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The Alize Tradewinds - Chapter 2

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: solohappy Posted on: 24 Jan 2006 1 comments
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We were well conditioned to all the salt air and sun at the mid-point of our island hopping vacation. After dinner that fourth night we talked for hours about "watching the Spice of Life" earlier that morning; and then what had subsequently occurred almost simultaneously on each of our boats later that day. We all speculated somewhat as to where this would lead our both creative and open spirits for the balance of our sailing. The coves and beaches on the islands we visited were by no means exclusively ours; there were other boats and resorts that used them as well. Our group, who we had fondly dubbed "The Dirty Fourteen" was lucky to always have had "plenty of (heavy) breathing room" thus far. Likewise it always seemed that whatever groups or parties with whom this paradise had to be shared with also wanted their privacy as well. Tonight was the first night that only our four boats sat moored off shore lapping in the gentle swells just a hundred or-so yards away from the beach and our dwindling fire.Four of the fourteen were two couples who had made trips together before; and they were quick to mention how fortunate we all were that this "Dirty Fourteen" blended so well together so quickly. My Faithful Captain was unanimously selected as the official group leader, a role that flattered her to no-end (And with no pun or play on words intended; she was the only one of us who could read a sextant ). Everyone in our group had at least alluded to how nice having the chance to have an opportunity to share nudity as well as these snippets of sexuality was a privilege. The two couples had made several trips together to the Caribbean in the past, and had tried out a couple of clothes-optional resorts. "This trip is by far the nicest trip we've ever had. The resorts were wonderful....but a lot more expensive; and something like extended kissing and hugging even when you're in waist-high water fifty yards from the shore would be somewhat frowned upon. We tried several times to find a little private place on a dune or behind high grass just off the beach.....but we never really felt as if we could just totally let-go. I used to even feel sort of embarrassed when I took too much time putting suntan lotion all over myself....and I never felt comfortable enough to rub lotion all over my husband." And the husband chipped in "....but I did have a very good time watching you take too long putting lotion on yourself."After that one last giggle we covered the little fire and rowed ourselves back to the boats. My captain and I continued to talk as sat in our cockpit, which we had favorably renamed "the cock-and-clit-pit." We thought about devising some games that the group would like; and I shared that thus far in the trip watching my boat-mate swim and snorkel through my diving mask had been the most sensuous experience. "You pervert!" she half-shouted, and then asked me to tell her more. "I think you've got the makings for a great game idea we can play tomorrow." Just four days ago the two of us were gingerly polite in giving each other first pick for which cabin on the boat the other one wanted to sleep in; and now we were discussing the pros and cons of masturbating when our cock-and-clit were underwater. There was a little noise coming from the boat farthest from us. As best we could tell, all four of the crew were up sitting in their own cock-and-clit-pit as we were. The noise and voices were intermittent; maybe they were playing a game. My captain and I converted our cock-and-clit-pit into a bed, we grabbed blankets and pillows and went to sleep. Our fifth day was a beach, scuba, hiking and/or full-use-of-the-resort day; it started with breakfast next to the resort's swimming pool. Our "game" was somewhat fully developed and defined; my captain asked everyone "be prepared to play" about mid-afternoon. We then went for a stroll on the beach; it appeared that the balance of the day would unfold as follows -- We'd go back for showers and shaves at the resort's pool-side facilities. We'd regroup for another cup of coffee and then make a hike to an old hilltop island French fortress. We'd have lunch at the resort pool, a little siesta on the beach....and then it should be time to "let-the-games-begin."The guys were showered and back at the pool, had finished two cups of coffee as well as had started our first beer by the time the women reappeared from their showers; "we had to stand in line and wait until we were all finished." We started our hike; there were maybe a half-dozen or so other vacationers who had the same idea. The view from a turret atop the old stone fort was not-to-be-believed; looking down at our boats moored off the beach was wonderfully peaceful....the water was so clear that we could even make out each of the anchor lines. Cameras clicked away; and then it was time for group pictures. The seven women commanded the limelight....lots of teasing with the undoing and redoing of straps, discreet moon-shots, and one quick picture of all of them standing semi-topless as they haphazardly masked their breasts with various leaves, wildflowers, branches and even rocks. As a somewhat devious sub-species group of the overall Dirty Fourteen, the women insisted that they needed one more picture; but only when the rest of the hikers were gone. They huddled together to pick the right setting and stage. The last couple of hikers departed down the long winding stone steps to the base of the fort; our "sentry" did not see anyone else making their way up the steps....and with that the women took their places on a rampart in front of an old wind-worn castellated wall....and almost as if it had been rehearsed....the bottoms of their swimsuits were slid down all the way to the floor in unison.....to reveal seven now-totally-shaved and bare-beavers. Drag-strips, closely trimmed hair; any and all pubic hair whatsoever on all seven women was now gone; history...toast. The men got back-up shots for their back-up shots....and more insurance shots just for save keeping. We pleaded with the women to take off their tops with mixed emotions.... there was definitely something very decadently different about them being bottomless but with their breasts covered. More hikers had begun to make their way up the steps, and the photo-shoot was thus ended. After grabbing some beers at the bar we all went for some sun and a rinse-off swim at the beach. "So that's why it took you all so long this morning in the shower." And the response from the women was, "That's not half of it.....we had started a movement...every other woman who came in while we were working did the same! There must at least a pound of hair tucked into the waste basket in that Ladies' Bathroom!" I could only think how appropriate their "pre-game" shower-meeting had been given that our afternoon snorkeling event would now be even more "clear-cut."The shelf of the ocean floor was very gradual. We anchored our dinghies just where the water was about waist-high which actually provided us a little privacy barrier from anyone on the beach as we played our games. We all looked innocent enough with our masks, fins, and snorkels. The women with no tops wasn't a big deal; and any onlookers would be hard-pressed to figure out that we were all bottomless as well. The "game" was open to suggestions....but we started with the women watching and judging for which man could achieve the first erect "cannon" without any touching. Tim from Indiana won....but contestants 2-thru-6 all came in a very close second. Next up was the men snorkeling as we watched the women compete for "who could show off the widest channel" event. It was a draw...and the women took great delight in finding out that their prize was seven more erect "cannons." Our various contests and trials continued on with everything from having nipples sucked into the end of a snorkel, to oceanic finger exploration; and then ending up to some (very difficult-next to impossible) underwater oral exams. The closing award ceremonies consisted of all of us gently bobbing and kneeling in water just a little bit shallower wishing that drinking a beer out of a bottle while wading was not a restriction of the resort's beach area. The foursome crew of the "Barebuns" also shared the fact that they had all masturbated in front of each other last night before going to bed.....that was what the noise we heard was all about. We thought as a group that we'd like to perform "a series of one act plays" in front of each other the next day when we were under sail. If the wind and currents permitted....we figured that we would anchor or even just drift for a while once we were a goody distance offshore. The meeting and games ended with a vote to meet again on the beach for a beer and lots of the resort's almost-addictive sesame-pretzel snack-things.The rest of our vacation was picture perfect...probably another one or maybe even two hundred perfect-pictures perfect. No one cried or became overly emotional until we had to break up as we made our separate ways to our various connecting gates once we were back at the airport in Miami. In the months that followed we all received and sent some of the most wonderful Kodak-picture-moment-greeting cards to-and-from each other "just so we could stay in-touch." Each one of those cards and notes was enough to drift me right back onto the beach, into the water and back onboard the boats which were now almost a year off in the horizon. Our resolve to taking another trip together the following winter never happened....which in retrospect was probably for the best -- all the spontaneous adventures of "The Dirty Fourteen" on that winter vacation could never ever be planned or identically re-created.....just like those tradewinds with the shifting tides sending little unique and gentle waves to lap the beaches of all our islands..___________________[sig]Outdoors Westerner[/sig]