Hurricane Bob Pt. 02

I had some difficulty getting hotel reservations. This was back in the Dark Ages of the 1980s, in the days before cell phones and the Internet, so I had to do things the old-fashioned way. I went to a AAA office and paid for a membership. In addition to roadside assistance, they provided members with maps and travel guides. So, I grabbed a thick book that contained information on all the major towns and cities of North and South Carolina, including restaurants, hotels, and places of interest.

I located the section on Myrtle Beach. There was a map pinpointing all of the hotels near the Pavillion and up and down the strand. I started calling them one-by-one. Since I wanted to make a good impression on Connie, I insisted on getting an ocean-front room. I was excited about having a view of the ocean and sitting outside to watch the sun come up over the Atlantic. I'd never been in a position financially to afford such a luxury. Unfortunately, none of the hotels near the center of Myrtle Beach had any rooms, let alone ones with a view.

I extended my search in both directions along the coast. Finally, I hit paydirt. The Polynesian Resort at 10th Avenue South had ocean-front rooms at reasonable rates. It sounded fantastic. I mean, after all, it was the Polynesian RESORT, not Polynesian Motel. So, I booked a mini-suite, called a Deluxe Efficiency, that had a full kitchen and a living room. I figured that way we could cook if we wanted to. Best of all, it was on the top floor.

I booked the room to arrive on Tuesday.

I made sure there were adjoining rooms and asked if I could reserve the next door for my roommate. They allowed it but said Mike would have to call within 24-hours to book. If he didn't, they would release the room, and someone else might get it. So, I immediately gave Mike the information.

"Here you go," I told him. "You need to call this number within 24-hours and book your room if you want to have the adjoining suite next to us. If you don't, someone else may get the room."

Mike took my notes and assured me he'd call right away. I then left to take Connie to Crabtree Valley Mall to look for new bikinis and other beach-appropriate clothes. When we arrived back home, Mike was gone.

Connie took the bags of new stuff into my bedroom, and I sat in the living room, sipping on a Bartles and Jaymes. Five minutes later, she came out wearing her new pink bikini, with a matching neon pink Panama Jack muscle shirt on over the top. I had on a matching white one. Muscle shirts were all the rage at the time. They were just t-shirts without sleeves and with slits cut from the armpits down to the hips so your muscles would show through. Allegedly, people wore them at Health Clubs, which I detested only slightly less than singles bars. Wham and Def Leppard had made muscle shirts famous.

She had her long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore a pair of mirror-lense sunglasses we'd picked up at the Sunglasses Hut. Her complexion had a natural tan appearance, but she'd been laying out a lot lately and had a bit of a bronzed tint that made her look super sexy against the pink.

The bottoms of the bikini could be seen beneath the muscle shirt, covering about half of her ass cheeks, and forming a little triangle in front that didn't entirely cover her bush, giving her a distinctive camel-toe. Connie had very thick pussy lips, which only made her camel-toe more pronounced.

"How do I look?" she asked as she spun around tantalizingly.

"Turn around and bend over and let me see your ass," I replied. Connie gave me a funny look, then turned away and bent over at about a 45-degree angle. As she did, her ass spread out wide, and the pink fabric stretched, then slid together into her crack, leaving most of her ass cheeks exposed.

"Well?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder.

"You look hot!" I said.

Connie smiled, straightened up, and faced me. "You have to say that, you're my boyfriend," she said, then looked past me into the kitchen. "What do you think, Mike?"

"I'd fuck you," he said, startling me. I didn't know he'd snuck in. But, there he was, standing at the bar, sipping a Coors Light.

Connie blushed but grinned.

"When did you get home?" I asked, looking perturbed.

"I never left," Mike replied. "I was out on my patio, smoking a doobie. Do you guys want a toke? I can fire it up."

"No, that's ok," I replied, speaking for both of us. I got up and took Connie by the hand and led her back into my room, closing the door.

"You may want to trim your pubes, baby," I told her. "They're sticking out the sides."

"Yeah, I plan on doing that tonight when I shower," she said, blushing. "Do you think Mike noticed?"

"No, I doubt it," I said, reassuring her. "Have you ever thought about shaving it all off?"

"No way!" Connie replied. "Nobody does that!"

"I don't know," I said, "I hear it's trendy in Brazil and Hawaii. I even saw some girls in pornos shaved down there."

"You're kidding, right?" She asked, not believing me. "I can understand trimming it when you wear a bikini, but shaving it all off? Who would want to look like a twelve-year-old?"

"I don't know, it's kind of sexy to be able to see everything," I countered. "Plus, I hate getting your hairs stuck in my throat."

"Then don't put your mouth down there, and you won't have to worry about that," Connie argued.

"No way," I said, pulling her onto the bed. "You know how much I love licking your pussy."

"You're a pervert," she said playfully.

"You don't say that when you're busy grinding your pussy on my mouth and cumming hard," I said, teasing her.

She jumped up from the bed and snapped at me, "I told you not to talk about sex stuff like that! I don't want to hear about it!"

"Oh, come on, Connie," I said. "It's ok to talk about sex. How will we know how to make each other happy if we can't talk about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" She snapped.

"So, you don't mind doing it," I replied. "You just don't want to talk about it?"

"If you keep talking about it, I'm not going to let you do it anymore."

"Don't you think that's a little weird?"

"No, you're the weirdo," she said, pointing at me. "You're the one always wanting to be dirty. I told you, I don't want to do nothing until we get married."

"There's nothing wrong with sex," I said, trying to soothe her.

"Sex is a sin!" She snapped. "I have to go to confession and tell my priest what you make me do!"

Her accent was coming out. That happened when she got mad.

"Ok, ok!" I said, giving in. "I won't talk about sex anymore."

"And don't ever ask me to shave down there again! It's disgusting. I'm not a puta! You want a puta, go down to Six Forks Road. They hang out on the corners."

"Sorry!" I said, trying to pull her back into a hug. She pushed me away.

"I'm going home," she said. "I think maybe you need to think about your perverted ways and try to ask Jesus to forgive you." She pulled on her jeans and grabbed all her stuff, then stormed out of the condo.

I came back out to find Mike drinking my last Bartles and Jaymes. "These things aren't bad," he said.

"That was the last one!" I snapped.

"Sorry, bro," he replied. "You can grab one of my beers."

I opened the refrigerator. There weren't any beers.

"They're all gone!"

"Oh, shit, sorry, dude."

"Did you call the Polynesian and book the room next to us?" I asked as I grabbed my keys to make a run to Krogers and get more wine coolers, some Doritos, and a big container of queso cheese dip.

"Yeah, I took care of it," Mike replied. "We're all set."

Chapter 3

Connie and I arrived at the hotel around lunchtime. I didn't think we would be able to check-in so early but stopped by the hotel just to chance it. We were in luck, and the room was available. Unfortunately, the hotel wasn't all that fancy. It looked like an old cinder block construction from back in the 1950s or 60s. It was one level above run-down, but the fresh coat of blue-gray paint helped, even though it looked like they just painted over everything without any prep. It wouldn't have surprised me to find cockroaches painted onto the walls. However, it did have a small bar on the first floor and served drinks poolside.

We grabbed our bags out of the Porsche and took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. The suite turned out to be just a slightly larger room with a sleeper sofa, a single chair, and a small kitchenette in the back. The kitchen had a full-sized refrigerator, stove, oven, and microwave. There was also a blender for making frozen cocktails.

The balcony was large and held four chairs and two side tables. Thankfully, the terrace faced directly out over the ocean and the beachside pool. We decided to head down and check out the pool, beach, and bar, then go for a walk around the neighborhood to see what was nearby. We were both hungry, so we would grab lunch while out. Neither of us wanted to wait around for Mike and Jackie to arrive. We would see them when we saw them.

Connie was wearing the pink bikini and muscle shirt again, and added a very short pair of cutoff levis and flip flops, or, as we called them back then, thongs. We splashed on some Hawaiian Tropics Dark Tanning Oil, that smelled of coconuts and pineapple, and provided 0 SPF. I'm not sure if we even knew what SPF were back then. As we headed to the elevator, an older man was unlocking the door next to us.

I curiously watched as he went into the room that adjoined ours.

"Hmmm," I said. "I hope that guy is checking out today."

"Why?" Connie asked, taking my hand as we waited for the elevator.

"Because, that's the room Mike and Jackie booked," I explained. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my gut as we got in the elevator.

"We have plenty of room in our suite," Connie stated. "If something's wrong with the reservation, they can stay with us."

"Uh, no," I said flatly. I planned on having sex with Connie during this trip, in some form, and didn't want anybody to cockblock me.

The pool was small and rectangular, with a separate built-in hot tub that looked to seat maybe ten people. There were about twenty people around and in the pool, with about half the loungers taken. At the far end of the patio, there was a small bandstand. A steel drum band was playing some reggae tunes. Next to the bandstand was a small, walk-up Tiki bar.

We sat at the bar and ordered Pina Coladas, which came in pretty, decorative glasses with colorful umbrellas, a hibiscus blossom, and tropical fruit. The drinks were delicious, and we finished them quickly before walking down the stairs to the beach. It must have been close to low tide as the waves were far out, leaving a wide expanse of and for walking on. Unlike the beaches in North Carolina, there weren't any barrier sand dunes here; the hotel was right on the beach.

The first hundred yards or so was loose white sand that was scorching hot on my bare feet. I'd mistakenly left my flip-flops upstairs, so I had to hot-foot it across the sand. Once you reached the smooth sand, it was cooler to the touch, and I could walk comfortably. Connie and I walked out into the ocean and waded in up to our thighs.

I tried to pull her in, but she didn't want to get her shorts wet. The waves were very gentle. We could see bigger ones out farther, but they seemed to die down by the time they reached us. We walked along, hand-in-hand enjoying the natural beauty and the quiet. I was falling for her, but at the same time, I was very cautious. My previous relationship had ended very badly, and I wasn't ready to commit again so soon.

I tugged on Connie's hand and pulled her to me. I kissed her passionately, and she didn't resist. She seemed to melt into my embrace, and our tongues caressed each other lovingly for some time. When I finally pulled away, she was out of breath and smiled.

"I like how you kiss me," she said.

"I like kissing you," I replied.

"When other guys kiss me, I can tell," she explained, "they only do it to try to get to the next level. When you kiss me, I can feel your heart, and it makes me trust you more and more."

That would have been the perfect time to tell her I loved her. Instead, I said, "I want you to trust me."

She hugged me, and over the sound of the ocean, I heard her speaking, almost in a whisper, "Then, don't break my heart."

We walked north along the beach, passing hotel after hotel, the occasional house, and a pier until we came upon a beachfront bar. We went in and grabbed a table by the railing. We had lunch and a couple of drinks each.

After lunch, we stopped into a souvenir shop, and I bought her a Myrtle Beach snow globe, and a rubber beer cover for me shaped like a buxom girl in a bikini. After eating, we went inland, and I realized we'd reached the Pavillion.

"Have you ever been here?" I asked.

"No, this is my first time to go to the ocean," she explained.

"No, kidding?" I asked. "Ever?"

"Yeah, my parents never took us," she explained.

"Wow! Well, we should celebrate!" I declared.

So, we spent the next couple of hours riding rides and acting like kids. We got some French fries and an Orange Julius. Fortunately, these were herpes-free, and we didn't run into anyone I knew. It was getting late in the afternoon, so we headed back to the hotel. I hadn't realized just how far it was, and the walk back to the Polynesian seemed to take three times as long as the walk down. By the time we arrived, we were both tired.

We went up to the room, and there was no sign of Mike and Jackie. I opened the adjoining door only to find another door on the other side. I guess that made sense, but I'd never used adjoining doors before. I knocked on the inner door. I could hear someone moving around inside.

I knocked again, and the door opened. The older man from earlier was standing there, naked with his boner sticking out. A woman, who I assumed was his wife, was naked on the bed, legs spread as if he had just been fucking her.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What do you want?"

He eyed me then saw Connie and stared lustfully at her. He made no effort to conceal his nudity.

"You two want to join us?" he asked.

Connie shrieked and ran to the bathroom.

"Uh, sorry to bother you," I stammered. "My friends are supposed to be staying in that room today."

"No, we have this room booked for the next ten days," the man said.

"Oh," I replied. As I stood there, the woman on the bed smiled at me and started rubbing her pussy. "Uh, sorry to interrupt."

I closed the door and locked it securely. I found Connie in the bathroom, and we stared at each other in shock then started laughing uncontrollably. I pulled her to me and kissed her hard. She didn't resist.

I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I laid down next to her and started kissing my way down her body. Connie moaned and ran her hands through my hair. When my mouth reached her breasts, she inhaled deeply and raised her breasts, offering them to me. I pulled the t-shirt up and kissed the exposed portions of her firm mounds. She moaned and reached over to rub my cock through my board shorts. I was already fully erect.

I grabbed the bikini top and raised it until her breasts popped free. I immediately wrapped my lips around a nipple and began to suck on it, running my tongue all around the hard little tip. She grabbed my hair in her hands and pulled my head to her chest. I sucked harder, drawing more of the meaty boob into my mouth. My free hand traced down her body, the fingertips lightly brushing the skin on her belly.

When my fingers reached her bikini bottoms, I expected her to grab my wrist and pull my hand away, but she didn't. Instead, she spread her legs and moaned louder. I took it as an open invitation and rubbed my hand over her mound, feeling her pussy through the pink cloth. Her swollen labia created a crease that was damp in the middle. I slid my finger up and down in the gap, then felt the hard little nub at the top and rubbed it.

Connie's hips jumped, and she started to undo my shorts, ripping the velcro fastener open and pulling out my cock. She stroked it rapidly as I kissed down her body, lying next to her. I rubbed my face against her crotch, and she cried out, her body trembling. I felt her mouth close down around my cock as she hungrily sucked it. Connie rarely sucked me without me asking for it, so I was genuinely being blown away.

I pulled her bikini bottoms to the side and stared, in shock, at a nearly wholly shaved pussy. There was a small, narrow strip of very short hair just above her clit, about an inch wide and three inches tall. I kissed her pussy lips and mouthed at them with my lips, sucking one into my mouth to massage. Connie sucked me deeply and made a deep, groaning sound.

I slid my tongue out and licked her clit. Her hips jumped, and she whimpered, my cock still in her mouth. She was sucking me so aggressively that I was afraid I couldn't last long. I sucked on her clit and began lapping at it rapidly, determined to get her off first. It distracted her, and she stopped moving her mouth, hips thrusting wildly into my face.

Just then, there came a series of three loud bangs on the front door to our room. I tried to ignore them. Connie was so close to cumming.

Again, three more bangs.

Fuck.

Three more bangs sounded out, even louder, and I jumped up from the bed, shoved my cock back in my shorts and ran to the door, throwing it open.

"What?" I shouted.

Mike and Jackie stood there, surrounded by their luggage.

"Blob, heh-heh-heh," said Mike with a strange grin on his face. "We have a problem."

"Problem?" I asked, trying to bend over so that my boner wasn't so obvious. I heard Connie approaching from behind.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"We don't have a room!" Jackie shouted. "They bumped us!"

"They what?" I asked. I stood there, not believing what I was hearing.

Connie pushed me aside, "Come in! Come in! We can talk in here. Now, what's going on?"

Mike and Jackie picked up their luggage and walked past me into the suite.

"Woah, nice digs, dude," Mike called out.

"So, when we got here, they said they didn't have a record of our reservation," Jackie explained. "It showed where you had originally reserved the room, but they tried to say Mike never actually booked the room."

I felt my anger starting to rise. "Well, did you book the room, Mike?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, as he opened the fridge and found the beers I'd brought. He grabbed one, opened it, and took a big swig. I was staring daggers into him.

"What?" he asked. "Oh, want a beer, anybody?" When nobody wanted one, he closed the refrigerator and plopped down on the bed on which Connie and I had just been making out.

"So? What happened?" I demanded.

"Well," Mike said, "I did what you told me, Bob. I called and booked the room. But, when we got here, they said they had no record of it."

"Did you give them the confirmation number?"

"What confirmation number?"

"The one they gave you when you booked the room?"

"Oh, uh, no," Mike said, his smile cracking. "I forgot to write it down."

"Did you really book the room?" I was getting increasingly pissed.

"Yeah, of course," he said. "Somebody screwed up. You must have given me the wrong information."

"Wait," I shouted. "Are you blaming me?"

"Well, you are the one who booked the rooms, to begin with," he said.

I looked at Connie and Jackie, but they were of no help.

"You seriously are trying to make this my fault?"

Mike shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Duh."

"So, what are we going to do?" Jackie asked rhetorically.

"You need to go find another hotel with rooms available," I suggested. "You should hurry, though, it's getting late, and most places along the beach are already booked up, maybe if you go off the beach a block or two. I think I saw some vacancy signs while we were walking back from the Pavillion."