The clothes waiting for them on the bed were not clothes at all, really. Greg held up what the resort had provided: loose linen pants in a cream color, so thin they were nearly translucent, and a matching shirt that draped open at the chest, secured only by a single cord. No underwear. No socks. And simple leather sandals that exposed the entire foot.

Dina's outfit was similar: a slip of a dress in the same cream linen, cut low in the front and high on the thighs, with thin straps that crossed in the back and left her shoulders bare. The fabric was so lightweight that her nipples would be visible when they hardened, which they already were as she held the garment against her body.

"They want us practically naked," Greg said, though his voice held no objection. The programming from his massage with Linny still hummed in his subconscious, a warm acceptance of whatever the resort provided.

"They want us comfortable," Dina corrected, slipping the dress over her head. The linen settled against her skin, clinging to her curves. She turned to look in the mirror and gasped softly. Her breasts were clearly outlined, the dark circles of her areolas faintly visible through the fabric. 

"You look like you're begging to be fucked," Greg said. He stepped behind her, his hands finding her hips through the thin material, his cock tenting the loose pants. 

"Maybe I am."

Dina pressed back against him, feeling his hardness, her pussy clenching at the memory of their interrupted session in the relaxation room. "We have dinner reservations," she reminded him, though her voice was thick with desire. "Elara said not to be late."

"Elara said," Greg echoed automatically, and the phrase triggered something in both of them: a strong need to obey and be good guests. They separated reluctantly, Greg adjusting his erection in the loose pants, Dina smoothing her dress over her hips.

The walk to the restaurant was a journey through a transformed world. The resort had shifted into evening mode, the corridors dimly lit with amber lights that cast long shadows. The music was everywhere, as always, but now it had a different quality: a deeper bass, slower rhythms, a sensual pulse. Greg found himself walking in time with it, his hips swaying slightly, his body relaxed and open.

His hard cock bobbing ahead of him, impossible to hide, even if he'd wanted to.

Other guests passed them in the halls, similarly dressed in revealing resort wear. A man with silver hair nodded to them, his own erect cock clearly visible through his linen pants, tenting the fabric obscenely. He didn't try to hide it, and Greg didn't look away. A woman with dark skin and breasts even larger than Linny's walked past, her nipples hard and pressing against her dress, her eyes glazed with that familiar haze.

"Everyone's so... open," Dina whispered, her hand finding Greg's. She felt the warmth between her legs growing, the mango nectar still working in her system, keeping her perpetually on the edge of need.

The restaurant was called The Tide Pool, and it occupied the western edge of the resort, a vast open space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the darkening ocean. The sun was setting, painting the water in bands of orange and purple, and the view would have been breathtaking if the interior hadn't been equally captivating.

Tables were arranged throughout the space, but the traditional definition of "dining" seemed to have been abandoned. At the nearest table, a woman in her forties with blonde hair was bent over the white tablecloth, her dress hiked up around her waist, while a man half her age pounded into her from behind. Their food sat untouched beside them, growing cold.

Further in, a group of four sat in a circular booth, but they weren't eating from plates. A waitress lay across their table, her legs spread wide, her pussy shaved and glistening and exposed beneath her hitched up apron. The woman seated between her legs was clearly making a meal out of the waitress's pussy, while the others' mouths had found her tits and lips.

Beside Greg, Dina was openly fondling herself through the thin sheet she wore.

"Welcome to The Tide Pool," a hostess said, appearing beside them. She was young, perhaps twenty-two, with red hair and freckles across her nose and chest. Her uniform consisted of a short apron that barely covered her pussy, her breasts bare pierced and massive and decorated with small silver bells that tinkled when she moved. "Table for two?"

"Yes," Greg managed, his eyes drawn to the bells, to the way they hung from her pierced nipples, swaying slightly.

"Excellent. Follow me, please."

She led them through the maze of tables, past scenes of escalating debauchery. A man sat alone, a woman's head bobbing in his lap under the tablecloth. Two women kissed passionately at the bar, their hands between each other's legs, fingers moving in synchronized rhythm. A couple in their sixties sat feeding each other dessert, but the woman was topless, her sagging breasts covered in chocolate sauce that the man licked off with obvious delight.

"Your server will be Emma. She'll be with you shortly to discuss the specials. Enjoy your evening." She gave her tits a shake, letting the bells jingle softly before turning to leave.

The menus sat untouched on the table while the pair stared out at all the activity around them. Dark patches began to form on each of their outfits as Dina got wetter and wetter and Greg began to leak precum.

"Good evening, I'm Emma, and I'll be taking care of you tonight."

The voice came from beside their table, and they both jumped as they were pulled from their voyeurism to find their server had arrived. Emma was stunning: a vision of voluptuous femininity that made Dina feel small and Greg feel hungry. 

Her body commanded attention. Emma's uniform consisted of a white apron wrapped around her waist and nothing else. Her full, round breasts heaved with each breath and Greg made no attempt not to stare. Neither did his wife, not that he noticed.

"Welcome to The Tide Pool," Emma continued. "Have you had a chance to look over our menu?"

"No," they said together, unable to fully form anything more coherent.

"First time here?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yeah..."

"The restaurant can be a bit overwhelming at first, but trust me you get used to it. Besides, many of the common areas will look like this. People are best when they're free and open."

"Free and open," Greg found himself repeating.

"It's good you haven't made up your minds yet, anyway," Emma chirped, "Since I haven't been able to tell you about the special."

She produced a small card from her apron pocket, presenting it to them with both hands. The card was simple, elegant, with a wave motif:

TONIGHT'S SPECIAL: EMMA  
Serving: Table 12 (Your Table)  
Preparation: Fresh and eager  
Serving Suggestion: Enjoy immediately, while warm

Greg stared at the card, then up at Emma. She was watching him with those sparkling eyes, her hand resting on her own breast, fingers toying with the button of her vest.

"You're... one of the specials?" Dina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I am," Emma confirmed, stepping closer. She leaned down so that her tits dangled and her ass thrust out toward Dina's face. She reached for Greg's hand, and he let her take it, let her guide his palm to her breast, pressing it against the warm, heavy weight of her flesh. "I'm available to be enjoyed, if you'd like. I'm very... accommodating."

Dina's eyes widened, but found themselves fixed on the round globes in front of her, not really hearing the proposal Emma was making to her husband.

Greg's hand closed involuntarily around her breast, feeling the softness, the heat, the way her nipple hardened against his palm through the thin fabric. 

"I don't know..." Greg said, still unsure about things now that he was so far removed from his trance and his lemon drink.

"That's okay!" Emma straightened, her smile unwavering, unfazed by the refusal. "The special is available throughout your meal. Just say the word, and I'll be here." She gently removed Greg's hand from her breast, bringing his fingers to her lips, kissing them softly. "I'll get you two something from the bar while you decide."

She wandered away and Dina looked at her husband.

"You didn't want the special?" she asked as she pulled her dress up to stick a finger in her slit.

But before Greg could respond, the hostess was back, tits jingling. 

"Was Emma not to your satisfaction?" the woman asked.

"What?" Greg stammered, eyes again fixed on the bells. "Um no nothing like that..."

The hostess groped the undersides of her breasts, causing the bells to make their sound and flash in the candlelight.

"Perhaps you'd like Linny to serve you again?"

"Linny?" Dina asked, pulling her own eyes away from the bells for just a moment.

"That was Greg's massage therapist. She noted on your guest file that you had a wonderful time with her earlier. If you'd prefer her over Emma, I'm sure we can get her added to the menu."

Greg could barely think. The bells. The breasts. The sounds of fucking coming from all around. The memory of Linny's tits wrapped around his cock bouncing up and down... Just like the bells...

"Do you remember what Linny taught you, Greg?"

"I should be open to all experiences here," Greg said in a monotone. "Open to the staff."

"What else?"

"I want to surrender. I want to obey. I want to accept all the pleasure that's offered."

"That's right!" She turned to Dina. "And what did Philip teach you, Dina?"

Dina's mind had begun to feel a vague unease at Greg's replies, but then Philip's voice floated back into her brain.

"No guilt. No shame. No consequence."

"Good girl." Her hands continued to bounce her bejeweled nipples. "So I will ask again. Greg, would you rather have Emma or Linny this evening?"

"Emma," he answered immediately.

"Wonderful!" The hostess snapped her fingers and the pair blinked and sat up a little straighter. "I'm glad you decided."

As she retreated back to her station by the door, Emma returned with their drinks. 

"A Shark Bite for the man to really get the blood flowing," she said, placing a tall glass of red liquid in front of Greg. "And a Melonade for the missus. It can really help round things out."

Dina's drink was violently green and smelled sweeter than anything.

"So," Emma said with a knowing smile. "Have you decided?"

"I'm having you," Greg said immediately.

"I'm thrilled," Emma replied. "And Dina?"

"Just this, I think," Dina replied downing her drink in one gulp. "Maybe a couple of them."

"I can do that. You drink yours, too, Greg. I want you good and ready for me when I come back."

She left them again, and Greg lifted the glass. The liquid was cold, slightly viscous, and when it touched his tongue, it exploded with flavor. Heat roared through him like a beast. He felt his blood run hot and surge into his cock. What was already hard became harder than he'd ever seen it or felt it.

"Good?" Dina asked.

"Incredible," Greg breathed, taking another sip. He couldn't help but to pull his shaft out and start stroking.

"My god," Dina said, staring at it. "Is that all for her?"

"I don't know," Greg replied, mind starting to feel foggy. He couldn't be getting drunk from just a couple sips. But he found it impossible to think complicated thoughts. "Maybe..."

"She is very hot," Dina remarked, eyes fixed on his hand's movements.

"So hot."

Dina blushed with jealousy and... something else.

Greg found it increasingly difficult to focus. The room seemed to pulse around him, the music louder, the sexual energy palpable. He watched a woman at the bar climb onto the counter and spread her legs, watched the bartender bury his face in her cunt while patrons cheered and continued eating their meals. He watched a man lead another server by a leash to a private booth.

"You're staring," Dina noted, but she was staring too, her eyes landing on a table across the room where Elara had appeared.

Elara was naked, her perfect body glowing in the candlelight, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She was on her knees before an older woman. She was easily in her sixties, but with the body of someone much younger as if enhanced by some surgeon's scalpel or mysterious power. The woman had breasts that defied gravity and logic, each the size of a watermelon, resting on the table before her as Elara licked and sucked at her pussy with obvious devotion.

"Those breasts," Dina whispered, awe in her voice. "They're enormous."

"Too big for her body," Greg agreed, his hand still stroking himself openly. 

Elara's face was buried between the woman's thighs, her tongue working diligently, her hands reaching up to knead those impossible breasts. The older woman's head was thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, her hands gripping Elara's head, holding her in place.

When Emma returned, she carried a full tray of the green drinks for Dina, who began to down them with a frantic need. Emma noted Greg's raging erection and smiled. "Looks like the Shark Bite is working."

Then, Emma climbed onto the table in front of Greg. She settled herself on the white tablecloth, her legs dangling over the edge, then slowly, deliberately, spread them wide.

She wasn't wearing underwear. Her pussy was shaved smooth, glistening with wetness, the lips slightly parted to reveal the pink flesh within. The scent was wonderful, like mango and honey.

"Look at her," Dina breathed, and Greg wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. "Look at how wet she is. She wants you, Greg. She wants your tongue."

Greg didn't need further encouragement. The drink had removed his hesitation, his restraint, his last vestiges of propriety. He leaned forward, his hands finding Emma's thighs, spreading her wider, and buried his face in her cunt.

The taste was intoxicating. Greg moaned against her flesh, his tongue finding her clit, circling it, flicking it, then sliding down to probe her entrance. Emma's hips bucked, her hands finding her own breasts, squeezing them, pinching her nipples through her vest.

"Yes," Emma sighed, her head falling back, her eyes closing. "That's it. Eat me. Taste me. I'm your special tonight, Greg. Consume me."

Dina watched, transfixed, her hand slipping under her own dress, finding her wet pussy again, rubbing her clit in slow circles. She'd never watched Greg with another woman, had never thought she would enjoy it, but the programming and the atmosphere and the sheer eroticism of the moment had her on fire.

Nothing was cheating here.

She moaned Philip's name softly as she watched.

She watched Greg's tongue work, watched his face glisten with Emma's juices, watched his hips thrust involuntarily against the chair as he ate. Emma was moaning now, loud and unrestrained, her breasts heaving as she approached orgasm.

"Don't stop," Emma begged. "Don't stop. Make me cum. Make me cum on your face. I'm yours to use. I'm everyone's to use. Please, please, please..."

Greg doubled his efforts, his tongue pressing harder, faster, his fingers finding Emma's entrance and sliding inside, curling upward to find her spot. He was lost in it, lost in the taste and the smell and the submission, his cock throbbing painfully, untouched with both his hands digging into his meal's thighs, needing release but dedicated to this task first.

Emma came with a scream that echoed through the restaurant, her pussy clenching and spraying across Greg's mindless face, her thighs clamping around his head, her body convulsing. Greg kept licking, kept sucking, drinking her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure until she pushed him away, gasping, oversensitive.

"Good boy," Emma panted, climbing down from the table and onto her knees, her legs unsteady. "Such a good boy. Now how about some dessert?"

Greg could only moan, so Emma twisted around to look at Dina.

"What do you think, Dina. Does Greggy deserve dessert?"

"Uh huh," Dina mumbled as she stared at her husband's throbbing cock. It was so needy. So ready. If Emma didn't do something about it, Dina would have to.

"I agree," Emma said and Greg's cock disappeared into her lips. Dina moaned like she could feel it herself, and again, Philip's name came from her throat. The memory of how wonderfully he had filled her mouth. How hot and sweet he'd tasted.

Emma bobbed her head up and down. Greg's hips bucked unconsciously. There was nothing conscious left about him in that moment. He grunted. He gyrated. He twitched. But he didn't think a thing.

Someone was handing Emma another green shot and she tipped it back into her mouth, wishing more than anything that it was cum instead.

"Are you close, Greg?"

Grunt.

"I want you to cum all over my tits, Greg. I saw you staring. I know you love the way they bounce. I know you want to dump your hot, sticky load all over them, don't you?"

Whine.

"Do it now, Greg. Have your dessert. Cum on me. Cum on my big bimbo tits."

Scream.

Greg exploded and it was more that Dina had ever seen him cum. In their marriage, she'd let him cum in her mouth, in her cunt, on her face, and on her tits. She'd spit and swallowed. And never in all those years had she seen him shoot a load that size. He must love Emma's tits more than he ever loved hers.

The pang of jealousy vanished in a heartbeat. That's what this place was for. To explore and fuck and find everything that was missing anywhere else. Nothing was cheating here. Jealousy turned neatly into envy that Emma got so much.

"Oh my," Emma giggled as Greg's seed ran down into her deep, deep cleavage. "I think you made enough dessert for two. Dina, come help me with all this cream."

"Yes, Emma!" she yipped as she slid from her chair to the floor beside the waitress. Without waiting for any more instruction, Dina simply dropped her head into Emma's cleavage, mouth open and tongue out. She lapped at the darkness, taking in as much of her husband's cum as she could. He tasted like lemons. Emma, for her part, was scooping globs into her own mouth as it dripped from her nipples. 

When Dina picked up her head, her face was completely smeared with it. Her eyes were rolled back, her makeup was running, and her tongue was lapping wildly at the corners of her mouth, trying to pull more in. Her hands rubbed at her face, pushing the smeared and quickly drying fluids toward her mouth. She was like a woman possessed.

"I think you've got it, darling," Emma said with a chuckle, kissing Dina and pushing what little she had in her own mouth into Greg's wife's. Dina met the kiss with desperation and she felt her cunt clench and gush at the taste of Emma's lips.

Emma stood and thanked the pair for a wonderful dinner experience. She stumbled away, her pussy still dripping, her vest askew, and Greg sat back, his face shining with her essence, his eyes glazed with lust and triumph.

"That was..." Dina started, but she didn't have words. Her fingers were still tracing circles around her lips. She never finished the sentence, and Greg's mind was still too addled to finish it for her.

After a few moments, Greg's eyes began to refocus. He picked his head up from its limp position, flopped back on the headrest. He looked at his wife, messy and sticky and smiling.

They left the restaurant in a daze, their bodies humming with unspent arousal, their minds fogged with pleasure and possibility. The walk back to their room was slow. They got lost twice in their respective dazes. They passed Philip in a distant hallway and Dina's pussy throbbed at the sight of him. He smiled and she told Greg that he had been her masseuse. Greg glanced down and noticed the man's cockhead was poking out from the leg of his shorts. An image of Dina stroking that monster with both hands came into his mind and he smiled a wide, dreamy smile.

He didn't even notice when Philip reached up and pinched Dina's nipple, he was so lost in his own fantasies.

"See," Philip said as he let Dina suck quickly on one of his fingers. "He understands. You belong to us all now."

"Yes, Philip," Dina whispered as he pulled his finger from her lips.

"Come find me tomorrow. I'll be in the gardens all day."

She squeezed her own chest as they parted ways. 

"He's so big," Greg said as they walked, still with that far-away smile.

"And he tastes wonderful," she replied. Greg felt a little orgasm roll through him and his shorts darkened in the front.

The cool night air hit them as they stepped onto their balcony, finally back in their room. They gasped, the shocking beauty bringing them slightly back to reality. Their room was on the third floor, overlooking the ocean, and the balcony was private, enclosed by glass railings that offered an unobstructed view of the stars and the sea. The music was here too, softer now, a lullaby that urged them to relax, to reflect, to surrender to the night.

They settled into the lounge chairs, side by side, looking up at the vast expanse of stars. The sky was clear, the Milky Way visible as a band of light across the darkness, and the ocean below was a black mirror reflecting the heavens.

"It's beautiful," Dina said, her hand finding Greg's.

"It's perfect," Greg agreed. "This place. This trip. Us."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the music, feeling the warmth of the night air on their skin. Greg's cock was still hard, pressing against his loose, stained pants, and Dina's pussy was still wet, still aching, still ready.

"Look," Greg said softly, pointing to another balcony a few floors down and to the left.

A couple was there, a man and a woman, similarly dressed in resort linen. They were standing at the railing, the woman bent forward, her hands gripping the glass, her dress hiked up around her waist. The man was behind her, his pants around his ankles, his cock buried deep in her pussy, fucking her slowly, deliberately, their bodies moving in time with the music.

"They're fucking," Dina whispered, her hand moving to her breast, pinching her nipple through the thin linen. "They're fucking on the balcony, where anyone can see."

"After what we saw at the restaurant are you really surprised?" Greg laughed, his hand finding his cock, stroking himself through his pants. "Do you think they know we're watching?"

"I don't think they care," Dina said, and she spread her legs, her hand sliding under her dress, finding her clit again. "I think they want an audience."

Greg pulled his cock free, stroking it openly, watching the couple fuck while his wife masturbated beside him. The scene was perfect. The stars above, the ocean below, the music wrapping around them like a blanket, the couple's bodies moving in synchronized rhythm, the wet sounds of their fucking carrying on the night air.

"Touch yourself," Greg commanded, his voice thick with need. "Let me watch you while we watch them."

Dina obeyed, her fingers working her clit in tight circles, her other hand pulling down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts to the night air, to her husband, to anyone who might be watching from other balconies like they were. She was beyond shame now, beyond modesty, a creature of pure sensation and desire.

The couple on the other balcony increased their pace, the man's thrusts becoming harder, faster, the woman's moans becoming louder, more desperate. They were putting on a show, Dina realized, performing for their unseen audience, embracing the exhibitionism that the resort encouraged.

Spurred on by sudden courage, Dina whooped over to them.

They both turned and saw Greg and Dina, both in the throws of their own pleasure. They smiled widely and waved.

"Fuck they love it," Dina whined. "They fucking love that we're watching. They love that we're watching them fuck, Greg. This place is amazing. Oh fuck."

"I'm going to cum," Greg warned, his hand moving faster on his cock, his eyes darting between the fucking couple and his own wife's exposed, masturbating body.

"Cum, Greg. Cum while you watch those total strangers fuck. Cum while your wife is cheering them on."

They synchronized, their hands moving in rhythm, their breathing matching, their eyes locked on the other couple who were now screaming, convulsing, cumming together in a display of perfect, primal release.

Greg erupted first, his cum shooting into the night air, spurt after spurt of hot white fluid that caught the starlight. Dina followed seconds later, her orgasm crashing through her, her pussy clenching on her fingers, her body arching off the lounge chair as she cried out to the sky.

They lay there panting, spent but energized, their bodies glowing with satisfaction and anticipation.

The other couple cheered up at them, seeing the effect they had, then retreated back into their room.

"This trip," Dina said, her voice soft and dreamy, "is going to be amazing."

"Beyond amazing," Greg agreed, turning his head to look at her. Her dress was still pulled down, her breasts exposed, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. She looked like a goddess, like a creature of pure sexuality. "I feel like... like I've been waiting my whole life to be this open. This free."

"Me too," Dina said. She turned to face him, her eyes serious despite the haze of pleasure. "Can I tell you something? Something I've never told anyone?"

"Anything," Greg promised. Then, as if possessed, he quoted Linny's voice from earlier. "There is no shame here. Only pleasure."

"Only pleasure," Dina agreed blankly before she continued. "I've always... I've always fantasized about being with a woman," Dina admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not just being eaten by one, but really being with one. Touching her, tasting her, making her cum. I've been afraid to tell you, afraid you'd think I was... I don't know. Not satisfied with you."

Greg reached out, taking her hand, squeezing it. "I've fantasized about watching you with a woman," he confessed. "About seeing you pleasure someone else, seeing you lose control in a whole new way. I've also... I've fantasized about being with someone else while you watch. About being used, completely, by someone who just wants my body for their pleasure."

Dina smiled, a slow, sensual curve of her lips. "Emma?"

"Emma," Greg confirmed. "And Linny. And Elara. And fuck, maybe Philip. I don't know. I just know I want to try everything. It's not something I've ever thought about before but tonight when I saw his cock... I want to experience everything this place has to offer."

"I want to be tied up," Dina said, the words coming easier now, freed by the night and the music and the intimacy of the moment. "I want to be blindfolded and touched by strangers, not knowing who's doing what. I want to be used by multiple people at once. I want to be the center of attention, the object of desire, the free-use slut they want us to be."

"I want to be taken deeper," Greg rambled. "I don't know what this place is doing to us, but I want more. I want to lose myself completely, to become a puppet for pleasure, to serve and be served without thought or hesitation. I want to fuck you while you're out of your mind. While you're completely out of your mind with pleasure. I want to try things I can't even name yet."

They sat there, sharing their deepest fantasies, their darkest desires, things they had never spoken aloud, never admitted even to themselves. The resort had unlocked something in them, had broken down barriers that years of marriage had built unknowingly.

"By the end of this weekend," Dina said, her voice full of determination and desire, "we're going to make all of it real. Every fantasy. Every desire. Everything we've ever wanted to try, we're going to do it here."

"Promise?" Greg asked, his cock already stirring again, ready for more, always ready now.

"I promise," Dina swore. "I promise to be open to everything. To say yes to every experience. To surrender completely to True Tide."

"Surrender completely to True Tide," he agreed.

They kissed then, under the stars, surrounded by the ever-present music, their bodies still warm from their orgasms, their minds alight with possibility. The night was young. The weekend had barely begun. And True Tide had so much more to show them.