The people in the room began to cheer. <>! I woke up very confused. "New Year's? People shouting in French? What?" It couldn't be midnight already. I had just fallen asleep in what felt like minutes before, at just a bit after 11 pm on December 30. This could not be the next night. Why was everyone shouting? Why in French? I thought that I might be dreaming. "Yes... this is a strange place to me," I thought, I squinted at the room and saw only people with fuzzy faces. "Oh... if I realize I'm dreaming... I can control it... Finally, lucid dreaming!" But I lost control. At least it seemed like I did. I felt immediately as if I had woken up. But I wasn't in my bed. I was sitting down in a large hotel room, its window open to the beach below, surrounded by people I didn't know. I was part of some group holiday? I started absent-mindedly staring out the window toward the ocean when I felt a hand reach across my chest to my right shoulder. I looked and saw a woman with dark brown hair turning to kiss me. She was now all I could see, and I was impressed, both by her red backless dress and by what it concealed. And what a passionate kisser! Others in the room seemed to be finishing up their own kisses. One man began a toast: - <> - <> - "OK. I understood that", I thought. "Let's hope my understanding of this evening continues. I don't want this to end..." The stranger continued to kiss me, running her left hand down my side as she turned to face me. I was apparently no stranger to her. I moved my right hand over her shoulder and down her bare back, stopping at the point I could reach my fingers under the fabric that began at her waist. She moved her left hand from my shoulder down to my waist, then started rubbing my cock through my pants. I could not take my eyes off her, but I could tell that others in the room were watching. Perhaps disapprovingly? - <>, said the man who started the toast. - <> He was winking. Hélène winked back and laughed. Whew. Hélène turned around and picked up a glass of white wine from the table. I followed her lead, of course. I touched glasses with everyone in the room and sat back down to drink some wine. Including Hélène and I, there were four women and five men in this room, all looking to be in their mid-twenties. There was more talking, but so far none directed at me. Somehow, I doubted my accent would be anything as authentic as Jean-Michel's. This body I was in was clearly not mine, but the mind was, and I was thinking in English, thinking about how I doubted my French would be adequate. I looked over at a hotel menu to figure out where I was while talking went on, trying to keep a low profile. "Kiritimati?" The first place in the world to greet the New Year... A fitting place for a party indeed, and only a few hours after I went to sleep... but... But this was no talking party, and Hélène was not the only drunk, horny person here. Two of the men, sitting on the sofa nearest the window, starting kissing and petting redhead who from the conversation I had gathered was named Yolande. One man moved his hand up her skirt and the other started to take off her shirt. Hélène kneeled down in front of the couch, unzipped my pants, pulled out my cock, and took it into her mouth, licking the head and massaging my balls with her fingers. I reached to her dress straps to begin my attempt at undressing her, but at my angle I couldn't. She could reach a lot better. While her head continued to move up and down, she lowered the top half of her dress. The man who began the toast came over to finish the job, teasing her nipples for a few seconds and then peeling her dress down to her feet. I had already gathered that this party was not designed for "couples only," or at least was no longer such after all this drinking. This confirmed my guess. The toast-leader was already naked, and once he had Hélène's dress off, laid down on the floor with his head against the bottom of the sofa and started licking her pussy, holding himself up by wrapping his arms around her lower back and ass. The woman who had been holding hands with him during the toast, who I guessed from her looks and from the hypothesis that I was with a group of my (or rather Jean-Michel's) French friends, might be from or have parents from Algeria or Morocco, was rubbing her pussy through her panties with one hand and stroking the toast-leader's dick with the other. The other two party-goers, a skinny black man (Senegalese maybe?) and a blonde woman with about 5, were still as yet fully clothed but it seemed like they wouldn't stay that way soon. Hélène started moaning from the treatment she was getting from the toast-leader. He and I were both feeling pretty happy from this foursome too. Just as I was about twenty seconds more of blow-job from coming, Hélène stopped. Most men would be disappointed, but I had hoped she would stop. I was too horny to come just yet, and have to build up for whatever was coming next. Hélène stopped because she was ready for the toast-leader, apparently called Serge, to fuck her. She winked the North African girl away - I wished I knew her name at the time, fuck she was hot, black hair, light green eyes, large breasts - and lowered herself down on his cock, using the condom that the North African girl had just put on him but not used. I was momentarily surprised that the North African girl wasn't upset with this, but I realized why. She had been fingering herself to the point of coming herself, and was just as ready to be fucked, but she wanted me, not Serge. She didn't have a condom for me, and I certainly didn't know if I had one, but apparently it was her intention to go without. Far be it from me to protest, I suppose, I was new to this body after all. Besides, for all I knew this woman could be my wife. I certainly wished so. She stripped off her wet panties and her t-shirt and laid down on the couch. She grabbed my cock, which was cooling down from Hélène's unfinished blow-job but still quite hard, moved under me, and said <>. I started fucking her hard, kissing her as well, both because of the slight ambiguity of her command (at least I think baiser can still also just mean kiss), and taking her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers, left on right, right on left, rubbing them at the same rhythm that we were fucking. I took my right hand away and moved it to her pussy. She had already worked herself up and Hélène had me, so we didn't take long to finish. In a minute or two we both came and collapsed into each others arms. The couple whose names I never learned and who had not yet swapped continued fucking, while the threesome by the window had turned into two. The two men were sucking each others dicks and the red-head had joined the hitherto monogamous couple. My North African girl was commanding me to fuck her again. <>. I got ready to continue the best New Year I had ever had as Hélène finished her long fuck session with Serge and came over to eat out my Aïcha while I fucked her ass. Hélène had just called her Aïcha. Good to know. So it went for almost an hour. We continued drinking. I gained confidence in my French and learned that I have the voice of whomever' body this is. We continued fucking. I fucked every woman in the room and one of the men. Suddenly, just as I was about to come from another blow job from Hélène while I started giving another one to Pierre, my vision went dark. I couldn't see a thing. Then I fell unconscious. _______ "Happy New Year, dear." said a smiling woman in the bed next to me. I was in another room. This time with only one other person. I didn't recognize the woman. "Happy New Year, " I responded. What else? I didn't sound like myself. That's good, I don't think she'd recognize my voice. The woman, who was intellectual-looking - that is to say, she was in her early 60s, had graying hair, was wearing black glasses, and had a stack of what looked to be scholarly books on medieval literature on her lamp table. She hugged and kissed me, then laid back down. We were apparently watching television coverage of a New Year's party. The text said that it was in Auckland. We both had New Zealand accents. I started to realize what might be happening. New Zealand is one hour behind Kiritimati. After I finished the hour orgy on Christmas Island, I came here. I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. I was in my early 60s too. No surprise. I had a wedding ring on. I was a bald man. "`Colin,' eh? Time to be you." I returned to the woman whose name I probably wouldn't learn in the next hour. Who randomly has the opportunity to hear the name of his wife? I climbed under the sheets, put my arm around her, and pecked her on the cheek. We watched the television coverage of the New Year's parties for a few more minutes, then my wife started flipping the channels. There was nothing good on. She left it on The Rugby Channel, muted the TV, turned to me, and smiled. She kissed me and started unbuttoning my pajamas. I knew this was going to happen the way she was looking at me. Fortunately, this was Colin's body, not Jean-Michel's, which I had briefly started to think of as mine. I wasn't tired at all. I started rubbing her breasts under her pajamas, while she moved closer to make kissing easier. Her pajamas mine. Extremely cute. Part of this situation was odd, I had never been with a woman her age. Then again, I had never before been that age myself, and I was. Also, it was much less odd than the holiday orgy I had just taken part in. I also felt that, while retaining my own memories and my own self-consciousness, feeling deep love and attraction toward this woman. Maybe more of Colin was in me than just flesh and blood. I certainly did like her taste in literature. My shirt was off. I looked down at Colin's body, three decades more aged than my own. I unbuttoned my wife's pajama top. We matched again, wearing only flannel pajama bottoms only. I reached down and rubbed, first her right leg, then her left, then her ass, then up to her vulva. She pulled down her pants to give me easier access. I found her clitoris with my right hand and started rubbing it. I put my left thumb on her left nipple and my left pinky on her right nipple and pulled her small breasts toward each other. It felt like I had done it a thousand times. She loved it, like it seemed like she had a thousand times before. After her orgasm she pulled down my pajamas, lied down next to me on her stomach, arms parallel to my hips, and stroked my cock in just the right way. It's amazing how beautiful this woman was to me, even more how I seemed to be such to her. She could sense my impeding orgasm, sat up, and pumped me until my semen shot over her breasts and stomach. She then laid down on me and spread it with her body all over mine, slipping around as much as she could with the relatively small amount of semen I had ejaculated. I moved my hands down her naked back and to her ass, intending to reach beyond and see if her pussy was ready for more. It didn't seem like it. I kissed her breasts several times, then proposed we go take a shower. - "Colin! We haven't made love in the shower for years!" She seemed excited. So, she did want more, or would want it soon. - "All right. Let's get clean and then get dirty right again." - "Easy to get clean right again after that, isn't it..." I walked naked with my wife to the bathroom, laughing all the way, and turned on the shower. Cleaning her, I got familiar with every part of her body, in a way I'm certain Colin already was after having seemingly been married for so long. It was genuine cleaning too, that is, until I got an erection. She played with my cock, I fingered her lit, and we both got very worked up again. It was getting far too hot in this shower, hot enough that one of us might faint, so I turned it off, saying that we'd turn it on cold later when we actually needed clean again. I pinned her against the sliding glass shower door and started making love to her. While I did this I ran my hands over every inch of her body - her long straight light brown to gray hair, her no-longer-perfect but still very beautiful breasts, her sides, her back, her hips. She and I orgasmed about 30 seconds apart, her first, then we turned on the shower to cool in a much more mechanical fashion and climbed into bed, not bothering with pajamas. She started to talk about her students dissertations. Now this is a pleasant change. She teaches Chaucer, apparently. I couldn't say at what NZ university because since Colin already knew, I probably never will. My beautiful wife dozed off just as I was blacking out yet again. _______ I woke up in bed again. There was no one next to me. The bed I was in was actually more of a mat in a corner. I heard a conversation going on in another room, or maybe outside. I definitely don't understand this conversation. It sounds like a Polynesian language. Where am I? I decide not to step outside my room; let events come to me if they will, but I don't think I'm prepared here. I look around the dark room more now that my eyes have adjusted. It's pretty bare. A wicker table, some glass, a mat on the floor. I look at myself. I am not Colin or myself. Probably a Polynesian man. Maybe this is Fiji. I had an hour here, and I had to decide what to do soon. I tried to go back to sleep at first, but since it had been a positive adventure so far, so after deliberating for almost five minutes, I decide instead to try my luck. I wrapped what looks like a sarong around my waist and stepped to the door. I listened to the conversation, but again, I could not understand anything. I wished whoever or whatever had sent me on this journey had supplied me with an internal universal translator... - "Ssssssh" I jumped. Someone had snuck up behind me, a softly giggling woman. - "Lako mai! Vaka totolo!" Without understanding the words, I knew that she wanted me to come with her. She put her arm around my waist and started running toward another exit to the dwelling I had woken up in. She asked me a question, very rapidly. I smiled and nodded. That seemed to work, I guessed. We ran into a grove of trees, down a path to a little clearing between some palms. She tackled me and undid my sarong. Apparently my New Year's journey did have one sole purpose, sex. The woman took off her sarong and unbuttoned her loose white blouse. It looked like clothing provided by a missionary. She sat down on my stomach and started rubbing my muscular chest. This guy I had become was fit! I reached around to rub her ass, moving my fingers in a circular motion about the globes, coming in towards her asshole and toward her pussy in alternating motions to tease her. She kissed me and swung her body backwards, knocking my cock back and forth several times before she lowered herself onto it - "Unnnhhhhh" I wondered if we needed to be quiet. We hadn't run that far into the trees. My lover had no scruples though. She leaned forward so that she could fuck and kiss at the same time, but i had slightly different ideas. I bit the sides of her breasts playfully while pinching her ass. She responded positively, so while she was still getting her cunt fucked on my cock, I started treating her breasts like chew toys and spanking her ass. This apparently, was new to her, since she looked shocked, but she looked happy and didn't stop me. I didn't know what to say, not knowing the language, so I motioned that I was about to orgasm with a big "explosion" movement with my hands. She got off me, I shot my load into the grass, and started fingering her toward the orgasm it didn't seem she had started yet. Suddenly, we heard movement. A angry man. I had been expecting a perfect New Year's morning, yet again, but the shouting man had other ideas. I still had at least thirty-five minutes left in this place. I ran away like a coward, not bothering to even pick up my sarong. The man hit my lover (who also may have been his lover, or his sister) in her stomach, threw her to the ground, and ran off after me. I was running naked in a place I didn't know. I took comfort in the fact that I looked like a strong, fighting man if fighting became necessary. Alas. I tripped on some brush and fell forward to the ground. That really hurt. The angry brother? lover? cousin? caught up with me. He kicked me in the crotch and punched me in the face. I was severely hurting. I picked up a rock from the ground when I fell for the second time and threw it as hard as I could at his stomach. It knocked some wind out, but he was still a lot less injured than I. He started shouting at me in Fijian and the fact that I wasn't responding at all (I couldn't) made him even more angry. We threw a few more punches until we were both rather worn out. I collapsed on the ground and he ran off, presumably to beat her up some more. I laid there in pain for a few minutes, got up, shook the brush off me, and looked down the hill. He was raping her. Every part of me now was this jealous lover, this defender of her rights, this strong, determined man. That is, every part except for his memories, which are what I most needed. I stumbled toward the scene and yell "Stop!" in English. He shouted at me, she cried. I pick up a rock, hid it behind my back, and walked toward them. I threw the rock at his head and it hits him dead on. He fell unconscious and I ran to take this poor crying woman into my arms. I blacked out. I will never learn what happened next. -------- The pain from my fight was gone. I was a new man. A man who had already drank enough vodka that he could hardly talk. "Za mir!" said one man "Za mir!" I drank again and muttered something in Russian... oh my, I don't know much Russian. I just tend to speak what I know when I'm drunk. And now, by my estimation. I was a drunk Russian, living in from frozen hell Siberian city like Magadan, the only place it would be midnight, if I were indeed still going west around the world. At least these men, my friends, I presumed, wouldn't mind a little drunken mumbling. I drink more vodka and start mumbling in English. I pass out. _______ I woke up. I thought, "no sex that time, unless I had sex with the other drunk Russian men and don't remember it. unlikely." I was at a big party again, in an Australian pub. I was standing up, drinking a beer, and looking at a New Year's countdown on TV while standing next to a pretty red-head woman. "Happy New Year!" we all shout, and take a drink. Red-haired woman looks like she needs a kiss and I give her one. It seems she takes her kissing at midnight seriously. "I'm Angie," she says. Apparently I don't even know her. What do I say to introduce myself. I settled on "I'm impressed," hoping I already introduced myself. She laughed and threw her head back. - "Forget who you are, mate?" said a man next to me. - "I haven't drank that much yet." - "I know who he is of course," said Angie. "I came here to see him play after all." "Play?" I thought? - "And you're as good a kisser as his is a drummer," she flirted. "Whew," apparently I had already "played." - "Listen," said Angie, "I am going to another party now, I promised I would, but it was nice to meet..." - "Can I come with you?" Angie looked shocked I would say that. "Am I famous?" I thought. "Uhhh... wow, of course you can." My sister is driving me, she hasn't had as much to drink. - "Great, let me get my coat." Angie and her sister Lizzie seemed genuinely amazed to have me in their car, as amazed as my mates seemed to see me leave with them. But I only had an hour in ... wherever in Australia I was. The drive unfortunately took most of it. Angie then told me she had just been planning on going home since she was shy and thought I wouldn't talk to her, but then I had inexplicably wanted to go with her. She invited me into her and her sister's flat, and fixed gin and tonics for the three of us. For some reason, Angie couldn't control herself after that. She asked flat out if I wanted to shag, didn't wait for any more answer than a smile, and unzipped her dress. She threw the dress to the floor and had her bra and panties off in no time. I obliged her. Angie was about 5'9", rather lanky, but had a very nice round ass. I got down to eat her out while she pulled off my shirt. - "You're fast!" shouted a familiar voice - "Lizzie! Come and join us!" Angie's sister came and playfully squeezed her breasts, then knelt down to meet my face, still busy with Angie's cunt. Lizzie unzipped my pants and brought my cock out, then decided instead to just take them off me. "Oh God" I wish the drive her had lasted longer, we only had a few minutes left before this famous musician was left with hot sisters and I was in the next time zone over. I had just made Angie orgasm when her sister stripped off her panties and told me to fuck her. Then I blacked out. ---------- Next post, Japan through Middle East -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+