My husband, Reverend Sam Davidson, had hired a consultant to strengthen his church. But it had gone terribly wrong. Doug Wainwright, the consultant, may have professional experience, but he was making my life miserable.
He recorded me naked. Then he used that embarrassing situation, teasing me about the color of my panties and taking them off me on two occasions. Even while I stood in church to sing a hymn, facing my husband at the pulpit, he was behind me pulling my panties down.
I was mortified, but truth be told, I did feel a little thrill. The danger and naughty situation awakened something inside me. The fresh air between my legs felt good. Was I a bad wife, a bad preacher's wife?
I have to admit that nasty as he was, Doug had a sense of humor. He told me this was just for fun. He told me that he was just playing a panty game with me, nothing more. I should have been enraged by his behavior, but his game filled me with more suspense than anger.
A few days after Doug de-pantied me in church, my husband asked me to come to his office. When I arrived I saw that Doug was there. My first thought was, "Oh no, I'm wearing panties."
My hubby smiled and said, "Honey, Doug here has a good suggestion, and I wanted to run it by you. He knows that preachers' wives have a lot of duties and stress in their lives, even things they hide emotionally, and he recommends that you have some time off for yourself. Maybe a trip away for a week to somewhere you can relax. How does that sound?"
I was surprised and didn't know what to say. Doug said, "The pressures on ministers' wives is more than people think. You deserve some recognition and some rest."
I nodded and said, "Well, that does sound nice."
"Good," my husband said, "We've already made contact with a nice resort down in the Caribbean. It's a short flight, and you can take a week to kick back and just relax."
I blinked and said, "Oh! That sounds too expensive."
Doug smiled, and said, "Usually, it would be, but I have a friend who owns the resort, and because it's for a church, he will reduce the price. And I've so enjoyed working with your husband," then he paused a moment and winked in my direction and said, "and with you, too, I'll pay for it. So all you need to do is buy the plane ticket."
Her husband smiled, "Isn't that great? Didn't I pick the best consultant?"
All I could do was nod and say, "He certainly has skills that we don't always see."
Doug smiled.
Rev. Sam smiled.
I crossed my legs and was grateful that I still had my panties on.
Doug walked me to the door and into the hallway. "I hope you'll enjoy a week away," he said. "And I want to apologize to you for my bad behavior on Sunday. I hope you will forgive me."
I was surprised because I half expected him to insist on my panties again right here in the church office hallway. Instead, he apologized and he had convinced my husband to recognize my need for a vacation. Now I wasn't sure what to make of Doug.
Instead of embarrassing me again, he said, "I hope we can be friends," and he stuck out his hand.
I paused, then I shook his hand and said, "Okay. Friends." I left with my panties in place, and a week later I was on a plane to the islands.
A driver met me at the airport and took me to the resort. The scenes on the island were perfect. Swaying palms, lush landscapes, colorfully dressed local people, and lovely sea breezes. At the resort front desk I was met by Roland, who introduced himself as the manager and friend of Doug's. "We are so happy to have you with us, Mrs. Davidson," he said, and then he personally took me to my room overlooking a white sand beach. "All our services are free to you. Dining, beverages, exercise, beach activities, spa."
Roland was definitely tall dark and handsome, and his graciousness and courtesy made even more of an impression. Roland and all of the resort staff were native islanders of African descent, and were most attractive and exotic with their lovely accents.
I relaxed in my room, unpacked, then change to take a walk on the beach. It was like heaven.
That evening, Roland arranged for a quiet dinner in my room, served on my balcony. A small table was decorated with flowers and linen. Another tall handsome young man named Franklin served and wished me good night. The quiet and beauty of the place were healing, and I felt waves of stress melt away as the sun set into the sea.
The next day, I was eager to rest on the beach. I could see the ocean from my balcony, but sand dunes blocked my view of the guest bathing area. A boardwalk led over a small dune and to the waterfront.
As I came closer to the beach, I saw many vacationers enjoying themselves reclining on the resort lounge chairs and more on towels closer to the water. What I did not expect was to see many of the women topless. Or nude. Apparently, this was a clothing optional beach.
I immediately thought of Doug Wainwright. That bastard!
But it occurred to me that I was far from home, and no one was there I would know or who would know me. As I searched for a deck chair, I began to calm down. After all, some women were fully covered, as I was, in beach attire.
However, I was shocked by male nudity. I saw one naked man, then another, and quite a few more. The men were with their wives, it seemed, and I tried not to notice as I settled down in a chair.
A young waiter came to me right away to ask for my drink order, in in a few moments he returned with a delicious lemonade. My wide brimmed hat and sunglasses shaded me as I tried not to stare at the women next to me whose bare breasts were being oiled by one of the beachfront waiters. Two rows over, a watched as the young man rolled her breasts from side to side.
In the next half hour, I saw more naked men than I'd ever seen in my lifetime. The variety intrigued me, and I found myself interested to compare how they looked. As oddness of the situation faded, I started to appreciate the casual way these resort guests allowed their bodies such freedom. It was certainly different from the usual church women's committee meeting I would normally be at that time.
I noticed that there appeared to be more women than men on the beach. In the hotel, I had noticed groups of women without men. Women definitely outnumbered men. Just about every woman I saw was wearing a wedding ring, and I wondered if this resort was especially popular as a getaway for wives.
The waiter who had been attending to the woman next to me turned to me and asked, "Madam, would you like me to put sun screen on you?"
I smiled and declined, but a woman two chairs over raised her hand and said, "I would." He moved to her and applied lotion as she lay on her back. Then I heard him say, "Yes mam, of course," and she raised herself up slightly as he pulled down her bathing suit bottom and then apply lotion to her bare white backside.
I tried to turn away, but others watched, too, as he smoothed lotion over her buttocks and down to her ankles, the slowly back up her legs. As his hands moved on the inside of her legs, I saw her smile. Had he "touched" her? I couldn't tell. She turned over and he continued to coat her skin with lotion from shoulders to toes, sparing only the hair-covered zone between her legs. At her breasts, he said, "You'll need extra protection here," and he applied another layer of cream to her nipples and gently caressed them.
I was a bit breathless after watching that, and I must admit that when the young man removed her bathing suit, I remembered what it was like to have my panties removed. Watching him, I felt sensations that I usually try to ignore.
Roland and Franklin stood at the beach bar surveying the scene. They saw me, and I waved hello. Both of them smiled and walked my way.
Both wore terrycloth beach jackets with the resort crest on the pocket and rather tiny shorts that showed off their muscular legs. The both came to me, smiling, "Hello, Mrs. Davidson, we hope you are finding all you need."
"Thank you, all is well," I said.
"Well, if there is anything you desire, all you need to do is let us know." I could swear that I saw their parts get bigger as they stood over me.
"Thank you," I said, "Maybe a little sun lotion on my shoulders?"
Franklin smiled and removed his jacket. His muscular dark-skinned young body glistened. "It would be my pleasure."
I removed my robe and leaned forward to let him reach my back. My bathing suit was a modest one-piece, and I didn't think that my body was much for men to look at. But Franklin treated me like I was special.
As he leaned over to reach down my back, I could see the outline of what appeared to be a very large penis barely contained by his shorts. Definitely, I felt a stirring as I remembered the waiter massaging lotion into my neighbor's breasts.
As if he read my mind, he asked, "Does madam wish to tan her breasts? If so, allow me." He slid my straps down without waiting for me to approve.
My instincts to stop him were overwhelmed by a growing sensation of pleasure from his touches. I started to object, but I just couldn't. Franklin expertly lowered my top, and my lily-white modest breasts were exposed to the sunshine for the first time.
He smiled and reached for more lotion. I glanced to the side and saw nearby guest watching me, the first strangers to see my nipples. Just knowing that they could see my private places gave me a sensation of daring and thrill.
Roland had been watching then said, "I will see you later," dropped his jacket and walked down the beach as Franklin spread protecting lotion on my vulnerable breasts. I let him do his work without complaint, assuming that he does this often and knew best how to prepare a woman's body for beach exposure. His large hands pressed firmly as the lotion soaked into my skin. He paused to find a tube of ointment, "This will best protect madam's little nipples." As he used just one finger to dab my nipple tips my toes buzzed with pleasure.
As if he had done a gentlemanly duty, Franklin said, "There, madam is now much better ready for the sunshine, but the sun screen should be reapplied periodically." He walked back to the bar and watched for other guests in need.
Stark naked from the waist up, I closed my eyes and felt the warmth on my bare skin. I turned my head from time to time, and enjoyed watching strangers examine me. I wasn't used to lustful and admiring looks, and the new sensation built my confidence.
This was a private beach, but I noticed perhaps a half dozen of what appeared to be local young men, sleek and dark-skinned, parade together onto the beach and then separate and stroll up and down the beachfront. Each wore the same small black shorts, and each was strong and handsome. I later learned that these lads were employed by the resort to mingle with guests.
While returning to my room for a shady break, I noticed a sign with beach rules. I had missed it before. It clearly marked this beach as clothing optional. Rules included no photographs, guests must use towels on beach lounges, courtesy must be observed at all times, and no lewd behavior.
The beachfront was quiet from noon to two in the afternoon while guests and employees took a shady break and a restful siesta. Employees groomed the beach, replaced towels, and cleaned the guest lounge chairs.
I returned to the beach in the afternoon to find Roland standing at the beach bar welcoming guest back to the sand and surf. He wore his official resort jacket, but instead of shorts, he was naked from the waist down. He smiled at me as I tried not to stare at what had to be the largest penis on the island. I had never seen such size and thickness in a male, not that I've had much experience. A minister's wife does not gather such information.
The bar waiters and the other young men all were nude now, and from what I could see they had been selected for a certain characteristic. These were impressive specimens of what gentlemen usually hide in their pants.
I saw a husband and wife, still in their bathing suits, with a handsome nude Adonis. He rose and took the wife by the hand into the surf. As they waded into waist-deep water, I walked down to the water's edge to dip my toes in the cool ocean water. He playfully lifted her over the waves, and as each wave passed his manhood looked larger and larger.
He pointed to her breasts and she let her top fall away, and her large breasts swung free. I glanced back to her husband, but he was reading a magazine. He held her to him to lift her, and as the waves rose and fell, I saw his long dick angled slightly upward. Its length took my breath away.
That evening I observed these two and the hubby together in the elevator going to their room. Roland ran a resort that catered to women who liked their vacation to include more variety than I had imagined.
All afternoon, I observed the waiters and the local young men and Roland and Franklin taking care of guests needs and whims, if you know what I mean. At one point, Roland himself applied sun lotion to me, and without asking he lowered my top to expose me. As he reached over me to put his hands on my back, his enormous cock swung just inches from my face. My eyes were glued to it as his pink glans began to emerge from its elongated foreskin. When he exposed my breasts, the entire pinkish purple head of his dick was in view.
This was quite an educational vacation.
In the early evening, Franklin served dinner again on my balcony as I watched the sunset. I said to him, "Franklin, I've never been to a place like this. Does this resort cater to a certain clientele?"
He politely replied, "Why yes mam, all our guests are special."
"Oh," I said, "This is my first time to be in the islands, and it's all so new to me."
He smiled, "First time visitors are our specialty, mam." Then added, "Did you enjoy your time on our beach today?"
"Oh yes," I said, "We don't have anything like that where I come from." I laughed out loud and added, "No, we sure don't."
He smiled, certainly knowing exactly what I meant. "We're so glad you are here, mam."
"Me, too," I said, as Franklin nodded and left me to my privacy. It felt good to have seen and been part of such a novel and stimulating day, and then to have my privacy respected in the evening. I felt safe and secure even in this place that was so different. And there was no naughty Doug Wainwright there to take off my panties.
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