Being a pair of ducks out of our usual pond, we had all sorts of reservations and fears. Not so much about getting nekkid, but about the bus ride from hell. MrsQuackers managed to herniate three discs in her neck before the trip and we almost had to cancel. Turns out those fears were misplaced. If you’ve spent any time in a New York City taxi in Midtown or SoHo, you won’t even blink during the bus ride. If not, hold on to your naughty bits!

We had some great companions on the ride, including "the Stephanies" two lively young women who were staying at Breezes and the couple we shall call "Things Go Better with Coke," who bought an eight-ball of cocaine and began snorting on the way to the resort. This shocked us for a moment, but we figured it was their vacation to do with as they please. And hell, they were damned nice people. They even offered me a bump, which I gracefully declined.

Check in was definitely on Jamaican time, but at least our rooms were ready. We had requested something in the 500 building, but ended up in the 100 building on the quad. No problem, mon. Well, no major ones, at least. One of the drawers was missing a handle, rendering it useless. And the water pressure wasn’t great, but there was plenty of hot water and with the bathroom door closed, it was quiet enough to let us sleep when we wanted to that week.

Heeding the advice of the boards, we dropped trou and marched proudly to the nude pool. Within 30 seconds, we met Rick (aka the wild-ass guy who wouldn’t leave). By the glowing paleness of our skin, he astutely surmised we were newbies - then bought us a drink. Rick, we learned, was scheduled to leave tomorrow. Schedules, though, have an odd way of being rearranged.

A volleyball game broke out soon after and I quickly jumped in. Ten minutes later, we got everyone in the pool area to play a new game - find MrQuackers wedding ring in a pool so cloudy you can’t even see your wiener, much less the bottom. Honest, it’s a fun game. Really.

Ok, for a while there, I thought I might be the only married person to every go a week at Hedo without getting any. See, my ring is a bit loose and one awkward return in the game apparently sent it flying in a random direction without me knowing it. Fortunately, my sex life was salvaged by C, a nice lady who found the ring with her feet. (My libido thanks you!) One borrowed scuba mask later, I retrieved the ring and was so happy I didn’t even use the mask to look at private parts while I was underwater. But by the end of that game, MrsQuackers and I had decided we would be returning to Hedo 3 - and even thought about booking the return trip the next day.

We spent the next couple hours getting to know several of the players in the game, including L and T and "Wild-ass M". Part of this education process was body shots, which introduced MrsQuackers to the world of rum cream. (My libido thanks the makers of rum cream!)

After a quick shower to wash the chlorine off, it was off to dinner with our new friends (loved the ziti!), followed by MrsQuackers joining a few of those friends for a taste of the island’s most famous herb, while I stayed with others and discovered the wonder that is the lemon drop shot. (My libido thanks the inventor of the lemon drop!) Afterwards, we all headed back to the nude pool, where the missus and I saw all sorts of PDAs. (My libido thanks those performing the PDAs.) Finally, travel exhaustion and many, many more lemon drops forced us to call it a night. We woke up just in time for…

(Stalker) SUNDAY

Missed breakfast, which meant we were able to start our day at the Scotch Bonnet. A little jerk chicken gets the day going right, I always say… (Seriously, I always say that. It might mean I get odd looks at business meetings or while at the vet, but when you have a deeply held belief, it’s good to share it with others.) Off to the nude pool, where we quickly met up with the M&Ms - Brown and Green (green, of course, being the better looking of the two) - one of the couples we’d met via email before the trip. Man, are they cool people! We knew within minutes we’d be spending a lot of time with them.

EC staffer Destiny kicked off a game of trivia, which started my token collection. We spent the majority of the next few hours in the shallow end of the pool chatting with some of the friends from the previous night as well as several new ones. We won’t name names, but there was some serious PDA activity going on here to. (My libido thanks those involved.)

Once word leaked out we hadn’t done the water slide yet, an invasion was called for, so we organized a nekkid parade and off we went. (My libido is neutral on the subject of the waterslide, but my inner child thanks the builders of it.) As we flaunted our wieners and boobs to the prudes, we heard someone shout out my name. It was DiverDude, another of our email buddies who was just getting in. His wife, Fish, who had been a little nervous about the trip, wasn’t around at that moment.

Wearing out our welcome at the slide - and unable to take the searing heat of the sun-drenched metal stairs any longer, we returned to the pool. Before long, our group decided to start doing shots. Lemon drops. Rum punch. You name it, cause I sure can’t…:) Then organized body shots were announced - and we thought it rude to decline. My libido and I quickly decided this was not your typical vacation.

After shots, we spent time hanging out with Destiny, Creepy Stalker Couple and a wonderful Portugese couple whose names we only got half of. Destiny, mother of my child, shocked and flattered MrsQuackers by complimenting her breasts (the first of roughly eight such compliments we received that week, which did wonders for eliminating insecurities that have plagued her for years). As the conversation wandered, the creepy stalker couple to begin hovering (and more) around MrsQuackers. (My libido flips creepy stalker couple the finger.) We subtly let them know to back off, but apparently were too subtle.

Destiny called for a prude pool invasion, where we hit the waterslide again and my libido and I were called to jump up on the edge of the pool and shake our wiener and booty. (God bless lemon drops for giving me the courage to do so.)

After another run on the waterslide, creepy stalker couple began getting even more aggressive, so we got the hell out of Dodge and went to our room for a quick nap. After a rather disappointing dinner at the buffet, we ran into the M&Ms and sealed our friendship with a good 90 minute conversation and a champagne toast.

Holy crap! It’s time for Battle of the sexes!! The men laid waste to the women when it came to making a bed and folding sheets. (We realized too late that we had been duped and would now be forced to repeat this efficiency when we got home.) MrsQuackers and I, despite having the added degree of difficulty that came with the injured neck, managed to dominate the "most sexual positions in 15 seconds" competition, managing six. (My libido takes a bow.) Once she has her neck surgery, we will welcome any challenger to our record. The scavenger hunt was hilarious. And the fake orgasm contest was won by an adult dancer who easily blew away the competition. (My libido thanks said dancer, who shall remain nameless, but is a regular at Hedo.) After making our way to the piano bar for a bit and realizing it was a hell of a lot more fun than we thought it would be, we spent a little time on the nude beach before stumbling back to our room for the evening. Mere hours later, it was…

(Champagne) MONDAY

Hearing so many people sing the praises of the breakfast buffet, we forced ourselves out of bed and made our way to the dining area. The omelet bar was decent, but we were underwhelmed by the bacon (either burned to a crisp or barely cooked), pancakes (quite bland) and other dishes. I ended up standing next to creepy stalker couple while waiting for my omelet and did my best to ignore them. They said nothing, so I figured the message to back the hell off had been received. God I’m dumb.

We headed straight for the nude pool to spend the day with the M&Ms, DiverDude and Fish, who had decided to go with the flow and was nekkid. We were so proud of her. DiverDude and Fish headed out on the first of their daily two dives and the missus and I settled in comfortably. As we were sitting there, a kindly woman named Jimmy (who had done her best to help the guys out at Sunday’s battle of the sexes) swam up to tell me I had "a huge shlong". (My ego thanks Jimmy.) Minutes later, we were joined by the aforementioned dancer and her husband. We spent the next three hours talking with them, enthralled by their stories and enchanted by their friendly, down to earth nature. We were equally fascinated to learn that our dancer friend is also an adult film actress who holds the deep throating record (two frickin’ feet!) and that her husband is a man who is actually multi-orgasmic. We talked of vibrators, stalkers, porn… basically all the things you don’t typically discuss openly with strangers anywhere else in the world. They were easily the most fascinating couple we met all week.

DiverDude and Fish came by and we learned they hadn’t yet tried the waterslide. That, we felt, was unacceptable, so we quickly organized a nude waterslide run.

At dinner, MrsQuackers shimmied into a sexy, skimpy black dress and we headed to Munahana. As we were waiting for our reservations, we ran into our bus ride buddies the Stephanies, who were over on a day pass. We gave them a tour of the grounds and invited them to join us as we had reservations for four. Just so happened it was Stephanie’s birthday (no, the other one). They quickly accepted.

Dinner was scrumptious, though the sushi and grilled veggies weren’t the best we’ve ever had. We were joined by DiverDude and Fish, who were celebrating their 18th anniversary, and the M&Ms, who like us were just there to eat! Staff member Nelson became my best friend by ensuring my champagne glass was never empty. Hell, it was never half-empty. By the end of dinner, I had to give him a hug. Afterwards, we all marched over to the piano bar.

It was early and Glen wasn’t playing yet, but no problem. The Stephanies, it turns out, are classically trained pianists, so they kept us entertained until - oh shit! - Glen came on. To celebrate, I drank more champagne. At this point, I was approaching a bottle consumed. By the end of the evening, I had downed one-and-a-half or two.

We sang our hearts out (badly) and had a wonderful evening. Brown M&M, DiverDude myself and two other male audience members got up to sing "You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling" with a gusto the Isley Brothers could never match - and in a key they probably had never heard of. But the audience kindly covered for us by belting out the lyrics with us.

The festivities were briefly interrupted by a banner/petition that was making its way around the piano bar from Rick, the fellow we’d met our first day. (Yes, he was still there.) Seems he had managed an interlude with two nice women in his room, but was still interrupted by the sex police. As a result, he was inviting everyone to an enormous orgy at his place at 1am that evening. The M&Ms were a bit worried, seeing as the location was next door to their room. (They reported, somewhat sadly, the next morning that they never heard a peep.)

After a long night of loud and bad singing, I waited at the bar while my bride visited the loo. Jimmy, the same nice lady who had earlier complimented my shlong, came by to tell me I had a wonderful voice. I wasn’t drunk enough to believe her, but I was sober enough to thank her. Ten minutes later, we saw the better looking half of the Portugese couple, who informed me my singing sucks, for which I complimented her honesty.

It was time for our nightly tradition of a stroll over to the nude pool and nude beach. (My libido thanks the high tide and the pounding surf.) After a while, we decided to call it a night. Little did we know that lurking around the corner was…

(Boobie) TUESDAY

We made it to breakfast once again, only today creepy stalker couple sat down uninvited and joined us. We made it very clear to them we weren’t interested, choked down the rest of our food and dashed to the nude pool. Fortunately, this time they got the message - though they did stare at us (or more specifically MrsQuackers) from across the pool the rest of the week..

We sat chatting with the M&Ms and DiverDude and Fish and were later joined by our dancer friend and her husband. The conversation turned once again to the adult entertainment industry, including (but not limited to) Ron Jeremy’s stench, Jenna Jameson’s ego and said dancer’s chest. MrsQuackers could no longer contain her curiosity and asked what the measurements of those things were. The answer: 34GGG - and they weigh six lbs each. Curiosity unsatiated, she asked if she could feel them. The answer, bless her, was "sure" - and we all felt up our new favorite star. She even posed for pictures with all of us a bit later.

Yes, we all sound like perverts here - and, granted, we are - but I want to re-emphasize how truly nice these people were. We can’t wait to see them again. And given they’ve taken over 50 trips to Hedo 3 (and another 50+ to Hedo 2), we suspect we will.

The call went out for competitors for Ms. Nude Beach, which MrsQuackers decided to try. Her competition, it turns out, was our dancer friend. That didn’t bother MrsQ quite as much as the impromptu fake orgasm contest. My wife would rather I service her in front of everyone than have to participate in a fake orgasm contest, but she was a good sport - calling out the dancer’s husband’s name! Based on our enthusiastic cheering section, which then included said husband, she won a bottle of overproof rum for first prize.

While we had met J and her friend K briefly on Sunday, Tuesday was the first day we really got to spend time with them. Both were sweet as could be and we instantly wished we’d spoken more the previous few days, but we made up for it by the end of their trip. While MrsQuackers napped in the shade, I expanded our social circle at the bar, spending time with Rick, who at that point was close to applying for homestead exemption at the nude pool and had obviously ignored his first eviction notice, Turtle, Mrs. Turtle, J and (other) J&D (who were planning to leave in a day or two for Atlantis in the Bahamas).

When it came time for dinner, we met yet another of our email buddies, the Florida nudists! They joined all the rest of us for dinner at Pastafari. Yum-my! (My libido, by way of my taste buds, thanks Pastafari.)

At this point, there was only one email couple we had yet to meet - the Georgia Perverts - and they weren’t coming in until Friday. So, we decided it would be fitting to surprise them with a note from Hedo. We loved everyone we wrote to, but had developed an instant bond with the Perverts and were heartbroken our trips would only intersect for a few hours.

Nonetheless, we soldiered on and headed back to our room to get ready for the PJ party. MrsQuackers wore a knockout see-through number while I wore something to accentuate my package and world-class ass. We were really excited about this party, but found it a bit lacking. It could have been the low occupancy of the resort. It could have been the heat in the disco. It could have been the creepy guy who ran up and snapped a picture of MrsQuackers and Green M&M, then ran off. But I think it was Stalker Bob, who hovered around us telling stories of his dysfunctional childhood, who sealed the evening as a failure. (My libido flips off Stalker Bob.) After about 90 minutes, we called it a bust and called it a night. Good thing, because up next was…

(Paternity) WEDNESDAY

Exhaustion and, um other things, overtook us and we missed breakfast again. (My libido thanks late mornings!) So, once we managed to get out of the room, it was straight to the Scotch Bonnet - because, as you know, a little jerk chicken gets the day going right.

While dining, we met David, who runs the restaurants at Hedo 3 and he couldn’t have been nicer. He joined us for a bit, while I raved about the jerk and the patties. We were thoroughly impressed that he took the time to listen to what we had to say and made a point of getting to know our names. We ambled over to the nude pool to spend the day with our friends when all of a sudden a beer drinking contest broke out. Since having lost one of these at a Mexican resort last year, I’ve been practicing. The practice paid off as I trounced the competition, finishing my beer roughly three or four seconds before him. My Irish ancestors beamed down on me from the heavens. (My libido gives a shout out to Irish heritage.)

Around 2:30, we decided we could stand a thorough nap, so headed back to the room. The quad had been docile all week, so we thought it’d be a good chance to catch up on lost zzzzzz’s. We didn’t count on the quad invasion taking place. After an hour or so, we gave up and went back downstairs. The party had remained in the quad, so we hung there for a while, damn near getting whiplash trying to keep up with all the PDAs. BJs on the bar. Women straddling the pussy fountains. Humping in the water. Humping out of the water. (My libido thanks the participants in that afternoon’s sexual Olympics.)

As the day ended, we walked over to the hammocks, crawled in one and watched the sunset. Gorgeous! Were this any other resort, we’d have done this every night, but there was always so many other things going on that we never thought of the hammocks until it was too late.

We had planned on hitting the buffet again that night, but the M&Ms called to inform us it was lobster night at Pastafari, so we hurried over. David happened by again and joined the four of us for a good 45 minutes. We talked of food, his family and more. It was a delightful evening.

When it came time to leave, we wandered over to the pimp and ho contest to cheer on Jimmy. Any woman who introduces herself by telling me I have a big shlong gets my unilateral support when it comes to pimp and ho night.

Before the contest, though, there was a game of Name that Tune focusing on the 80s. There is little I happen to know more about, so we racked up the tokens. The first time I dashed for the answer chair, Destiny leapt to her feet, cheering for me and saying (and I quote) "You go [MrQuackers]!!! Dat’s the father of my baby!!!!!"

Apparently, I must have sleepwalked earlier in the day, but I couldn’t be more proud of the mother-to-be that I chose. Even MrsQuackers wholeheartedly approved. (My libido thanks Destiny.)

After the pimps and hos strutted their stuff, they played 70s and 80s music and Destiny pulled me onto the dance floor, apparently unaware of my white boy "dancing" genes. I did my best to keep up, though. Girlfriend can shake her moneymaker!!

Stalker Bob was starting his remora act again, so we bolted to the nude pool, where things were active. We wandered to the pier and, in the immortal words of Bob Eubanks, made whoopee in the moonlight, with waves crashing in and quite possibly an audience. (My libido smiles and waves to the onlookers.) We figure we’d seen so many people going at it like lust-crazed bunnies out there, it was the least we could do to return the favor. After taking our bows, we headed to the room, to rest up for…

(Toga) THURSDAY

The sun, the drinks and the party must be getting to us. We got up late again. Ah well… off to the Scotch Bonnet - ‘cause as you know… A little jerk chicken gets the day go… WHAT??? No Jerk Chicken today???? Ah maaaannnn. Thank God for patties!

Somewhat depressed, we headed to the nude pool. There were rumors the Stephanies were there. After several days without any volleyball games breaking out, things kicked back into action, so I played (and lost) a lot. (The wedding ring, I should mention, was safely tucked in the room safe; MrsQuackers decreed that I was not to wear it for the rest of my stay at the resort after Saturday’s incident). Once everyone felt we’d burned enough calories, most of the teams headed to the bar, but MrsQuackers and I headed to the nude beach to stroll. Hey, the Stephanies really were there! And they were buck nekkid! Good on them! Eventually, they came up to the pool and hang with us.

Sweetness declared it time to make human sundaes. I laid MrsQuackers on a towel and build a whipped cream, strawberry syrup and cookie sundae on her edible body. Our cheering section seemed loudest, but we lost nonetheless. Ah well, at least I got a good midday snack and she didn’t seem the least bit unhappy. (My libido thanks the makers of whipped cream.) While I guzzled a beer to get the taste of pure sugar out of my mouth, body shots were declared. Well, who were we to resist? The Stephanies got quite an eyeful.

A bit later, it was time to prepare for toga night. We’d bought fabric at a local shop before we went to Hedo and decided to make our own. Both of us were quite pleased with the result, as they rivaled and even beat some of the purchased ones. We accidentally showed up 30 minutes early for our reservations at Munahana, so paraded around the resort showing off our togas to the new arrivals, then settled in for a scrumptious dinner.

Afterward, thinking the toga party was about to begin, we joined DiverDude and Fish for the staff and guest talent show. Everyone tried hard, but… well, I think I celebrated three birthdays there. It was not particularly well paced. Eventually, the toga party kicked off and we led a train around the dining hall, flipped off the other resorts and then they had a quick "best toga" competition. All in all, it was actually not too exciting, though that could have been because occupancy was still relatively low. But we had fun dressing up, so what the hell.

The M&Ms were MIA, though Green M&M did leave her mark at dinner where she had a Janet Jackson-like wardrobe malfunction, eventually just eating topless. They claimed to have fallen asleep while back at their room trying to fix it. Riiiiiiiight.

After a brief stop at the piano bar, which was crowded but dead (the newbies didn’t quite know what to do with Glen’s lyrics yet), we called it a night, hoping to brace ourselves for…

(Lemon Drop) FRIDAY

After a week of trying, we managed to get two neurons to collide in our head and order the continental breakfast room service, allowing us to sleep in AND eat! I caught up with the staff member who was coming to our room and had her sneak it in, so as not to awaken MrsQuackers, then hurried over to the main stage to exchange our tokens for two bottles of rum cream. I was a hero to MrsQuackers when she spotted them.

Off we went to the nude pool. Stalker Bob was back, but despite his best efforts to ruin our day, he was successfully ignored and rebuffed. Drinking games started in the afternoon, with Destiny leading the pool in a game of "I Never…" Basically, if you had never done what she said, you were safe. If you had, you had to take a drink. I will only say we needed to refill our rum punches twice. MrsQuackers neck, which had been doing pretty good all trip, was really hurting today, so she decided it was time for a nap.

I stayed in the pool and played a shitload of volleyball with the biggest crowd to date. DiverDude, I learned, is a volleyball madman and I was very glad he was on my team. The M&Ms dropped by to let us know their flight home had been cancelled thanks to Hurricane Frances. (They ultimately would not leave until the following Tuesday - mere days before Ivan the Terrible came to town!) Ours, alas, was still on schedule.

Back to the room to get packing taken care of, showered and dressed to meet the Georgia Perverts - the last (and closest) of our email buddies. We got to the lobby just before their bus arrived and exchanged hugs, stories of air-sickness and more - and after 15 minutes, it felt like we had known them for 15 years. They dropped their stuff off in their room and met us at Pastafari for a long, leisurely dinner. David dropped by to say hello as did Keith, the chef at Pastafari. Mr. Pervert instantly engaged Keith in a discussion about cooking and recipe exchanges. I drank champagne again, while the girls enjoyed purple rains and Mr. Pervert had a rum punch. (Pull out a score card here. It’s about to get complicated.)

Afterwards, we headed to the Piano Bar, where we were lucky enough to get front row seats. Everyone but Mr. Pervert had champagne and we all enjoyed our second lemon drop shot of the night (the first came at dinner). It being costume night at the disco, we all went to change. MrsQuackers was already in a drop dead, stop-you-in-your-tracks-and give-you-a-stiffie red dress. (My libido thanks Krystels.com.) I got back into my well-received PJ-night costume and a bow tie. Then the Perverts appeared. He was maxed out in nerd apparel. She was a naughty Catholic school girl. (My libido thanks Sister HubbaHubba.) We spent a little time at the disco, but no one else was in costume, so we headed to the nude pool. That’s where the trouble started.

I can’t honestly say how many lemon drops were consumed that night… but it was easily more than a half-dozen each. In a short, short time frame. We also did body shots. Mr. Pervert and I were talking about how damn lucky we were when we noticed our wives were missing. Then we saw his, passed out by the side of the pool. We went to get her and mine staggered by, saying she needed to "take a walk" (never good words to hear from her). As he and I carried Mrs. Pervert back toward her room, I saw MrsQuackers leaning over the railing along the walkway, heaving her guts out. (My libido revokes its earlier thanks to the inventor of the lemon drop and now shakes its head sadly.)

The party had reached a premature end.

Mr. Pervert and I got our respective wives back to their rooms. His passed out cold. Mine began puking up food she ate three days ago and was saving for a moment just like this. We had planned to exchange sex toys when we met and by God, we weren’t about to let that not happen, so he bought over their toy for MrsQuackers and I gave him ours for Mrs. Pervert. He briefly checked on MrsQuackers then gave me a sad, knowing look and went back to his room. It was 3:30am.

After forcing MrsQuackers to take two aspirin and a pepcid (all of which were promptly ralphed back onto my foot) I called it a night.

I won’t go into the pain she was feeling Saturday when we had to board that sad, sad bus or the turbulent ride home. But I will say that I’ve rarely seen anyone that miserable. Still, all of our newfound friends came out to say goodbye and share a final breakfast with us (well, me, since food was NOT something MrsQuackers was remotely interested in at the time).

We left sad, but energized at having made so many good friends, who we know we’ll stay in touch with for many, many years - and who we hope we will see again very soon at the nude pool.

MrsQuackers says next time… she’ll slow down on the lemon drops.