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Cuffs, oil, and a waterbed.

She sat up in the lounge, letting her enticing mammary treasures sway and settle, explicitly proclaiming her penchant for another sex mate. She pinched the other nipple so that their stiffness was balanced and conspicuous. She scanned the beach for skulking male walkers.

A middle aged muscular man was strolling by alone. His budging speedo trumpeted his grand packet of manliness. He was exploring the smorgasbord of delectable female flesh, looking for an easy hookup. Marita lowered her bug shield shades, peering over the tops to coyly attract his attention.

He saw her gazing his way; they made eye contact and he turned in her direction. Marita casually stood and let the man follow at a safe distance, her blond hair windblown. He ogled her toned and tanned ass as she strode back across the soft sand.

Marita raised her arms to capture her hair in a handheld ponytail; her boobs swayed in time with her steps, giving sidewinder peek-a-boos that would surely maintain his interest. She hazarded a peek over her shoulder, glad to see her quarry continued to follow.

She lingered at the resort's beach entrance, where her prospective paramour caught up and, in a French accent, politely introduced himself as Francois. She simply hugged his bicep into her soft bare boob and led him inside and onward to her lusty lair.

Meanwhile, in route elsewhere, Otto asked his guide's name, learning she was called Kanai. She led the muscular black man to an outlying area of the resort where a separate grand building was secluded in its own fenced compound. She took him through the broad central atrium to the enclosed swimming pool opposite the beach entrance. She silently motioned him on, turned and left him there alone. But he was not alone.

Seated at a poolside table was a fashionably dressed Japanese woman, picking at small black spheres in a tray. She would examine each, holding them up to the sunlight, peering closely, as if trying to see through them. Then she placed the stone in one of several cups. Otto walked to her table.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" she queried, acknowledging his presence without looking his way and continuing her size and clarity sorting.

Otto picked one up in his giant fingers and held it against the sunlight. It was opaque but the black surface shimmered with iridescence, just like his jet black skin did when he perspired. The prim Oriental woman continued her monologue.

"These black pearls can only be grown in these waters. It's a magical art that we inherited from our ancestors and we excel in its practice. TWA has licensed several protected farm beds where we grow them."

Otto admired the black gems but wondered why he was called to this remote revenue venue. What did they expect him to do? He was not a gemologist or an aqua-farmer. She sensed his confusion.

"Please, have a seat, Otto. I'm Mistress Pearl, the housemother of this TWA remote campus. We have called you here to inspect our facilities and critique our curriculum. We host a series of seminars where TWA coeds from other continents receive specialized training in fellatio. We want to perfect that syllabus."

Otto nodded knowingly. He was especially well equipped for that activity and willing to help in any way he could.

"Tomorrow, we will take a tour of the oyster pearl beds. Our students free dive to work the beds and retrieve the gems. Their vocational proficiency is governed by their breath holding ability. Does that sound like a skill useful in the poise curriculum? Dual purpose training for resource harvestings and poise enhancement?"

Ms. Pearl smiled broadly as Otto fathomed her meaning. He imagined his intended masculine role and was eager to get started with examining the training regimen.

His thoughts were interrupted by a ruckus at the building exit. Half a dozen junior and senior coeds scampered onto the pool deck, plunging headlong towards Ms. Pearl's table. Unexpectedly finding Otto there, the group bumped together, braking to a semi-stately walk as they lined abreast for the introductions.


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