A Creative Challenge Ch. 21


By the time we arrived at the Norman Manly International Airport in Kingston it was early evening and already dark, but when we stepped outside the air-conditioned airport we knew we had arrived somewhere deliciously warm compared to the city we had just come from. The sweet tropical scent of frangipani and jasmine was heavy in the air, along with the chirruping of crickets and cicadas.

Although security in the laid-back Caribbean was less obtrusive and paranoid than it has become in most places in the world, it had still taken us longer than we expected to get through customs, mainly because we were carrying so much less luggage than most tourists would for what was supposed to be a two-week vacation. They insisted on very carefully searching what few possessions we had, although neither of us could imagine that they were looking for drugs on the way in. Jamaica’s reputation for easy access to home-grown ‘erb made it unlikely that many people would bring their own recreational substances with them to these islands.

The customs officers were extremely polite and happy as customs officers go, and they were very amused by Amy’s explanation that we intended to spend most of our time in Jamaica stark naked, which is why we had so few clothes with us. Sometimes I was sure that Amy says things like that just to shock people, just to see their reaction as she jerks them out of their comfort zone. At other times, like on this occasion, it seems as if what she says is completely innocent, and that planning on being naked for the next two weeks is a perfectly ordinary reason for arriving in a country with next to no spare clothing.

I was pleased to see the ‘Fantasia’ stretched limo waiting outside the main entrance as Amy had been promised, with the door being held open by a very large and very black driver who introduced himself as Jimmy. He wore a truly enormous floral shirt and a big smile.

“You folks make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be at Fantasia in about half an hour,” said Jimmy, as he helped us into the limo and closed the door. He pronounced every part of the word ‘com-for-tab-le’ in that uniquely West Indian way, as if each syllable was a separate word that deserved the time to be appreciated on its own.

When he had stowed our bags in the trunk and settled into the driver’s seat, Amy tapped on the window behind him, and Jimmy lowered the glass barrier and twisted round towards her görükle escort in his seat.

“Was that half an hour of our time, or half an hour of ‘island time’?”, asked Amy.

“Island time is all we got ’round here,” said Jimmy, still smiling. “But there’s re-fresh-ments in the cabinet. Help yourselves.”

We were not in desperate need of anything alcoholic, we had already had more than enough to drink while we were strapped into our six-mile high metal tube, so as Jimmy put his window back up and pulled away from the curb, we both settled back into the very comfortable seats with a mineral water, and stretched our legs out. The journey so far had left both of us crumpled and tired, not surprisingly, and we both wanted a shower more than anything else.

Amy knelt forward and tapped on Jimmy’s window , and it swished down again.

“Jimmy, we’re not stopping anywhere else before we get to the resort, are we?”

“No, ma’am. You’re the last to arrive tonight, and the next stop is Fan-tas-i-a.”

“Goody, then do you mind if I get naked now? I’m in holiday mood.”

Jimmy paused for a moment, then said, “That’s fine with me, but you’ll need to check in when we get there, and the re-cep-tion is not a clothing optional area.”

“What do you mean, not a ‘clothing optional area’? I thought the whole place was clothing optional.”

“No, ma’am. Just the beach and the pool bar. And in your own villa, of course.”

“That sucks! It didn’t say that on the website. It had all these pictures of naked people.”

“That’s right. But not in the restaurants and bars and the other com-mon areas.”

“I think that’s false advertising, Jimmy, but thanks for letting us know.”

Amy was peeved by this news and slumped back in to her seat.

“Sorry, Sam. Looks like I didn’t do my research as well as I’d thought.”

“It’s OK. I’m sure we’ll have a good time anyway.”

“Oh, to hell with it, I’ve been dying to get out of these things since they got wet this morning,” said Amy, peeling her top off and unknotting her sarongs. “Damn, that’s a relief. I can’t remember the last time I wore clothes for that long, and they were really starting to irritate my skin.”

I could see Jimmy’s eyes widen in the rear view mirror, and his cheeks told me his grin had widened still further, but he was a professional driver, and we stayed firmly and smoothly on the bursa sınırsız escort bayan road. Once we were out of the city, we could see very little of the countryside except what was illuminated by the big headlights of the limo. The roads we were travelling on became narrower, and then the bitumen ran out, and we were cruising more slowly on winding dry dirt roads through thick trees.

Amy rested her head against my shoulder. Inside the limo was almost as dark as the countryside outside, so I slid my hand across her thigh and down towards her pussy. My searching fingers found that her own hand was already doing what mine had intended to do. It was gently massaging her clitoris. Amy softly giggled and moved her hand out of my way, using it to unzip the front of my pants instead, and opening her thighs a little to give me better access. If it hadn’t been such a long day already, we might have been tempted to both get naked and give Jimmy something to really tell the other resort staff about, but we were both tired. Without saying anything, we snuggled into each other and just enjoyed the closeness two people can get from being able to share the most intimate caresses just for their own sake rather than as foreplay. Amy’s hand was inside my fly, gently squeezing and stroking the head of my penis. My middle finger was slowly circling her clitoris, sliding down between her pussy lips from time to time to bring up a little more of her slippery aromatic wetness. If there is such a place as heavenly paradise, for that fifteen minutes or so I was sure that it would have to look just like the inside of a Jamaican limo.

The gates to the resort seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but once we were through them, we were on a smoothly paved driveway leading to a large reception area, completely covered with a thatched timber roof but open on all sides, so that the limo drove right inside and pulled up in front of the check-in counter. Amy yawned and then kissed me as she zipped up the front of my pants.

Jimmy opened the door for her, and Amy stepped out, still naked, and stood at the counter with her clothes in her hand. Behind a computer terminal was a beautiful island girl with very long and very fine corn braids, and incredibly white teeth.

“I’m sorry, madam, but…”, she began to say, but Amy raised her hand to stop her.

“I know, I bursa otele gelen escort bayan know. Jimmy told us already.”

She handed me her shirt and one of the sarongs and tied the other one around her, knotting it in front just high enough to cover her nipples. While she was standing still, the material hung straight down, covering the rest of her body down to mid-thigh level, but I knew that as soon as she moved it would open up at the front and flow behind her, concealing very little.

“Will that do?”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am. Welcome to Fantasia. We have all your details already, so if you will just sign here, I can give you the security keys. I hope you enjoy your beachfront villa. The train is here to take you to it now.”

When we turned round, Jimmy’s limo was gone, and instead a small electric train looking like an old fashioned steam locomotive was pulling up inside the reception area. Behind it were half a dozen golf-buggy sized two-seater carriages. The train driver put our bags onto a tray behind the engine and motioned us into the first carriage.

As I suspected it would, as Amy stepped forward, her sarong stayed where it was at first, then followed behind her, billowing out as she climbed on board. As she sat down, she deliberately made no attempt to close it around her and it stayed where it was, behind her on the seat and wide open from her sternum down.

“This could be even more fun than you thought,” I said as I sat beside her.

“In what way?”

“Well, if there weren’t any rules, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy breaking them.”

The train slowly pulled us through a patch of thick rainforest. Through the trees, we could see lights coming from some of the other villas, and soon we could hear surf, and waves breaking on sand. Salty spray was now part of the heady scent of the place, and the treetops were alive with the sounds of the nocturnal fauna going about their nightly chores of finding food and finding a mate.

We couldn’t see the sea from the front door of our palm-leaf thatched villa, because of all the coconut trees on each side, but when we walked through what appeared to be a very large high-ceilinged one-room hut and out of the big sliding glass doors on the opposite side, we were suddenly looking out onto a 180 degree vista of moonlit bay, with the beach below us, standing on a deck that was cantilevered out and above the last sand dune before the edge of the water lapping gently on the shore. It was breathtaking, and we both took deep lung-fulls of the clean sweet tropical air.

“Not bad,” said Amy, untying and dropping her sarong. “And you’re right about me and rules. Tomorrow morning let’s find out how many they’ve got here and try to break them all.”

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