Dammit. Really? The text came through as I landed in Denver: "Stuck in Ft Wayne. Indefinitely. ” The weather gods decided to play a cruel joke. A freak blizzard—Denver's only serious snowfall that winter—swept in and grounded flights across the Midwest. Tom had been away on business travel for weeks, and we planned to fly into the Denver Airport to indulge in some risqué couples time before spending the Christmas holidays with our kids and grandkids in the area.
Left to my own devices, I would have hunkered down at the airport Marriott to catch up on work details in my room, but Tom convinced me “The Mon Chalet's paid for," as we discussed our changed plans while I walked to baggage claim.
We’d stay at the retro, wood-paneled boutique motel several times over the years. The Mon Chalet’s rooms were pure 1970s decadence; ruby-tinted floodlights cast a sultry glow, and mirrored walls and ceiling reflected every angle. But what kept us coming back time and again was the steamy clothing-optional indoor pool, with its sizzling jacuzzis and the group play beds tucked to the side for the more adventurous guests to show off.
His voice dropped an octave, then added, "Have fun without me, Babe. You can tell me everything tomorrow. " I recognized that tone—the one he used when coaxing me to slip out of my dress for a new conquest. The thrill of knowing his vicarious pleasure sent a delicious shiver down my spine. His unspoken dare lingered in the static of our phone connection until I had to hang up to grab my suitcase and hustle to the ride-share lane outside the terminal.
If not for the fact that we had not made love in almost a month and I knew he had to be horny as hell, I might have suspected he planned all this. Over our twenty-five years of marriage, I’ve ‘played’ solo maybe a handful of times, but they were always private one-on-one trysts and carefully orchestrated with guys I’d established some level of rapport—never the free-for-all group scenario like the pool here. While I envy the carefree women who can venture unaccompanied to places like this, I really never had the moxie.
The Mon Chalet had a chill vibe for sure, but the moment I stepped into our room, I felt the familiar undercurrent that drew us here. We had paid extra for a ‘deluxe’ room featuring the heavy leather-padded and steel apparatus called the ‘Sex Machine. ’ “Well, that was a waste,” I lamented, sliding my fingers over the cool metal. Glancing around the mirrored room brought me back two summers when that British gentleman invited us to this very room. God, I can still feel his tongue inside me. His accent made “let me eat your cunt” sound like poetry as he lifted my feet into the rests. He knelt before me and ate my pussy while my husband fondled my breasts from behind me.
With THAT vivid memory rolling through my head, I unpacked our ‘toy’ bag, a plush robe for the pool, tomorrow's underwear, and oddly, my yellow bikini. "I have no idea why I packed this," I laughed, tossing it aside, and found the cannabis edibles I purchased on my way from the airport.
When the bearded budtender had asked what I was looking for, I told him something to ‘relax. ’ He slid this package of ruby-red gummies across the counter with a gleam in his eye. "First time in Colorado? " he asked. "These hit harder at altitude—they'll loosen more than just your shoulders, if you catch my drift," obviously amused with his own cleverness. His suggestive tone could have been off-putting, but considering my destination, his insight was spot on.
With a gummy dissolving on my tongue, I proceeded to peel away layers of winter travel clothes. Despite the chill of the room, I twirled to survey my reflection in the mirrored walls, wearing only my panties and bra. “Not bad,” I thought, “Not bad for fifty-five. ” My B-cup tits were still pert, and I knew from experience that some guys really dig the age-gap kink. It was quite satisfying when one of my sons’ college buds took a long second-take of my ass. Unclasping my bra, my nipples popped to attention... Cold or excitement? I wondered, running my fingertips around each, feeling the slight pebbling of my dark pink areolas. Maybe both? My body was telling me what it wanted, even if I still had not wrapped my mind around suddenly being here by myself.
On past visits, we played it cool at first, keeping to ourselves until someone caught my fancy in the hot tub. Is he interested in me or just being friendly? I'd wonder, watching his eyes for that telltale flicker of desire. Then Tom would lean over, "My wife finds you attractive. Would you like to join us? " Invariably, he would, but it was Tom’s presence—monitoring, facilitating—that gave me the confidence to surrender to pleasure I might otherwise have denied myself. Tom kept a log of the men, many with a snapshot to commemorate the encounter.
But not this visit. Enjoying myself was going to be a solitary affair tonight, I decided as I lay on the bed to slip my panties off.
My fingers glided through the silver-flecked curls over my mound and between my lips—slick, despite my qualms for the evening. I had neatly manicured it for tonight, a ritual my hubby always appreciates. Stretching out, I twisted around to catch my reflection in the mirrored headboard as I parted my legs. The pink vibrator buzzed along the labia, barely grazing my clit. Take your time, I reminded myself, you have all night after all. I shuddered but held back, already having second thoughts about skipping the pool.
Surfing my edges, I listened to laughter ripple past my door, along with the quick patter of feet on concrete as they dashed through the winter chill toward the heated pool. The gummy had kicked in, and I felt a calmness settle, letting my mind wander to dirty possibilities waiting if I were to follow those foot steps. It took a while, but inevitably, fear of missing out got the best of me, just as Tom knew it would. Damn him.
Remembering the lessons about mascara in the pool from our very first visit, I rubbed off my makeup before tossing the pack of edibles and a handful of condoms into my bag. I wasn’t sure why I thought more than one was necessary, but you never know, right?
Stepping outside, a blast of wind whipped open my robe to where it tied at my waist. “Jesus Christ, it's freezing! ” I screamed and practically ran the three doors down the concrete walk to the pool. I pressed the door code to be completely enveloped by the tropical heat of the pool. No turning back now, Bea.
Nothing had changed since last time, but being solo was intimidating. Hoping someone would recognize me, I surreptitiously scanned faces. No one familiar—Damn. I strolled around the pool to reacquaint myself, thinking, just act like you belong here. The pool area was its usual spectacle; nude couples lounging on pool noodles in the deep end, others sipping drinks from plastic cups around the edges. A couple fucking on one of the group beds was besieged by a growing crowd, so I couldn’t see much. For now, at least, the hot tubs were already at capacity due to the weather we were all escaping, so I searched about for a place to settle in and observe.
I found a chair along the wall, beside the pool. Tom would be so disappointed if I only watched tonight, but I wasn’t sure exactly how to take the next step without him making introductions. I felt a little conspicuous as the only person wearing a robe in this humidity, so I let it fall open. Unconsciously, I uncrossed my legs to touch myself. Touching myself made me feel sexy and got me in the mood…so did being seen. I sat up to remove the robe altogether. In this crowd, I knew no one noticed my nipples immediately harden, but my solo status drew plenty of eyes. I like that.
The two women stepping from the far hot tub was my invitation. I slowly slid my little bag of tricks— gummies and condoms—behind the lounge chair and dr*ped my robe over the back with deliberate care. I knew I was stalling. Why? I had no idea, but Tom would be eating this up if he were here. My trepidation gets him off—He LOVES to see my nervous vulnerability. Finally, feigning confidence I didn't remotely feel, I drew a breath and walked naked across the deck to the open jacuzzi.
A couple sat with their backs to me, claimed one edge of the tub. The man's shoulder blades revealed tattooed names—Mary and Dillon. Their children, I presume? The woman's generous breasts bobbed in the bubbling water, fixating a couple of younger guys who flanked her. Directly across sat a lone wolf, arms stretched along the tub's rim. He’d positioned himself perfectly—both to watch the show in the water and to monitor my approach. He tried to be subtle, but his eyes were two of the ones that locked onto me the instant I rose from my chair.
As I cautiously stepped onto the wooden deck, his eyes flicked to my wedding band and past my shoulder before offering a hand to steady my entry into the water. No doubt he was searching for the husband who gave it to me. My ring was a tangible link to my marriage, laying down an implied set of ground rules that people here implicitly understood and obeyed. After all, not everyone was here for sex. Many just watched or simply indulged in their own exhibitionism. Without Tom beside me, I hadn’t yet decided which category I’d fall into tonight.
The jets churned noisily around us as I sank into the frothing water at his feet, my arms instinctively crossing over my breasts before I caught myself and forced them back down. Tilting my head back, "My husband’s flight was delayed," I offered to answer his unasked question. Despite the TSB in my system, my heart was racing. “I’m Bea,” I added, extending my hand with a smile that I hoped was more alluring than terrified. Across from us, the woman acknowledged me with an air kiss before returning to her admirers. When the guy on her left abandoned his spot to glide toward me, I felt my face relax as the ratio rebalanced—Just like naked musical chairs.
The man who slid over impetuously rested his hand on my thigh under the water. "First time here alone? " he asked, in a probing attempt to assess my comfort level. Consent of the ladies was a big deal here. I nodded, letting my knees drift apart slightly. The guys were understandably cautious, so I tried not to be overly coy. The couple casually revealed they had a room similar to mine, while the three single men confessed they only had day passes. "The snow's getting bad out there," hinted the one who had assisted me into the water. He was already hard behind me as his fingers kneaded my shoulders from above. "I might have to leave soon, unless...? " he left the question hanging for everyone to consider.
A smile played at my lips as I felt their gazes penetrate me through the steam. Perhaps I was just a convenient port in the snowstorm raging outside, but in this moment, I held the cards. A delicious tremor ran through me as I watched them compete, each hoping to follow me back to suite 11 before the night ended. And I hadn’t even told them about the 'Love Machine' tucked in the corner. I let my fingers brush the impressive hardness next to me, feeling it twinge in response, and contemplated what my hubby was doing about now. He’d absolutely blow a nut to see what was about to develop between these eager young bucks and his wife of 25 years.
Please rate this segment and look for Part 2 of my trilogy, Unicorn at the Mon Chalet: Pool Time, where things really heat up.
Kisses, BeaInTheBuff