Compromising Positions - Part 1

He wanted to visit Ireland, see the castles, the green hills, visit a pub and maybe explore his roots. She wanted Cancun, to hit the beaches and drink exotic drinks served with frilly umbrellas and fake fruit. In the end, they compromised.

They went to Cancun.

He wanted to spend their first day just sleeping off jet-lag in their hotel suite. Maybe relax by the hot-tub, and get a late dinner, after making love for the first, official time. Official because, at his age, there was no point in holding off until after rings were exchanged. Still, it would only be their third time and given the rough suddenness of the first, and the wicked, on-the-sly moment that was their second, he was looking for something more romantic this time.

He was looking to make love to his beautiful, bashful bride.

His bride, beautiful, but not really one to be all that full of bash, was walking along the beach. That was what she wanted, so of course, they had "compromised" again. She did look lovely, the sunlight shimmering off her tanned skin. She was like a child, looking for a bit of sand to turn into a mighty castle. With her tiny bathing suit and flirty behavior, she was certainly erecting many fine structures out on the coast.

Of course, none of those fleshy towers were made of sand.

He was a few steps behind her, trying his damnedest not to burn under that God-awful sun. His glasses were dark, his nose was white with lotion, and he was currently wearing a black Hawaiian shirt, with white pants, the cuffs pulled up over his ankles. Looking at his wife made him smile. Looking at the other men who were looking at his wife made him smile a little less.

He was smaller than most of the bigger, muscle-bound, Speedo-clad man-boys that populated the beach, but there was definitely an air about him. He looked like the sort of man that had friends, friends in dark alleys; friend who carried the hardware needed to make size matter little, if at all. And so the men watched, but kept their distance.

He appreciated that. The last thing he wanted to do was have his honeymoon ruined because of men behaving like boys. He blinked, realizing that he had lost sight of his wife. Suddenly, he felt her warm, tanned body collide with his much paler one.

"Oh god, oh god! Nathan! She is absolutely GORGEOUS!" His wife virtually squealed, her short-ish blonde hair brushed out of her face as she chewed on a plump, pink-painted bottom lip. "We have got to go over there and talk to her. Oh please?"

Nathan sighed and turned to the way his wife was gyrating with her round little bottom and had a look. To his credit, he did not whistle. In fact, looking at him, you could hardly tell there was much of a reaction all. In fact, you would have to be pressed against his white pants, like his wife was, to see just how interested he was in what he saw.

She squealed, feeling her husband's bulge pumping in his pants. With a giggle, she cooed in a sultry voice, "Mmmmm, does daddy like what he sees? Can we talk to her?"

Nathan really did not want to. He was enjoying the sight, but honestly, the last thing he wanted on his honeymoon was temptation. But Cynthia really seemed interested for some reason. Whatever was on her mind?

As usual, they compromised. As usual, Cynthia got her way. The couple made their way over to the sunning beauty that had attracted even more attention in her lounger than the tanned blonde had.

The pair stood, only a few feet away, looking at a woman so beautiful, neither of them knew what to say.

She was blissfully content. For the first time in quite a while, the young woman was able to relax completely. Normally her work at BGSC had a distinctly unpleasant habit of following her even after the working day was over, sometimes intruding into weekends and vacation. Not this time, though. This time she had left her ‘crackberry’ behind, and set forth for her holiday with only a prepaid cell to keep her in touch with the world. In keeping with this philosophy, the phone had been off for the majority of the week; indeed, she realized sleepily, she had completely forgotten it for this morning’s foray to the beach.

She had wanted to go to Hawaii, but her budget hadn’t run quite to that extent. Cancun, however, had been well within her means, and it was certainly tropical enough to suit her wish to lie on a beach, drinking cocoanut-flavoured rum drinks and de-stressing. Besides, she could always dress – or undress, as appropriate – as if she was in Hawaii, as long as she didn’t take it too far. Thus, her attire consisted of a sarong riding low – very low – on her hips, and a lei positioned strategically on her bust, so that local mores would not b

... more on the forums ...