Hedonism II

Hedonism II was the world's most iconic adult playground.

You hear stories about white women going to Jamaica? Or those horror stories of boyfriends learning a big, black cock rearranged their girl's insides? This was where it happened.

The resort was split into two, the Nude Side where all clothes must be off for everyone’s comfort and the Prude Side where clothes were allowed. Ninety percent of residents party on the Nude Side. Most couples spent the first day drinking, getting used to the place, and figuring out what to do.

Not Selina or Aaron. He lied about going with Cassandra. His Asian lover was still passed out.

First and foremost was getting there. Aaron and Selina walked arm in arm on a long, wooden bridge. There was the port entrance and there was the island entrance. Being in Jamaica and not having Hedonism II as their first destination on sea, the bridge was the only option. Although saying “only” was an exaggeration, there were a trio of bridges.

At the end of the bridge was a small ticket checking area with two guards. Locals Jamaicans, slightly broad, with bulging speedos. The men weren't actually big, only stuffing their speedos to look big and intimidate the unworthy. If you cannot handle your girl seeing bigger cocks, don't bother, was the message.

Selina giggled. Buying tickets took no issue with her wealth. Casually, a hand on her hip, Selina handed the golden VIP ticket. The first guard examined the ticket and scanned it with interest and then with a literal scanner.

“You may enter. Will you be heading to the Nude Side or Prude Side?”

“What a silly question, the Nude Side,” Selina exclaimed. She took off her top first. “Ah, I love Jamaican men, what with your silly little cocks.”

The guard straightened up. “Little?”

“That's right! It's adorable, really. Trust me, there is nothing wrong with not having a BBC, boys. It's perfectly normal to be small.”

“We ain't small.”

Selina was a slutty beauty in a black bikini. She smiled and laughed and stripped confidently. Aaron, though handsome, was in swim trunks and rather slow. He didn’t seem hung, although they could see the faint outline of a bulge. But this kind of confidence was semi-common in a place like this. Every stud that entered here thought they were hot shit.

“Swim trunks off, please,” the guard said, pointing to Aaron.

Essentially saying, ”Let's see what your boyfriend's got!”

Aaron didn’t blink and yanked his swim trunks down. Thwap! A flaccid schlong bigger than any dildo, bigger than any expectations. The beefy monster was out. Cue the twisted, pain expressions. Most of the time, the guards could get away even when there was a genuinely hung guy. But this…

This was easily the biggest they had seen. Out of the tens of thousands that entered this beach, Aaron had suddenly skyrocketed to the very top.

“Aw, let me guess: now you're contemplating every orgasm you've given a woman.” Selina hooked arms around Aaron and marched forward. She winked at the guards and added, “Spoilers, yes, they faked it.”

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Not a fucking thing the guards in fake speedos could say. Not a thing anyone could say. There was a small lobby to cross. Certain couples who had cold feet stayed here until they were ready to go. Seeing Aaron, some boyfriends yanked their girlfriends and fled.

No way they were competing with him.

Through the open lobby and onto the stone pathway that wound toward the shoreline. Hedonism II stretched before him like two worlds stitched together by the same strip of white sand.

The first fork in the path came with an understated sign:

Nude Side →

Prude Side ←

To the left, the “Prude Side” curved around a sheltered bay, lined with low-slung, cream-colored buildings. Lush hedges shielded clusters of lounge chairs and shaded hammocks. The pool here was expansive and serene, with a swim-up bar whose tiled roof matched the faded turquoise of the sea beyond. A few thatched cabanas dotted the edge, and further inland, small garden courtyards led to modestly sized dining patios and quiet reading nooks.

To the right, the “Nude Side” opened up without pretense. The landscaping was more minimal here, as if intentionally drawing the eye to the vast sweep of open sand and wanting to be a pure beach. The buildings had a more playful color palette—splashes of coral, yellow, and teal—arranged around a central pool with a swim-up bar. This second, larger pool was closer to the beach itself and probably the main attraction of Hedonism itself. The hot tub sat just beyond, half-hidden by palms, with steps leading directly onto the sand. Past that, the shoreline was less curved and more exposed, offering uninterrupted views of the horizon and the sun’s slow shimmer off the waves.

There were paths everywhere. To the central pool, to the beach, to the hot tub, everywhere. Couples everywhere too.

Between the two sides, a shared stretch of sand acted as a neutral corridor, where paths crisscrossed toward the main dining hall, the water-sports hut, and the glass-walled gym. Even the air seemed different between the two zones—quieter and more relaxed on one side, brighter and more uninhibited on the other—yet the same ocean breeze flowed freely between them, carrying the scent of saltwater and grilled seafood.

D1 Athletes and Star City stags populated a surprising amount of the Nude Side. This was the part of Jamaica that got plenty of tourists, so local elites took up a good portion too. Jamaican or American or whatever, it did not matter. Any man who saw Aaron, their balls tightened up. The thought of, ‘No fucking way that’s real.’ But here was the thing with men, they knew when something was pumped with random shit or if it was natural. Aaron was all natural and still the biggest.

Selina was cackling the whole way through. She loved the attention.

“They love you,” Selina said, giggling. Indeed, with the male envy came the female desire. If Selina wasn’t an equally perfect specimen, a whole crowd would surround him. It was a matter of levels, of understanding one’s place. Aaron needed someone on Selina’s level, nothing more, nothing less.

That was when he overheard a certain conversation.

“Fucking small chicks to make yourselves feel big….” This black woman wasn’t Jamaican. The afro and the confidence, it was…

“I’m the daughter of Lucius Fox. I have higher expectations.”

Tamara Fox, here of all places? What a surprise. Tamara sighed, pointedly agitating the three men in front of her. They weren’t just any men, Aaron recognized them. They were NBA players and they showed it with their height. The shortest of the lot was six-foot-eight.

Tamara Fox had a fat ass and was five-foot-nine. They weren’t out of her league per say. The issue was her past. He could tell with a brief glance that Tamara refused to date or fuck any man after Aaron. She tried, she did, but there just wasn’t the chemistry. Some people treated her too highly. She was a billionaire’s daughter after all. Others were gold-diggers and many just didn’t have the dick to clap her cheeks.

Only one man did.

But she tried to move on. She came here searching for that and she wound up pissing up literal NBA players because her standards were uncharacteristically high.

“Why you…!”

Aaron had to take responsibility for turning Tamara Fox into this. Into a woman with standards so high that it just annoyed other guys.

“She's with me, men.”

Aaron's thwap, thwap, thwap of a meaty cock made an entrance. Instant impact. Instant respect. The male ego was a simple thing.

Tamara raised a brow, only to turn and see her favourite white boy. “Aaron! Oh my god, I didn’t—you’re here!?” She laughed and when she saw Selina, her smile widened. “Oh, and Selina too. It’s nice to meet you.”

Tamara wasn’t a cocky sort of woman. However, because of Aaron, she came off that way with how she dismissed men. Before, men ranted due to her unrealistic expectations, but never like this. Only these NBA players had the balls to actually try and do something to her. Hurt her, scream at her, whatever.

They were tall motherfuckers, that was for sure, but Aaron wasn’t intimidated. The tallest of them was over seven feet. Jefferson Jackson, ace of the New York Bradley. He single-handedly won a ring with his team last year. A hero in New York from what he recalled.

Jefferson was a quiet, simple man in interviews. Those characteristics weren’t lies. “She your girl?”

“Heh, now I am.” Tamara wrapped her arm around his waist and looked up at him like he was god. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting a while.”

“Sorry. My friends were…” Jefferson elbowed them. “...slighted. That’s all.”

The apologies mumbled out. Jefferson even went and offered a handshake. The NBA player had fame and money. He had everything life could afford him. In spite of that, was hilariously outclassed. He was the biggest of the lot and still inches less than Aaron. Seven inches flaccid and, for most women, a hefty size. But for Tamara and Selina? Not only was the length lacking but his girth was laughable. Aaron had this fucking girth about his cock. Jefferson did not. And his teammates?

“My bad, mate. We'll control ourselves better,” mumbled out the pointguard.

“I remember watching your match with my daughter. You guys were great.” That was all Aaron had to say before turning. The casual authority he wielded did not make logical sense to chicks, maybe, but it made sense to the men. Tamara Fox, daughter of a billionaire, was far beyond their reach. Only this white boy with a cock worth their forearms could plow her fat ass.

“Hey, hey, wanna go to a room and fuck?” Tamara did not hesitate.

Selina rolled her eyes. “Patience, young lady. We’ve yet to visit the central pool. Aren’t people fucking there?”

Aaron walked and despite bickering, the ladies attached themselves to him. It was as Selina said, the central pool of the Nude Side was the main attraction. It was huge with couples fucking everywhere. Hell, not even couples, just random horny men and women. It was a sexual heaven.

Selina let out a whistle. “Look at the old bastard getting lucky.”

Aaron’s gaze followed and he saw two attractive women worshipping the cock of an old man with a fat belly. He had sunglasses on and was drinking too. He could tell this old man lived as he wanted: a ring on his finger yet two Jamaican chicks were sucking his dick and he got to drink too.

Aaron read his mind and his memories. ‘He runs an executive for Toyoda. Practically a billionaire. His wife doesn’t mind his cheating as long as he doesn’t let the kids know.’ Sarcastically, he added, ‘Good to know.’

Elsewhere, Tamara pointed and laughed. An unlucky young man in his twenties, the heir to a company in South Africa, was struggling to get hard. He was white and trying to fuck a fellow heiress who was from Russia. A pretty lass with black hair and freckles, she ended up laughing at his efforts. Poor guy flushed, embarrassed, and his dick softened even more.

Another matter stole Aaron’s attention, however.

“You two go get a drink at the bar. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Huh, what—”

Tamara was dragged away by Selina. The thief didn’t know what he was up to but Aaron had a weary, disappointed look. Here was the thing, at the end of the day, he was trying to do good. At a place like this, he could hear ass cheeks getting clapped. He could hear a woman cry out that she was cumming.

“Oh yes, oh yes, oh yess~!”

“Right there! Right theeere~!”

“A-almost! N-no, not yet!”

He heard all the pleasure. He heard different people. He heard everything.

He also heard a young Jamaican couple getting harassed near the entrance of the building. Since it was a bit far away and the sound of fucking dominated most thoughts, many didn’t notice. Aaron did. The thirty year old black husband was notably uncomfortable with the bigger schlong trying to flirt with his wife.

“I'm Rocky Davis! I can give you that good dick!” Rocky didn’t say his name for no reason. He was an Olympic medal-winning wrestler. A white male with good-looks, wavy black hair, an above average dick, and a big smile.

“W-we’re okay,” said the Jamaican husband. From a quick mind read, he was in the lower-echelon of wealth. He and his wife were engineers and managed to afford a ticket here after a decade of saving up.

“Come on, let the lady speak!” Rocky insisted, grinning wide. He thought because this was a nude beach that he could do whatever he wanted. His dick flung into a healthy seven erection.

The husband’s dick turtled in comparison. The wife stammered, “L-look, it’s, um…”

“Come on!” Rocky jerked his cock off. That stupid grin seemed heroic at first and now terrifying. “Suck my dick a little—”

Thwap, thwap, thwap!

Whatever confidence the Olympian had was cleanly wiped away by Aaron and his arrival. He stood beside the couple and stared down the American athlete. What was worse was that Rocky was from Gotham.

“Hey. Cut that out.”

What made it worse was that this young white Olympian was from Gotham.

‘You’re representing Gotham and acting like this?’

“Oh, err…” Rocky looked down. Oh hell no. They might have been from Gotham and white men that were endowed, that didn’t mean they were the same. Not at all. Aaron had the kind of dick that literally made a coke can look small. Rocky was proud to make that comparison in the first place. “R–right, sorry.”

The Olympian left with his dick softening and ashamed. He outright headed back into a building just to avoid him.

“T-thank you.”

That was the husband thanking him. Aaron turned and gave a nod. The wife’s breath hitched. The husband followed where she was looking and was bewildered.

Aaron’s schlong was even bigger than Rocky’s except…there was no sense of discomfort.

“Uh, so…” The wife had this smile on her face as she spoke to him. “You come here often?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m guessing this isn’t common etiquette.” Aaron put his hand on his hip. “Anyway, if that guy ever bothers you again, tell me.”

He walked away.

At this point, some folks noticed what happened. They especially noticed that the husband would have happily shared his wife with this stud. Aaron wasn’t just the biggest—he was the nicest. He wasn’t acting like a bad boy or an arrogant rich asshole. He earned complete dominance by being nice.

“I don’t blame her, that dude got some dick on him, damn.”

“That's the Lebron James of dicks, man.”

“You mean Michael Jordon?”

“For the last time, he is NOT the GOAT—”

“Shut up, mates.”

Aaron was suddenly the talk of everyone that wasn’t fucking. At the bar, Tamara and Selina waved him over. All the bar seats were filled. But when Aaron arrived, without telepathy or even a word, someone got up and gave him a seat. It was an NBA player too. Somebody rich and famous, completely letting this dude do what he did because the white guy’s dick went thwap, thwap!