Adulterous Honeymoon

I am going to describe a honeymoon experience that is beyond anything that I could have imagined even a month ago. Alan and I were married on Saturday, August 1, and immediately, after the ceremony and reception in Connecticut, departed for Belize where we had reserved a resort cottage directly on the beach in a relatively secluded area near Dangriga on the Gulf of Honduras. As it turned out, several small houses and condos lined the perfect beach, but we were far from the typical tourist areas and there was the feeling of solitude without feeling isolated. The scenery and climate were perfect, and we prepared for a whole month (a wedding present from Alan’s folks and my Aunt Agatha) of unalloyed pleasure. So, here I was, Mrs. Alan Stone, aka Anita Stone, nee Anita Simpkins, or just Nita, ready for a perfect honeymoon. However, nothing ever is completely perfect, and we had one major setback – Alan couldn’t have sex! He had suffered several, very painful, kidney stones in the months before the wedding, and, while the major stone was gone, he still had a temporary (we hope) production of “gravel” which had caused the doctors to insert a “stent” to prevent clogging the tube from his bladder through his cock. As a result, an erection was highly unlikely, and if it did happen, it would be quite painful. To prevent that from happening, he was prescribed some pills which would prevent an erection – a reverse Viagra! Needless to say, this completely dampened his libido and the normal ecstasy of honeymooners in paradise was lacking its driving force, i.e. sex. So, here we were in that love-makers’ paradise, and I, at the age of 21 and newly married, remained that 21^st century rarity, a virgin.

Other than that minor problem, the situation was as flawless as one could ask. Beautiful water, smooth white sandy beach, sunny, cloudless sky – ideal. The cottage in the resort was of very high quality with a large bedroom (no cute “honeymoon suite” items), a larger living room-kitchen, with top-of-line furniture and appliances. Outside there was a lovely covered patio with chairs, chaises, tables, etc., and beautifully landscaped. Very luxurious. We were equipped with the latest digital cameras and two high-def movie cameras to record what was to be a delightful honeymoon in an exotic setting. Alan was an expert photographer, almost professional in ability, so we intended to have a full record of our activities to enjoy for years. We loved walking the beach, our feet in the clear water, me wearing the shockingly brief bikini bathing suit with which I had planned to keep Alan’s juices flowing and his cock hard. Ah, the best laid plans – no hard cock and I wasn’t being laid! Actually, things weren’t totally unpleasant in the area of sex. Alan was as disappointed as I was, but he tried to console himself, and me, that the stent would come out as soon as we got home and his normal physical reactions would return. Until then, he concentrated on giving me as much pleasure as possible through the use of his still active fingers and tongue. I did not lack for orgasms, just not the type coming from a cock embedded in my still virgin cunt.

There was one other condition that Alan suffered as a result of a second medication prescribed to cut down on the production of that infamous gravel. It was nothing serious nor of any real inconvenience, but, whenever he lay down flat on his back, he would drift off to sleep. The medication had no effect at any other time so he was alert and aware any time we were out walking or swimming, at a restaurant, or wherever – just when he was lying flat. It did mean that he was very well rested and it didn’t really bother me. I really noticed this condition for the first time the second day we were outside our cottage lying on mats we had spread on the sand. The view was beautiful and it was all very serene. There were people lounging on the beach and others walking along the shore, but we were mostly sheltered from view by low dunes on both sides. If I sat up, I could see hundreds of yards in both direction, but if I lay back, it was if I were completely hidden form everyone unless they looked up between the dunes as they walked by. We thought of as our “private place,” or just “our place.” It was shaded somewhat by a tree that sheltered us from the direct rays of the sun, but let enough get through to permit a gradual tan. A very pleasant place to lie and relax. Alan had been lying beside me, his head on several rolled up towels, reading the paper, but as I remarked to him about the perfect location, I got no reply. I looked over and realized that his eyes were shut. The rolled up towel he was using as a pillow had flattened out and, as his head went back, he had gone to sleep. I didn’t think anything about it right than, but it happened several more times, always when he was prone and, finally, we made the connection. After that, we purchased a mat with a built-in pillow extending its full width which made sure that he kept his head elevated whenever he lay down. So, once we figured out the cause of this narcolepsy and made corrections, it was no problem at all. In fact, he fell asleep that way only one more time, and that time wasn’t an accident and had a real impact.

Tuesday, August 4. The third day of our honeymoon, fourth of our married life started the same as the previous two, getting up, eating breakfast and running down our path and over the sandy beach to the water. The water was warm, the waves just enough to make it interesting and, all in all, it was just what a cottage on the beach should provide. After about a half hour of swimming and playing around, we ran back to our spot between the dunes, grabbed our towels, dried off and lay back on the fiber mats we had placed on the sand. Exhilarating! Alan read the paper, I had a romance novel and it was warm and comfortable and we were very happy just to be together and married. After about an hour, we went back into the water, more calmly this time, just floating and jumping over the waves. Then, something (or, really, someone) new appeared. It was a tall, reasonably good looking man about our ages who, it turned out, had the small cottage right next to ours. Actually, we had known that a building was there, but several palm trees and shrubs blocked it from our view and we hadn’t seen anyone about. He introduced himself as Bob Saunders from Cincinnati, but he was living in Belize while working for a boating company. He seemed very nice and the three of us quickly became friends. When we left the water, he came with us, continuing our conversation as we dried off and sat down. As we talked, I realized that his eyes were roaming over my body and, suddenly, I was very aware of just how little I had on.

When I had first put the suit on and was going out to the beach, I was shocked by how little it covered. In the dressing room in the store back home, it just looked daring, but going out in public seemed to have caused it to shrink! The bra covered my breasts, barely, and the pants were nothing but a small triangle in front and a slightly larger one in back! The bottom part did fit very tightly and did its job without coming off despite its limited support, but it still shifted enough that occasionally I would look down and see a little hair coming out. Actually, most people (women, anyway), would say that my triangle of cunt hair should have been shaved back, but I just hadn’t realized how small the pants were. In any case, Alan and I like my relatively hairy bush, and he even liked seeing the stray hairs peeking out! Still, I was a bit embarrassed when I saw myself in the mirror, but Alan said that I was beautiful and sexy in it and insisted that I wear it. In fact, after seeing many young (and a few older) women going topless, he even urged me to just wear the pants. I wouldn’t even consider that, but I had quickly become accustomed to what really was near nudity and by the third day, I felt quite comfortable. Now, however, with a strange man clearly fascinated by what was showing, my original embarrassment returned. I couldn’t think of any way to cover myself without being obvious, so I decided to hide as much as I could and lay face down saying, “I’d better turn over and get the sun on my back.” That left me with only a string holding my bra and a small triangle covering my bottom, but at least my front was hidden. Unfortunately, Alan warned me, “Nita, you’d better put some sunscreen on your back or you’ll be cooked!”

It was then that something totally unexpected took place. I put some lotion on my hands and rubbed it into my shoulders, but, of course, couldn’t reach my back, so I said, “I can’t reach any further, Alan, you’ll have to do it.” He was lying down with a towel of his legs – they had gotten a bit sunburned the day before – and Bob quickly offered, “Here, let me do it.” Suddenly, I felt his lotion-covered hand on my shoulder blades, slipping smoothly downward over my back. My first reaction to the soothing coolness was to relax, as it felt so good, but, unexpectedly, I felt myself tense up as, without any warning, he tugged on the bow holding my bra strap, pulling it loose, leaving my back bare. Actually, I usually did the same thing myself to prevent a line there, but somehow it was very different having an attractive man that I had just met do it – particularly since I had just turned over to avoid his searching eyes. I was further flustered as I, shockingly, felt a surge of heat in my cunt area.

Thatwas totally bewildering! Why on earth should I react like that to such an unimportant act? Still, the heat was there and I became hypersensitive to the massaging of my back, all the more so when his hand went down the middle of my back, past my waist until his fingers hit the little bit of cloth that made up the bottom of my bathing suit. He ran his fingers along the cloth, spreading the sunscreen over the exposed flesh – which I knew was much of my behind. It was funny to feel his fingers going over skin which was always hidden under my panties and very close to some very private territory! Then, I felt myself tense up as I felt his fingertips probing the edge of my pants, trying to ship under into that intimate area. Fortunately, while the suit was brief, it was very tight and his efforts were frustrated. I relaxed in relief when he recognized his defeat, starting to spread the lotion along my side at my waist and began to move back up. I was lying with my arms up under my head, my face toward Alan who was laying there, eyes half closed as he looked toward the sky. I have quite large breasts for my size, a D-cup, and while they tend to protrude straight out without much sag when I’m standing, as I lay on them, they were flattened under me with a large bulge outward on each side. When I had gotten in that position, they were relatively modestly hidden by my bra, brief as it was. Now they were exposed to his eyes and I could hardly raise up to put my arms to my side to conceal them. I had always been proud of what Alan referred to as my “titanic tits,” but right then I would have given a great deal to have had my arms securely clamped to my sides!

I relaxed for a moment (the difference telling me how tense I was) as his hand left me for a moment, but he was just getting more lotion to spread on. I became rigid as his fingers approached the swell of my breast, something he had to notice. The inevitable happened as I felt his fingertips touch the base of my breast and, without hesitating, began moving in small circles over it, feeling me gently but thoroughly, even cupping it a bit. I lay there in a stupor; not thinking for my mind was on overload. That heat in my cunt grew and I just lay there with a combination of shock, arousal, embarrassment, and fear – with probably a few more unrealized sensations coursing through me. One thing that bothered me later was the realization that my main concern was that Alan not see what was happening. He was lying on my right, the side where Bob’s hand was, and if he had looked sideways at all, he would have seen his new bride having her breast, or part of it, felt without any protest! Actually, I was beyond protest, enduring something I had never had done to me before.

As I said before, I was still a virgin, but my innocence (if that is what you would call it) went a great deal further than that. I’d had a very strict upbringing, not being allowed to date through high school except at well chaperoned functions. I never had any sexual encounters and, frankly I never had wanted any, until Alan and I met in college and it was almost a full year before he felt my breasts through my clothes! Obviously, with breasts like mine, a considerable number of boys had tried to get something from me, and a few had grabbed my breasts and gotten a quick feel, but Alan was the first to explore them – certainly the first in which I cooperated and enjoyed it. Things progressed much more rapidly after that and, ultimately, he had felt and seen everything and I had become well acquainted with his cock. However, since I was still a virgin, we decided that we might as well wait a few more months to take the final step – or, as Alan described it rather indelicately, “taking my cherry!” Now, three days after being married, my “cherry” was still intact and another man was rubbing the side of my breast with my new husband right beside me.

Actually, I think having Alan right beside me added to the heat between my legs! While I certainly wasn’t thinking about that then, somehow, it seemed more erotic and a very small helping of forbidden fruit with him right there. As I said, I didn’t think of any of that then. I was just lying there with no will power to do anything – shocked, dazed, stupefied and, surprisingly, aroused. For most women, this would have been nothing, hardly worth noticing, certainly not traumatic, but, for me, a first. There certainly was no question that where his hand was wasn’t anything but my breast – there was no way that he could have mistaken that round bulge for anything else – and his fingers lingered there far longer than necessary to spread sunscreen over my skin. Oddly enough, my first reaction was not to pull away, but to glance up to see if Alan were looking toward me. Fortunately, he was not, but a flash of guilt went through me as I realized what I was doing. My mind was in a muddle as his fingers left the breast and began, again stroking my back, commenting as he did, “Boy, Nita, your skin is pure white! You’ll have a bad burn unless you have a heavy coat of this stuff on you, reapplying it often, especially if you go into the water.”

At that point, Alan looked over, adding, “I told her that yesterday, but she wants to go home with a nice tan. I warned her that she’ll be burned and get wrinkles unless she’s careful!”

“Right! It’s amazing how many women, and some men, come here and want a quick tan, and end up in agony over a deep sunburn and can’t even stand their clothes against their skin! One of the biggest sellers in the market is Solarcaine, so they love to see red tourists!

They talked as if I weren’t there so I finally broke in, saying, “Ok, I get the picture! I hate that sunscreen, but I’ll put it on! I just don’t like the greasy feel it has until it sinks in.”

“You have to rub it in, not just spread it on. That’s the trouble with sprays. And, as I said, you have to reapply it often if you are going to be right in the sun. You’ll get a nice tan, it’ll just take longer. Now, I don’t think that I put any on your other side. You don’t want a lop-sided tan!” With that comment, he began spreading the lotion along my left side, slowly moving up my ribcage toward my breast. Once again, my mind was in turmoil, wanting on the one hand to move my arm down to cover it, the other anticipating the feeling of excitement from permitting something a bit wicked. Of course, I did nothing and, inevitably, his fingers arrived at the bulge of my breast, and in a circular pattern, smoothing the cool lotion over it. The circle slowly spread until his fingers were on the outer edge of the bulge, actually going slightly under it as it was flattened against the sand. His hand stayed there far longer than was necessary to apply the sunscreen, and each time the fingers completed a circle, they pushed further underneath, each time coming closer to my nipple. I wanted to let it go on and I wanted to stop it – both at the same time – but the decision was taken out of my hands when Alan suddenly set up and said, “God, it’s hot! Let’s go in the water again.” At his first motion, Bob withdrew his hand and the moment was over and I didn’t know whether I was glad or not. I hurriedly reached back and, with difficulty, refastened my bra without exposing myself, and we ran down to the surf.

Bob followed us into the water, joining in what probably would be called “frolicking” as we jumped over and through the incoming waves. Inevitably, the playing around degenerated into a battle of pushing each other under the water with, of course, me being the victim most of the time. Each time I went under, one or the other would grab me and set me upright – and proceeded to the next dunking! This was the usual boy-girl playing around, and, as might be expected, there was a considerable amount of boy-feeling-girl play thrown in. I was continually pulled up by my boobs, each man getting a real feel as they “helped” me. I was not surprised at Alan grabbing me that way, but the first time Bob got me I was suddenly aware that Alan had to have seen Bob’s hands on my breasts, and I was, naturally, concerned about his reaction. I was quickly reassured, however, as when I went under again, he deliberately pulled me up by cupping both breasts, saying, with a laugh, “These make fine handles, Nita! You’ll never drown with men around!” Alan clearly saw that as an invitation, and his next grab was anything but surreptitious, holding each boob firmly as he lifted me completely out of the water, calling out, “Boy, you’re right! With handles like these, there’ll always be help around!” After that, I had hands all over me, several times someone touched me around the crotch under the water, but I wasn’t even able to detect whose hand it was. It was really a free-for-all, with me being in the middle – and loving it.

However, suddenly a new element was introduced. Alan began teasing me by trying to grab the tail of the bow holding my bra on and, of course, Bob soon entered into the fun, making it almost inevitable that that I would lose, if that could really be called a loss. I, frankly, was hot after all the sex play, and as I “tried” to get away, squealing frantically as I plowed my way through the water, eluding the grasping fingers. Inevitably, of course, I lost as Alan’s fingers closed on the bow ends and, suddenly, I was topless! Surprisingly, after all that exciting activity and my expectation of having my boobs bare, I had an unexpected attack of modesty. I ducked under the water and tried to find my bra, but it was gone, leaving me exposed and, irrationally, embarrassed. Blushing, I covered my breasts with my hands and struggled out of the water and ran back to our spot between the dunes, and grabbed a towel to cover myself. Of course, Alan and Bob were right behind me, laughing like school kids and pulling at the towel, trying to complete my exposure. For me, it was a very odd situation: I really was embarrassed and I really was trying to keep myself covered, but I knew I would lose and knew that I really wanted to.

Of course, that was exactly what happened. Even if I had wanted to, I never could have held out against two eager men, and shortly, the towel fell away and I made one last, futile effort to hide my breasts by putting a hand over each one. That didn’t last long as Alan reached from behind me and forced my hands away, leaving me standing with both boobs bare. I was flushed and embarrassed yet secretly thrilled as I felt two pairs of male eyes seeing what only one pair, Alan’s, had seen before. My nipples were erect hard as rocks, giving away my real arousal, as I saw a strange man’s eyes focused fixedly on my exposed breasts. I just quit struggling to cover myself and just stood there as Alan joined Bob in looking at his new wife in a totally different way. Suddenly, I felt a surge of heat go through me and, without conscious thought, straightened my shoulders and pushed my breasts out, almost flaunting them before a very appreciative audience.