FYI, Chris has more chest hair than is shown in this illustration (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

We’re Ellen and Chris, two classic Brits uncomfortable being naked and talking openly about sex stuff.

So when we were offered a holiday to Hedonism II, ‘the sexiest place on earth’, ‘an all-inclusive paradise’, and an ‘iconic adult playground’, we had to say yes.

Hedonism II is, essentially, a sex resort. There are nude beaches, classes on fetishes, and necklaces that declare your sexual interests to other guests.

While we’re here, we’ll be writing daily diary posts about what it’s like at Hedonism II’s Young Swingers Week, culminating in a final article about what we discovered at the end of the week.




Do enjoy our awkwardness. Here’s our recap of day one.

Oh hello, this is us, Chris and Ellen. Chris is the one with the beard, Ellen is the one with purple hair. We are bad at taking selfies but were asked to do one to show everyone what we look like. So here you go. This is us in our hotel room. (Picture: Ellen Scott/Metro.co.uk)

Ellen

Let me be entirely upfront: This is a joke that might have gone too far.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious for us, a classic British couple entirely awkward in the art of interacting with people and terrified at the prospect of getting naked with the lights on, to go to a clothing optional Jamaican resort famed for its fetish nights and couples’ playroom?

It only gets funnier when we find out the week we’re going happens to be Young Swingers Week. We are not swingers. What a laugh.

Then it comes to actually going, and I remember that while something may be very funny in concept, that doesn’t mean I should actually do it.

It’s too late for that realisation, though. We’re on a 10-hour flight to a place with the tagline ‘pursue pleasure’ and an onsite sex toy shop.

Just arriving at the airport is an… interesting experience. There are more fake breasts in the customs line that I can count. It’s easy to spot who’s heading to Hedonism II – the decorated tote bags and nipples poking through sheer tops give it away.

I’m no prude. I’m a body positive, free the nipple, loudly talk about vaginas kind of girl. But there’s something very different about making small talk with people who’ve all come to Jamaica for one reason: to get naked and sexual – likely with people they’re not currently linking arms with.

The bus ride is long and warm, with the vibe of a school trip – excitable guests share whether they’re first timers or regulars, discussing their pole dancing routine and themed costumes.

Chris and I play ‘spot the goat’ (first one to see a goat wins a prize that hasn’t yet been determined) and I have a snooze on his shoulder.

Then we arrive in reception and the game changes to ‘spot the penis’. Chris wins in the first few minutes.

Hedonism II is a ‘clothing optional’ resort, with a ‘prude’ beach and a nude beach. This is the sign you spot on your way to the nude beach (Picture: Ellen Scott/Metro.co.uk)

We’re handed rum punch while we gaze at a painting of Mona Lisa with her tits out. The chairs are designed to look like the smooth outlines of toned bums.



We may have been told repeatedly that this is a place for ‘party people’ but honestly I’m just keen for a nap (both from jetlag and being overwhelmed).

Dinner is a spectacle. Normally I’d be entranced by the rows of macarons and freshly grilled lobster tail, but couples take up my attention. There are women in tops made of sparkling chainmail, men wearing short shorts (there’s a rock and roll costume competition, which explains some of the outfit choices).

I’m hypnotised by the guests’ grooming choices. One woman walks by in heels and nothing else, and I marvel at how smooth her pubic area is. There’s not a single hair. Not a hint of stubble. No ingrowns or redness or darker patches. They’re Barbie bits, and suddenly I feel like a failure of a woman for having no clue how she’s achieved them.

Laser hair removal, surely. An excellent wax?

It’d be easy to get into a terrible cycle of comparison here. When you’re presented to a string of bodies with everything on show, you notice the tiniest differences between their details and yours.

Look at how that girl’s breasts sit. That’s not how mine do it. Look at that woman’s bum. I need to up my squats.

But then I spot older women gleefully pulling down their tops and lifting up their skirts in attempts to win cheers for the costume contest. I see women with rolls sitting by the pool. They’re not bothered at all and it’s really lovely to see.


Goals for the week: Get as comfortable being naked as all the non-models here. No more comparing. Feel sexy.

Chris

A seemingly-meek American man on the shuttle bus tells us that he’s been coming to Hedo four times a year since ’92, which is before half of us were even born. The things he must’ve seen. I look at him with empathy normally reserved for war veterans.

In my head I’d imagined it all like a parody porn version of Ibiza, since every encounter thus far was incessantly asking if I was ready to party – ‘no, but are you really ready to party?’ – but at first glance its ‘vibes’ lend itself closer to your ma on a cruise ship.

A covers band play Bon Jovi, there’s a whiff of crème de menthe liqueur. A gentleman is chancing his third round of seafood.

For a nudist resort, couples have clearly spent considered time in choosing their costumes for tonight’s ‘Rock Night’.

I watch Jimi Hendrix extend a hand to Lemonade-era Beyoncé and lead her closer to the stage. In the distance, Janet Jackson’s boob falls out.

Then the magic happens. There’s something so heart-affirming to see older couples so in love with each other on the dance floor. A look. A glance. A soft hand comforting the waist.

Hang on, she didn’t come in with him. No, I’m absolutely bloody certain of it. Jesus effing Christ they’ve all swapped partners.

Horniness fogs the room like mist on the sea. I go outside for fresh air. I don’t find it. People I can’t see are having orgasms it’s impossible to avoid hearing.


Where am I? Where have I come?

Young Swingers Week doesn’t even officially begin until tomorrow.

People considerably less wrinkled will smash their dangly bits together, drunkenly hooking up in the hot tub and picking which couples they’d like to f**k.

We expect public sex acts. Live, interactive demonstrations of spanking and orgasms. Buffet dinners followed by orgies.

We must brace ourselves. The swingers are coming.

The Sex Resort Diaries will be running all week. Do check back tomorrow for tales of getting sand in some uncomfortable places.

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