Chapter 2: Paula Wilson's Honeymoon
Living Out Our Honeymoon Dreams
We spent our first night of marriage in a romantic honeymoon suite, and even though I was still bothered by Paula's infidelity before we got intimate for the first time, she managed to catch my attention as she stepped out in her night dress. Her golden hair hung down her shoulders, and she placed a garland of flowers around her neck with care, wanting to keep them as a memory.
Her night dress was a simple, pale blue piece that reached just below her hips. I couldn't help but notice she was wearing matching underwear when she turned around.
"Well, Mr. Wilson, am I presentable for our first night of marriage?" she asked, turning around again.
"Absolutely. Why not enjoy a glass of champagne to celebrate?" I pointed towards the ice-filled champagne bucket and the cheap bottle the hotel had given us.
"Yes, please!" Paula plopped onto the bed, leaving her legs exposed.
I began to open the bottle, struggling a bit, and we both settled on the bed, toasted each other, and then took a sip.
Champagne tickled my throat and nose, making me cough. Paula thought it was funny and laughed her musical, light, and distinct laugh.
We finished the bottle, which could hold only four glasses, and Paula sat there expectantly. After I placed my glass on the bedside table, she put her hand on my thigh.
"So, Mr. Wilson, what's next? Time for a good night's sleep?" she joked, giving me a champagne-soaked kiss.
I was not good at banter and only smiled back.
"What do you suggest, Paula?" She lay back, spreading her hair over the pillow. I leaned in and kissed her, and soon, I forgot all about Jeff.
We made love, and even though I knew Paula had been with someone on that same bed a few hours ago, I did not let it bother me. In fact, it made me more determined to prove that I was just as talented in bed as her ex.
After the honeymoon, we checked out of the hotel and took a short trip to a local airport. From there, we hopped on a cross-state plane, reaching LA, and finally boarded a flight to Hawaii, the real beginning of our honeymoon.
We spent ten days in a four-star hotel overlooking the beaches, not in the honeymoon suite but a good-quality one since we couldn't afford the pricy suite. It felt like the first time we had spent so many days together.
Apart from dates and a few nights together, we had gone from our first meeting to exchanging vows in just two years.
It could've been a disaster, but it wasn't. We spent lovely days napping, waking up, making love, showering, sightseeing, coming back to the room, and every evening wandering to one of the many bars.
Then there was this favorite bar for Paula, poolside, and open until the last customer went home. Of course, I was too blinded by love to notice the warning signs. I should've seen them, but I didn't. Once day, after a light dinner, Paula said she was going for a walk. I was preparing to take a shower, so I didn't see any issue, especially since we agreed not to bring our phones from the suite as we wanted to be undisturbed.
I took the shower and stepped out to the balcony. The darkness fell quickly, and the hotel was well-lit; out on the beach was a massive party. So, I got dressed and headed there, but the night turned out to be underwhelming – I spent the evening searching for Paula without any luck.
I had reached my limit and chose to leave the room. As I passed by the pool, I heard a familiar noise- Paula's melodious laughter.
It was her. Her laugh was distinctive, and for a instant, I contemplated calling her out, but some inner voice held me back. Possibly it was the recollection of past occurrences. I circumvented the pool, remaining out of sight of the lights and their reflections.
It took me a while to spot her, but eventually, her laugh led me to her. She was seated at the bar, the only customer, deep in conversation with a bartender named Brett.
There were still potential explanations that did not point to infidelity, but I had seen her with Jeff, so I knew that innocent Paula wasn't. I squatted on my haunches and observed.
I had been married for eight days; my wife had cheated on me even before we made love, and now, eight nights later, I knew that she would once again succumb to her desires. Yet, here I was, cowering in the corner and watching.
"Where is he?" I heard Brett inquire.
"No idea, probably masturbating himself to exhaustion."
I scrunched up my face at her crude talk. It stung to hear her sound so casually dismissive of me.
"Does he do that?" Brett chuckled.
"You bet, it's a thing men do, don't they?"
Coughing to mask my shock, Brett tried to laugh. "Do they?"
"Used to be, at least until I met him."
False modesty didn't become her. She was describing a me that didn't exist, yet if she wanted pity, she had it. After all, who was he to argue?
"Sounds like a possessive bastard."
"Hardly. As soon as this ring..." Showing Brett her wedding ring, "...it came on my finger, he became different."
"How long have you been married?" was Brett's next question.
"Around eight... no, nine..."
Lying to the bartender, she looked believable. It didn't surprise me that he fell for it.
"We're still on our honeymoon," Paula added.
She was speaking to Brett, but her gaze found me. Her eyes seemed to repeat the word "honeymoon." Brett gaped in silence, unable to comprehend. Instead, he refreshed her drink, leaving it on the house.
"Thanks, bottoms up." Paula gulped down her glass and gazed around the empty pool. I was hidden, but there was no one else in sight. "Quiet. Is this because of the beach party?"
"Oh well, I might as well not open for the next couple of hours; they'll stay at the party and then straight to bed." He poured himself a drink. "Cheers."
"Cheers."
Brett hadn't released Paula's hand, and now he was caressing her arm. Paula wasn't wearing much- just a bikini top and a wraparound skirt.
"Will he be looking for you?"
"Obviously, but he'll never think to search a deserted bar." Paula giggled.
"I have something to show you."
"Can you guess?"
There was a brief silence, and then Paula erupted into laughter. "You're full of surprises. Grab me a bottle of something."
I stayed as hidden as possible as I heard Brett moving just a few meters away. "Any preferences?"
"Doesn't matter."
As I heard Brett moving, he whispered, "show me what you're referring to."
I overheard Brett moving away, and they raised their glasses to toast each other. I walked closer, discovering some bushy vegetation close to the back of the bar. It seemed unexpected. Instead of unloading crates, I discovered a small yet neat den complete with a portable television and an inflatable bed.
Brett was sitting on the bed, contemplating Paula, who towered over him.
"That's quite clean, isn't it?" Paula prodded the inflatable bed. "Since when was it last cleaned?"
"Yesterday... the day before... and answer me this, have you used it for other activities?" He cupped her waist with his hand and drew her toward him.
Paula didn't comply, and I wondered if she had second thoughts. In a prompt response, she stated, "A couple of rules: After tonight, if we meet, you'll act like a usual bartender--no suggestive remarks, quick gropes, or anything else that could imply tonight happened. Understand?"
"Got it, honey, but come closer."
Hesitantly, she freed his hand and discarded her sandals. She unfastened the sarong and let it abandon her form.
Brett's eyes split wide, astonished at her boldness.
She removed her bra and showcased her bare backside, discarding it in his direction. Remaining clothed only in tiny black panties, she descended into Brett's welcoming arms.
I observed in fascination as they locked lips and caressed each other. I masturbated fervently, struggling to withhold my climax.
Diving deeper into deviance, Paula removed Brett's genitals from his clothing. Next, she perched atop him, kneeling backward, and guided his organ into her mouth.
Having never performed this act with me, not during this stay, and never before, her masterful practice on Brett elicited moans from him. Then, she pivoted facing away, displayed her rear end to him, and Brett began to explore her nether regions with his face.
"Wait!" She protested and retreated. Quickly, she discarded the panties, adopting her initial position. "Now, you may resume." Paula offered Brett her mouth once more, and Brett claimed her sex with his face.
Determined not to ejaculate, I ensured I did not come; fortunately, they altered their activities.
However, Paula did not; instead, she scaled Brett's limp body, now a prone position, and sat atop his member. Maintaining her composure, she rotated backward and forward, hovering at the brink of allowing Brett entry.
"Hey, be prepared. I only have sex with the right person, and that's not you," she bluffed; in reality, Jeff had not used any protection, and she took birth control pills.
Brett swiftly retrieved a rubber packet, deploying it in a moment. Paula nodded in approval before sliding onto his shaft. "Wow! That really does hit the spot," she chuckled. Commencing her rhythmic rocking motion, she mounted and slid up and down on him.
Contrary to my initial feelings of repulsion, I couldn't aid but be in awe of my wife. In my presence, my wife was loving but controlled; with others, she was an uninhibited, cursing sexpot, a mismatched entity within one woman.
The striking image of his member penetrating her vagina was captivating, so near that I could practically touch her. I resisted the urge, choosing instead to watch them swap positions, Paula laying on her back and raising her knees so Brett could colossally thrust into her.
"Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh! ... Ugh!" with each violent thrust, Paula projected intense vocalizations of pain and pleasure. "I'm cumming! Right now! Again and again!" She sorted her hair and shouted into the sky.
Brett resisted his climax until the momentary ecstasy overwhelmed him, jerking and grousing and jerking once more.
Upon realizing my climax, I joined the orgy, having cum.
Nearby, my wife's latest conquest collapsed beside her. "Madam," he breathed, "You are phenomenal; the way you fuck is just out of this world!"
If I had commented similarly, my Paula would have been disturbed. She disdained coarse language, and so did I, surprisingly. But her other, crude alter ego was unaffected by her lover's crude compliments during their tryst.
"Thanks. Now, where is my drink?" In an unperturbed manner, she stretched over Brett in search of her cocktail. Brett's hand crept between her cheeks, finally sliding between her legs.
"Careful there, that area is a bit tender." She swatted his hand away. "If you need to touch, try using this." She tapped on his lips, and when he opened them, she also pressed on his tongue. "And be gentle." She cautioned.
Brett kissed her lips. "When do you need to depart?"
"Why are you forcing me out?"
"NO! I was only asking. I mean, you have a spouse wondering around somewhere."
"Screw him," Paula muttered.
"I'd prefer to screw you." Brett chuckled.
"Then I'll remain... until this bottle is empty." She raised the bottle; it was more than half full.
"Is that long enough?"
"That seems acceptable."
They kissed again, and then Paula pushed down on his shoulder until he understood and lowered his head between her legs.
"Oh, that's such a beautiful sight," she giggled. Her hand touched the back of his head, keeping him trapped between her legs. "Be gentle now," she whispered. Remember, I'm sore."
She climaxed again with Brett's head almost caught between her legs and while she softly stroked his cock back to life.
The bottle was nearly empty when Brett's fingers found her soaked pussy again.
He was hard once more, his penis wedged between Paula's skillful and determined fingers.
"This is the ideal way to end the evening." She giggled as he entered her once more. I stopped wanking and, on wobbly legs, tiptoed out. In the background, I heard her laughter turn to desire.
Read also:
- Yes, Darling
- In order to listen to your moans.
- An Evening with Brittnay: Part 1
- Max Obeys His Mother's Orders
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