The plan for their honeymoon was to do a road trip up to one of Maine’s coastal towns. Because of the mortgage, the wedding, and most importantly, their baby, they’d planned to go somewhere close. Jim had said he would do the research and book everything and Pam, knowing how thorough he could be, acquiesced.
The day after the wedding, Jim loaded their bags in the car and drove. Pam didn’t ask where they were going until they arrived at New York’s La Guardia International Airport and parked. All he said was that it was a surprise and she’d just have to wait and see.
And so when they landed in Cancun four and half hours later, all she could do was turn to him and gape. Before she could say anything, however, he held up a hand. “Wait…we’re not really at our destination yet, so you can yell at me when we get there.”
He was so maddeningly cheerful that she decided to just go with the flow. At least until they were somewhere more private so she could properly yell at him.
The “there” ended up to be Tulum, a small town almost two hours south of Cancun. But instead of heading straight into town, the van turned left onto an unpaved road. After another twenty minutes and a right turn, they were dropped off in front of a thatch-roof covered veranda where a young woman rushed out to greet them.
“Hola! Welcome to Copal! How are you doing? My name is Maria.”
Jim checked them in while Pam took that time to look around. She turned around when Jim took her arm and they followed Maria through an arch which led to an open courtyard.
They walked through the sand, passed cabanas and a wooden stand strung with all manner of bikinis and swim trunks. Noticing their puzzled looks, Maria just said, “We have a lot of honeymooners here,” as if that explained everything.
They heard the waves and smelled the ocean, but couldn’t see it. When they reached a small set of steps, the view in front of them opened up. Spread out below a small slope was the vast ocean. The colors blue-green shimmered under the late afternoon sun. The white, sandy beach was dotted with palm trees that swayed lazily in the soft breeze. The waves lapped the shore, as if beckoning them to dip their feet in the water or just let go and dive beneath the surface.
In unison, they turned to one another and smiled. Jim’s was much wider, as if thinking there’s no way she could yell at him now. She looked at him knowingly and simply said, “You lucked out this time.” He thought he did too, but in more ways than one.
They finally stopped in front of a cabana that faced the ocean directly. Pam saw that there was a wooden stairway that led to the beach. Maria told them that their luggage would arrive in ten minutes and gave Jim two keys before leaving.
Although the cabana looked small on the outside, the inside was surprisingly spacious, almost cavernous, with a tall ceiling. There was a high queen size bed surrounded by a mosquito net. A table, two chairs and a small cabinet, which she assumed was for their clothes, completed the furniture. Deeper inside was their bathroom, decorated with a mural tile-covered shower.
When their bags arrived, they started unpacking. By the time they finished, it was evening and the sun was beginning to set. Taking Pam’s hand, Jim led her down the stairs they saw earlier and together they sat on the sand to watch the sun slowly disappear over the horizon, in its wake was a sky painted with hues that couldn’t possibly be matched anywhere else in the word.
Neither said anything for a long time. Words weren’t necessary when she was leaning back against him and his arms enveloped her. Every so often he dropped a kiss on her hair and she burrowed deeper into him.
In another life, when she was engaged to Roy and planning their life together, they had argued about where to spend their honeymoon. He had wanted Mexico but she’d wanted Hawaii. But now, sitting with Jim, watching the sun set in Mexico, she remembered a quote from a high school class, “It is not down in any map; true places never are.”
Jim was her place. Their love, her compass.
His voice was a deep rumble beneath her, “Are you awake?”
Her answer was the tightening of her arms around his waist and a kiss on his chest. Soon, she was riding him, her hands cupping her breasts, his hands at her hips, slowly lifting her up and down. The tempo was unhurried, steady. Their breathing low, labored.
The morning sun shone through the thin gaps of the thatch-roof, swathing them in light, making her look angelic. But her soft moans, the way she was fondling her breasts and undulating atop him was anything but.
Suddenly jealous of her hands, he leaned up, nudged her hands aside and drew a nipple into his mouth. She leaned back and thrust her breasts up further, making it easier for his hand to cup one while lavishing attention on the other.
They were close now. The pressure was building and both desperately sought the release that only the other could provide. Needing more of her, he reversed their positions. She cried out when he withdrew almost all the way and sunk deeper, his hand reaching between them. His head burrowed at the curve of her shoulder, her hands on his back.
When the pleasure became too overwhelming, his teeth scraped the slim column of her neck, bringing her release and sparking his. Another deep thrust and he came hard, his shout of satisfaction muffled against her lips.
Her hands now moved up and down his back and into his hair while their breathing slowed down to normal, his face once again at that familiar spot of her shoulder.
Their idyllic week followed the same routine. They woke up wrapped around each other, usually with her head on his chest. Both her nightie and his boxers would end up thrown somewhere while their bodies became tangled up in one another. Their nights ended the same usual way, bodies entwined, lulled into a deep sleep by the night breeze and the sound of the water.
They ventured off the mini-resort and saw the town. One main road cut through the town, both sides lined with shops and restaurants and one lone bus terminal. They browsed the shops and bought a straw hat for her. Jim wanted to buy a scary-looking mask for Dwight as a prank, hoping they could convince him that it was cursed. When she teased him that he obviously missed Dwight, he dropped the mask in disgust, accusing her of ruining his fun.
Another half a day was spent exploring the beautiful ruins of Tulum, located right on the beach and not far from town. The temples and pyramids were practically white because of the ocean air and everywhere were iguanas, which Jim assured her wouldn’t attack. He sang a different tune when one of the iguanas sprang from a rock, landing next to him. Jim let out a scream rivaling any teenage girl, and, arms wind-milling wildly back, almost smashed their camera into the rocks. His scream startled the reptile and with an offending glare, it scurried away. She couldn’t stop laughing at him even after they left the ruins.
A lot of their time so far had been spent lounging around on the beach, him reading his books while she sketched. She would occasionally filch one of his books when she wanted to take a break from drawing or would simply lay there doing nothing. They ate when hungry, sometimes at restaurants in town, sometimes at their resort.
When it got too hot, they took a dip in the surf, relishing the gentle water against their skin. A couple of times he threatened to dunk her as pay back for making fun of him at the ruins, but when she silently dared him, he just laughed and drew her close, kissing her. He said it was because he couldn’t be too rough with a pregnant woman. She reminded him that that had not appeared to be the case the night before. Of course, they both headed back to their cabana so he could “rough” her up some more.
One thing that surprised her was his reaction to her in a bikini, especially since he saw her naked all the time and in other swimwear, including bikinis. She had bought a simple black bikini for their honeymoon and when she first changed into it, he had that glazed and hot look in his eyes.
He didn’t say anything, just sat her down at the edge of the bed and stood between her legs. Without preliminaries, one of his fingers dipped beneath her bikini bottom and straight into her core. He told her they had to be quiet because the guests could be walking right outside the cabana. Eyes wide, she looked up at him, not sure what he was planning. He didn’t say more, just fucked her with his fingers, alternating between short and long strokes, not letting her get used to any pattern. His thumb on her clitoris, rubbing the sensitive spot, made her bite on the sheets, wanting to scream.
She watched his other hand stroking his penis, his breathing ragged, and was unable to look away. But then his fingers inside her became demanding, strokes higher up in her and thumb circling, until she bit her lips and came. She’d barely recovered when he pulled her closer to the edge and spread her wide. He left her bikini bottom on, shifting it to the side. She’d suggested he take it off, but he’d said that he wanted to fuck her like this, scarcely clothed. She leaned up on her arms and watched. She felt him enter her slowly, gazing raptly as his penis disappeared inch by inch under her bikini bottom. The sight was incredibly arousing. It was as if that scrap of cloth shielded their most intimate act, but somehow enhanced the way he felt within her, huge, stretching her more so than normal.
They didn’t make it to the beach until much, much later, with Pam in a different bikini. She was sore, her body feeling so deliciously used.
The resort’s private beach was a “clothing optional” one which some people took advantage of while others, like her and Jim, didn’t. She’d jokingly said that she should go topless, just to see what it’s like and he’d said that he would too, making her laugh.
When he started applying sunscreen on her, she told him to untie her bikini so she wouldn’t have tan lines. She felt him hesitate, but he did as she asked. His motions became less economical and more sensual. His hands caressed her skin, lingered at the sides of her breasts. When her breathing became uneven, he leaned down and whispered that they needed to go back to the cabana immediately.
They would spend that day in Playa del Carmen, an area more heavily populated by tourists that was more appealing to them than Cancun.
He was glad that he decided to check out other options for their honeymoon. Although he knew Pam would be happy anywhere they went, he wanted her to have a honeymoon that she’d remember always. And he knew it was a great idea when she’d said the night before that she wanted to return for their tenth and twentieth anniversaries. He hugged her closer before they fell asleep with smiles on their faces.
Now as they sat and waited to board the plane for the flight home, he thought of their last ten days.
They did a lot of the touristy things included in their guide book but his favorite was doing nothing with her on the beach. Actually, that was his second favorite.
Most of their time was spend making love. Now that she was pregnant, they’d decided to not use condoms anymore. The feel of her when he was so deep, no barrier between them drove him mad. He couldn’t get enough of her. Somehow being in a tropical and relaxed atmosphere, no worries, made them insatiable.
One of his fondest memories was the day they went to Playa del Carmen. They’d arrived during the early evening and spent the time eating and browsing all the stores. They’d stopped to write and send some postcards back to their parents and included one for Michael because he’d begged them, telling them that he loved getting mail that wasn’t bills. After dinner, he took her to a club that, according to their waiter, was the most popular and most fun. There was a dance floor right on the beach and it was packed.
The music was loud and lively and everyone was dancing and drinking. He led Pam to the dance floor even though she didn’t want to. He’d said that it was crowded so no one would see her dorky moves. She’d stuck her tongue out at him and retorted that he wasn’t much better. They ended up spending a good hour there, dancing under the moonlight, part of the crowd but with eyes only for each other. When the rain started to fall softly, he’d taken her hand and was about to take cover, afraid she would end up sick. She surprised him by saying she’d always wanted to dance with him in the rain.
The DJ changed the music into a slow, soulful number and all the couples started dancing around them. No one cared about the tropical rain. He’d pulled her close and kissed her deeply and together they’d swayed to the music, oblivious to all but each other. When the song was over, she leaned up to him and said they should head back. He understood the heat in her eyes.
Once they arrived back at the resort, she took his hand and led him outside, down the stairs to the beach. The moon illuminated the water and the land and made everything appear magical, dreamlike. He felt like he was in a dream when she let go of his hand and took off her clothes, wearing only the black bikini that he loved so much.
Looking over her shoulder at him, she walked toward the water, a siren luring him to sea. All he could do was take off his shirt and jeans and follow her. The water was still warm from the sun, sluicing off their bodies as they made their way into the water until they were hip-deep.
She pulled him down until their lips met, tongues tasting each other, hands wandering. Hers dipped into his boxers, cupping and stroking him, making him groan. His hands swept under her bikini bottom, one finger finding her warm and wet and plunging deep inside, making her knees weak. Their lips were devouring each other, their hands driving each other mad. He leaned back and asked if she wanted to go back to their room. She shook her head and unhooked her top and took off the bottom, tossing it in the direction of the beach, telling him to hitch her up.
The moonlight made her soft skin impossibly white. He was unbearably hard as she pulled down his shorts. As his hands cupped her bottom and lowered her onto him, both let out a guttural moan, the heat of their connection combined with the water around them felt incredibly erotic.
He began that familiar rhythm, withdrawing and plunging, each time a bit deeper until his whole length was firmly inside her. Pam’s whispering how much she loved him, how good he felt, so hard and alive inside her made him lose his tenuous control.
He’d fucked her mindlessly. His cock slamming into her repeatedly, making her cry out for more, deeper, higher until a forceful plunge made her erupt in a fierce climax, crying out his name. He thrust into her pulsing warmth until he reached his own powerful orgasm, his shout carried away by the wind.
When they returned to their cabana, they rinsed the sand off in the shower. She was about to put on her nightie when he took it from her, saying she didn’t need it. Both got into bed and he turned her onto her stomach, his long body covering her, hands under her breasts, his husky voice whispering that they weren’t done for the night.
The day they checked out, they’d walked by the same wooden rack with the bikinis, and Pam saw hers there. In their haste, they never bothered to look for it. Embarrassed, she’d pulled his hand to walk faster when he teasingly asked if she wanted her swimsuit back.
Her head against his arm roused him from his memories.
He leaned down to kiss her head, “Tired?”
Looking up at him, she smiled and nodded, “Yeah…but in a good way.”
“When we get home, you rest and I’ll put everything away.”
Her smile grew, “You need to stop spoiling me.”
He didn’t say anything, just pulled her closer and looked down at her stomach. He couldn’t think of any reason why he should. She was giving him…everything.
Instead, he said, “Okay, when we get home, I’ll return the puppy to the pet store.”
Her sharp “What?” was interrupted by his lips against hers, “Kidding! Our baby will get to choose the puppy, Pam, not you.”
