Suzanne

Suzanne's breasts were large but not overly so, hips a tad wide and little blue varicose veins adorned her upper thighs, probably the result of two pregnancies. She obviously worked out because her belly had that rounded but flat look. Overall, she had a lush, feminine and motherly appearance. The girl was a MILF (mother I'd like to fuck) and oh brother did want to.

However, I didn't realize at the time, but Suzanne was checking me out too.

It was past one when the dive boat arrived back at the dock. As we disembarked, Chloe, Andy's wife and one half our dive group leadership, informed Suzanne that Paul had opted to take in the afternoon dives as well.

Suzanne was visibly crestfallen.

"Why that son of a bitch..." she said under her breath to me.

Scuba diving is the type of sport that gives one a very healthy appetite and I thought of only one thing to ask Suzanne.

"Will you have lunch with me?"

Suzanne accepted and I realized that I was spending a lot more time with his wife than Paul. After we ate a leisurely meal in the outdoor café, we sat on the dock waiting for Paul's boat to return. We had polished off two bottles of wine and we're both pleasantly buzzed.

"You ok?" I asked a sad looking Suzanne.

"Yeah, it's just...this vacation is not turning out the way I expected," she stated ruefully.

Suzanne looked absolutely lovely in the light of the late afternoon sun as it glinted off her hair and face. Gradually her demeanor lightened and she gazed at me curiously.

"I just realized that I don't know much about you," she stated with the emphasis on "you".

I hesitated, unsure where to start.

"I mean I know the basics, you were born and raised in Philly and you have a daughter that you adore attending college. But other than that..."

"Ok, what exactly do you want to know?"

"Well for starters, why are you on vacation alone?"

I stared at Suzanne and all the emotions of the last several years came bubbling to the surface. I kept my emotions in check and gave her the watered down version of my separation and the circumstances leading up to it. She gazed at me with pity.

"You're such a, well at least on the surface, seem like a nice man," she stated with sincerity.

"Thanks but I can be one ornery, crabby old fart sometimes," I warned her.

"You hardly look like an old fart for I'm guessing, someone in their mid forties?"

"Wrong! I'm fifty four."

The look of surprise on Suzanne's face was priceless.

"No friggin' way!" She exclaimed.

"I attribute it to good genetics, my dad's side of the family,"

"You sure you don't have a painting stashed away that's getting older..."

"Nah, nothin' that diabolical," I answered.

At that moment, I heard the sound of a boat horn as it signaled its entry into the break water. I bade Suzanne farewell and didn't see hide or hair of either of them until the next morning.

Paul was adamant about deep diving and Suzanne was my established dive buddy. The same thing happened, Paul went on the afternoon dive trip and Suzanne was my lunch date. Again, we waited on the dock for Paul but she was really steamed about his total lack of consideration for her. She was fed up and planned on confronting him when he returned.

Later that night, I was preparing to eat solo at the beachside Grille when I walked past Suzanne's patio and saw her sitting alone on a chair, her head in her hands.

"Hey Suzanne, it's me Rick, everything ok?"

Suzanne looked at me and in the diffuse light of evening I saw the melancholy expression and tears. I walked over to her and when I was close enough she stood and embraced me, crying her heart out.

"It's so fucking awful, all we do is fight. I'm sick of it!" she declared.

"What happened?"

"After Paul came back, I tried to get him to talk but he said he was tired and wanted to take a nap. He was in the shower and I walked in and joined him. I wanted him to fuck my brains out but he insisted on...oral. Right after he falls asleep, leaving me well...hanging...he woke up an hour ago and announces that he's going clubbing downtown with Andy and a bunch of guys on the dive trip," Suzanne inhaled sharply and I was shocked by her frank words.

"I blew up at him and we had a knock down drag out screaming match. Anyway, he announces he's going regardless and to hell with me and the trip and..." She slumped against me too overwrought to go on.

I held Suzanne in my arms, her head against my chest not quite knowing what to do. Instinctively, I realized she needed to vent and wasn't seeking any advice from me. However, the sensation from her body was warming me in areas that were long overdue for some attention.

As Suzanne's demeanor slowly returned to normal, I suggested ordering in.

"Thanks, I don't feel much like socializing tonight."

I was dialing the in room phone when Suzanne interrupted me.

"I don't want to spoil your evening, don't you have plans?" she asked.

I shook my head and she smiled weakly but with gratitude.

The in room supper was a quiet affair and I realized that Suzanne didn't want to be alone and enjoyed my company. Gradually, her mood lightened and we laughed and talked in a carefree manner.

The next morning I noticed the wind was stronger than usual, bending the palm trees with each gust. At the dive shop, wind advisories were posted. The seas were choppy and I truly hated getting in the dive boat under those conditions.

At the dock, I saw Suzanne and Paul arguing and I surmised that Paul was going out diving while Suzanne wanted him to stay behind with her. I walked over to them and an idea popped into my head.

"Hey guys," I greeted them.

Paul and Suzanne turned to face me and the look of anxiety on Suzanne's face was telling.

"Headed out today?" I asked Paul.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" he exclaimed and glared at Suzanne.

"I'm renting a jeep and want to do some exploring, mind if Suzanne comes with me? Of course, that's if she wants too." I asked humbly.

Suzanne brightened.

"I'd love to!" she declared and sneered at Paul.

As soon as Paul was on the dive boat, we walked down the pier and I noticed that Suzanne's demeanor had changed since last night. She was much more defiant in contrast to her downhearted attitude the previous evening.

In the hotel lobby, the concierge took care of the details and I gave Suzanne a list of items she would want to bring on our expedition. As we waited for the Jeep, I told her about several secluded and beautiful beaches on the northern side of the island with good waves for body surfing.

Suzanne was delighted and had a childlike inquisitiveness about the locale. She was attired in her two piece bathing suit with a matching wrap around her waist. As we drove her blonde hair flew seductively in the wind.

I stopped at the first location I had considered and as I predicted, it was deserted. We walked on the path through the dunes and Suzanne audibly gasped.

"Oh my God...Rick...it's beautiful," she gushed.

The waves were two to three feet in height and were breaking in long perfect tube patterns. We spread out a blanket and I opened the cooler provided by the hotel concierge. The cold Corona was inviting and we sat and gazed with wonder at the extraordinary view.

"This is what I envisioned I'd be doing with Paul," she stated, breaking the mood.

The incredible setting was why I loved vacationing in the Caribbean. With her fair skin, I was concerned about sunburn for Suzanne but she was liberally applying sun block. I could tell she was itching to get into the water.

"Want to try it? Body surfing I mean," I asked.

"Can you teach me? Do you know how?"

"My dear Suzanne, I've been body surfing since my dad taught me. I was all of five at the time."

We waded out to the first line of breakers. The warm blue/green water swirled around our hips and I instructed Suzanne on how to swim past the wave at its apex and judge when it would break. The pull of the wave should coincide with knifing ones body in the water and settling about half way down. Done properly, one could ride until the wave lost most of its energy and petered out near shore.

Suzanne was a quick study and in no time at all was matching me, riding the same waves. We took numerous breaks to imbibe the cold brew and ate the tasty sandwiches in the cooler. During one break I noticed Suzanne trying unobtrusively to stare at my body.

"If you don't mind me asking, but how did you get into such good shape," she asked coyly.

"I'll tell you the truth but I hope you won't think less of me," I stated.

I told Suzanne how three years before my separation, I was unhappy with my appearance. At the gym, I seemed to be making very little progress and I was a dedicated five day a week attendee. A few older men near my age group had very defined muscular physiques. One day I worked up enough courage and asked a fellow I saw on a regular basis, how he achieved his look. He appeared apprehensive and asked if we might speak afterward in the parking lot. I couldn't imagine why he was being so secretive.

As we stood next to my car, he revealed the answer and frankly, I was stunned.

"Ya gotta remember, at our age our bodies produce only half the testosterone than at age thirty. In order to build muscle, the body needs testosterone. You've seen Suzie the bodybuilder who trains at the gym?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's got bigger biceps, shit bigger everything than me," I stated with wonder.

"How do you think she got them? She could train till the cows came home but without some "test", she'd never achieve that degree of muscularity,"

I slowly realized that the muscular body I desired was contained in a syringe. At my friend's insistence, I researched on line everything I could find on the subject. Success was dependent on the intensity of training, diet and the type of steroid used.

As an older individual, it was necessary to stick with milder compounds. Because their illegal in the States, I took my chances by ordering from an overseas pharmacy. After one year, my body had shed ten pounds of fat and my appearance was vastly improved. It was during the second year that I achieved the kind of muscular development that satisfied me.

Suzanne was staring at my upper arm. I flexed for her and my bicep swelled to a nice peak. Although I detested this type of display because I thought it seemed utterly conceited, I wanted to impress her.

"Go ahead, feel it, it won't bite," I encouraged her.

Suzanne's palmed the bump on my arm.

"God, it's so hard!" she gasped.

I pumped my arm a couple of times with her hand in place to give her the overall impression.

"Wanna surf some more?" I asked.

'Yeah!" she replied enthusiastically, and taking my hand we ran into the water.

The combined effects of the exotic setting, beer and Suzanne's full sexy body stirred something dormant inside of me. I gazed at her, my need building and I was positive that with the right amount of coaxing, we would be in each others arms.

The wave heights had increased over the last hour and the surf was more ragged, rough. I signaled Suzanne that I was heading in and she pointed to a wave she hoped to catch. It was a big one, at least four feet high but she was too low in the trough. End over end she tumbled until she came to a sprawled out stop near shore.

When I ran over to her I noticed that Suzanne's top had been ripped from her body. Slowly she raised herself, shaking the cobwebs from her head. I gently held her arms and brought her to her feet. It was only when she saw me staring at her chest that she realized what had happened. But, she made no move to cover herself and we started searching for her garment.

We found it swaying back and forth in the relentless surf.

"It's ruined," she stated. The snap was bent and useless.

My gaze was drawn to her breasts, I couldn't help myself. They were a "C" or "D" cup with some sagging. The areolas were broad with long cigar thick nipple ducts in the center and the milky whiteness of the surrounding skin was seductive. She had obviously breast fed her boys because the sagging looked more like deflation, a common problem for nursing women.

I handed her my tee shirt but she simply put it round her neck and sat on the blanket.

"You don't mind?" she asked referring to her topless state.

"Not at all, in fact I'm enjoying the view." I hoped I didn't sound too eager.

"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"You have lovely breasts Suzanne, very ah...womanly," I said bashfully.

There was a glint, a twinkle in her eye.

"Instead of taking this 'second honeymoon', Paul and I discussed me getting a boob job but I want to have another child. I'd love a little girl, dressing her up and spoiling her. It would be pointless getting them lifted and firmed if I had another baby." She seemed wistful but there was a note of optimism in her voice as well.

Suzanne hefted each breast and gazed disapprovingly at them. But, when she looked at me, she saw the desire in my face.

"You really do like them," she exclaimed.

My face grew hot.

"Rick, you dear man, you're blushing!" she declared, and I looked away.

I hadn't felt this bashful around someone since my first sexual encounter when I was a teenager.

"How long has it been?" she asked me point blank and I understood.

"Longer than I care to think about," I answered pensively.

Suddenly I remembered the lyrics of a Crosby, Stills and Nash song;

"Love the one you're with... Don't be angry Don't be sad Don't go cryin' over good times you had... And, when you can't be with the one you want, honey Love the one you're with..."

I sat in front of Suzanne and absentmindedly sang in a very quiet voice.

"That sounds familiar." She cocked her head to one side, trying to recall the song.

Then it was if a light bulb went off in her head.

"...love the one you're with..." she trilled.

A coy expression revealed Suzanne's need, her desire and we literally fell into each others arms. With hers around my neck, I hungrily kissed her mouth and she in return. My hands were free and I tenderly squeezed and fondled her breasts. I was captivated by their fullness and weight as I held them. With care, I rolled the nipples between my thumb and forefinger, enjoying the exquisite hardness. I grazed the backs of my hands over them and she gasped her approval.

As Suzanne panted breathlessly, I lowered my head to a tit and drew the succulent firmness into my mouth. It's easy to understand why most men have a breast fixation. The beautiful orbs beckon and call us to delight in and suck like hungry babies.

The sensation of Suzanne's pebble hard flesh against my lips sent me into orbit. I was lost to the incredible pleasure that coursed through my body. I went back and forth, giving each teat my undivided attention. Sometimes, I sucked hard then soft; my tongue gently stabbed at the end of a nipple or rasped it like sand paper. Her groaning response was all the fuel I needed. Time seemed to stand still.

Finally, I stopped and stared at her nipples, swollen and purplish red from my intense suckling. Suzanne slumped against me, breathing very rapidly. I wanted to make her cum, really hard. I laid her on her back and kissed over her belly. She was pushing my head down toward her sex and I was thrilled that she wanted me eat her pussy.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I dined at my wife's "Y". But, it's like riding a bicycle once you learn you never forget. Except for a young lass from the UK who I had a brief liaison with during a Study Abroad in France, I was strictly familiar with American pussy and wondered how a Canadian might taste.

A female is a female and each has her own unique flavor or scent. I distinctly recalled the girl from the UK, Jill. Her pussy had a piquant but sweet taste of youth and I thrilled at swallowing her plentiful juices.

Suzanne didn't give me a chance to remove her bottoms as she ripped them down her legs. She propped herself on her elbows and watched as my head disappeared between her thighs. She was hairless, shaved clean. Her puffy pink lips were open and saturated with moisture. I was barely able to restrain myself and dove in for the feast.

I lapped Suzanne's saucy slit like a sex crazed Saint Bernard. Her tangy, sharp secretions were just what the doctor ordered and I ferociously licked her pussy.

"Umm...oh...umm...oh...oh..." she chanted over and over.

I gripped her flexing butt and held on for greater access, concentrating more of my efforts on the "little man in the boat". With sound of the ocean, the warm sun and the gentle breeze, I brought Suzanne to a heart stopping climax.

"Oh Jesus fuckin' H. Christ!" she bellowed.

Suzanne pounded the blanket with her fists and rewarded my gaping mouth with a quick little spray of her secretions. The girls a squirter, I marveled to myself, a first for me.

When she calmed herself, Suzanne sat up and clung to me.

"I want you, inside me, please Rick!" She begged.

At that moment I wanted nothing else but with the salt and sand clinging to our bodies and the openness of our surroundings, I wanted our affair to be something more private, more special. I knew of an intimate little hotel off the beaten path that would serve our purpose perfectly.

Suzanne agreed with my logic and hurriedly we made our way to the jeep. She was wearing my navy blue Steely Dan "Aja" tee shirt and her nipples were poking mightily against the cotton fabric.

We arrived at the hotel and luckily they had a vacancy because it was high season and most of the better resorts were booked solid. As soon as we were in the room, we kissed passionately and in no time what little clothes we wore were on the tiled floor.

The walk-in glass enclosed shower was large enough for two and we giddily soaped each others body. Suzanne's hand was skillfully sliding along the length of my rod eliciting low moans from me. She knelt on the floor and with the warm water cascading over us, held the base of my shaft running her silken tongue up and down the length.

Although it had been ages since I'd received a decent blow job, I wanted to screw Suzanne until she screamed my name. She was playfully sucking the head and tonguing the underside when I pulled her to her feet. Without uttering a word, she knew what I desired.

We lay on the bed enthusiastically kissing and I positioned myself on top of her. Suzanne's tongue plunged repeatedly into my mouth as she raised her knees and my cock head slipped along the dewy wetness of her cleft.

I raised my butt and slid my stiffie until it settled into an oily cavity. I flexed my hips and sank further into her inviting hole. Like the instructions in the sex manual for boys my folks left in my room when I was thirteen, I made little in and out movements penetrating only my cock head.

We were still kissing, clinging to each other as I leisurely pushed more of my hardness into her. The fit was just right, not too tight and not so loose that I encountered no friction at all.

We stopped kissing and Suzanne looked at me with a lustful expression.

"If you can fuck as good as you eat pussy then I'm in for one helluva afternoon."

Even though her words thrilled me to my core, I maintained an unhurried pace and was now sinking almost the entire length. Back and forth my cock reamed her soaked vagina and she was so wet squishing noises resounded in the room.

Suzanne's legs wrapped around my middle and her internal muscles clenched my invading and retreating cock. The sensation was mind boggling and an impending eruption was imminent.

The sperm roiling in my balls felt like molten lava ready to burst from a volcano. With smooth, swift precision, I drilled into her oozing hole.