Delayed Honeymoon

After eight years of marriage is an anniversary too late for a honeymoon? Interests diverge and I find I'm open to new experiences.

After eight years of marriage is an anniversary too late for a honeymoon? Interests diverge and I find I'm open to new experiences.

"Interesting read?"

Sitting reading in a quiet corner of the resort's private nude beach area I've been deeply immersed in the passionate lovemaking of two, until now severely antagonistic, characters in my book. Now to my deep embarrassment I realize that beneath the book my fingers have been playing and I'm quite wet. As the cultured masculine tones snap me out of my reverie, I find myself at eye level with the genitals that doubtless belong to the voice. I hold the book down firmly in my lap hoping he has not noticed. I struggle to come up with some kind of coherent response as I peruse his clean-shaven tanned testicles and the ample penis that hangs down over them.

"You seemed to be enjoying it." There's a chuckle hidden in his tone and I fear he knows my secret. "Nothing wrong with enjoying a read on a beautiful day. Perhaps you will show me the cover."

To do so will expose me so why do I lift it from my lap to show him. He takes it from me his fingertips brushing mine as he's careful to keep my page and a jolt goes through me. I can't even see him properly as he's standing behind the head of my lounger.

""Hard as Oak" an erotic romance," he reads, "I like the cover picture, an Elizabethan Frigate under full sail, very stirring. I can see the appeal." He steps forward so I can see him properly.

"You're teasing me." I say as I look up into his smiling face. He has strong features, an aquiline nose, perhaps broken at some time...not typically handsome but not unpleasant. My eyes glance back to what to my eyes are not insignificant endowments based on what my survey of other men here and my extremely limited personal knowledge tells me. I've given hand or head to maybe as many men as you can count on your fingers and had one sexual partner before my husband. As he starts talking as I tell myself that if I hadn't been reading such explicit erotic descriptions, I would never have paid this much attention.

"I'm Craig MacRae, most people call me Mac," he says handing me back my book which I quickly lay back in my lap, "and you are?"

"Jennifer Wexfield."

"A pleasure to meet you, Jennifer. What brings you here?"

"My husband. We're here on vacation; it's both our eight anniversary and a long-delayed honeymoon."

"So, married, but aren't we all. Where is the lucky man?"

"In the Casino."

"Amazing, so is my wife. I can't get her out of there."

"I should have checked the resort out more carefully; my husband has a mild gambling addiction, and I led him right to it."

"I can't see the attraction."

"Me neither."

"Well, maybe we can keep each other company. Did you just arrive?"

"Yesterday."

"Would you like to go for a swim?"

"I don't have a suit," I say without thinking.

"We're naked, you don't need one." I join in his laughter, but then say, "I'm sorry it's my first time on a nude beach and I'm getting used to it. I felt very brave coming over here."

"Indeed, you were but so are these other people, even me." He's laughing again.

"But to go in the water we have to go beyond the fence," I am on surer ground here.

"True, but we're still a bit away from the main beach. If people really want to look they will. I've seen a couple of people swim by our beach; then stop and stand up and gawk before swimming away. Some people are just gawkers, and we have to put up with them."

"I'm still not sure it's appropriate."

"What are you going to do, sit on your own like a nun for a week? I promise I'm not going to rape you...at least not until we know each other better and I have your consent." He's laughing at me, but not in a bad way. "By the way for a nun you have excellent taste in holiday reading."

"I'm no nun!" I retort, but I'm thinking it's true: what am I going to do all week if Robert's going to spend his time in the Casino? I don't want an endless succession of arguments. We have enough of those at home.

"Okay, you win. Let's go for a swim."

As we walk down to the water, I take him in. He's a little taller than me about five foot ten, lean and fit, probably around forty, so older than us; Robert's thirty-four and I'm two years younger. I'm a couple of steps behind as Mac enters the water...tight butt; it's clear he swims like a fish and in college I swam competitively so I like it. Although I swim energetically keeping pace with him, I can't stop the thoughts that pass through my head, "Is this wise? Why do I crave the nude beach? The truth is that if Robert joined me, we certainly wouldn't be sitting there...no nude beaches for him. He's very strait-laced even in the bedroom. I mean we have frequent sex, but he has never ever gone down on me or anything like that. In my book and in half the movies we watch men are doing that and the women love it. I'm sure I would but he won't do it. I'd like him to be more adventurous in life and in the bedroom.

We keep on swimming for a while and what are more or less versions of the same thoughts or their like are still buzzing around in my head. In fact, I'm so much in my own head it takes me a moment to realize what's his name Is talking to me... Craig...but he wants to be called Mac.

"It's a quarter to twelve I'm planning to pull on some shorts and go and get a sandwich or something from the pool kitchen. Would you like me to get you something?"

"I could do with a break. Why don't I put something on too and accompany you?"

"If you're sure, that would be perfect."

Ten minutes later we are sitting in the shade of an umbrella at a table on the pool restaurant's patio looking at their lunch menu. We are not alone but it's not crowded. Nobody pays us much attention. We probably look like just another couple; an attractive one I'd like to think. We order, both choosing the flying fish sandwiches, one with a fresh salad and the other with fries and we agree to share the sides as any couple might. Mac orders a chilled bottle of Sancerre which arrives almost immediately in its bucket of ice. The waiter expertly opens it and pours the almost transparent liquid into our two glasses. He returns almost immediately with a bottle of still water. The water glasses are already part of the table setting.

Mac starts by telling me a bit about himself. They live in New Jersey and he works in New York. His wife stopped working to look after the twins. He asks about Robert and me, do we have children and I say not yet but soon, I hope. Robert says we should but keeps postponing. Of course, we are both so busy. We both work but in very different jobs. I explain we both started in advertising, that's where we met. Now Robert works in a large corporation managing all their printed publicity, including the layouts for their annual reports and internal newsletters and liaising with their marketing firm. I am an executive in a different marketing firm working both on sales and campaign development, which allows me to brainstorm with the creative teams. Increasingly I am being asked to present at conferences and promote our company's presence in the marketplace. I explain that it keeps me very busy, can be exhausting but I love it and consider myself very lucky.

I'm still talking long after the food has arrived and he's started eating, so far, I've only been enjoying the wine as I talk.

"These are delicious," I say noting this is the second time Mac has refilled my glass and I reach for my water glass. "It's the first time I've had flying fish; they don't really fly do they?" I reach for another fry and our fingers touch. Good God, that book! I really am in a state.

"If you want to skip going back to the beach, I could give you a tour around the island and you could see them, and no they don't really fly, more of a jump I guess but they can travel a surprisingly long way. It might be a good idea; you don't want too much sun on your first day."

"Yes, that might be smart!"

We order a lemon dessert, and it comes accompanied by a small but strong complimentary glass of flavored rum and as we get up and start to walk, I'm feeling it, just relaxed, not tipsy, as we keep talking. Did I tell him I'd stopped taking the pill on the off chance it might happen here? I can't be sure, maybe...surely not!

We have left nothing at the nude beach, so we head straight over to the sports concession at the main beach and before I know it Mac has rented a jet-ski and is putting our bags in it. It's not quite what I had imagined but what the heck! I have my bag and the skort and a top I'm wearing, no swimsuit. Mac is in his beach shorts and says not to worry I can just wear the skort and no one will worry. I reply that I'm not going topless here even if plenty of others are.

If I'm going to avoid a sunburn, I should wear the top and he agrees. At first, I find the ride a little choppy, it's lucky I'm not prone to seasickness. It's a very hot day and as he speeds up the cool water that splashes up at me is actually rather pleasant. I'm holding on to the straps of his life jacket but after a while I find it easier to hold him round the waist. We've probably been going twenty minutes and it's smoother now, just riding a gentle swell. I'm almost nodding off when he says, "Look!" and I see the flying fish darting through the air around us. That continues until they're gone and soon, I see Mac is heading the jet-ski toward a small strip of sand on a tiny island. He runs it up onto the sand and when I climb off, he pulls it further up on the sand.

"Time for some shade and a break," he says, "I've got water, I hope you don't mind sharing. Let's get into the shade of that rock."

He pulls his bag from the storage compartment, and I follow him to the shade. He produces a thermos and a sheet from his bag, spreads the sheet and offers the thermos to me. I take a drink of cool water. It's nice to be out of the wind but as I stand holding the thermos only my legs are in the shade. I hold it out, and he takes it from me and drinks.

"Have you had enough?"

I nod and he screws the top back on.

"You're looking a little red. You're not sore, are you? Best if you put on more sunscreen. Take off your top, lie down and I'll put some on your back."

I start to do as he says and, immediately he continues, "Your legs have definitely caught a bit of sun. Why don't you take off your skort, it looks pretty wet anyway. If your legs caught it while swimming, I bet your ass did too. I'll hang your skort on the top of the rock to dry. I should maybe hang up my shorts too," and he shimmies out of them and picks them up. He's naked and it suits him. I decide he's already seen everything anyway and I take the skort off and hand it to him. As he goes to hang them up, I sit down on the sheet and find to get out of the sun completely I have to get lower. I lie back resting on my elbows.

"Your breasts are beautiful, but I really need you to lie on your front," he says with a chuckle, as he lowers himself to the sheet with the sunscreen in his hand. It's the first comment he's made about my body and in other circumstances I might think it a little too personal, but I know he's just trying to keep things light and I'll take the compliment.

I roll onto my front and quickly feel his hands on my shoulder blades. He works the lotion in and as he moves across and down my back and sides it feel more like a professional massage. I let myself relax just awake enough to monitor his movements which feel so good. He doesn't hesitate when he gets to my bum, but his hands only touch the areas where I must have caught the sun, no spreading my cheeks. He spends more time on the back and outsides of my upper thighs and that gives me a pleasant buzz but nothing to take exception to. In due course he reaches the back of my ankles and says, "Your back is done. You can turn over."

I roll over and rest on my elbows again. He's smiling at me squatting on his haunches between my feet.

"Would you like me to do your legs."

"If you want to." Why did I say that? I guess it's the feel of the massage.

"Lie back down then." His voice is soft and persuasive,

This time he starts at my feet and works his way up. I can't suppress the feeling building in me as he works up my thighs and nears my groin. Will he be insulted if I say something? I don't and immediately I'm glad I didn't as he moves quickly from my thighs to my hips and then moves on up. The closest his hands got was just above my trimmed pubes. I've had therapeutic massage that got more...closer to my.... and I'm almost disappointed. My nipples stiffen as he approaches my breasts and I realize that although his touching has been beyond reproach I am tingling with arousal in all the naughty places. My legs have parted and he's moved up kneeling between them.

"You can do my breasts but be gentle they're very sensitive." I want him to touch them. I was afraid he wouldn't but now he rests his open palms over them making slow circling motions and I feel my hard nipples thrusting to enjoy the contact. It's very brief and then he's moved on doing my neck and cheeks, my nipples wanted more. Not just my nipples, I know how moist I am. It's just as well he didn't touch me there.

He's stopped and I wait, lying back staring up at the blue sky. His knees are shuffling backwards. Then I feel something I've never felt before, the caress of a tongue across my lips, those ones down there. I'm certain that's what it is. I draw in a breath and hold it as it happens again. What should I do? This is one of my fantasies. Robert considers this dirty. He's not even a big fan of blow jobs. I exhale as the tongue continues to lick and even probe lightly at my entrance which I already know is moist, open and opening more.

My heart is pounding as I feel a flick as light as a butterfly's wing, was it a finger or his tongue? His lips are sucking hard on the nub of my clit encouraging it to grow larger and harder. The slight stubble on his chin grazes my inner thighs. This is too much I must say something. What I believe is a finger circles my entrance and there's a gasp, "Yes!" ... mine, as two fingers slip into my wetness and out again leaving an aching void heightened by the sucking on my clit. A finger travels down pressing between my legs sending new sensations through me, then moves further circling my anal rosebud.

I feel his weight move up my body, lips now suckling my right nipple and his gentle bite, not enough to draw blood. Then his breath against my neck. The fingers now playing again at the entrance to my...my cunt. I could never say that dirty word to Robert, but I breathe it aloud as the fingers keep sliding in and out and then nothing and I feel so empty. Moments pass.

"Fuck me... please!" I practically shout it, and then I feel his tip press into me opening me further as he bites my shoulder. As he goes deeper, pushing past my cervix I lift my pelvis to meet him. He lifts his weight off me, and I feel his groin meet mine. He drives in and as he withdraws, I rise to follow him; it's just the beginning of a continuous rhythm flesh slapping flesh as our groins collide. This is what fucking should be like, ferocious and animalistic, not always tender and loving. It's too much and my orgasm sweeps over me, but he's still thrusting fiercely. My passion ebbs but not him, he's pounding into me and I'm chafed and sore, but he keeps going. I'm about to cry "Stop!" when I feel it again, the building of irresistible and indescribable sensations of pleasure. This time he's swept up in it too and he's shaking and jerking, his groin locked with mine spiling his sperm into me until we both collapse back onto the sheet.

"That was pretty stupendous, wouldn't you say? Really good!"

I have nothing to say as I lie there and reality sinks in. I've just been fucked by a man I hardly know. Only the third man who has ever fucked me...just the boy who took my cherry and Robert, but nothing like this.

"We should be getting back but let's just wash in the water for a minute, right? Your skirt thing will be dry." He starts to get up and then kneels again, "Jen, are you okay?"

I hate being called Jen, just as Robert hate to be called Bob, but then this man really doesn't know me.

"Yes fine! You're right we need to clean up and get back."

On the ride back he points as we pass another school of flying fish, but I hardly notice. There's too much to digest. I know I'm going to let him do these things to me several more times before the week is over and it's time for Robert and I to leave.

I'm not wrong; we do it in different ways and in different places, his bed, our bed, in the ocean, in a little sandy area he knows behind bushes just off the main beach, and scariest of all in the shower room at the fitness center. I even let him try anal; I endure it, but It's definitely not my thing. Apart from that one, all of them are good, some great, but none as intense as that first one on the island.

Robert spends most of each day in the Casino, but he does come snorkelling with me on our actual anniversary. It takes all my patience and guile to get Robert to fuck me in the dark where he won't see my hickey. He and I only do it twice and I confess to him that I didn't bring my pills with me. Not a full confession as it wasn't the accident I make it sound like. He says that's okay. What are the odds?

Of course, I hadn't anticipated the possibility of being impregnated by another man's sperm, but one doesn't have a crystal ball and what will be, will be. On our penultimate afternoon I come straight out and ask Mac if he's ever done this before with someone else. It began to seem like a routine with these special places he knows. He pauses and looks at me and figures I've worked it out.

"Yes, we come here for three weeks twice a year. Maude exhausts her casino habit, and I hang out on the nude beach. From time to time, I meet someone... not like you, you were special, so vibrant and giving. Then we go home to our kids and just be a normal family."

"So, you don't just hang on the beach...you seduce women."

"If they want me to. My wife enjoys hearing about it but doesn't want to watch. It's our thing. Does it matter?"

"Do you care if I have your baby?"

"No, do you?"

And that after all is the question.

The End