Honeymoon Hazards by Ben Boswell

your battery. Send a text if you go somewhere.
    Through the binoculars I saw her glance at her phone and give a quick nod in my direction. Another round of drinks arrived and they kept talking, but without the audio, it was much less exciting. After a half hour, I was starting to get bored. I scanned the resort through my binoculars and lingered hopefully on the Newlyweds’ window, but they were not there. And there wasn’t anything really exciting going on elsewhere. It was that slow, late afternoon time when people in resorts are back in their rooms, showering off the sand and chlorine, and getting ready for their nights out.
    I hadn’t eaten anything all day except half a burger, and I was starving. I decided to get a quick bite to eat. I could have gone to the pool bar to keep an eye on Claire, but I didn’t want Annabelle to see me, so I stopped off at the café in the lobby instead. I ordered a grilled steak and a beer to refresh my buzz. As I bit into my meat, I was thankful that my stomach had finally settled down. At least that one thing was back to normal.

CHAPTER TEN
    My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Claire.
    --We’re gonna move inside to her folks’ cabana. Number 5. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
    Holy shit . This was actually going to happen. I was suddenly jealous. Did I really want Claire making love to yet another person? But I was also rock hard. A girl as wild as Annabelle would surely have experience with women, and she’d likely get a real thrill out of lezzing out my wife.
    I’ve never done this before , Claire would say shyly. A smirk from Annabelle as she edged off my wife’s bikini bottoms, burying her face in her snatch. Claire would arch her back, moaning loudly as the younger woman expertly licked her slit and teased her clit. The novelty of the experience would be overwhelming, and Claire would quickly be on the edge of a crashing climax, so close she would feel ready to burst… and then Annabelle would pull away. Not yet, you dirty little slut. First you need to make me cum , she’d declare as she pulled my wife’s face toward her own, moist pussy.
    I snarfed down my meal quickly and chased after them. As I approached cabana five, I noticed that the fabric panels were down and a “do not disturb” sign hung from the sash holding the opening shut. As excited as I was to imagine what was going on inside, I realized that seeing anything was going to be difficult. Even listening-in would be hard. I could only saunter by a couple of times before attracting the attention of the resort staff.
    I considered the situation and then thought back to my earlier spying. The cabanas backed up against a row of hedges that looked solid from the outside, but which I knew concealed a service pathway connecting the various bars and restaurants scattered around the pools. It was in one of those corridors that I’d spied Annabelle’s encounter with the waiter that had ended with her getting a load of jism on her face. If I could sneak back there, I could squeeze through the hedge from the back and peek in under the fabric curtain without being observed.
    If I got caught I would just say I was curious or lost, or curious and lost. At most I’d be told the area was off-limits to guests. That definitely seemed a risk worth taking, especially as I continued to fantasize about Claire and Annabelle, naked, intertwined, sucking, kissing, licking.
    I walked past the cabana. Though the thick fabric muffled most sounds, I thought I could hear movement, low moans. I approached the entrance to the service path, listened for a second for voices or footsteps and, hearing none, I ducked inside. I knew I had to move quickly; waiters, busboys, and barkeeps were constantly using these paths. I scurried to a spot behind the cabana, and dropped down and crawled into the hedge.
    It was a tight fit. I was in shorts and a t-shirt and the branches clawed at my bare skin. Leaves slapped me across the face and