My Lost Shaker of Salt


This story includes all sorts of sexual combinations between two men and two woman. If that’s not your thing, move on.



I had to get away. This stupid town was getting to me. Things were closing in, the walls of my apartment seemed like a c-clamp on my life. Things were getting weird. And as Hunter Thompson said, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” It was time to turn pro.

However much I wanted to run, I found that I was hesitant to go out, not because it was over one hundred degrees outside, but that I wanted to avoid my nosy neighbors peeking from their windows waiting to pounce. Lately, all the gossip had me wishing I was invisible, And hiding in the air conditioning had become old. Like I said, I had to get away, if just for a few days. I needed to go just long enough to recall my self and my needs. Someplace like the end of the world would work. Now where could I find it? Would Siri know? I boldly left my apartment.

In the three years I had lived in (what I shall call) Buttfuck, Florida, I had not explored the Gulf Coast as much as I would have liked. I could go north to the nudist resorts, that would certainly dispel my miasma. But no, I wanted more palm trees, I want isolation, I wanted distraction so I headed south, not knowing where I would end up. I had a wallet full of credit cards, all I had to find was a bed on which to crash. I had a cooler with me, snacks, beach gear, some weed and everything I would need for a few days in case a search party came looking. Where could I go where they wouldn’t look?

I wended my way south taking all the roads closest to the water and the barrier islands, occasionally driving parallel. I stopped at a few beaches. I stopped for some shrimp at a little tiki bar. While some of these islands and keys were built up and lined with high-rise condominiums, there were others that were idyllic; deserted and quiet. That is what directed me. Like a rolling stone, I really loved having no direction known.

I was driving through Fort Myers when I saw an immense liquor store, a mall unto itself. I was giddy when I found my favorite French wine, and it was on sale! I stocked up immediately. I felt that this was a good omen.

By about 6:00 pm, I was searching for a hotel in the city of Naples, down at the bottom of Florida. I’d realized that I had money and credit cards and I could stay wherever I wanted. I was disappointed to find that the hotels were very expensive. Also, they weren’t by the water which I wanted. I wanted the desert island experience. Naples seemed too ostentatious, showy and pretentious for my tastes. No, this was hardly the end of the world.

I pulled up my iPad and poked around to get a hotel app. I found places on the beaches of Sanibel and Captiva Islands, about fifty miles away. I called one place and they said they had something for me so I headed back north. About forty minutes later, I was on Sanibel Island and pulling into the SeaSide Bungalows.

“You the guy that called? I have a unit near the road.”

“Well, I really want quiet. Do you have something on the water? I’m really looking for my own private Margaritaville – the end of the world, so to speak. I don’t want to hear anything, I want tranquility.”

“Hmmm. I don’t have anything like that but one of our sister properties might. Let me make a call.”

I walked down to the water and surveyed the shore. Sanibel is one of the few beaches on which leashed dogs are allowed and there were several off-leash puppies enjoying the water. I scanned the beach and the horizon. I was right in the midst of the resorts and even though it was off-season, there were plenty of people around. I was doubting my luck as I walked back to the office.

“Drive up to the top of the island to Blind Pass. The Spindrifter has something for you.”

I headed up a few miles to a bunch of little bungalows on the both sides of the narrow tip of the island. The gulfside and bayside here were only separated by about a quarter of a mile.

“I got a bungalow for you. It’s under the little bridge that takes you to Captiva. Go take a look.”

The bungalow was a very luxurious, with all the appointments. I assumed it would cost a lot but paying a lot of money for a troll’s house under the bridge didn’t cut it for me…and then there was the road noise off the bridge. I realized that I was being very picky and maybe even pushing it. But what the hell, you take your shot.

Aside: I am very picky when it comes to hotel rooms. Never. ever take the first room offered. Most likely this room will be near the elevator or near the ice machine and management wants to get rid of it first. Refuse it. They will give you a song and dance but stand firm. Be tough. If you turn a couple of rooms down, they will find you a good room. They will satisfy you. It always works. Now, back to the story.

“I don’t know. It’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Well, what is that?”

I gave him the whole “lost in paradise/Margaritaville” spiel and he smiled. “Hold on a second.”

He made a phone call. “Okay. Go over haramidere escort the bridge and head for The Waters resort. See Melissa.”

I thanked him and again headed north. It was closing in on sunset and I wanted to plant myself somewhere already. Within five minutes, I pulled into a very fancy resort on the bay side. Melissa was in the office expecting me. She was a pretty coleen probably around forty. I couldn’t help but notice her deeply tanned cleavage, her killer bod, her freckles and her smiling face.

“Sam tells me that you are looking to escape, is that right?”

“Very much so. What have you got?”

“I have something that you are going to like, I promise. Come with me.”

We hopped into an electric cart and drove one hundred yards down the road before turning into a small lane on the ocean side. We pulled up to half dozen ocean-front bungalows nestled under palm trees. Now this was more like it. But was I willing to piss a lot of money away for a few nights? This would probably cost my left nut. I had my doubts.

“Let me show you the cabins. The one in the middle is the Hospitality Room with ice and vending machines. Take the furthest cabin north, it’s the most isolated. None of the other cabins are occupied at this time.”

“Why? This is an awesome spot.”

“Well, we just completely renovated them. No one has stayed in them yet. Occupancy starts next week.”

We turned to check it out just as the sun was setting into the gulf. We stood mesmerized as the flaming orange ball dropped into the sea, streaking the sky with reds, blues, yellows and purples.

“Wow. That was spectacular!”

“Yes,” she said, “I never tire of it. It’s so beautiful.”

We walked into the bungalow and I was astonished. It was newly refurbished and ultra-comfy, like an old-fashioned New England bed and breakfast. Melissa was talking, “One bedroom, King-size bed, lots of pillows, cable and wi-fi, kitchen (there are coffee set-ups there), bathroom suite, screened in porch…”, but I noticed something on the kitchen table. I walked over to it.

“Hmmm…my lost shaker of salt!”, I was smitten, “I’m afraid to ask…how much per night?”

“Gee, that’s a good one. We just finished the redos and nobody has slept in them yet. Let’s see…you can only stay until Sunday night because all of these are booked solid for several months…mmmm…This goes for five hundred dollars a night in season, more on holidays…you can test it out for me…how about one hundred nineteen a night because I like your style?”

I did a double take! “Whoa! Where do I sign? What’s the gimmick?”

Melissa laughed and shook her red hair. “There is none. I just feel like you’re a good fit to test out our new accommodations. I use my intuition. I like your motivation. Enjoy yourself. I’ll be here if you need me. I’ll have housekeeping put you on the list.” We took care of the necessary paperwork quickly and I took the key.

A cooling breeze came up off the gulf and I sighed. Yeah, this was it. This bungalow was the absolute shit. I emptied my car and moved in. I found the bathroom, a sleek black-tiled affair with a large glass shower enclosure obviously designed for honeymooners. Yes, in no time, I was comfortable.

The sky was a bowl of stars, a dome of twinkles and intermittent streaks. There was a law banning lights on the beach because of nesting sea turtles. The house lights were barely lit. It was so quiet, the only sounds were the small waves lapping the sand. It was still very warm, too. It was about ninety degrees at eleven o’clock. Naked, I stretched on a lounger, poured a glass of wine, noshed on some snacks and filled my pipe with sweet weed. Ah, paradise! I couldn’t believe my good luck. My mind flowed with possibilities and fantasies In the naked outdoors, cares and tensions miles away and the fresh briny air wrapping around me made everything drift away. I unwound and drifted off at one with the world.

Day One

The morning came and I was sprawled out on the bed. I looked at my iPhone and it read eleven o’clock. The sun was high in the sky. I had wasted the morning. No, I didn’t waste it. I really needed that sleep, my first good one in weeks. While my coffee brewed, I threw on a pair of shorts and walked out on the beach. I opened the door and was hit with hot, humid air. It had to be one hundred degrees. I turned the overhead fans on in the porch. I was dripping sweat in no time.

Surprisingly, it was much cooler along the water, only about thirty yards from the bungalow. Since no one was in sight, I dropped my shorts and waded into the warm, blue gulf. How I do love being naked, not to mention, skinny-dipping. After a while of swimming and drifting around, I remembered my coffee. I was holding my shorts when I walked through the stand of palms. I never heard the electric cart.

“I see you’ve got the island fever. Good morning.” Melissa sat in the electric cart not twenty feet away and staring at my soft cock hanging down between my legs.

Having not seen her, I jumped at the sound içerenköy escort of her voice. I placed my shorts in front of my crotch. “You really surprised me! You’ll have to excuse me.”

“Oh no, not at all. I love it! I see naked people around all the time. In fact, one of them might be me!” She laughed and I immediately thought of counting all those freckles on that red coleen but was just a mental flash.

“Well, can I help you? I have coffee brewing. And it’s fucking hot out here…”

I dashed into the house, flashing me ass on the way in. I heard her giggle. Properly attired, I returned to find Melissa standing outside next to the lounger and staring at my pipe. I raced outside and scooped it up. “I’m sorry. I seem to be breaking all the rules.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what you do here as long as nothing is destroyed. Smoke dope, walk around naked…there’s no one here and who cares. Just leave me a hit.” We walked into the house.

“Whew, it’s hot today. Do you want a hit on the pipe?”

“I’d love to but not while I’m working. I just stopped by to see if you needed anything. I’m going over to the market. But if you’ll hold that offer, my partner, Silvio, and I will come by tonight. Maybe we’ll stay overnight in Number Three.” She stood in thought on the threshold for a moment. “The porch fans will make it better, you’ll see, it’ll cool off.”

“Wait a second. Wanna take me over to the general store? I’ll get some supplies, too.”

“Sure. It’s just up the road.”

We talked on the way while I took casual glances at her ample cleavage. I asked if she had always lived there and I found out that she came for a vacation fifteen years ago and never left. She was an acupuncturist and a masseuse; a holistic girl. She told me that she was a wild hippie child when she first arrived. She hooked up with Silvio ten years ago. He’s an artist. They have no kids. This time of the year, the island is very quiet and peaceful and it is her favorite time of the year. I listened intently and wasn’t even distracted by her casual, naturally loose style. I also got that she was letting me see her rack.

The General Store had everything I needed. I picked up a couple of prepared dishes from the cold box, got a quart of milk, grabbed some nosh and headed toward the counter. A display with tee-shirts caught my eye and I had to have “I found my lost shaker of salt on Captiva Island.” Perfect.

We drove back and it was my turn to give her a thumbnail bio. I told her that I was a writer struggling on my latest project and that I might write today. I was tired of my surroundings and needed to find peace. I asked her where there was a good place to eat and she suggested some places on Andy Rosse Street in the center of the little town. Soon, we were back at the bungalow and I was finally going to have my coffee. We bid a friendly goodbye and a “see you later.”

My day was nothing short of perfect. I punctuated the afternoon by swimming in the warm clear waters. The water temperature was in the high eighties, like a warm bath and very relaxing. I also wrote two good paragraphs and my imagination felt free and un-tethered. By late afternoon, I was in the cool shade of the porch sucking wine and weed. I heard the electric cart whir this time and fortunately, I threw on my shorts.

“Hey, want to go to dinner with us? We’ll pick you up at six, okay?” I nodded and she was gone. In my haze, my mind wandered to Melissa’s pubic hair and imagined that it was red, too. I’m so bad.

Promptly at six, Melissa and Sylvio pulled in. “Come on, let’s go,” she said.

“Sylvio, Ray. Ray, Sylvio.” Sylvio was a handsome, lanky Italian. Slim. No ass.

“You are the castaway with a bag of herb, yes?” Sylvio’s continental accent was very pronounced and yet endearing.

“Yes, that is correct. After dinner, we’ll come back and imbibe.”

“I think you are my kind of man.”

Dinner was outside on the deck of The Funky Monkey. We had a bunch of interesting appetizers like Duck Fingers, Buttermilk Shrimp and cold brew to wash it down. I learned that Sylvio had found his way to the island by luck and sheer happenstance. He was traveling the states itinerantly painting when he was hired to paint a mural on an outside wall in Captiva. It’s still there. It became the rage of the island and so Sylvio found himself with all sorts of work. He opened a studio and now, thirty years later, he creates art that is sold in galleries around the country. I admired that because he found a way to live on the island. I found his storytelling to be exuberant and theatrical, full of personality.

“How was this place twenty, thirty years ago?”

“It was not much different…less houses…only one hotel…a very tight little community. And every year, we’d add a new character or two. One was me, one was Silvio. Sil, tell Ray how you seduced me.”

He grinned, “Oh, but men don’t share such stories. And are you sure that I seduced you? It seems to me that maybe you were too easily seduced.”

“Yeah, you had me at buon innovia escort giorno. And, maybe, it was a mutual seduction. I was a wild child…” She left the thought hanging.

We whirred back to the bungalow. It was about seven-thirty, still hot (maybe ninety) and still sunny with a blue, cloudless sky. I opened a bottle of Chinon and lit the bowl. Melissa had brought Margarita mix and a bottle of Cuervo Especiale. She sat them down in the kitchen.

“So how did you sleep last night? Was the bed okay?”

“I slept like a baby. The bed is awesome. I fell out looking at the stars. It was just what I needed. I can’t thank you enough.”

“She was attracted to you,” said Silvio. “That sealed the deal. And, I must tell you, that when she saw your cock today…”

“Silvio! I can’t believe you said that!”

“So, it’s not true? You described it in detail…the way it was hanging down, the whole thing.”


Sensing her discomfort, I spoke up. “Melissa, it’s okay. I’m not surprised that you caught me naked. I was naked all day. I could easily become a nudist. I guess you could say that I’m an opportunistic naturist.”

“To be honest, Silvio and I are frequently nude on this stretch of beach.”

The wine and the weed were kicking in. Silvio and Melissa were sort of falling into each other. I was sliding down the lounger like a long oozing gel. And the sun was now setting. What a scene.

“I never could understand why Floridians aren’t naturally nude all the time with this fucking heat and humidity. The Indians had it right, greeting the Conquistadors in their birthday suits. They should have kept it that way.”

“You learn to wear less,” offered Silvio. “I usually wear a tee shirt, shorts and underwear.”

“I don’t even wear underwear,” I said.

“My balls sweat…”

“Jesus, Silvio!”

“I’m just saying.”

“Boxers or Tighty-Whities?” I asked with a big smile.

“Now, you, too?” she said exasperately but I could tell that she was enjoying this.

“You have it worse,” I said, “with so much more to wear…”

“Si,” said Silvio, “with those beautiful breasts encased all day. Your tits must sweat, too!” He had a nice way with words.

“Of course, they do.” Under her tank-top, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, pulling it out of her shirt. “Now that feels a lot better!” I couldn’t agree more as I ogled her shamelessly.

We laid on the lounges and listened to the quiet. Without a moon above, the silence seemed stronger and more like a force existing in negative space. I relit the bowl. And then, I felt the heat and humidity all at once. Wow, here it was night and I was still stuck to my shirt, which I pulled off. I took another hit and passed it to Silvio, who took a long toke and then suddenly bounded out of the lounger and ran over to his cart.

“This heat is bullshit. I’m going for a swim.” He’d retrieved a lantern from the cart. He set it down on the lounger and stripped off his shirt. Next came his shorts revealing a little black bikini number that flatters thin Italian men with no asses.

“Go for it, baby!” cried Melissa.

He smiled, did a pirouette, and shed his drawers. As I said, this guy had no ass. When he turned around, I took a good look at his average-sized, uncut dick. “Ta da!” He picked up the lantern and headed down to the beach watching for nesting turtles.

“Now that’s not a bad idea! Silvio, wait up!” I got up and stripped down. It was quick – no underwear. I looked at Melissa and said, “We’ve been here before.” I raced away.

“I’ll get towels.” I heard her call out as I caught up to Silvio, who was at the water’s edge setting the lantern down.

“It’s a good thing there are no rays around now so you don’t have to dance in the water, they’re further up north now. Nothing to worry about except maybe shark.” He jumped into the water laughing with me close behind. I dove in and promptly crashed into him, my hands thrashing about. He yelled, “Hey, don’t grab my ass!”

I laughed so hard. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t find it!” I got my balance back and started to swim parallel to the shore, still laughing.

“I didn’t tell you to stop!”

Melissa was coming, carrying another lantern. When she set it down, I could see her body in a backlit silhouette.”Hey, you two, if there’s gonna be anyone playin’ grabass, it’ll be me. And don’t you forget that!” She jumped into the water and immediately goosed Silvio.

“What is with everyone and my ass?”

“I love your little ass,” taking a deep grab as he squealed.

“Hey, cut that out. Get a room!”

After about fifteen minutes of stoned goofy touchy-feely play in the bath-water-with-waves, we trudged back to the bungalow. I wrapped myself in a towel and sat down. I drank down my glass of wine and lit up. We were sitting around a small table on the porch. I was surprised that neither Melissa nor Silvio had covered themselves. I could not help but look at them and their parts. Melissa was covered in freckles like a good redhead I knew she’d be. Her large breasts gently sloped up to gracefully taper into perfectly pointy pink nipples. Yes, they were perfection. Under her left breast was a small tattoo of a heart under a palm tree. Her flat stomach led to a small trimmed triangle of red curls, followed by a shaved labia, accenting large pink lips. I mentally trailed down her long legs when she cleared her throat.

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