Confession: I’ve Met The Best Lover On My Honeymoon

I recently got married to the love of my life. We had known each other for 8 years.  He’s the only man who understands me and pleasures me.  He’s great. I can’t wait to carry his child.

So, our wedding took place at this luxurious hotel on the North Coast.  It was like a grand family get-together reunion thingy, family members flying in from overseas.

That night of the wedding, I felt so honored for marrying such a great man, a handsome man, but at the same time, I was feeling so horny, I couldn’t stop jumpin’.   My husband had been spending so much time with his groomsmen and long-lost family members – it’s as if I wasn’t there at the hotel at all. I had been wanting my husband for the last 4 weeks even though we had been so busy – work- wedding planning-work – family etc.

It was about 11pm.   I had big plans for my husband; I had only my pink undies on while sipping a glass of wine. I was so waiting for him while sitting on the couch. I needed the rock and I was ready to climb.  I heard the knock on the door of our hotel suite.  It was his groomsmen bringing him to me.   My Husband was drunk as heck, his friends being only half-way there – drunk.  I hated them.

After nearly 50 attempts my husband was still too drunk, too tired to rise to me. I sat up in the bed, clueless.  He slept there beside me on the bed, a hand hanging toward the floor.

“Where are you going?”  he groaned.

“I’m going to take a pee,” I lied.

Within minutes, I had been out of our hotel suite.  I had covered myself with this robe.  It was the wee hours of the morning about one o clock.  I walked past the entertainment area f the hotel.  I knew he would have seen me.  He was there packing up.  I knew he had recognized me.  I knew he couldn’t stop thinking about me. Me neither – this guy couldn’t leave my thoughts.  Those light-colored eyes, half Hispanic, half African, Half whatever else skin tone.   Of course, the night before, he taught all the other guests at the hotel how to dance the rumba because that was his job.  But when this guy held my hand, the way he touched my waist it was as if we had become the same person but sharing different bodies.

I walked away while still reminiscent of that special dance we had the night before while my husband was busy getting drunk with his friends and family.   Huh!!!

I headed toward the beach.  I walked between the palms as I saw the faded moon casting this frail light-leak on the shimmery dark waters.  I was followed;  I could recognize his familiar tropical scent.   We faced each other.  How could not I fall for this stranger?  How could I not love the six-pack that his flat tummy sported?  Like a lunatic, I made my robe fall on the sands.  I was so perked.   I honestly can’t remember when we started kissing but I did remember opening my eyes seeing him munching and licking while I lay there on the white sands.  I must have been his chocolate dessert.  When you talk about a woman-pleaser, this was the guy.  I became so jealous of him and he didn’t even belong to me.

This went on for the next three nights – same time, same spot.  So, now, it was the final night of my honeymoon and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing this guy again after leaving the hotel. I needed one last lick – on last taste – one last lick.  So, I sneaked out of bed, as usual, went to the same spot at the same time, as usual, after dark, to meet my new lover.   And of course, someone was just waiting there for me as expected; well, not as expected…

… HUH???

It wasn’t him.

My husband had been there waiting for me instead.

How could this be, when I thought I had left him in bed?, I pondered.  I was totally freaked out.

*You can all blast me all you want for being the worst woman.  I know.  We women all have a dark side, a back story, but I’ve confessed mine.  I know you’re still hiding yours.

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