Honeymoon Hazards (8 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

--need your help. Still at bar. You okay?

I came to my senses. Quickly wriggling out of the hedge, I brushed the dirt and leaves off my clothes. My legs and arms were covered with scrapes. I had no idea how I’d explain it.

I approached the bar and sure enough, Claire and Annabelle were at the center of a group of young men. But the blonde was far from the life of the party. She could barely hold up her head and was looking around dazed.

For a moment I thought evilly about just getting Claire out of there, leaving Annabelle to get her comeuppance. It would be an appropriate repayment for the trouble she’d caused last night. If she hadn’t shown up with Trent, if she hadn’t gotten into a pissing match with Claire, if she hadn’t gotten me high and kissed me, none of this would have happened. I’d have consummated my marriage with my wife rather than dazedly watching her impale herself on that English bastard’s fat prick. And if she was going to do all that anyway, the least she could have done is fucked me silly rather than running off with the first tanned, hard body to make a pass at her.

I sighed. I couldn’t do that to her. She was just too drunk. It wasn’t fair. Whatever she’d done, she didn’t deserve to have her semi-conscious body passed around like a sex doll.

I edged my way into the mix, and the mood immediately changed. The guys glared at me angrily, but this was no longer just a couple of drunk sluts out for a good time. With me there, they had to behave with a minimum of deference to our status as guests. When I made clear I wasn’t leaving, they slowly, regretfully broke away in ones and twos until just the girls and I remained.

“I thought you were going to leave us to our fate,” Claire said.

“Oh, you can handle yourself.”

She smirked. “Yeah, but last night should have taught you that I don’t always want to when I’m drunk.”

“I still can’t believe you fucked him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, neither can I.”

Just then Annabelle chimed in drunkenly. “Where are the guys? I need to get fucked.” She belied that assertion by immediately closing her eyes and dozing off.

“How come you’re not as drunk as her?”

“I switched to virgins a couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to be too hammered for my first girl-on-girl make out session.”

“Would you really have gone through with it?”

“I dunno. Maybe at least part way. I do owe you big time.”

“Yeah, you do.”

She eyed me curiously. “Why aren’t you more upset? I was seeing red when you and Annabelle started getting cozy, and that…”

“… is nothing compared to what you did,” I said, finishing her sentence. “Honestly, I don’t know. Truth is, from the moment I first saw you with Trent, I’ve been fantasizing wildly about you.”

“With him?”

I nodded. “And others. Her,” I said pointing to Annabelle, “them,” I added gesturing toward the retreating staffers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Believe me, I have it all mapped out. Do you like foosball?”

As I said it, I had another vision. Claire was still bent over the foosball table. The big Samoan had just finished. As he backed away, I could see her battered cunt, swollen, very red, gaping open, a thin stream of jism leaking out and running down her thigh. And then another man stepped forward and penetrated her forcefully.

“Huh?”

I laughed. “Never mind. What are we going to do with her?”

“We need to get her home.”

I nodded. We each took her under one arm and lifted her up and carried her out of the bar.

We managed to get Annabelle to mumble where she was staying. It was one of those beachfront villas. I was jealous of the Millionaire for a second, until I remembered that his wife was, at that very moment, getting railed by Trent in a poolside cabana. Then again, that just gave us something in common. I had the feeling that the membership of the “cuckolded by Trent” club was vast.

We knocked on the door. One of the young boys opened the door.

“Dad, Annabelle’s back.”

The Millionaire glared at us from the living room.

“She had a little too much to drink,” I said, for some reason apologizing for her.

He rolled his eyes. “Her room’s upstairs.”

He didn’t bother to get up and help us as we manhandled her up the stairs. We got her into her room, and draped her across the bed.

“Should we get her out of her clothes?” I asked.

Claire raised an eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

She laughed. “She’ll be okay. She’s barely wearing anything anyway.”

As we came back down the stairs, I was again struck by her father’s almost complete disinterest in her condition.

“Um, so your daughter…“

He actually sighed at me.

Just then the front door opened and his wife flounced in. My wife was still in her pool attire, a bikini and wrap. I was covered in scrapes and dirt. We obviously didn’t belong. Seeing us, she approached her husband. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, waving her cleavage in his face. I wondered if he could smell Trent’s come on her or whether the flash of boob was enough to distract him from everything else.

“Jerry, is everything okay?” she asked, rolling the Rs delightfully.

“Everything fine’s Elsa. Just my daughter, getting into her usual trouble.”

She sighed and rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. “Just like her mother.” Then she added, under her breath, but loud enough for us to hear, “La puta.”

This display of world class chutzpah was enough to make me feel sympathy for Annabelle. Maybe she was a drunken whore, but having this woman as a stepmother would drive anyone to distraction.

I felt Claire’s hand on my shoulder. “We should go,” she said to me. And to the parents, she added, “Have a good evening Mr. and Mrs. Zimmer.”

She led me to the front door. We stepped outside into a warm, tropical evening. We walked for a little while in silence. Without Annabelle there to distract us from our own issues, things were awkward between us. But there was something about the smells, the sounds of the ocean waves, the beauty of the resort and lighted pools that just ate away the tension.

I reached down and took my wife’s hand in mine. She looked over at me and smiled.

“For a second there I thought you were going to smack her.”

“Can you believe that woman?”

Claire laughed. “She is something else, but you gotta admit, Abs is a hot mess.”

“Abs?”

“Anna Belle. She goes by Abs.”

“Seems like you two bonded.”

She laughed again. “Yeah, over tales of debauchery.”

“I doubt you hold a candle to her.”

“Well, last night went a long way toward evening our slut scores.”

I nodded. That was certainly true. Sex with a stranger. Check. Sex in public. Check. Fucking another man in front of your husband. Check. Going back to his room to continue screwing. Check. Waking him up the next morning with a hummer to get some more dick. Check. Walk of shame back to your own room without your panties. Check.

“You never told me you’d had a threesome.”

“You never asked.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve also never asked if you’d had sex with a donkey. But I figure if you had a thing for animals, it might have come out.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Yuck.”

“So, story?”

“It isn’t really that interesting.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Okay, well, you remember the booze cruise story?”

I nodded.

“Well, this was that night.” She paused and laughed. “You know what? That might have been ten years ago to the day of yesterday. That would be a weird coincidence. It’s like I’m a once-in-a-decade slut. A decaslut.”

“I think a decaslut would be a slut times ten, actually, if I remember my metric right.”

She shrugged.
Whatever
. “It’s not like we really stopped drinking, though we did take a break to nap on the beach at one point. We ended up going to this dance club, and of course they were holding a wet tee shirt contest.”

“You didn’t!”

“God no. They were even smaller back then. All the contestants were built like Elsa or Abs. I wouldn’t have had a chance.”

“Well, I don’t think winning is really the idea. The idea is showing off and maybe widening the universe of guys who want to fuck you.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t a problem. I couldn’t turn around that trip without some guy showing me his prick. Fucking Cancun and the Internet are the two places where guys think exposing their cocks is an effective pick up technique.”

“It probably works if you’re hung like Trent.”

She chuckled ruefully. “He is definitely something.”

“We can talk about Mr. Wonder Dick later. Finish your story.”

“You mentioned it.” She paused. “Anyway, I ended up with my friend Tammy and this group of guys from Michigan and another couple of girls from, like Alabama and Texas or something. I think we ended up sharing a bus taxi back to the hotel or something. We sat out by this filthy pool. No one wanted to go in. You can imagine how nasty it was. Couldn’t even get a drunk college boy to jump in on a dare. Anyway, everyone sort of paired off. Alabama girl went off first with one boy. So we’re all making fun of her, calling her a slut and shit. And then a few minutes later one of the guys takes Tammy’s hand and leads her away! And I’m like, ‘you whore, don’t leave me out here.’ She just giggled and kept walking.”

“How many guys were left?”

“Three. So, of course, Miss Texas grabs the guy on her right and disappears and I’m left with these two guys.”

“You didn’t have to fuck them, you know.”

She shrugged. “It seemed rude not to.”

I looked at her incredulously.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It just didn’t occur to me not to. Believe me, I didn’t really want to. It’s not like I was burning with passion for those guys. But whatever. You’ve never had sex with a woman just because it was sort of expected?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Anyway, we went back up to their room. Thankfully their other roommates were still out.”

“What, you’d have felt obligated to fuck them too?”

“No, probably not, but they might have watched.”

“So, wait a minute. When you went back to their room, you were not only planning to have sex with two guys you’d just met that night, but you were also prepared to let their roommates watch?”

“Maybe I am a decaslut after all, huh?”

“I’ll say.”

She laughed. “Well, now I’m feeling pressure to give this story a good ending. Should I work a donkey into it? Anyway, it was sort of anticlimactic. Somehow letting them take turns on me seemed even worse, so I decided to just do them both at the same time. We got naked. They took turns fingering me. I jerked their cocks.”

“At the same time?”

“Yup. One in each hand. One guy had a bad case of whiskey dick, so I ended up just sucking on his limp dick while the other guy hammered me for a few minutes from behind. He finished up. I faked it. The guy with the soggy noodle finally tapped out in embarrassment. Maybe ten minutes from start to end.”

“Romantic.”

She laughed. “Believe me, it would not make my list of top ten sexual experiences.”

Somehow I knew that she couldn’t say that about her night with Trent.

“Okay, now the butt sex.”

“What? Oh right, you heard that.”

I nodded. She sighed.

“Remember Terry?”

“Yeah.”

I knew him from when Claire and I first started dating. He was part of a group of friends she hung out with, and I knew there had been something between them. He disappeared from her life at some point. I have a vague recollection he moved out East or something.

“So you know we dated, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, he was always, I dunno, obsessed about that part of my body.”

“You do have a great ass.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied with a giggle. “He thought so, too. He always wanted to have sex so he could see it.”

I thought about Claire’s admission to Annabelle that she’d done it with Trent doggy style. He seemed to share Terry’s judgment.

“He was always poking around back there, you know, during sex.”

“Do you like that?”

She nodded. “Who doesn’t like an occasional finger in the butt?”

“I’ve never… you’ve never mentioned it.”

She stopped and turned toward me. “It’s not really an easy thing to say. Even to someone you love. ‘I want you to put a finger in my ass.’ Sharing fantasies, even something as minor as that, is hard sometimes.”

I nodded. She continued looking at me. Was she expecting me to make an admission as well? Something about voyeurism? And wanting to see her with another man?

She turned and continued walking. “So, one day, I think it was his birthday, I told him he could, you know. I figured, what the heck. We shared a bottle of wine, then got in the shower together. It was quite nice actually. He was kissing me, down there, and fingering me in the butt with his soapy finger.”

“You told Abs you didn’t like it.”

“There is a big difference between a finger, or even a thumb, and a penis. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Anyway. We dried off and got into bed. He used a lot of lube. All textbook. Then he put it in, all slow and gentle, and it was like, ‘Oh fuck, this is not what I was expecting.’”

“Did you make him stop?”

She shook her head. “No, you know, I kept thinking it would get better, and it was his birthday and his fantasy and all that shit. But I’ll tell you what, I have never been more happy to have a man come on my ass than I was when he finally finished.”

We walked on in silence. I was weirdly disappointed. In a weird way, I’d wanted the stories to be hot. I’d wanted to hear my wife describing some enthusiastic, wild, athletic threesome. I’d wanted to hear her gushing about how much she’d loved getting fucked in the ass. I knew that I would have looked down on her for those stories, thought her a slut. And yet, it would undoubtedly turn me on.

“You’re very accommodating.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you fucked those two guys rather than disappoint them. And you let Terry finish even though you weren’t enjoying it. And it seems like you might have been willing to go through with messing around with Annabelle to placate me.”