The McCain Marriage Contract

I felt really bad for Valerie, for all she had to see and go through in my hands as my wife. It was more than how I spoke to her, and how I avoided her like she housed an infectious disease; it was also the things she saw, or thought she saw, while we were vacationing in the Maldives.

I was tired of this sexless existence called marriage. I had a very hyperactive libido and now I was yet to get any action in the nearly two weeks since I got married to Valerie. There was no sex, no over-the-body action, no flirting even. There was only so much a man like myself could take and so I decided to call Camille. That was a bummer because she was not interested in my offer. She was interested in the idea of a vacation, just one without sex. So stupid.

I decided to take advantage of the fact that I and Valerie barely saw each other, to get some well-deserved pussy. At the same time, I was trying to send a message to her. If she was going to be with me, she might as well embrace the baggage I bore; it was all part of the McCain package. And if she still had any respect for herself, seeing how much I defiled our union would force her to leave, irrespective of whatever deal she had with my dad. Besides she was not a complete saint herself. She had no idea that I knew about all she was doing back then when we were just teenagers. So many things made it quite easy, delightful even, for me to mess with her head.

Vacationing in the Cheval Blanc Randheli Private Island was like dwelling in the very center of temptation. All I had to do was take a walk around and my eyes beheld a sufficient amount of astonishing beauties in all body sizes. People ditched their clothes and moved about in their swimwear, showing off their near-nakedness without a care in the world. And when they made eye contact with me, male and female alike, I was often rewarded by a sensuous gesture: a wink, a bite of the lower lip, or a protrusion of the tongue. I loved this game of cat-and-mouse, predator and prey; we looked at ourselves as if, one way or another, one of us would pounce on the other. The girls were way too sexy and I could easily pass for hot, so I knew that there was no way in hell I couldn't get at least one of them in my suite. I didn't care if they were married or in any relationship, and I didn't care if Valerie would see or hear us.

Back in my suite I generously tipped the concierge assigned to me to find three very hottest girls that night, the ones that looked unlikely to be depots for sexually transmitted infections. Of course, STIs went beyond face level but that was the best I could do without dragging so much attention to myself. My concierge, Hank, was to do this with the utmost confidentiality, and the girls were expected not to come with their phones -- I couldn't risk any scandal. Also, I made it a mask party so that I could have an excuse to wear a disguise. It was imperative that I remained unrecognizable.

At about 7 p.m. my shipment arrived. I was impressed by Hank's selection, especially by the variety. He gave me so many options in just three women -- slim, thick, blonde, brunette, tall, petite. I had hit the jackpot and we were about to turn up madly.

Valerie probably was in her room hearing the whole thing happen. There was booze, there was music and, of course, a stripper pole for my pleasure. The girls were great dancers and showed a deft mastery of the pole. They twisted and turned and twerked and I drooled just watching their ass clap. As they dance I sprayed clean banknotes all over them; they deserved it.

There was a problem, however. Nothing they did was sufficient to arouse me down there.

Me, Raymond Thayer McCain!

Try the much they did, I could not get hard. My magic stick, something I used to take great pride in, had lost all of its magic and just lay limp and useless in between my legs. The girls went on to take off their wears one after the other, teasing me with all the different movements of their body and giving me so many angles to choose from. Still, I could not do anything with the sight before my eyes. I just could not touch them.

It was not as if I did not want to, as much as it was that I just could not do anything. I wanted sex so desperately and, since I could not get any from Valerie, nor was I particularly interested in getting down with her, I had to release my sexual tension somewhere else. Solo action was not cutting it for me either. I needed help, and with the help the beautiful ladies proferred I could do nothing.

I let them have as much champagne as they wanted and I went into the bathroom to sit down, allowing them ample time and space to do with themselves as they pleased. Apparently, they had a lovely time with each other because I heard their moans and other sounds of deliciousness as they sought pleasure in their bodies. When the party was over I let them go.

I continued this routine with Hank every day. I assume that something in the first set of girls just did not attract me, and so every evening Hank would find me a new trio. I hoped desperately that even one would be able to spark something in me. It was fresh set after fresh set, attempt after attempt, all to get me laid like I was some wimp trying to lose his V-card in high school or college.

Me, Raymond Thayer McCain!

After days of trial without success, I had to go confront my biggest problem, Valerie. It was no coincidence that I could not perform when she was around. The girl had gotten under my skin, a lot deeper than I wanted her, or anyone else, to. I was angry at this celibacy she had unknowingly imposed on me, me that used to have endless booty calls. Most of all, I was angry that even though I hated this whole arrangement I wanted her so badly just like I wanted her years ago. But if I was to get ahead of my dad and figure out what exactly was going on, trying to get in her pants was not a wise decision. So the next thing to do was to yell at her until she told me what was going on, or she left my family entirely. Besides, with everything I was trying to hide it made a lot more sense if she remained the way she had been in our lives all those years -- nonexistent.

Before I let her walk me out of her room, I bobbed my head in for one last bit of annoyance. "Hey, what do you say I modify that nickname of yours? I was thinking to add Mc to it -- you know Vee-Jay-Mc as an acronym for Valerie Jensen- McCain. Innovative, right?" I said with a wink.

She looked like she would shoot me in the head if she had a gun at her disposal and I fled for my life. Some things never changed, like the joy I derived from teasing Valerie.