This Isn't Vegas

I always said my epitaph would be "How hard can it be", my wife disagrees, she thinks it's going to be "Well I didn't think that would happen." After our recent holiday I think she may be right.

Let me explain. I'm Dave, I manage a lifting company in the container docks in Felixstowe, that's what the rest of the world call cranes. I'm originally from Portsmouth but came up this way ten years ago for work and been here ever since.

My wife is Abigail, she's an admin manager for Morrisons supermarkets based in their regional office in Ipswich, local girl born and bred. She's thirty five, I'm thirty seven, no kids but we do have a cat, to be honest she has a cat, I just feed the little shit and clean up the dead animals it brings in. We all live in a nice three bed detached place on the new Wimpey homes estate in Martlesham. You know the sort of place, integral garage, en-suite to the main bedroom, cable TV.

I play golf a couple of times a week with three mates, Barry, Paul and Ken. Ken's name is actually Norman but since he was twelve and at school he's been known as Ken, from his last name, Chekkin. As in Kentucky Chekkin. Barry's a bit of a bandit, claiming to play off 28 when he really should be in the high teens but as he is a bit tasty, ex 2 para and French foreign legion, we tolerate it. Paul runs a bouncy castle and ice cream van business, seems to do OK judging by the Merc he drives and the quality of girls he brings to ladies night at the club.

Abbie is a size twelve with a curvy body and long blonde hair, blue eyes and an independent streak a mile wide running right through her, she's quite close with the other guys wives, apart from Paul who hasn't got one any more (Lucky bastard, lol) and when we have our boys golf trips away the girls sometimes go for a spa weekend together.

The boys and I work on the basis of 'What happened in Vegas, stays in Vegas', not that we've been to Vegas yet but you get the idea. Now, that's not to say anything does happen in Vegas but if it did, like maybe meeting a hen party on the Isle of Wight and not much Golf getting played, well no one at home would hear anything of it.

One summers evening we were coming in on the back nine when Paul asked if we fancied another boys outing, a bit further afield this time. This intrigued us but no one wanted to be the first to sound too keen so we let it slide with a general agreement but no more than that. You could tell this was pissing Paul off and three holes later just as I was teeing off he said "Ibiza".

"Oh, nice one dickhead," I complained. " I just sliced that thanks to you distracting me. I'm going again, that one don't count."

The others decided I wasn't going again and I'd sliced because I always slice when I try to tee off with a five wood and why didn't I accept I was a shit golfer and use a driver or a hockey stick. Aresholes.

"What about Ibiza then?" I asked, accepting the judgement of my peers on my golfing abilities, for now.

Paul leaned back on his driver, "Oh now you're interested? Well, you now canny Mike," we all knew canny mike, he tried to give the impression of being some connected shady businessman with fingers in pies all over, when in reality I think he was probably no dodgier or connected than my auntie vera, and I ain't got an auntie vera. He got the nick name "Canny Mike" because he was from the North East and always said "Canny" as an alternate for Good, or Nice, or Lots, or attractive.

So, yes we said we all knew Canny Mike.

"He's got a place in Ibiza, five bedroom villa, ensuites the lot, sky TV, golf course next door. He says I can use t for a week, no charge."

Barry was right in there, "That's the price I like and the birds over in Ibiza, fackin hot as. I'm in."

Ken was a bit less convinced, "Canny Mike likes to look well dodgy, what's the catch?

I agreed, a free week's accommodation was one thing, owing a local small time dodgy businessman was another.

Paul gave us a tolerant, I'm cleverer than you smile. "I was doing some trading with him last week and mentioned I was going to take some time off in early September, it's been a busy season and I could do with a break, and he offered me the use of his place. He can't get out there and he's got a couple of antique clocks to bring back for his mum. It's her birthday in October and he wants them back here. He can't get out there and he can't send his boy since he got that ankle tag. Everybody wins."

I had to admit, it sounded a bit less dodgy once he explained it. "Alright, I'm in. Boys trip, yeah? Don't want the other halves cramping our style."

The others were equally keen, so we finished the round, enjoyed a couple of beers in the clubhouse and went our separate ways.

Whether it was Ken or Barry that let it slip I don't know, although I reckon it was probably Barry, but a week or two later Abigail came home from shopping with a couple of bags of clothes from Next, none from Victoria's Secret I was sorry to see, and a massive attitude.

"Were you going to go and not tell me, or were you going to tell me just before you went, Wanker?"

I pretended to not know what she was talking about, which lasted all of ooh I dunno, a minute?

"Don't lie to me. You and those golfing buddies of yours are planning on swanning off to Ibiza on a boys outing, leaving us at home to wait sweetly for your return. Do you really think I'd let you go and swan around those slappers playing the big man without me? I go or you don't, or you go and I don't and you don't bother coming back."

I know when I'm beaten and made a couple of calls, Barry and Coop had been on the receiving end of something similar, Paul laughed at me and pointed out, 'No Wife, Happy Life' the smug twat.

Short version, on the second weekend of September three wives and the latest girlfriend were in the departure lounge at Southend international Airport with us.

Ken couldn't make it, some dopey tart of a girl had got shagged him and tried to get ten grand out of him to keep quiet, when he wouldn't pay she'd sent pictures to his wife. You couldn't see her face and he wasn't saying but he suddenly needed all his money to pay a solicitor, and to rent a shitty bedsit.

His Brother came along instead, Coop. We'd met him before and he was sound.

I'll give Paul his due, the house was everything he'd said it was, five big double bedrooms, Sky TV in each one, pool, Hot Tub jacuzzi thing that seated ten, sun loungers and a golf course next door. I dumped my bags in our room and wandered into the kitchen, the big double American fridge had been pre-stocked to our order. Fortunately, the girls had taken care of that and so it wasn't just rammed with beer. There was tonic and lemonade too. No, there was food as well.

I grabbed a cold Bud and walked out onto the terrace between the house and the pool, Paul's girlfriend had already taken up residence on one of the sun loungers. I admired the view, the twin peaks were covered in bright yellow, I say covered, there were a couple of bright yellow patches and a V shaped bright yellow cover further down.

Abigail joined me, giving me a poke in the ribs. "If you're going to check out her tits you could be a bit more subtle about it." I pretended not to know what she meant.

Paul joined us and looked across at the same impressive view I'd been admiring. "Uh, Genevieve, we talked about this." He all but snapped his fingers at her, I found it hard not to be jealous at the lack of attitude. If I spoke to Abbie like that, she'd give me a right mouthful, even if she knew I was right. Genevieve sat up, reached behind her back, unclipped the skimpy bikini top and discarded it under the sun lounger before relaxing back down again. Paul walked over and gave her a sloppy kiss on the mouth, his hand resting on the perfectly formed tit nearest him for a cheeky squeeze.

"That's better, babe."

I told Abbie she should go and change and grab some rays, but all I got was a look before she went in saying something about unpacking. The other guys came out and joined me for a beer, Coop flashed the ash and we all sparked up. It's a thing we do, when we go away the Marlboro lights come with us. Barry and Coop noticed the view almost immediately and we decided amongst us that we'd get our wives to sunbathe topless too. Barry's wife, Sharon, had the biggest but that's because there was a lot of her, not fat as such, just let herself go a bit since the kids moved in with her first husband. Barry seemed unconcerned but if Sharon wanted them back, he always said he'd 'persuade' her ex, like they did in the legion.

Coop's wife, Michelle, would look pretty good out of her bikini too, but was such a mousey type that I couldn't imagine that happening without the application of a lot of wine. Still, Abbie was normally willing when we went away, so I'd be holding up my end of the agreement.

Paul came back out, "Who's up for the first round boys?" he shouted enthusiastically.

I held up my Bud, "I'll have another, mate"

He looked at me like I was stupid, "No, quick nine before we go out this evening? The girls can stay here and........" he paused, as if he didn't know what women actually did, "Catch up" he finished lamely. We grabbed our clubs and headed out the door, Part of me fancied sticking around to see if they did all get their tops off but I figured with Genevieve I'd already seen the best on offer, and Abbie's were next best and I could get them anytime.

We were gone around three hours with beer and, well beer really, and rolled back to the villa around 6pm. "Come on Ladies, lets go and eat. You not ready? What you been doing?" Paul was drunker than the rest of us and prepared to take some chances that I might not feel safe with. That and Genevieve being well trained probably helped.

If he'd kept his mouth shut we might have got a chance to check out the goods on offer, as it was his shouts stirred them up and the three wives came running in, fastening tops up or in Sharon's case, settling the halter neck of her one piece back in place under her brown hair. Still, good to know they were doing as we'd told them.

We found a restaurant quite close that had menus in English, I ordered a T Bone with all the bits, fried onion rings, chips and peas as did Barry and Coop. Abbie went for some fish thing, Michelle and Sharon shared a paella and Genevieve asked about the vegetarian menu. Paul seemed surprised, asking how long she'd been vegetarian, before ordering Lobster for himself and a salad for her.

We must have got through six bottles of wine and were laughing long and loud when the waiter told us they were closing for the night so we wandered back to continue the party.

Sometime during the meal Abigail started recounting stories about her time travelling round Australia before I'd known her. I know she and her travel partner Beeney had a pretty wild time but she wouldn't tell me the good stories, throwing my own words back at me. It seems the wine and the company had loosened her tongue. She was telling everyone how she and Beeney had hitch hiked from Sydney to Cairns over two weeks and some of the crazy things they'd done on the way.

Beeney, she explained, was a really tall, like nearly six foot tall, blonde Dutch girl with, and I can't believe my wife said this, "Tits to die for and an arse you'd want to lick maple syrup off."

"Babe, what are you doing?" I asked, trying to calm her down.

"I'm telling them about hitch hiking. It's easy getting a lift when there's two of us like this."

She stood up and scurried back inside, leaving a silence heavy with anticipation, Michelle looked to Sharon for some support and turned to me, "I think she's a bit upset, you rushing straight off to play golf like that."

I looked around incredulously. "It's a golfing holiday, what's she expect?"

Abbie returned a minute or two later in short shorts and a sleeved blouse top.

"Barry, can you help here?" She asked, directing our burly ex-para to the sleeves. He gripped on and looked questioningly at her, she nodded "Yes, go for it." and he ripped the sleeves off, leaving her with frayed edges where the sleeves used to be.

"So, we'd start hitching like this" she demonstrated, sticking her thumb out and swivelling her body, and as time went on we'd take turns to undo a button." She popped the first and swivelled again. Nothing much changed. "and another," she popped another button. "Boys, when would you stop, tell me and I'll stop." She shot me a look that would have frozen a bonfire "Not you." Another two buttons had gone and her tits were obviously bra less and threatening to burst out with each movement.

None of my so-called mates said a thing. Abbie carried on. "No lift yet, don't forget there were two of us and Beeney's tits are MUCH nicer than mine."

Paul chimed in with "Yours look pretty good to me Abbie." Which didn't do much for my mood.

"Thank you Paul, it's nice to be appreciated for a change."

She undid the last button and swivelled again, almost displaying everything to the assembled audience.

"Sometimes, we did this" she told them conspiratorially, untucking the blouse completely. Now every move she made left her nipples on display. Michelle and Sharon were shocked, but in a ' my god our friend's so crazy' kind of way. Genevieve was tapping on her phone, Barry, Paul and Coop were lapping it up.

"And One time we did this." She took her top right off, standing with one hand on her hip the other with her thumb out. "Then we spent the entire lift like that, just as a thank you to the nice boys for picking us up."

With a smirk she sat down on the opposite side of the table from me, topless, and grabbed the wine bottle, topping up her glass.

"Babe, put your shirt back on" I told her.

"Why? It's OK for me to sit round the pool topless, but not round the dinner table? I thought you wanted your mates to look at my tits? Don't you like them seeing me?"

I knew there was no right answer here, whatever I said was going to see her sleeping in one room and me in another, or on the floor.

I flapped both hands in her direction with a muttered "Whatever" and picked up my beer.

Paul gave Genevieve a tap on the shoulder, "C'mon, bedtime." As he left the table he stopped and gave Abbie a kiss, diving in and landing it on her lips, his furthest hand slipping up and giving her breast a stroke, I saw his thumb roll her nipple. She gave a loud "mmmmm" and kissed him harder.

That was going too far. I clanked my bottle down on the glass topped table. "I'm still here you know"

She glared across. "Oh leave it alone, I'm just giving him a kiss good night. Like you did on the Isle of Wight."

I started. "Isle of Wight? Whaat, wh, what d'you mean?" I glared at the other three guys, "Who said anything? Vegas rules boys."

"Hah. "she spat at me. "no one said anything. I was suspicious when you came home and did your own washing and didn't want sex for a fortnight. You just proved it. "

Coop looked guilty, then realised he wasn't on that trip so had nothing to feel guilty about.

Barry fidgeted uncomfortably, turning to Sharon he denied anything had happened and tried a return shot of "What about your spa days? Eh? What happens there?" All three women laughed at him, they actually out loud, pointing and snorting laughed at him. Genevieve paused on the way to her bedroom and clarified "I think you'll find nothing happened on the spa days dear. Good night."

That marked the end of the evening. I spent an uncomfortable night on the bedroom floor, Sharon and Michelle carried on as normal and Paul and Genevieve gave us an hour's soundtrack of moans and bouncing of bedsprings. That girl was vocal.

Next morning was Saturday and I woke aching and stiff on the floor, but Abbie seemed in a much better mood. She brought me a coffee and invited me up onto the bed, cuddling up and smooching a bit. I had the good sense not to complain and kissed her enthusiastically. Her hand slipped inside my boxer shorts and started massaging my limp cock into a state of excitement. She set up a steady rhythm, spitting into her hand and polishing the head. I was getting close to cumming when she stopped and skipped over to the en-suite shower. "You can finish off yourself if you like, I don't mind. "she called out, "Or you can think about it all day and see where the evening takes us."

I lay in bed watching Soccer AM tell me about the Premiership Derby between Man U and Man City, I made a note to try and catch that, kick off was 5pm UK time so we could probably be in a bar to watch it. Abbie quite likes a bit of footie, so I was probably safe suggesting it. She'd left the door to the bathroom open, and I was finding my erection was taking a pleasantly long time to subside as I watched her shower when Barry poked his head through the door.

"Mate, we're thinking of getting a swift eighteen in this morning, fancy coming?" he asked.

Abbie called out from the bathroom, but I couldn't tell what she said, nor could Barry who automatically walked further in to hear better. She was out of the shower and standing naked in the bathroom, drying herself when he turned and gave a startled double take.

She seemed completely unfazed by it and stood slowly patting herself with a big fluffy bath towel.

"Hello Barry, did you mention golf. Yes, off you go Dave, have a round and I'll go off to the beach with the girls."

Barry tried to answer but it came out sounding like "blleeuurrggggllee. Ab.. Ab. Abig"

She looked down at herself. "Oh, silly me. Sorry Barry, did I surprise you?" She wrapped the towel around her, just below above her nipples, pushing her tits together in a pronounced cleavage. Barry carried on staring for a moment then seemed to snap out of it, rushing out with a garbled "See youtthefronintwennymate" over the shoulder.

"What was that all about?" I demanded.

"Oh, for fuck sake Dave, you wanted me to sit round the pool naked, or topless at least. Why do you object if I do it elsewhere? I didn't know he was coming in. Now, are you going to wank yourself off? Do you want the towel?"

Feeling battered I ignored her and stepped into the shower, leaving the door open so she could see I didn't finish what she'd started. She made a show of watching while she dressed in her bikini bottoms and a t shirt. "OK, we'll see what happens later. Enjoy your golf, see you back here in time to go out for diner again."

The boys and I played the full eighteen as a fourball, then again as a Stableford which got us back in the clubhouse by two pm. We sat on the veranda drinking cold Estrella, smoking and putting to world to rights.

"I'm sorry about Abbie last night guys, I don't know what got into her. She seemed better this morning."

Barry went deep red, and Paul suggested he knew what ought to get into her to put her right.

I told him to watch out and keep his hands to himself in future. Coop found himself in the roleo f peacemaker and got us to calm down and apologise.

We were back at the villa by five, to find the girls were already dolled up ready to go out. Abbie was in a low-cut red top and a pair of tight shorts, she bent down to scratch her toe and showed her thong riding up her back and gave Coop a good view down her front. I didn't know if it was deliberate, until she did it again for Paul when I was certain.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, not wanting to cause a scene.

"Oh, these new shoes are a bit tight, I was just trying to slacken them off."

The shoes weren't hers, they had a four inch spike heel and thin black leather straps to hold them on. My guess was she'd borrowed them from Genevieve.

I was not going to win this, so I backed off, the taxis arrived and took us into the centre of town where we found a nice Chinese place with a TV behind the bar, so I didn't miss the match. 2-nil City, Sterling hammered them both home from ten yards out.