Free Honeymoon Hazards by Ben Boswell Page A

bargain.”
    “That still doesn’t…”
    He nodded. “No, that was just an excuse, wasn’t it? Claire and I, we have a real chemistry. And, in fairness, John, it wasn’t clear that you didn’t approve. You did watch the entire thing take place passively with a silly grin on your face.”
    “I was stoned out of my gourd.”
    “You seemed to be quite encouraging it.”
    “You knew better.”
    He shrugged.
    “I am quite sorry that this has interrupted your honeymoon, but I hope you can see if for what it was, a silly, island fling. If you’d been ill for just a little longer, this could have been just a quiet affair, with you none the wiser, and Claire and I each coming away with an enjoyable, private memory.”
    “So, it just happened? And then what? You went back to your room…” I prompted.
    He nodded. “Yes. By the time we finished out on the beach, you were passed out. So I invited her back to my suite.”
    I stared at him expectantly.
    He continued. “We took a shower together to wash away the sand. And well, that turned into more.”
    I imagined them soaping each other up. His slippery fingers trailing across her nipples. She squatting before him, swallowing his prick into her mouth as the hot water rained down upon them. Had he come in her mouth then? Had he pressed her up against the marble tiles, taken her from behind?
    “And then we went to bed. I recently turned 40, you know, and had had quite a bit to drink. I would have been almost as happy to fall asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman. But Claire was impressively insistent. She brought me around and then… well, as I say, your wife is a wonderful lover.”
    I pictured her riding him, slowing, working his cock for her pleasure. I could see her running her hands over his muscular chest, relishing the feel of his strong hands on her body. And then when she’d climaxed into exhaustion, I could see her rolling off him, lying face down on the bed, inviting him to take his pleasure.
    “And this morning?” I prodded.
    “Yes,” he said, smiling at the memory. “She woke in me in the nicest way a woman can wake a man.”
    It was amazing how evocative he could be with such a few words. I imagined a ray of sunlight piercing the curtains, illuminating her face as she sucked gently on his prick.
    “We were making love when you called,” he added.
    I visualized him, between her widely spread legs, fucking her hard, both of them knowing this was the end of their encounter. Would they have kissed? No, I imagined them just locking eyes, their fiery gazes complementing the sensations coming from the loins.
    I looked at him. Freshly showered, he showed visible evidence of his night with my wife.
    “She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    I nodded.
    Our conversation was at an end. He rose and began to leave.
    “Trent?” I called after him. “Did you really get stood up at the altar?”
    He smiled enigmatically.
    “Keep away from her, okay?”
    He nodded. “Of course. But John, if you do decide you want to explore your voyeuristic fancies, please do keep me in mind. I can assure you we’d put on a good show for you.”
    I stared at him in disbelief. He grinned, turned and walked out of the bar.

    I went upstairs. Claire was in the bathroom, the hotel room humid from a recent shower. It occurred to me that insisting on meeting me in the bar might have been a way for her to sneak into our room and get cleaned up. I didn’t like that they were apparently colluding against me.
    She heard me walk in. I looked up to see Claire rushing to greet me. She came to a screeching halt just feet away, realizing, I think, that attempting a hug was not the best way to begin the encounter.
    “John, I’m so sorry,” she began.
    It’s funny. As I’d walked back to the room after meeting Trent, I’d imagined the conversation in my head. Should I get angry, call her a whore, tell her things were over between us? Should I be compassionate, open to an apology, willing to