The Air Caraïbes flight had just touched down on the tarmac at Le Raizet, and already, a wave of humid heat had enveloped Léna and Antoine. For Antoine, a native of Nantes, the shock was brutal but exhilarating. For Léna, it was a return to her roots, a scent of childhood tickling her nostrils: a mixture of wet earth, sugar cane, and the iodine of the Caribbean Sea. They were coming to spend three weeks with Léna's family, in the hills of Deshaies, a small fishing village of wild beauty on the Leeward Coast of Guadeloupe. This vacation was more than just a summer break. It was also a new step in their exploration of libertinism, a world they had discovered together a few years earlier and which had spiced their love with a newfound audacity. Léna, with her Creole sensuality and strong character, was often the mistress of the game, the one who unearthed partners and orchestrated encounters. She loved seeing the desire spark in her man's eyes for another, a way for her to offer him experiences while remaining the center of his universe. The family home was a traditional Creole hut, nestled in the heart of a lush garden where hummingbirds came to pollinate the hibiscus. The first days were devoted to family outpourings, "ti-punches" on the terrace, and hearty meals prepared by Léna's aunt. Antoine, with his light skin that blushed easily and his metropolitan accent, stood out a little amidst the loud laughter and sung Creole, but his kindness and visible love for Léna quickly earned him everyone's affection. It was during a day at Grande Anse beach, one of the most beautiful on the island with its golden sand lined with coconut trees, that their vacation took a more... spicy turn. While Antoine was sunbathing, a little drowsy from the heat and the rum from lunch, Léna had gone for a swim. It was as she emerged from the turquoise water, drops beading on his caramel skin, that she noticed him. He was playing beach volleyball with friends, not far from their towel. The man was a force of nature. A Guadeloupean with lean, powerful muscles, sculpted by the ocean and the sun. His skin was the color of courbaril wood, and his smile revealed dazzling white teeth. But what had struck Léna most was the generous, heavy shape that emerged beneath his water-molded swim shorts. A promise that was both intimidating and terribly exciting.She joined Antoine, a wry smile. "You see the big guy playing volleyball over there? Number 7," she whispered in his ear. Antoine squinted, shielding his gaze from the sun. He could only nod, his throat suddenly dry. "You like him, huh?" Léna continued, her hand caressing her husband's thigh. She felt the muscle contract beneath her fingers. "I like... his looks, yes," Antoine replied, feigning detachment. That evening, they ran into him again by chance in a small "lolo" (local restaurant) on the port of Deshaies, where they had come for dinner. He was seated at a table with his friends, and their eyes met. Léna, boldly, gave him a nod and a smile that the man, whose name was Stéphane, immediately returned, visibly charmed. It was Léna who started the conversation, pretending to ask his advice on the best rums. They hit it off immediately. Stéphane was a fisherman, a simple and straightforward man, endowed with animal charisma. After a few drinks, and under Antoine's simultaneously amused and feverish gaze, Léna was very clear. She explained their lifestyle, their search for shared pleasures. Stéphane listened, one eyebrow raised ...

... Log in to read the end of this erotic story | 100% free registration