Description

BBC Stretching Wife, by Jezebel Rose

I do not usually accompany my husband on his business trips, but after some mild convincing, I found myself in a plush room at the Price Farm. The Price Farm touts itself as the largest, most authentic Farm in the Caribbean. If you want to be pampered, this is supposed to be the place to go. I needed a getaway, and this seemed perfect.

Being a mother of two, I spend more time papering than being pampered. I was looking forward to having all of my needs taken care of for me. We had arrived on a Saturday, and the place was bustling, but by Monday, the entire wealthy American has had gone home. We practically had the whole area to ourselves.

My husband’s schedule had him away for most of the daytime hours, leaving me to my own devices. Although I am considered middle-aged, I have kept myself in good enough shape to be often mistaken for a woman in her late twenties. I am just barely over five feet tall, slender, with long blonde hair and very fair skin, (my looks contrast sharply with the natives.) I like looking good and have worked hard to stay this way. I am flattered to have men both young and old checking me out (what woman is not?)

Lounging by a pool is the perfect opportunity to show off all the hard work I have been doing, so I put on my yellow bikini, grabbed a bottle of SPF20 for my fair skin, checked myself in the mirror, and headed for the pool.

I spent most of the day on Monday hanging by the pool, being waited on hand and foot. It took a little while getting used to the fact that I was practically the only guest in the entire place. Every time I moved, one of the staff was there to see that I had everything I wanted. It felt perfect to be spoiled, but, being a liberal WASP from New England, I was a little uncomfortable being waited on hand and foot by a purely black, male staff. You know that whole slavery thing and all. They seemed comfortable with it though, it was role-playing, and I am sure that they were well compensated.

I relaxed and just enjoyed the moment. I am not sure if all the attention I was getting was because I was the only one by the pool, or if it was because of the way, I looked. (It was more fun to imagine the latter.) The differences in culture and appearance were intriguing to me as much as it was to them. This became evident to me when a young, muscular pool attendant, wearing only a tight speedo bathing suit emerged to clean the pool. He was very athletic, young and handsome. I was having trouble keeping my eyes off him. I had never seen a black man in such a state of undress.

To indulge my curiosity, I donned my dark-lenses sunglasses so that he could not see my eyes as I ogled his beautiful young body. It is no wonder you hear all the stories about the rich Farm wives keeping black studs for their pleasure! I pretended not to notice him sneaking glances at me every chance he could. It was exciting!

Boldly, I reached for the sun lotion, applied a dab to my hands and began seductively rubbing it into my upper body. That certainly caught the pool boy’s attention, yet I pretended not to notice. He was trying not to be evident with his stare, but could not look away as I lowered my bikini top to spread lotion on my breasts. I slathered cream all over my exposed breasts, rubbing them both gently until my nipples were hard. I could have never done something like this at home, and I would have been too embarrassed. However, for some reason, I dared to do it here. I pulled my top back up, covering my swollen nipples.

Still pretending not to notice him, I applied more lotion to my hands and began spreading it at my ankles. I spread my legs as I worked the cream past my knees. I was breathing heavily at this point, and all I could hear was my own heart pounding wildly. I worked the inside of my thighs for an extra-long time. I was giving him quite a show. I was just about to reach the leg band of my bikini with my greasy fingers when the pool waiter put his big hand on my shoulder.

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Miss Victoria?” He politely asked.

I almost jumped out of my skin, and he must have been watching the whole thing!

“No, no thank you,” I replied nervously.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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