Laurie shrugged at my silence and walked away. She turned back, sort of. “Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know. We have the same art history class. REMEMBER?”
On our fourth date I kissed her, tentatively. “That’s nice,” she said, brushing her hair back and pulling away. Our first two “dates” had been coffee at the campus Bigbucks. Then I took her out to dinner. Afterwards she asked me to drop her off at some frat house, for a party. In parting, she kissed my cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
On our fourth date she suggested we pick up a bottle of screwcap wine at the convenience store and drive to the look-out, where the lights of our city twinkled in the valley below. It was here that Laurie, who at the time was a philosophy major, expounded her Theory of Human Relationships. “I believe,” she said, as we passed the bottle back and forth, “that a woman should choose one particular type of man as a husband—someone kind and sweet and, let’s face it, somewhat submissive…a great and loving father when the time comes…and another type of man—or men plural—as her lovers. She would have her husband as a life-companion, just like it says on all the dating sites, and a couple of guys on the side to pleasure her in bed. Not OUR bed necessarily,” Laurie quickly added, as if we had one. “Because it’s been my experience in life—and I’ve been sexually active for some time now, let’s face it—with my looks? It’s been my experience in life that the guys who are really great in bed are total assholes…Can you say Brad? While the sweet, sensitive guys who would make great husbands…provided they’re not gay—and great fathers for our children—are, well, they’re sort of limp dicks. No offense!” Laurie quickly added. “We haven’t even slept together. I’m just making a general observation. I’m sure there are guys out there who are both great lovers…big fucking dicks and great stamina and all that…AND wonderful husbands and fathers…It’s just,” Laurie continued in her stream-of-consciousness fashion, “I haven’t met any of them. And believe me, I’ve been with a lot of fucking guys.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” Laurie asked of the starry scene below. “Do you believe in unicorns? I do! Anyway, does this sound like a scenario you’d be comfortable with? Marriage-wise? Me and you? But me and other guys as well? On the side? I’d make them wear protection. Well, everybody but Brad. We go way back. But what I mean is when we have children they would likely be yours? Cool?”
I dropped Laurie off at another frat party that night. My head was spinning.
“No wife again today?” the big, grinning Hawaiian bartender observed.
“Still got a migraine,” I lied.
“Bummer! Guess you’re not getting any of this,” he said, hand circling thick wrist, as he made the thrusting sign off universal fucking.
“Not in, like, four days,” I replied, averting my eyes.
“Too bad, man. What’s a honeymoon for?”
“Tell me about it, man.”
“Bacardi 151? And Coke?” the bartender asked, turning.
“Make it a double.”
“You got it, bro.”
I sat back in my Tiki bar stool. It was 11:03 a.m.
When I staggered back to the hotel room I found a new email on my iPad. I jumped for joy. It was from Laurie. The first contact I’d had with my wife in two-and-a-half days. It read:
“Hi sweetie! Here with Brad-o. Lots of sex. (Outside of bed he’s a [sic] asshole however.)
Here’s a link to something we posted last night. HOT! Don’t worry, no faces, no one will ever know. Be back tomorrow late. Hugs & kisses!”
The link led to a website where amateurs, straight and gay, posted videos of themselves having sex. Brad and Laurie’s video was titled, appropriately enough, Brad & Laurie Have Hawaiian Honeymon [sic] Sex (and Brad is not my husband).
I blushed, sort of. I guess the title could’ve been less explicit. On the other hand what were the chances our relatives would ever visit this site? Our friends? That was a different story…
I cracked open the pint of 151 I’d purchased from the bar’s package store, and touched the “Play” arrow. The POV was from above. It was Laurie’s tanned ass. I would’ve recognized it anywhere. And if not there was her unmistakable “tramp-stamp:” a trio of intertwined pink roses on a thorny green stem that ended barely an inch from the top her crack. She’d gotten the tat in college.
Aside from that I could only glimpse the back of her thighs and, above the roses, the bumpy arc of her back’s spinal cord. As for Brad…
First and foremost there was his enormous circumcised cock which I’d jealously witnessed so many times in the shower. It glistened with lube and he held it in a fist at its base. At this point I could also view the fronts of his hairy, peach-sized balls and the fronts of his muscular quarterback thighs.
Then Brad found socket with Laurie’s hole, her rear one, and pushed in. “Oh!” Laurie cried. “OH! You’re so big!” It was a refrain my wife would repeat continuously for the next fifteen or so minutes.
I hit pause at this point. Ran to Laurie’s suitcases, discarding clothing as I went. Grabbed another panty. Two in fact. Wrapped one around my hard cock (keeping one in reserve), returned to the bed and hit Play.
Brad fucked my wife anally until the 15:39 point of the video. Then he pulled out with a loud sigh and declared: “I’m gonna cum!”
“Cum baby!” my wife declared. “Cum in me!”
Brad began stroking his glistening cock. Ahead of it my wife’s asshole was dilated the size of a Susan B. Anthony dollar coin. He finally shot his load. Some landed in her dark hole, some up her crack, some on her vagina. He pushed into her again, driving his own pearly-white semen deep inside her. When he pulled out again his cum dripped below, to the bedspread.
“Oh!” he cried.
“Oh,” Laurie echoed.
“OH!” I screamed, cumming in Laurie’s backup panty.
The video ended at 19:19. Holy fuck!
“The missus!” the same bartender said as we sidled up to the Tiki bar. “What can I get for you?”
“A white wine for me,” Laurie said. I was sitting next to one of the most beautiful, desirable women in all of Hawaii, which is saying something. And she’d just returned from her adventure with Brad. Brad. Who would remain a fixture in our lives for years to come, until that unfortunate drone attack on State Street.