I have posted the majority of this tale in the "Group Sex category. I don't wish to cause confusion but this chapter is almost entirely MM sex. For that reason I have posted in under "Gay Male" although there is just a touch of MMFF group sex at the end.
Once again my thanks to LarryInSeattle for his help editing. As always any errors that remain are mine alone.
Helpful feedback is always welcome.
Enjoy.
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The sun clears the treetops and its warmth tickles the water from my body. It is going to be hot. I don't want to stiffen up sitting here re-living events that feel as if they happened to someone else.
If I sit here any longer I'll be stiff and depressed. I order myself to get up but the light dancing across the ocean is hypnotic. I smile remembering our pirouettes in Ann's tiny bathroom as we shaved each other's bodies, everything but the hair on our heads and my armpits. The look of outrage on the face of Ann's roommate when she found us naked in front of the TV flashes through my mind and I laugh out loud. No one is around and even if they were I don't care. I'm past worrying that people may think I'm a loon.
I had not lied, technically, when I told Amy that Ann and I had never had a threesome. I never said we hadn't fuck in front of a third person. That is a different matter all together.
I jog the rest of the trail, stopping at each station, my mind and body on autopilot. The fitness trail ends at the beach in front of the resort. The poolside bar is closed indicating that it's not yet 10:00 am. From the angle of the sun and the sparsely populated pool chairs, it is probably not even 9:00 am yet.
I drop my dry bag on a chair, push my shoes off with my toes and wade into the pool. When the water reaches my waist, I dive under. I swim to the ledge below the higher pool. I sit and let the water cascade over my shoulders and the back of my head. I'm stalling. I hope to see Amy and Chad pad their way around the pool, heading to their own room. I'm too impatient to stall for long.
I wander over to the pool locker room, strip and shower quickly using the effective, if not high end, body scrub dispensed from equally effective, if not high end, dispensers that dot the wall. I'm vaguely disappointed that I don't spot Kei poking around. He is surfing or just not working today. He is one of the islands endlessly supply of dudes who are on the downhill end of their thirties but content to work just enough to surf.
Kei spends more time than is needed tidying up the shower room, at least when I'm the only one in it. Though signs entreat everyone to shower before entering the pool there is hardly ever anyone in here. Coming up from the beach, everyone rinses off under one of the showers that punctuate the sidewalk leading to the pool. Those in the pool simply return to their rooms. I've never seen anyone shower before entering the pool.
The shower room and Kei are repeat players in my fantasy life. Alas, the fantasy will remain fantasy. The risk of getting walked in on is too high. I would never risk fucking around with him at the resort. I don't need the extra guilt of feeling I got him fired.
Someone like Kei can always find work. He's had a couple decades to network, sitting atop his board, killing time and waiting for the next off the Richter wave. Not everyone saddling a board is a surf bum, some own bars or businesses or just need their yards mowed. Most are happy to lend a hand when a fellow surf addict is getting worked by life. Even so, I don't want to cause the guy any trouble. Besides I could be totally wrong about his checking me out - but I don't really believe so.
Towels are NOT to be taken away from the pool area, according to yet another sign plastered to the wall. I do. I don't see what the big deal is. I bring them back in the afternoon when I come back down. I tuck a towel around my waist and swing by the pool chair to pick up my stuff. I pass Kei. Son of a bitch. I consider turning around, pretending I forgot to shampoo and get back in the shower.
Maybe I'll even say something to him. Something like, "Forgot to wash my hair." I'll wag my head in faux disgust as I say it.
It's not a bad idea. It's not a bad idea because it is so patently ridiculous. He'd have to be too fried to find his way to work in order to buy a weak ass excuse like that. He'd have to know I was coming on to him. But I would still have plenty of room for righteous indignation if I was wrong and he got pissy about it.
I wait too long. He comes walking back through the covered walkway with a coil of green garden hose over his shoulder. I pick up my stuff. Nod. He nods and I make my way toward the stairs.
When I open the door, Amy and Chad are milling around the living room, looking for scattered pieces of clothing.
Amy has her top on but no bottoms, which I find distracting. Chad is still nude, also distracting.
"Where you been?" Amy chirps. "I've never been walked out on by someone when I was at their place."
I set the dry bag on the counter. As I enter the living room, I pull my towel away and pretend to dry my hair.
"Didn't walk out. I went for my morning swim and run. Left a note." My cloaked head nods toward the table and the note pinned by a burly looking koa wood salt grinder. "You guys taking off?"
It is Chad that answers.
"Yeah. I want to get cleaned up and we have seriously depleted your towel supply bubba. Plus, I'm starving."
I limit my reply to a nod as I let the towel drape across my shoulders. I'm not sure how I want to proceed. I'm not even sure I care how this proceeds. A nod is sufficient at this point.
Amy locates her bikini bottom. I watch her wiggle her fantastic ass into the skimpy bit of fabric. Chad returns from the bedroom, board shorts in place.
"It feels like we're leaving half our shit," Amy says as her eyes sweep the room. She looks at me, smiles. The smile seems genuine. "Oh well, I'm sure we'll see you around, just dump it in a corner and I can grab it later."
I nod my agreement. She surprises me by rising up on her toes to kiss my cheek. She surprises me more when she lightly grabs my dick.
"Don't forget condoms. You might need them."
Chad contents himself with a "later dude" which does not irritate me as much as it normally would.
When the door closes, I drop my towel on the table. I end up eating my egg and toast standing over the sink. I finish off the OJ, not bothering to dirty a glass, consider making coffee and decide not to.
I brush my teeth, look at my computer and decide there is no realistic hope of salvaging anything from my Asia bet. I could check my email. I could surf the net for news or for porn. None of the those options sound interesting enough to be worth the time it would take to open the laptop and log on.
I grab the dry bag off the counter and walk out onto the patio. I'm still naked. I pull out my shoes and slap the soles together over the railing, knocking the sand off them and drawing the attention of the early pool goers. Good. I drop my shoes and turn the dry bag inside out, shaking the sand out of it. I drape the bag upside down over an arm of one of the chairs. Grimacing at the clingy chill of my wet trunks, I pull them on, shove the key card for the room into the Velcro pocket, hug the mound of pool towels to my chest and head back down to the pool.
Kei is behind the over grown kiosk that houses the pool toys for rent, beach shoes and sunscreen for sale and the towels for the pool. I dump my double armful of towels in the canvas hamper that sits there, already reeking of sunbaked chlorine.
"You know you aren't suppose to remove the towels from the pool area sir."