Ross’s version: Drinking at the pool

I needed a Caribbean escape, drowning in sunshine, surrounded by women and the embrace of booze. Work's relentless stress, constant travel, and the too brief moments with Rachel left me yearning for a break. Month after month, her disappointed voice echoed as she revealed she wasn’t pregnant again.

The destination surpassed my expectations – our group secured a secluded spot on the resort, far enough away where I could finish my drink between the lobby bar and our sanctuary. Our private enclave boasted a pool, a hot tub, individual bedrooms, and a personal bar.

The inaugural night unfolded at our villa. Nick, fueled by coconut rum, playfully tossed the girls into the pool, a display of controlled chaos they both resisted and secretly relished. Rachel’s swimsuit, notably more modest, contrasted sharply with the daring thong-cut bikinis adorning the other women. My attention lingered on Katy’s sculpted ass, its allure heightened by the tan skin. The women’s playful splashes and sensuous interactions stoked a primal desire in me. That night I couldn't resist unleashing that pent-up aggression on Rachel behind the closed doors of our room.

Morning brought a spa retreat for the ladies while the guys opted for intoxication at a pool with a convenient swim-up bar. Our strategy: start early, nap away the afternoon.

Tequila shots initiated the revelry. Nick proposed a toast to our alluring wives, and we reveled in their heightened attractiveness the island had given them. As the intoxication deepened, our conversations veered into risqué territories, each confession revealing a shared carnal appetite about each others wives.

Nick dropped the bombshell: a unique tradition awaited Rachel and I, an invitation to indulge in the unconventional. The proposal? Swap spouses each night after dinner, a no-strings-attached rendezvous that promised unparalleled excitement.

**** and intrigued, I eagerly accepted the proposition. The revelation unfolded – a nightly exchange of partners until 1:00 am, a tantalizing cycle of pleasure. If I turned them down, I would never have the opportunity to experienced their wives again.

Skeptical yet tempted, I questioned the aftermath of such intimate encounters. The response echoed camaraderie, reassurance that this was a week of uninhibited fun, devoid of emotional entanglements.

As the confession of why they invited me unfolded, my reservations waned, replaced by the allure of a week promising unparalleled indulgence. The girls, it seemed, were already convincing Rachel, and the prospect of the best week of my life hung in the air like the lingering scent of saltwater and desire.