For our twentieth wedding anniversary, my wife, Candice, and I decided to do something special — a second honeymoon, so to speak. But where to go? We spent weeks pouring over brochures and guidebooks, searching for  the perfect place to celebrate two decades of a wonderful romance. But even though out anniversary was fast approaching, we hadn’t decided on a destination.

Then a co-worker of mine suggested Spain “It’s the new hot spot in Europe,” he said “It offers everything: great tourist attractions, museums, fantastic food and spectacular beaches.” He warned us away from the Costa del Sol, which he described as a tourist mecca. “If you want a more remote beach, then I suggest the Balearic Islands — Majorca or Ibiza.” Then he added with a wink, “They have plenty of topless beaches.”

Topless beaches? That made me stop and think. I would have been happy to go to one, but I didn’t think it would appeal to Candice. Not that she has no business being on one — at forty-four, she’s still a knockout and has to deal with come-ons from younger men all the time — but would she want to flaunt her beauty on a topless beach?

Nevertheless, Candice and I researched Spain and decided it would be a great place to visit. We booked a two-week vacation for late August and set off full of high hopes for love and adventure.

The first ten days were spent on a whirlwind tour of the country. We started in Madrid, visited the Alhambra, toured the Basque region and hiked through the Pyrenees, feeling like characters out of For Whom the Bell Tolls. It wasn’t until the last few days of our trip, when we took a short flight to Ibiza, in the Mediterranean, that the sexual skyrockets began.

The weather was hot, searingly hot. And it wasn’t long before Candice and I were overheated in a different way. The first morning in Ibiza, Candice put on a new swimsuit bought especially for the trip — a daring bikini. She hadn’t worn a bikini for many years, so I was a little surprised. “Why, don’t you think I look good in one?” she asked me.

“You look fantastic,” I gushed. And she did. After twenty years of marriage and two children, her stomach was as flat as a teenager’s. And time had not been unkind to her breasts. While they were not as firm as they once had been, they were still round and luscious. While at the office I frequently daydreamed about taking them in my mouth and sucking contentedly.

As Candice stood before me in her new bathing suit, I got hard, my erection poking through the fly of my boxer shorts. Candice smiled, stepped up to me and took my member in her hands. “It’s only nine o’clock in the morning,” she whispered into my ear. “If I take care of this now, are you still going to be able to perform later on today?”

I assured her I would.

“Good, because I have the feeling I’m going to want to fuck all day long and into the night.”

That did it. I grabbed her, and we fell onto the bed. My shorts flew off into a corner of the room, and she took me in her mouth. I maneuvered myself around so I could pull aside the fabric of her suit and sink my tongue into her moist cunt. We ate each other passionately for several minutes, and then Candice whirled around and sat on my erection, taking me deep inside her. She rode me vigorously while I fondled her tits, breathing hard. We both came moments later.

After we recovered from this spirited lovemaking, we went to the beach. I had warned Candice that it was clothing-optional, and she had assured me that it wouldn’t bother her. She had never been to one before, she said, and she wanted to see what it was like. She also said it was doubtful that she herself would take her top off.

Stepping onto the beach was like entering a Hieronymus Bosch painting. Scads of bronzed, well-muscled men accompanied equally tanned, equally well-built women, their breasts fully exposed to the sun and to wandering eyes. My old cock once again grew stiff, and Candice and I found a spot to spread our blanket so that I could hide my excitement. I couldn’t believe how beautiful the people were.

While I was comparing the acres of naked breasts before me, Candice was checking out the men. She’s

never been one to openly stare at a good-looking man, but she did her fair share of ogling that day. Blonde and fair-skinned, Candice stood out against the darker-skinned Mediterranean women, so many men turned their heads to drink her in. More than one of these young fellows strolled by and gave her a cheery hello. Can- dice was thrilled with the attention.

After a while I grew more accustomed to the hedonistic atmosphere of the beach, and my erection sub- sided enough so that I could take a walk. I told Candice I was going to see some of the sights. She told me to enjoy myself as she looked longingly at a swarthy, muscle-bound man picking up his topless girlfriend, throwing her over his shoulder and dashing into the surf.

I returned about thirty minutes later, fully confident that I had seen the most beautiful women of all types. Spanish, Greek, Italian, French, Moroccan — you name it. But though these women were highly desirable and a few even smiled at me flirtatiously, all I could think about was Candice and how I was going to make love to her all through the night.

When I returned to Candice, she asked me to rub some suntan lotion onto her back. I obliged her, then got a shock when she said, “I think I’m going to take my top off. Would you object?”

I didn’t know what to think. But then I realized that I wanted her to do it. I wanted Candice to show that she was just as beautiful as any other woman on the beach. I told her as much.

My wife sat up and had me untie the string around her back. The string came loose and she clutched the bikini top to her chest, summoning her courage. Slowly she lowered it, and her breasts were exposed to my view. Still, her back was hunched over and her arms were crossed in front of her. I sensed that she was going to change her mind.

“Candice,” I said to her soothingly. “You are the most beautiful woman on this beach. You make those other girls look like plain Janes.”

She smiled at me and sat up straight, proud of her body. And then we both started laughing at our insecurity. After all, she was not the only topless woman on the beach, and nobody cared that this conservative American woman had bared her breasts for all to see.

Candice hopped to her feet and. said, “I’m going to take a walk.” I nearly salivated at the prospect of watching my wife saunter topless among the hedonists. I had to roll over on my stomach to hide my once again flourishing erection. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more excited. Candice was parading among the beachgoers like a runway model, her head held high, her breasts thrust up and out.

At one point she stopped to have a brief but animated conversation with a young man. I got so turned on that I began to grind my dick against the ground beneath me. Toward the end of their talk, Candice wagged her finger at the guy, and I realized that he must have propositioned her. She laughed and continued on.

I couldn’t last much longer. I was almost coming in my trunks. When my wife returned, I took her by the hand and said we had to find a private spot. We slipped into a changing room barely big enough for one person and closed the door behind us.

“I’ve never been so turned on,” I panted.

“Me either,” Candice said, her voice hoarse with lust. I dropped my shorts, my cock so hard it practically touched my belly. Candice slid out of her bottoms and I slid into her cunt. We hadn’t fucked standing up in a long time, and memories of screwing in alleys after college dances came rushing back.

I kissed Candice zealously, our lips and tongues doing the lambada. My cock plunged into her, and she grunted with each thrust. I grabbed her hips and she jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. My God, here we were, over forty and settled into a life of domestic bliss, and fucking like two strangers who had just met!

I came quickly and explosively, as did my wife. We collapsed and could do nothing but stare at each other’s sweaty, panting body as we cooled down. Five minutes later — or was it an hour? — Candice noticed that my cock was still hard. This was highly unusual.

“Ready to go back out and catch some rays?” she asked, grabbing my erection and sinking to her knees. “Or are we not quite finished in here?” Candice answered her own question by taking my unflagging cock in her mouth. After a long, loving, luxurious blowjob, I came for the third time in less than three hours, my seed spilling down her throat.

That sun-splashed, sex-charged afternoon reenergized us like a bolt of electricity. Eventually we returned home to resume our ordinary life, but the time we spent in Spain was a truly spectacular way to kick off the second twenty years of our marriage.