I sat on the hotel restaurant terrace, enjoying the splendid view of the atoll. Twelve hours earlier, I’d left home, and now I was in paradise — a small Polynesian island well off the beaten path. A while back, you graciously printed the story of my affair with two beautiful ladies, and I have had several other wonderful bisexual experiences since then.

Marianne, a beautiful Polynesian, and I were the only ones in the restaurant. She wore the traditional pareo, a sort of sarong, and her lovely body attracted my admiration. I asked about a shell-collecting snorkeling trip being advertised, and Marianne said she’d be my guide, as she did different jobs at the small hotel.

Two hours later, we were anchored near the reef. A young French couple and I were the only tourists. The couple swam away from the boat with the handsome native guide. On leaving the dock, the lovely French girl had slipped off her top; Marianne and I followed suit.

The warm breeze felt so wonderful. I really wanted to shed my bottom too! We donned fins, masks and snorkels and swam over to the reef. All of a sudden I felt Marianne’s hand on my hip, and then my bikini bottom was gone. I looked around and saw that she was stuffing my bottoms, along with hers, in her shelling net. The water felt so sensuous caressing my naked body.

Marianne showed me how to find shells under the sand and cowries under the coral fans while we watched out for morays. She was a water nymph, able to hold her breath for inordinately long periods of time. Shed swim between my spread legs, her long brown hair streaming, her slick skin lightly brushing my pussy lips. I swam behind her, glimpsing her lovely pussy as her legs scissored. When we had all the shells we wanted, we swam back to the boat. We could see three figures under a palm tree far up the beach.

We toweled ourselves dry and then sat cross-legged on the soft mat floor. Marianne smiled and softly kissed me, her tongue flicking across my lips. I reached out and cupped one of her pert breasts, squeezing it gently.

“I saw the way you watched me,” she said. “You like women too?” I nodded. She looked toward the shore. “Oh! The others are returning. Tonight, leave your back door unlatched; I will come. We will, as you say, come together.” She reached down, slipped a finger deftly between my pussy lips, stroked upward past my clitoris and then licked her slick finger. We slipped into our bikinis, and moments later the French couple and the native guide climbed aboard.

The young guide said something in Polynesian, and he and Marianne laughed. I asked her what he’d said. “They’re cannibals! They tried to eat me alive,” she translated. We burst out laughing.

I went to the village and bought French bread and fresh tropical fruit and learned that Marianne had told all her cousins that if I wasn’t treated well, they’d have to answer to her. I was steered to the best buys. I also bought several colorful pareos and bars of the totally delicious coconut-oil soap.

It was dark when I heard the back door of the bungalow open and then felt Marianne slip naked into my bed, the scent of a frangipani flower in her hair sweeter than any perfume. She kissed me softly, her firm little breasts hot against mine. She wiggled her legs between my thighs, and I spread them wide for her. Sensually she pressed down, her mound burrowing into my spread sex, rubbing her wet flesh against mine. In no time she brought me to a gasping climax.

We made long, slow love to each other. Her body tasted and smelled of the fragrant coconut-oil soap, a smell I still associate with her. She was an expert lover, kissing and licking all my sensitive spots, while I returned her caresses and kisses. Time and again we came together in a sixty-nine, until we were spent. The ceiling fan whirred softly as I drifted off to sleep, my arm around Marianne. When I awoke, she was gone.

I saw her the next day and told her how wonderful our night together had been. She smiled and gave me a quick kiss, saying that she’d be back that night with a surprise. My panties were wet all day.

True to her word, she slipped quietly into my bed that night, and in the dim light I saw another figure slip into bed with us, with me in the middle. Marianne’s soft body pressed close on one side, a hard male body on the other.

“My boyfriend, he’s a very good lover,” she whispered in my ear. “He asked to come. I will send him away if you do not want him with us.” She was so dear, I didn’t have the heart. I pulled him to me and kissed him, my hand finding his swollen cock. My two lovers showered my body with kisses and caresses until I was moaning with need. Marianne straddled my body and began to lap at my pussy.

After a while she guided her boyfriend’s hard cock inside my liquid core. Slowly, in unison, the two made love to me. Her tongue nibbled at my clit as he thrust in and out. His hips rotated so that his rigid tool caressed every inch of my pussy. I had his cock deep inside me and her lips and tongue lapping at my aching clit. It was the best of both worlds.

His hands moved between us to caress first my breasts, then Marianne’s. He came with a long moan and a deep thrust, gushing deep inside me. When his cock grew soft and slipped out, Marianne’s tongue immediately covered my slit, scooping up the mixture of his juices and mine. Her tongue drove me over the edge, and I climaxed as her boyfriend watched. Then they kissed me and slipped out of my bungalow.

Every night, Marianne visited me, sometimes alone, sometimes with her boyfriend, or a girlfriend. When it was time for me to leave, she saw me off at the airport, tears in her eyes. I promised to return soon. And I shall return — to paradise.