Michael sat staring at the pair of tickets in his hand, his bowtie undone and hanging around his neck, his gray vest and the top button of his gleaming white silk shirt unbuttoned, his suspenders hanging around his hips, and a second -- no, third glass of champagne sitting on the rustic tabletop beside him. Fireflies winked in the field outside. The string lights above the dining area filled the space with a golden glow.

It was two days since he'd walked in on Tamara, his fiancée, bucking wildly on her friend Aaron's lap in the apartment Michael and Tamara shared, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her round, tan ass rising and falling as Aaron's cock pummeled up into her. She hadn't seen him, focused as she was on the man she was riding, and her body had obstructed Aaron's view of Michael in the doorway. Michael took some sadistic pleasure in knowing that when he called Tamara later to tell her the wedding was off, she would almost certainly know the reason why...but she couldn't be sure. He sure as shit hadn't told her. He'd left the apartment as soon as he'd seen what he'd seen and heard what he'd heard, and he'd called her a few hours later to tell her she should pack her things and go home, because he never wanted to see her again.

But weddings don't just stop because the bride-and-groom-to-be have broken up. Certain things had been set in motion, and couldn't be stopped. The venue had been booked. The caterers had already started cooking. The cake was already baked, and decorated. The photographer had already been paid. And Tamara had already bought their tickets to their honeymoon and presented them to Michael a few nights earlier with a thrilled little smile and a whispered, "I think you'll like what I have planned."

Michael had never been someone to waste resources. He knew what the Sunk-Cost Fallacy was, but the knowledge alone didn't keep him from feeling like he should get his money's worth, not after he'd paid for nearly everything. So he'd showed up at the venue even though there were no guests. He'd drunk almost a whole bottle of champagne. He'd eaten the food. Thus fortified, he'd asked the photographer to take a set of ironic photographs portraying the innocent and betrayed groom, mourning the loss of the woman he'd loved, and the massive but less-important financial losses of the investments in the wedding itself. He'd progressed in the photos from being dressed smartly in his full outfit as the groom...to this. And then the photographer had left. And he was alone. Possibly more alone than he had ever been.

There was one more investment he intended to milk as much as he could, though, and that was the pre-paid, pre-booked honeymoon trip Tamara had made for them and had her parents pay for. He'd already called him, told them they should get their money back, but it was too late. Almost as sad and resigned and disappointed as he was, they'd urged him to take the vacation anyway.

Michael clumsily pulled out his phone and found his best friend's number from his recent contacts. The girl he'd grown up with. The woman he'd insisted have a spot in the wedding party, even if Tamara refused to make her the Maid of Honor. The person in the world he most wanted to talk to right then, even though their lives had taken them in different directions over the last decade. His oldest friend.

"Hey," he said when she picked up on the second ring, and his voice wasn't as slurred as he'd expected it to be, which was nice. "Sorry to call so late, but I have a question to ask you." He paused, in case she wanted to say anything. He was expecting some sort of sympathetic sound, the kind he'd been hearing from his friends and loved ones for the last forty-eight hours. Her expectant silence made him feel a surge of affection for her. She knew he didn't want to be pitied, even when he was objectively at his most pathetic.

"It turns out I have two tickets to go on a vacation to Bermuda for a week...and nobody to go with," he said, keeping his tone light. "So of course, when I was thinking of who might want to come along, I thought of my oldest friend first." He smiled in spite of himself, even though nobody could see it. "Could I interest you in joining me? It's already paid for. We would leave in two days."

---

But of course, he shouldn't have assumed that all Tamara wanted was a relaxing environment where they could explore what might change in their relationship now that they were married. No, Tamara's whole problem was that she didn't know how to tell Michael that her simmering libido wasn't satisfied with his more restrained ideas of lovemaking, and a certain timidity he still had left over from a fairly conservative upbringing. Tamara had booked the two of them at a resort that was designed to encourage sexual development between its couples, pushing them to try their limits with each other and to enjoy each other with greater intensity while learning how to express themselves in a healthy way. It had been intended to be a surprise. It would definitely surprise Michael and his best female friend.

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Hey, thanks for reading! I'd like this to be a longer-term RP where old friends become lovers after spending a few days in a sex-positive environment. I was thinking they would check in and almost immediately have a session with a counselor in which they were pushed to admit their attraction to one another. And then they could agree to try being friends with benefits for the weekend. But by the end of the week...they're lovers, with no going back.

Kinks to include could be touching, groping, kissing/making out, teasing, oral, fingering, edging, gentle corruption, gradual escalation, cumshots, creampies, facials, outercourse, handjobs, titplay, light bondage, and lots and lots of passionate fucking. I'd love to hear your own ideas, kinks, and limits if you'd like to write this with me.

Limits are scat, watersports, blood, illegal things, and heavy BDSM.

PMs only please, I don't do chat. Discord's an option.