La Casa De Jodienda

This is a true story.

It was a dark and stormy night. OK, not really, but it may as well have been. It was the first day of the return leg of an awful bi-directional cross-country move in our box truck. The driving itself was only mildly unpleasant; it was the unrelated circumstances forcing the moves behind the misery.

The trip west originated in Tampa, where we met my late father's partner at their former home, to pack and move her belongings to her son's house in central California. Dad had passed just two weeks previous, so the mourning was somewhat raw. Once packed, Gloria started her drive ahead of us since we were going to be much slower due to the truck's speed governor. Though plodding, our journey was uneventful; five days later we met her at her son's house, quickly unloaded, then headed north to San José.

Truck empty, we arrived at my mother-in-law's house that evening to retrieve our furniture and other belongings that were remaining from an abortive attempt to move into her downstairs apartment. Cindy's mother was a real piece of work whose life purpose seemed to be making everyone around her miserable. I didn't know that when agreeing to make the move in the first place, in a misconception that the frequent rancor between Cindy and her mother was the usual mother-mature daughter dynamic. I had moved there six months earlier to setup our household and move the trappings of my consulting business. While mother-in-law's attempts to make me a personal slave didn't help matters, there were other, more serious business considerations that forced the decision to return to Springfield.

After three uncomfortable -- "Gee thanks, Mom" -- days packing and loading, we head back south towards I-10. The shortest way home was a tossup between I-40 and I-80, but it's December and we were in no mood to wrestle a loaded truck through winter weather in the mountains. The I-10 routing was a reasonable choice, although it added an extra day of travel.

It was a

really

good choice, as it happened.

I-10 passes by a southern desert resort we enjoyed previous to this trip. Even in mid-December, daytime high temps are in the 70s or 80s, so time off relaxing in the warm-but-not-too-warm sunshine would be welcome relief from a stressful journey and its circumstances. It was the middle of the week and this particular resort was usually quiet on weekdays, so in the return trip planning I made reservations for two nights at

La Casa de Jodienda

.

For those of you about to run to a Spanish-English dictionary, I'll save you the time since you're unlikely to find the meaning in a proper academic reference. The literal translation is "The House of Fucking". You see, this was a swinger resort.

Cindy and I are nudists. In fact, our first date was at a nudist resort. But to be sure, that doesn't automatically imply "open to any and all sex," it means we enjoy outdoor activities in the buff, frequently in social settings. However, occasionally we add spice to our relationship with a little swinging, and as much as we had just been through, this was as good an opportunity as there could possibly be to exorcise our demons with some serious adult playtime.

Like I said, weekdays were slow at

La Casa

. With good reason, even mid-week and off-season the cost of an overnight stay was in the "exclusive" price range. We knew that, obviously, but on the other hand it dramatically increased the relative safety by discouraging the seedy, seamy clientele we had to defend ourselves against at the lesser venues frequented early in our relationship. It felt great to be free to explore the limits of our sexual expression without having to constantly look back over our shoulders.

So we had the place to ourselves when we arrived, which was great. While we do like to "party" sometimes in the carnal sense, we are very, very selective and prefer more intimate... uh... intimacy. This over-selectivity and preference for at least a little interpersonal chemistry usually culminates in no swapping of sweat, saliva or other important body fluids. Big gatherings of writhing naked bodies characteristic of weekends at swinger venues are not our cup o' tea.

I cracked the roll-up door on the truck enough to grab our overnight bags, wrestled with the courtyard gate into the complex one more time, and dropped our stuff into the room. Cindy had started to undress, but was waiting for personal supplies in the luggage to freshen up before going outside to recline by the pool. While she was in the bathroom I also started to change clothes into the recommended attire for the resort: nude. Who were we to buck the preferred social protocol at this establishment?

It was late, so after a few minutes alone in the communal hot tub, we retired to the room. Another couple checked-in maybe an hour after we arrived, but they kept to themselves. The resort was also a favorite place for one-on-one trysts because of its overt sexual vibe, so it was no surprise we didn't see them after check-in. We were exhausted from the driving and playing amateur moving company, so there was no interest in much of anything other than crashing that night.

We slept in, rolling out of bed around 10 or so. The resort served a continental breakfast, and given there was nobody else around the hosts held it for us. Even in this setting we dress for sit-down meals, I put on shorts and a tee and Cindy found a strapless babydoll in her bag. We shuffled over to the dining area for coffee, tea, pastries and fruit, and then afterwards back to the room to shed our clothes.

We grabbed towels and headed out to the deck for sunning. I sternly cautioned Cindy about sunblock. On our prior trip to

La Casa

she neglected same, and after losing track of time spread out on a chaise she was an untouchable lobster for the remainder of our stay. "Thanks a bunch, dear."

It wasn't long before another couple entered the courtyard from the parking lot. They were attractive to both of us, so we were intrigued. He was in his 40s, tanned, nicely built, with evidence of a mild workout routine; she was 20-something, cute, petite and pleasantly curvy. Cindy and I agreed that we wouldn't throw either one of 'em out of our bed.

They checked-in, took their light bags to their room, emerging naked with towels to spend time on the sundeck. At that moment I was cooling off in the pool, motioned Cindy to come over to talk, and in

sotto voce

informed her, "Uncut. Nice size, too." Wow, did that get her attention! Uncircumcised is a fetish of hers, and she frequently comments about a former boyfriend she enjoyed, a nice Jewish gentleman who was miraculously uncut. I'm circumcised, to our loss.

We adjusted our lounges to be in a better position to chat them up.

He was a commercial private pilot, she was an administrative assistant, and they only had a few hours there, it was a day rental for the room. Without direct mention, it was pretty clear they were there for a tryst while his plane was laying-over for his client's meeting.

They laid their towels down on the deck to soak up a little sun. Once on their mats the young lady started to fondle his foreskin, and Cindy took special notice. Our pilot rose nicely to the occasion. While Cindy is not the "smack her lips" type of flirt, I could see the expression on her face that she wanted some.

His date went into her little bag of supplies, pulling out a mini-vibrator, inserting it under his foreskin and moving it around to stimulate the head. We were puzzled

and

fascinated, having never seen or heard of this before. They did this for a while with his cock jerking enticingly, and I asked Cindy if she was interested. I really didn't have to ask, it was obvious. Her interest was so apparent I was starting to get hard at the anticipation of what was shortly to happen here.

I love my wife deeply and she returns in kind if not more, so I have no qualms about taking advantage of opportunities to see her richly pleasured even when not by me. This was such an opportunity. There was never a passing thought she would be turned down by her object of desire. Aside from this being a swinger resort where open exchange was encouraged, Cindy is stunningly gorgeous, tall, sleek, clearly of Scandinavian descent, with flowing long blonde hair, and her cleanly-shaved pussy serves to accent her breathtaking curves that much more. Couple this with a friendly, welcoming personality, for any man to turn her down regardless of circumstances would be insane. Besides, I caught glances of his enjoying Cindy's body while his paramour was playing with his cock.

I whispered, "Go ask her if it would be okay for you to play with him."

"Are you sure?" she responded as her eyes widened in excitement.

"Yes, go ahead. I noticed."

So Cindy rose from the chaise, took the two or three steps over, and softly asked his date if she could touch, mindful of proper swinger etiquette. "Sure, why not?" was her response as she scooted aside. Cindy knelt on his towel, taking his shaft in-hand. She slid his foreskin up and down

very

slowly, countless times, feeling for the ridges, bumps and protruding veins. Watching the ecstasy in her cock worship -- another man's cock, at that -- was incredibly erotic. I was certainly enjoying her enjoying him.

He whispered something to Cindy, and they both arose from the towel. "You OK with this?" was the glance in my direction. I tilted my head down briefly to draw her eyes to my now very erect cock as to say, "Yes please!"

Cindy and our uncut pilot moved over to the nearby steps up to the clubhouse, standing face-to-face fondling each other for a few moments. I cannot remember if they kissed or how they kissed, my attention was elsewhere on their bodies. He gently turned her around, caressed her ass as fondly as I do as she reached for the steps railing for support. He then started to probe her labia with his cock, the head partly exposed from his foreskin. She reached down, pushed the foreskin back and directed his cock into her pussy while he ever so gently assisted with a little pressure. As her labia enveloped his shaft they stood still for a few seconds in the moment, and he then started to thrust slowly and deliberately.

Pause in the action! A resort groundskeeper was around the corner behind the clubhouse, trying his best not to leer. Our pilot was slightly unnerved by the uninvited voyeur, and had to stop since he was getting soft as a result. Cindy calls this situation "pushing rope". Once the gardener realized he was interrupting, he found someplace else to work. Distraction over.

Firmness regained, Cindy and the pilot resumed what was becoming a really good, decent fuck. They were coupled for what had to be fifteen or twenty minutes, climbing up and down the steps in unison amplifying the thrusting motions. It was so wonderful to watch another man's cock balls-deep in my wife.

As the two of them seemed to be nearing the end of their time coupled as one, the pilot's date

finally

approached me, apparently reluctant in the feeling that she had to balance the books, so to speak. It was really bad timing on her part. As she stepped towards me, from witnessing the incredible show I blew my load, unable to contain it any longer. "I'm so sorry, I just came," was all I could muster in response. I couldn't tell whether she was offended, or relieved she was no longer implicitly obligated to fuck me.

Given that particular distraction I did not witness the pilot shudder or otherwise tense-up from his cumming into Cindy. I did, however, safely assume from the stream of semen down her thigh he was successful. Or, rather, that

they

were successful, as out of breath as she was on returning to my side, the big, satisfied grin and the "oh my God, thank you" kiss as nice confirmation.

No chit-chat after; with a couple hasty thank-yous they picked up their stuff and hurried to their room. I didn't have any idea whether they were out of time or went for more fun with each other; by the time we cleaned up, rested and returned to the patio they were gone for the day. But we certainly had fun, and hopefully the feeling was mutual.

As it happened, later that afternoon it was revealed we had an appreciative audience in the resort office. Or, possibly, in checking out, the pilot complimented us on our willingness to share Cindy, and her heartfelt immersion in pleasuring him. So as an unexpected bonus, the resort owners were so impressed with our treating a regular guest so well we were awarded a free night's stay to be redeemed at a later date. It was a shame we lived so far away; there was never opportunity to take advantage of the offer before the resort changed hands.