Honeymoon Hazards by Ben Boswell Page A

railed by the football team since she was fourteen. But more likely, she was just what she seemed, a quiet, innocent girl, a virgin on her wedding night, but one who may have played with herself, watched a little porn, who’d tried sex and liked it.
    I suppressed a laugh and composed my face into a look of serious consideration.
    “Dale, being married is about communication.”
    I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth. Why was I giving him advice? Half an hour earlier, my own wife had been in the shower washing another man’s jism out of her cunt.
    “And it is about growing together,” I added.
    Looking him over, it was hard to imagine him growing. His poor bride. She was probably going to spend her entire married life wishing for a good fuck. I should introduce her to Trent. He’d probably make short work of their wedding vows, give the girl a proper, what would he call it ? A proper rogering , maybe?
    Dale was still looking at me expectantly, hanging on my pearls of wisdom.
    “And trying new things.”
    Like getting into voyeurism and wife swapping.
    I stood and gave him a manly clap on the shoulder.
    “I’m sure you two will have a wonderful and….” He looked the religious type. “…blessed union.”
    I grabbed my drink and walked out of the bar before I either began screaming profanities or laughing hysterically.

CHAPTER NINE
    Although I decided to make my way back to our room, I took the scenic route, visiting about half the resort’s bars on the way. I should have been livid, shaking with rage, but somehow the situation was too absurd for that. Had Claire really had sex, right in front of me, with a virtual stranger and then spent the night with him? It still felt more like a nightmare than a reality. The moment I parted from Claire, the sensation of reality had begun to fade. I reached into my pocket and felt the smooth silk of her panties, my only tangible evidence of what had occurred. But was even that part of some elaborate ruse? All I knew for sure was that I needed a drink.
    It was at about my third stop, as exhaustion and drunkenness were melding into a sort of lunatic detachment that I began to stop thinking about what had happened, and began thinking about what happened next. Of course I was going to take her back. Sooner or later, I would. So the issue was how.
    I was sort of talking to myself at this point, not really loud enough to make a scene, but enough to earn me a little more room at the bar. People were giving me funny looks. Had I been sober, I might have been embarrassed.
    I knew one thing I didn’t want to do. I didn’t want to go through the whole cycle of marriage counseling and therapy. I had a buddy who went through that, endless sessions about learning to communicate and empathy. In the end, it often seemed to come down to how the poor slob should have better catered to his wife’s needs.
    “Her need to get a big cock inside her,” I mumbled to myself, maybe a little too loud. A man two seats down edged a little further away.
    She’d humiliated me. That was the thing. The whole sex thing… who the fuck cares? I wasn’t Dale. I knew Claire had had cocks before me, probably would after me too if she outlived me. But I needed to get even.
    I thought about those father-of-the-year candidates who make their teenage daughters stand in a parking lot with a sign saying, “I violated my curfew.” I wondered if Annabelle’s dad had done something like that to her, given how fucked up she’d turned out. Still, I imagined insisting Claire stand in the lobby of the hotel with a sign saying, “I cheated on my husband on our honeymoon.”
    I cackled maniacally. I caught myself. I had to stop. Getting kicked out of the bar by resort management for public drunkenness was not going to improve my situation or my mood. I took a deep breath, and asked for Coke from the bartender. And a burger. I was starving.
    It then occurred to me that the easiest way to get even