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The receptionist at the desk seemed to sense my urge to uncork these beguiling mysteries. The view from the balcony of my suite was lush and magnificent.And she quickly sniffed me out as a newbie, scared to take off my clothes. On the beach below, a spider monkey rested his chin in his hands, as though smitten with the scenery himself. I waved back, embarrassed for both of us, and quickly slunk back into my room.

Although it may be a key attraction for some, the prospect of sex with strangers isn't explicitly advertised by Desire Pearl.

Now imagine those same people naked as hell, day-drinking in a jumbo-size hot tub—that's what Jacuzzi Happy Hour at Desire Pearl looked like. The receptionist was right: it was easy to make friends.

Within a few minutes, I found myself deep in conversation with a handsome airline pilot and father of three from rural Wisconsin, a man I'll call Rob.

Heavily lotioned breasts swiveled in all directions like turret guns on a tank, while here and there penises wiggled, waggled, and flopped, flashing in the Mexican sunlight like perch in a trawler's net.

Picture a gaggle of parents convened outside an elementary school.


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