Paid Vacation

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by finsuptx, Dec 14, 2009.

  1. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    You never appreciate how unworldly you are, until you leave the confines of the only world you’ve ever known. Naivety is only part of it. I’d grown up on the Left Coast of the United States, and even though I am a certified commercial pilot, I had lived my entire 24 years along the beaches of Southern California. Happily.

    I was a water boy from the word go, Mom was into water-birthing. I was learning to swim at six months and surfing at 6 years. I love to dive, snorkel, and swim. Good genes and an active, outdoor lifestyle had helped tone my 5’11” frame into a taught, tan and muscular 170lbs.

    I could never manage a ripped six pack, but I was in perfect proportion. My shoulders, pecs, and arms actually looked like they belonged with the rest of my body. I wore my chestnut hair short on the sides, longer on the top and when I bothered to style it, it was called a faux hawk. My nose fits my face, and I’ve never been called ugly, except those times I deserved it.

    But that was awhile ago, when I had my life figured out. I had it all, and now I didn’t; a beautiful girlfriend, a condo near the beach, dogs, great friends. Then I got greedy. The girl ran off with another guy, and I would have done the same, except the guy I wanted to run off with stayed with my best friend. I still ran off.

    As attached as I am to the water, I also love the air. I’ve flown planes since I was fourteen, and now, nearly 25, it was finally my occupation. A beautiful Brazilian Billionairess seduced me into being a private pilot for her Caribbean resort. No shit! So now I fly boats.

    I’m industrious, so I married my love of the water to my love of flying, and my job is to shuttle very important persons between islands and on sight-seeing tours. Don’t call it a seaplane, though. It’s a flying boat. I also used it to hit every surf spot I could reach. There were few out of my reach.

    In addition to a private one-bedroom bungalow at the resort, I negotiated fifty-percent ownership in a 1955 Grumman Albatross, G404, 137931, that had special meaning for me. I owned fifty percent of the plane I flew, outright, and my tenure at the resort would buy me more over time. It was a complicated formula her lawyers used, but mine said it was a good deal. Maybe on paper.

    When the Brazilian Billionairess offered me the job, she said it was because she only wanted beautiful people at her ultra-exclusive resort. She did not lie. The staff was as young and pretty, as the main house of the colonial plantation, was ancient. Actually, it looked brand new and I never got over the feeling of stepping back in time, each time I landed and set foot back on the island.

    It was a private resort. It was a private island, and the only way to reach it was by boat or seaplane. No near neighbors, to speak of. It really had been a plantation during the colonial eras. It was a rum distillery for several generations after that, and it had all of the Caribbean charm and flavor the region is known for.

    Paradise doesn’t begin to explain it. The waters are warm, blue, and breathtaking. The sand is never too hot and must be shipped in periodically to prevent erosion. Fantasy Island might be a better description. In addition to the main house, guest house, boat house and docks, there were 12 private bungalows, each with its own fenced patio with a hot tub. Private. Mine was number 9. They were spread out evenly and haphazardly around the island and they were all equidistant to the main house, and the beaches.

    When I arrived in late October, it was off season. We were booked solid from the middle of December through the end of February, and that’s what we called busy season. The snow-trapped privileged bailed on the cold weather at home in favor of sub-tropical treasures, like this little island.

    As part of the Covington conglomerate, it was established as a resort. You couldn’t hop online and book a room there. Invitations were extended to executives, endorsers and friends of the various companies Covington owned, and their families. Celebrity status could get you a room, but you most likely still had to know someone. Mostly, the guest list included wealthy financier’s and their screaming families, celebrities, and sometimes, royalty.

    The week of Christmas we had a full house and I logged enough hours in the cockpit to qualify for a status upgrade on my certificates. There were two U.S. Senators and their entire broods, two congressmen, but one was a woman, and their brats, and several members of the Dutch Royal House, and their staff. We also saw an Academy Award-winning actress, now in her seventies, as well as a severely amped up rocker from the seventies.

    The one I couldn’t get my eyes off, was the much-in-demand-at-the-moment pop star. She treated me indifferently, and by that I mean, she never even noticed me. I did what I could to be noticed, too. I seldom wear shirts anymore and when I do, its usually a light button down that isn’t buttoned.

    From the moment I landed here I realized it was a different world. Lysa had said she wanted only beautiful people working at her resort, and when I met the rest of the staff, I felt out of place. A full compliment of sixty staff for sixteen acres, year-round. I was one of them. I was staff, but I had assumed a higher status. I was the only staff member to have a private bungalow, and there was only one person on the island I answered to, and that’s because I was pussy whipped.
     
  2. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    It wasn’t in my job description to make beds, do laundry, serve dinner or trim hedges. When I wasn’t flying, I was lounging by the lagoon-style pool with its man-made waterfall surrounded by a natural paradise. Before the busy season I had kept myself busy by learning charts, and getting my general bearings. I could now make my way down easily from the Bahamas to Trinidad, and I’d done so four times already.

    I explored many of the islands in the Caribbean, from the Caymans to Barbados and they are all unique and beautiful, and total tourist traps. I learned to avoid Cuban airspace, as Cuba defines it, and I had the best connection on Jamaica to feed my occasional need for the Green.

    I arrived in paradise just after the last time love was supposed to last forever. It had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I reverted back to manwhore. I was surprised at how quickly that became old and tired in a land where people don’t wear a lot of clothes, and just the smell of suntan oil is arousing.

    I had standards. They had to be attractive and coherent and breathing. It did not matter if they were a man or woman. I was way more selective with guys though, and especially what I did with them. In fact, there had only been two. A med student from one of the island colleges and a tourist I met in Nassau. Both American. How far I’d come.

    Women on the other hand, were many, and varied. One of my favorites was a tiny little mermaid from Atlantis, and I flew out to see her daily, for two weeks solid. I stopped going because she wanted to fall in love, and I was nowhere near ready for that, plus it was a several hours commute, by air.

    I’d sworn off love, forever, and thought I’d be happy being a beach bum himbo the rest of my life. But even though I wasn’t ready for love, I grew tired of meaningless sex. I had also started to rack up a reputation as a Caribbean Casanova, and it had earned me an ass beating with stitches. Twice.

    So I was thankful when it started with Solana. Not only because she was a 5’9” Brazilian beauty with the same raven hair and dark pools of eyes like her sister’s, but because she, like her sister, was the boss. Solana Melencia was Lysa Covington’s baby sister, and at 30, she was a knock out, and she was the General Manager of the resort. What is it about a woman in power?

    We had an instant dislike for one another that quickly devolved into a series of grudge-fuck quickies, and finally to our present situation of regular nightly encounters. It started out that way, but these days it was no longer several times a day. Some fires blaze, some smolder and eventually turn to ash, ours was just burning embers, anymore.

    It was convenient and comfortable and the sex was still pretty fuckin’ hot. Sometimes it was passionate and rough, others it was slow and sensual, and we liked a balanced diet. Tonight, it was slow and sensual as she stretched herself above me. The woman could stretch like a Persian cat, and I was always jealous.

    When she stretched, I felt the first fantastic sensation of her dripping muff capping my cock. It felt even better as she slowly eased herself down onto me, as I laid on my back with the breezy night winds blowing past the open windows in my bungalow. Sheers fluttered lazily as she hit cock bottom.

    The urge was resisted when I first thought to grip her hips and slam fuck my balls halfway up her back. I had learned so much about being a patient lover from her, that I doubted anyone I’d fucked prior would think I was same person. I will always be grateful to her for being the one who truly, first showed me that sex was a journey, not a destination. Enjoy your trip!

    I am blessed with a girthy, seven-and-a-half cut cock that Solana professed her love for, as it filled her. “Its so big, Peter. So nice. Thick. I love it!” She was barely over a hush, but her voice was salt-husky against her thick native accent. My dick is rather thick, and it’s usually one of the first things people say when they see it. I am not the biggest in the world, but no one who’d ever had it called it small. Some might have chanted more more! But I’m pretty sure I knew what they meant.

    She was a stewpot tonight. She was as humid as the weather, and it had last rained at 6pm and the thermometer still read 79 degrees. She was drenched as she swirled her hips on mine. She was a tall girl, but she was of small vagina. I completely filled her, and it had taken us quite awhile to get to the point where she could handle me, without it hurting. Patience.

    She continued to swirl but I couldn’t see her. She’d blindfolded me, just like my hands and ankles were shackled to the wrought iron bed. Restraints. This was another edge session, and I don’t mean ‘another’ like it was a chore or boring. Just the opposite, this was learning valuable lessons from an eager teacher who had plenty to teach.

    She was teaching now, as the hips still swirled and she occasionally kegeled. My job was to resist the urge to dump several cumloads in her tiny, tight box as she teased and tortured me. I’m very ticklish, and I never knew it was a curse until I met Solana. She knows my nipples are one of my gold zones. Its very hard to cum when you’re giggling and gasping for air, but she had caused me to do it once or twice. It was amazing and it was never a fantasy before it happened.
     
  3. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    The edging had gone on for several hours already, and I knew this step meant our routine was winding down for the night. She had sucked my vanilla pickle until it had stretched to maximum thickness and the angriest of purples. Yes purple. This was round two, and it was punishment for the purple pickle popping a load an hour ago. Throw the book at me!

    I had never told her what it did to me when she rode me like this. I could feel her slick cave, sluiced in her juices, and she must have had a ceramics kiln hidden in there somewhere. The tip of my dick spent a lot of time rolling against her very end, and when that wasn’t enough, it was so tight around my flared head, when things were right, it felt like a double plunger.

    Her hands clamped on my shoulders, and her thumbs dipped into my furry dark patches, and she swirled the sweat into the dark hairs and skin like she was kneading pizza dough. Her grip was strong until she slid her hands up from my pits, over my flexing biceps and up to my forearms. She gripped my wrists much tighter than the nylon restraints.

    When her arms went up, her mouth came down and my left nipple was the victim. My hips bucked, and although my dick had nowhere to go inside her, it moved enough to get her attention. She pulled off at the teeth and I thought my nipple had popped like a cheap button. Was I bleeding?

    I couldn’t see it, but I felt the wisp of her coal-black hair slinging around just before her full and luscious lips met the corner of my straining neck and shoulders. My ankles burned from the restraints when I jerked again. I had already broken a sweat just from my efforts against the restraints, and she hungrily licked it off the entire left side of my neck as her lips made their way to my earlobe, where she swirled her wet tongue like she was writing my name with the tip. She had amazing penmanship!

    She knew every button to push, when to push it, and she enjoyed finding new ones. Nothing new tonight, and there was only one more button to push, so she did. She quickly sat up, English Saddle, and I couldn’t see it but I had the vision from memory of her lithe frame with ample breasts, smooth skin and an arched back. I was certain her hands had moved to fondle and feel and flubber her tits. Her head was literally spinning, the thick black hair whooshing around air told me so.

    When she sat up, the pressure changed and my eyes rolled back inside my head behind the blindfold. I was busy breathing. Slow and sensual still led to heavy breathing. At least for me. Both of her hands slapped down on my pecs and I knew there would be red marks. The red marks would be obscured by the trenches her fingernails were digging, and I bucked my hips and cried out in pain as she started to trot. Clippity-clop.

    If you want to get off, even slow and sensual has to give way to savagery. This was my cue, and I leapt. I flexed every muscle in my body, and that included my dick, as she rode me like a happy pony. I flexed and strained and held my breath ‘til I knew I was turning red.

    I knew she was watching me, so I flexed and heaved and struggled some more. I did not exaggerate it, I didn’t have to. It bought me a few more seconds of this bliss before I snapped the break-away restraints all at once.

    I quickly flipped her over and my fat dick didn’t leave her trench. She exhaled in a burst when her back bounced on the bed, and I was still balls deep. I flexed and she inhaled sharply. I know she was turned on by the sudden power exchange. I didn’t bother with the blindfold as my hands pinned her wrists to the bed. She arched her back and it caused me to almost slip out. I righted the wrong and when I did, I felt the thick raven hair on my forearms and she shook her head no as she writhed her hips and struggled.

    I flexed my sweat-sheened muscles, and her gasps and grunts told me she was completely satisfied with my brute masculinity. Her words, not mine. So I gave her a good show, and when she was ready to cum, I had oozed enough masculinity to slick our bodies and coat her insides.

    I didn’t yet have the urge to pee before she was gone, her scent quickly following on the night breeze. I stepped onto my patio to rinse off. Alone. I had a full luxury bathroom, but I kind of liked showering out here more. Outdoors.

    I wasn’t surprised she’d left so quickly, she usually did. Just the same, it meant I would be sleeping alone, and that’s the way it had been, for the most part these last eight months. I rinsed off, and as I did, I grabbed a rather fluffy belly in both my hands. Jesus was that mine?

    When I laid down I felt heavy. There was a state-of-the-art gym facility in the main house someone once told me. I never bothered to find it, and my lack of interest in the waves this time of year had turned my tight one-seventy into an almost flabby 190! The curry and the goat meat that is part of the local cuisine might have helped some. And the generous amounts of rum.

    I really needed to start working out! I hadn’t even thought about it until just now. No wonder she didn’t want to cuddle up next to me. It wasn’t that bad, but I had never been this out of tone, or fluffy. Diet and exercise tomorrow, I promised myself as I prepared for sleep to take over.

    My phone chirped with a text message from the med student. It was late but I read it and responded.

    Evan: Gonna be in Antigua Barbuda for a couple of days.

    Me: Oh yeah?

    Evan: Private room. Cum play!!

    Me: I could – gotta run to Anguilla for some parts tomorrow. When/where?

    When I dozed off to sleep, he’d sent me coordinates to a hotel we’d used before that was seventeen degrees north of the equator. Hot!
     
  4. D_Doe_Ray_Mi

    D_Doe_Ray_Mi Account Disabled

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    Great start, setting the stage. Endless opportunities to take from here. Can't wait . . .
     
  5. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    The next day, somewhere over the Caribbean Sea, something went wrong. Actually, I knew exactly where I was, and what went wrong. I was five-hundred feet above sea level, clipping along at a cruising speed of 146mph, and my number one engine stopped working. Now I was going down. I had put off the parts run too long.

    You can not fly a Grumman Albatross on one engine, and at this point I was a glider. I’m a surfer, so I’m used to getting smacked by the waves. The water looks soft and gray, but when you hit it at a decent speed, it’s like concrete. This was going to hurt.

    While I was busy going through my emergency checklist, and flipping switches and turning knobs that were a half-century old, I thought of my flabby body, and how it deserved this fate because I had let the Clipper go downhill too. I also reached and rubbed the tiny Saint Christopher’s medal pinned to my visor. I’m not Catholic.

    At three hundred feet I shut the number two engine down to stop if from fighting me as I guided a thirty-five thousand pound brick to my death. If your car has ever died and you had to steer it to a stop without power-steering, you have some idea what I’m talking about.
    Sweat rolled down my temples as I pulled back on the stick with every muscle that hadn’t turned to fat. Here was the workout I’d promised myself the night before.

    I had to keep the nose up, and some engineer way back when decided that’s where all the weight in an airplane should go. It’s a big plane. It has the hull of a boat, wings and two big, round radial engines. Floats hang down from the wings to help stabilize it in the water. She was built from the keel up but she was made to fly. I was level and I could see the distant shore of Antigua creeping up. I was safe if I could keep the nose up.

    By now, landing in the water was old hat to me. When you’re dealing with precious island real estate, it’s a lot more profitable to stack hotels and people on the sand and land planes in the water. I never got over the rush, but this would be the first time I’d ever done it with no power.

    It was eerie quiet until my voice cracked with a standard mayday. I calmly informed local traffic that I was a brown-out, certain I’d done that in my pants. When the Clipper bounced on the waters off Antigua and settled her hull, I could finally breathe. I wanted to hear trumpets! I could pull out an oar and paddle it to English Harbor from here.

    I didn’t have to, and got a tow from a fisherman and I gave him a handful of crumpled up U.S. Dollars. He went home for the day, having earned more than his pay, and I felt sad and lucky all at the same time. I hadn’t abused the Clipper so bad that she let me down, which meant there was still hope for my body.

    I’d already gotten the parts I needed from Anguilla on my way down, and I’d decided to give the shop on Antigua a shot at the repairs. The Brazilian billionairess had been too cheap to spring for a full-time mechanic, and I had yet to find one I trusted completely. There were so damn few Charlie Higgins’ in the world.

    My landing was shitty, but my timing was perfect and the repair shop had a crew at the dock waiting on me. We talked it over and I showed the guy the parts, and told him what I thought had happened and he nodded as he looked up at the big engine. It was still hot.

    He told me it would definitely be tomorrow evening at the earliest, probably Wednesday. Island Time. I smiled, and told him Wednesday would be fine, I had plans. I looked at my watch and I still had some time before I was supposed to meet up with Evan.

    I grabbed my bag and headed off into the slow-moving shuffle of people. Antiguans are mostly of African descent, but it is a huge tourist destination, and I was in the packed historic district. The people were as colorful as their clothing and everyone seemed to be wearing smiles. I browsed my way inland, ducking into a handful of small shops that caught my attention.

    By the time the smells finally got to me, I’d found a quiet piece of empty bench across from a fountain in a shady area, and enjoyed a snack. I don’t know what it was, but it was meat, and it was charred, it was on a stick and it was delicious.

    I guess I’d forgotten my manners while I ate, because a four-year-old blond boy watched me in rebuke. His big blue eyes were wide, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted to take my stickfood away from me to eat it, or just stop me from doing so. I was dainty as I finished my snack, and I felt sated.

    I watched the other people, and the little boy moved on. Lovely people. Caribe’s, English, American, Creole’s. Tall, short, skinny, and fat. Short usually went with fat like tall did skinny, but not always. I was surprised at how fit most everyone was, and I wanted to punch my fat stomach.

    Now as I sat waiting for my appointed time to meet up with Evan, I was even more self-conscious of the sorry state my body was in. He wasn’t going to be impressed. We hadn’t gotten together too often since it started, and the last time was about a month ago. I wondered if I looked much better back then.

    Evan was a honey blond, and I wondered why that jumped into my brain housing group when I spotted a dark haired guy that made me do a double-take. Behind the sunglasses I could see a broad and attractive face. The nose might have been too big for how short the hair was. His hair was styled like mine, and when I realized it, I felt stupid. I think I was a Johnny-Come-Lately with the style, and too many people had it now.

    He was tall as he walked towards me in a pair of bright board shorts, a white wife beater and flip flops. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes were watching his feet shuffle him forward. It wasn’t a brisk pace. Island Time.
     
  6. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    I’m a guy, and all guys look. When they say they don’t, they’re lying. Everyone is guilty, and it’s as natural as a lion’s roar or a Gorilla pounding his chest. Usually we do it because of competition or insecurity. I was doing it to see if I could see a visible penis line.

    Bingo! When I found it, I blinked behind my shades. Wow! Double Bingo! I got busted looking! He started to stop dead in his tracks as our stares met, then must have thought better of it, because it looked like he tripped. He even glanced behind him after he stumbled, and continued forward.

    When our stare broke, he’d dodged into a side shop, and I decided it was my perfect opportunity to get up and go meet Evan. I stood up to look around and get my bearings. I’ve been here before, but like I said, it had been a month. By the time I decided which way to go and stopped watching my feet shuffle me forward, I bumped into him.

    I bounced off of a six-foot-six wall of 230lbs of muscle. I hadn’t meant to, and figured I had used up my luck for the day with my impressive landing. I knew it was him seconds before I bounced off his chest like a quarter on a Marine’s rack. I muffled an apology and when I moved past him, he let me. I went in my direction and he went in his, and I got lost.

    When I finally made it to the hotel room, it was past time to meet Evan. I picked up my key from the desk for a room that was as quaintly luxurious as the one at home. Not nearly as private, but it still felt like familiar surroundings. The room was dark and the drapes were pulled and I saw his shoulders rise and fall as he laid on the bed, slowly breathing. Face down, naked, spread eagle, head facing away from the door. Slowly breathing.

    My dick was hard already when the door closed behind me and I stepped out of my own pair of bright board shorts. I flicked my flip flops off and one of them struck the bed and it scared him, but he only flinched once.
    Next came my shirt, and by then I had both palms planted high, on the back of his thighs and he helped me out and by spreading his legs a little more.

    As much as I’ve always loved eating pussy, and although I wanted to one time, I had never rimmed an ass until Evan. I’d always heard that if you’re eating pussy and it tastes like shit, you took too big of a bite. I’d lived by that rule. Evan never tasted like anything but honey-nectar.

    In the low light I was close enough to see the blond fur that covered his assmounds. As if on cue, he flexed them for me, and the globes dimpled. I watched my breath blow the thick and wiry blond hairs like wind through the sagebrush. His tight round ass was not to be outdone by his thick, strong thighs. I palmed them as I dove my tongue into his crack, and my hands felt small.

    The globes instinctively clinched and I spread the thighs further still and used my chin for leverage and crowbarred the pointy tip of my wet tongue to his tiny pucker. The globes flexed the other way as I felt the course hairs on my tongue. Contact!

    Now the ass that tried to deny me access was opening up to me. I licked and lapped and I could hear him breathing. Deeply. It was a long time before I came up for air, and I immediately went back down. This was full-on munching and I was hungry. I bit some his most intimate real estate like I would attack an ice cream cone. Hungry caution.

    I would bite, then lick, then flick, and repeat as necessary. The hips began to gyrate and I knew his fat dick was underneath him somewhere, grinding into the sheets. His hips moved counter-clockwise so I rolled my head clockwise and it worked into a steady and hungry rhythm. If it wasn’t before, I’d enlivened his hole.

    His breathing had turned into heavy grunts, each one growing louder as I munched. He tucked his elbows to his ribcage and still had a hold of the sheets when he tried to do a pushup. He didn’t try very hard, almost like he didn’t really want to. I munched.

    “Fuck me, please.” The brawny boy hissed in a lust-laden and husky voice that belied his twenty-two years. He was begging and his hips were gyrating. I was munching. “Oh goddamn, Pete! Shit!” The husky voice turned up the volume, like I didn’t already know he wanted me to fuck him. I munched some more. “Please put it in me!” The husky voice broke and gave way to a compulsive whine. I munched a little more.

    I released the globes and kissed from the small of his back to the center of his shoulder blades and when I did, the blades stretched like a butterfly. Small, little, equally timed kisses that made too much noise for how long they each lasted. He was catching his breath before the butterfly stretch.

    I wasn’t sure if it was the final kiss, or the fact that my plump dick dragged up his trench that caused the butterfly stretch, but it also spread the globes and my dick was now hardening fast, but it was pointing down and it was clapped in his furry, damp crack.

    He was a big, tall, muscular boy, and his back was as powerful-looking as his chest. My dick felt good in his buns, so I dipped it down and dragged it back up each time I reached for a new place to kiss on his shoulders, neck and earlobe. Heavy sigh from him, hungry moan from me. Call and answer, repeat as necessary.

    I was getting too hard to still point down and I adjusted by backing out too far and my dick slapped my belly. I swear to god it jiggled! Thank god he couldn’t see me yet, but he could feel me. My bone dropped back between the buns and as I slid up and down his crack, I felt my precum begin to flow.
     
  7. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    There was enough of it to make a puddle on the small of his back, and still plenty more when I tried to stick it in him. I’d sat up on my knees between his massive trunks of legs, and slicked my knob with my own cocksnot. When I rubbed the head on his hole the first time, there still wasn’t enough lubricant, so I dropped a long, thick, globby string of spit and it landed on the fat head just before I slicked my pole.

    It had no problem wanting to go in this time, and each time it did brought him closer to the realization that I was still playing. I plunged the head in his relaxed hole and I heard it squish and plop a half-second after I felt it squish and plop. So hot. So tight. Slow. Remember to breathe.

    He writhed and wiggled his hips back and his hole gulped at my dick like guppy. I was ready for a change of pace and so I intentionally changed it up and about three-fourths of my fat snake slid inside. There was a short catch while he inhaled sharply and dropped his chest to the mattress. Then the guppy went at it again when I withdrew.

    I finally remembered how it worked best with my small frame and his huge thighs. I made him release my cock and it flopped against my belly, then I put all my weight on both my palms at the small of his back. I pushed up, and he grunted and I kicked my legs outside of his. In the same fluid motion, I squeezed his furry blond redwoods together and his ass went back to clamped but my slick cock was securely stationed in the wet, furry crevice, and it was neck deep inside him when I had finished the maneuver. I wanted to hear trumpets!

    I settled on stars, and when I drove balls deep, I watched them circle his head. If his eyes weren’t closed, they would have been crossed. That was the first guttural groan of the day, and it was probably the loudest. I grinded my pubes against his scrunched ass, as I tried to position the head of my dick somewhere near his lungs, then I flexed.

    I’m never sure what it is about this manipulation when I am inside someone, man or woman, that has the effect of electrocuting my host. Electric eel. Giggle. He exhaled and arched his back, rolling his shoulders up and twisting around to kiss me. I knew he wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t need to see his eyes. When I leaned into it, my dick finally gained more ground and it only helped the kiss.

    It was passionate and tender but with a tinge of savagery. Intense need coupled with the truth that absence does make the hardon grow fonder. It had been too long since I’d fed on those full lips. More honey-nectar, and it was so sweet and warm on my lips and tongue that I unintentionally flexed again, and the pain or pleasure one, caused his face to crinkle and his strong, broad shoulders to crumble.

    Long deep strokes with a rock hard rod in a hole too tight for anyone to last long. It didn’t hurt that this boy loved getting fucked like Al Gore in an election. I long-dicked him slowly and another stupid thought bounced off my brain, and I chuckled.

    He stopped rocking with me for a split second and exhaled a loud, ‘should’ve known better’ puff of air. He chuckled too, and he resumed his rocking. I’d never missed a beat.

    “You knew it was me in the market.” He pouted.

    “Why did you dye and cut your hair?” I questioned as I slid inside, and brought my chest down onto his hard, flexing back. I draped him and my lips found his earlobe and he bucked in a new way, and I liked it. I tried to repeat it and he sighed again.

    “I got bored, I wanted something different. I want dreadlocks.” More sighs as I timed my penetrations to his words and pauses. “It’s stupid, I know, you hate it.” His voice was raspy, but he said it like he was ten.

    I popped my hips on his jiggling ass as a reminder to behave. He liked that one so much I gave him another, then said, “You look hot!” I reassured into the earlobe between pokes.

    “It’s very close to your color, I think.” He conversed, and I determined I wasn’t doing a good enough job if he had enough breath to talk.

    “Very close.” Wham! Bam! Thank you man! A little less conversation, and a lot more action. Truthfully, I was already having a hard time holding off and I knew this was just round one.

    I gave it all I had for as long as I could and he turned ‘oh’ into a fourteen syllable word that meant he was cumming. He used it over and over, and he took his time with each syllable. “Oh! Oh! Ohh!” When it reached a pitch I’d never heard him hit before, I dumped my load. I’d held it off as long as I could, and I was only halfway in when I busted my nut. I felt it, and I closed my eyes tightly as I envisioned blasts of cum paving the way for my gushing dick tunneling deep in his cave.

    I knew he felt it as my thick stalk flexed uncontrollably and I continued to drive into his ass. The last great “Ohhhh!” told me so. I shuddered and I shook and his well-fucked ass milked me dry, for now.
     
  8. Countryguy63

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    Oh ya, knew this would be good. No disappointments!!
     
  9. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    Evan Walker was a star Left Handed Pitcher for the Purdue Boilermakers and he was on his way up to the majors when a shitty thing happened to a good person, and a torn rotator cuff changed everyone’s mind. Once the majors didn’t want him anymore, he lost interest in his engineering degree and changed to medicine. He also changed his latitudes.

    He still looked like he belonged on a mound at Dodger’s Stadium, and he had the cutest puppy-dog look I’d ever seen. A soft, warm, friendly face with an edge, and he had the Indiana farm boy “aw shucks” bit down to a tee.
    His smile was boyish and big and his eyes were a caramel brown with flecks of green, and I’d spent a good amount of our time together looking at them. I caught myself doing it again now, at dinner.

    They were wide, and he had stopped eating to watch me. The arc’s of his eyebrows were pitched, apparently trying to spell out ‘what the hell?’ Again, I felt like a four-year-old boy was staring at me. This time he wanted to take away my fork and steak knife for savagely attacking a medium-rare Porterhouse with Jerk spices, almost grilled to perfection.

    “Are you trying to bulk up?” The puppy dog wrinkled his forehead.

    I stopped cutting but continued chewing and drank some water to get the overzealous mouthful down my throat so I could speak. I didn’t know what I was going to say. That was his way of recognizing my weight gain. “No, I’m just starving!” I finally managed.

    “You’ve put on mass.” He said it plainly.

    “I was wondering when you were going to notice that.” And I laughed to hide my embarrassment.

    “When you laid on my back.” He laughed too, and again mine was forced. Ouch.

    “I guess I’ve gotten lazy. I’m going to buckle down, soon.” I reassured him and then went back to sawing off smaller chunks of succulent red meat.

    “No! I wasn’t saying that. It looks good on you! You bulked up like you’re getting ready to compact it into more muscle. You look fine!” Puppies are terrible liars.

    “Thanks.” And suddenly I wished my plane was serviceable and I could fly off with my tail between my legs.

    We finished dinner and wound up in a rowdy dance club, after several tries, that fit our moods. Evan was completely bi-sexual, and it was one of the draws we had to one another when we first met online. We’d spent hours chatting before we ever met, and I credited that as the chief reason I was so comfortable with him. I got to know a lot about him, and I’d probably told him more than I wanted to about myself over time.

    When I had taken the job, I really had just barely scratched the surface of my experience with guys. I’d come a long way with Evan. We didn’t get together often, but usually for at least a day and a night or two. I really did feel comfortable with him, and we both had a twisted sense of humor and insatiable sexual appetites.

    We also had similar interest in girls, and as I watched a beautiful light-skinned Creole girl, barely above the drinking age, eyeing Evan, I was not jealous. I watched her look him up and down and I knew from the grin on his face as he eyed her back, that she would be the one we were taking back to our room tonight, if she wanted it that way.

    Her eyes said she did when he introduced her to me. I’d sat patiently, if not drunkenly, in a flimsy chair in the corner of the quietest place I could find and still see the dance floor. I watched them and promised myself I would lay off the rum when I got home, but not until.

    Overall it was a great night. We danced on the dance floor, and everyone who watched us knew what the three of us were going home to do. Everyone, except Koyana. I guess she never caught the lustful looks, ass pats, and jiggywiddit grinds between Evan and I. When we got her back to the room she was all smiles and said she didn’t know where to begin. The big strong one, or the cute, funny one.

    We made up her mind for her and started with each other. I don’t know if she was offended that we didn’t immediately start with her, or she was that put off by our kiss, but by the time we broke it to look, she’d sputtered a few curse words I’d learned since my arrival and something about VooDoo. The door slammed and she was gone.

    Evan busted up laughing, and I should have yelled ‘timber!’ as he tilted and his huge, drunken frame fell to the bed. More laughter, and I was drunk enough to just plop down beside him. He reached a large, strong arm out and scooped me in and I felt safe and happy.

    If I’d learned patience with Solana, I’d learned intimacy with Evan. It was mostly through communication, I think. It was sexual and sensual as well, but we were just plain comfortable with one another. I had found a best bud with benefits. But also, more.

    We loved to horseplay, and play volleyball and run on the beautiful beaches. We liked to trade insults just for sport, and sometimes we drew blood. I found it hard to say no to him, and didn’t now when he moved to kiss me again.

    “Sorry bro, guess I didn’t have that one pegged right.” He apologized, and I didn’t believe him. The villainous smile in his voice was my clue.

    “You sure fucked that one up! I think you just wanted me all to yourself.” The smile in my voice caused him to chortle. He rolled up over me and I was on my back in the middle of our bed. He had my wrists pinned and his knees outside my waist, and my knees were bent to support his back. He had me right where he wanted me, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
     
  10. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    “Guess I’ll just have to peg you!” His smile turned into a salacious grin and I strained against him to keep up my part of the act. It was never boring with Evan and he still managed to surprise me, every now and then.

    “Take it, if you think you’re man enough!” I struggled some more and dodged him when he tried to kiss. I did not stop him from grinding his crotch into mine, and through our board shorts I knew he was already as hard as I was. He was strong and my wrists were hurting, so I bucked my hips and bit my bottom lip, just for effect.

    “You don’t think I’ll fuck your tight little ass?” The puppy barked and tried to scowl. He couldn’t look mean when he tried. But he was big and he could easily overpower me, like now.

    “Why did you run the cute Creole off?” I asked, and my bluntness startled him. He stopped rocking our cocks together and gazed into my hazel-blue eyes.

    “Maybe I just want you all to myself.” The puppy admitted, then smiled and my heart melted like caramel with green flecks.

    “I was never against that.” I assured him of something I thought he already knew.

    “Yeah, but I like the idea of dangling a hot piece of tail in front of you, and watching you leap at the flesh, then snatching it out of your jaws.” Playful puppy.

    “Vicious fucker!” I smiled and our crotches went back to grinding and our wide grins regarded one another admiringly. Then, I slapped his ass and it made him buck.

    “Don’t you get it Gayviator? You’re my little wind-up toy. Take you out, get you wound up, and bring you home and play with you.” The smile was only half-sinister and I was no longer resisting.

    “When ever you feel froggy, just leap.” I challenged with a smile as cocky as I could muster, being the bitch-in-heat that I was. He had me pegged, alright.

    “Ribbit motherfucker!” His voice was deep and husky and he put the most emphasis on the ‘fucker’. I turned my head for him as his mouth clamped on my neck at a very delicate spot. I struggled again, or was it a cringe?

    But something had changed when we started making out for real. It started out ravenous, and then slowly turned warm and tender and that’s when we made love. He was a giant and he was gentle. Evan rocked me to orgasm the first time that night, and we barely broke a sweat and we never fucked above a medium pace.

    Long, slow and sensual slides on a dick bigger than my own, that knew exactly where it itched, and exactly how hard to scratch, eventually drove me over the edge. He was big, and even though I had been fucked before, I never enjoyed it until Evan Walker. Who was I kidding, I fucking loved how he filled me up!

    He could be a bull in a china cabinet when he wanted to, but tonight it had been all about his flared dickhead slowly thumping my turbo button, over… and over… and over again… I could tell he was getting close because his brawny biceps and shoulders were parading coursing veins. He’d held off long enough and when he held off some more, he looked like this. Bright red, straining, and forgetting to breathe. Any second now.

    When he blew, I blew! I don’t even remember grabbing my dick. I was locked in an intense stare, and we were missionary when I felt him pause, shudder, and explode. “You’re a GOD!” I affirmed for my deity. What I meant to say was ‘oh my god, you’re making me cum!’

    You’d have to know the stare. Intense isn’t enough of a word to describe it. Forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, nothing else in the thesaurus would do it justice either. The burning, consuming, deep-cutting, eager stare made me see stars. No. Fireworks! Yes! For the deity. Yes! And all his glory. Huzzah!

    When he exploded, I felt it instantly. It was thick, it was creamy, and there was a lot of it; this I know from experience. It was molten hot as his thick stick stuck it to me. It changed not only my internal temperature but the viscosity, and even though I was splashing my belly right where he’d soaked my insides, I didn’t want him to stop.

    When he finally did, I was ready, and we playfully slapped at each other’s asses and peckers as we showered off. Once we were in bed, he was on his back and my left cheek was on his massive right pec. It was warm on my face like his hairy leg was on my calf, and as comfortable to me as my hand rubbing his chest and abs. I played with the sparse hairs, threatening to one day grow into a patch between his pecs. He was a thick boy, and this was afterglow, and I was the bitch, and I was fine with that here in the shadows where we both sighed with content.

    “God I needed this.” He said in low tones followed by a deep sigh. My face rose and fell on his chest, then bounced when he started to giggle. “You called me a god!” The chest puffed up again.

    When I blew out a snort-laugh, he did too, and he knew he’d caught me. I couldn’t deny it. “Don’t get used to it.” I sternly warned.

    “Do it again!” He giggled some more and his brawny chest danced another earthquake under my head. I pinched his nipple hard enough that he knew it meant ‘behave’, and he jumped again and giggled some more.
    “At least tell me which one!” I could feel his smile, even though I couldn’t see it.

    “Hephaestus.” I said flatly.

    “Which one was he?”

    “The ugly one.” I mono-toned. Another earthquake followed by more giggles.

    “Nuh-uh! There weren’t any ugly gods!” He said in boyish disbelief.

    “This one was. He was lame too. He was so ugly that his own mother threw him off of a cliff, into the sea.” I don’t know why I knew that story.
     
  11. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    He rolled over on his left side, facing away from me, and pouted and he wanted me to know it. He got huffy before he finally exhaled, “you called me ugly!” He whined like a schoolgirl. I rolled over and wrapped my arm around his big torso and brought my dick to his furry buns. The huffy schoolgirl couldn’t avoid a smile.

    I nibbled on the ear and placated him with the reminder that it was his schedule, and thus his fault that our rendezvous were few and far between. More sighs and he assured me it wouldn’t be that bad when classes started up again.

    When I’d had my second orgasm of the ‘night’ it was from blowing his powerful pole! I barely had to stroke myself when I saw his bellybutton do the humpback rollercoaster that I knew was a tell-tale sign of past-the-point-of-no-return.

    So I fisted my cock with the same fervor and gusto that I sucked the top half of his dick. I had started slow and taken an excruciatingly long time getting him here, and my jaw really hurt. I don’t think he ever knew it, and again it was thick, and creamy, and there was hell of a lot of it for a second round.

    We slept in, as long as we wanted, and when we finally wandered into the street the next morning, it was past noon. He looked at my faded shirt that had special meaning for me and announced, “Abercrombie & Fitch killed Ernest Hemmingway.”

    “Huh?”

    “A&F… the brand.” He pointed to my shirt.

    “Yeah. What about it?” It was a silly sentiment, but the shirt did have special meaning for me, and I felt like he was attacking it.

    “Ernest Hemmingway committed suicide with a gun he bought from them.” He said matter-of-factly.

    “I just thought they did clothes and sexy ads.” I smiled, then thought of Ernie, and stopped. “Why did he kill himself? He was a legend!” I was honestly intrigued.

    “Never in his own mind.” Evan Walker could still surprise me, every now and then.

    We ate, and this time he ate like I had the night before. It wasn’t pretty, and this time he was starving. When he caught my stare, he wanted to pause, then thought better of it, and it made him choke a little. “What? I’m hungry!” He tried to smile and wound up looking like a mouth I once saw on commercial about happy cows.

    He was boyish almost all of the time. He really did have that ‘aw shucks’ bit down, and it really did work on me. I knew better, and still it worked on me almost all of the time. We finished lunch and decided on windsurfing. I was better than he was, but that’s from years of practice. He was a natural athlete, torn rotator cuff or not. He was big and buff and a few more days like this and his tan would be back to normal.

    We romped and played in the white sands and blue waters that they show in the brochures, and we did it like five-year-olds. We garnered our fair share of looks, and we threw out a few, as well. We expended lots of energy and I hoped we hadn’t spent it all. I couldn’t wait for my next chance to turn this pitcher into a catcher.

    Dinner was good, the drinks were better, and the company was the best of all. The sex afterwards was amazing, and I went to sleep holding Evan, needing nothing else at all. Truthfully, I could have used an escape route, but that was just a kneejerk reaction.

    I never bothered to look for one when somewhere between conscious and sleep, Evan kissed my forehead and mumbled, “I love you.” I didn’t try to escape. I couldn’t move, and I knew he thought I was already asleep when that was the end of it before the snoring came. I didn’t sleep much.
     
  12. D_Doe_Ray_Mi

    D_Doe_Ray_Mi Account Disabled

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    You do paint such an amazingly clear picture with your masterful words, visually and emotionally. Looking forward to the continuation. Thanks!
     
  13. D_dlv03hzx

    D_dlv03hzx New Member

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    Awsome! I was hoping you'd continue.
     
  14. theboss30000

    theboss30000 New Member

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    So good, continue please, i'mwaiting for what i'm hoping, will come at the end ^^
     
  15. mistergrasso

    mistergrasso Member

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    Keep going.
     
  16. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    I was up before dawn, and when the sun rose, I missed it. I had perched myself on a bench at the window made for such occasions. The shutters were opened, and it was still mostly dark. I got lost in writing in my journal.

    If you’ve never watched the Sun rise from the water, start to finish, I highly recommend it. It’s an awakening of brightness, tranquility, rejuvenation and proof of a Higher Power. I wrote in a brand new journal today. I’d recently filled the last page of the previous one.

    I began writing a journal when I first got to the Islands. I bought it in a shop on St. Kitts. This was my second one. It was leather-bound and it looked like it had survived the Spanish-American war, but it was brand new. It started with blank pages that already looked aged, and I loved it. They made these here just like they had for centuries, for ship captains from sail to steam, and now today, for dimwits like me to jot their ‘feelings’ down in.

    It had taken me eight months to fill the first one up, and every page was scribbled, front and back. I started it just to doodle in while I was whittling away time waiting for passengers, cargo, or a cup of coffee. Island Time. I had filled up a lot of pages in the thick book, by the time I realized I was writing my story.

    It was cathartic, and the first few pages had a lot of anger, frustration, and dirty words. I used it to try to sort out what had just happened in my life after a brutal breakup and a major heartbreak. What I ended up with was how it happened, and maybe some closure. Mostly, I think it helped sort out things in my mind, and I think I learned a few things about myself along the way. This journal didn’t need to start with anger, but it did start out with a dirty word and frustration.

    Damn. Missed the sunrise, and I was looking for it!

    By the time I noticed Evan on his side, with his head propped in his hand watching me in silence, I had filled a page and a half and it was all about him. The width of his grin told me how long he’d watched me, without my knowledge. It creeped me out for some reason, the times I would wake up and he would just be watching me, while I slept. It wasn’t eerie, so much as I didn’t want him scrutinizing for imperfections.

    “Morning Sunshine!” He didn’t startle me. I returned his smile from my window bench, and I couldn’t decide if the sun was behind me or in front of me. “Sleep good?” Tall boy asked, then stretched and he was naked when he kicked off the sheets, and my eyes instantly fell to his closely trimmed bush, healthy cock and heavy balls.

    “Don’t move.” I grinned and turned to drink him in and jot it down. He wasn’t flat on his back, but mostly, and he was facing me with his muscular arms stretched over his head. His legs were crossed and his eyes were closed. The smile remained. He could be a ham when he wanted to.

    His hefty ballsack hung heavily and his chubby dick laid lazily over his twin huevos. The sack was hairless, trimmed with a lot of care, I hoped. The shaft was veiny, thick and plump, and threatening to come alive. When he stretched some more, things shifted and I wrote down every detail I saw. He was more of a shower, not a grower, and we’d never measured, but it was a little bit bigger than mine. Soft and hard. He was cut, and he was always immaculately manscaped.

    The light beginning to fill the room from behind me cast some perfect shadows for delineating the rips in his muscles. Mostly, I focused on the V centered just below his navel and above his crotch. It was a defined region, carved with effort in a gym. It was just one area of his body that flipped my switch. Sinews of a Spartan.

    He looked delicious and I wanted to devour him but he wouldn’t let me, and jumped up to go piss. I scribbled a few more notes in the journal, then put it away. When he came out of the bathroom he was wearing the tightest pair of white briefs that he ever owned, the pouch was full and inviting, but it meant he was hungry, and he was getting dressed.

    “Room Service?” I offered.

    “Don’t you need to check on your plane?” He wanted to know as he continued to dress.

    “Not ‘til later, the sun is barely up!”

    “Let’s go eat!” He said it like it would be an adventure, and he was moving quick.

    After a nearly silent breakfast where we were both busy shoveling food into our mouths, we made our fun by swimming with Sea Rays. The water was crystal-clear and the gentle beasts had a funny feel, and there was one that kept throwing me off. I had never done this before and decided the experience belonged in my journal.

    When we were nothing but exhausted smiles and tried to rest, we looked an awful lot like two monkey’s fucking a football trying to get into a double-person hammock at the same time. We finally smartened up, and when he got in and was settled, I made a wobbly roll into it and wound up beside him. Perfect! I couldn’t reach our drinks.

    We lounged and watched the water, and the people we could see on the beach were having a large time. We napped for a brief time, but soon I had to check on the plane. Evan went back to the room and his heavy eyelids made me believe he’d be sleeping when I got back.

    The plane was ready, but I wasn’t, so I asked for a few more mechanical favors to be added to the bill and my greasemonkey said no problem, but it would be tomorrow morning at the earliest, definitely by lunch. They were little things that I could have done myself, but I’d ignored them and now I felt guilty, and would just as soon have someone else do it. I wasn’t paying the bill, so I didn’t sweat it.
     
  17. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    Back in the room, I was surprised he was packing. “Where are you going?”

    “I figured the Clipper would be ready and you’d silver-wing-it back to St. Pete’s!” His smile was playful but tired. He continued to pack.

    “No, its not ready yet. You don’t have to go, do you?” It was my turn to look like a puppy dog. A lost one.
    “I have to get back, I have an interview and a meeting tomorrow morning with some pretty important people about the possibility of eventually adding some letters behind my name.” He could be a ham.
    “That blows!” I said and flopped onto the bed. I was pouting and I wanted him to know it. He noticed immediately and caged his hulking body above mine, and with those full lips, pecked my nose. When I blinked he was almost back to packing.

    Just before he could reach them, I snatched the briefs he’d taken off last night, and our smiles were evil and knowing when they met. I crumpled the briefs in my fist and quickly moved said fist out of the reach of his first swipe. He didn’t try very hard after that, and now he was finished packing.

    He dragged me into a hug and kiss that made me drop the briefs, or maybe I ran into it. I’m just not sure. Between fun, flirty kisses, I asked, “next month?”

    “It’s not going to be that bad now, I told you. The work I did in the States, over the break, will start to pay off soon. His voice was low, masculine, and reassuring, and I almost believed him.

    “We just have to schedule it better.” I reasoned. “I make it out to Cayman plenty!” Now who was the whiney schoolgirl?

    “Yeah! When I’m in class!” He defended feebly.

    “No! Not that one time. It was after midnight!” I don’t know why we were getting fired up about it. It was a tired argument that started nearly at our beginning. He’d said it like he meant it, and I almost believed him.

    “Yeah. And I was cramming for finals!” One final flirty kiss, backed by a wide grin with the pearly whites. Straight. Level. These were the teeth of a Dentist’s son. I felt they should be shown more often, but even though he smiled often and big, it was closed most of the time. Not now.

    He was enough inches over six feet that when we stood toe to toe, he had to look down at me. His look was never mesmerizing, just jovial and boyish and playful, and it never failed to take a piece of my heart. He could throw an intense stare like nobody’s business, but it was this look I would remember each time I closed my eyes, when I wanted him near. God I sound like a damp schoolgirl! Man up, beyotch!

    “The room’s good for the night. Stay! Have fun! Or, go home and bang Solana. If you do either one, sext me all about it!” He smiled and made his way to the door. He stopped and turned for a final glance, and added, “Pete. I love being with you, but I gotta go!”

    I smiled my best smile and said, “go save lives, fag!”
    He nodded his chin up and never missed a beat when his cocky grin said, “go be a hero, homo!” It was an inside joke to us both.

    He was gone, and I realized that paradise is still paradise when you’re lonely, it’s just not as much fun. I couldn’t get him off my mind, and I didn’t’ want to. I also didn’t want to go have ‘fun’. I’d had plenty of fun for a few days. What I wanted was more of that.

    He said he loved me! I heard it. No guy had ever said that to me the way he meant it. He can’t do that! I’d banished the word from my life. It seemed like a good idea at the time. That was the last time a guy was in a position to tell me he loved me, but that time, the guy didn’t.

    I wasn’t going to go down that road in my mind today. I was a different person then, and I had too many conflicts going on inside my head at the time. When I finally could accept my bi-sexuality to myself, it blew up in my face in a big, ugly way. That almost seemed like another lifetime ago.

    This was different. This was comfortable, with Evan. He was as new to things as I was, when we first started chatting. We talked about our experiences openly. I think I was more graphic and detailed than he was, but we painted a pretty good picture for each other. Suddenly, I even remembered I’d told him about love, and why I wasn’t in the mood for it.

    He agreed and said pretty much the same thing, except his hometown girl just wanted to break up because he chose a medical school on a Caribbean island. We’d agreed to stick to just the fantastic sex, after our first encounter. We were always playful and fun and we made sport of, and boasted to one another about, our exploits with women. He wanted me to bring him in with Solana and me, and I just didn’t want to do that to him.
     
  18. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    So that’s the way it had been, playful and comfortable. I really hadn’t done much to hide my attraction to guys here, but it was few and far between when I met one that flipped my switch enough for sex. Like I said, there had been only two over the last eight months. The fact is, I love women, and I find myself more sexually aroused by them a majority of the time. But still, from time to time there had been guys who caught my eye.

    Maybe it was the way the island life is, and people just don’t care as much about same-sex personal displays of affection here. I had a bartender tell me one time that he was always especially attuned to his gay clientele, even though he was attractive and straight. He did it because he knew it was the gay population that couldn’t have kids, and they had the disposable income for vacations and good manners to tip well. He added that they were catty and flirty with him, but he’d never had one cross the line. He said it like he figured it out long ago, and now he just wanted everyone else to know it too. “Dey’re just like us, mon! Dey luv, dey bleed, and dey just want a little respect. Dat’s all. We’re all da same, mon.”

    If it was the islands or not, I’ve never been sure, but things I did with Evan in public, I could have never done back home in California. When I came here, it was a fresh start for me, doing my dream job. I took some advice from Bubba Buffett, and when I changed my latitudes, I changed my attitudes.

    I was freer and more open with myself than I had ever dared before. I had been a fool, and it took a lot of pages in my first journal to realize I had let love slip through my hands. Eventually, I scratched that out and wrote: “I didn’t lose a love. I threw it away.”

    I wasn’t going to spiral down and get mired in sour thoughts of past lives. The last two days had been too perfect to spoil it now. I showered and pulled the cargo shorts out of my bag that I know shows off my ass and crotch. Sitting or standing, or casually leaning on a bar, they looked worn and stringy and that’s because I had worn them for a long time. When you want to be noticed, and you find something that works consistently, you stick with it. I’d worn these for years, but mostly because they were just plain comfortable.

    I stretched my Abercrombie shirt over my head after giving it a good sniff. The shirt I’d planned to wear today was a victim at breakfast, and that also left nothing suitable to wear to go nightclubbing. The faded shirt looked as old as my cargo shorts, but it wasn’t even close. They made the shirts to look old these days, right off the rack. This one fit me snugly, and it had special meaning for me.

    I was showered, deodorized, skin-revitalized, and with one squirt of cologne, I was atomized. I grinned back at the guy in the mirror like I would tonight. The toothy grin, and stoned eyes of a “hey baby!” I also tried out the one I’d use when I was bored or just couldn’t hear what the joke was, over the music. I tried out several more, and when I realized what I was doing I laughed at myself, and when I did, I looked back in the mirror, and that was the smile I would try to remember to use the most tonight.
     
  19. finsuptx

    finsuptx New Member

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    Thank you for reading, and if you've made it this far, please take a moment to comment and let me know what you think.
     
  20. SR_Les Intercourse

    SR_Les Intercourse New Member

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    great story.. continue
     
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