Hedonism ll in Negril, Jamaica, is like no other resort in the world. For one thing it’s nearly thirty-five years old, ancient in the resort business, and some Hedophiles have been coming here since it opened. Some twice, three times a year.

Most frequent guests join groups (Jon’s Fluffernutters, Wet, Wild and Wicked, Bubbly Bares, Biff’s Bunch [motto: Excess in Moderation], Traveling Bares etc.) and get discounts and group paraphernalia (T-shirts, caps, towels) which identify them as family in the acres of naked flesh.

Joining a group, not incidentally, is by far the best way to be invited to the best parties and have the most fun. For the single male, it’s likely the only way to get laid unless some unusually generous woman takes a liking to him and her generous partner is willing to share.

And yes, condoms are mandatory and no, men don’t get unwanted erections the first time they glimpse bare breast or pussy.

Hedo isn’t a swinger’s resort although swingers flock here during the last three weeks of January, the first week of July and mid-October.
 
In fact, Hedonism isn’t even a place, it’s a state of mind. Going Hedo is reverting to childhood before adolescence stole our freedom and innocence — when we lived every moment to its ultimate, we couldn’t embarrass ourselves and everything was available and possible and glorious fun to try.

Hedonism is all the things we’re not allowed to do at home.

Hedonism is the time before Eve ate that damned apple.

(Samantha Jones is a Canadian TV journalist whose erotic, feminist memoir, My Life In The Great Sexual Window, is available at www.lulu.com and Amazon.)