Part One: Club Soleil

A gentle Caribbean breeze wafted through one of the resort’s shaded, open-air lounges, providing the assembled patrons with fleeting respite from the midday tropical heat. Ornate, curvilinear, and exquisitely crafted bamboo installations created canopies above, shielding those who sat beneath from the intense sun. It was just before noon, and the assembled guests were attired in various accoutrements – some in bikinis, short sarong wraps, and sandals, others in casual but dressier garb.

Dr. Nicole Benson sat at the long bar, perched atop one of the lounge’s tall barstools, legs crossed, nursing her boozy gin cocktail, her coupe cocktail glass beaded with condensation from the heat. She wore a pretty mauve blouse, a short, pleated white skirt, and silver open-tied heels. After glancing at her iPhone for text messages and the current time, she casually ran her fingers through her silvery, immaculately coiffed hair. Few women brook tint and cut fees above fifty pounds, but Nicole considered it part of the cost of aging gracefully. The tinting left her hair a chic and sophisticated silver, covering her otherwise salt-and-pepper gray.

Nicole was, if nothing else, consistent. Everything about the sixty-two-year-old psychologist projected understated elegance. She was the personification and embodiment of the posh-voiced English rose. Her lady-like poise and sophistication found expression in the way she dressed, the way she spoke, and the way she carried herself. She was proud of her femininity, and it showed.

Despite growing up middle class, in the pastoral splendour of a small town near Dorset, her family had moved to Southampton when she was a young girl, where she attended grammar school, hence the slightly sniff accent. Later relocating to London to attend university, the city eventually became her home.

After earning her doctorate in health psychology on the thesis topic of female sexual desire, she embarked on a career as a psychologist, opening a practice in the West End. Eventually, marriage and children followed. In her late twenties, she married Robert, a lawyer by profession. Her daughter, Amelia, was born a year after her wedding; her son, Evan, followed a year later. Her first grandchild, Sebastian – her daughter's first child – was followed by her second, when her stepdaughter gave birth to a girl, Sophia. Fiercely protective of her children and grandchildren, she remains quite close to all her extended brood.

Now in her early sixties, always a doting and affectionate mother and grandmother, she remains the sun around which her chidden and family orbit. This was far less true of her husband, Robert. When it became known that their father had embarked upon a relationship with a much younger woman, precipitating a separation from Nicole, he became somewhat estranged from his children, both of whom felt morally, ethically, and emotionally on the side of their mother.

Nicole had initially been quite shattered when Robert left her for another woman. Despite the flaws in their marriage, it was both humiliating and a jarring, life-changing event. When the tears began to subside, the older woman picked herself up, dusted herself off, and set about making a new life for herself. Her children, her friends, and her career were welcome sources of stability. 

Rather bookish and cerebral at times, Nicole remains a very loving, tactile, and physically demonstrative woman. In addition to her academic interests, she loves dance, art, music, and fashion. As a young woman, her sex drive was formidable, bordering on insatiable, and boyfriends were typically incapable of keeping pace with her in bed. A closeted but avid reader of ‘bodice-ripper’ erotic romance novels, the handsome, ruggedly masculine, conspicuously well-endowed, Heathcliff-like protagonists of those books likely left a legacy mark on her female psyche, a reality that the intelligent and self-reliant woman would be morbidly embarrassed to admit to.

As a mother, she would sometimes drive her children to distraction with her insistence on warm, maternal hugs and motherly kisses on the cheek. As a wife, she yearned to find expression to her intense need to be loved and love in the physical act of making love. Indeed, sex was like oxygen to Nicole; deprived, the attractive English rose wilted on the vine. 

Despite being in her early sixties, Nicole remained, by all accounts, a very attractive woman. Taking pride in both her femininity and her ability to please her husband, she went to great lengths to maintain her figure. She watched what she ate, maintained a steady regimen of Pilates, yoga, and visits to her ladies-only gym, and indulged in all manner of girly beautification measures – manicures, pedicures, and bikini waxes to keep her labia and pubic region tidy and neatly trimmed.

That notwithstanding, over the years her husband became increasingly aloof, both emotionally and physically distant. Her constant pleas for sex were, more and more over time, met with gentle rebuffs, something that weighed heavily on her psyche and her feminine, wifely pride. It mattered little that Robert’s penis was relatively small, Nicole yearned for touch, affection, and frequent lovemaking. The spark of what had once been a loving and close marriage had dimmed considerably. As the years progressed, she and her husband became more like siblings than man and wife.

A very private person, and although her children had long known of their parent’s marital woes, Nicole only shared her feelings of marital ennui with her closest girlfriends. To everyone else, hers seemed like a model marriage.

Despite her posh accent and lady-like reserve, there was something innately and ineffably sexy about Nicole. Perhaps it was that sensuality and zesty sexuality that lay just beneath the surface. As a young girl, she’d developed early, requiring a size 30DD bra by the time she was sixteen, drawing often unwanted attention from male admirers, young and old. As she matured, her figure continued to blossom and evolve into an hourglass shape, with voluptuous curves and lines. Her breasts had continued to swell in size well into her late forties. Post childbirth, and now in her sixties, she wore a size 34GG bra. For a woman who adores sexy lingerie – and she has three vanity drawers dedicated just to bras, panties, garters, and stockings – that meant having to shop for expensive bras in specialty lingerie boutiques catering to large cup sizes. 

Yet, despite her formidable bust, it was usually her Rubenesque derriere that garnered the most attention. With her fleshy behind and thighs, wide hips, and narrow waist, not to mention her penchant for high heels, there was little she could do to downplay a gait that was, however unintentional, almost preternaturally sexual. In a form-fitting dress, her large breasts undulating heavily within the confines of her bra, her sensuous behind and wide hips creating a provocative sashay as she walked, Nicole endured more than her fair share of rude catcalls from the lads. At sixty-two, there were beachheads of cellulite that could not be ignored, wrinkles, age lines, and areas that had succumbed to gravity; however, she remained a very handsome, well-preserved woman.  Combined with a keen eye for fashion, and never without make-up, perfume, and manicured nails, she was the embodiment of mature sophistication and understated elegance.

With a lucrative practice, a jointly owned flat in Notting Hill, and a jointly owned holiday property in Spain, Nicole was, by any measure, a relatively wealthy woman; one who stood to do rather well in her pending divorce. She had the means to maintain a lifestyle that was more than comfortable.

Perched atop her barstool, Nicole re-crossed her shapely legs, adjusting the hem of her short, flowy skirt, setting her Prada sunglasses on the bar. She took a sip of the cocktail and discreetly surveyed her surroundings. The assembled group of resort guests were almost exclusively couples. Suppressing a sigh, she was willing herself not to be self-conscious about travelling solo to a resort like Indulge. A welcome distraction from her situation came when her iPhone vibrated -- a text from her daughter, Amelia:

“Have a fabulous time, Mum! Sebastian is already asking where Nana is, lol.”

Nicole smiled, then set her mobile down on the bar next to her purse.

The bartender did a pass by to ask if she cared for another cocktail and the two slipped into a bit of idle chit-chat, the kind of conversation that came with a job that catered exclusively to tourists, all from somewhere else, all transitory. The bartender was young, relatively good-looking, and spoke with a French accent.

Still, Indulge Resort was by no means a traditional type of resort. Very expensive, exclusive, and adults-only, the expansive grounds of the resort occupied a huge swath of land on the southern tip of the island of Saint Monique in the French West Indies. With beaches on three sides, the resort was divided into three themed areas, all connected, all with their own accommodations, lounges, restaurants, shops, beaches, canopied beach beds, and pools.

Club Soleil, where Nicole was staying, was the largest, tamest, and most traditional of the three. Decidedly upscale and luxurious, with tasteful, modernist decor, her suite was nothing short of spectacular – open concept, with a retractable wall opening onto a gorgeous white sand beach and ocean vista, a private infinity pool, walk-in granite shower, a king bed, and a cushioned dais adjacent to the infinity pool.  It was, much to her chagrin and appreciation of the ironic, the last word in sexy.

Club Au Naturel, a favourite with northern and western Europeans, was the naturist area; again, with its own pools, beaches, and amenities. Clothing-optional throughout, the pools and beaches were strictly enforced as nude only.

Finally, there was Club Eros, not for the faint of heart -- an upscale swingers or “lifestyle” area, with open-air “play spaces” featuring large, raised daises where couples could have sex, while other couples were free to join in or watch. Indeed, sex between consenting adults was permitted throughout the area, including Club Eros Beach.

She and James had booked a ten-day stay at Indulge several months before James left her for one of his paralegals. Despite being non-refundable, Nicole had been set about cancelling the trip, until her girlfriends intervened and insisted that she go, anyway.

“You bloody well deserve it,” her friend Gail had said emphatically over a Sunday brunch. “The perfect way to begin a new chapter. Figurately wash that man right out of your hair. Decompress, pamper yourself, and re-calibrate. Come back a new woman.”

Persuaded by female confidantes she adored, those who had known for years that she had suffered and been marooned in a loveless and sexless marriage, Nicole had been persuaded. Ten solitary days of swimming, shopping, pleasure reading, and trips to the spa would do her good.

One afternoon, about a week before her departure, with her silver hair freshly cut and tinted, and sufficiently bronzed from trips to the tanning salon, Nicole popped into the Bravissimo boutique in Covent Garden to treat herself to some new swimwear. Feeling more daring than usual, she opted for a high-leg thong one-piece in white and a tiny thong bikini in indigo blue.   

“You rock that bikini, luv,” enthused the young female saleswoman in the fitting area, adding, “Big boobs and a fabulous booty -- you look so smashing in both.”  

After her long, connecting flight, from Heathrow to Miami to Saint Monique, Nicole hired a taxi for the last stage of her journey. The Caribbean heat felt positively delicious. After checking in, the sixty-two-year-old indulged in a short, restorative power nap, to ward off the worst of her jet lag. Waking, she stepped into the walk-in granite shower for a reinvigorating, cool water shower. Changing into lacy bra and thong panties, her low-cut blouse and short skirt, she’d slipped on her open-toed heels, fastened their ankle straps, and made her way to the main Club Soleil lounge. 

Nicole and the bartender continued to chat until duty called and he was pulled away.

Looking down at the amount of decolletage her low-cup blouse showed, and the amount of thigh left exposed by her short skirt with her legs crossed, Nicole was questioning her choice of attire when she suddenly heard a male voice to her right.

“So nice to know that I’m not the only Brit here,” came the voice.

Nicole turned and did the proverbial double take. Standing and leaning against the long bar a few stools from her was an extremely handsome young black man. Compared to her 5’ 4”, he looked to be about six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with an athletic-looking physique, judging by his form-fitting black shirt and matching black shorts. He had a dazzling smile, and gorgeous eyes, and looked like some male model having leapt off the page of some issue of GQ or Playgirl. He was also, Nicole could not help but observe, very young. She reckoned the young man to be twenty or in his early twenties, at most.

“Sorry – overheard you speaking with the bartender and detected the accent straight away,” added the young black male. “South London, and you?” 

“The West End, by way of Dorset and Southampton,” replied Nicole with polite reserve.

The two quickly struck up a conversation, or, to put it more accurately, the young man quickly struck up a conversation with Nicole. Though a little standoffish at first, given how young he looked, the older woman was quickly won over by what was a dangerous amount of charm for someone so young. Still, there was something subtly flirtatious about the way the young man chatted with her, and likely being forty years his senior, the mature beauty was inclined to play it a bit cool. In addition to being gorgeous and incredibly charming, the tall Adonis was also well-read and, as it turned out, shared Nicole’s taste in music, art, and fashion. 

“I love your shoes, by the way,” said the young black male. “Bottega Veneta? Prada? And pardon me, I’m Julian.”

“My goodness, I’m impressed,” answered Nicole. “Bottega Veneta, and a pleasure to meet you, Julian – I’m Nicole.”

Their conversation flowed effortlessly and delightfully, and before Nicole realized, almost an hour had passed. When Julian offered to buy her a drink, she was somewhat taken aback, though secretly quite flattered. She smiled, gently and politely demurring. It was still beyond her why someone so young and so attractive would be interested in conversing with a woman in her sixties, but it was all harmless, and she genuinely enjoyed their conversation. The way he made her feel like the center of his attention was uncanny in a male so young, and his complementary words somehow felt genuine. She’d only met a few men in her life that, for her, fell into a very special category – men who genuinely adored women. They’d only just met, but Nicole sensed that Julian was either a very good actor or was one of a rare breed. Either way, that kind of vibe was like catnip to women. Combined with his looks, she wagered that the queue of young ladies desiring his ministrations was long.

“So, what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing in a place like this all by herself?” asked Julian with that mega-watt smile.

“A bit of R ‘n’ R,” was Nicole’s slightly vague response. “And thank you, you’re a very sweet young man. So, my turn -- what’s a handsome young man like you doing in a place like this all by himself?”

Julian answered by saying something cryptic about him being “gifted” the trip and combining it with interviews at the local medical school, one that attracted a lot of foreign students.

After finishing her cocktail, Nicole moved to sparkling water, eventually deciding that it was time to leave. She planned to take a dip in the ocean that first afternoon, then wander into the nearby town in the evening for a little dinner and some window shopping. In truth, despite the large and conspicuous age gap, she had thoroughly enjoyed her conversation with her handsome bar companion. He was truly a disarmingly charming and personable young man, and she had even experienced a bit of a buzz of excitement when their exchanges became playfully flirtatious. Julian clearly understood how to charm an older woman. It also didn’t hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous, very nice to look at, and filled out his black shirt rather nicely. Oh, to be four decades younger, she thought to herself.  On her way out, the mature psychologist couldn’t resist the temptation to turn and look back. Another quiet shiver of delight as she confirmed Julian’s fixed gaze upon her and her mini-skirted form from across the lounge. She smiled and proffered a playful wave.

The rest of her first day passed enjoyably – a trip to the beach, a brief dip in the ocean in her one-piece, and then starting a new romance novel under one of the luxurious canopied beach beds that required a reservation. She adapted to her solo traveller situation quicker than she expected and was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable she was being by herself. Still, surrounded by couples at the beach, with the heady vibe of romance and hedonism in the air, there were moments when she was forced to admit to herself that it would be lovely to have someone to share the time with.

The older woman was also, truth be told, ravenously horny, and found herself stealing furtive glances at all the bronzed male bodies by the pool and at the beach, some, presumably Europeans, wearing incredibly brief swimsuits that left little to the imagination. That evening, as planned, Nicole changed and walked the short distance to the nearby town. It was a charming little place, with high-end shops and restaurants. The restaurants at the resort all came highly recommended; however, she felt a little adventurous that first night, and thought she might find something more authentically French in the village.

Happily, she found the perfect spot, nestled just inside a cobble-stone alleyway. “Le Pressoir” was a small, candle-lit gem that opened onto the street and looked straight out of a movie. Cozy and intimate, it was exactly what she was looking for, and the food, wine, and unobtrusive service were all fabulous. Sitting at her small table for two facing the charming, cobble-tone alley, the fragrances of tropical fauna mixed with the smell of French cuisine. The only downside was that the place and atmosphere were utterly, fatally romantic, and sitting alone at her table observing the couples in her proximity, she felt a pang of envy and longing. 

The next morning, passing reception, one of the front desk staff flagged her down and passed her a note that had been left for her: “Had such a nice time talking to you at the lounge, Nicole (beautiful name, by the way) – hope our paths cross again sometime. Cheers, Julian”

A soft smile formed at the corners of her lips as she read the note, and she felt a touch of blush on her cheeks. Julian had written his number at the bottom of the note.

‘What a cheeky young man,’ she thought to herself, still smiling.

Nicole spent another lovely day of swimming and pleasure reading, topping it off with a midday nap and a trip to the spa for a little pampering. That evening, she walked back into town, opting for a repeat at Le Pressoir rather than some other new, undiscovered spot. 

The restaurant was busier that evening, and this time she had to wait for a free table. Standing just inside the entrance, biding her time by looking over the menu posted behind a small glass case, Nicole heard a familiar voice.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

The older woman turned and saw a smiling Julian -- looking smashing in a mauve shirt and white dress shorts -- standing close behind her. Several of his shirt’s buttons were undone, exposing a smooth, muscular black chest.

“Fancy that,” replied Nicole, looking splendid in another flowy miniskirt and a pretty, low-cut halter top, an outfit that couldn’t help but accentuate her large bust, narrow waist, wide hips, and shapely legs. Her voluptuous figure was indeed just the right amount of ‘thicc’, with thighs that were meant to be clad in banded silk stockings.

“You look so nice,” gushed Julian.

“Why thank you, young man,” replied Nicole, adding with a playful wink, “Still handsome and fashionably dressed, I see.”

There was an awkward moment when the front-of-house woman informed Nicole that her table was ready, quickly mentioning to the other assembled diners, including Julian, that it would probably be a half-hour wait before another table became available.

“Would you like to join me for dinner, young man?” asked Nicole after a bit of a pregnant pause.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” asked Julian, clearly touched and excited. “That would be amazing, that’s so nice of you to offer.”

The unlikely pair were escorted to a little table in the back corner and quickly settled in. Her female radar on, the mature woman felt the discreet looks of other couples. Given the location and the island’s reputation, she could guess their assumptions – a May-December holiday romance? An older white sugar mamma of means with her sexy black boy toy? An adopted grandson? The first two made her blush, and she quickly pushed such thoughts from her mind.

With their Lillet Blanc aperitifs delivered, the two launched into another lovely conversation. Nicole was taken aback by Julian’s wise-beyond-his-years maturity and intellect. He was far too adorable for his own good, though he seemed to come by his charm and appreciation of women naturally.

Like their conversation at the lounge previously, the two talked about anything and everything, and once again the time slipped by. As the wine began to flow, and as dinner segued into coffee, Nicole found herself, much to her vexation given the incredible age gap, rather enchanted by Julian’s company. Perhaps owing to the wine, and atypical of a woman normally quite guarded about her private life, Nicole, when asked, told Julian about her recent separation, her pending divorce, her career, and her children. Julian responded in kind, disclosing aspects of his life, talking about growing up in London, and at one point disclosing the details of his last romantic encounter.

“It was a bit awkward,” explained Julian. “She was my secondary school swim team coach. I found out later she was married, so I ended it.”

Though Nicole found the revelation a little shocking, she didn’t press, wondering to herself whether the young man might have a bit of a ‘thing’ for older women.

At one point, they playfully disclosed their guilty pleasures – for Julian, Premier League football, sappy love songs, and past episodes of Sex in the City; for Nicole, lingerie, teddy bears, cosmetics, and erotic romance novels. Losing her filter at one moment, her elbow on the table, chin in the palm of her hand, the mature psychologist fixed her eyes upon Julian’s.

“You need to stop being so bloody charming and sweet,” said Nicole, suppressing a sigh.

“Sorry, but I think it’s the company,” replied Julian with a bit of a smirk.

When Nicole pressed her dinner companion to explain what he’d meant at the lounge by the trip being a gift, Julian pressed his sensuous lips together and briefly averted his gaze. The young black man’s quiet confidence suddenly seemed in check, and he was grappling with his response.

“I suppose you could say that it was a reward, from my parents, for good grades,” said Julian a little sheepishly. “They’re loaded, and they wanted me to stay somewhere posh, near the medical school where they hoped I might be accepted … later. They haven’t a clue about Indulge, they just knew that was expensive.” 

“That’s lovely,” said Nicole, confused as to why the young man was feeling so awkward. “I’m sure your parents are incredibly proud of you for graduating from university with exemplary grades.”

Julian pressed his teeth against his bottom lip and paused.

“Secondary school,” said Julian, clearly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry?” asked Nicole feeling her face and throat go flush.

“I … I recently graduated from secondary school … and did quite well.”

More than a little dumbfounded, the sixty-two-year-old woman, with a nascent crush on a certain gorgeous young black male, pressed further.

“Sweetheart, exactly how old are you?” asked the older woman, clearly afraid of the pending answer.

“Eighteen,” came Julian’s sheepish reply.

“Oh my god,” said a slightly wide-eyed Nicole, before quickly recovering her poise and appearing unperturbed.

“Well, I’m glad to know you’re old enough to drink,” said Nicole in a slightly teasing voice.

Sensing the teenager’s unease, Nicole quickly and mercifully moved the conversation in another direction. Privately grappling with the reality that she was rapidly becoming rather smitten with someone young enough to be her grandson, the older woman steered them towards topics like travel, movies, and their mutual fondness for live theatre and dancing.

“May I walk you back? asked Julian outside the restaurant afterwards. “It’s the least I can do. You really shouldn’t have paid for both of us, but thank you again. I had a great time, I love talking to you, and you’re so beautiful.”

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” replied Nicole with a mature, knowing smile; the kind of slightly teasing smile a woman flashes when she pretends to be playing hard-to-get, feigning that their male suitor’s compliments aren’t getting through. In this case, that was not so, and the older woman was not immune. Despite Julian’s shocking revelation over dinner, Nicole couldn’t tell what was tipsiness and what were the symptoms of her inappropriate, girlish crushing on her teenaged dinner date.

Stopping at the door to her suite, Nicole and Julian faced each other and exchanged smiles.

“Thank you again for dinner, Nicole,” said Julian. “I had a great time.”

“My pleasure, and so did I,” replied Nicole.

Following another pregnant pause, the mature woman’s young dinner companion cautiously went a step further.

“Can I have your number?” he asked.

“Sweetheart, I’m incredibly flattered, but I’m old enough to be your grandmother. I’m mightily tempted, but I must decline.”

“I know there’s an age gap, but I just love spending time with you,” said a dejected Julian. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I sense … I don’t know … a lovely chemistry between us.”

The young man was not wrong, but the older woman’s guarded reserve overtook her budding female infatuation.

“You’re so sweet and absolutely gorgeous, and I envy the pretty young lady lucky enough to win your heart someday, but I’m just too old for you.”

“I disagree about you being too old, but I respect your decision not to give me your number. I hope, well, I hope we can see each other again sometime.”

With that, the two said their goodnights and Julian left.

Later that evening, laying on her king bed in the nude, looking up at the bright stars in the nighttime Caribbean sky through the large skylight above her bed, the sixty-two-year-old’s thoughts drifted to images of she and Julian laying nude together in bed, his lean, muscular frame and dark skin intertwined with her own curvaceous white body.  Her mind’s eye became enraptured with images of their sensuous physical union, their tender and passionate exploration of each other’s bodies, their sweet, romantic murmurings, and their interracial sexual bliss.

With visions of herself on her back, fleshy thighs parted, Julian’s taut behind tensing as he penetrated her delicate maidenhead with his young black erection, her fingernails digging into his strong back, the older woman’s fingers found their way to her moist labia and swollen clitoris. Later, the tremors of her powerful orgasm subsided, Nicole drifted off to sleep.

Nicole awoke early the next morning. Donning her indigo blue bikini, and wrapping a short, matching, semi-sheer sarong around her wide hips, she made her way to Club Soleil Beach. The flawless, white sand beach, with its canopied beach beds and postcard-worthy vista of clear, turquoise water, was deserted in the early morning hours. Walking along the edge of the shoreline, the bathwater-warm water and white sand squishing between her toes, Nicole felt her iPhone vibrate.

“Hope you’re not causing a riot in your bikini. Drinks lots of yummy cocktails, see you when you get back,” read the text from her friend Gail.

Her friend’s note brought a smile to her face, but it was then that she remembered she’d previously entered Julian’s phone number into her mobile.

Slightly embarrassed admitting it even to herself, the handsome teenager had rarely left the curvy grandmother’s thoughts. Emitting a heavy sigh, Nicole hesitated for some time before casting caution to the wind and tapping out a text:

“Good morning, handsome. Hope you slept well. I guess this is my way of giving you my number.”

“Good morning, Nicole.,” came Julian’s quick response. “Thank you for the text and the coordinates! I’m truly honoured. What are you up to, early riser?”

“Just enjoying a walk along the beach, which is deserted,” replied Nicole, a few moments before she sent a follow-up:

“Doing anything? Don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”

“Love to! Meet you there shortly,” came the young man’s quick rejoinder.

The fact that she’d just given a young black guy forty years her junior her number, and then proceeded to invite him to go for a walk while dressed in a skimpy bikini, was not lost on the mature beauty. She placed her mobile into her beach bag, another soft sigh passing her lips.

Julian arrived shortly thereafter, barefoot, wearing a pair of off-white denims rolled up at the ankles, and a matching, loose-fitting linen shirt. Nicole felt slightly under-dressed in her brief bikini, despite the young black teen’s tactful but approving glances. The overtaxed string top was barely up to the challenge of supporting and concealing her GG-cup breasts, and though wrapped in a short sarong, the tiny bottoms were incredibly brief. With his shirt almost completely unbuttoned, Nicole stole a few approving but discreet glances of her own at the young man’s strong chest and washboard abdomen.

“You look fantastic in your bikini,” enthused Julian.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” replied Nicole. “At my age, my figure isn’t what it once was. Everything’s a bit … fleshier.”

“I’m serious – you look fabulous.”

The pair continued ambling along the beach, a soft breeze combining fragrances of fauna and saltwater filling their nostrils. Still morning, the tropical sun was hours away from its midday intensity. Nicole’s large breasts shifted and heaved heavily within the confines of her bikini top as they walked.

After conversing for a while, the two walked on in relative silence. A silence that Julian finally broke.

“I really like you, Nicole,” he said.

Julian spoke with such genuine sentiment, without a hint of pretense, that the older woman practically swooned, feeling slightly weak in the knees.

“I really like you, too, sweetheart,” came Nicole’s heartfelt reply, her voice soft, her tone slightly bashful.

As the pair carried on along the pristine white sand, the sixty-two-year-old mother and grandmother tentatively slipped her delicate hand into Julian’s.

They both looked at each other and smiled. Perhaps it could be said that what played in Saint Monique, stayed in Saint Monique.

Reaching the edge of the Club Au Naturel Beach, still holding hands, the unlikely couple came upon a large sign.

“Club Au Naturel Nude Beach

Nudity Required

No Cameras Allowed”

Exchanging bashful smirks, they decided to turn around and make their way back, eventually reaching the entrance to Club Soleil Beach.

“Care to spend a bit of time together by the pool later?” asked the handsome black teen.

“That would be lovely,” said Nicole. “Eleven-ish?”

Hours later, back at her suite, the hour quickly approaching eleven, Nicole’s iPhone vibrated once more.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t stop thinking about you. When your hand slipped into mine at the beach, it was a magical moment for me,” read the young Adonis’s text. “I’ll put this in a text because I might not be brave enough to say it to you in person, but you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. I can’t stop staring at your body, It’s unbelievable. Sorry, too much information.”

Nicole began tapping out her response, her fingers noticeably trembling.

“Full disclosure, it was a magical moment for me, too, sweetheart. I’m still finding it hard to accept my feelings and not pull back given I’m so much older than you, but the truth is I think I’m crushing on you rather badly. I’m so flattered that you want to spend time with me – you’re so bright and charming and so drop-dead gorgeous. “Sexy” doesn’t cut it when describing you. You’re beyond sexy.”

“Check outside your door,” came Julian’s cryptic reply.

“??” texted Nicole.

With a quizzical expression and a bit of a smile on her face, Nicole opened the door of her suite. Perched against the wall next to her door, sat a big fluffy teddy bear with one long-stemmed rose in its lap. Deeply touched, the mature psychologist placed the palm of her hand against her bust, a beaming smile instantly forming on her lips.

“You’re so incredibly sweet,” texted Nicole. “I’m so touched, you have no idea.”

A few minutes before eleven, still clad in her bikini and sarong, Nicole made her way to the large Club Soleil pool area. Arriving before Julian, one of the male pool attendants, dressed in their uniform of a white polo shirt, white shorts, and white trainers, escorted her to a side-by-side pair of unoccupied Riviera-style recliners.

“Just yourself, madam?” queried the young blonde attendant.

“A friend is joining me shortly,” replied Nicole in her posh English accent.

Setting down her beach bag, donning her sunglasses, and removing her sarong and sandals, the voluptuous older woman had just settled into her recliner when the attendant returned with two large terry cloth towels and two bottles of water, explaining that pool guests could order and charge drinks to their rooms via the resort’s online portal, the same portal through which guests could reserve canopied beach beds at any of the three beaches, book spa treatments, make dinner reservations, and so on. Nicole smiled politely and thanked him, after which the attendant moved on to check in with several other guests nearby.

Nicole looked up just as Julian, wearing that dazzling smile and little else, approached.

Wearing stylish Tom Ford sunglasses, and a towel of his own draped over his forearm, the black teenager wore a pair of espresso brown leather sandals and a very brief black swimsuit. Suddenly grateful for the discretion her dark sunglasses afforded, Nicole felt her face and throat flush. Julian’s swimsuit appeared to be made of a stretchy black mesh fabric. It also appeared to be restraining an incredibly girthy, coiled anaconda. Indeed, the sheer weight of his male ‘package’ appeared to be such that his apparent equine-sized manhood shifted heavily and heaved in the overtaxed crotch of his swimsuit as he walked.  

Recovering from the initial shock of the teenager’s apparent largesse in the front of his swimsuit, the rest of Julian’s physique took the older woman’s breath away. Broad-shouldered, muscular, and lean, his strong chest tapered down to a narrow waist and hips. Combined with his flawless dark skin, a washboard tummy, strong athletic thighs, and male model looks, he had the kind of body women would pay dearly to see perform as a Magic Mike-type exotic dancer.

Her feminine radar once again invoked, Nicole sensed the stir that Julian’s presence had generated amongst the other pool guests. There was a mix of ‘tsk, tsk’ looks of judgement given their evident gap in ages, discreet but admiring glances from several women, as well as sheepish looks from several of the men. One young woman’s reaction caught Nicole’s eye when she looked over at her female friend, silently mouthed an “OMG”, and quickly mock-fanned herself.

“My turn – you looked fantastic in your swimsuit,” said Nicole in a calm voice.

The young black teen flashed his gorgeous, panty-dampening smile once more.

“I’d gush more about how amazing you look in your bikini,” said Julian, “but you already know I think you’re a stunner.”

Standing next to his recliner, Julian momentarily turned, offering Nicole a glorious side view. In profile, contrasted with his taut tummy, the bulge in the front of Julian’s swimsuit looked positively enormous. Not addressing the figurative ‘elephant in the room’, or more precisely the veritable elephant in Julian’s swimsuit, somewhat only exacerbated the already palpable sexual vibe between them. The more they avoided talking about it, the more she pretended not to notice, and the more supercharged the sexual current between them became. Settling into his recliner, Julian asked if he could order her a drink.

“You didn’t let me when we met at the lounge,” teased Julian, “you can’t say no to me twice,”

“I bet women rarely say no to you, sweetheart,” said Nicole with a smirk, her tone somehow almost maternal and sweet.

“Women say no to me quite a bit, but … well, never mind.”

“A Tom Collins would be lovely,” she answered with a smile, sensing Julian’s sudden wish to change the subject.

The pair enjoyed a few hours together by the pool, twice taking dips in the shimmering, aquamarine water, each time both insisting on drying the other’s back.

Watching her young black companion walk barefoot towards the clubhouse at one point, Nicole quickly seized the opportunity, drew down her sunglasses and ogled Julian’s tight, sexy behind. She took full, though more discreet, advantage of his walk back, once more marvelling at his body and the way his oversized manhood stretched the fabric of his swimsuit. Although Roberts penis was quite small, and while it was a social norm that women her age didn’t discuss penis size or hold that it was important, she had always secretly been intrigued. Back men had also always held great allure for her. That said, she thought it certain that a man could possess too much of a good thing, causing the woman pain during attempts at sex. The front of Julian’s swimsuit was both extremely intimidating and wildly intriguing.

“Have you ever been to the other areas of the resort,” asked Nicole as innocently and innocuously as she could.

“No, have you?” answered Julian.

Nicole said that she hadn’t but professed to have frequented nude beaches with her husband while staying at their holiday property in Spain.

“Swimming in the ocean in the nude feels quite wonderful,” added Nicole rather brazenly.

Nicole took another sip of her drink before reaching for her mobile.

“One canopy beach bed available at Club Au Naturel tomorrow between eleven and four, otherwise everything’s fully booked all day,” she said trying to sound as unperturbed about it all as she could. Would you … like to join me?”

“I would love to, Nicole,” replied Julian, clearly eager to indulge.

“It’s a date, then.”

After enough time in the sun, Julian, ever the gallant gentleman and youthful Casanova, escorted Nicole back to her suite. Along the way – between Nicole’s hourglass, bikini-clad figure, the contents of her bikini top, Julian’s physique, and the front of his swimsuit – the unlikely interracial couple garnered countless stares. Neither spoke about tomorrow’s “date” at the nude beach, perhaps recognizing their mutual, unspoken excitement and wishing to downplay it as having any kind of sexual portent. It would just be something natural, liberating, and non-sexual.

Later that evening, the cloudless Caribbean sky having turned a pinkish-blue, they met again for dinner, this time at one of the resort restaurants. Julian handed Nicole another long-stemmed rose when he picked her up. The place had a similarly romantic ambience, and the two spent several more hours together, becoming more and more infatuated with the other as time passed. Becoming increasingly enraptured with the gorgeous young Casanova, and feeling more comfortable, Nicole’s tactile, affectionate nature began to emerge in earnest. Deeply immersed in conversation, the older woman found herself touching the black teenager more and more – placing her hand on his, tenderly cupping his taut, angular jaw with the palm of her hand, even placing her hand on his thigh. All potent indications, for those who knew Nicole well, that she was craving physical and emotional closeness and passionate sex.

Delivering her once more to the door of her suite, as they said their goodnight, Nicole fought the urge to invite the young man inside. It was still too soon, she thought to herself, and there was that gap in their ages that loomed so large over everything.

The two held hands and looked longingly into each other’s eyes, Nicole’s free hand still holding onto her rose.

“Tonight was special,” said Julian. “Every moment with you is special but, I don’t know, I’m feeling a super-charged intensity between us. I hope I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

“You’re not, sweetie,” came Nicole’s response, her voice especially soft and gentle. “Look, I’m sixty-two years old, you’re eighteen. I’m a mother and a grandmother and I know myself well. I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my entire life. I desperately want to invite you inside, and I’ve never wanted to make love to a man like I want to make you to you, Julian, but I’m so much older than you and my heart is still a little fragile from the end of my marriage. I hope you can understand, and I want you to know that, although I’m not going to invite you inside, I desperately want to.”

Julian, standing tall before her, moved in closer -- her perfume and his cologne intermingling -- and gently slipped his fingers through her silvery hair.

“All in good time, and only when it’s right, for both,” said Julian softly in his most dulcet tone of voice.

With that, no longer able to resist, the mature woman moved still closer and pressed her lips to Julian’s.

Their kiss was slow, hot, sensual, and wet. Initially somewhat tentative, their kisses quickly became more passionate, even hungry. Like many women, Nicole believed you could tell two things by the way a man kissed -- how good he was going to be on the dance floor, and how good he was going to be in bed. Julian’s kisses made the older woman groan and caused the gusset of her panties to become damp with her feminine wetness.

Eventually standing back from one another, Nicole looked almost stupefied in response to their kiss. Without speaking another word, other than to exchange pleasant goodnights, Nicole reached for her room access card and Julian headed off into the Caribbean night.