Too Close for Comfort B

"Leave her alone!" said a voice from behind me. The Mexican guy shrugged his shoulders and went inside the shack. I noticed a look of fear on his rugged face

I turned and noticed a big Jamaican man beside me. I had seen him before. He worked at the hotel. He was a lifeguard at one of the hotel's pools. I was so shaken up that I was no longer drunk.

As I thought of what to say, I noticed another man slipping inside of the shack.

"Thanks," I said. He smiled and nodded. Around us, the sounds of dancing and singing and screaming grew louder and wilder. I was caught between asking him to walk me back to the hotel and trying to get Mary to come out of the shack and walk back with me herself.

I decided the smartest thing would be to get Mary. I headed towards the shack and the Jamaican man moved quickly. He inserted himself between me and the steps to the ramshackle little hut.

"You don't want to do that," he said. "Trust me; you should wait for her out here."

"I'll take my chances," I said. I stepped around him and stepped onto the porch. I pushed the door open and stepped into to the one room shack.

Mary was there. I could hear her moans which told my brain what was going on. Mary was surrounded by men. There were white men, obviously tourists, or maybe men that worked in the area and several Jamaicans too. She had a dick in her mouth and one in each hand. There was a man behind her fucking her with the biggest dick I had ever seen. Two more men were in front of her one rubbing her stomach and breasts while the other rubbed her pussy. I realized then that the man behind her had his penis in her ass.

The man that had been rubbing her pussy bent his knees and lined up before impaling her from the front. It was surreal. I was shocked. From across the room a Mexican man was taking his clothes off and another man, a balding white tourist that I recognized as part of our group both locked their eyes on me. Before they could come to me, as I stood there too shocked to move, my friend grabbed me from behind and pulled me out of the shack.

"I tried to warn you," he said softly. I needed to breathe. The scene I had just witnessed had shocked me to the core.

I'm not anyone's description of a virgin. I'm forty years old and have given birth to two children. My husband and I had a very active and very imaginative sex life. Mary wasn't doing anything that I hadn't ever done, but it was just the thought of doing it with so many men at the same time. And they were just pounding away at her. They didn't care if they hurt her. She obviously meant nothing to them.

But at the same time, Mary loved it. She was fucking them back just as vigorously as they were giving it to her. Her screams and moans told the story. I would never be able to look at Mary the same way again.

The man next to me handed me a bottle. It was a very strong spirit. It started my head to swirling again and helped me to forget what I had just seen.

"How did you know?" I asked as I took another sip.

"She does it every night," he said. "At least for the past three nights. Usually she gets here later. Sometimes she does as many as ten or twelve. There were only about eight in there when you looked but it's early. She usually stays for three or four hours and then hurries back to the hotel. Some of my friends told me about it after the first night."

"But she's..." I began.

"Not hurting anyone," he said. "And she's here of her own free will. The men there will make sure no one hurts her. They don't want to do anything to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs."

As we sat there drinking, I grew more and more relaxed. So relaxed that when he handed me the biggest joint I had ever seen, I puffed it. I hadn't smoked since my college days and it was far stronger than anything I'd ever had.

Most of what happened was a blur after that. I woke up with Mary slapping me awake.

My head hurt. My mouth tasted like the inside of a sewer and that wasn't the half of it.

"I didn't think you had it in you," smiled Mary. "Until I saw it in you."

"Mary, stop it," I said groggily. "Don't touch me. Who knows where your hands have been."

She just laughed. I was pissed. "You're a whore," I spat. "You let all of those men fuck you."

"What do you think you were doing with that Jamaican guy when I came out of the hut," she laughed. "I waited for you to make sure you got back okay."

"Stop lying," I said. "You're just trying to get me to share the blame with you. You want me to be a whore because you are."

"Dahlia, I'm a single woman with a very high sex drive," she said. "I like to fuck. I like to fuck a lot. It's why I've never been married. I have no children and no man at home waiting for me. I can do whatever the fuck I want. If anyone around here is a whore, it would be you. How many times have you returned your husband's calls since you got here? That poor man was practically in tears at the airport and you're here fucking a Jamaican guy right out in the open. You weren't even smart enough to do it inside where no one could see you."

My stomach suddenly felt as if someone had punched me in it. She just shook her head. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out her phone.

"I thought you might want a souvenir for your old age. Or maybe if your perfect marriage falls apart you could use it for revenge," she said.

She handed me the phone and it showed two people having sex. A large muscular powerfully built Jamaican man and a smaller slim but flabby, white woman thrusting her pelvis against him as hard as she could.

The camera got closer and focused on the face of the woman. It was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning and the face was free of regret and clearly enjoying itself.

I threw up. I felt as if a huge hand just reached out of the sky, grabbed me around my waist and squeezed everything in my stomach out onto the sand.

"Nooooooo!" I screamed. "I was drunk. I was high."

"It doesn't matter," said Mary. "Shit, I took the video FOR YOU. I already told you that. I thought you might want the memory. I have lots of videos of myself. I won't have this body forever. In ten years I'll probably be built like you. Plus there's always the fact that when you break up with a guy, the best way to hurt him, is to show him a video of you fucking someone else and really getting into it. You can tell him that he NEVER made you cum like that. It just destroys them."

"Delete it," I screamed. "Please Mary, delete it now!"

"Okay, calm down," she said. "You didn't kill anybody. You didn't start a war or destroy anything. As near as I can tell all you did was made one guy really happy."

"Mary please, don't tell anyone," I begged.

"Calm down Dahlia," she said. "What happens in Jamaica stays in Jamaica. You keep my secret and I'll keep yours."

We turned and started walking towards the hotel. I felt miserable. My ass and pussy were both throbbing and not in a good way. I felt as if I'd been torn down there.

The worst possible thing about it was the ache in my heart. I kept thinking that as soon as Grant saw me, he would know. He'd notice something was different about me and I wouldn't be able to hide it.

We got back to the hotel without further incident. We slipped into the room without waking Glenda and I got into the shower. Luckily our suite had two bathrooms because I stayed in the shower long after Mary had finished and gone to sleep. I kept thinking if I stayed under the water long enough, I could actually get clean. But I had no such luck.

Glenda woke me up at the normal time but I felt as if I hadn't been to sleep at all. "You look awful," she said. "Maybe you shouldn't drink so much."

I looked across the room to where Mary stood. She looked as fresh as a daisy. As she'd said, she had no guilt to burden her.

We went to breakfast but I found that I couldn't eat. I tried to call home but only got the answering machine. Then I remembered that life had gone on and even though I wasn't there, Grant had gone to work and our girls would be in school.

I left a message telling him how much I missed him. And that I would be the first one off of the plane.

We went to the beach as usual and I fell asleep in a lounge chair under and umbrella while Glenda read her book and played scrabble. Mary spent her time people watching as usual. But as I watched her I realized that all along, she'd been planning and setting up her nocturnal activities.

She must've done that on the first three days as well. She would watch the beach until she found exactly the type of man she was looking for. It didn't matter if they were married or single, young or old. Once she found one she'd get up, and amble over to them. She would exchange a few words and come right back to us. It never took more than two minutes.

Glenda and I had no idea what she'd been up to. It no longer mattered to me what she did. We had our pact. I'd keep her secret and she would keep mine.

"Dahlia what's wrong with your hand?" asked Glenda, looking up from her book.

"Nothing," I said. "I guess that I'm just not used to being without Grant. Whenever I feel funny or shitty, I'm used to having his hand to hold onto. I want to go home. I'm never letting my husband out of my sight again. Coming here was a mistake. Even when we go out to see the sights, I'm not really enjoying anything because I keep thinking that it would be so much better if Grant was here."

"Well you're certainly lucky to have him," said Glenda. "He's definitely attractive. And he's so nice too. That's why I wanted you to watch what you were doing last night. It would be a shame for you to lose a man like that. I don't think you'd find another one like him."

At once terror clutched my heart. All I saw before me was an image of myself alone. I vowed that it would never happen. When we left Jamaica, the only person who would know what had happened was Mary and I would kill her if I had to.

A bit later in the afternoon, we were just about to go back to the hotel to catch a tour going to an exhibit of local art, when a big Jamaican woman came to speak to me.

"You will not go on the tour with your friends," she said. "You are to stay in your room. You can say that you are not feeling well, or that you need to rest."

"Why would I do that?" I asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"I have no idea," she said. "I am doing this to repay a debt. I was told to give you the message. I was also told that if you asked any questions, I was to tell you to remember last night. I have no idea what any of it means." Then she simply walked away.

Glenda came over to me and asked what the woman had wanted.

"She works in that souvenir shop that I was telling you about," I lied. "We were talking about the T-shirts. I wanted to get T-shirts for the girls."

When we got back to the hotel. I lay down on my bed. "Hey come on sleepy head," said Mary. "We've only got half of today left and then tomorrow. After that we're going back to working our asses off and our boring normal lives."

"I miss my boring normal life," I said. "I'm tired, I think I'm going to catch a nap and meet you guys when you get back here after the tour."

"You do look kind of out of it," said Glenda, with a note of concern in her voice.

After they left, I began to worry. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I knew who the message was from, but I wonder what he wanted.

I didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes of my roommates leaving, he knocked on the door.

I opened the door and he quickly stepped inside. I remembered his features from before everything went fuzzy. Seeing him brought some of it back. The drink he had given me had calmed my nerves after the other man had tried to drag me into something I didn't want to do. Seeing Mary in action had shocked me even more.

Obviously the liquor had been stronger than I thought. I remembered smoking a really strong form of marijuana as well. That had been a mistake. I had smoked weed only a few times in college and even then, it went straight to my pussy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. He crossed the room and opened the blinds widely. He tapped the side of the plant on the desk. His presence overwhelmed me. He seemed to be so strong. Even in his hotel uniform, he seemed almost too primal to be trapped in the clothes.

He smiled at me as if he could read my thoughts.

"F-F-fine," I said. He moved even closer to me. He didn't make any sudden movements. He moved very slowly. He reached out one huge hand and I just watched it as it got closer to me.

I gasped as the hand cupped my vagina through my shorts. My mind cried out about how wrong it was, but for some reason I said nothing. He leaned over and kissed me. At first the kiss was gentle. But it grew more insistent by the second.

The hand rubbing my pussy stopped and I groaned in protest. But the hand, joined by the other pulled my shorts and panties down around my ankles. Then the hand resumed its exploration.

I spread my legs giving him better access. He pushed one finger inside of me. I had already begun gushing vaginal lubricants in preparation for what was about to happen. He pushed my purse off of the bed and onto the floor. Then he pushed me down onto the bed. He pulled his pants down revealing a monster of a penis.

I knew then, why I had been so sore this morning. I shuddered at the thought of him pushing that monster inside of me. But at the same time I knew there was no way it wasn't going to happen.

He crawled up my body and hovered over my mouth. He fed it to me and I opened my mouth as wide as possible and still barely got it inside. I licked and sucked like a madwoman and it only served to make me want it more. My pussy throbbed in anticipation. Finally he pulled it out of my mouth and positioned himself between my legs.

He pressed forward gently but firmly. With infinitely slowness he pushed the head inside of me as I could only watch. It felt as if he was splitting me in half and I screamed. Inch by inch he fed me the monster until I could take no more.

With the head of his penis lodged against my cervix it could go no further but there was still a portion of his thick snake outside of me. He pulled back and then pressed forward stretching my tortured pussy even more. Stroke after stroke, he increased his pace until he was just slamming me against the headboard. I heard screams and moans and then realized that they were coming from me.

Then I felt it. This was the point where normally, at least with my husband, I would begin to feel waves of pleasure. But I felt only friction. It was too much. Soon the friction became pain and a burning sensation.

"Stop," I said. "Get off of me!" He continued sawing away at me. As I watched his face it suddenly dawned on me now stupid I had been. He didn't care that I wanted him to stop. What I wanted didn't matter. There was no expression of love for me on his face. That was what I got from Grant. This was just a man fucking some whore who let him have her. I was no better than Mary. In fact I was worse. Mary knew her partners and gave her consent. Mary did it because she wanted to. I didn't even know this man's name. I was just some stupid tourist who had given him her body the night before and he wanted more.

He came to my room and after exchanging fewer than ten words; he'd reached out and started rubbing my pussy. And I had not only allowed it, I had made it easier for him. I had by my actions encouraged him. Suddenly he thrust even harder, making me feel as if he had just split me in half. A slight grunt and then he pushed even further inside of me if that was possible, before releasing a flood of warm fluid.

Afterwards he just rolled off of me and began dressing.

"Not bad," he said. "A little vanilla for my tastes, but not bad. Too bad you're only going to be here for another day or so. I'll have to get what I can out of you before then."

"No!" I said sharply. "I'm married. I won't do this again. Stay away from me, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" he sneered. His friendly tone was gone, replaced by a cajoling yet menacing tone that suggested that my cooperation would be in my best interest.

"You'll either do as I say for the next thirty six hours or so, or your husband back in Nebraska will find out what kind of slut he's married to. If he has any balls or any self respect at all you'll be replace by another Midwestern farm girl before the ink on the divorce papers is dry."

"Michigan," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"We're not from Nebraska. We're from Michigan," I said.

"Who gives a fuck?" he snapped.

"What happened to your accent?" I asked.

"Bitch, I'm from Chicago," he said. "My parents were Nigerian, so I can turn the accent off and on as need be. But that's not for you to worry about. You just be ready when I call you. Perhaps you need a reason to be ready ... I mean other than your fascination with my dick."

He pulled out a phone and stuck it in my face. He pressed a button and a list of emails came up. He turned to the window and waved. I thought he was crazy. But then I understood why he had opened the blinds. Someone from across the courtyard waved back. As I watched another email with an attachment appeared on the list. He opened the attachment and a video started to play.

It showed him walking into the room and talking to me. It showed him reaching out and rubbing on me and me, leaning back and opening my legs for him. I snatched the phone out of his hands and smashed it against the floor.

"Do you really think I can't get as many copies of that video as I want?" he asked. I just looked at him stupidly.

"Don't worry about the phone," he said as he left. "You've already paid for IT and more. You might want to report your credit card stolen so all the shit we bought with it, comes off of your account. I'll be expecting to see you tonight."

At that moment, as if to make things worse, the phone rang. For the first time in days, I spoke to Grant. His voice was a combination of joy at hearing from me and misery because we had never been apart for this long since we'd been married. It was silly because it had only been four and a half days, but I felt it too.

It felt as if we were a world apart.

"This was so stupid," I said. "We will never be away from each other for more than an hour or so again."

I spent the rest of the time until Glenda and Mary got back talking to Grant on the phone. He filled me in on everything that he and the girls had been doing since I left. I told him about everything I'd done. Leaving out what had just happened and what had happened the night before.

The problem was that he asked me over and over again what was wrong. It was as if he was psychic. Grant knew or at least he felt that there was something off about me. That just told me that I needed to get my shit together before I got home to him or he would pick me and my lies apart.

My roommates walked into the suite and found me on the phone. They both smiled when they realized who I was talking to. Mary came over and made faces at me. Her antics made me laugh and I told Grant what she was doing.

When I hung up the phone, they were both kidding me about my call.

"Damn, you look better already!" said Mary. "I wish I had someone who could make me that much better just by talking to him on the phone."

They were right. Just hearing Grant's voice had made me feel stronger and more determined that I would get out of my current problems. My marriage was too important to risk.

We went to dinner in one of the hotel's restaurants. We had a nice dinner that helped to relax me. After dinner we went for a walk on the beach. Just as the sun went down, Mary decided that it was time for us to go back to the hotel to get ready to go out.