VACATION FRIENDS
by PostScript56
They were young and newly married, with that newly married joie de vivre. They were giddy with their happiness and happy to include others. You know, the kind that wants everyone to be happy.
I met them on the bus that took us from the airport to the resort. She was the kind that always had an extra snack in her bag in case someone else forgot theirs and he was like the kid in school who wanted to be your friend so bad he gave you his lunch money; maybe not that bad, just a little too saccharine for my taste, but the wife was hot.
It was the second day there. It was late at the Tiki bar and the rest of the group that played morning volleyball had left - including the girl I came late with, who I'd been fucking all afternoon. She was young and flamboyantly self- centered, and after a few drinks, wanted everyone to know how she got fucked to death for hours and hours, and how she'd never had a bigger cock, how she can barely walk, and that's why we were late. She shared her glory by occasionally tapping me on the shoulder to confirm what she said.
I had my back to her while I talked to the newlyweds. I had been talking to them since I got there. Nadine, the one I was ignoring, was a good fuck, just not too bright. The only interest I had in her was my dick. Dumb. Self-centered. Entitled. She was mostly talking to her girlfriend who was with the guy she hooked up with, but she talked loud enough to include the other people drunk enough to listen. She kept coming back to how she can't walk from all the fucking, how her pussy hurts, how she likes anal but wouldn't think of taking my size up her ass. She wouldn't quit. Me,me,me. I felt embarrassed for her. I mean, she sounded dumb and easy, which she was, and the guys with that in mind were the most attentive. I was embarrassed as she made it sound like we were a couple. Even so, a number of women within earshot gave me interested looks. I knew they stayed away because of her; but, no matter, I was interested in the wife at the moment. Nadine babbled on and on. I ignored her.
Before she left, she leaned drunkenly over my shoulder to tell "Miss Newlywed" she had to try my big cock -- she'd never regret it -- once in a lifetime experience -- porn star material. I didn't even turn around. I thought she was going to stop after the first comment, but she didn't. Her comments faded as her drunken girlfriend and hook-up pulled her away to their room.
The newlyweds took it good-naturedly; we were feeling good ourselves. The newlyweds had been drinking long before I got there. The bride lifted her glass in salute as they dragged her away. We all laughed, but it was hard not to address the elephant in the room.
The groom said unsteadily, "So, big boy, sounds like you got you a fan."
"I got lotsa fans," I joked, looking at his wife.
I was wearing flip flops, a t-shirt, and the form--fitting bathing suit I had on when I picked up miss "me, me, me".
He looked down at my crotch cartoonishly, "Damn! I'm sure you do! What you packing boy? A cannon?"
His wife looked down, "Oh, my," she giggled.
He asked his wife, "Ya' think he's like the delivery guy in that movie? That was some delivery, wasn't it, hon? 'Member what we did after that?"
"Honey, not in front of company," she said with a smile that gave it all away.
"I bet he's more fun to watch then that movie." He said it like a little kid looking forward to something behind his parent's back.
"Now honey, that's his business, not yours." She touched my arm and left it there, "I apologize. Sometimes my husband makes other people's business his business."
"It's ok," I said. "I've been watched before. He can record if he wants."
Her husband was too drunk to notice the suggestive look I gave his wife.
"Oh," he said drunkenly, not fully comprehending the import of my comment. She gave me a side glance, the hint of a smile still there and said nothing.
"See honey, told you." he said. He swayed a bit and took a sip while he thought. It suddenly hit him, "Wait,..."," he paused and put his drink on the bar, "... you?" "Oh, shoot!" he looked at his wife and back at me, "We never knew anyone that did that!" He looked back at his wife, "Did we, honey?"
She shook her head along with him then looked at me with curious surprise, "No."
"Yes, you do, you just don't know - very common."
"It is?" he said, then, after an extended pause, said, "Oh, wait." He looked at his wife, "The Carsons. I bet they do." His eyes lit up like he discovered Gravity. "Marlene graduated with you."
His wife added credence to his comment with a clarification, "Marlene was 'easy' in high school."
He got a shit-eating grin on his face, "She did half the football team," he shook his head with a disappointed look, "Damn!" He recovered with an unctuous smile, "Thank God I was dating you, babe. She don't compare."
She gave him a comical, narrow-eyed, side-glance then turned back to me, "She was nice, though." She shrugged, "She just liked sex."
"Like you, babe."
"Honeeey!..." she complained in a high - pitched whine. "I lost it to youuu! I wasn't like that. You're the only one. Now you're making me look bad."
"Awww, you can never look bad, babe. You're hot. Hotter than she can ever be." He leaned over and gave her a drunken kiss then said to me, "Marlene was hot."
His wife elbowed him playfully in the ribs.
"Ow!, honey. C'mon, she was, wasn't she?"
She looked at me and conceded good naturedly, "She was."
"Then you won't mind I go if I'm invited over, hon?" he teased.
"Not at all," she teased in return, "I'll just invite 'Mr. Cannon' here for a show of my own."
I leaned over and put my arm around her shoulders in response and said, "Sounds good to me."
She, in a faux serious way, did the same with a flourish. "Yeah, sounds good to me."
He conceded with a smirk, "I meant watch you with a woman who ain't my wife."
She took her arm off my shoulders to signal the end of the joke and I took mine off hers.
"But you thought about it," I pressed.
He looked me directly in the eye with his drunken glaze before admitting, "Sure I have."
His wife said nothing and was watching him to see how far this was going to go. It was in her look; a look of amused curiosity about his admission and my obvious proposition.
He looked down guiltily once he realized what he said, if he said it, and was grasping at things and trying to make what he said, if he said it, more palatable. She returned my encouraging smile after she raised her eyebrows with a cock of her head and we watched him juggle his thoughts.
"I thought 'bout a lot of things," he finally said, then emphatically, "it don't mean I do 'em."
"True, BUT, on vacation you can. No one knows," I retorted.
"Yeah, I know. You're right." He got lost in his drunkenness again.
"Of course, I'm right," I smiled at his wife and she covered hers with a sip of her drink. I held her glance and finished my answer, "Your wife knows 'cause I got a big cannon."
She almost spit out her drink and rocked forward; she would have fallen off her stool if she hadn't grabbed the bar.
I followed her face with mine as she bent and recovered.
He held his liquor well, he didn't slur -- yet, and, though it was delayed, could follow a conversation, but not the nuances. He waited politely for her to contain herself before asking, "You think so, honey?"
She shrugged, said, "He's the one with the cannon," then burst out laughing again.
He just swayed on his feet and mindlessly took a sip of his drink, "That's true, honey." His crooked smile signaled a sudden, drunken thought, "You like cannons don't you, honey?"
"I like your cannon," she said diplomatically.
He waggled his eyebrows badly, "His is bigger."
I looked at her and piled on, "He's right, women love bigger cannons."
She joked it off non-committedly, "Is that so?"
He parroted, "Women love bigger cannons," and swayed.
"Yep," I said, "you can do all those things on vacation."
