Julie had a terrible night. The wedding dress had cut into her and she couldn’t breathe. The migraine had pummelled her until the early hours of the morning when she finally fell into a fitful sleep. She woke in a fugue. The curtains were heavy and lined and let in no light. It took her a moment to realise where she was. She thought it was still the middle of the night. It took her another moment to remember that she was a married woman. She turned her head to look at her new husband, but he wasn’t there. It was ten o’clock. Why hadn’t anybody called her for breakfast? Some of the previous day’s misery washed over her but she refused to allow it access to her mind. She felt a little bit thick-headed but not unwell, the migraine had left her. Today was the first day of her marriage; they were going to Corfu later on their honeymoon. Things had got off to a bad start but that was behind them now. She was excited. She jumped out of bed, fought with the damned dress and wrestled her way over to the window where she flung open the curtains and let glorious, bright sunshine flood the room. She rang reception to ask them to send one of her sisters. She wanted a bath before she went in search of Phil and needed somebody to untie her from the dress. The girl on reception told her that as her family had to check out of their rooms by ten, they had just left to travel home to Barrow. Violet had left word for them that Julie had asked not to be disturbed. Violet had thrown her family out as though they were any old guests. How could she be so cruel? Not stopping to check her appearance, she flounced out of the room to either find her husband or confront her bitch of a mother-in-law, whichever came first.
The desk clerk stared at Julie, but told her that Phil had passed out and was carried to John’s room just before the guests began arriving for their breakfast. She turned from the desk. Everybody milling around the reception area stopped to stare at her. Sharon paged Simon Peter to report a small problem in reception.
SP strode in and without saying a word he grabbed Julie roughly under the elbow and guided her across the room and to the lift. It only took seconds to open as it was already on the ground floor. ‘What the hell are you playing at coming into reception like that?’ He whispered, pointing at her dress. ‘You look deranged. Who do you think you are, Lady fucking Haversham?’
Julie had no idea who Lady Fucking Haversham was, so ignored his question and posed one of her own. ‘Where’s Phil?’
SP had pushed her into the lift. ‘Make yourself decent, woman, and never come into my hotel if you aren’t presentable again.’
The front of her dress was splattered in vomit. Her hair had come down from its wedding arrangement on one side and hung in vomit-stiffened tails. Her makeup, that had been so exquisite the day before, had run down her face. Her breasts, having nowhere else to go, partially spilled out of the top of the tight bodice. SP was right, she looked deranged. As the lift rose, and in the tight confines, she could smell herself. She felt ashamed.
The lift stopped on the top floor. As she squeezed her size and her dress out of the small door, three people waited to get in. The lift stank of stale vomit. She sobbed and ran along the corridor to John’s room. There were other guests in the corridor, they all stared at her. John took ages to answer. ‘All right, I’m coming.’ He shouted as she hammered. She burst though the door as soon as it was opened. Gaynor was still in bed; she sat up and pulled the quilt up to her chin before curling her nose in disgust. ‘Bloody hell, you look worse than we do,’ John said, taking in the state of Julie. Phil was asleep on the small sofa. His shoes were on the floor and his stocking feet hung over the edge of the arm. He had also slept fully clothed.
She berated him all the way back to their room. Phil said nothing, he was tight-lipped and silent. As she struggled with the key in the lock he had his hand over his mouth, he gruffly uttered one word, ‘Hurry,’ and then he pushed past her and ran straight into the bathroom where she heard him retching. The newlyweds may not have spent the night together but the toilet had seen plenty of action.
She flumped herself down on the bed to wait. She heard water running and realised that the selfish man had jumped straight into the shower before releasing her from the prison of the bastard dress which she had come to loathe with a passion. The aroma of his shower gel oozed itself under the bathroom door. She heard him towelling off and then brushing his teeth. If only he’d unfastened her she might have joined him in the shower. She could have shown him how wonderful it is to be washed all over by somebody who loves you. She felt that cleansing him before they made love for the first time would be an act that was almost sacramental and if it was good enough for Mary Magdalene, she had no qualms with it.
Finally, he came to her and undid the multitude of knots that held the laces of her bodice tight. She felt her body screaming for mercy as inch by inch of it was released to spill out of its tether. He told her that he felt a bit better after his shower. She suggested that they have a cuddle before packing their things and heading out. And as he flung the cases onto the bed he made a feeble excuse to leave the room, and then he was gone and Julie was alone again.
She dragged the underskirts from her body and stood in front of the mirror in her wedding lingerie, a second whalebone corset that had punished her for almost twenty-four hours. He hadn’t even seen her underwear. The previous day, as she looked at herself in it, she had felt sexy and alluring, now she considered herself with a critical eye and realised that she looked ridiculous. Her breasts weren’t even contained in the cups of the bodice, she had rolls of spare flesh under her armpits and the areola of both nipples was clearly visible where the garment had failed in its attempt to hold her up. The stockings, stretched beyond their natural elasticity, held only at the two points of contact with the suspender clips. The rest of them had dropped. Far from coming up to the tops of her thighs, they barely covered her knee caps. And she had deep indentations where the tight elastic had dug into her flesh. The partial loss of circulation had caused severe black bruising around the dents. The feeling of relief when she undid the suspender clips was instant, she could have undone them the night before, but the pain from the bodice had been so intense that she hadn’t even noticed the discomfort from her legs. She struggled to undo all the hooks and eyes travelling down the back of the corset. Her fat arms ached and the effort of reaching high up her back and fighting with the fastenings left her out of breath, she had to stop and rest half way through. Finally, she was free; she stepped out of the French satin knickers and breathed. Her body had deep ruts where the whalebones had cut mercilessly into her, and she had gained inches of girth in ten seconds, but she was free. She ran a bath and lay up to her neck in bubbles and let the softness of the hot water ease the pain. She was glad that her husband wasn’t with her because she felt ugly.
She had dried and dressed in a simple pair of black trousers and a blouse when she heard Phil come back into the room. He knocked on the bathroom door and told her that they had to hurry getting packed and ready to go because his mother had asked them to join her and his father for a light lunch. Julie didn’t feel as though they’d been asked anything, she felt as though she’d been summoned and that there was no option of refusal.
In Violet’s quarter’s, lunch had already been served. Violet perched stiffly on the edge of a sofa, so Julie took the other end and aped her. She sat with one buttock barely on the very rim of the seat, the other half of her enormous backside hung uncomfortably in mid air and her thighs had to cling to the leg of the sofa for support. She tried to cross her ankles and twist her lower legs to the left, but they were too large to contort in such a manner. Julie comforted herself with the fact that Violet was no skinny, either and probably looked equally ridiculous. Phil flopped into an armchair across the room; he was still nursing his hangover and looked thoroughly miserable.
Lunch was eaten from china side plates, croissants and sweet and savoury pastries. Julie smelled the warm bread and realised that she was starving. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before and could easily have demolished the lot. She took a croissant and a small slice of cheese. The crispy bacon looked delicious, too. What she wanted was two doorstops of fresh bread, half a pound of butter, a bottle of ketchup and the full plate of bacon with two fried eggs on top. She made do with the one croissant and the sliver of cheese. She raised it to her lips and bit daintily into it. Flaky pastry cascaded down and sprinkled her knee and Violet’s cream sofa. She didn’t even look at Violet to gauge her reaction; she merely put the plate down on the occasional table beside her and took her chances with the rattling cup of tea in its delicate saucer, instead. They left half an hour later. Violet dropped an icy kiss towards each of Julie’s cheeks, while never making contact and told Phil to ‘uphold the family name,’ whatever the hell that meant. Julie’s stomach growled loudly after being tricked into thinking that it was going to get fed.
Donald drove them to Manchester airport, the journey was long and uncomfortable and very little was said. He repeated often that yesterday had gone extremely well and both Julie and Phil agreed with him, despite it being one of the worst days of Julie’s life. He and Phil discussed herbaceous borders and the predicted weather forecast in Greece.
At the airport she wanted to get some food but after a tour of every eatery in departures, Phil decreed that everything was far too expensive and said that he wouldn’t pay their inflated prices on principal. He’s also refused the in-flight meals because he’d once seen a documentary based around a factory where airport meals were produced. After seeing that, he’d vowed never to eat on a plane again. His principals were all well and good, but Julie was hungry and far from being elated at the prospect of their honeymoon she was in a bad mood and when she was hungry, she was nasty. Philip had control of all of their money, including the hundred pounds that her parents had given them. She asked him for enough to buy herself a sandwich and a bar of chocolate. He refused, saying that it was a waste of money, and that they were on a tight budget. She whined that she was hungry and Phil spent ten pounds on a raffle ticket to win the fancy sports car that was sitting in the middle of the departure lounge.
Julie had never flown before and was terrified when the plane took off. Phil was a seasoned traveller and held her hand tightly, telling her that it was fine and to just relax. He had taken the window seat and Julie had to strain her eyes, trying to see out of it to watch the earth slipping away from them. The in-flight movie was Shallow Hal. Philip said that it reminded him of her. He tried to explain that he meant it as a compliment, that you shouldn’t judge a person on their size. Julie didn’t appreciate the compliment and was embarrassed that the person sitting next to her smirked when he said it. In fairness she had probably taken up more than her fair share of the seating arrangements and he’d had to lean into the aisle for comfort. She was insulted by Phil’s remarks. When the drinks cart came along he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for him and a vodka and coke for her. She would much rather have had a sandwich. She asked for a packet of nuts, the only food on offer with the drinks trolley. Phil glared at her, but bought them anyway. They were tiny and she wolfed them down in three handfuls. They had cost one pound seventy five, and he sulked about it until they began to circle in preparation for landing, when they looked out of the window and got excited as they had their first glance of the island.
Philip was grumpy when they landed, and he had to wait with her to get their luggage from the carousel. He wasn’t allowed to have a cigarette until they’d cleared customs and were outside the building. He’d gone several hours without a cigarette and he was as cranky as hell. They left the cool interior of the airport terminal and instantly an unnatural heat, the likes of which Julie had never felt in her life, engulfed them. It was so hot that it took her breath away. Everything about the place, right down to the atmosphere, felt foreign. Julie loved it and was so excited that her former moodiness was forgotten. They boarded the coach and chatted with the other holiday makers for the half hour trip to their all inclusive complex.
Julie was devastated to learn that they had missed dinner when they checked in. They had finished serving half an hour earlier. The intense heat had dropped to a light Mediterranean haze as they’d travelled, and by the time they got up to their room it was quite chilly. The room was spectacular. Julie was delighted to note that there was only one bed; that would save any arguments or upset later. She saw Phil eye it with disgust. The bed was enormous and must have been eight foot or more across. Philip cast a hotelier’s eye over the room. He ran his finger along the skirting, looking for dust. He checked the light fittings for cobwebs and he checked that the wardrobe had the requisite six wooden coat hangers per person. Julie was entranced, everything was perfect and she couldn’t wait to sink into the deep bath before going to bed with her husband for the first time.
After contenting himself that the room met his approval, Phil went to the French doors and threw them open onto the balcony. He scoured the mini-bar and took out two bottles, whiskey for him and vodka for her with a mini can of Coke. He helped himself to the ice tray. Julie suggested that they go to the hotel bar instead of using the mini-bar in their room. She worried that there would be a hefty cost involved. Phil laughed, ‘It’s all inclusive stupid, everything’s free.’
‘Oh,’ said Julie, smarting over the fact that her husband had just called her stupid but again her mood was lifted over the wonders of Greece. Their balcony looked out over the beautiful gardens of the resort that led directly onto the beach only a couple of hundred feet away. They watched the waves lapping the shore and she felt a tranquillity and peace of mind that she had never known before. In that perfect moment she was truly happy. She loved the resort, she loved Greece and she loved her husband. Her stomach, probably thinking that it was never going to be fed again, had given up complaining and, far from feeling empty and uncomfortable, she felt a sense of not needing to eat every five minutes to comfort herself and find pleasure in food.
She looked over at Phil. For the first time in his life he had grown his hair to his collar. His mother had been telling him for weeks now to get a hair cut and was horrified when Julie had put her foot down before the wedding and had told her that both she and Phil liked his hair longer and that he wouldn’t be having it cut for the big day. He was looking out to sea and had a small smile on his face. He seemed happy but she wanted to hear him say it. ‘Are you happy love?’ she asked.
He turned to face her. His face cracked into an enormous grin and his eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Happier than I’ve ever been in my life,’ he replied. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too,’ she said simply.
‘Come here and kiss me.’ He leaned over and kissed her deeply, wrapping his hand in her hair and pulling her face in towards him. His mouth was wide and grinding and he pushed his tongue into hers when she gave a little moan of part surprise and part pleasure. His chair grated on the patio floor as he moved it closer to her and cupped her throat with his hand. He pulled his head back from her mouth and gazed into her eyes; his own shining with love as he looked at her. He picked up his glass and drained the last of the whiskey into his mouth. He pulled her face to his and kissed her again, gently drizzling the fiery liquid from his mouth to hers and chasing it with his tongue. That was the sexiest thing that he had ever done. She kissed him hard, wanting him so much that her loins contracted. She waited for the moment when he would pull away from her and make some excuse to get out of the room. She would let him go and would take to the bed alone. Then she would pleasure herself thinking of the moment when he spat whiskey from his mouth into hers, she’d make the rest of the scenario up until she released the need inside her onto her own fingers. She was so turned on and the months of waiting for Philip to make love to her had left her wanting. Despite being married for only twenty-four hours she doubted that her husband would ever make love to her.
Philip didn’t pull away. He kissed her harder. His breathing altered and became laboured, but Julie had been here before. He often got breathy and sometimes she’d even felt his erection press into her for a moment, but at that point he always stopped and left her turned on and frustrated.
‘Julie,’ he moaned her name into her open mouth. He’d never done that before either. The word felt heavy and rich in her mouth. She felt a roll of butterflies turn a somersault in her stomach. She wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting a man before. Months of being deprived of any intimate physical contact other than a few kisses had set her on fire but she still expected rejection to come at any moment.
Philip lowered his hand from her throat. He cupped her breast. He had never touched her body before. He squeezed it in his palm and moaned into her mouth. He moved his head, kissing her neck, behind her ear and onto her throat. His hand left the outside of her clothing and she felt the warmth of his fingers driving themselves into the cup of her bra. She wanted him to take it off, to take all of her clothes off, but she daren’t move or make any suggestions. He found her nipple; it was huge beneath his fingertips. He rolled it and she almost screamed out in pleasure. She sucked the flesh of his neck into her mouth to stop her crying out and alerting other holiday makers.
Partly for balance she put her hands on his thighs. She stroked the skin of his upper leg as he dropped his lips into her cleavage. He kissed the cleft of her breast, his mouth just an inch from her nipple. She stroked him, achingly aware of his cock close to her fingertips, wanting desperately to touch it but not daring to. She just kept circling her fingers on his thigh. He grabbed her left hand and thrust it onto the front of his flies. His cock was there in her hand. He’d put it there. She could feel its definition. His mouth moved and captured her nipple, He sucked it hard into his mouth, for a second and then he roughly pulled away from her.
He grabbed her hand that was manipulating him through his trousers and thrust it away from him. He sat up straight, holding her hands firmly in front of him so that she couldn’t touch him. She looked into his eyes, the first sting of tears tingling behind her lashes. She wanted him so much and he was going to deny her again. But she saw his lust mirroring her own. He rose abruptly, still holding her hands and went into the bedroom dragging her along with him. She almost fell over the chairs. He stood in front of her by the end of the bed and pushed her onto it. He wrestled himself out of his clothes and stood naked in front of her. She could see her husband for the first time. She wanted him.
He helped her out of her clothes until she too lay, shy and naked in front of him. She tried to cover herself with the bedspread, but he pulled it back, looking at her. ‘What about the curtains? Somebody might see,’ she said. He told her to stuff the curtains.
And then he was on top of her. He lay on her heavily, squashing her and forcing all of the air out of her body. He didn’t attempt to give her any further moistening first, before trying to ram his cock inside her. She would have liked some more foreplay first. He couldn’t find the way in and grunted in frustration. She put her hand down and guided him. He stabbed into her hard and forced his cock right inside her to the hilt. It was forceful and hurt, but she didn’t complain and encouraged him on with little mewling noises. He had never made love before but natural instinct was telling him what to do. He tried to ride her but with every attempt he over judged it and his cock fell out of her again and she’d have to guide him back inside.
‘Slowly,’ she advised him. ‘Take it easy and it will glide in and out and stay inside me.’ That was better. He eased his cock in and out of her gently for a few seconds. As he learned how to control his movements while maintaining pressure inside her, he got faster again, until he was riding her hard and fast. She grabbed his arse and felt his muscles contracting as he drove inside her again and again. She was screaming out in pleasure. It wasn’t the soft gentle lovemaking that she’d imagined for their first time but if this was how he wanted it, then she wasn’t going to argue. It hurt like hell, but it was damned good. His balls slapped against her backside with every thrust and he was grunting with each forward stab. She begged him to suck her breast, but he ignored her. He was deeply concentrating on his own pleasure and she didn’t mind that. It was his first time and she would guide him to please her next time. She dug her fingers into the flesh of his buttocks and helped him to drive into her while she rose to meet him with each thrust, tilting her pelvis forwards so that he got maximum penetration with each stroke.
He jerked his lower body and rammed her even faster, she felt that he was close to coming and she wasn’t there yet. She tried to slow him down now. But he would not be slowed. He was sweating, drips falling from his body onto her chest. A droplet fell from his forehead into her eyes, stinging them and making her blink. She forced them open despite the sting because she wanted to watch his first orgasm inside her. He was crying out, grunting, and his backside was moving so fast that it was blurring. Then he stabbed into her hard and held it for a second as the first spurt of his ejaculation burst into her. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ he yelled as though proud of himself. She wanted to come too but she wasn’t ready. She wanted to get her fingers between them to manipulate her clit, it would only take a few seconds and she’d be there with him, but she couldn’t force his body up to get her hand inside. He thrust again and held his body against her as he continued to come in her. And then he flopped down on top of her, his cock slipping from its mooring. He was soaking wet with sweat and heaving exhausted breaths. She stroked his back, still moving her pelvis into his shrivelling cock and trying to maintain pressure against her pulsing clitoris. He rolled off her and turned on his side to light a cigarette.
She was at the point of no return, close to orgasm; her body was aching to come. ‘Phil, touch me, please.’ She wanted him to put his mouth to her pussy and devour her, but with his load already leaking from her, she would never have asked him for that. That was something that she only ever wanted to either give or receive immediately after bathing. But if he fingered her deeply she could imagine it.
‘What?’ he asked, looking alarmed.
‘Please, will you touch me just a little bit? I haven’t come.’ She blushed furiously, feeling like a tart for asking him to give her sexual gratification.
‘Oh, right.’ He moved his cigarette to his right hand and lowered his left onto the soft triangle of hair between her legs. She grabbed at his wrist greedily and pushed his fingers forward until they were pressed against her wetness and then she ground her body into him. She forced two of his fingers to enter her and let the index finger of her own hand fall onto her clit and then she writhed and bucked until she came long, hard and vociferously a few seconds later.
She looked up at Philip. His lip was curled in disgust at what she’d just done. He stubbed out his cigarette, still looking as though he’d swallowed something unpleasant and then he excused himself and went to the bathroom. First she heard him washing and then she heard him vomiting into the toilet, and then she heard him washing again.
She turned onto her side, facing away from the bathroom and cried herself to sleep.
The following morning she was quiet over breakfast. She nibbled on watermelon. The huge fruit bar was alien to her and she felt very cosmopolitan eating watermelon for breakfast. However, delicious though it was, it was hardly sustaining so she had a slice of toast with scrambled eggs, a rasher of bacon, a sausage and a small spoon of beans. Phil ate twice as much, and once again she was struck by the unfairness of life that he could eat one potato more than a pig and remain like a lat, while she only had to look at a chip to gain weight. She drank fresh orange, something she only did at home when she had a hangover. She followed this with a cup of even fresher coffee, it was bitter and way too strong, but just the fact that real coffee was on offer with this sumptuous breakfast made her feel like a princess.
After breakfast they went for a walk around the complex, it was vast and nothing like Julie had ever seen before. Within an hour and a half of breakfast they had a beef pancake each, cooked on a griddle at the side of the path, by an ancient lady who sat cross-legged and could turn out a pancake a minute. They found the small all-night restaurant that remained open after the three buffets, the a lá carte, and the three themed restaurants had closed. All of the day’s food wastage was re-fried, re-boiled or re-constituted to look like something else and was laid out for the all-nighters coming in from the clubs with a need to soak up some alcohol. Julie chastised Phil for not finding this little gem the night before when they came in starving; they could have had a nice snack in the moonlight. Phil said that it all sounded dodgy to him, he didn’t fancy getting food poisoning. Julie pointed out that when they’d had a roast at home they always fried up the leftovers and had bubble and squeak. The hotel had four stars; of course everything had to be done to a certain standard.
They took sun loungers by the juice bar overlooking the largest swimming pool. Every hour they indulged in a different variety of fresh juice in a little plastic cup. Julie creamed herself with suntan lotion and then smothered some all over her husband’s back and legs. When she asked him to turn over, he was reluctant. When he buckled under her nagging and turned he had a sheepish look on his face and an erection. He covered it quickly with his paperback and, given that they were surrounded by other people, Julie left him to apply his own suntan lotion, to his own front, in his own good time. She was flattered about the hard on, though, and thought that he was really sweet when his cheeks burned and he muttered shyly, ‘Sorry, but after last night, I can’t help it. I had one at breakfast, too.’ She couldn’t have had a better lead-in to the subject that she had wanted to broach all morning.
‘Phil, I heard you being sick last night. You know, afterwards?’ He was embarrassed again. He tried to blame it on the dodgy food, but they hadn’t eaten anything, and then the weather, but it was cool in the room by then, and finally he blamed the last throes of his hangover from their wedding night. She asked him if she disgusted him. He said of course not. He told her not to be so stupid, and then he buried his head into his paperback. The subject was closed.
They had a delicious lunch on the sun terrace. Julie had a salad that seemed to offer a million different dishes, with some potato croquettes and a piece of grilled fish. Philip had a meat feast. He filled his plate with ribs and beef stroganoff and all kinds of seasoned and sauced delicacies. Julie cheekily asked him if the food was arousing him, as it had at breakfast. He laughed and replied that it had nothing to do with the food and that it had been down to her. She slid a hand under the table and onto his leg. He stopped her mid-thigh, shocked. ‘Julie,’ he whispered, ‘people will see.’ He was shocked but didn’t seem angry. ‘Oh God,’ he muttered, ‘ here we go again, what have you done to me?’
For dessert Julie had a spoonful of lemon mousse and half a slice of pineapple gateaux, and something else that was pink and indefinable. Phil had more meat. When they left the terrace, the heat hit them like a blanket. It was fierce and she felt lightheaded after the large meal. She suggested that they go and lie down for a little while to let their food digest.
They lay side by side on the bed. Phil had taken off his shirt and lay in just his shorts, Julie wore a loose sun dress. She grabbed his hand and he intertwined his fingers with hers. She had never been so happy in her life. She was completely at peace, any worries from home had been wafted away on a Grecian breeze and she felt a new tranquillity the likes of which was not possible in England. Phil seemed more relaxed too and she thought that she might be falling in love with her husband. She lay on the bed with her eyes closed, listening to the swish of the sea.
She would quite happily have drifted off but Phil was restless, he kept fidgeting and he was stroking her hand with his thumb. The movement over and over in the same place was irritating her skin and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was staring at her. His shorts came to a point in the middle and he had the biggest erection she had ever seen. ‘It won’t go down,’ he said, sheepishly.
‘Well, we’d better do something about it then, hadn’t we?’
She straddled him and took the waistband of his shorts in her hands. She leaned forward and kissed him while he obligingly lifted his hips so that she could remove them. She wanted to kiss his body and suck his cock and then she wanted to sit on him and take pole position this time, but he wouldn’t wait. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and threw her off him and onto her back. Their lovemaking was a repeat of the night before. He thrust into her vigorously and came quickly, leaving her wanting again. This time he was more willing to finish her off by hand, in fact he was keen and forced his fingers inside her, two, then three, then four until she was filled and he was hurting her. She told him that he was hurting and asked him to be gentler. He was crestfallen but removed two of his fingers. He shafted her with his hand and stared at her face and then at her pussy and the flesh of her belly wobbling until she came. She felt the cream of her orgasm running down his fingers and into his palm. Immediately afterwards, he withdrew his hand and wiped it on the corner of her sun dress. He seemed pleased with what he had achieved and although he phrased the question in different ways, he asked her several times if it had been good for her. She lied and told him that it was fantastic. He asked if he was the best lover she’d had, and she answered him with, ‘Of course, you are.’
He left the bed to wash within a couple of minutes, but he didn’t throw up.
After that he was at her day and night. His sexual appetite had been awakened and he was starving. As much as she tried to inject some variety into their sex life, he bucked against it. He was strictly missionary and always in a hurry. His needs were of greater importance than hers and he didn’t want or need foreplay. He just wanted to get in there and come as quickly as possible, anything else bored him. He wanted the gift without unwrapping the present. By the third time he had stopped leaving her to wash himself, he said he liked the smell of her on his fingers and the feel of her on his Old Man. He didn’t like the word cock, he said it was coarse. That second night of sleeping in the same bed, he didn’t roll over and sleep with his back to her. He spooned her, wrapping one leg over her body and holding her into him so that she could feel his heartbeat through her back. At first she loved it, and went to sleep with her man wrapped tight around her. She woke through the night to find him lying on top of her forcing her legs open and his cock inside her. She was confused and disorientated. She didn’t know where she was, and in sleep fugue she tried to fight him off her, but he grunted into her neck. He was extra turned on by the way he had woken her and he grunted twice more and came all over the top of her legs before he’d even got his cock inside her properly. She cleaned herself up and when she got back into bed, his arm and his leg instantly came over her and pinned her in place. She woke again through the night. The bed was soaking with sweat. He had all of the sheet and his body was leaking like a watering can. Her back was dripping wet and freezing cold. She took a blanket from the wardrobe and wrapped it around her. She finished the night, dozing in a chair on the balcony. The sunrise over the ocean was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen in her life. Her husband was crazy with desire for her and her world was good. Phil woke at eight and dragged her back to bed for more sex.
During the holiday, they went jet skiing and horse riding. The jet skiing was great fun, but she was nervous of the sea. She loved the speed of the ski and the sensation of bumping on top of the ocean with the sea-spray cooling her from the vicious heat. But as much as she loved it, she was also scared of falling into the deep, cold water and was cautious when it came to turning. Phil rode well.
The man at the stables looked them up and down and said that he had a special horse for Julie, one with six legs. She didn’t appreciate this jibe about her weight, but Phil thought that it was highly amusing. If she hadn’t loved horse riding so much she would have taken her affront and left without giving them the benefit of their custom. They brought her a big horse and she had to be given a leg up to mount it. The guide expected her to be as accomplished in her riding skill as she was at mounting. Her weight did hamper her being able to vault into the saddle but it didn’t prevent her from being able to ride. When he asked if any of the trek wanted to break away from the pack and follow him for a gallop she immediately pulled her horse to the side. He told her kindly that it might not be a good idea as the horse that she rode was very fast and needed an experienced hand. She held back, letting the man gallop across the sands with two other members of the trek and then she kicked her mount on. Her seat was accomplished; she tightened the reins and dropped her hands allowing her posture to fall forward so that she was looking between the ears of her horse. The ride was exhilarating; the steady pounding of the horse’s hooves beat in time with her heartbeat. The sand flew by in a blur beneath her and the wind blew strong around her, giving the impression of even greater speed. She was flying and drew along side the leader of the trek and brought her horse to a steady canter, then a trot and then stopped. Back at the stables, the man praised her and she suggested that perhaps he shouldn’t be so quick to read a book by its cover, but he didn’t understand her. He responded by drawing her away from the crowd as they dismounted and suggesting that she join him the following morning for another ride, just the two of them. She politely declined and returned to her husband. She wasn’t sure whether the guide had merely wanted to make another few quid from her and was offering a one on one session, presumably at an elevated cost, or if he had been coming on to her and was offering more than a horse to ride.
They hired a car and drove all over the island. Philip discovered a love for sex al fresco and joked that he quite fancied being caught in flagrante. They took a carriage ride through Corfu town and ate in a seafood restaurant just outside the bustle. The next day they drove to the beautiful monastery at Paleokastritsa where they listened to the choristers at evensong. Most of the tourists were long gone by early evening and they found themselves in the votive room, a small cave away from the main courtyard, the room was set with hundreds of red votive candles which gave the place an eerie glow. She whispered in his ear. She told him that she could slip out of her panties and put them in her bag. She wore a loose skirt. She whispered that she would hear anybody coming long before they got to the cave. She told him how much she wanted him and felt him stiffen against her leg. He still had very strong catholic beliefs. He said it would be a terrible sin. ‘Lovemaking should be confined to the bedroom,’ he said hypocritically, after he’d taken her three times, in various beauty spots, the day before. ‘And then only for the procreation of life.’ Julie pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. She wondered how much he truly believed this crap. She could hear his mother in his voice and very nearly went off the idea of being sexed in the monastery. It was religious in a funny kind of way to her, too. She felt that being made love to in such a holy place would somehow cement their relationship. It would be like a blessing from above. He’d put his hand up her skirt. ‘But I want to be inside you so much,’ he said.
‘Do it,’ she urged him on.
And then he had her up against the wall. He’d lowered the front of his shorts releasing his hot, hard cock and he drove it into her. A trickle of ice cold water fell onto her back from behind her as it travelled down the cobbled stones of the ancient wall. She gasped as the coldness took her breath away. She felt the trickle travel all the way down to her waist and he rammed her hard against the wall. He was inside her and hammering into her harder than he ever had before. It was the first time he’d taken her in a standing position and he seemed to like the extra leverage that being upright gave him. She was so turned on that she couldn’t breathe. She bit into his neck, stopping only short of bruising him to keep from screaming out. He was grunting and she could feel that he was close to orgasm within seconds of entering her. This time, she was right there with him. She had gone from cold to coming in less than two minutes and the orgasm that ripped through her at the same moment as he came inside her was among the strongest of her life. It was all over. He pulled out immediately and covered himself. She went to the ladies to clean herself with baby wipes. It was the best sex of her life.
She found him at the cloisters. He had his head bowed and his hands lifted in prayer. Tears streaked his face. He lifted his head when she came and they walked back to the car in silence. He still didn’t speak as they drove away and they were half way down the mountain when he said, ‘You shouldn’t have made me do that, it was wrong.’
‘Darling, that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. How can that be wrong?’
He turned in his seat and snarled at her, ‘Do you have to be so coarse?’
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be flippant. I know that your religion means a lot to you, Phil, but how can it be wrong when two people, who love each other, come together in the sight of God.’
He turned again from the twisty mountain pass and looked at her sharply to see if she was being smutty with her last remark, but she seemed to be sincere. ‘But don’t you see? That’s just it. We were literally in the house of God.’ he moaned. ‘I’ve committed a mortal sin. How am I ever going to be able to atone for such wickedness? You don’t get it, do you? I am going to have to go to confession and proclaim my sin. Have you any idea how ashamed I feel? I can’t possibly go to our church, I’m going to have to find one miles away. I wonder if it would count, if I found a church here and confessed to a Greek priest who couldn’t understand me.’
Julie searched his face for humour, but he was deadly serious. She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but she knew that it was important to Philip to salve his conscience. She wanted to think of something positive to say, something that would make him feel better, but she battled her sympathy against the feeling of hypocrisy that surrounded the incident. He hadn’t been feeling his shame when he had her up against the votive room wall banging the arse off her. She opted to try and lighten the mood before the hand of God appeared through the fully white clouds and lifted them, car and all, off the road and dumped them in the sea. ‘I wouldn’t confess here if I were you,’ she said. ‘They’d probably take us out into the town square and stone us. I’m sure they’d take a dim view of fornication in their Votive Room. I’d take my chances in England and maybe say a few extra Hail Mary’s before you get there, just to work off a bit of the penance in advance.’ It worked. He grinned over at her and squeezed her hand.
‘You really are a minx, you know. You’re very naughty and a terrible influence on me. Was it really that good?’ he asked.
‘Hell, you betcha, it was amazing.’
They ate at a roadside taverna on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. The excellent food assuaged Philip’s guilt and he relived every second of their adventure in whispered tones. He confessed to her that it was the most exciting thing he’d ever done and would never forget it. On the way home he pulled the car over by a secluded copse and took her from behind over the bonnet of the car. It was a deviation from his strictly missionary moral stance and for the second time that day, despite being sore and particularly tender deep inside her cervix, she came in unison with her husband again. When he wanted her again in their room, after drinks in the hotel bar, she just wanted to sleep. She begged him for a respite but he nagged and whined and groped until she gave in. He took her on top, brutally, and she moaned and writhed and pretended that she was enjoying it just to speed him up. It was over quickly and when he tried to trap her in their sleeping position, she suggested she spoon him, so that she could stroke his back. He fell asleep quickly and she was able to move away from him and cocoon herself in the sheet. She remained dry and comfortable all night and slept soundly. That, she decided, was what she called success. Victory to the tired people.