Anniversary Vacation I thought for a minute, and was so aware of my penis filling, and my mind filling with images of long ago, and possible new images, better ones. Real time ones. "I don't think you should ruin his whole life, honey, by not going down to meet him." "Maybe you should pretend you're back in New York, like you were in the Garden City Hotel thirteen years ago when you were Miss Casey. Maybe be 'I'm a teacher on vacation' Miss Helen Casey, and not Mrs. Al Dunes on a ten year anniversary vacation. Maybe it's time for a new Haroldo. What do you think of that? I dare you to keep a date with this guy. Double dare, even!" "You are serious, aren't you? Seriously perverted, anyway." "You want to know how serious? Look at this." I pulled the covers back. She could have no doubt about how excited I was. She bent down - oh, I love when she touches me. She looked at the purple head protruding from her hand. "Mr. Little Prick, did you hear what your life support system said?" She made it nod. "Do you want me to meet this guy, too?" She made it nod again. "Mr. Little Prick, I think this guy may not have honorable intentions toward me. Maybe he wants to put his Mister Prick where you like to go. Does your life support system know that?" She said "Be careful what you wish for, baby." "I know just what I'm wishing for. What time is it, anyway?" "A few minutes after four." I looked at her, her sparkling eyes, her hand on my thigh. "Maybe you'd better get ready for your date, or are you just teasing me?" "You know I don't have the imagination to make things like this up. You want me to go and leave you in this state?" She nodded at Mr. Prick throbbing in her hand. "Yeah." "Like at the Garden City Hotel? I don't want to make a mistake about this." "Yeah, like that." "Except, now I'm not sad, so I don't need a Haroldo to make me feel good about myself - you do know that, you make me feel good. It would have to be just for fun, for you and for me. You won't be mad?" "Nope." "OK. How long should I stay, honey?" "Long enough to get a good story, but for sure not all night." "That sexy kind of story, huh?" "Yeah, that kind of story." "Can I stay long enough so that I don't have to make anything up?" "Yeah, that long." "Long enough to make him get long, too?" "No, a little longer than that, to make him wet and to make his cock softer, too." "Be careful what. . ." "Yeah, I know, what I wish for. I wish. . .I wish. . ." "You're wishing it's going to be like Haroldo?" she prompted. "Yeah, like that." "You're just not a jealous man, are you?" "No, honey. I know you love me, and I know the difference between seduction and lust and sex, and love. "If I go, that could really happen, you know. That seduction stuff, and lust stuff, and sex stuff. It could easily happen in a place like this, and a guy like this Michael." "I know. I want it to." "You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Dune." She went to the bathroom, came out with her hair combed out to her shoulders, smelling of flowers and spice. She wrapped her white sarong over her bikini, fastening the inner flap button between her breasts, and completing the wrap to under her arm, where the outer corner fastened. A final button at her hip, and a quick knot in the sash, and she was ready. Images of Michael undoing that flooded my mind, while she smiled and told me she'd "be back in a while. . ." "Maybe I'll go down for a drink, too." "Good. Come down soon, so you can see the man you want me to mess around with." And, with that, she left. I couldn't stand the suspense. I pulled on chinos, and a shirt, and was on his way down a minute later. I got to the lounge in time to see her sitting with a guy - that had to be Michael - who was so obviously Irish they looked like a caricature of an Irish couple. He was ten or fifteen years older than me, with dark curly hair, the both of them had that pale Irish skin, their heads were together, laughing. Him, mostly talking, her, mostly listening, both enjoying themselves. Of course she saw me sitting at the bar, but obviously decided to pretend she didn't know me. After a half hour, with the sun still high in the sky, Michael stood, looking down at her, and extended his hand, an obvious invitation. She looked at him, then to the side where she saw me watching, saw me nod, and took his hand. Michael made a sweeping gesture, indicating the way out, and she stepped to his side, and still holding his hand went to the door. I watched as they left, followed them to the lobby, followed as they went to the elevators, watched as they entered, and watched as the indicator climbed to the fourth floor, carrying Michael, carrying Helen. I stood there in a kind of a daze when Stan and Barbara came by, moving to the next elevator. Still shocked, I joined them. Stan made a friendly gesture: "You guys wanna join us for dinner in a little while?" I was befuddled at best, and declined. "Uh, no, I gotta wait for Helen. I don't know for sure when she'll be back." Barbara enhanced the offer, making it even better. She gave me a quick kiss fully on the lips, and said "Oh, leave a message for her, come on up to our room and party with us." "I really have to wait for her. A party does sound nice, though. Maybe tomorrow." "OK," Barbara replied, "Maybe tomorrow, but I said party with us, not come to a party. See you later." What did all of that mean? Somehow, I don't quite remember how, I got to our room. It was bright with the setting sun flooding in, and I was very alone. I went to the door leading to our balcony, wondering what exactly was happening with Helen. Living a story? Would she be making some of it up, @@@@ would it all be real? How could I wait? I wanted her back, right now! My gaze, empty and unfocused, was drawn to the opposite hotel wing. A floor lower and directly across, a door was opening to the balcony. Helen stepped out, carrying a flute of what was probably champagne. Helen? She stepped out alone. I opened the sliding door but stayed in stark shadows, and reached for our binoculars. Helen walked to the rail, leaned out, obviously enjoying the view of the ocean, but didn't seem to see me. Oh, it was sunset - you couldn't see anything on this wing because of the reflections and glare. What was going on? Where was Michael? My mind was racing. "What the hell?" I wondered, raising the binoculars, focusing them, and looking again. 10 by 75 binoculars brought her so close, like she was across the room, instead of across the courtyard. Then I heard a voice from the balcony just above mine. "Stan, look there. Isn't that Al's Helen from downstairs?" It was Barbara's voice: their room must be right over ours. In a moment I heard Stan: "God, it looks just like her. Let me get our telescope." A few seconds passed. "Damn, it is her. I thought their room was on this wing. Didn't Al come up the elevator -- oh, he must have walked over there. She is one beautiful woman. Boy, I'd like to. . ." And Barbara's voice interrupted: "I know what you'd like to do to her, Stan." "Wait a minute - look at that!" Michael came into view, and walked behind Helen. "That's not Al, honey, that's not their room," Stan said. "Why's she there? Maybe they know him from the mainland." Michael was wearing one of the terrycloth robes the hotel left in every room. He walked right up behind my wife, his body language confident, put an arm on each side of her, holding the rail, and probably moved very close. Helen tilted her head back, and moved back a little to meet him, moving against Michael the same way she moved against me yesterday - she was rubbing her ass into his groin! Our friends on the upstairs balcony were enjoying themselves. "Look at that! She's coming on to him! It's some kind of seduction game she's playing! Wait'll Al comes out." I watched one of her hands reach up, caress his check, and her mouth utter a few words. He lowered his head, obviously kissing her neck - she extended it in that way of hers, and brought her arm over her head so that she could pull her hair back, exposing it for him. That was an incredibly sexy gesture. It suggested pleasures, not inhibitions, were on her mind. "Look at that! I don't think Al's there, I think they play the same games we do. This is gonna go all the way, I can tell!" Stan said. "Oh, man." Michael's hands left the rail, and now were on her stomach, pressing her back to him, and her hands were on his, helping him hold her. I remembered a couple of days ago when we stood like that, and I was in her! In a moment Michael moved, backing her a step away from the rail. The audience upstairs were really liking this. "Shit, Barbara, look at that! She's getting me so hard!" I could see Michael kissing her neck, and then noticed one of his hands at her hip. Her hand went to help Michael's. She released the sarong button there, to make access easier. He undid the sash, and as it fell his hand disappeared under the side panel of her sarong, about stomach high. "Stan, he has his hand under her dress!" "Give me the telescope, Helen, I have something else for you to hole," Stan said. And I watched Michael talking to her, and her, to him, for a minute. What was going on, I wanted, needed, to know. Then I saw Michael's hand, under the wrap, move in to the elbow: it had to be on her left hip! The two of them were still facing the railing, her own hand on her right hip, his on her left under her wrap. What was going on? Then her hand went back to his cheek, and held his head against her shoulder. He was saying something to her, as his hand, under the wrap, moved again, across her hip, to her belly, and down a little. "Give me the 'scope, Stan, it's my turn. You can't have all the fun!" "Only if you touch me, Barbara -- yes, like that." Helen stood a little taller, and there, through the railing, at her feet, I saw her bikini bottoms. I remembered they fastened on her hips with ties! They used to be fastened there, at least -- Helen had invited this Michael, this stranger, to remove them. "Stan, could you see that? He took her bikini off. She's bare-assed under that thing!" Helen turned to face Michael so that his hand came out from under the wrap, and instead he embraced her, while she again stood taller to kiss him. But he bent down, and with a hand across her back at her shoulders, and the other behind her knees, he lifted her, in his arms, while the kiss continued. As he stood up, I could see the robe Michael was wearing had opened, and as he lifted Helen his own legs, groin, and erect penis were displayed under her. He was naked under the robe. Her sarong, fastened only at the neck, opened it was captured by his hand on her back, but opened to there, showing a foot, leg, hip, and side, all nude, and I knew as Michael looked down at this woman in his arms he saw more than just that. "Quick, look, Stan!" I fought to catch my breath as Michael turned, flashing a view along her body, then, still carrying Helen, still kissing her, moved back into the room, leaving the balcony, leaving those white bikini bottoms behind, no longer needed, no longer protecting her, the treasure they covered now exposed, soon to be used. "Barbara, she's all naked down below, all she has on is her top. That's not gonna stay on long. And did you see the size of his boner? She's going to fuck that guy right now! Come here. I gotta get in you before I explode!" "Me too. Hurry!" There was no more to see, but a lot to imagine. I spent an hour on the bad, on my back, thinking, wondering, what was happening now, but I knew, I was sure I knew. The noises from the upstairs balcony provided the audio to what to the scenes flashing in my mind, scenes from across the courtyard. I started to masturbate, then stopped, wanting my erection in her, wanting to ejaculate in her, not into a tissue, wanting her there, with me, with a story, a new story, a story about what she just did. The sun set, darkness fell. It gets dark suddenly here, from light to dark in moments, like my mood had gone from high to low, just as quickly. It had only been two hours since Helen left the lounge, left to get material for the story I wanted, that she wanted, left to have sex, to make me cuckolded, and a voyeur. She didn't know that I could see her, or that Barbara and Stan could. Or, the thought suddenly burst on me --maybe she did know I could see! At last the door to our suite opened, and Helen, hair messed, came in. "Are you asleep?" "Of course not." "Are you mad?" Well, yeah, I was, and excited, and upset, but I couldn't let her know about the negative feelings I had. I encouraged her: dared, even double dared, her, to do that, to do Michael. "No, but I am excited. I saw you on his balcony. What was that all about?" "My God, you could see?" "Some, yeah, but not the good parts. Tell me what happened." She broke into a huge smile, and spun like a little girl. "It was so sexy!" She sat beside the bed. "I'll tell you everything. It so much fun, even better than Haroldo. It was like I could do anything I wanted because you wanted me to, and we were so far from home." "While we were going up in the elevator, he kissed me, and he really needed a shave. Look how red my chin got when he did that." I did, it was. "So I told him, I said 'You told me you were the greatest Irish lover in all written history, and even before writing was invented, and how you're sung about in convents, Michael, but you should know you don't get to kiss the fair lass if your beard is going to scratch her face.' I wanted to be as glib as he was. And he said 'Lassie, to kiss you for a minute I'd shave for an hour, I'd pull whiskers out one by one slowly, I'd use a power sander on my face, I'd buff and polish my face until it was as smooth as glass, I'd. . .' and the only way I could make him stop talking was to kiss him again." "As soon as we got to the room he poured me a glass of bubblie, and told me to make myself comfortable, while he shaved. "I went out on the balcony while he was in the bathroom. "I was surprised when he came out, he came behind me so quietly I didn't know he was there until he had me trapped by the rail. "So I reached up and felt his cheek. It was so smooth, and he smelled so nice from after shave. "He wanted to know if it was OK to kiss me seriously then and I said yes. So, he started to kiss my neck, and I backed into him the way you like me to back into you, and sort of moved around a little. That really got him excited: me, too. He was the first man to kiss me like that since you and I got serious about each other twelve years ago. Did you see that?" "I saw him do that, and the way you moved your hair out of the way - that was so sexy." The other feelings I had were gone, now I was just full of erotic thoughts. Helen continued "It was sexy for me, too. He was holding me against him, then, did you see that?" "Yeah, and then I saw. . ." "Yeah, him putting his hand under my wrap on my belly. I loved that, it was so erotic, that new hand touching me there. You say when I touch you it's like electricity - so was his touch." "But then he slipped his hand down, and he touched my bikini bottoms. He was so funny!" "What do you mean?" "He said something like 'Oh, lassie, lassie, don't you know that panties under a dress like this are a great hindrance to the world's greatest lover. America hasn't taught you anything. We lovers from the Emerald Isle can't fight these things. My day, maybe the rest of my life, is ruined. Oh, woe.' "And I said 'Michael, you can't possibly be the world's greatest lover, or even the second greatest, maybe you're not even in the top ten if you think those are panties.'" "And he said 'No, No, tell me it isn't a chastity belt, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?' "I told him they were bikini bottoms." "He said it still seemed like the end to romance in his lifetime, that he'd become a priest, or maybe gay, until I told him they weren't locked on or anything. " 'What's a man to do,' he wanted to know, and I told him to get his hand off my belly and get it to my hip. "He slid his fingers along them to my hip." "'What's this I feel, lassie?' he asked me, as if he didn't know. "I told him 'They're tied there, Michael, that's a bow. The world's greatest lover can handle a bow, can't he?" "He could, and I think my bottoms are still on his balcony." "Then I turned to kiss him. Honey, his robe opened. He was naked under it! He undressed in the bathroom after he shaved. "Then he just picked me up and carried me inside." I remembered that, the image was burned into my brain. "That's all I saw. What happened next?" "He put me on the bed, and lay down beside me, and he was hugging me and kissing me, and I was hugging and kissing back. I didn't know what to do next. "We were like this." She lay beside me so our arms were around each other. "Then, he put his hand on my knee and pulled it over his hip. Go on, do that." I did. "Then he reached over my hip -go on, do it - until he was touching me -oh! - like that, from behind. I was so wet, and so excited, I felt like a whore. "He touched me for the longest time, honey, and it felt so good, and then he said something like 'Lassie, lassie, you feel so good, I have to see that and taste it, too." "And he rolled me onto my back, and figured out about the last button on my beach wrap, and got that open. "And he just opened it, so I was there, wearing only the bikini top. "'Lassie, these kinds of things would ruin a lesser man, but I'll forgive you wearing that damnable thing if you take it off right now.'' "So I sat up, and took it off for him, and lay back down. "Come on, Al, you know how to get this wrap off. Do it." I did. "No top or bottom! Does he have both?" "Yeah, I have more of those, and he wanted a reminder of me." "Then he started kissing my body. You do that now." I bent to her breasts, took one in my mouth as she put her hand under it, lifting it for me, to me. "What am I smelling?" "His aftershave lotion. Oh, you do that better than he did." By now, I was working his way lower, until I got to her pubic hair. "I smell lotion here, too!" "You should." She had my head in both hands, and pulled me higher. "You'd smell it lower, too, but I don't want your mouth there. I want your cock there." She got it there in an instant. "Did you go down on him, Helen?" "No, he wanted to be in me right away. Right after his mouth was there, his penis was, too." THAT did it: instant orgasm! Afterwards, as we lay there, in each other's arms, Helen told the rest of the story. "Al, Michael is, at heart, a really sweet man." "What do you mean?" "He held me like this, too, after. . ." "What happened then?" "He said 'You know, Lassie, there are some who say - not many, mind you - that sometimes I exaggerate just a little from time to time.'" "I wanted to keep things in the same light mood, so I said 'I don't believe that about you, Michael'. "But he wouldn't shut up. He said 'This isn't an exaggeration. I'll remember you until the day I die.'" "I started to say something, I wanted to keep the mood light and fun, but he said 'Shhhhh a minute'." "He pulled on his robe and went to the closet, and got out a uniform. I asked him what kind of a uniform it was while he was busy doing something with it, and he said he was kind of a bus driver. I said 'Bus driver? Here on Hawaii?' and he said, 'More like to Hawaii.'"