The number of guys telling me my husband to be was a lucky man was a real ego boost as were the number of offers of a last fling before walking down the aisle. Although I was polite and flirted back a little I had no intention of cheating on Rob. I loved him and had always been a one man woman. I’m 5 foot 2 tall dark hair and plump, my 36 D boobs are probably my best feature and I was wearing a tight low cut top that night. The sort of top that would normally make my belly look big but I had lost some weight in preparation for the wedding so felt I could pull it off. Lots of guys obviously liked how I looked as I was getting way more attention than I would on a standard Friday night out. I must admit I was loving it and really enjoying myself. At about 11:30 pm Helen led us into a pub I’d never been to before. It was a small bar and there were probably about 30 people inside. We all got drinks and sat at a long table towards the back of the bar near a stage which I assumed was where. This is one of those times I’d love to wrap my hands around her little fucking waist and smile at every one of ‘em. But I don’t, keeping a few inches distance from her as we walk. I know what happened last night, and I know she’ll come back to me for more. We get breakfast and start wandering through the best part of the island to shop for clothes. Chanel finds --and models for me, much to her amusement-- two new bikinis. I make her try on a white long sleeved rashguard as well. It’s skin tight, and with her long wavy hair draped around her shoulders, she’s every surfer’s dream. I grab her items, a new pair of board shorts and a rashguard for myself, and talk her into letting me purchase them. This was only after I agreed to let her repay me later. More like make it up to me; as I don’t want her money. We get back to the hotel, change into our new shit and pack anything we might need for the beach. Chanel asks me to help rub sunscreen on her back before we go and I take the.
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