Honeymooners in Virus Lockdown

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Seasoned globe-trotting playboy, Sean Lucas, stopped early into banging his much younger second wife (his first darling died carelessly from a drug overdose) and called, ‘Coitus interruptus’ and withdrew from cute Ruby’s vagina.

Ruby, who was rather unworldly and not particularly literate, which was part of her attraction to the professional travel writer, called indignantly, dabbing at sweat with a towel, “Why did you stop and what the hell does coitus whatever mean?”

Grinning, her handsome husband (41) said it was a very old term to describe withdrawing from fucking before ejaculation.

“But why? We had decided before coming to this wilderness location in this damn forsaken country called, um, called something…”

“New Zealand,” Sean said helpfully.

“Yes, thanks… we’ll try for a baby on our honeymoon and the thought of fucking with a purpose would give me something really worthwhile to focus on while you fish with oddly named artificial flies.”

“Yes, but look where you are, marooned in a remote area of wilderness raw beauty that even Mr Darwin himself would call nature’s paradise, because of the virtual cessation of internal and international travel, leaving us in limbo here due to the deadly virus sweeping the Globe.”

“What, because of that thing called Lockdown by the Government here?”

“Yes, and as I have already said, it surely places us at the remote edge of a coronavirus infection.”

“I’d be safer back in Chicago.”


“That’s not gentlemanly is it?”

“I apologise,” said her first husband whom she had known for not quite two months.

The direct pragmatism of Ruby, the way she naively trusted him and other people close to him, her eagerness to connect in sex because she bluntly admitted she adored being fucked into near exhaustion, and her childlike simplistic vision of life among other things, had compelled Sean to buy and thrust an engagement ring at her, thrilling Ruby Smith no end.

And why was that?

He’d asked that question, thinking it might be because his parents were mega-wealthy, and she admired him hugely, err probably, for being fit and good looking and marrying him would lock her into an exciting lifestyle and he’d provide her with clothing and beautiful jewellery to keep her up with the Jones’ girls of the word.

But no.

Simplistic Ruby cut through the bullshit with practised ease and said, “It’s because you have a beautiful cock and can use it so expertly that my eyes and my heart feel they are near to bursting and I’m on a ride to the moon whenever you bang me.”

Christ, little wonder he idolized her!

Although little of anything now surprised Sean in his very active life, the enormity and believability of Ruby’s reply really rocked him. That almost convinced him that she was for him, and once he found she was big into sport and exciting recreational activities, she loved swimming and skiing that were his two favourite ways of stepping away from the hard and wearing lifestyle, she fucked well, travelled well, rarely bitched about anything, and was a marvellous cook even under pressure. That inspired him to think of marrying her,”

However, there were two minuses: she didn’t like fishing and she didn’t like him wearing condoms, but they were minor things, really.

“I did ask several minutes ago why did you stop fucking me? That could have been the very time I was poised to become pregnant.”

“Yeah, sorry. I reacted instinctively Manisa Escort and halted when something big popped into my head. I’d realized that I hadn’t warned you that pregnancy could mean that we would be bringing a child into a very troubled world.”

“Oh really. That was rather bad timing don’t you think?”

“Ah yes, but I was being responsible.”

“What, you really do love me?”


“That’s almost a solid assurance.”

“Bitch,” Sean laughed, sweeping his fringe upwards while Ruby looked at his practically dancing green eyes.

She said firmly that he’d never asked her should they have children and how many had she thought of birthing. She’d said she’d answered his mother questions on her thoughts about children but perhaps his mother had not told Sean what she had been told

“No, mum said nothing about that to me but she has told me a couple of times in recent years that she and dad would like grandchildren and that my sister Eris’ uncertain life expectancy is a threat to her having children, being a TV journalist working in war zones on contract recently renewed for another five years.”

Rub said politely, “Sean, you have never said anything about fathering children to me.”

“You never asked.”

“I’m asking now.”


“Same as me, except I’d like to keep going until we had both a girl and a boy.”

“That could mean um having 10 births before getting both sexes.”

“It could.”

“Ruby, stuff has been written about ways to help pre-determine the sex of a child being male or female.”

“Good god, fancy that. Where do I find books on that subject?”

“Don’t bother going to the library to find such books. Go online. I’ll assist you with the searching.”

“Are the ways discussing the sexing ID, prior to conception, reliable?”

“Yes and no. You’ll find in many cases support or rejection of the various method and reject the ones you think are definitely not for you or appear ridiculous beyond belief. I wouldn’t mind being consulted on anything you decide because the thought of you wearing a bag of a powerful crushed garlic in your panties or between your boobs might seem rather obnoxious to me.”

Ruby giggled and looking out of the window said, “That morning mist on this occasion appears to be an all-day event. We should either resume having sex or shower and I’ll serve very late lunch with a bottle of something and we begin discussion whether we could bring a child into this world.”

* * *

On to her third quarter-filled glass of wine, Ruby with her natural blonde hair dyed for highlighting, with the strange choice of auburn colouring, ran her tongue expertly over her top lip delicately and said, “This very dry Riesling from Fenton Road in the Bannockburn area in Central Otago, I rate as the best white wine for me that I’ve ever tasted. As you know, my mother’s preferred taste was directed at fine teas whereas from the age of fifteen, I grew up tasting wines with my father in Victoria, Australian, where he was a wine competition judge and professional wine reviews writer for several international wine magazines.”

“Yeah, a nice drop with fantastic acidity,” Sean said. “But you know my preferences are Champagne, or lager beer prior to eating and a solid red with a meal.”

“You know Sean, when we arrived here in Southern New Zealand in the eve of a national lockdown aimed at preventing the rampant spread of the Manisa Escort Bayan corona-virus with immediate restrictions on travel movements and cessation of most domestic and international airflights, I’m left feeling marooned here at this premium-priced fly-fishing lodge.”

“Yeah, marvellous eh? Rugged and rising mountainous views and close-by diamond-clear network of small rivers the tantalizing view of trout rising at the water surfaces feeding on the nightfall emergence of flying insects, stated the website guff and yet, what did we see? Very little after 30 metres due to the deepening mist.”

“Being truthful Sean, I thought only for the first hour, that it was not to bad being trapped here, when touring the beautifully architecturally redesigned fairly recently built huge woolshed, converting it into a modern lodge and then saw our wing that had been the shearer’s living quarters left in its weathered cladding of rough-sawn vertical-timber slabs. I almost puked. Fortunately, when we entered our suite, we found it to be sumptuous with absolutely beautiful fittings and furnishings.”

“Yeah, all up our arrival here produced a mix bag of heart-sinking and then soaring impressions, helped by my experience of rushing out in the gathering gloom as soon as I’d signed for my fishing licence, grabbed my hired fishing gear and caught the second or third largest trout I’ve ever caught, on my third cast of a fly called Dancing Wings on the evening rise only sixty paces from the main entrance of the lodge.”

“I felt I was in trout fishing heaven until an angler arriving at the lodge from upstream, eyed my trout and said, “That’s a bit on the small side. Try your luck at dawn in the morning about a mile upstream from here sign-posted ‘Miner’s Laundry’, and you may catch a trophy trout. The bend is where miners some 150 years or so ago used to wash their clothes in the rapids feeding into the murky pool.”

“The guy raises cattle out from a place up north called Taihape and has invited us to dine with him and his wife at 9.00 this evening, meeting at 8.30 for a pre-dinner snort, that probable means a whisky or similar.”

“That’s very nice love. While you were away, a suited guy, probably the night manager tried to explain to me we need to maintain being in our ‘bubble’ and diligently practice social distancing, whatever all that means. He had a drawling accent and rolled the ends of words that made him difficult to understand.”

He’s probably from the hills, and now living in civilisation.”

“Civilisation here can’t be right darling. The receptionist said that here in Central Otago the region is sparsely populated with probably more wild cats than people per square mile in most of this part of the province except for the tourist towns of Queenstown and Wanaka.”

“Which are where?”

“I have no idea, Ruby. “But a good guess would be where the majority of people are.”

“Way, way off in the mist.”

“Yeah, good thinking Ruby.”

“Let’s go to our suite for protected sex, and then a bath for you and I’ll shower and get ready for dinner and while you are still in the bath wondering what to wear tonight, I’ll begin talking about bringing a baby into this increasingly rugged world of ours.”

“Will it be a lecture?”

“No, a discussion.”

“Right, I’ll hold you to that because I need to share my views, too.”

“That’s understandable and talk to me as if you were talking to your girlfriends Escort Manisa about it, holding nothing back from me and you do the same.”

“I really don’t know who your girlfriends are, not even that noisy lot who attended our wedding.”

“God, you can be so such a clown at times. I meant talk to me as if you were talking to one of you more experienced buddies.”

“None of my buddies are as informed about sexual intercourse the therein and thereafter as I am.”

“Sean, stop it. I don’t wish you to have nightmares about you becoming spooked into having nightmares about the possibility of me coming after you and swinging an axe.”

“Okay, okay, quieten down Ruby and I’ll participate as best as I can, even stopping just short of telling you to best chance of you having a daughter is when you are coming out of having you-know what?”

“No, what’s a you-know-what?”

“Please Ruby, don’t make me say it.’

“Very well. At least it satisfies me that we are on the verge about having a full and frank discussion about when is it time to fuck to have a female baby and when to have a male…”

“Sean, why are you running away…?”

“Got to puke,” he said and then cupping as hand over his mouth.

Ruby chuckled, remembering a similar performance she encountered the first nigh they were having sex and she’d asked him to lick her ass. His parents were Baptists and so the poor sod would have been raised on the pretence there was no such a thing as having sex simply for the joy of having sex.

* * *

The meal was great as was the company from the couple from well up north, and Sean was pissed (drunk) enough for Ruby to talk him into sex on the pretext that she required as heavy ejaculation from him to flush out her innards. He was revolted by the thought but obliged.

Next morning, still pissed, he staggered along something called a bridled path without spotting any brides until he came to a sign that stated, ‘Miners’ Laundry Rapids.”

He sucked his angry-looking artificial fly to give it sex appeal to a trout, male or female, and winding in his first cast in the pool at the base of the rapids, hooked a huge daddy rainbow trout.

Sean was elated, but ready to cry. He was alone in the wilderness, with no one to witness his magnificent angler’s skill at hooking and landing such a magnificent trout, and landing it he did.

Sean photographed the giant trout at his feet and then set his camera on a boulder, captured himself boastfully cradling his catch in his arms, knowing that his mates back home would suspect of photographic doctoring because no trophy trout could be that be that big.”

He shrugged and did the decent thing: he carefully placed the grandpa trout back into the water, hook removed, and watched it leisurely swim off into the murky depths to live for another 10 years or whatever it would take before it reached 100 years old.

He arrived back to find Ruby highly excited and wondered how the hell did she know about his greatest catch.

“I took a call from the travel agent and he says the Government is easing the Lockdown to allow foreign nationals to return to their home countries. Omigod, I’m so excited and probably you’ll get me pregnant on the aircraft tonight when we once more qualify for the Mile-High Fucking Club.

Sean was tempted to say he would stay but she should go, but then focussed on her happy face and her aroused nipples and mused he’d fuck her on the plane to give the world a great male or female future jet pilot. He could return to the lodge in a year’s time – without Ruby and their howling child – to see if he could catch the father of the huge trout that he’d less than an hour ago had lovingly released back into nature’s waters.

The End

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