When we were both naked, we stood awkwardly beside the spa. I was wishing I had lost a few more pounds before the wedding; I felt rather flabby and fat as I stood there in the relatively harsh light, and I could only imagine that as I climbed into the spa I would not be displaying my body to maximum advantage. But I saw Charlie's eyes lovingly focused on my breasts and pubic hair, and I looked at his slightly oversized belly and drooping testicles, and I decided that for fifty-ish we were both looking as good as could be expected. And I knew Charlie didn't care if my breasts drooped or my butt sagged or my stomach bulged, any more than I cared how he looked. He loved my chalk-white skin, my fire-orange crotch, and my lusty mind, and I loved him right back. I climbed into the spa, lying back into its fitted seat, breasts flopping to opposite sides of my chest as I reclined, thighs spreading as I found the most comfortable position. Charlie climbed in beside me, his growing cock swaying as he relaxed and reached for the controls.
The water was squealingly cold at first, and my nipples immediately achieved full erection even as Charlie lost his, but then it warmed up, and Charlie set the shower so that it was like lying in a gentle summer rain. He found a bar of soap which we used to lather each other up—a pleasantly futile task, as the water rinsed the soap away almost immediately. We were genuinely trying to get clean, so we paid attention to each other's underarms, shoulders, torso, stomach, feet, calves, knees, thighs, and—oh yes—crotches. It was fun to run my hands over Charlie's cock and balls, gently squeezing and releasing, making him harder and harder but not bringing him any release. He retaliated by soaping up my vagina and anus, fingers probing casually through every fold and opening he could find as I squirmed and whimpered with pleasure.
By unspoken consent we left ourselves in a state of arousal as we rinsed and dried off and walked naked through the living room and up to the bed. I went up first, aware of his eyes on my ass, wondering just how much of my pussy and anus I was revealing as I walked up the steps with just a bit more sway to my rear than was absolutely necessary. I clambered onto the bed on hands and knees, presenting my hind parts to his gaze, and he climbed on behind me, his hard cock immediately spearing my pussy as he leaned over me to kiss my neck and fondle my breasts, which swayed beneath me as he slowly and methodically slid in and out of me. He alternately pinched my nipples and gently stroked them, and then he left them alone, using one hand to stroke my clit and the other to explore the area around my anus. I was gyrating in time to his fucking, moaning out my appreciation and arousal, sometimes actually using words: "Yes, oh God, yes, Charlie, my Ch—Charlie—oh yes fuck me THERE, yes touch me, yes, yes, oh yes, ohgod, oh Charlie, fuck, fuck me, fuck me, ohhhhfuck.....ohhh....ohhhh...ohgod...."
And he spoke to me as well: "You like that, Dee? You like having a man's cock up your twat? You like having my thumb in your asshole? You like me rubbing your hard wet clit like this? Like THIS?? You like being taken like an animal, like a dog? Ohhhh, you feel good, your cunt feels good, your sweet hot pussy...oh fuck..."
His prick filled my pussy and my asshole clenched tightly around his probing thumb. I was near orgasm, but he stopped his thrusting, remaining deep inside me while his organ throbbed I trembled; then he pulled out ever so slowly and lowered his mouth to my backside. He used my juices as well has his own saliva to spread slick wetness from my clit to the top of my asscrack, and all the time I was pressing back against him, grinding my flowing pussy into his face and tongue. "Oh, Charlie, you are such a nasty boy! Oh yes, lick me, so sweet, so wet, tongue fuck me....oh god...oh fuck...."
Once again, when I was close to coming, he pulled back and simply caressed my rear, lightly running his fingers over its curvature, only occasionally touching the most sensitive places. I was aching, longing for orgasm, and soon I had had enough: I turned around and wrestled with him until he was on his back, rigid cock pointing toward the ceiling, and I straddled him and lowered myself onto him, his proud penis penetrating me, filling my ravenous pussy, deliciously stretching me. The ridge of his cockhead slid over my overstimulated g-spot, and I lost all thought of his pleasure and concentrated on mine: lifting myself up and driving myself down, over and over, faster and faster, our slick genitalia sliding and slurping together, our moans and groaned obscenities filling the room, one hand on his chest supporting me and the other at my crotch patting and slapping my throbbing clit until I came, cursing and flowing, and I collapsed, my full weight on my husband, my pulsating cunt squeezing and spasming around his hot, hard erection.
I lost consciousness briefly, and when I opened my eyes I looked directly into his, which were smiling with delight and humor. He moved very gently inside me, and I felt his cock begin to shoot, and I knew his thick semen was being squeezed out of me to soak his pubic hair and balls and the satin sheets beneath us.
We lay there for a long time in the luxurious languor of afterglow, our brains drifting into sleep even as our bodies were at their most sensitive and alert. When I began to wake again and move my body against his, he moaned and held me tight, held me still, and, with seemingly no effort on his part, he came again, his hot sticky jism once more flowing from my creamy cuntlips, and we kissed, our mouths and tongues re-enacting the fucking we had just given each other, our mouths and faces becoming wet with our saliva and, for my part, tears of joy.
After another brief rest, Charlie gently lifted eased his body out from under mine, his still turgid shaft slithering out of me with a slurping mixture of sex juices. I rolled over, legs spreading still wider, and watched as he got up and stretched. He leaned backward against the railing, his pelvis thrust slightly toward me, his cock swaying and dripping. With his hairy, pasty white skin, flabby belly and satisfied grin, he looked absolutely wonderful to me, and I giggled. "If only the voters could see you now."
"If they could see me now, I'd be elected for life. They would know that if I can handle you, I can handle anything."
More bathing was called for, since we were hungry again and needed a restaurant, but this time we opted for the little swimming pool. Had it been a public pool, I would have been horrified at the stringy ropes of cum that our bodies deposited into it, but as it was, it was romantic to be swimming in our own love secretions. We flirted and caressed, teased and fondled, and were both quite aroused as we got dressed to go out for dinner. Charlie put on a suit and tie, which made him look quite elegant and respectable; I donned a low-cut clingy black knit dress which came to my knees but was so tight as to leave virtually nothing to the imagination. It was impossible to wear anything under such a garment without panty and bra lines, so I was naked under the single tight layer of stretchy fabric. There was a flimsy sort of brassiere built into the bodice, so my boobs were not completely without support, but I did not look at all respectable, especially after I applied about twice as much makeup as I usually wear. Charlie didn't seem to mind: "If the paparazzi find us, the papers will be full of stories about my going out with some loose woman while on my honeymoon."
We drove a short distance to a dark, nondescript alley. I was reminded of the speakeasies I had seen in movies when Charlie tapped on a battered metal door and a small slot opened at eye level. He whispered something, and the door creaked open. I expected a dark, romantic nightclub, but instead we were led into a brightly lit restaurant where we were surrounded by beautiful people of all ages, all the men in suits or tuxes, all the women in revealing gowns. There was a small orchestra playing soft music, and a few couples dancing closely. Very closely. Male hands roamed over bare female backs and barely covered backsides; hips ground together subtly but insistently; eyes and tongues brazenly flirted. Most, but not all, were far younger than we were, and I felt conspicuous in my aging body. But the lust remained in Charlie's eyes when he looked at me across our table, and I knew that whatever might be going on around us, we were still on our honeymoon, still alone in our own world of love and hope and possibility. And sex.
I was amazed that the waiter knew Charlie and called him by name; Charlie guards his anonymity carefully when we are traveling. He sensed my concern and said, "They are very discreet here." And they had to be. Some of the clientele were obviously movers and shakers. I recognized two state senators, one male and one female, the man feeling up his partner in a corner booth, the woman gyrating lasciviously in the middle of the dance floor. [This was back before smart phones and digital cameras became ubiquitous; I understand that now, even though all electronic devices are detected and checked at the door, the establishment's atmosphere is much more circumspect.]
The waiter had a fawning smile for Charlie and just the hint of a leer for me, which I greatly appreciated—and deserved, if I do say so myself. I could feel my breasts bobbing as I took my seat at the table, and feel his eyes on my chest as we ordered our drinks. But he was polite and efficient and left us alone, as a good waiter should.
The tables were such that we could not sit across from each other gazing into each other's eyes. Instead, we sat on a curved and cushioned bench so small there was no way to avoid physical contact (not that we wanted to avoid it!). As we waited for our drinks and food, it was only natural for Charlie's arm to encircle my shoulders and hover within a finger-length of my breasts, and for me to lean against his warmth, my elbow near his crotch and my hand on his thigh. I could not tell whether anyone was watching us, but the knowledge that we were on full display for the rest of the room was quite exhilarating. I did look around at the other tables, where varying degrees of foreplay were being practiced. Some were feeding their meals to each other with one hand and fondling breasts or genitalia with the other. Some were ignoring their food and simply kissing and groping. Some were talking and cuddling. "The rules of public conduct are a little different here," said Charlie. "As you can see, it is up to each couple how much affection they wish to display."
