by Fifi Flowers
“You bring your own music? Beach yoga is about nature’s sounds. Nature’s easy, rhythmic flow. Being one with nature.”
I had to laugh. He was really into his yoga. “No coffee. My music shakes me awake.” And the sight of you.
“I’m afraid to ask what you were listening to during my class.”
I’d like to listen to his heavy breathing, I thought. God! He was so damn sexy.
“Let’s see.” I refocused on our conversation. Not an easy task. “This morning was a little Green Day, One Republic, Train…”
“American Idiot?” Was he name calling me? I laughed at my own thought.
“Actually, ‘Holiday.’ Appropriate, don’t you think?” You are being a cheeky girlee, Willow. I couldn’t help myself. He made me feel playful, among other things that involved wet panties.
“Not exactly,” he answered, his lips curving slightly. Oh! That smirk! I wanted to lick it right off of his handsome face. “So, you prefer sunset yoga to sunrise?”
“Yes. I like to sleep in.”
“But you did it this morning… used me for a wake-up call?”
Use him? Hell yeah! But, I pictured a wake-up call with him in a horizontal position… between…
“Geared up to shop?”
“Well, that was my excuse today. But, on vacations and spa trips, I’ve been known to get a little crazy. Break with routine. Try out different things.” An automatic wink escaped me. Oh, I was feeling a bit naughty. I decided to dial it down. “Back in the city, my main exercise is walking to and from work. I throw in yoga a couple times a week at home, then most weekends, I hit a class outdoors. Weather permitting, of course. I like to skip around to different places. I read The Weekly; they always post some great locations.”
“Those, I assume, are at sunset? Or at least, not at sunrise.”
“Yep.” I took a sip of my lethal, but yummy, cocktail. “During the summer, there are more evening sessions around the city, so I forgo indoor yoga at home.”
“City girl, huh?
“No details. Best if we follow some rules.”
“Okay. One more question. I’m concerned about you walking around your city at night.” Watching how he twisted his napkin and grit his teeth, he seemed genuinely uptight about my travels through the city. He didn’t even know me and already, he was concerned about my welfare. Boy was he good! I was absolutely sure Mr. Yoga would be getting laid. “I hope you’re not doing that alone,” he added.
“No worries. During the fall and winter, absent daylight savings time, I always hire a couple college students to walk me home. Unless I have a colleague or friend to walk with. Safety in numbers.” I tried to lighten the mood.
“Students?” His jealous tone did not go unnoticed.
I grinned. “Yes. Mostly art students from local schools. Ten dollars to walk a lady for a few blocks; not bad. I’ve gotten to know a few of them. I treat them to dinner, occasionally. Give them Christmas bonuses.” I shrugged like it was no big deal.
“That’s a great gig. I wish I had a hot lady boss when I was in college.” He smiled. I was excited to know that he thought I was hot. The feeling was definitely mutual.
It was getting warm on this cool evening, sitting next to this dashing—pun intended—yoga god. One too many drinks and I would be moaning my thoughts aloud. “I think I need some food.” As if someone heard me all the way in the kitchen, a seafood platter was delivered to our table. “And, it magically appears.”
“I hope you’re a fan of shellfish. Please tell me you’re not allergic. I should’ve asked…” He looked alarmed.
“Relax.” I touched his firm forearm. “I love it. Lobster, crab, shrimp, oysters… oh my! I’m in heaven.”
“We haven’t even gotten to that part, yet.” Oh, fuck me now! I thought. The look that had accompanied that statement could melt the snow off the polar ice caps, permanently.
Watching each other savor the succulent sea feast, I had never realized how sexy eating could be. His lips made it all the better. Putting an oyster shell to my own lips, I slid the slick pillow into my mouth. Its plump, fleshy texture and briny taste had me imagining his cock in my mouth. I felt my whole body shutter and heat up as I turned my full attention to the sound of a cracking crab shell made by his long fingers. The sight of him sucking out the delicate white meat with that incredible mouth—too much!
Sighing, I dipped a perfectly rosy-pink lobster claw into a cup of drawn butter. “Delicious,” I said with a moan. His finger reached up and wiped my lip. I nearly melted on the spot when he put that finger between my gaping lips. I guess he was thinking about me sucking his appendage, as well. Not one to disappoint, I sucked the butter cleanly from his finger before he removed it.
“Does anything remove that red lipstick from your mouth?”
I smiled thinking of a few things that might. “It’s magical. Guaranteed not to smear or come off during kissing. It’s completely kissable.”
“Is that so?” His blue eyes held my longing gaze.
“Maybe you should test it.” I couldn’t resist. Apparently, neither could he.
Smoothly he stood and pulled me up out my chair. Holy moly! He was accepting my challenge. Was he going to make a scene? No. He whisked me to a dance floor off in the distance. I hadn’t even noticed them playing in the background. I was mesmerized by his beauty… manly beauty… very manly… oh, so fucking manly.
In his strong muscular arms, we swayed together. His body became one with mine. His fluid yoga moves extended to the dance flooring. He had rhythm. Grace. He twirled me. He even dipped me when the song ended. But, no kiss.
Perhaps he thought a dance would simmer… cool down the temperature soaring between us. Just the opposite—it had my mind racing, wondering about his other mad skills. As we finished our dinner, we had a couple more drinks, and dessert. A man after my own heart, he insisted that sweets must be eaten to make dining complete; they were a necessary compliment to the meal. He was almost too good to be true.
Chapter Eight
Dash
I was dying, sitting so close to her without having the privilege of really being able to touch her, kiss her, or explore her. Though I was not technically an employee of the resort, I was a guest performer in an essence. People around us were all potential students. Some may have seen her in my class. No. I wasn’t a professor in a college setting, but I didn’t want my students knowing I was fucking a fellow pupil. No one needed to know my private business or with whom I was conducting it.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. I need to fuck you, now.” I had to get her alone. My body was literally experiencing pain.
“None taken. Check, please.” We both laughed. “Your room or mine?”
“I’ll meet you at yours. Give me fifteen. Number, please?” I asked. She provided me with the desired information. I kissed her cheek and left her looking baffled. I hoped she would be in her room when I got there. She didn’t appear too happy. I would have to explain when I had her tightly in my arms. After a quick protection pit stop to my room, I walked swiftly to hers.
Fuck me! Willow answered the door minus the tight dress that had hugged her firm body, full breast, and voluptuous ass earlier. Only red lace panties and a matching bra covered her delectable naughty bits. “I was just getting ready to get into bed. I thought you had abandoned me.” She had a sultry smile and a sparkle in her eyes that told me she expected me. Those damn sexy, red lips were taunting me. Not wasting any time, I took her into my arms and crushed my mouth to hers. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed her fingers through my hair, her nails scraped my scalp. I groaned against her lips. Our tongues busy in exploration mode, my hands unhooked and ripped the lace from her body. With no barriers to her supple skin, I lifted her up. She wrapped her long legs around my waist.
Finding the bed, I crawled onto it with her body firmly attached to mine. She let me know she was not letting go; clinging. Smiling, I eased her legs down, breakin
g away briefly to deposit my own clothes on the floor. With our naked bodies flush together, the sensation of her skin to mine was amazing. Different. Unlike I had experienced in the past. The energy between us elevated with each stroke of our hands, twist of our limbs.
Moving her into position, her flexibility allowed me to coax more pleasure from her. Without words, I knew where she desired my concentration. She contorted. She moved. Her strength held me, gripping me with her thighs. Rolling my body against her, I lashed my tongue along her breasts, worshipping her nipples equaling with my mouth. I paid close attention to her breathing. Every tweak elicited a different level of exhalation. Pinching. Biting. Pulling. Caressing. No two breaths were alike.
Rolling over, Willow on top, she pulled up. Hunger filled her icy-blue eyes as she rubbed against me with abandon. Leaning back, she gripped my hips and moved up and down my length, coating me with her essence. I was about to lose control as I had, recently, just thinking about her, but I refused to allow that lack of control to continue in the bed. I would be focused and succeed in pleasuring us both in a long, drawn out manner.
Needing her lips, I pulled her arms forward, gathered her dark hair in my hands, and brought her succulent mouth to mine. We eagerly devoured each other. Flipping her body in one fluid motion, I entered her swiftly. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to feel her around me, squeezing me with her velvety inner muscles. She felt so good, tight and slippery wet. Her contracting grip pulled me in as if it never wanted to let me to go, and I never wanted to leave. Lost in her warmth, I continued to penetrate her over and over, aiming for just the right spot that seemed to eradicate her breathing. Wanting more, she moved her legs up into a very familiar pose which drove me deeper inside of her. Driving home, we moved perfectly together as we both moaned and groan and panted in unison.
Being sated one time wasn’t enough. No sooner were we in relax mode, that one tiny movement initiated by either one of us sparked the other’s need. We were in sync. No words were needed. An all-consuming passion evoked us. A touch. A reaction. We flowed as one. Rushed and aggressive movements turned into slow and fluid. We had an ebbing, flowing connection like no other. Releases like no other. Had I ever enjoyed climaxes like these? No. Ours, together, were indescribable.
The quietness between us was unusual. But it seemed to take us to another level of awareness. Something totally different. No directing. No screaming. No name calling. The experience was enlightening. All communication, nonverbal. Only divine sounds: Breathing, whimpering, moans, and gasps.
The feeling. The touching. I skimmed every inch of her body. I knew which areas were more sensitive. Where I should stroke, graze, caress, fondle, and even tickle to get the best response. Her body shivered and blushed. Goosebumps appeared. Her skin felt alive just pressed up against mine.
Our maintained eye contact was powerful. At times, overwhelming. But I never diverted my eyes from her. I wanted to see every expression. Every emotion. Every smile. Every smirk. I loved how her eye lids grew heavy. How her eyes darkened. How they burnt with desire.
In one night, I had been ruined while having over-the-top, fucking amazing sex with my gorgeous dark-haired corporate-girl with icy-blue eyes. I could finally get her out of my every thought. I had found her. She had fulfilled her drunken promises. Only, they were better than even she had described. All of which, I had a feeling would cause more havoc to my life. I imagined always wanting more of her. And knowing that it was going be hard to leave her behind.
There was no right time for me to leave until it was absolutely necessary that I teach my morning class. How I would do it with so little sleep didn’t faze me. I was on a natural high. Not wanting to break our contact, not wanting to leave her warmth, I tried to coax her to join me to welcome the sunrise. “Hey, sleepy. You want to hit beach yoga with me?” I knew the answer.
“Yes. I am Sleepy. If you don’t leave me alone, I will turn into Grumpy.” She pulled the light cover up over her head and rolled onto to her stomach with a groan.
Leaving her to slumber, I kissed the top of her head still peeking out. Jotted down a note with an address, telling her where to meet me later for a snorkeling trip. Then, I left to greet the sun along with my fellow early risers. I needed to clear my head after spending a night with her. Sex with her had been off the fucking chart.
Other retreat sex had been hit or miss. Most of the time, it was just a body for sex. I did my own thing during the days, and usually, only hooking up with a plaything at night. Sometimes, there was more than one that I fucked. Of course, they knew and had agreed to a one-time roll or to join in a little fun together. One thing was for certain, they knew they were just a number.
Everything about Willow was different. I wanted to get to know her as much as she would let me. I wanted to spend time with her, partaking in other activities besides sex. Hopefully, she wouldn’t disappoint me. The thought of her not standing on the dock in a few hours was not fathomable. She had agreed to spend time with me. I was certain she would be there.
Positive, motivational phrases to my class elevated my frame of mind. Feeling great, my class could only benefit from my upbeat mood. I was focused. I was relaxed. I was on my game. My students and I powered through each bend, each stretch, and each breath with vibrant energy. Some sessions were earth shattering; that morning was one of them. Everyone felt it. I realized that as they expressed their thoughts to me as we all left the beach. I even had an extra spring in my step, anticipating more time engaged in a multitude of extracurricular activities with Willow for the next few days, alone.
Away from the resort, I was able to relax. I was able to be affectionate. I was able to let my hands roam. I was able to attack with my mouth. Unfamiliar thoughts plagued me where she was concerned. Uncharacteristic approaches, compared with women in the past. I was about to swim—pun intended—in a sea of uncharted territory.
Arriving at the small wood-planked dock area in the early afternoon, I saw Willow waiting. Gorgeous. Standing in a white lace, flower cover up, her bright neon-yellow bikini was visible on her exquisite shape. The low, v-neck of the dress showed off her incredible tits. Her almost dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Her beautiful icy-blue eyes were hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. Her signature red lipstick was painted on expertly. She was pure perfection.
Adjusting my board shorts to conceal my desire, I advanced to her side. With a quick hello, I placed a chaste kiss on her inviting lips. Then I helped her into a small aluminum canopied fishing boat that shuttled us to a large catamaran, with hot-pink striped sails named, The Sea Goddess Beaotche, moored just off the shore in deeper waters just past a small sandbar.
On board, we were greeted by our native scuba-snorkeling guides. Giving a few safety tips and procedures, they pointed out the location of life vests and inflatable rafts, should they be needed. Instructed about dangers that could arise, they moved on to the day’s itinerary. “We’ll be taking you to a few spots. However, the winds have been churning up the waters a bit. Clarity may vary from location to location. There are some great reefs on this side of the island. A few coves, as well. Coves may be our best bet to see a lot of sea life. We’ll do our best to make your snorkeling experience a good one!”
Joined by a joyful, rambunctious bunch of college students, it looked like we would be having a lively time. Definite partiers; they appeared to have jump started their day with a few cocktails. I guess it was better than being stuck on a boat with a bunch of sticks-in-the-mud.
Sailing to the first area turned out to be a bust for us. After floating around in murky water, only seeing a few random fish we gave up and waited for the others. Visibility was very limited, but party group seemed to be entertained by whatever they thought or happened to see. We didn’t see anything like they were boasting about: the colors of the reef, the various fish. They had to be high on something more than just life.
While we waited, we unwrapped our lunch. The main event—shitty
sandwiches—assaulted our palates. Some island specialty gone wrong? Pulled pork cooked with overly sweetened pineapple, topped with melted Swiss cheese and placed on sweet buns. Not a favorite pairing. All items separate were good; together, not so much. Luckily, the island brand ale and chips were good. The tropical fruit, that accompanied our lunch, had a little funky fish taste to it, but once rinsed off with beer, it was edible.
At least my excursion date was delightful and the surroundings were spectacular. While the churning water around the vessel was too muddled to see anything, off in the distance, the lush-green coastline, with small stretches of sandy beach and lava rock, was beautiful. The sun was intense, but a gentle breeze swirled around, cooling our skin. Willow and I sat together on the front of the catamaran. While I reclined, she put her head in my lap. I stroked her ponytail, occasionally wrapping it around my hand. I wished we had the boat all to ourselves, thinking about how I held her in place the night before and drove into her warmth. No such luck, I settled for fucking her mouth with mine.
Once the partiers were aboard, eating their lunch, we moved on to a more remote and protected cove. Further proof that our fellow snorkelers were stoned on something, they devoured the sandwiches and praised the taste. No. No. No. Willow nor I could be convinced the food was good. Even the guides, with their own sacks, obviously containing different food than ours, looked puzzled. Whoever was doing their catered lunch boxes needed a few cuisine lessons. Or better yet, the scuba company should hire a new food vendor altogether. I was sure to express my opinion on a comment card that had accompanied our trip packet when I booked the excursion: A = for adventure. F+ = for food. And, I was being nice.
Despite the array of culinary non-delights, the new location was perfect. The water was calm. Crystal clear. A large reef to one side and a nice swimming area on the other, where we saw sea turtles moving through the water. A white, sandy beach framed by cliffs, palm trees, and lush greenery spanned the inlet. Above the shoreline, a few private villas were perched. The remoteness looked inviting for playtime with Willow. Perhaps I could take her behind a grove of palm trees and ravage her, I thought, when we dropped anchor.
