One Last Honeymoon

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

Shona was sick of telling lies but the truth wouldn’t do her any favours.

It was best that Husband Number Six thought he was Husband Number Three. She preferred he assumed that Shona’s small but perfect body was a gift of nature. She hoped it never crossed his mind that her orgasms were fake too. And she did her best to have him believe she would love him forever.

Shona’s version of forever was purposefully short. One more honeymoon, one more sucker’s life insurance payout and she need never go through this charade again.

‘Natural causes’ was her aim – coronary attack, diabetic coma or any other lifestyle malady. A drunken fall overboard or slipping in the tiny cabin shower would also be acceptable. You heard about these things happening all the time on cruise ships. No one would suspect foul play. After all, her first two husbands dropped off the perch all by themselves, it was just the last three who needed a bit of a nudge.

Each and every one of them had been treated like a king from the minute Shona set her sights on them, to the second they parted from her, albeit somewhat sooner than expected. Shona thought it only fair she live the rest of her days like a queen, enjoying the luxury and freedom independent means afforded. There were no plans for a Husband Number Seven. This would be her last honeymoon.

“Have another slice of chocolate gateau, Darling.”

“Don’t worry about that …. You know I like a man with plenty of meat on his bones.”

“Let me sprinkle more salt on those chips…. It makes you thirsty?… Wash it down with another Pina Colada.”

“But you need to keep your strength up, Darling! Just one more donut … for meeee” she would croon.

And Number Six would always oblige.

All the ship crew thought they were so romantic.

They were obviously newlyweds – never seen apart from each other, she always feeding him titbits, he indulging her every whim. Constantly touching each other, little smacks on the aft, sneaky kisses on the bow, eyebrow-raising manoeuvres in the communal hot tub….the list of PDA’s was endless.

And the noises that came from their stateroom at any time of day or night left no doubt this was indeed a passionate union. Cries to an unseen deity echoed through the passageways, grunts and moans permeated the thin walls.

Shona had packed a pink satin bag of tricks to tease and delight her paramour including a glorious selection of seductive lingerie, little blue pills to ensure she never missed an opportunity to tax Number Six’s heart, and a black feathered switch to encourage maximum effort and enthusiasm at every encounter.

“Strewth, Love! You’ll be the death of me!” said Number Six, every single time.

Shona would smirk, and think to herself “That’s the plan…”

Their frequent bouts of lovemaking were legendary, if slightly disturbing to nearby occupants and hapless passers-by.

All the ship crew thought they were so romantic.

Halfway through the fourteen-day cruise, Shona’s thoughts darkened. Number Six, specifically chosen for his chubbiness and now even broader across the beam, was splitting his pants and bursting his buttons, but she wondered if the sexercise was counteracting the overfeeding as his health appeared uncompromised.

Maybe a diet was in order …. a sex diet … and then Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am. Abstinence followed by extreme exertion might just be her meal ticket. Shona had everything to gain and only a husband to lose.

After three days of copious drinking, Shona-induced gluttony, no physical exercise, and all attempts at intimacy gently but firmly rebuffed by his beloved, Number Six was feeling dejected and rejected. So when Shona graced him with a come-hither wink and suggested they return to the cabin, he jumped at the chance and attended to her with great vigour.

He probably didn’t even need the Viagra Shona had dropped into his Mai Tai.

For once, Shona let him skimp on the foreplay and it was only a matter of minutes before she heard those magic words.

“My heart, my heart!” called out Number Six, before collapsing.

Shona couldn’t believe her luck! It had worked! She lay still until she was sure he was no longer breathing, then struggled to get out from under him.

And struggled some more. His corpulence was proving hard to budge. She bucked her hips to dislodge him but that just succeeded in moving his flabby chest over her face. She opened her mouth to scream for help only to have it filled with sweaty podge. Frantically she tried to thump on the bedhead to arouse attention but everyone was used to lots of banging in that room.

No one came to her rescue. Her movements became increasingly feeble and finally stilled. Shona, too, succumbed to the passions of love.

That was how housekeeping discovered them the next morning.

All the ship crew thought they were so romantic.

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