We had drank a lot of champagne, long after our guests had departed, all except one, my husband’s friend George, who was staying on at the same hotel as we were.The plan was for us to depart the following evening on our official honeymoon, but for this evening, to stay on and be fresh for our journey.It was early morning and still I sat in my wedding gown, part drowsy as it had been a long day, but mostly drunk, exhibiting a naughtier side through my drunkenness, which brought laughter from both my husband and George, who exhibited an unhealthy desire for me to continually show my stocking tops.I was being titillated and turned-on by him, seduced within a short distance of our marital bed, my bridal gown remaining high on the side facing him, while my husband drink hard liqueur, I was toying with the notion of taking on my first adulterous affair, with a man in my bridal suite, who should never have been there, especially at the point in time, I was primed for sex on this night, and. Her hand reached up, slid around my neck and into my hair. ‘I want to make love in the rain.’ I was taken temporarily aback. This wasn’t like her. As far as we knew, we were alone, with no other people for at least a half mile on each side of us. It was unlikely we’d be seen, but there was always that possibility. She was a very private person. To potentially exhibit herself in such a manner went against what I knew about her. Still, it was these occasional breaks in that reticence that aroused me no end. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. I found myself stiffening at the thought as I stood there. ‘Yeah,’ she responded decisively. ‘C’mon.’ She grabbed my hand, threw open the door, and headed toward the rolling water before us. It was warm out, so the rain was pleasant. Within minutes, our hair was soaked and hung limply and heavily down. Our clothes clung to our bodies, revealing what we had on beneath. About halfway to the water, she stopped and turned to me. I was about to ask what she.
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