My Wet Hot... Spring Break Pt. 01

Author's Note & Disclaimer: This is my first attempt at a first person narrative. This story contains graphic depictions of sexual activity and is intended to be read only by adults of legal age in legal contexts. All characters depicted in the story are over 18. Copyright 2021, Quiver. All rights reserved.

"Necessito Acabar": My Wet Hot Mexican Spring Break

It was my senior year of high school, spring break, and I was sitting in my seat preparing myself for my first flight south of the border. A lot of firsts were going to happen this spring break, actually.

My varsity soccer team had qualified for an international invitational tournament in Mexico, and it happened to coincide with our school's spring break, which meant that we were going to get to spend an entire week living it up in Campeche, on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. And, with the approval of the wealthy parents of our private school, our coach had booked the entire varsity team's flight and hotel in one big group.

Most of my teammates had been to Mexico during spring break before, sometimes even without a parental chaperon. But not me. Slated to be valedictorian of our small private school, I had spent every previous spring break prepping for SAT tests or volunteering at a food bank to pad my college resume. It was a miracle that my parents even let me go on this trip, despite the fact that I'd already been accepted to Stanford for the following year.

Or at least, it was a partial miracle. Because, unlike the rest my teammates' parents, my parents couldn't bear to let their little golden child out of their sight for even a week. So, I got to be the eighteen year old virgin loser whose parents were tagging along on the spring break trip. Yay.

Whatever, at least they had the decency to sit a few rows behind me so I didn't have to associate with them every second of the flight. I had been assigned a window seat next to two of my teammates, Jessie and Kaitlyn. I liked Jessie alright -- she was outgoing and funny. Pretty too, with her reddish curly hair and freckles. Life of the party type, but still kind. Jessie was our sweeper. You have to be pretty loud to do that job. Kaitlyn wasn't as outgoing as Jessie, or as funny, but she was still very much the popular type. Long bleached blonde hair, tall and shapely. I didn't know Kaitlyn as well off the field, but she and I played well together as dual center midfielders and I liked her well enough.

The two of them were already busy giggling about the cute flight attendant, leaving me alone with my nose in a book.

So here I was, seat in its upright and locked position, ready for takeoff.

The flight went pretty smoothly. It was hard to get much reading done with my teammates gossiping the entire time, and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a little. I got to learn a bit about who had a crush on which boy, and what kinds of crazy shit happened at last week's party, all of that. As the smart kid on the team, it was sometimes hard to break into the group dynamic. My teammates were never rude to me or anything but I still had never really felt like I was part of their social group, and I certainly didn't have the time to socialize outside of practice. It was clear that they didn't quite know how to interact with me either. But all of that stuff seemed to fall away when we were on the field together. Playing soccer was one of the only times I ever felt like I really belonged anywhere. And it let me get out from under my parents' thumbs, which was another plus.

"--hello? Earth to Quinn!" Jessie's voice cut through my drifting thoughts.

"Oh, what?" I responded, looking up and focusing on what Jessie had said to me.

"I said, what are you doing reading a book when we're on spring break?" Jessie said with a playful nudge. "You're going to have to come out of that shell eventually."

"Hah, yeah," I said, noncommittally.

"Did you hear what we were talking about earlier, about going out tonight? They basically have no drinking age in Mexico," Jessie said, clearly making an effort to include me.

"Oh, um, no, I don't think so," I said in my usual quiet way. "I'm kind of tired... I'll probably just find my hotel room and go to bed. Plus my parents are here..." I let my voice drift off in an attempt to get Jessie to drop the subject.

"Rejecting the invitation before it's even offered! Bold move!" Jessie said with an easy smile. "I'm not giving up that easy, Vernon. You're going to have some fun this week whether you like it or not!"

Feeling uncomfortable with so much attention, I smiled back and gave a half-hearted laugh as I replied, "Okay, haha" with a shy smile.

"Dude, I don't know how it's possible for you to be such a beast on the field when you're such a meek little mouse the rest of the time," Jessie pushed.

"I'm not that meek," I protested, feeling a bit attacked. "I just have other interests."

"Yeah, sure," Jessie replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Your parents have other interests, you mean."

I fell silent at that, feeling the sting of truth in her words.

Jessie noticed my change in demeanor and stopped pushing so hard. She turned to Kaitlyn on her other side and said, "Quinn's coming out with us tonight, cool?"

Kaitlyn's eyebrows raised just a bit, but her tone was light. "Yeah, of course. Stick with us, Virgin -- we'll show you how it's done," she replied in a teasing voice. Ugh, that nickname. It had stuck to me before the kids at school even knew what it meant. It wasn't even very original, it just vaguely resembled my last name.

"Not for long if we can help it!" Jessie quipped back, winking at me as she did so, which took some of the sting out of the nickname. I smiled at her, a twinge of excitement creeping through my body as it occurred to me that I might actually be going out drinking tonight.

When we landed at the Campeche airport, our coach and parent chaperons gathered the team up to find our luggage before we filed into our reserved bus that would take us to our hotel. It turned out that our hotel was actually a beautiful Hacienda, located roughly equidistant from the beach and one of the bigger city markets. It was absolutely gorgeous.

The team waited out front while the adults checked us all into our rooms. Unfortunately, my parents being who they are, they had insisted on booking my reservation separately from the rest of the team, under the pretense that "I would get better sleep if I didn't have to share a room".

So, I watched as my teammates planned out their sleeping arrangements in their groups of four, while I stood with my parents. So much for a team bonding experience.

After a few minutes of everyone getting settled, I noticed that Jessie, Kaitlyn and our goalkeeper, Roach, were talking together and seemed to be looking at me. I cocked my head at Jessie, trying to figure out what they were saying, and Jessie noticed and waved me over.

"Hey Quinn, we have an extra spot in our room. Why don't you stay with us?" she said when I got close. My heart skipped a beat at the thought. It would be nice to be able to hang out with my teammates instead of having to stay with my parents all week. I never seemed to get to be part of the group. My mom had always made sure of that. There was always some reason, some excuse, that I needed to leave early, or have my own room, or eat some special kind of lunch away from the other kids. Always for my own good, of course. But it meant that I just never really felt like I belonged.

Thank god for Jessie, though. She really did seem to want me around, and it was nice to feel that way for once.

"Um..." I started to respond with a smile, "yeah, that sounds cool!" As soon as the answer escaped my lips, I heard my mother's voice behind me as she lightly grabbed my wrist to turn me back around.

"Quinn, I don't think it's a good idea for you to share a room before the tournament," she started. Her fun-radar was honestly astounding. How had she even heard Jessie ask me? "You're such a light sleeper, and you really need your rest before the game tomorrow morning. And we got a suite so that you'll have your own room, your own bed, everything you need," she continued quietly, but firmly.

"But--" I started to object.

"No buts," my mom cut me off. "You know how important it is to keep your stats up. Stanford is still watching you, and any slip in your standing could keep you off the team next year."

I nodded in agreement. It was pointless to argue with her. She had an answer for everything.

My mom noticed the surrender in my body language and perked up a bit. "But how about this," she continued with a magnanimous smile. "You stay in the suite with your dad and me until the end of the tournament. And after you win, you can have a slumber party the last few days with your little friends. They can even come to our suite and we'll make virgin margaritas to celebrate!"

"Yeah, okay," I replied in defeat. It was hard to be frustrated with her when she always went above and beyond to give me everything I could possibly need. My mom nodded at me in approval and turned to Jessie and the others.

"Did you ladies hear that?" my mom asked them. "Quinn is going to stay in her own room with us until after the tournament is over. But she can join you all in your room later in the week."

Kaitlyn and Roach looked at me with a mix of pity and annoyance, but Jessie didn't seem fazed. "Sounds good, Mrs. Vernon," she replied. "Quinn's so lucky to have a mom that looks out for her so much," she said without a hint of sarcasm. But as Jessie turned back toward Kaitlyn and Roach, she gave me a subtle nod of solidarity.

As the evening wrapped up, I followed my parents to our suite and diligently got ready for bed, sure that my teammates were already out having a blast while I stood there brushing my teeth.

Saturday was a whirlwind. We had a double-header for the first round of the tournament, and ended up winning both games, despite the fact that around half of our players seemed to be hung over. I was on fire, though. Scored in both games, plus a couple of assists. And inevitably, after our two awesome games, we went out for dinner as a team. And equally inevitably, my parents tagged along and pulled me away just as my teammates were getting ready for another night on the town.

So, with aching envy in my heart, I walked back to the hotel once again alongside my parents. Thankfully, we weren't scheduled for a game on Sunday, so maybe I'd get to explore Campeche a bit more. Maybe even escape the never-ceasing watchfulness of my mom.

The next morning, after having missed out on the festivities the past two nights, I was feeling a really strong urge to do something extreme. Thankfully, the market was relatively nearby, and my parents were fully supportive of me going out and practicing my Spanish among the locals during daylight hours. So, around 10:30, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, I grabbed my bag, impulsively throwing halter top and a jean mini skirt inside, and informed my parents that I wanted to go explore the market while my teammates were still asleep.

"Wonderful idea, Quinn," my mom replied, beaming with pride. "You should pick up some souvenirs to give your teachers when you get back to school. And probably something for your grandmother too. She'd love to know you were thinking of her," she continued, not recognizing the irony that now I'd be buying those gifts out of obligation and not my own desire.

"But make sure you're back by five o'clock!" she added. "Your dad and I made a reservation at a fancy restaurant. You can bring one of your friends if you want! Our treat!"

"Okay," I replied, not having the energy to argue with her. It would be nice to be able to spend some time as part of the team, but it just wasn't going to happen with Mom around.

"Mary-Ellen," my dad chimed in carefully from their bedroom. "Maybe Quinn should join her teammates for their dinner instead. They have a lot to celebrate, and she doesn't get the chance to spend much time with them during the semester, with all of the studying she does."

My mom pursed her lips at that suggestion, but ultimately seemed to decide against fighting about it. "If that's what she wants to do," she replied. Turning back toward me, she repeated, "Either way, be back by five o'clock. It can be dangerous to be in the city by yourself in the evening. And your Spanish really isn't where it needs to be to get around properly."

"Yep," I replied, avoiding eye contact in the hope that she wouldn't find something else to say before I could escape.

Making brief eye contact with my dad as a silent thanks for coming to my rescue, I darted out of the hotel room and quickly speed-walked to the front of the hotel.

Finally free and on my own, I slowed my pace a bit. What should I do? I could do anything at this point. There was no one with me, no one watching over my shoulder or following me. It was just me, in a foreign city, with a passport and some cash. And some slutty clothes tucked away, for some reason. No way was I going to spend this brief moment of freedom buying souvenirs for my teachers. I was going to do something fun.

Continuing to walk toward the city center, my thoughts started to race while I imagined the possibilities. Where should I go? I knew one thing: I wanted to find myself some alcohol.

So, not really knowing the procedure for finding alcohol in a random Mexican city, I sat down at a nearby restaurant to get my bearings and check out their menu. Seeing the words "piña colada", I decided to go for it. I was easily over the drinking age in Mexico, but the waiter didn't even think to card me when I ordered. I waited the five minutes it took for my frozen drink to arrive, growing more excited by the moment.

When the waiter finally returned with my drink, I sat there with my drink in hand, basking in the freedom it represented. It wasn't much of a rebellion, but it was mine. And I was going to fucking enjoy it.

I sipped the sugary drink slowly from my newfound place of agency and watched the pedestrians outside. I felt like an adult for the first time in my life. All because I had ordered a piña colada by myself.

I stayed at the restaurant for lunch, ordering a few more piña coladas and some food. But as I ate my lunch, a deeper itch started to form in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't enough. I wanted something more. I wanted to experience something. I wanted risk. Alcohol wasn't going to cut it. Tingling with a sense of urgency and discomfort, I quickly paid for my meal, and before I left the restaurant, I took a trip to the bathroom and changed into my floral halter top and mini skirt. I let my hair down from its usual ponytail, flipping my sun-bleached locks to frame my face in the mirror. Finally feeling ready to take on the world, I left the restaurant, searching for something to satisfy this growing need within me.

Finally, it hit me. I was a young American teenager surrounded by men who felt perfectly fine whistling at me and grabbing their crotches as I walked by. Surely, I could find someone moderately attractive to hang out with. Maybe I could even kiss someone. My mind started to wander, imagining the possibilities, and realizing that the tingling sensation was starting to cluster between my legs. I suddenly found myself wondering if I would be able to find the word for "condom" in my pocket Spanish dictionary. I could feel my face flush as more and more scandalous thoughts whisked through my teenage mind.

Finally, being sure to pay attention to my surroundings, I found a seedy-looking bar. Now certain of what I wanted, I hatched a plan. I ordered a beer from the bartender and started sipping on it. Slowly. I didn't want to actually get drunk. I just wanted it to look like I might be drunk. Sitting in my jean mini skirt, my tanned, toned legs crossed in front of me, I scoured the bar for a potential target.

Knowing what I wanted gave me a sense of power I had never experienced before. It was exhilarating. I felt this sense of certainty that I could have any man I wanted. And I was going to.

After a few minutes, I noticed a group of three young men enter the bar. It was hard to tell how old they were, but my guess was mid-twenties. They were good looking, though nothing spectacular. Though one of them in particular, the middle one, looked intriguing. He had those deep, penetrating eyes, and a hint of dangerous appeal. A minuscule grin started to form at the edge of my mouth as my eyes narrowed with decisiveness.

It briefly occurred to me that they might not be interested. But I was too far gone to let that thought take root. I was high on adrenaline, along with being ever so slightly tipsy. And it was going to stay that way. I wanted to savor and remember every second of today.

So I simply watched the three of them take a seat at a nearby table, chatting together in Spanish, much faster than I was able to parse. And instead of averting my eyes and shrinking into myself as I would have done in the past, I let myself keep my gaze steady and directed. There was no mistaking that I was looking at them. Or the way I was looking at them. And within a few seconds, they were looking back.

The middle guy noticed me first. His eyes locked with mine, and instead of looking away, I tilted my head ever so slightly and cocked my eyebrow with a confidence that was only partially feigned. I lifted my bottle of beer to my lips and took a tiny sip, never letting my eyes leave his. The other two were quick to follow his line of sight, and suddenly I was the center of attention.

After no time at all, the three of them seemed to come to a collective decision, as they stood up and walked over to my table. They asked if they could sit with me, and of course, careful to remain nonchalant, I said yes.

What followed was about twenty minutes of very light conversation in my mediocre, broken Spanish. They asked me how old I was, and when I said I was eighteen they were quick to indicate that they were also eighteen. I had my doubts -- they definitely seemed older than that to me--but it didn't really matter. They asked me why I was here, and I told them about the soccer tournament. They asked where my friends were, and I told them they were still asleep at the hotel. And that I wanted to see the city by myself. I wanted to have fun. Did they know of anywhere we could have fun?

I quickly learned their names. Santiago was the good looking, stoic quiet one with the penetrating eyes. Then there was Diego, also good looking, and Carlos, not really my type but very talkative. They bought me another beer, and I sipped on it, careful to stay alert and in control. Eventually, they tried to buy me yet another beer, but I really didn't want to be impaired, so I declined, claiming that I was already too drunk. It was a lie, but I could tell that the idea excited them, and they accepted it without question. I even caught them exchange a couple of knowing glances afterward.

Since I had declined their offer of another drink, they finally asked if I wanted them to show me around the city. So we ended up walking back through the market, and we found a seat on a park bench near the fountain. I made sure that I was seated next to Santiago, but I still wasn't sure he was the one I wanted. Honestly, being the center of attention of all three guys was intoxicating enough as it was.

But the conversation quickly ran up against the limits of my Spanish abilities, and I started to get bored. Finding a burst of bravery, I leaned over to Santiago and quietly whispered to him, "Quieres ir a otro lugar?" which probably wasn't the most natural way of asking if he wanted to go somewhere else, but it certainly got my point across.