Walter & May - December, 2010 Wet, Wild, and Wicked ®

I am on vacation for the purpose of forgetting most (not all) of my real life, and most especially what I want to forget, if for just a little while, is what it is I am forced to do to be able to afford to bring my lovely bride down to Hedo once a year. I am the very best at what I do (and I am a very modest man), but my job isn't exciting, isn't interesting (except in only the most technical of ways), and even when I explain what it is I do, it isn't understandable to most people. It pays the bills, and lets us get naked once a year. That's why I do it.

Okay. Now on with the report.

Oh! One more thing. Here's another rant, directed directly (darn it!) at the WWW group!

May and I were not in charge of anything! All week long you all kept coming up to May and I and saying something like "Somebody said that you two are in charge. What's the theme tonight?" Or "Thank goodness you two are in charge! Where's the Meet and Greet being held?" Now, we always had the answers, but only because we had read, and mentally retained, the emails that Denny sent out.

So allow us to re-iterate. May and I were not in charge of anything! Well, we were in charge of the Erotic Gift Exchange, granted. By that doesn't mean that we were in charge of anything else.

Oh, and we did take it upon ourselves to sort out the nude catamaran cruise, about which there was some confusion, and which we only did out of the kindness of our hearts, and not because we were in charge of it. We were only put in charge of it as we were stepping aboard and the catamaran cruise lady that we had been working with said something to the effect of "I'm so glad that you two are in charge! It's made this whole thing much easier to organize!" This of course leads to everyone asking us what the agenda of the cruise is, and telling us to go tell the crew where we want to go.

And yes, we did assist in drumming up players for the daily volleyball game, but that doesn't mean that we were in charge of it. That was Brice and Kristi!

And just because people kept collapsing onto our loungers to recover from whatever ills they were suffering at the moment, that doesn't make us in charge of emergency first aid on the beach! Okay, we did dispense various medications, but only through the goodness of our hearts, not through any sense of authority!

Some people asked us to approach the resort with various suggestions for improving the guest experience, telling us that we have great, what was the term, ah yes, "personal pull" with the staff.

Let us set you all straight. We have no pull whatsoever with the staff. They don't have the first clue who we are. Well, okay, Charlie does like to come out from behind his station to serve May her morning eggs personally. And Nigel at the nude grill does set up May's order when he sees her coming, even before she asks him, and yes Sadie our housekeeper liked to stop and chat with May whenever she could. And it is true that one of the groundskeepers asked me if he could have one of my T-shirts with naked May on it (I gave it to him, of course).  But none of that means that we have any "personal pull" at the resort!

Okay. On with the report.

Oh, and we did meet with Delano in the office area behind the front desk to make sure that the disco was all set up for the gift exchange. But that's not "personal pull"!

Okay, on with the report.

Oh! One more rant! If you see a man giving his wife a sensual massage on the beach, oil and all, I can understand the ladies coming by and saying "Can I be next?" Sure. Pull up a lounger. It'll be about an hour. But really, guys, there is absolutely no need to stop by and say "Oil massage eh? Watch out for sand!" Or "Are you in charge of massages as well?" Or "Hey! That looks like fun! Are you going to play volleyball later? How many people are going to play today? What's the theme for dinner tonight? Did you see that blowjob in the hot tub yesterday?" and so forth. I mean Geeeeeez. May is trying to sleep, and I'm trying to give her pleasant dreams. So guys, either shut the hell up, or grab some oil and help me out.

Okay, on with the report.

Wait! One more rant. The food was good.

Okay, okay. Not so much a rant as a statement. We ate lobster tail twice. We never thought that we would get tired of lobster tail, but there you are.

Okay...

I think I was on the volleyball court when one nice lady said to me "Walter, you're bleeding!"

Well of course I'm bleeding. I'm on vacation. Cuts, scrapes, bumps, bruises, bites. It would be a pretty darn dull vacation if I went home in better shape than that in which I arrived.

Let's see, what else went on. Oh! I gave up chewing for two days. Not because the food wasn't good, because it certainly was. But really, it's just way too much effort to chew food when I can get all of the caloric intake I need through liquid refreshment, and ice cream.

And I went 72 hours on six hours of sleep. Most of my nights were spent watching May sleep. A comforting pastime.

And then... I wouldn't say that I hit the wall. I was just leaning up against the wall and then the wall collapsed on me. But we both felt much better, once we regained consciousness.

Here's another rant. Nobody gives the first rat's ass what the score of the volleyball game is! Nor do we care that it takes some ladies numerous attempts to get their serve over the net. They're ladies! They're at Hedo! They get preferential treatment! We also don't care about proper positioning, or an easily manageable rotation! All we care about is mocking each other and making lewd remarks. That's the whole point of the game! So to the one cranky old fart who thought he was playing in the 1922 summer Olympics for the gold medal, screw off and go have an infarction! You're ruining it for the rest of us. May and I actually left the game in the middle of it because he was so miserable. And to my everlasting chagrin, I must admit that he was a Canadian. From Nova Scotia no less! So to me at least his behaviour was embarrassing. Please do not judge all Canadians by this one example. You probably shouldn't judge Canadians by my example either, but for different reasons of course. Try judging Canadians by May's example, except drunker. That's a pretty good approximation. Now where was I? Oh yeah! Stupid old jerk ruining our fun. Geeeeez, eh?

The erotic gift exchange, of which May and I were in charge, went well we thought. It's really hard for it not to go well. WWWers, dildos, and drinks. Really, the comic material was just there for the taking. I kept the patter going, while my delightful Sand Sprite sidekick did the legwork. A good time was had by all.

We danced. And we danced. And we danced some more. We danced on the main floor. We danced out on the pool deck. We danced naked on the catamaran. We danced in the piano bar. We danced on the beach. Really, you could take everything else away and the dancing would keep us coming back. One highlight for us was dancing in the piano bar while Doc sang "Hedonismville". Another night we did a lively two-step in the piano bar which actually had the crowd cheering. Good times!

May got cheered by name twice. Once was for her rendition of "Downtown" during karaoke night, for which she substitutes the word "Hedo" for "Downtown". "May! May! May!" And she wonders why I love to hear her sing.

Another cheering event was the action on the pussy fountain. One lovely lady, for no apparent reason, mounted the fountain and gave quite a nice burlesque routine to a rousing round of applause from the packed hot tub. Not to be outdone, Rochelle then gives her version of the event, to more applause. She is followed by Kitty, which is followed by universal approval as well. Then there was an awkward pause, with no further dancers. Just to keep things lively, some dork of a guy decides that he will provide comic relief and he gets on the fountain. I didn't get applause so much as gales of laughter, but that motivated Tom to follow me and give the thing full treatment. He got applause. While that is going on I grab May, and through some begging and pleading, get her to accompany me and we displace Tom and put on a show of our own. Wisely, I drift into the background as soon as I can, leaving the spotlight to May, who gyrates enticingly while the crowd shouts "May! May! May!" May was scandalized by her own behaviour, but very gratified by the response. Wheeeee! I then carried her to the hot tub where willing hands took her and off the the bar I went to tank up. What a hoot!

There were a lot of great costumes worn. I must of course declare my partiality to May's outfits, which I spent the better part of a year thinking up. But she's a great sport and carries them all off wonderfully. I can't wait to get her into them, and then I can't wait to get her out of them. What a conundrum!

One evening as we were heading back to our room, we were stopped by a young lady who says to us "Do you have any Viagra? My boyfriend and I want to have sex but he's too drunk!" Ever helpful, I try to give her the benefit of my experience "Wait for him to sober up, get plenty of fluids into him, and maybe add another lady to your bed to spice things up a bit."

A withering glare she gives me. Withering I tell you! And here I am just trying to be helpful! What is wrong with people?

The catamaran cruise was fun. The weather was rough, which is right down my alley, but it did lead to gallons of vomit from others. Most of that went overboard, fortunately. Kitty was heard to say "Yes, I embarrassed myself on the cat cruise." to which Tom replied "Embarrassed yourself? That's pretty tough to do in front of this crew." That is quite a sage comment on the whole Hedo atmosphere.

Every year it seems that we have to carry one helpless drunk to his bed. This year was Matthew's turn. Mike gave him a half-bottle of tequila, which Matthew immediately chugs down. His eyes spin in different directions for a minute or two, and shortly thereafter declares that it is bed time. Rochelle wisely declares herself incapable of getting him to his room, so Mike and I are recruited to get him there. I remember that I had quite a good comedy routine going the whole way to the room, but as I was a little looped myself, I can't remember any of it. But trust me, it was hilarious. Unlike that guy that was forced off the stage on talent night because his stand-up routine was so bad that the ECs, and the guests, couldn't stand it anymore. I was wayyyyy funnier than him. Anyway, arriving at the room and catching sight of his bed, Matthew shouts "Yay! Bed!" and throws himself face down onto it. That was followed by some discussion of the benefits of anally-administered marijuana, which Matthew was strangely in favour of. Mike and I left him in the good care of Rochelle and returned to the piano bar. No, I don't know how it turned out. I don't want to know!

The hot tub was rocking most nights during happy hour. One fellow took it upon himself to move about the tub with two large cups of rum cream and pouring them over the ladies breasts, and elsewhere. There were no complaints, and a good deal of laughter. The next night this enterprising fellow took to drawing rum cream into a straw and then squirting it all over the ladies breasts. This new method of delivery was greeted with great shouts of approval. Who was that fine fellow?! I think he was referred to as the "shit disturber". Oh well. I've been called worse.

A pile of other crap happened every day, but without carrying a pen and paper around with me all day, which is too much like work  for my liking, I can't be expected to remember even a fraction of it. All I know is that we all laughed our asses off, as usual.

So another great WWW trip has come and gone, and now begins the long agonizing wait for the next one. Lots of time to start designing the new togas, and shopping for new mini-skirts and mesh outfits. Wheeeee!

Walter.