A Rainy Day in Paradise
Copyright© 2025 by Bosom Buddies
Chapter 1: Freudian Auto-Correct
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Freudian Auto-Correct - Three amorous young couples will need to rethink their summer vacation when a tropical storm traps them all inside together. As crossed wires and unfulfilled desires slowly bubble to the surface, an ordinary vacation rental becomes an erotic pressure cooker, threatening to forever change these longtime friendships… into something more.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Group Sex Swinging Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Big Breasts Slow
It wasn’t my fault, I swear! It was my damn, over-eager iPhone. It could have happened to anybody.
I love my Annie! I would never even consider suggesting that we all...
That the six of us...
Okay, maybe I would consider it. I’m not gonna pretend like I hadn’t been eagerly anticipating the chance to spend a whole week watching Lisa and Mina prance around the beach in their swimsuits, those heavy breasts bouncing and swaying while glistening rivulets of water dribbled down from their hair into their cleavage ... and ... um...
... Wait, what was I talking about, again?
Oh. Right. But that was as far as it ever went! Just a bit of harmless looking. We all did it. It had been an unspoken tradition of our annual “Summer Friend-cations” ever since college: sunny days filled with flirting and teasing, followed by sexy nights eavesdropping through thin walls. Happy, horny times with good friends. No lines were ever crossed.
At least, not until I sent that fateful text message.
We had wrapped up our last day of pre-vacation work, and all three couples were excitedly texting:
Chris: “Clock out, rock out!”
Lisa: “Fun and sun, here we come!”
Annie: “Aww, I’ve been missing you guys so much!”
Mina: “Here we go, bitches!”
Erik: “Whooo!”
Then there was me, Tristan. I zipped up my laptop bag, strolled out of the office to drink in the view of the setting sun, and smiled at the prospect of finally seeing my friends again.
Two years had passed since we’d all been together in the same place at the same time. Between coordinating the schedules of three different couples across three different states (not to mention a little something called a global pandemic), we’d spent an unbearable length of time apart.
I texted the group:
Tristan (me): “Can’t wait to escape all this soul-crushing monotony. Looking forward to an extra-special trip with our best friends!”
Send.
Except, that’s not the message that went through. For all its conveniences, modern technology can sometimes deliver a swift kick to the testicles when you least expect it. Maybe your bank account gets hacked by some suspiciously computer-savvy Nigerian prince. Maybe your crazy ex-boyfriend emails your boss a photo of you wasted, dressed up as skanky-sexy Chewbacca, and holding up a triumphant empty bottle of Jack Daniels, drooling into the camera.
In my case, the culprit was my phone’s auto-correct feature. Goddamn, horse-fucking autocorrect. Just before I clicked “send,” my phone changed “monotony” to “monogamy.” Why? WHY?!!!
I looked down with a groan at the text I had actually just sent everyone:
“Can’t wait to escape all this soul-crushing monogamy. Looking forward to an extra-special trip with our friends!”
Soul-crushing monogamy. Real smooth, dumbass. Never gonna hear the end of that one.
Maybe five seconds passed before Erik followed up with: “What exactly does ‘extra special’ mean in this context, dude? lol”
“Hey Tristan, you gotta buy me dinner first,” Mina joked.
“It was a typo!” I quickly responded.
“Freudian slip is more like it!” Chris replied.
“Monotony, monotony!” I insisted.
Lisa: “Wait, you’re saying your monogamous life with Annie is monotonous?”
Only my dear, sweet wife Annie refrained from cracking a joke at my expense.
Annie had a weird energy that night.
“Okay, spit it out,” I said as we lay in bed together.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Tell me whatever it is that’s got you so distracted tonight. You spent dinner staring at the wall behind me. I mean, it’s a nice wall and all, but I’m fairly certain it can’t compete with my boyish good looks.”
Annie blushed. “I’ve just been ... thinking about stuff.” She placed a hand on my knee and asked, “Do you wish we hadn’t met when we were eighteen?”
“What?” I laughed. “Annie, you’re the love of my life! Why would you even ask that?”
“No, no, you’re taking it wrong. I know you love me, you’re my perfect Prince Charming, that’s not what I mean.”
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