Whatever Makes It Perfect

All the characters in this story are over eighteen.

'Almost any indiscretion is allowable as long as no one is knowingly harmed, and it makes for the perfect vacation.' Sometimes fantasies have to be lived.

Chapter One

We were on our first trip to Europe. I had just turned thirty and Ron and I had been happily married for six years It was the start of our second week and after several days in Paris we had caught the TGV to Toulon. Now that's what train travel should be: four hundred and thirty miles through ever changing countryside in about four hours.

We rented a car and Ron had found us a quiet hotel in Le Pradet, a short drive along the coast. At dinner, our first evening we were served by a young waiter in his twenties, who introduced himself as Enzo. The first thing that struck me, apart from the fact he had a surprising but cute Italian accent, were his gorgeous eyelashes, piercing eyes, and jet-black hair. Put that together with a hot bod and as soon as he moved to the kitchen I said to Ron, "Wow, I could jump him in a minute."

Ron laughed. We often talk like this when we see physically attractive people, but of course it's just talk. Towards the end of the meal Ron leaned towards me a whispered, "I think he finds you pretty hot too judging by the way he can't take his eyes off you."

I laughed and looked up and immediately locked eyes with the young man. I looked away hurriedly as I felt myself blush.

That night Ron asked me what I would do with the waiter, and we had a delicious fantasy fuck. After which I slept like a log.

x-x-x-x-x

We spent the following morning by the pool but after lunch, we drove to a nearby beach called Monaco. I was neither surprised nor shocked to see women of all ages topless. Ron grinned as I removed my light sweater and then my bikini top. As we wandered further to the right, we realized most people there were completely naked. There were couples with young children and older people, even a few teens and they were sunbathing or playing games just as everyone does at the beach.

I looked at Ron and he looked at me.

"Well, Julie, when in Rome..."

We put down our beach bags and took it all off. Nobody paid us the slightest bit of attention although looking at Ron with his tanned forearms I was acutely conscious how very untanned most of our bodies were. Time for plenty of sunscreen.

After a couple of hours, I said we had probably had enough sun for our first day and should be getting back to the hotel.

The following day we took a drive along the coast as far as the legendary St Tropez. On the way back we stopped briefly at Ramatuelle, and again south of Pampelonne beach, we found ourselves on another naturist beach, but it did not have the lazy vibe of our more local one. We had dinner on the way back to our hotel.

On day three we got up for a late breakfast after a bit fun in which Ron introduced the fantasy element again. I blushed when I found we were being served by the same cute waiter with whom I had just had a very satisfying imaginary fuck.

We spent most of the day hanging out at the nude beach, although we took a break to go have lunch at a little place nearby. We were just thinking about packing up when Ron nudged me. Who should be walking out of the water towards us but Enzo, our cute waiter, buck naked, of course? He was quite close before he saw us. Again, I raised my eyes from their immediate point of focus and locked with his. I felt myself blush as I was aware of a very sexual response in my nipples and crotch. I wasn't sure if he had a similar response as he abruptly changed direction and moved off further to our right.

Ron looks at me grinning.

"You enjoyed the view. Something more to fantasize about."

He put the emphasis on the last syllable, then just repeated, "size."

So, he'd noticed too. I'd never really had size fantasies, but I'd never paid much attention to men's junk before. It wasn't that Enzo was porn star big; just that he was clearly bigger that Ron or any of the boys I been with before my marriage. When I say bigger, I mean maybe an inch longer in his flaccid state and definitely thicker. Of course, that was just judging by how he looked on the beach. He might have been a little aroused, but he certainly was far from hard.

Ron's erection is nothing to complain about and he knows so many ways to make me happy. But that's reality. Fantasies are a little different. We had a couple of laughs about it on the short drive home, but I could not quite forget the tingle it induced in my sex.

x-x-x-x-x

It was two days later, our final day in Le Pradet, that I came up to the room around five o'clock. We made some friends and Ron was enjoying a drink with them. I excused myself as I wanted to shower and change before dinner. After my shower I stopped for a moment to admire my tan in the mirror when I heard the bedroom door open. I'd already hung up my towel and figuring it was Ron I walked into the bedroom as naked as when I had showered. Enzo was stooped over the mini-bar, and I practically bumped into him before I realized he was not Ron.

He stood and breathed "bellisima!" as his gaze traversed my entire body. I stood transfixed as we briefly locked eyes before his gaze dropped and that thrill went through me like a lightning bolt. He saw my reaction and stepped forward, reached, and caressed my left breast. My nipples flared. Why I didn't stop him I don't know. He pulled me to him and kissed me. I kissed him back and opened my mouth to his probing tongue. His other hand cupped my naked buttock pulling me closer and I could feel his thick hardness through his thin cotton pants. I was wet enough for both of us.

At that moment, the phone rang, and his hand came off my butt as though he'd been scalded. He looked at me and I looked at him while the phone rang. He stepped back looking guilty and saying "mi scusi, madame." Gathering my senses, I stepped past him and picked up the phone.

"Hi, Darling," said Ron, "Are you nearly ready? Catherine and Jim have suggested we go to that new restaurant we talked about."

"That would be lovely, " I said, "Just give me five minutes and I'll be down."

The moment had passed. Enzo was quickly placing new water bottles in the mini bar. He blew me a kiss as he slipped out of the door. What was he thinking? I suspect the moment he heard Ron's voice on the phone he was scared shitless.

My own reactions had staggered me. I was so overcome with lust in that moment that but for the phone call Enzo had only to push me back on the bed and I would have been his. When I fucked Ron that night it was Enzo I was fantasizing about. Ron commented, "You were really excited tonight I expect it was that waiter you were really fucking."

I was horrified at how on the money he was, but chuckled and said, "If I fucked him would you have minded?"

It was his turn to laugh and say, "What ever makes your vacation perfect, honey."

x-x-x-x-x

Nothing like that had ever happened before and then I thought that was not entirely true. The last time had been only a few months after my eighteenth birthday. I was in my first year of college and was excited to be meeting so many smart new people. Already in "frosh week" five or six guys had tried to put the make on me, but they were mostly too cocky by half, although two of them were quite cute. I went on a first date to a 'get-acquainted' dance with one, a guy called Radley, who was different in that he mostly was interested in me rather than telling me all about himself.

After the dance we went to a place that sold crepes, those thin French-style pancakes, and real expresso coffee. Both were firsts for me. Rad had lemon juice and sugar on his, while I settled for real maple syrup. They were expensive but delicious and Rad insisted on paying.

Later when he drove us up to a quiet look-out point above the town. I'll confess it was a very romantic spot and I did not want the evening to end. When he leaned in to kiss me, I hesitated, I had not kissed a boy for real before. We brushed lips and then locked on. I had heard about French kissing and let my mouth open as he probed with his tongue. All sorts of new feelings ran through me. If you've been there, I don't need to describe them in detail, and if you haven't then I would not do them justice.

I found he had undone my seat belt and as he leaned across me, he slightly reclined my seat back. As we continued to kiss, I felt his hand on my bra and then on my bare breast as he deftly opened the front clip of my bra. I was thrilled and appalled. No one had ever touched me there and I could feel both my nipples harden, not just the one under his fingers.

There was a movement and then, as he moved towards me, he gently guided my right hand down to his penis. It felt bigger and harder than I ever imagined one would be and I broke the kiss and struggled to sit upright. The truth was I wanted to see.

There was a full moon, quite enough light to see clearly. It was pink and smooth and slightly shiny, and when I pulled down on it the skin opened like a flower to reveal the head was a slightly darker shade of pink. Was it really so big? I had no point of comparison. I expected it to be repulsive. We girls had often joked about the 'ew!' factor, but it was beautiful. I continued to touch it in amazement it was so soft and firm as I gently pulled on it and it grew even firmer in my hand.

He clearly wanted to go further as he started to lift the hem of the dress I had worn to the dance. I was quite wet down there and embarrassed and I pushed his hand away before he could get anywhere near. I intended let him know I was going to go to the alter as a virgin.

"No," I said, "be satisfied with this."

I started to stroke him more vigorously. I knew it was called a hand job, and my new friend Carrie said it was what she gave guys who had paid for a meal or a movie. At the time I had thought "No way!" but here I was, and I was curious to see what happened. After a moment he whispered "faster," and lay back and let me continue.

I paused for a moment to put both hands on its length and they just fit nicely. Then I took my left hand away and turning in my seat to face him began to stroke him with my right hand as fast as I could. He closed his eyes and groaned. The head of his penis was now a deep purple and permanently exposed. I had a sudden urge to kiss it. I leaned forward and touched it with my lips, then opened them and held the tip in my mouth.

In the same second, a spurt of his stuff hit the back of my throat and filled my mouth as I pulled it away. The next spurt landed on the front of my dress, and another ended in my lap. I was shocked at the distance they travelled. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and began to wipe himself pointing at the glove compartment.

Inside was box of Kleenex and I used them to mop up the residue from my dress.

He said, "That was great!" but neither of us had much to say after that as he did up his pants and we straightened the seat backs. He drove me back to my residence and we parted with a shy smile but no words.

I lay in bed that night pondering what had happened. I had no regrets. It was a remarkable learning experience. He was nice but there was no way we would become steady dates. I was pretty sure he didn't want to, and I knew I didn't. It was just an experience. Would he tell people what I did? I doubted it; it just wasn't a big deal.

But that wasn't the episode of which I was thinking. On the first day of classes I met Karim. He was very shy, perhaps because his English, though reasonably fluent, was heavily accented. We were paired in chem lab and, at first, I thought he didn't even like me. He explained he had only been in the States since the beginning of the summer. He and his sister were refugees from Iran where his parents still lived. My knowledge of geography outside of the States is crap and I had to look at a map to understand exactly where it was.

I had never met any foreign boys and felt uncomfortable at first, but the truth was he was gorgeous. He was exactly my height and had lightly chiseled features. He was tanned but not dark with black hair and a cupid mouth. He had deep dark eyes and the most amazing eyelashes. That night, as I tried to sleep, I could not get him out of my mind, and I masturbated myself to sleep.

During chem lab I could hardly concentrate I was so absorbed in his looks, and I found myself undressing him in my mind and imagining his body on mine. It was lust at first sight and after class two days later I asked if he'd like to have a coffee with me. He agreed but was surprised when I said I'd make him one in my room.

We never had the coffee. I kissed him as soon as we were through the door. Nobody paid attention who you brought to your room in the daytime. I drank in his eyes and eyelashes as I let my hand find his fly. He did not need further encouragement. Our clothes were off, and his hands were all over me. I sucked his now hard cock. It might not have been as big as Rad's, but I didn't care. Then he pushed me back on the bed and went down between my legs.

When he moved on top of me, I was in two minds. My brain said we were going too far but my lust did not want him to stop, was actively encouraging him. There was a moment of pain, and he was in. He didn't last very long and then we were done. I had lost my virginity to a boy I barely knew.

As I lay in bed, I was shocked by the way my libido had overtaken my actions. I didn't love him or even pretend to. Instead, I had been ruled by a lust that needed to be satisfied. As for him, it was obviously not his first time although he was far from experienced.

Afterwards we never again talked about it. What he thought, I have no idea, but I don't think he told anyone. We continued to work as satisfactory lab partners, and I learned more about Iran: that its people were not Arabs, and that they spoke Farsi, not Arabic.

x-x-x-x-x

I had sex with other men during my college years but never again with Karim. I never again took the initiative; it was always the guys who made the running. I found the sex itself could vary from the disappointing to the amazing although I never imagined myself more than briefly in love with any of the guys involved.

Initially my relationship with Ron was more like a friendship with benefits. We were working together and started dating. It wasn't serious until gradually it was. We just found we clicked. We complimented each other in so many ways not always holding the same views but never seriously at odds. And the sex. There we were so compatible it was amazing. We were ready to experiment and laugh at ourselves when the results were plain silly.

My only line in the sand was anal. We tried briefly but it was painful as soon as he began to enter, and I insisted we stop. Ron did not press it then or ever.

x-x-x-x-x

And now we were on a vacation where we were celebrating our sixth wedding anniversary. I had dismissed the long past experience of being ruled by lust as a young girl's one time thing brought on by over impatient hormones. Now it had almost happened again. Not when I was starved for sex but in the middle of a vacation where Ron and I were making out like randy teenagers.

Part of the reason we celebrated sex so regularly was that shortly after we were married Ron was diagnosed with testicular cancer. He had an operation followed by radiation therapy and some sessions of chemo. When it was over, the bad news was he was infertile, the good news was he could still get erections and produce semen. The better news was that his libido rather than being diminished seemed enhanced. For me, the fact that I could cease contraception and enjoy worry free sex was great. My periods started again but were generally very light anyway.

The encounter with Enzo shocked and even somewhat scared me. I thought about it often over the following months, mostly in disbelief, but occasionally in a private fantasy while I masturbated vigorously and satisfactorily. Something I never shared with Ron.

Chapter Two

All that was five years ago. Since then, we had had a couple of uneventful vacations Stateside. We were actively planning a return to Europe when the pandemic hit. During COVID we looked for any safe outdoor activity like snow shoeing and golf. I enjoyed golf for the outdoor experience, but Ron really took to it. Except in the dead of winter, he and a group of buddies played two or three times a week. It kept him engaged and as I had plenty of other pursuits, I was glad for both of us.

When the worst of the pandemic was over, we had had our vaccine shots and I started thinking about resurrecting our travel plans. I was about to bring it up with Ron when he announced out of the blue that he and his buddies had planned a five-day golf trip to Myrtle Beach. It was pretty obvious it was 'guys only' and two rounds a day.

When I suggested we might have discussed it, he got a bit huffy and said it was only a week and it didn't mean we couldn't have a proper vacation in the summer. It wasn't worth fighting over and I said 'fine.'

About ten days later JP's wife, Jeannine (JP is one of the golf buddies) asked if I would like to join her and two of the other wives on a trip to the Caribbean. It seemed the golf jaunt Ron had been asked to join was an annual tradition, and some of the wives saw it as an opportunity for an all-girls trip to the sun. This year they had decided to spend some of it on a yacht, so if I didn't get seasick, I would be very welcome. I was surprised to be invited as I didn't really know these ladies outside of a couple of social gatherings where social distancing had been the order of the day.

I ran it by Ron, and he was as surprised as I was, but he thought it would be great for me to become part of their social set. So, there I was two weeks later sitting on a plane with three somewhat older women that I hardly knew heading to the sun while the boys drove a camper van south down I-95.

We had got up at the crack of dawn to catch on Saturday to catch an 8am flight to Puerto Rico so apart from a brief conversation we spent most of the time snoozing. I gathered that one member of their usual foursome was visiting a sick elderly parent and so the others had decided to invite me.

Jeannine explained that she, Hazel, and Mandy had always wanted to go on a yacht but Dina, the missing member, was prone to seasickness and wouldn't agree, so now was their chance. The plan was to have four nights on a yacht sailing in the British Virgin Islands before catching a flight to St Martin for a couple of full days of beach time followed by a direct flight home the following Friday.

When we reached the airport in San Juan, we grabbed a quick snack as we had two hours before our Silver Airways connection to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands. We were met at the airport and transferred by private car to the ferry which took us to where we our yacht was moored. After we had completed all the paperwork with the charter company, we were welcomed on board by our yacht by the captain. His name was Denis Taylor. He was six foot one and smartly dressed in a yachting cap, white shirt, and flannel pants, which contrasted with his almost purple-black skin. I guessed he was a good ten years older than me, about mid- to late- forties as he had a touch of grey in his close-cut hair and his beard.

He introduced his partner, Michelle; she was clearly younger, probable mid-twenties and much lighter in colour, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. I wasn't sure whether partner was a reference to their sexual relationship or merely to the business. She gave us each a welcome drink and together they gave us a quick tour of the yacht including safety procedures, our accommodations, and the indoor and outdoor dining arrangements.