So, I've known Anjin (pronounced like "lawn-jean") for 7 years, & been married to her for 4 of those. It's a great life, let me tell you. This story is about how we met some new friends on a trip and, well, it's a little bit racy, and doesn't make me look real good. Still, I may as well tell it like it is: there's little enough in life worth really worrying about, so why get embarrassed, eh? But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
This all started last winter, when we realized we were finally getting a little money socked away. We figured that when the tax return came in, it would cover the bills that month, and we had enough for a vacation. Now in late February, if you live in Boulder Colorado, you're thinking MEXICO! Well to get past the beginning, we got on the internet and found a cheap all included deal in the classiest place we figured we could afford, and off we went!
I was really psyched to get my wife on the beach: she's HOT. A lanky 5'10" long brown hair in a pony tail with a few wisps loose around her face, and maybe 130 lbs, all muscle and tits. When I go in a grocery store, I like to hang back and watch her stop traffic at the cash register. The checker boys are unABLE to look down at the groceries they're supposed to be bagging: they just keep on moving their arms, feeling blindly for the food, with their heads on a swivel looking at her. It's pretty funny, and would be a cause for jealously, except I actually pity them a little cause this little look is all they get, while I know I'll be getting the whole package, undressed, later that night. It's hard not to say something to that effect, actually. Anyway, you get the picture.
In Mexico, we got off the plane and onto the bus without a hassle: they had a tour guide waiting there. He wanted to get our luggage but we didn't have anything besides a carry-on each: couple of swimsuits, t-shirts and a nice outfit, basically. By the time we got to the hotel, way south of the Cancun airport, it was late and we were tired of sitting on our butts. The hotel room was fine, but on our budget, it was kinda industrial scale, one of hundreds, and not a spectacular view or anything. So we left.
The resort complex itself though, that was another story. They had all kinds of stuff going on, bars, a big dance pavillion, and a fire on the beach next to another bar. We picked that one and danced to some reggae band (all played my Mayan locals: go figure). I suck at dancing, but who cares: I get to see her shake it, right? A little later, at the bar, watching other better dancers shake it, Anji says to me, "Hey Jago (my name's Jago) let's sign up for the tour to go see that pyramid!"
She was pointing to a poster on the wall of one of those ancient temples, a thousand steps high, surrounded by jungle and covered in green moss and ancient runes, probably of guys getting their heads chopped off like in that movie, Apocalypto.
"Sure," I said, "that'll be cool. Only maybe we can get a cheap trip over there for less than that price though..." It said $89 per person, on the legend under the poster on the wall.
"Aww, let's splurge. That's less than the price for the room, and all we can do there is sleep."
"You gotta be kidding! That had better not be *all* we can do there, cause if it is, this iw the wrong vacation, and you're the wrong Anjii" I joked back. immediately.
"Ok," she replied, grinning, "you got me there. The room may have SOME uses I guess, but we've got to spend some time outside, so we may as well do it Mayan style, with stone temples and jungles and iguanas, right? Anyway, just imagine what your Mom would say if we come back and didn't see that thing?" (My Mom's kind of a history buff.)
"You're right. It's only money, let's blow it ALL." We asked the bartender how to sign up, and he took care of us right there. Old Mexico is a lot more efficient than the stereotypes give it credit for, at least in terms of separating gringos from their dinero.
We finished the night with the usual festivities, proving I was right about the usefulness of a hotel room on a Caribbean vacation, and basically staying up 'till dawn. After that, the plan was to spend the day hanging on the beach, getting a head start on our sunburns and recovering from all the travel with a few drinks. The drinks were free, which was a good thing, 'cause I got one sticky chick drink poured on my head for spending a microsecond too long checking out some hot topless Swedish babe under the next cabana. Ok maybe it was 30 seconds, but it was just looking!
Hey, it was impossible NOT to: she had really huge boobs, long blond braids, the most gorgeous, nut brown breasts that looked like they'd never been cooped up indoors, and, did I mention her tits? Not only that, but she wore bangeley gold nipple rings that sparkled and swung in time with the anatomy while she rubbed suntan lotion on her shoulders. You could NOT take your eye off her, or I didn't, anyway, until Anjin poured that whole drink down my shirt!
I yelled so loud people took notice, even the Swedish chick. She laughed and that just made her boobs bounce more, and I found I couldn't look away from that either, so I got punched, hard too. This caused Anjii, who up until then had been downright modest in her string bikini, to get a little bit actually pissed, and out for revenge.
"So, is that all you want, some shameless T&A?" she asked. "Well maybe I should just go for a swim, since you've got such a Radar lock on Heidi over there that you can't give ME Any attention!"
And with that she sat up, reached behind her neck and pulled on the string. After untying the top and throwing it at me, she got up, adjusted her suit UP, INTO her butt crack (the reverse of the usual motion), and walked down to the water. I followed, not wanting to miss this, and having a certain amount of coconut goo in my hair and all over my pants that I kinda wanted to wash off, before I had to explain it to anybody. As I scrambled to follow, I looked back over for one final peak at Heidi's milk chocolate tits, and saws her pointing us out to her predictable good looking boy friend. The caught me looking, he waggled a finger, she waggled a lot more than that, and I gave the sheepish trademark Michael Jordan shrug as I ran off after my Anji, to do some apologizing.
At first she played angry, and I had to say she was cuter than any giant breasted Aryan breeding machine. And she said to prove it I should have to go apologize to her tits in person, for a minute each. Since they were underwater, this was a challenge, but I managed it on two breaths. Then going back to get her top, she wanted me to make a promise to fuck her especially good tonight. Now, I was really beat, and this meant she wanted a serious marathon of fucking, I knew. So please don't blame me for saying, "How about tomorrow, Anjin-san, I'm kinda tired today." Now, usually that gets a rise out of her. When we first met, I started calling her that because of a book I read, where the main character is a sailor who travels to Japan, and they call him Anjin-san. But that's not what I told her. When she asked me about the nickname, I told her it was a famous Hawaiian Sumo wrestler who weighed 400 lbs. That was a good laugh for a couple of years until she happened to read the same book one rainy weekend and my joke was ruined. Think I got punched for that one, too.