It happened again: My husband convinced me to combine our vacation with a business retreat.

He swore that he would be in a few meetings but that we would spend most of the two weeks together. But after two days of his disappearing in the early afternoon and returning in the middle of the night, smelling of cigars and booze, I decided to enjoy the Caribbean island we were on, with or without him.

I checked with the concierge and was told that there were several secluded beaches and lagoons within walking distance of the hotel. I loaded my straw bag with a book, a towel, and plenty of sunblock, put on my bathing suit, and set off on my adventure. As I got farther down the beach, it got less and less crowded, until there was almost no one in sight. I still wanted a more isolated spot, so I took a path that led into the trees that bordered the sand. I hadn’t gone far when I emerged at the edge of a lagoon that was fed by a narrow inlet. It had its own lovely little beach. I settled down on the warm sand to read, bask, and enjoy the solitude. It didn’t take long for the serenity and heat to lull me to sleep.

I awoke with a start when a shadow passed over me. I had to look up into the sun, but I realized that the shadow was that of a woman‹a very shapely woman. She stepped aside and I got a better look at her; she was stunning. She had the body of a dancer, with a tiny waist. Her flimsy muslin top reached just below her breasts. Cutoff shorts barely covered her well-shaped butt and showed the side straps of what looked like a thong. Her skin was a deep olive and her short hair was chestnut colored.

Without saying anything, she seemed to be appraising me. Though I have a pretty figure, my body was encased in a very conservative one-piece swimsuit with a racer back. I didn’t think I compared very well to this beauty.

In a heavy French accent she said, “What are you doing on my beach?” I was so stunned by her beauty that my response was some mumbled stupidity. She repeated, “I said, what are you doing on my beach?”

“I was just reading,” I finally managed to croak.

She looked at my body, seeming to look through my suit, and said, “Then you’ll have to share this spot with me.” Before I knew it she had dropped her bag, pulled off her top, and begun to shimmy out of her cut offs. I was even more stunned than before. Her breasts were perfect, round globes with brown aureoles and nipples like pencil erasers. As she slipped out of her shorts I saw that her thong was barely enough to cover her pussy lips, let alone her pubic hair. Her eyes never left mine as she wiggled out of her meager coverings. It was almost as though she were daring me to look at her body. She didn’t have to dare me; I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to.

There was a familiar warmth growing in my own pussy that was scary and exciting. I was really beginning to desire this woman in a way I’d never experienced before. I was getting very wet and my nipples were getting as hard

as little rocks. I knew that she saw my nipples, and I almost suspected that she sensed my pussy juices flowing.

“Your shoulders,” she said.

“Huh?” I murmured.

“Your shoulders are getting burnt. Do you have sunscreen?” she asked. I nodded affirmatively and pointed to my bag. Without hesitation she reached into my bag, extracted the tube of goop, and came over to where I sat. She directed me to lie on my belly. I was like a robot obeying orders. She made a disgusted grunt and started taking the straps from my shoulders.

In a heavy French accent she said, “What are you doing on my beach?” I was so stunned by her beauty that my response was some mumbled stupidity. She repeated, “I said, what are you doing on my beach?”

Even that minimal touch sent chills through me and increased the flow of juices in my crotch. She pulled the top of my suit down to below my navel. As she applied the lotion to my back she made small noises, this time of approval. Her hands strayed down toward my breasts with each stroke. I expected her to reach under and grab my nipples any second. Instead she started on the backs of my legs. Her hands were strong and sure and each stroke brought her closer to soaking my pussy. Once her finger actually brushed firmly over the fabric at my crotch. I knew she was toying with me, but I was trapped between my growing desire and my fear of violating a taboo.

When she was done with my back she directed me to roll over. I did as I was told and exposed my bare front to her. She looked down at my tits, which were heaving. She applied lotion first to my belly, rubbing it in with circular motions, getting closer to my aching breasts with each rotation. She went up between my breasts and down either side to tease me further. Finally she applied her touch directly to my nipples, and I thought I would come right then. I arched my back and moaned.

She seemed to enjoy this, and licked her lips. She then hooked a finger into the folded-over swimsuit and said, “This suit is like an overcoat. What is the point of such a suit? Take it off!” I mumbled another stupidity about “not being able to.” She responded, “Fine, then you do me.” She sat herself down, rolled onto her stomach, and presented me with her beautiful ass. I shook like a leaf as I applied a dollop of lotion to the middle of her back. The thong she wore might have been a shoelace for all that it covered. The thin strip ran down her ass crack, not covering her puckered little hole at all. Even from this rear angle I could see that her pussy lips around the fabric, glistening with juice.

I realized she was as excited as I was. That made me bolder, and my thumbs strayed into her crack several times as I applied the sunblock. I finished her back, and she rolled over without direction, presenting me with her beautiful breasts. She looked up into my eyes with what could only be a challenge. “Touch me now,” she seemed to say. I let some lotion drop onto her stomach and began to knead it into her skin.

It was also at this time that I realized I had somehow gotten my face between her legs. The view was at once electrifying and frightening. Her legs were thrown far apart and the thong had traveled into the folds of her pussy. The fabric was wet and her labia were plump and purple. Her pussy was completely clean-shaven. The urge to lean down and taste this stunning woman’s love juice was overwhelming, and I found myself falling toward her box. I also found that my fingers were around her nipples, which were hard and erect. We were both moaning. I had to kiss her right then and there. So I did. And I scared myself half to death. When our lips met, shock waves ran through my whole body down to my toes. She reached up, cupped one breast with her hand, and let the other stray to the back of my neck. Her tongue was soft and deliberate. None of that porn-movie crap where the tongue moves like an anteater checking out an anthill. This was soft, strong, and sure, like no other kiss I’d ever had. My body tingled and I wanted this woman’s tongue in my cunt so very much.

Suddenly I was standing up, trying to straighten my suit, and stammering that I had to go. The intensity of the passion I was feeling was too much. I felt that if I made love with this woman I would stay on that beach, in her arms, forever. So I ran all the way back to the hotel.

That night as I sat on my balcony, eating my dinner alone (yes, my asshole husband had disappeared again), I realized what a mistake leaving had been. I decided I would return the next day and see if my beautiful stranger would give me another chance.

When I took my shower I shaved my pussy completely clean, something that I had never tried before. The feeling was incredibly sexy; so sexy, in fact, I could barely keep my finger out of my slit. Once in bed I couldn’t fall asleep, and had to masturbate several times just to relax. In the morning I went to a nearby clothing store and bought the tiniest thong bikini they had. Just like my little French sexpot’s, it barely covered my pussy lips, and the bra was like wearing Band-Aids on my nipples.

I set off around noon and arrived at the spot just as the day hit its hottest. I settled in, hoping that my friend would be along soon. I sat for nearly two hours, and was starting to think I had made her angry enough not to come back. It was really getting hot and I decided to go into the water to cool off. As I splashed water onto my face, thighs, and tits, I realized that not only was my bikini skimpy but transparent. Just as this thought crossed my mind the woman’s rich, sultry voice said, “Now, that’s more like it.”

I turned and there she was, only this time she looked sexier than before. No cutoffs this time, just a filmy sarong and no top at all. The sarong was as transparent as my bikini and floated in the breeze.

She walked into the water toward me, gave me one of her appraising looks, and smiled. As she slipped her tongue into my mouth she ground her body into mine, molding to my every curve. Her hand slipped around the back of my thong, which she grabbed and pulled so that it rode up into my pussy. I reached down to her hip and untied her sarong, letting it fall into the water. Her body was beautiful, and I wanted to touch all of it. I slid my hand down her belly until I reached her pussy. It was hot and slick with her juice. I moved my finger back and forth between its plump lips. She started to undo my bikini, purring like a cat as she grazed my nipples with her lips. She moved slowly down my body with her mouth and used her teeth to take off my thong. Having her mouth so close to my pussy made me weak at the knees. My nipples were already so hard they actually hurt. She gave my bald pussy one lick, but that was only a tease.

Then she stood up, kissed me again, and I got the faintest hint of my sweetness on her mouth. She said, “Not here,” and, taking my hand, led me down a path into the trees. Forgotten were our clothes and my belongings.

We hadn’t gone very far when we came upon a small bungalow. She took me inside and pulled me toward a bed with a mosquito net and white linen sheets. She gently pushed me down and lay on top of me, kissing me deeply. Her hands were everywhere and her thigh was in my crotch, making me wet with my own drippings. She kissed me all over: my breasts, my stomach, and finally my pussy. This time it was no tease. She ran her tongue from the tip of my clit right down into my hole. I was screaming at this point, and it took only three or four strokes to bring me to the hottest, strongest climax I had ever had.

When she kissed her way back up I saw that her face was soaked, and her chin dripping with my juice. I had to have her right then. I rolled her over and imitated her, kissing everything on my way to her honeypot. Her skin smelled like cocoa butter and her hair like lavender, but it was her pussy that drove me crazy. I had never smelled another woman’s vagina before, and the aroma made me insane. I slid my tongue between its dewy folds. I was tentative at first, but the slippery, salty taste made me more insatiable. I drove my tongue deeper into her as I put one, two, then three fingers into her hole while I nibbled and licked her clitoris. Each time I took out a finger I held it up for her to taste.

I don’t know how long we went on like this, but when we finally took a break, I was weak from exertion. As we lay together she caressed me, stroking my skin and making cooing noises. We made love several more times that day, though slower and more deliberately.

Needless to say, we repeated our trysts every day until I left. My husband only asked once where I had gone to, and seemed satisfied with whatever lie I told him. He did ask how I liked our getaway, and I told him that I had a great time. What he didn’t know was that I’d already booked a flight for the winter holidays.

Alone, of course.