. Then there were two blonde girls from Spain, and their French guy.

I was the only one at the table wearing a top. I introduced myself and sat down awkwardly. There were more men than women wearing shirts in the whole room.

The American wife, Ophelia, who was topless and honestly did not have the best of pairs, recognized my confusion first. "I'm sorry if you are embarrassed, Amy," she said openly. "We've been coming here for years," she said indicting the two couples, "and I for one just don't bring any shirts or tops anymore. This lot," she said, indicating the Spaniards, "jumped right in to the flow. But you don't need to very feel like you have to give Clark here a thrill. Everyone does as they like here."

Clark looked as if he would very much like a thrill.

"I... no," I said swiftly. "I just... I read on the website that the main dining room required tops. I came to dinner afraid I'd be turned back because I needed more than my bikini!"

"Does it still say that?" laughed the Englishwoman. "I know it used to be required, but no one ever followed the rule after their first night, if then. The resort eventually gave it up as a bad idea in the first place. I would have thought they'd have changed the website by now."

"They have," the French guy said. "I read it myself when we were booking."

"I'll bet you did," one of his girls said. Her accent was stronger than his.

"The French," the Englishman said with a collegial glare at our table companion. "English is always so relentlessly second class for them, they apparently don't even bother to keep up with the translation."

"C'est vrais, my friend," Frenchie sighed back elaborately. "But not all Roast Boefs are second class, nest pas?" He favored the Englishman's wife with a long gaze. She did not have a sub-par set. The Englishman tolerantly smiled.

"Well, fuck it," I grumbled to myself, and unhooked the back of my top. I lifted it free and hung it over the back of my chair. And that is how I ate my first meal among strangers with my tits out. My nipples were hard only half the time.

The wine at dinner flowed freely. It was an all-inclusive resort, remember? I drank too much, especially with that huge, strong Daiquiri earlier. The three young... whatever they were to each other, invited me along with them to the disco. I told them perhaps the next night, but that I was feeling like I'd drank too much and needed to head to my room, still tired from just arriving.

We all went our separate ways. I had seriously debating going along to the disco, but I was here for a singleton guy, not for a party. And I was a little drunk. Have to be careful, remember? Too bad the French guy already had two girls.

I was not quite staggering back to my room when said French guy caught up with me from behind. "Aimee," he called out when he was close. "You forgot this!"

I turned to see him holding my bikini top. Yikes! I had sure gotten used to being topless quickly!

I turned, and found myself stepping back toward him. I reached out and grabbed my bikini and his hand that held it, pulling both toward me. I smiled as I brushed the back of his hand across my tit before extracting my bikini for his grasp. He was slow to withdraw his hand. Saucy bastard.

We shared a flirty smile, and I went into my room.

Fuck, I was horny. I was also sleepy. I barely brushed my teeth and wiped off my makeup before I fell into bed.

I roused for a moment to text.

ME: Heading to sleep. Alone tonight

I was out almost before I set the phone down.

*

I had, before I drank too much, gotten a lot of good information from my more experienced table mates about how the day usually went at Club Liberté. A lot of people took day excursions off the property, just like it was a cruise ship. They were all gone by ten, so virtually anyone around after that was there all day.

Given that, I had a late breakfast in the beach cafe with my top on, which I quickly learned marked me as an American. I resolved this would be my last time wearing it until I went home. I liked the looks I got with it off.

Interestingly, I found I might have actually gotten more interested glances with it on. Not that my girls needed the support to look good, but it was like I was hiding something and that made guys want to see it even more. And my tits looked killer in the bikini too...

About ten, I wandered over to the pool. I had considered the beach, but I thought I liked the looks of the drinks they were serving poolside over the ones that they offered on the beach.

About half the sun loungers had towels already on them, keeping them reserved. I had been told last night that this was The Germans. The English, Spanish, and French had all been in perfect agreement about The Germans. Relentless territorial expansion may have been mentioned. The Daily Towelkreig, Frenchie had called it.

Fortunately, there were not enough Germans or other early birds at the club to take all the loungers, and I found one unoccupied, with the seats around it similarly unclaimed. I settled down on one for some sun. I hardly even hesitated this time before doffing my top. And you can be damned sure that I slathered on a huge amount of the highest SPF I could buy back before coming on the trip. I also set an alarm to remind me to reapply at hourly intervals. Burnt tits might ruin the plan, and would definitely ruin the fun.

The pool area began getting more busy pretty quickly, but never got more than half full.

I was busy with my first re-application of sunscreen, and yes, I was making a show of rubbing it into my boobs. A group of interesting-looking guys were looking on interestedly from across the pool. Interesting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observed a tall man, with what seemed like it was an unaccustomedly slumped posture, walking out onto the pool deck alone, with a towel around his neck. He was really pretty damned good looking, especially if you don't mind full Tom Selleck chest hair.

I do not mind, though I always have fun shaving Todd's chest. He always has fun reciprocating, just not my chest.

I saw the moment the man saw me, then observed as he helplessly turned from his original path and headed my way. He chose the one empty seat between me and a sea of Germanic towel aggression. There were ten empty loungers on the other side of me, but he chose the one that gave him an excuse to sit right next to me.

Was it going to be this easy? I looked up and got a really good look at him. I hoped it would be this easy. He was perfect. Not nearly in Todd's league, but still quite handsome. That was why he was perfect. I estimated he was in his late thirties, so at most ten years older than me. And he was alone.

He was wearing a wedding ring, but what that meant precisely was yet to be seen--like me, he was alone. I was also wearing my ring, after all. And he had made an apparently unconscious beeline right for me.

"Hullo," he said. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Well, it had better be. We get a refund if it isn't, right?" I joked.

"I've never had a day down here this time of year where it rains," he shrugged, arranging his towel.

"So you come here often?" I asked.

"Every year," he sighed, not sounding as enthused as I would have expected over what I was beginning to think was fucking paradise.

"Getting jaded?" I asked. He shrugged.

We sat side by side, but apart, for a bit. I tried to look open to conversation. He tried not to look distracted.

"I'm thirsty," he said suddenly. "Since we are sitting so close, can I grab one for you while I'm at it?"

"Thank you. One of the white ones, please."

I had made a discrete enquiry upon waking, and the white ones, whatever they were, were the lowest in alcohol by far. How had marriage made me such a lightweight? Todd and I needed to go out and get blitzed occasionally. Lesson One from this Hall Pass.

He ambled over to the bar and returned with a white one for me and a glass of brown liquor on the rocks for himself. He handed me mine gallantly, and plopped down, taking far too heavy a gulp of his for this early in the day.

"I'm Amy, by the way," I said. "How did you know to address me in English?"

He snorted. "I'm Paul. And I am English, and we require the rest of the world to know our language. But also... er..." he trailed off.

"Also?" I prompted, sensing he was suddenly embarrassed and thinking that a little tease might move things along to wherever they were or were not going to end up.

"Well, I knew you had to be an American, or a fellow Brit as a distinctly less likely alternative. There... um, is not a continental woman at this resort with tan lines," he said, blushing a little.

"Oh? You noticed mine?" I asked innocently.

I had developed a pretty good tan over the Summer. It was hard not to perceive my tan lines. The contrast was intense.

"Well, um," he did not answer, and opened his book in embarrassment.

"You are not stuck here on your own like I am?" I asked casually.

"What? Oh. No. My wife and I come every year. Usually a friend or two as well."

"Allergic to the sun, are they?" I asked.

"Ha! Hardly. My wife and our friend David headed off for an all day excursion this morning. They are actually doing a little birding on their own. She knows I get instantly bored if I go, so she always looks forward to taking him. Every year."

Nothing about what he had just said rang remotely true. It rang like everyone involved might say it was true, but...

"I'm sorry," was all I said.

"Why?" he asked evasively. "And where is your husband?" he added, nodding at my hand, which I was making no move to hide.

"Back home in the States," I laughed easily. "In his office. He will be either working, or talking fantasy football."

"You came by yourself?"

I just shrugged. Let him fill in whatever blanks as suited him.

He sighed.

I pretended to examine my tan lines, using my fingertips as I did. "I don't suppose they will go away," I said absently. "I'm only here for a couple of days."

"Be a shame if they did," he snorted.

"Oh, you like tan lines?" I challenged.

He looked a little caught. "Erm... yes, I suppose. They sort of give a lad the idea that he is getting away with seeing something that he shouldn't."

"Here?" I scoffed. I looked around. "A lad can hardly see anything but nipples at this place."

He shrugged and almost giggled, but it died aborning. "Yeah. It is one of the compensations for coming here."

How often do your wife and friend go birding?" I asked quietly.

"It's not a regular thing," he hastened to reassure me. "Just..."

"Just every time you come here," I finished for him.

"Every year," he said grimly.

"Ever do anything about it?" I asked. "Call her out?" I sat up straighter and turned on my side toward him.

"They are convinced that they are discrete," he said, not hiding much anymore.

"So, how about... do you do any bird watching of your own?"

"I am right now," he snorted, looking at me fully for once.

"You are taking me too literally," I said, leaning over toward him.

"Not often," he sighed. "I usually just wait for it to be done."

I knew exactly what he was saying, but I did not understand him. That was okay. I was not in it to understand him, or anyone besides Todd and myself.

"But you do sometimes do some bird-watching of your own when they are off?" I insisted, still keeping my tits pointed toward him.

"What about your husband? Does he bird-watch?" Paul asked warily.

"We both travel for work," I said, tight-lipped, not answering. The idea of Todd cheating while he was on the road was ludicrous. And even were he so inclined, he would be far too busy having FaceTime sex with me to nail some stranger.

"Do you ever indulge in a bit of bird-watching?" Paul asked, now leaning forward. I began to see flashes of good humor. Of charm. Of non-academic interest.

"I've become more comfortable with the notion recently," I just said.

He smiled for the first time since we had met. He lifted his glass, and I lifted mine.

"My room does not have a beach view," I observed. "Just a lot of bushes and shrubs. There are probably a lot of birds to see out my window."

Paul rose and extended his hand. I let him help me up. "We'll leave our towels here to hold off the Germans," he said.

And thus, I was walking through the resort grounds, topless, holding the hand of a complete stranger. I had suggested my room instead of his, because I had not thought I would need any condoms quite so soon. Had I brought a supply with me in my beach bag, I would have far rather let Paul nail me in his cheating wife's bed.

I snorted quietly to myself as we walked. I had not gone straight from meeting a guy to getting busy with him since... I could not even remember the guy's name now. It had been at a party early junior year. Todd and I were dating by then, but not exclusively. I had been lightly drunk, whatsisname was slightly drunker. Todd had been back on his own campus, and Edgar, the other guy I was most recently hooking up with, had not been in evidence. It had been an early, quiet wakeup call, one of several I was beginning to receive, that while sex with a hot guy was great, sex with the right guy was so much more fulfilling.

Here I was back with a random hot guy for the first time in forever. For a reason other than fulfillment.

I had high hopes it would be pretty fulfilling anyway, if transiently so.

I keyed open my door. Thankfully, the efficient maid service had already come and gone, so that was one less worry. I ushered Paul inside in a friendly manner, and let the door close behind us.

I stepped up behind him as he stood a little uncertainly, looking out the window. I stepped so close, in fact, that I let my very interested nipples just barely brush his bare back. "You say you like my tan lines?" I whispered. "I think I need to you take a closer look to make sure."

Paul tried not to spin around too quickly. I threw back my shoulders and smiled happily. He looked me in the eyes for three full seconds, probably just to prove to me that he could, before he looked down at my boobs. He bent down, almost hypnotized, staring at my erect pink nipples in their triangles of pale skin. I gently wrapped my hands around his head and pulls his lips to one of my peaks.

He kissed it gently... for about two seconds. Then his hands were cupping both my tits and he was hungrily devouring me. His lips sucked hungrily as me and his tongue flicked at my hard nipple.

I certify did not need to hold his head against me now, so I dropped my hands to the waist of his swim trunks. I fumbled at the drawstring, and it slipped easily free. I tugged at the front of the waistband and shoved them down.

Moment of truth. I reached for his member...

Not bad. Not spectacular, but plenty robust, and plenty hard. It wasn't terribly long, but length is just an added garnish to thickness and hardness. I squeezed him gently and he moaned. I let him feast while I explored the contours of his cock with my fingers.

But not for long. I pulled away from his marvelous attentions and turned him back so he was once more facing the windows. "Watch the birds, Paul," I said, and knelt.

He tasted... It took me a second to realize that whatever his wife and his friend were off doing right now, Paul had fucked her recently, the last night at the earliest, and more probably this very morning, and he not showered since he had this lovely cock in her. The guy had depths.

So this was new. I had never actually tasted another woman's twat on a cock I was sucking. It was not a new experience I intended to bring back to our bed at home. But it wasn't bad either. He had to have fucked her this morning before she left, because he wasn't remotely dirty, or funky, or gross. He just tasted like strange twat.