Heather's Honeymoon Ch. 05

Before dawn on the sixth and final day of their honeymoon, John lay in bed listening to the soft spray of water far below their window. He could make out conversations in Spanish and the sound of metal scraping on asphalt. He envisioned the ground's crew, dressed in their green shorts and polo shirts with the resort's name written in gold script over the breast pocket, hosing down the pool area, aligning chairs in curved rows along its kidney shape and covering them with the foam pads that are stacked each night in a shed behind the snack bar.

The workers clean the pool area early because vacationers flock from their rooms at daybreak to save the best locations around the pool. Chair hoarding is serious business at the resort, and its mix of competitive intensity and inconsideration gave John a bemused chuckle all week. Each morning he'd look down from the balcony as men and women scurried to and fro, marking territories with a multitude of personal items--books and beach bags, sandals and sneakers, towels and T-shirts--and then meander back into the hotel, presumably for a few more hours of sleep. They'd return later, well rested and ready for another afternoon in the sun, while other guests had been relegated to the second row all morning.

John didn't go to the balcony this morning. He and Heather had been up late. He stayed curled on his side, his eyes closed and the sheet pulled to his chin. With the scent of institutional detergent filling his nostrils, he made a correlation between the chair saving ritual and his own decision early on to ask Heather to marry him. He'd dated her only a year, but that was long enough to know she was the one for him. To John, Heather was that coveted lounge chair by the pool, the one worth getting up early for. Her pledge to wait for marriage before sex didn't dissuade him. He knew a good thing when he saw it; so he did as the chair runners do...he pounced early, marked his territory and waited for his time in the sun.

John uncurled his six foot frame and stretched, the crisp white sheet sounding like a sail in a breeze as he unwrapped and re-wrapped himself in it. He was excited, thinking of the night before, thinking of the sexual firsts he and Heather had accumulated during the week.

Their third day had been a cornucopia of initiations for Heather... swallowing, being exposed on the beach, having anal sex, getting her cute butt spanked, being watched. The list went on and on. He was amazed at how excitedly she'd taken to it all. Now, as he lay in bed on their last morning, day three seemed like a long time ago.

Asking Heather to be his "love slave" had turned out to be a savvy idea on John's part. It provided her with a reason to go wild, and an excuse for doing so. No matter how kinky they got, she could claim she was doing only what her husband wanted her to. They had many adventures over the week, and whenever John asked about the excitement he saw in her, she insisted her pleasure was derived not from satisfying her own needs but from her strong desire to please him.

This sounded good in theory. But when John thought about it, which was many times a day, he saw Heather's rationalizations as half truths. No doubt she liked pleasing him. That much was apparent. But it was also apparent she got off on their adventures as much as he did, and not because of the satisfaction she saw John getting from them.

As he thought back on the week, he realized many of the things they did on day three and beyond happened with very little prodding from him.

He remembered how she'd welcomed him back to their room after his archery class, with the side strings of her bikini pulled high and her inflamed pussy lips making lumps in the suit. She'd scrunched the cups of the top too, letting her breasts practically spill out.

He thought of her standing proudly before the Frisbee players and disrobing down to her see-thru lingerie, her erect nipples clearly showing through her bra. She could have removed her sundress more discreetly sitting on the towel, but she hadn't.

He thought of her spreading her legs and burying her heels in the sand as the voyeur walked by them on the beach. She had spread her legs as he passed without any prompting from John, giving him a view of her thong pulled deep into her gash.

And he remembered her stealing a look at the voyeur when he was hiding in the palm grove, and asking John to come in her mouth when she knew the man was watching. It wasn't until a lengthy and evasive conversation the next day when Heather would finally admit to seeing the man there, which to John validated his point that she hadn't done it for his benefit.

And then there was everything that happened last night, their last in St. John.

John rolled over toward his bride and blinked open his eyes for the first time that morning. Dawn's first light seeped through a crack in the curtains, throwing a dull illumination into the center of the room while leaving the corners of the walls obscured in shadow. He looked at Heather intently, making out the steady rise and fall of the white sheet over her naked form. He listened to her breathing and noted how still she was.

Her dark hair spilled from the pillow like a waterfall. He reached over and trickled his fingers through it ever so gently, not wanting to wake her after a night of doing things to please him. He loved her with all his heart, and found he was comfortable crossing boundaries with her. He wasn't mad at her for the night they shared and he wasn't jealous. He had loved every part of it, especially watching her excitement. When his hand found a spot in her hair that was matted he didn't jerk it away. Instead, his cock began to stir, visualizing how it had become so crusty. He knew he'd want more adventures. He just wanted Heather to be honest about her excitement for them.

He rolled over, away from Heather, his newly sharpened spike carving into the bed as he turned. He pushed his cock into the mattress, remembering night three's dinner conversation, when he'd admitted getting excited watching Heather suck his fingers, pretending it was another man's cock in her mouth. Heather had sipped her wine, turned away and fidgeted in her seat when she heard his admission; she did everything but look at him. Then she reminded him she was his love slave and would do whatever he wanted.

The curious thing for John, the exciting thing, was knowing "love slave day" would be over in just a few hours and she had elected not to mention that.

John continued pushing his cock against the mattress while letting his mind wander ahead to day four...the day he taught Heather to deep throat him. Since sucking him on their wedding night it was evident she had a natural talent. She was enthusiastic and loving, selfless and eager, not shy about body fluids. Best of all, sucking seemed to excite her immensely. Many times while sucking him she'd masturbate, timing her orgasm to his, and sometimes she could even come without touching herself at all.

Day four had been rainy--their only bad weather day--which was okay by them as they each were fried by the sun by that point. John was sitting in a chair in their room by the sliding door leading to the balcony. Heather was on her knees before him, naked, looking up like a puppy wanting a bone.

John put his cock in her mouth and watched Heather take it as far back in her throat as she could. She got about three quarters of it in and waited, hoping her gullet would acclimate to the sensation and open more. When it didn't, John pushed her head down and she gagged.

Heather stayed kneeling with her head hanging as she gathered her senses, her hand gripping the base of his cock as if it was a lifeline. Then she lifted her head and went down on him again, just as devotedly.

John slid his cock in until he felt it bump against the back of her virgin throat. He threaded his hands into her hair. His leg moved between hers and his fingers tightened around her head. He noticed she was slippery with anticipation as she slid up and down on his leg. He waited almost a full minute and when her gullet didn't acclimate, he pushed her head down again.

They did this five times, the fifth ending with John coming in her mouth. She swallowed every drop and then they took a break. Later in the afternoon, they had another session and John came again--though his two orgasms were no match to the many Heather had piled up. She was responding positively to his aggressive behavior. She liked taking direction, she liked being his toy. John wondered if she was loving it all for him, or if she loved it for herself too.

Later that night, after dinner, Heather said she didn't want to go to the disco as on previous nights. She knew what John wanted, and led him back to their room.

John lay on the bed looking at his bride as she took off her blouse and skirt in front of the mirror. She gazed at her body, clad in her new periwinkle thigh highs, thong and push-up bra, looking very comfortable with the woman she was becoming. She adjusted her perky boobs in her bra, turned around and crawled onto the bed, getting on her haunches between John's legs. His right leg went between hers and he watched as she rubbed up and down on it. Then he guided her mouth to him and she went as deep as she could. His cock was big and hard when it hit the gate of her gullet. He reminded her to relax, to breathe through her nose, to not stop breathing no matter what or she'd gag. Then he put his hands in her hair.

She would admit later what a thrill it was waiting for him to push her head down.

He pushed with more force than he had during the day. When she jerked up he pushed down again and didn't let her up. He kept pushing against her gullet, cutting off her air while reminding her to breathe through her nose. She felt slutty, violated and completely aroused. Just then her gullet sprang open and she engulfed his cock down to his nuts.

Heather moaned loudly as John kept his hands on her head. Several seconds later he relaxed his grip and her head bobbed up like a submerged buoy. She looked down, drooling, blinking, panting. Then she lifted her head, opened her mouth and took him in again.

This time she deep throated him without any help. For ten seconds John's hands remained at his sides as she stayed motionless with his cock seated in her throat. She breathed through her nose and moaned, eventually sliding him out little by little. She stroked him with her hand and sucked the head, then brought him back in deep again.

Her orgasm started well before his. She was working herself up for another one when she felt his cock spasm and his pearly load filled her mouth. She drank it down with immense satisfaction, seeing it as a reward for a job well done. When she had finished swallowing everything, she looked up from her knees with a big smile. It had taken all day, but she had done it. She was proud of her new trick. A trick John had wanted her to learn...

Lying on his side while stroking his cock, John blinked his eyes and looked around the room. The shadows in the corners had marginalized. The sounds of the hose and mumbled voices had ceased. The running for the chairs would be in full swing by now.

He realized he didn't need to come right then. He'd averaged probably four or five orgasms a day over the last week. It had been a passionate honeymoon, and had changed his wife from an innocent girl to a sexual dynamo. And yet, after all that had happened, he still wasn't sure if Heather was doing it for him, or for herself. He was determined to find out. A conversation gathered in his mind, one he hoped would help her confess her own desires. He thought of a dialog, and then rolled over to spoon into her.

***

Heather awoke early on their last morning with a desire to come. After the sexy start to her honeymoon--making love for the first time, sucking John for the first time, being licked for the first time--her hunger seemed to grow by what it fed upon. And then came day three, the day when everything seemed possible and none of it inappropriate; the day her hunger became a craving.

She'd never had multiple orgasms before, but day three brought with it an ability to come effortlessly. Some of her orgasms were bigger then others, but the small ones offered a rapid succession that made her stomach flutter. Lying in bed, she longed for the big ones, and longed for the tummy ticklers too.

Heather heard water showering the deck below and thought it was raining as it had on day four. She was groggy, not ready to get up, the room still dark and conducive to sleep. She lay on her side coiled away from John, the sheet pulled over her frame. Other than her chest rising, only the fingers of her right hand moved. She was remarkably wet. She was also sore to the touch. She wondered how in the sober light of morning John would react to their evening.

As she'd done several times on her honeymoon, Heather thought back to an incident that happened when she was a senior in high school. She had always been innocent, but one day she found herself alone in a house with four boys. She was completely out of her element, but she was lured by the attention she was receiving. When the boys pulled out a men's magazine she didn't walk away from the situation as she otherwise would have. It was the first time she'd seen such explicit pictures and she found herself oddly captivated.

She was on a couch with a boy on either side of her and the other two boys standing in front of her. Her head was spinning as they looked at the pictures together.

The boy to her left whispered they would never say a word to anybody, and then he cupped her breast through her blouse. She knew how wrong it was, knew how crazy it was, but for the first time in her life she felt naughty and reckless and didn't pull his hand away.

Soon, the boy to her right was fondling her other breast while they all gazed at a series of pictures of a pretty blonde girl on her knees, sucking several men. Heather's nipples rose as she studied the photographs and she felt a warmth between her legs. It wasn't long before the boy on her left was unbuttoning her blouse and unhooking her bra.

Her blouse was off and her bra in her lap when the mother of the boy whose house it was walked in on them. Seeing the scene, the mom understandably threw a fit, calling Heather a slut and telling them all to get out of her house. Heather quickly put on her blouse and ran for the door with her bra in her hand, her shame palpable. It got far worse the next day when word of the incident leaked out and circulated through school.

From that day, Heather had vowed to herself she'd wait for marriage. She kept true to her promise, even suppressing her desires when she and John were so seriously in love in college.

But many times when she was alone in her bed, or in the bathtub, she would remember that day with the four boys. She would pretend the mother had never come home and she was the girl in the photos, sucking them all, letting them take her in any way they wanted.

Now, on her honeymoon, she realized her husband was open to all sorts of exploration and possibilities, that he would welcome the secret thoughts she'd always kept submerged. As the days went by, she couldn't help but let her pent-up desires flood to the fore, and on the last night of their trip the dam burst open. For their final night in St. John, Heather had dressed in a silk camisole with spaghetti straps, a little pleated skirt, thigh highs and a matching aqua bra and thong. The honeymooners had enjoyed a candlelight dinner at a small, beachside restaurant and then headed back to the resort and necked and drank wine in a dark booth in the disco. She'd been his love slave since day three, listening to John and doing whatever he asked of her...sucking him in elevators...touching herself under their dinner table...undoing a button to tease a bartender. In the booth, John's hand found its way to her thigh as they cuddled. She didn't protest when she felt his fingers wiggle inside her thong and start working their magic. She looked about the room to make sure they were unnoticed and saw someone at the bar looking across the dance floor at them. At first she didn't recognize him, but his sad eyes gave him away.

"Oh my God!"

John pulled his wet fingers from her. "What, baby?"

"It's the voyeur from the beach!"

John gazed across the bar and recognized the man. Heather waited for him to say something, and when he didn't she reached for his hand and put it back inside her thong while looking to the bar.

"You're not thinking of inviting him over, are you?" She said hesitantly.

John hadn't been planning on it, but he was too curious to see how she'd react not to.

It didn't take long for the man to realize he'd been summoned. He ordered another drink at the bar and strolled over. Getting to their booth he smiled down at Heather as she put her hand on her husband's leg. He was older, maybe forty, visibly tipsy and good-looking.

Without acknowledgement of how they knew one another, John asked him to join them. When the man crowded into the booth on the other side of Heather, she felt very small between the two of them.

"You clean up nicely," he said brashly, in lieu of a hello.

Heather blushed, remembering that she'd been covered in come the only other time he'd seen her.

"So you remember us?" John said with a laugh.

"The vision of this one'll be with me a while," the man said, cocking his head toward Heather. "You see all kinds of things in the islands when you look for them."

His name was David and in spite of his boldness, or maybe because of it, Heather found him entertaining. At one point she fingered his wedding ring and waited for a reply. He said his wife didn't like loud music and was asleep in their room. Heather gave him her newly perfected pout and brushed her fingers against his.

Over the course of the evening she danced with David several times as John watched from the booth. When a slow song followed a fast one, she and David stayed on the floor while John continued watching.

She settled into David's arms and felt his leg pushing against her thigh. He was a good dancer, and she wondered if John was noticing David's hand moving down her body, settling on her butt. She did nothing to move it away and glanced over to the booth. She saw John watching intently and rested her head on David's shoulder, hoping John was hard. She felt almost naked in David's arms, the short skirt riding up and only the tiny thong and thigh highs underneath. She was so squirmy with desire she could hardly stand it.

When the song ended, the couple came back from the dance floor. Heather was flushed and giggly in the booth while John ordered more drinks. As he turned back from the waitress he saw Heather quickly remove her hand from David's knee. She touched her husband's thigh, leaned toward him and whispered, 'I love you."

The three of them sat close together in the booth again with Heather in the middle. As she and David talked and joked, John slipped his free hand underneath the table onto her knee. She felt it crawl up her leg to her thigh, and inch inward toward her pussy. She was possibly wetter than she'd ever been in her life and that concerned her. As much as she wanted John's fingers inside her, she wasn't sure she wanted him to discover just how wet she was right then.

She felt his fingers slip inside her thong and she couldn't resist leaning back and straightening her legs, enabling him to go deeper inside her.

Heather was scrunched down in the booth, her legs spread under the table, one resting on John's leg, the other finding its way against David's. Feeling both men's legs against hers while being fingered by her husband made her pussy even more drenched. She was conversing with David but her voice was getting shakier by the minute and her breathing became labored. Even David, who couldn't see under the table, could sense she was close to orgasm. When John suggested they go back to the room, Heather straightened up in the booth and said "okay" almost without thought, or maybe after much of it. John saw the familiar look in her eyes. She was in a trance and would do whatever he wanted...