My wife and I never knew how fulfilling a resort stay could be.

My wife, Lara, and I checked into a beautiful, very expensive country resort in Vermont. It was late Spring, and the grounds were covered with blossoming bushes. We were there for what we hoped would be a really romantic three-day weekend.

We reserved a ground-floor room on the mountain side of the resort. Those rooms had small patios instead of balconies like the upper stories. The bellman, Norm, showed us the sliding glass door to the patio, and said to keep it locked when we weren’t in the room. He explained that the opening in the hedge that partially shielded the patio was designed so that we not only had a view of the mountain, but also had direct access to the hiking trails that linked the three resorts in the area.

“Occasionally hikers use the benches in the resort’s patios to rest for a moment if the adjacent rooms look unoccupied. We haven’t had any problems with people doing so, as the trail is privately owned by the three resorts, and our clientele tended to be very upscale. I recommend being as safe as possible, though.”

He clicked the lock and said, “You know. Just in case.”

Norm showed us the maps of the trails, and explained that between the three resorts there were several really great restaurants along with some casual ones.

“We already have a reservation at Jefferey’s,” I said.

“Excellent!” he replied. “It’s probably the best one. Try the dessert chef’s new creation, the spiced pears.

Pointing to the check-in package I had tossed on the coffee table, Norm said, “Did they explain your Resort Card at the front desk?”

Pulling the blue and green cards from the check-in package I said, “Well, they said they were our room keys and could be used to charge things like meals and stuff from the convenience store.”

“They’re more than that,” the Norm said proudly. “You can use them for the spa, and they work the gate at the pool and the door to the Fitness Center. Your card will open the garage gate, too. Did you know that all three of the mountain resorts have reciprocal agreements?”

“No. What sort?”

“Your Resort Card will let you pass from one property to the other, and you can even use it at the restaurants at the other two resorts. You use the pools there, too. It is your key and your resort ID. The resorts are designed so that you can hike all day without having to go to your home resort. When you feel like eating or taking a cool dip, you can go to the nearest one and use the amenities. We get as many of their guests as they get ours, so everything works out evenly.

“We just ask that you bring your own swim attire. Towels and everything else are provided at each pool and changing room.”

Lara said, “I’m lovin’ this already!”

We tipped the Norm and decided to relax.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon at the pool, and then came back to the room for a shower. We sat in the patio with some cold sodas until it was time to dress for dinner. The patio had two benches with a table between them. We sat together on the bench facing the opening in the hedge and spent an enjoyable half hour looking at the mountain and saying hello to the passers-by on the trail.

We looked at the trail maps in the check-in package and planned a couple of hikes. We are both in our mid forties. We’re not terribly athletic, but we can both walk a country trail for hours without getting exhausted. One of the reasons we picked this hotel was do a little hiking.

It was getting towards dinner time, so we started to dress.

Lara put on a simple black dress with a pearl necklace. As she put on the necklace, she winked. I smiled, knowingly, but that is for later in this tale.

Lara’s 30B bust line and full hips were accentuated by the pencil dress, and her legs by the three inch high heels. With them, her 5’5″ frame was about three inches shorter than me. Beth’s brunette hair came down just over her shoulders and nicely framed her delicate neck and deep cleavage.

I looked into her soft, brown eyes and said, “Sweetie, you are still the sexiest woman I have ever seen.”

She said, “And you are the hunkiest hunk I have ever seen.”

“‘Hunkiest hunk?'” I said. “Talk about breaking the mood of a tender moment!”

“Your flattery caught me by surprise, Honey. It was the first thing that popped into my head,” she said sheepishly.

“I got something I can pop in your head after dinner,” I leered.

I had put on my sport coat and slacks by then.

Lara said, “‘Pop’ my ass. Put on your tie and let’s go. I’m hungry, hunk.”

I laughed as I put on my tie and we left for dinner.

Jefferey’s, the resort’s famous steakhouse, was owned by Chef Jefferey Whittenstone. He was not only a world-class chef and master of all things meat, but he was known for being one of the most demanding chefs in the business. His pastry and dessert chefs had to be among the finest in the industry, and he expected them to constantly create new sensations.

We were a little early, so we sat in the lounge and had a drink. Lara had a martini, and I had a single malt scotch, Glendronach 15-year-old.

The meal was incredible, and so was the wine we ordered with it.

The steaks were nothing short of sensuous! My ribeye was cooked to medium rare perfection. Its dry-aged flavor was as good as I had ever experienced, and it was so tender that I didn’t need a steak knife to cut it.

Lara’s filet was juicy and tender to a fault. She teased me with a bite when she held out a morsel on the end of her fork. As I tried to bite it, she moved it back just a little. When I stopped to figure out what her game was, she slowly touched the piece of steak to my upper lip and coated it with its juice.

She pulled the fork back a little, saying, “Taste the juice before you bite into the steak.”

I ran my tongue over my lip as instructed.

“Incredible! The smoke from the grill, the fatty juice from the meat and the light touch of seasoning are all there in one simple lick.”

She put the fork back to my mouth, and I took the morsel with my teeth.

“Oh,” I sighed. “Mine is great. Yours is even better.”

Every bit of the meal was that good. The asparagus with Béarnaise sauce, the mushrooms sautéed in marsala, and the fresh-baked French bread with sweet butter were all sheer perfection. We expected good food, but that meal was one of those rare ones where everything is so good that you wish you could lick the plate.

We don’t normally drink very much. The wine was so well paired with our steaks, though, that we finished the whole bottle in spite of our pre-dinner drinks.

The spiced pear desert that Lara ordered at our Norm’s suggestion involved spiced pears poached in cream and rum over house-made vanilla ice cream.

“Wow! He really knew what he was talking about,” she said. “Sam, this is finger-licking good.”

To prove the point, she scooped up a finger-full of the sauce and held it out for me to taste.

Normally that would have been out of place for us, especially in an elegant restaurant. The pre-dinner cocktails and the wine had gotten to both of us a little, and I leaned over and sucked the sauce off her finger. It was fantastic!

I leaned a little closer to her and whispered, “I would like to get a pint of the sauce to go so I can lick it off a little more than your finger.”

She smiled and whispered back, “There are a few ‘licking places’ I have in mind for starters.”

I used my Resort Card to pay for the meal, and we headed back to our room. Jefferey’s was a five minute walk from our room. We strolled casually back, arm-in-arm. The resort had a lot of little odd corners and nooks where guests could sit and look at the mountain and the valley below.

We found a deserted one and used it for a little romance. I took Lara in my arms.

“I was serious back in the room. I still think you are the sexiest girl I have ever known.”

She looked up into my eyes.

“I love it when you say that. After all these years, I still believe you are the perfect man for me.”

We kissed for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet moment in each others’ arms.

“Let’s continue this back in the room,” I said.

With that, we walked the rest of the way back and entered the room.

Before I could turn on the lights, she grabbed my hand, led me to the bed and sat me down. The Moon was full, and the room was flooded with its light. I could see her reach for her zipper as I quickly took off my coat and tie.

She asked, “Hon?”


“Menu? You pick tonight.”


“Menu” is shortcut for the sex menu we invented during our marriage. Sometimes she would let me pick the selection, and sometimes I would let her. It was like ordering off a Chinese menu.

“Column A” referred to our attire. It included slips, half-slips, panties, stockings, garter belts, bras, and accessories (velvet ribbon choker, dangly earrings, high heels, etc). Well, that is, for her.

For me Column A consisted of me being naked or having on shorts to start. Lara never wanted anything else, except for one time on a cruise ship when she wanted to watch me do a striptease out of my tux. It didn’t really turn out to be that sexy, and after that, it was just “naked” or “shorts.”

“Column B” meant just physical sex. The items in Column B included a straight fuck (missionary or cowgirl), oral sex, mutual masturbation and so on. The menu required that Column B always start with an appetizer of extended foreplay or a taste of something from Column C. That was understood.

“Column C” meant voyeurism and fantasies: a trip to Fantasy World with the other putting on a show. Well, uh, that’s not exactly accurate. It meant me masturbating while she put on a show until she climaxed. I love to watch her doing something sensual and then masturbating, and she just loves getting me horny and watching her do it.

She said it made her feel desired, and I always told her that she was.

Colum C fantasies included bedroom sex, public sex, sex while someone watches through a window, sex where someone stumbles upon us some place where we had thought we were in private . . . well, you get the Idea.

Ah, Fantasy World! I made up stories about situations where people could watch her, and she loved every word. The wilder the situation, the more she loved it. But they were only stories. I knew she would be mortified if anyone but me actually saw her naked, let alone masturbating. The stories drove her wild, though, and she usually had an orgasm while I was telling them to her.

The reason I was such a successful storyteller is that most of the stories were based on her teenage masturbation fantasies.

She described those fantasies years ago.

“Whenever my sister was not around, I would go to our bedroom and masturbate with my hairbrush. I would imagine men standing around me, rubbing on their cocks and ejaculating as I came.

“Sometimes I would imagine the men touching me or licking me,” she confessed.

Any time we fucked and she was having a hard time reaching climax, all I would have to do would was stand up and watch her while she masturbated. If I even leaned over as if to lick her belly or thighs, she would often cum before my mouth ever touched her. It was really great to have a reliable “ejector button” whenever we needed to finish and she couldn’t seem to.

She told me about those fantasies well before we were married, and it brought me closer to her knowing that she was willing to share something so intimate with me. What I didn’t know at the time was that another level to those fantasies had developed.

After we were married for a few years, she finally confessed something else to me.

“Honey, there’s something that I want to share with you, and I hope it excites you as much as it does me.”

“Believe me. You have my undivided attention,” I said with anticipation.

“For some time now, I have been fantasizing about having women watch and touch me, too.”

That had hit me like a bombshell! Like most guys, I sometimes thought about a threesome, but hearing my wife say that she fantasized about it, too, made me grab her.

“Excite me?” I asked. “Hell, just your telling me is just about to make me cum!” I said as I tore her clothes off and fucked her right there.

True to my word, I came fairly soon. Too soon. It was so soon that I had to put a finger in her pussy while I watched her masturbate.

I decided to try out this new Column C menu item right away.

As she rubbed on herself, I said, “How would you like to have a woman’s hands stripping of your clothes while I watch her doing it to you?”

“Oh, yeah!!”

“She’s going to put her hands on your breasts and caress you through the silk of your slip.”

“I want that. I want her to touch me. Make her lick my breasts!” she panted. “Oh. Yeahhhh!”

She responded as I expected, and a few more comments about a woman licking her breasts and caressing her body were all it took to bring her to a gasping, screaming climax.

“Ohhh. Lick me! Touch me! I want to feel it nowwww! Ahhhhh, yeahhhhhhh!”

We sat and cuddled after that session. I asked her where the heck that fantasy had come from.

“You know Carmen and Helen, right?” she asked.

“The two lesbians at your firm? Yeah, I met them and their partners at the company picnic and at the Christmas party. They seemed nice.

“Hey! Wait a minute! Don’t tell me you did it with one of them!”

“No, nothing like that, silly. You know I would never cheat on you! I’m surprised you even thought that!”

She gave me a playful punch on the arm.

“Sorry. My mind was so full of erotic possibilities, and that just popped out. So where did you get the idea?”

“Okay,” she continued, “everyone at work knows they are lesbians, but it’s only because they openly bring their partners to company events. They are smart and hardworking. They are great to be around and their sexual orientation is never an issue.

“I really love them as valuable employees and good friends, and would never bring up their sexuality in the workplace.

“Carmen is one of the paralegals who do research for me, you know. One day about two months ago when I was feeling horny at work, but was unable to do anything about it at my desk, she came in to give me the brief on a case we were trying the next week. As she handed me the folio, a couple of papers slipped out and fell on the floor. She knelt down near me to pick them up. She was wearing one of those tops with a straight neckline.”

She drew her fingers across her chest to show the size of the opening at. I nodded and said I knew the kind of top she was talking about.

“Like your yellow summer dress.”

“Yes. That’s it. Well, kneeling in front of me like that, I got a good look at her breasts. She was wearing a light blue bra, and I could see all the way down to her waist.”

“Into downblouse erotica now, are we?” I joked.

To my surprise, she said, “Uh, yeah, I guess I am. Looking at her breasts hanging there in front of me got me even hotter. I could imagine her partner, Paula, caressing them. It made me still hotter.

“When she got up, handed me the folio and left, I had to go to my bathroom and rub on myself until I came! While I did it, I fantasized about watching those breasts while she watched me rub on my pussy. It was the first time I had ever thought about masturbating in front of a woman, and I couldn’t believe how hot it made me.”

“It’s a good thing partners at your firm have bathrooms in their offices,” I commented, “because fingering yourself in the public bathroom might have attracted attention.”

She nodded in agreement.

“And I can’t believe how hot it’s making me right now,” I added.

Lara smiled and started stroking me as she continued.

“I began to have thoughts about what it would like for me to masturbate while Carmen or Helen watched. When I masturbated alone or made love to you, I would often think about those women watching me and maybe taking off my clothes and touching me. It always made me cum fairly quickly, too. I was pretty sure I could never actually do it, but thinking about it is completely erotic. After a while I added mutual fondling where another woman and I caressed each other. It took me a while to get comfortable enough with it to tell you.”

“Oh, Lara, that’s so hot! I can see it in my head right now!”

“So, you would like to see a woman undress me, lay me on the bed and watch me masturbate in front of her?”

“Ah. Fuck yeah. Hot . . .”

“And what would you think about her touching me? Maybe with her hand on my bra? How about her hand under my slip?”

“I . . . think-nk-nk it’s . . . Ohhhh! Yeahhh!”

I discovered that she had also found an “ejector” button for me, as well, as I came in her hand as she was talking.

After that, any time I was having trouble getting off, Lara would whisper in my ear something like, “Helen is downstairs right now. I’m going to bring her up, and you can watch us slowly take off our dresses and caress our bodies through our slips.”

She never had to make it much past the “slip” part before I came. Both of us had a fetish for silky slips, half slips, camisoles and demi-bras. I kept Lara well stocked in them, and she loved to wear them while we were making love or watching each other masturbate. I loved the sensuous feel of her body through the silky material, and she thoroughly enjoyed my looking at her in them.

Over time, we “invited” other women we knew into our fantasy world, and even just made some up.

The Menu is also a handy tool when “shopping.” If we are in a lingerie shop, all ether of us has to do is hold up an item and say to the other, “Column A?” A thumbs up means she tries it on. A thumbs down means it goes back on the rack.

The same thing applies when we are searching for new characters to inhabit Fantasy World. If one of us spots a hot woman, asking the other “Column C?” is answered with either a nod of the head or a shake. No one else knows what the hell we are talking about, so we can even do it at parties!


Now I was sitting on the bed at the resort thinking about what I wanted that night.

I could see her running her hands up and down her body over the dress while I deliberated, and she could see me getting aroused.

I said, “Forget Column A. You’re already wearing it. I think I want Column B, heavy on the foreplay.”

“The dress,” I said. “Take it off.”

“Oooo. Sweetie wants a strip show and pussy tonight. I like that! One main course from Column B and a taste from Column C. Kinky!”

She reached up and pulled the dress from her shoulders. As she slid it down, I could see that she was wearing a lacy black demi-bra and a silky black half slip.

“I hope that’s the one with the slit up the back. See that chair? I’m planning on bending you over it and using that slit.”

The slit was trimmed in soft lace that matched the lace on her bra. The feel of either of them whenever I fondled her in them drove me wild! Feeling the silky slit on my dick and balls while I pumped her from behind was even better!

She replied, “You’re in luck. I’ll bend over so far that you can see me with my fingers on my pussy, and when you’re hard, we’ll do it with the slip still on.”

God, did she know just how to push my buttons!

She swayed while her hands played over her body. She caressed her breasts and slowly moved down her torso and then put her hand inside the waistband of the slip. I could see her hand working under the nylon.

She turned around and bent over, and in the moonlight I could see her hand massaging the crotch of her panties through the now-open slit in the slip. She worked herself for several minutes, and I watched with my hand in my shorts.

Finally, I walked over to her. She turned around and slid her hand down my shorts. To her satisfaction, by penis was rock hard. She pulled my shorts all the way down, and I stepped out of them as she gave my penis a teasing lick as her face passed by. It sent a shudder through my body, and I stood her up.