Mary’s Adventure, Part 2 of 6 [FM]

What follows is part of a story I wrote as a commission. I still write for commissions, DM me for pricing, if interested.

Part 1 is [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/e1nckz/marys_adventure_part_1_of_6_fm/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

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CHAPTER 2: SUNDAY
I couldn’t remember exactly how I’d ended up back in bed. After Gina’s display the night before, my world had gone blank, lost to sinful, lustful thoughts. The better part of my mind took hold in the morning light, though, and although I certainly adored the feeling of the soft mattress and blankets against my bare skin, a part of me was ashamed of my nudity. That didn’t keep me from lingering in bed for longer than I was used to. At home, as soon as I woke up, I was on the move, preparing Frank’s lunch, getting a head start on cleaning and planning errands for the day. In St. Bart’s, there was nothing pressing for me to do, so, against my instincts to get up and go, or even to get some clothes on, I stretched under the soft sheets and settled in. I even managed to doze off again briefly, something I hadn’t done since college, until a knock at my door brought me back from the brink of sleep. By the time I was back to fully aware, the door was already opening, causing me to huddle even more under the blankets, suddenly very awake and keenly aware of my nudity, not to mention the memory of a very naked man who, last I knew, was still in the suite.

It was only Gina, though, looking sleepy but very pleased. In her fluffy white robe, clutching a steaming coffee mug, she looked almost domestic, leaning against the door jam with a soft smile on her face. She was almost indistinguishable from the purely sexual being I’d witnessed only hours earlier. Her hair was slicked back from a shower, by the smell wafting off of her. “Morning,” she said in barely above a whisper.

“Morning,” I mumbled back, squinting back at her. She had never been an early riser, and with it being Sunday, I had a sinking feeling before I even asked the question. “Gina, what time is it?” The look on Gina’s face was one of someone who hadn’t planned on having to care about what time it was for several days. She didn’t look annoyed, just…almost surprised that the concept of time really mattered to anyone. She fumbled for her phone in her robe pocket.
“Uh…about 2:00?” The answer was like a jolt of electricity to my brain. I tensed up, letting the blanket fall away from my naked torso without a thought. I’d slept late. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d missed Sunday morning mass, and for it to happen on this of all Sundays…after how sinful I’d been…There was no excuse. I should have been there early. I should have been in confessional. I should have been anywhere but sinfully naked in this bed after sinfully watching the sinful acts of my sinful friend. Regret set in, with images flashing through my mind: sunbathing topless, watching Gina with a strange man, sleeping nude, an offense that had bled into this morning as a sat nude, and mostly uncovered, in front of someone who was not my husband. Through my faith, I was catching a reflection of myself, and I didn’t care for what I saw. Well, most of me didn’t like what I saw. That voice in the back of my mind, the one that had talked me into most of my offenses, was rejoicing at the developments. That part of me was comforting, in its own way, but I was nowhere near wanting comforting. So I repressed that part of my mind, the way I had done for so many years, and curled forward on the bed in the fetal position.
Gina was beside me in a flash, her comforting arms wrapped around my bare shoulders without a second’s hesitation in regards to my nudity. I could lie to myself, push away the part of myself that wanted to justify what I’d done, but pushing Gina away would be an entire matter entirely. In my state, it would have been nigh on impossible, so I leaned into her and let out a shuddering sigh. Gina rubbed my arm, cooing softly, wordlessly comforting me. I relaxed a bit, leaning into Gina’s embrace. We sat for a while in silence as I came to terms with my sinful behavior. I was sure there would be evening services somewhere on the island, and if not, I could go to a service later in the week. Until then, I had, of course, brought my Bible along, I had faith, I was devout, I could miss one Sunday morning. I looked over at Gina and offered a weak smile, which she returned. She stood and gently helped me off the bed, leaving me completely exposed, but I didn’t much care. Maybe it was the dark part of my mind talking, but Gina had already seen me topless, what was a little more skin? As the thought flashed across my mind, I felt slightly more comfortable with my situation. I wasn’t sure where this voice had been my entire life, but I was beginning to really enjoy and fear it.

Gina led me to the shower, turning the water on and letting it warm on her hand before gently escorting me in and closing the big glass door between us. The warm water was purifying, blasting away all low, dirty feelings I had about myself. As my brown hair was plastered flat to my head and the steaming water ran down my body, I felt renewed. The entire previous day snapped into perspective. It was sinful to be exposed before a member of the opposite sex, or in a sexual way. I had been lying in the sun with no one but my female friend. If anything, I’d been trying to make myself more pleasing to my husband. This could be seen not only as Biblically permitted, but encouraged. As for what I’d witnessed last night, I had experienced a moment of weakness. I could strive to be better. Watching Gina with a man was not overtly sinful, not in the way she had been, at least. In fact, it gave me an opportunity to aid her away from sin.

I looked over my shoulder to find Gina watching me, concerned, through the glass. I smiled and waved, feeling worlds better for the shower and reflection. Gina smiled and waved back, lingering only for a moment before leaving. I let the water flow over me for a few more moments, the even spray pelting my flawless skin. It was flawless, now that I thought about it. That voice in the back of my mind seemed to be forcing me to look at myself in a way that I never had before, not that it took much forcing. Sinful though it may have been, I enjoyed thinking highly of myself. Despite my mini moral crisis, the voice was too addictive. I let my hands glide down my slender frame, already showing, I noticed, some color from the previous day. My hands started at my breasts, certainly not as big as Gina’s, but at a B-cup, they were at least prominent, and Frank had certainly always enjoyed them, though he never gave my sensitive nipples, dusky and about the size of a nickel, enough attention. My hands moved over my flat stomach, nowhere near what you might see on a fitness guru, but my active chores around the house kept it trim and flat, which complimented my flared hips rather well. I placed a hand on either hip, a feature I’d hated all the way through college, thinking they made me look big and unattractive, but the new voice in me rejoiced in them. They weren’t BIG, they were feminine, and they were sexy. My mind reeled at the word “sexy” being used by anyone, even myself, to describe my body. I wasn’t sexy, I was simply Mary, a well behaved housewife who loved her husband and rejoiced in the Lord. Sexy, though, was never a word that would have entered my mind. It stuck, though, and I was ashamed to admit to myself that I liked it. I looked down at my hips, one hand on each side, and had the briefest flash of the night before, of Gina on top of that nameless man. He’d gripped her hips like this. I closed my eyes, and the vision filled my imagination. What would it have felt like? I imagined his hands were rough and calloused, gripping my delicate flesh to keep me from leaving him. Not that I would, with a penis, a cock, as big as his. I could barely comprehend just how full it must feel.

My own moan brought me back to reality, to find myself several feet away from where I’d been before closing my eyes, leaning with my back against the warming tile wall, outside the spray from the showerhead, and my right hand between my legs. Sinful. Disgusting. Abhorrent. The words flew around my mind, but none seemed to stick the way “sexy” had earlier. Still, I knew that touching myself like that was wrong. So why wasn’t I stopping? I could feel the warm moisture, not entirely from the shower, on my fingers, and just the slightest movement was sending thunderbolts of pleasure through my entire body. It took a great amount of effort to pull my hand away, and when I did, I found myself staring at the moisture coating my fingers. I raised them to my face, entranced by the way the light glimmered off of them, ever so slightly different than the water from the shower, or perhaps that was just my imagination. I sniffed, just slightly, catching my own scent over the other combined smells, and my knees went weak. I inched my fingers closer to my face, my lips trembling. Perhaps…
A sharp knock at the door caused me to nearly jump out of my skin. “Mary, honey? Are you alright in there?” I reflexively slid my arm behind my back, hiding my sinful hand, despite the fact that Gina was making no attempt to enter the bathroom.

“Yeah…yes! I’m fine! I’m almost done!” I hoped my voice didn’t sound a fraction as guilty as I felt it did.

“Oh, alright,” Gina responded quickly. If she suspected what I had been doing, her voice didn’t betray her. “I ordered in a late lunch from room service. It just got in. I wanted to make sure that you would be out before it got cold.” How long had I been in the shower?

“Thanks, I’ll be right out,” I called back, feeling guilty about using so much water. There was the old Mary, feeling guilty about running up the water bill at a luxury hotel. I moved my hand from behind my back, looking at the drying juices on my pruny fingers. They twitched involuntarily, only slightly, as if longing to return to their position between my legs, and it was hard to rationalize a reason not to. With some hesitation, though, I extended my arm into the water, washing away all physical evidence of my sinfulness. Once I was sure it was gone, I quickly returned to my usual shower routine. Five minutes later, I had soaped and shampooed my way to cleanliness with no further sexual thoughts, though I did find the word “sexy” sticking in my mind as I dried myself off. With memories of the image I had in the shower lingering, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “You are not a sexpot,” I whispered, for fear that Gina would overhear. I stared into my brown eyes. They were kind. They were friendly. They were not like the eyes of those sexy starlets on the magazine covers. My round cheeks, narrow lips, and weak chin all could be summed up in one word: cute. I wasn’t the kind of woman that a stud like the one Gina had been with would think twice about. I was the best friend guys cozied up to in order to get close to the hot girl. I trailed my fingers over my cheeks, the same fingers that I’d sinned with so recently, I recalled with a thrill. “I’m a good girl. A good, upstanding, God-fearing woman,” I whispered, though the words lacked the fire that I had hoped for. They reeked of desperation, but fell short. I shook my head, pulled on my robe over my naked body, and went to lunch.

–

Lunch was amazing. Gina had ordered up a spread greater than anything I could have imagined, or eaten, and we sat around nibbling and laughing like two college girls. When I finally asked Gina how the night before had gone, she smiled her devilish smile and winked.
“You’d know as well as anyone, Mary.” I blushed furiously and bowed my head. She reached over and swatted my arm. “If I was bothered by it, I would have fucked him in my bedroom, not within eyeshot of your door.” I smiled, but kept my head bowed. Just because she knew and was okay with it didn’t mean I wasn’t embarrassed. She ducked her head down, trying to catch my eye. “If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have winked at you.” That got a fresh round of blushing going. She placed two fingers under my chin and gently tilted my head up so I was nose to nose with her. Softly, she said “If it bothered me, I would have put a stop to it when we were in college.” There was something profoundly comforting in her eyes, almost magnetic. It might have been my imagination, but she almost looked…seductive. I searched her eyes for meaning until the sound of my phone chiming in my bedroom. I craned my neck around to look in the direction of the door, and when I looked back, Gina had leaned back in her seat and was looking at her phone like nothing had ever happened. Had I imagined what had just happened, the way I’d lost myself in my imagination while in the shower? I started to say something, I’m not sure what, but thought better of it and silently went to check my phone.

I was surprised to find a long list of texts from Frank, spanning from early that morning, saying he hoped I’d slept well, wondering what I was doing, wondering where the bread was kept, wondering if it was okay if he called, wondering why I wasn’t answering any of his texts, wondering if I was alright and, finally, a text announcing that he’d found the bread. The texts were a double edged sword. It did my heart good to hear from my husband. He’d always been a sweet man, if a little helpless when left to his own devices. On the other hand, they were an unwelcome reminder of the housewife duties that awaited me on my return. I stared at the phone for a moment, seriously considering not responding at all and leaving home alone so that I could enjoy myself. That would have been irresponsible, though. Frank had been kind enough to not make a big deal out of this vacation. He deserved to be kept abreast of how I was doing, if not necessarily what kind of trouble I was getting into. I started typing a few times, each time trying to capture the beauty of this place into words. Finally, I stepped up to the window, spanning an entire wall of my room, and pulled back the curtains for the first time since I’d gotten there. The view was the same as in the main living area. I spent a few minutes trying to find the best angle to shoot it from, then I made sure I adjusted my robe to hide as much as possible before posing for the selfie. Why, though? That voice rumbled up again. If you can’t send a provocative picture to your husband, who can you send it to? I took a moment to mull it over before dropping the robe (in full view of the window, which gave me a little extra thrill), and posed yet again. Just before I snapped the picture, I could hear Frank’s predictable response. “What are you doing, Mary? This is sinful behavior. Please tell me you’re not COMPLETELY naked in this. How is this glorifying God?” I sighed and stopped short, letting my arms hang at my side. I looked around the room hopelessly, until my eyes fell on the wadded up black fabric. I tossed my phone on the bed and put on the bikini that started me on this sinful, but sexy course of action. A few minutes later, I was in the figure hugging two-piece, posed in front of the window yet again. I beamed as brightly as I could and made sure the framing revealed just a bit of cleavage for him to get worked up over. I snapped and sent it with a simple “Wish you were here” caption. Without a second thought for Frank or my own modesty, I walked out to the living area, where Gina was still staring at her phone. I cleared my throat, grabbing her attention. I stood with my hands on my hips and my eyebrows raised, feeling, for the first time ever, like a total boss. Gina just smiled that devilish smile and put her phone down.
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary! Give me five minutes.”

–

Gina tried to talk me into hitting the beach, a thought that my new side was eager to try, but cooler heads prevailed. I had all week to build up to flaunting in front of the locals, but I was looking for just one more day to…I don’t know what. Maybe the prim and proper housewife in me was fighting for one last chance to get a hold on my senses. Maybe I just wanted to make sure that I was fully prepared to let go of that part of me for good. Whatever it was, I opted for at least one more day of quiet tanning by the pool. Gina mocked disappointment, but I think she was happy for a quiet day. I could only imagine, after a loud night out at whatever bar or club she’d found herself in the night before, a little leisure time in relative silence was a welcome change of pace. The walk to the pool was almost as uneventful as the day before, with the exception of a middle aged couple we passed in the lobby. The 40-something husband made no attempt to hide his obvious interest, but to my surprise, he seemed to linger his attention on me far more than on Gina. His eyes roved over her in her almost not there swimsuit, but he, for lack of a better term, devoured my petite body with his eyes. It was a major stroke to my ego, to my burgeoning sinful pride, to that lingering thought of sinful sexiness, that I, a petite housewife, got noticed over the tall, model-esque beauty. I shot him my best cocky grin, though I couldn’t remember the last time I attempted a cocky grin, so I had no idea how well it came off. He blushed and averted his gaze, though I was fairly sure I could feel his eyes roving over my back. I found myself strutting the rest of the way to the pool, another action I had zero experience in, but with such an unexpected ego boost coming my way, a little bit of a strut just came natural. When we got to the pool area and the door clicked shut behind us, Gina spun on her heel, an ecstatic look on her face, and grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Holy shit, Mary! Did you see that guy?”

“Who, the guy with his wife?” I tried to sound disinterested, but I couldn’t suppress a betraying grin, earning me a playful slap on the arm from my best friend.

“Yes, the guy with his wife! The total silver fox who totally wanted to fuck the shit out of you on the floor of the lobby!” Even if she’d phrased it in language I found acceptable, that sentence would have been more than enough to make me want to normally curl up into a ball, but something about this place, with all the things I’d done just in the past day, I giggled like a school girl. I liked being noticed. What was so sinful about that? But then, Gina’s words sank in, and I got an image, just as clear as the one I’d had in the shower, of the man, whose face I could already hardly remember, pinning me to the floor in the lobby, in front of everyone, and entering me from behind. I held back a moan, barely, but I opted to turn away from Gina, just in case the lust was obvious on my face. “I’m a good housewife,” I silently chanted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have desires.” That second voice was making more and more sense, and gaining more and more control. I hadn’t swept the pool area to make sure that it was totally vacant, and yet I already had my top off. I didn’t even remember untying it, but there it was, in my hand, with my bare flesh exposed for anyone to see. Even the so-called silver fox, should he have a mind to circle back for a second look. I could feel the wetness between my legs at the simple thought of him spying on me, aided, of course, by the idea of him fucking the shit out of me on the lobby floor. I looked back at Gina, who was watching me curiously as she, already topless, was applying her tanning oil. I turned back around and looked at my bikini bottoms. My wetness was, of course, not obvious in the slightest. Paranoia started scratching at the back of my brain, though. I knew that Gina would be able to tell, to sense it. Part of that turned me on even more. I could feel the sexual energy, brand new and exciting, building in my joints. I hadn’t been this turned on since my honeymoon, and the intoxicating sun of St. Bart’s had me ready to do almost anything. All of this came together in a moment so far out of character for me, I scarcely would have recognized myself.

“Do you know what the only thing sexier than tan lines is?” I called the words over my shoulder, doing my best to echo Gina’s phrasing from the day before. She shot me a curious look that morphed into surprise as I hooked my thumbs over the waist of my bottoms and slid them down in one quick motion, before I could change my mind. “No tan lines at all!” I gave out another little giggle (I couldn’t remember the last time I’d giggled at all, let alone twice in one day), and set my bare bottom on the warm wooden chair. Gina, mouth agape, passed me the bottle of oil, then, with a determined look, dropped her bottoms as well, sliding them down her legs that were far more toned than mine would ever be, revealing her smoothness. She hooked them on her toe, kicked them at me. I squealed and shielded myself before squirting a healthy amount of the oil into my hand and whipping the bottle back at her, which she, of course, easily caught. I began basting myself liberally, exploring every nook and cranny, paying special attention to the areas typically covered by my bathing suit. I started between my legs, letting out an audible gasp as the cool oil touched the extremely sensitive skin. I massaged it in, relishing in the warmth as it spread, making my already sensitive womanhood burn with desires I knew were best left bottled up.

I found myself lingering too long, far too long, and moved my hands upward, glancing back at Gina to make sure she hadn’t noticed my less than wholesome behavior. I smeared the oil over my hips and flat stomach, then paid attention to my arms, then finally to my breasts, rubbing the diminishing amount of oil into the soft tissue. I idly gazed over at the door we’d entered the pool area from, halfway hoping to see the man from the lobby watching me massaging my breasts. All the windows I could see were empty, though. With just a touch of disappointment, I finished on my breasts and covered any spots I’d missed, including my face, with the remaining oil, and laid back, fully nude for all the world to see, getting drunk on the luxurious warmth of the sun and I ruminated on the events of the vacation so far. Less than two days in, and I was already something of a nudist, I was fantasizing about men who weren’t my husband, and I had slept through church for the first time in my adult life, and the more I ran over these events in my head, the less they bothered me. I was happy, I was more confident with myself than I could ever recall being, and I was truly, completely relaxed. I couldn’t imagine the week getting any better.

–

Several hours later, after working on our tans on both sides, we returned to the room. Gina took her turn in the shower first while I checked my phone. Hours later, and Frank hadn’t responded, which wasn’t unlike him. If he needed something, he expected an immediate response, and if he didn’t get one, he’d pepper me with messages until I finally relented, but if I sent him something, he’d take days to respond to it directly, if he ever acknowledged it at all. I just threw the phone back on my bed. Maybe if I’d gone ahead and sent him a naked picture instead of just one of me in my bathing suit, he’d respond. I briefly thought about taking a nude shot in the mirror over the dresser. It would only have shown my breasts, but it would certainly get a reaction. I stared at the phone for a long couple seconds before realizing that, no, it probably wouldn’t. Great, another side effect of my vacation in St. Bart’s. Less than 48 hours in, and I was already noticing flaws in my marriage. I stripped off my bikini and admired my reflection. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I looked a couple shades darker than usual already. I’d always liked the look of my pale skin, but tanned was a good look on me. I inspected myself in the mirror from different angles, unable to suppress a smile at how happy I was. I felt good, from the inside out, in ways I hadn’t in a long time. That’s not to say that I wasn’t happy at home. At least, I didn’t think I was unhappy at home. I glanced back at my phone, hoping to see the screen lit up. In vain, it would seem. I leaned with my butt against the dresser for a moment, staring at the phone. Finally, I stomped across the room, snatched the phone up, then crossed back to the mirror. It took only a moment to find a suitably flattering pose. Arching my back slightly to make my bust appear larger, I held the phone up, snapping my very first nude selfie.

I stared at it for a moment. Frank wouldn’t like this side of me. He’d think it was sinful, saturated with wicked pride and lust. He wouldn’t be wrong, of course, but I still had an option to not let him see this side of me. What happened in St. Bart’s stayed in St. Bart’s. I closed out of the text message, but decided not to delete the picture. I wanted the chance to change my mind again. I sat on the too-comfortable bed and pondered. Not about anything in particular, just the state of the world, the state of my life, the state of the vacation, how far I’d come, how far I’d be willing to go from here. I wasn’t sure how much further I could go, in all honesty. Sunbathing nude was fun, and I certainly planned on doing more of that as the week went on, but some of the other urges I was fighting would cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

A knock at the door shook me from my stupor. Not at my bedroom door, which was still opened, I realized, but at the main door of the suite. With Gina still occupied in the shower, I hastily pulled on my robe and walked across the main living area to answer. I found a hotel employee who only spoke broken English holding a long, narrow box in beautiful, delicate pink wrapping with a black ribbon. The employee held out a clipboard and said in his stilted speech “Please…sign.” I obliged, scribbling my name down on the line and taking the package. Closing the door, I fumbled with the attached tag. In neat handwriting, it simply read “To the Woman in Black”. Furrowing my brow, I removed the ribbon and opened the box to find a single, long stemmed red rose with another card, written in the same neat hand.
“To the angel from the lobby,

I hope it’s not too forward to have inquired at the front desk regarding your room number. I promise, it is not my aim to be off-putting. I simply wanted to give credit to a supreme beauty, and I pray I shall see you again in the coming days, even if it is just a passing smile on your way to the pool, though I do hope you will at least introduce yourself next time. Please enjoy the flower.

-R”

I held the card in trembling fingers, reading it over and over again until the bathroom door finally opened. Gina approached with her usual grace, peering over my shoulder. “What’s that?” She took a moment to read the card, still in my hand, and then gasped. “Why, Ms. Mary, I do believe you have a not so secret admirer!”
This week had suddenly gotten much more interesting.

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I’ll be posting a part a day until it’s all up. Again, if you’re interested in a commissioned story, DM me for pricing and details.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/e24zq3/marys_adventure_part_2_of_6_fm