The Dangers Of Flirting With Other Men On Your HoneymoonChapter 1 free porn video
What in the hell have I done?! It was just a little bit of harmless flirting. I just danced with the guy!
I'm on my honeymoon for Christ's sake! I was teasing my brand new husband, Mac. Well, that's not exactly true. I was miffed because he wouldn't dance with me. I was going to show him!
We flew down to spend a week in Jamaica for our honeymoon. We chose Jamaica for two reasons. We are both under twenty-one. I'm only eighteen. So one of the reasons we chose Jamaica is that we can buy alcohol in Jamaica. But the main reason is that a friend of Mac's family loaned us the condo. It was free!
We stayed around the condo the first day. We were exhausted as a result of the festivities leading up to the wedding and a seemingly endless day spent doing more waiting around airports than flying.
On our second day we got up early and ate breakfast at a neat little café in town. We put on our swimming suits and putted out to a couple of nearby beaches on our rented mopeds. We did a lot more making out than swimming. It was very romantic and we had a ball.
We headed back to the condo long before it got dark. The narrow roads are dangerous enough in the daytime. I would have been terrified if I had to navigate them in the dark.
We showered and went to a romantic looking restaurant. It was located very near to our condo and has a large deck out over the water in the back. There was a good mix of locals and tourists eating there so we thought that the food would be pretty good. And it was. So was the rum.
We started drinking and stayed around to listen to the live band. I was brimming with love and romance and energy and I would gladly have danced every dance. Unfortunately, Mac was getting tired and wanted to relax, enjoy the music and sip on his fruity rum drinks.
We didn't actually fight about it. But I was acting a little pouty. Justifiably, I thought. The music was getting to me. I REALLY wanted to dance!
It wasn't long before someone came over and asked me to dance. I politely refused. But as soon as he left our table, Mac said, "If you want to dance with someone I won't mind. You obviously have a lot more energy than I do."
Stupid me! It irritated the hell out of me when he said that. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I didn't think he should want to see me dancing in some strange man's arms. Not on our honeymoon!
Maybe I was just mad because he would rather see me with someone else than get off his ass and dance. Or maybe it was just the rum. I don't know. I just know I was suddenly pissed off.
Not long after that a tall, very dark, very good looking Jamaican came over and asked me to dance.
I hesitated. I looked at Mac. He just shrugged. I swear I wanted to slap him!
I smiled up at the man and nodded. He helped me to my feet and guided me to the dance floor. We must have danced for an hour. He was a very large man. Not just tall. He was very muscular. He was very impressive. And despite his size he was an excellent dancer.
When the slow dances started and he pulled me close I tried to keep my distance at first. But when I looked over at Mac to see his reaction he wasn't even watching us! It looked like he was watching some redheaded bimbo shake her ass on the other side of the dance floor!
Now I was really mad!
The next time my dance partner pulled me close I pressed my body against his and ground my tits into his muscular chest like a huge slut. And when his large hands slowly eased down my back to hold me close by firmly gripping the cheeks of my butt I just smiled.
When I glanced over at my brand spanking new husband to see how upset he was getting he still had his eyes glued to that fucking redhead! I wanted to scream! How the hell can you make a guy jealous if he isn't even looking at you?!
The next time a slow dance started and my partner pulled me into his arms I didn't struggle at all. I pressed up against him and smiled when his hands wasted no time grabbing my ass. I didn't even notice that he had danced me into a dark corner until his lips were suddenly planted over mine and for the first time in my life I was kissing a black man. I was so shocked that at first I returned his kiss!
It took me a moment to come to my senses. I finally pushed him away and shook my head to clear it. I told him that I was here on my honeymoon. I just wanted to have some fun and dance to the music.
He didn't look pleased. But he didn't try to kiss me again.
When the song ended the band headed for the bar to take a short break. My partner took advantage of the quiet to introduce himself to me. His name was John. I thought that was kind of prosaic for a man I was meeting in a tropical paradise. When I mentioned it he laughed and said that it was a common name on the island.
His name may have been ordinary, but I loved his lyrical Jamaican accent. I guess that made up for him not having a more exotic name.
We stood on the empty dance floor and talked for a few minutes. Then he escorted me back to my table. I thanked him and told him he was great dancer.
He smiled, but it was a tense smile. I guess he was still upset that I wouldn't let him kiss me earlier. I wondered for a moment if he thought that he was going to get lucky tonight just because I pressed up against him on the dance floor.
The funny thing is that if Mac wasn't here, newlywed or not John might have gotten lucky! I've never been with a black man but that tall, strong, good looking man with the sexy accent really turned me on.
Mac didn't even bother to look guilty when I rejoined him. The son of a bitch was so busy staring at that redheaded slut that he never saw the things that large black man did to me on the dance floor. I wanted to throw my drink right in his face!
He smiled as if he hadn't been ogling another woman for most of the last hour and told me he was tired and would like to go back to the room.
I was tired, too. I was ready to call it a night. But I was so mad at him that I just had to be obstinate. I told him that I wanted a last drink and maybe another dance or two before we left.
I could see that he wasn't happy about it. That pleased me.
He didn't argue. He ordered us both another drink. I realized that he was drunker than I was. I have been sweating some of my drinks off on the dance floor while he has been sitting there consuming more of them. It occurred to me then that my dance partner wasn't the only one that wasn't going to get lucky tonight. It looked like Mac was going to pass out as soon as we got back to our condo.
I sipped on my fresh drink when it arrived. After a few minutes the band started back up. When the hunk I was dancing with didn't return I assumed that he had gotten discouraged and either left or found a more willing partner. But just as the second song of the set started he showed up and asked me to dance. He was smiling as if I hadn't rejected his advances earlier.
I was glad that he was over it. I liked dancing with him. I got up, a bit surprised to discover that I was a little unsteady, too. He saw that I was a little woozy. He just grinned, took my hand in his and led me back out onto the dance floor. We melted into the crowd and began to dance to the fast song that was playing. I quickly began to feel better once I was moving around again.
The next song was slow. He took up right where he left off earlier. He pulled me into his arms, ground his large cock against my belly and maintained a firm grip on my ass. I don't know what the people around us thought of the suggestive way we were dancing. I just smiled up into his eyes and enjoyed it. I never even looked over to see what Mac was doing or if he was watching. I assumed he was looking around for that redhead again.
By the time the first slow dance of that set ended, my partner's cock was getting much more of my attention. I've been aware of it since our first slow dance. But it felt like it was totally erect now and I was impressed. I don't think I've ever met a man that was this well hung before. Not that I go around checking them all out, of course. But when it's rubbing up against you on the dance floor it's hard to miss. It felt like it went half way up to my chest. It was immense and he wasn't the least bit embarrassed about rubbing it against me.
He didn't try to kiss me again. But several times I started to feel a breeze and had to reach down and pull my skirt down in the back. I told him to stop pulling it up but he just smiled and slowly worked it half way up over my ass every time we slow danced.
I began to notice that when he did that I was almost always dancing with my back to a table of locals in the corner. He was intentionally giving them a show. When I realized it, I suppose because of all the alcohol I've consumed, I actually let him pull my skirt up to my waist in the back before I acted like I suddenly realized what he was doing and pulled it back down.
I've never been more of an exhibitionist than are most women. I suppose that most women have a little exhibitionist in them. It's part of growing up a female. If you don't like being looked at, if you don't like showing off a little, I think that life must be very hard for you.
But I'm not in the habit of flashing strangers or of letting other men flash my ass at their friends.
I didn't let what he was doing stop me though. I didn't get all flustered, stomp off the dance floor and return to my seat. I continued to dance with him for at least another half hour before I told him I was exhausted and had to call it a night.
He smiled, not upset at all. I was afraid he'd want to argue. He was obviously having fun and still hoping to get lucky. I was relieved when he just smiled and escorted me back to the table. He nodded at Mac who looked more than half asleep. He smiled and said goodnight to me. He even bowed slightly before he turned and left.
I took a couple sips of my drink and said, "Come on, Mac. Let's go to our room. I'm exhausted."
He mumbled something I couldn't make out and got to his feet very unsteadily.
I could see right away that there was going to be a problem. Mac was too drunk to walk.
He grinned at me, slurred something that sounded like, "Juz a mint. Gotta ress a mint."
Then the drunken so and so melted back down into his seat and rested his head on his arms on the table. The son of a bitch had passed out! Now what was I going to do?! I was tempted to leave his drunken ass right there!
It was at that moment that John returned. I assume that he was watching and he saw my problem from his table. He asked me if he could help.
I didn't know what to do. I was uncomfortable letting him help me back to my room. I was afraid of what that might lead to if we got back to our condo and he decided he didn't want to take no for an answer.
He saw that I was having trouble deciding. He asked, "What did you say your husband's name is, Jess?"
My name is Jessica but everyone calls me Jess.
I told John my husband's name. He squatted down and gently shook Mac.
He lifted his head off of his arms far enough to mumble, "Whadayawant?"
John smiled and said, "It's time to leave, Mac. Would you like some help?"
Mac mumbled, "Eyegun walk."
Then after a moment in which he didn't move a muscle he slurred, "Yeah. Okay. Can't walk."
It was out of my hands now. It had been Mac's decision.
John carefully helped him up and pretty much carried him outside. I was drunk. But I was sober enough to feel humiliated by all the people watching us and laughing. I pointed down the street to our condo and then led the way.
John started out supporting Mac, holding Mac's arm around his neck and pretty much dragging him out of the restaurant. As soon as we were out on the sidewalk he picked my husband up as if he weighed nothing and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. That way he could walk beside me and we could talk. I had just spent a couple of hours dancing with him. But we hadn't spoken much more than a dozen words. You couldn't talk over the loud music.
On the short walk to the condo I answered a few questions for John. He was just making conversation. He asked where we were from and how long we've been married.
South Carolina and three days.
We didn't get to talk much. It wasn't far to the condo and we were interrupted several times by people passing us on the sidewalk and making jokes about my husband's condition.
I was still nervous about inviting this large, black man into my condo. He didn't seem threatening. Quite the opposite, he was polite and friendly and despite the fact that he had spent a lot of time this evening holding my ass and then exposing it to his friends his conversation wasn't at all risqué. He wasn't saying or doing anything that was threatening or objectionable.
Our three story condo didn't have an elevator. Luckily, we were in a suite on the ground floor. Our small patio in the back opened up right onto the beach. I unlocked the door and held it open for John. He carried Mac inside and asked me where I wanted him.
I was about to tell him to take him into the bedroom when I thought better of it. I didn't want him in my bedroom. He might get ideas. I pointed to the couch.
John smiled as if he knew what was going through my mind. But he didn't say a word. He eased Mac off of his shoulder and stretched him out on the couch. He stood up and I thanked him for his help.
He smiled and in a teasing voice he asked, "Don't I even get a kiss for my trouble?"
I tried not to let him see how nervous I was. I smiled and responded, "I don't think that would be appropriate. I'm on my honeymoon!"
He countered, "But I didn't get to kiss the bride!"
I just smiled nervously and headed for the door, praying that he would follow.
I was more relieved than I can say when he shrugged and followed me to the front door. But my relief was short lived. When I opened the door I was shocked to see it blocked by large, smiling black men.
I inhaled sharply, preparatory to screaming at the top of my lungs.
I never had a chance. John pulled me into his arms and covered my mouth with his large, black hand. I could neither move nor make a sound.
He laughed quietly. Then he calmly bent closer and in his deep voice said, "I would like you to meet my friends. I believe you saw them in the club earlier when I was showing them now nice your ass is. We all agreed that you have a very nice ass for a white girl. We thought it would be nice to get to know you better."
He straightened up and lifted me right off the floor. I hung limp in his arms as he carried me back into the living room. I heard his friends coming in through the door, talking quietly and laughing. They were having far too much fun. What bothered me, though, was that I got the definite impression that they have done this before. And not just once!
I was so scared that I almost couldn't breathe. Mac was unconscious. Not that it would have mattered. These men could have easily overpowered him.
I was as good as alone with five or six very large black men and there wasn't any question what they wanted from me. I was about to be raped ... gang raped!
All of a sudden I was completely sober. I finally came to my senses and began to struggle in John's arms. He didn't even seem to notice.
He turned to face his friends. I saw their leering faces and I finally was able to determine that there were five of them, six counting John. They were all about the same age, somewhere around thirty years old. It was kind of hard to tell.
Except for one wiry guy that wasn't much bigger than me they were all nearly as large and muscular as John. They all seemed to have very dark complexions.
Mei
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