Second Honeymoon

When Gerry and I got married, both of us had jobs but almost no vacation, so for a honeymoon we simply went to a resort near where we lived, stayed for a weekend, screwed non-stop, and reported to work the next Monday. We promised ourselves at the time that we'd do a second honeymoon soon, more relaxed and maybe at a more exotic location.

For the next six years we did well at our jobs, receiving promotions and raises earlier than we had hoped for, but somehow the opportunity for that second honeymoon never presented itself. Gerry and I were still madly in love; we almost never argued and the sex was still great. But I began feeling more and more that I'd like some more spice in our lives. Of course I didn't tell Gerry that, because I didn't want to give him the impression that I wasn't happy with my life or my marriage. On the contrary, everything was going great. Maybe too great; our marriage didn't seem to have quite the challenge I'd expected. We were both in our 20's and with both of us working long hours, we weren't ready for kids, yet.

Even though I hadn't said a word about my ennui, Gerry seemed to sense it; or maybe he just felt the same. One evening when we were both home from work and sipping our cocktails, he told me he thought the time had come to take that second honeymoon we had promised ourselves. He would pick the place, he said, but I was to pick the time (mainly because I had to ask for leave from work). He kept our destination a secret, to surprise me. The only thing he would tell me was that I should bring my sexiest bikini and I wouldn't be needing warm clothes or anything formal.

I arranged to take a week off, toward the end of the summer. In the intervening weeks, I did everything I could think of to find out where Gerry had booked our vacation. I even looked on his laptop once, when he left it on his desk while he went to the bathroom; but he must have made all the arrangements from his computer at work, or else he buried the confirmations pretty deep, because I couldn't find them. Clearly, I would have to resort to other tactics.

As the Germans in those awful World War II flicks used to say, "Ve haff our vays."

One evening, I prepared his favorite dish, made us both a couple of martinis and served the dinner with a bottle of expensive wine. By the time dinner was over, Gerry was clearly a little tipsy, even slurring his words a little. But despite numerous efforts on my part to steer the conversation to our upcoming vacation, he didn't even give me a clue. After dinner, Gerry helped me clear the table and we stood by the sink, rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. I was also tipsy, of course, having kept up with Getty all evening, and feeling frustrated.

"We are going on this second honeymoon, aren't we?" I asked.

"Of course we are; I promised."

"Well, you haven't said anything about where we're going, and I'm dying of curiosity. If I don't know, how will I know what to pack? For example, what if I bring my burka and we're not going to an Arab country?"

He laughed. "Well, first off, you don't own a burka, so I think we're safe, there. And second, what's the point of having a secret if I tell it to you?"

"So, not an Arab country? I mean, if it is an Arab country, then I'll have to buy a burka."

"OK, you figured it out: Not an Arab country."

"Well, that sure narrows it down. Is it in the Western Hemisphere? If so, I won't have to put sleeping pills in my carry-on because we probably won't be flying overnight."

"Not another hint. Not one word."

I turned to him, put my arms around him, and gave him a deep kiss. When we broke off, somewhat out of breath, I said, "You're so good to me, Gerry. I love you."

"Hmmm ...," he replied, "Trying to bribe the answer out of me? Well, I suppose I might give a hint, for the right inducement."

Without a word, I dropped to my knees and pulled down his zipper. "So, your favorite meal and fine wine wasn't enough of a bribe? How about this?" I reached through the fly of his pants, into his shorts and wrapped my hand around his cock.

"Well, it's a start."

"And ... how about this?" I asked, pulling his cock out of his pants and flicking the tip with my tongue.

"I think that might be the right general approach."

Gerry has a large cock, I'd guess about 7 inches long flaccid and at least 9 inches long when hard, as it was fast becoming as I fondled it. He's circumcised, and when he's really hard the knob flares out, which has its uses when it rubs against my g-spot. All in all, I'm quite happy with my hubby's equipment, but blow jobs are a challenge; it's all I can do to get my mouth around him. That night, I started by just licking up and down the shaft, giving little tongue flicks right under the knob, where he's the most sensitive.

His cock hardened rapidly. I put the big knob in my mouth and sucked hard, cupping his big balls in one hand while pumping the shaft with the other. I was getting into it, when I remembered what I was trying to accomplish, here. I pulled away from his cock and settled back onto my haunches. Still holding his hardon in my hand, I asked, "So, will it be an overnight flight?"

"That's not a big enough bribe," he laughed. "Maybe if you suck on me a little longer ..."

"Or maybe if I don't," I said, dropping my hand from his cock and watching it bob in front of him like a dashboard toy. A drop of pre-cum fell to the floor.

"OK, you've got me," he said. "An overnight flight, it is."

"Ahah!" I said, taking him in my hand again and squeezing another drop of pre-cum out of the tip. "So, Europe?"

"That's all you're going to get out of me," he replied, "Even if it costs me one of your fantastic blowjobs."

"Oh, baby," I mock whined. "Are you sure?" I opened my mouth wide and took his big knob in my mouth. As I sucked, I worked the tip of my tongue into his pee hole, then ran it down the underside of the knob. I felt his balls with my hand, then ran my fingers along his skin to his anus.

"I'm ... sure," he moaned, pulling my head toward him. I ran my lips down the shaft until my mouth and throat were completely filled with him. His musky scent made me even hornier, and I attacked his big cock, pulling back and thrusting forward so I was fucking him with my mouth. The smooth, soft knob felt good sliding along my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I could only get about half of his length in, but I had both hands wrapped around the base of his cock and was pumping them up and down the lower part of the shaft. I felt the familiar tingle in my crotch, and redoubled my efforts.

He seemed to get even harder, and was making little grunting noises as he met my motions with thrusts of his own. I could tell he was almost about to cum, and thought for a moment of simply bringing him off in my mouth. But I knew that after all that alcohol my darling husband wouldn't be worth much to me after he came, and I needed that big cock in me. I reached down to the elastic waist of my skirt and pulled my skirt and panties down over my bottom. Then in one motion I pulled my mouth off Gerry's cock, stood, turned around, and bent over, putting one hand on the counter edge.

"Fuck me," I pleaded, reaching the other hand between my legs to guide him in.

"Don't you want me to ..."

I interrupted him. I didn't want him to feel me up, or lick me, or whatever he was about to propose. "No, dammit, I don't. I'm so hot. I just need you to fuck me." I was now rubbing my palm over my clit and labia, building my excitement even more. My hand was slippery with lubricant. My vagina ached with desire. God, I thought, if he doesn't put that thing in me, I'll just cum on my own.

"... tell you where we're going on vacation?" he finished his sentence.

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean, fuck me, dammit!" I pleaded. It occurred to me that I had lost track of my original goal, but by now I didn't care.

He pushed the tip of his cock into my hand and I guided it into the entrance to my slippery hole. He slid in smoothly and started to pump. God, it felt good! I continued to rub my clit while enjoying the sensation of his flared knob stroking the entire length of my vagina, at one moment filling me completely, at the next, rubbing against the tender nerve endings just inside my hole.

I could feel the orgasm coming from deep in my center, radiating out, consuming me, my vagina on fire, my breasts aching, my hand moving ever faster on my clit. "Oh, God, yes! Yes! Yes!" I cried, as I pushed back to meet his every thrust.

The orgasm flooded over me, and I sagged against the counter. But Gerry wasn't finished yet, and kept plunging into me. After only three or four strokes, I could feel another orgasm building in me. Here it came, washing over me like a wave. My cries got louder and louder, and I think maybe became incoherent. I could feel my vagina muscles contracting and then I felt my clear liquid squirting out around the cock that filled my hole. Just as I thought I couldn't stand it, I felt Gerry's cock expand and harden even more. Amazingly, instead of dying out, my orgasm rose to a new crescendo just as I heard Gerry grunt and felt his hot semen filling me.

My knees suddenly felt too weak to hold me, and I sagged down, still holding the counter's edge for support. I wanted Gerry's cock to stay in me, but it slipped out.

"Oh, God," I whispered. "That was fantastic. I love you so much."

"Croatia," he replied, and we stumbled off to bed.

Croatia? I barely knew where it was. But a few minutes with my handy friends Google and Wikipedia and I was an expert, more or less. Croatia is just east of Italy; the two countries are mostly separated by the Adriatic Sea. Apparently one of Gerry's colleagues at work had grown up in Croatia and was continually crowing about how magnificent the Adriatic coast was, with its sun, beautiful beaches and crystal-clear blue water. So Gerry had booked a room at a little seaside hotel on the northern part of that coast, near the border with Slovenia. My vacation time finally came, and we flew overnight from Kennedy to Heathrow, connecting with a flight to Trieste, Italy. We rented a car, crossed the borders into Slovenia and then into Croatia without any difficulties, and drove down the coast to the little town where we were staying.

Our second-floor room was sunny and clean. It had, in addition to the king-size bed, a nice lunch area, with a round table and four chairs. The room had French doors opening onto a spacious balcony with a panoramic view of the Adriatic Sea, and a nice little breeze flowed in, stirring the curtains and cooling the room. Not-very-good paintings of Mediterranean fishing villages were hung on the walls. There was a spacious bathroom with a huge, old-fashioned bathtub on claw feet, in addition to the shower stall. I eyed the tub, which had to be at least 10 feet long, and thought about taking a long hot soak, but in the end I opted instead for a shower. I didn't even unpack my things, just grabbed my toilet kit, stripped, peed and got into the shower. Standing there letting the hot water course down my back, I could feel my entire body relax. The trip had actually gone smoothly, but still, I was tired of traveling and happy to be at our destination. The hotel was perfect for us; much nicer, in fact, than the expensive resort where we had spent our first honeymoon. Despite my fatigue I felt happy and, I realized, sexy. I thought with pleasant anticipation about Gerry and what he and I were going to do on that big bed. Gerry is a big guy in all ways, from physical size (over 6' tall, 200 lbs.) to his personality and sexual appetite. He keeps himself fit by swimming and bicycling. He has dark hair, combed back but with one lock that seems to go astray and fall across his forehead in a sexy kind of way. He's one of those self-assured people who does everything well and doesn't seem to care about it. Sometimes I think Gerry has discovered the real secret to success: throw away all the self-help books and simply live life to the max. As far as I could tell, he's never had any real career goals -- yet he had risen from lowest-level associate to junior partner of the hedge fund he works at, just in the six years we'd been married. I'm 5'6", slim, with firm C-cup breasts. My ass is a little big, but Gerry always says he likes it that way. At the time of our second honeymoon I went to the gym at least three times a week and played tennis a couple of times a week, so, I thought as I soaped my body, I was in pretty good shape, considering. I noticed that my nipples were erect from thinking about Gerry. I lathered my breasts and rubbed the nipples with my thumbs. Shivers ran down my stomach and congregated in my crotch. I rinsed my breasts off and soaped my stomach, causing even more delicious ripples. This was nice, I thought. A hot shower, thoughts of sex, and an always-horny husband just the other side of the door! I soaped and scrubbed my legs and feet, then turned my attention to my crotch. Sure enough, my cunt was slippery with anticipation. I stuck two fingers into my hole and then slid them up to my clit, pulling the hood back and gently spreading my own lubricant on it. God, that felt good! I returned my fingers to my pussy and did it again.

I pulled the skin of my pubic area up with one hand to expose the nub of my clit, and barely touched the exposed tip with my middle finger. The shivers multiplied and ran over my entire body. My legs began to feel a little weak. I leaned against the wall, my body warmed by the hot water running over it as well as by the sensations I was feeling in my groin. I realized that I'd gone beyond the point of no return. I felt the familiar waves of sensation spreading through my body, building slowly but surely to an orgasm. I put my hand down to my cunt again, but this time I shoved all my fingers into myself and pumped, my palm rubbing against my clit on each thrust. I fantasized Gerry's big dick pounding into me, and it was only a moment before my orgasm was upon me. With a moan, I succumbed to it. To sustain the feeling just a little longer, I turned toward the shower, pulled my outer lips all the way back and let the warm water run over my exposed clit. The sensation sent me over the edge one more time. After a moment to recover, I quickly washed up my sopping crotch, turned off the water and stepped out. Gerry was standing in front of the sink, shaving. I wondered if he had heard the sounds of my cumming and felt a little embarrassed. He knows I sometimes masturbate, and in fact we occasionally masturbate in front of each other, but still, I felt a little awkward. Then he turned toward me with a smile, and I could see from the big erect cock he sported that he knew what had just happened.

"Hi love," he said. "If you're done, can I jump into the shower, now?" "Well, I'm not sure I'm done, exactly," I grinned, "but be my guest. Want me to help you wash?" I reached out and stroked his hardon gently to clarify my meaning -- as if I had to do that! "No, that's OK. Why don't you wait for me in that bed? I won't be a moment."

I went out into the bedroom and pulled the covers off it. Then I lay across the bed, spread my legs and gently massaged my clit. Having one orgasm doesn't tire me out -- it makes me hot for another. And I knew that was what I was about to get.

True to his word, Gerry reappeared shortly in his bath towel. For a moment he gazed lovingly at my nude body. Then he dropped the towel and climbed onto the bed alongside me. His cock was now almost flacid, so I pushed him over onto his back and took it in my hand as I planted a long, slow but passionate kiss on his lips. Slowly, I ran my lips down his neck and across his chest to his nipples, teasing each one as I felt his cock grow in my hand. Still moving slowly, I slid down until I could smell the familiar male odor of my man. I breathed in deeply, savoring his smell and thinking loving thoughts. Then I moved to his cock and sucked it down my throat. He loves it when I do that. I held it there a little. Then I slowly pulled him out, sucking the whole time. It came out with a pop, and I licked around the head. Gerry moaned and a drop of clear pre-cum appeared in the little slit at the end of his cock. I licked it up, savoring its slightly salty taste. It was now hard as rock, and I could barely get my mouth around it. But that didn't matter; I wanted it in my hot pussy.

Gerry started to turn around into a 69 position, but I pushed him onto his back and quickly straddled him. I reached down, slipped him into me and eased down slowly, driving that wonderful cock deep into my cunt. "Mmmmm.... Oh, yes," I moaned. I rocked my hips, rubbing my clit against his pubic bone and feeling his cock moving forward and back inside me. Pretty soon I could feel my orgasm building again. I thrust my hips harder and faster, and Gerry grabbed the bits of fat on my hips, helping me thrust my hips and increasing the sensation for me. I was crying out now, almost out of my mind with lust!

"Oh, yes! Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! Oh, God! Gerry! Gerry!" I screamed as wave after wave of my orgasm passed over me. After I had come down to earth I rolled off Gerry's supine body. His cock was still hard, and I realized that in my ecstasy I hadn't noticed that Gerry wasn't cumming along with me. "Poor baby," I said. "Do you want me to help you out, here?"

"Actually, you can owe me one," he replied, kissing me lightly and rolling off the bed. "I'm famished. Let's get something to eat."

We found a nice little seafood restaurant right on the main square. It was only about 6 PM, early for dinner, and the restaurant was empty. The headwaiter guided us to a nice table with a view of the square and we ordered a bottle of local wine, which turned out to be quite good. While we were examining the menu, another couple came into the restaurant. They were about our age or a little older, fit, good-looking and smiling. We heard the guy asking whether the restaurant was open for dinner, and almost laughed out loud at his strong Southern drawl. "You sound like an American," Gerry said. "Where are you from?" "Texas," came the reply. "And you-all?"

"Wisconsin, originally. But right now we live in New York. Look, as fellow Americans abroad, would you like to join us for dinner?"

"Well," the guy drawled, "we hate to interfere with your meal."

"No interference at all," said Gerry smoothly, standing and holding a chair for the woman. She was blonde and petite, small-breasted and compact. Maybe an athlete, I thought?

"Well, that's good of you," she said. "By the way, my name's Sue, and this is Tom." She held out her hand to me. "I'm Andrea," I told her, shaking her hand. "And this is my husband, Gerry."

As Sue took Gerry's hand, I could see she was blushing. She was clearly having trouble maintaining her composure, and when she looked at her husband, they both burst into laughter. "We're sorry," Tom said. "We're not laughing at you. It's just that we heard Gerry's name mentioned recently ..."

I suddenly remembered shrieking out my husband's name when I was at the peak of my orgasm. The windows had been open and the other couple must have heard me. This time it was my turn to blush!

"We're staying at the same hotel you are, I guess," Tom continued. "In the next room, actually."

"Well," I replied, recovering, "at least you didn't hear me from the street."

"No, it wasn't that loud," Tom reassured me. But he gave me a very considering look.

We had a wonderful dinner, with two bottles of wine and brandy afterward. It was getting dark by the time we walked back to the hotel together, and, as frequently happens, the women paired up while the two men trailed behind. I could hear them talking about the upcoming football season. Sue said quietly to me, "I'm sorry about recognizing Gerry's name. I hope we didn't embarrass you too much."