Tropical heat raises more than the temperature for an adventurous guy hell-bent on heavenly satisfaction.
Spring is the time of renewal, or so they say. Green things begin growing again — the first leafy stirrings after the bleakness of winter. The world comes alive once more, tentatively at first, as uncertain as a newborn deer.
But summer, to me, has always been the truest time of living. After spring has restored the rightness of things, here comes summer, with its sweat, its swagger, its seething sense of seasonal immortality. Summer is life everlasting!
I was in need of some sizzle, having lived through a dreary, wintry patch. My career had been successful but taxing nevertheless. Worse still, my love life had stumbled through a series of romantic missteps — one after the other, woman after woman. Things had gone cold for me, and my spirit had withered on the vine.
But with summer setting in, I knew my fortunes would change. I had plenty of vacation time and had the means to send myself just about anywhere I liked.
What I liked was the tropics.
I flew myself to a sweltering latitude, a zone of rich heat and vibrant color. I didn’t give a damn that it was off-season, that people normally went there in the northerly winter months. The hotter, the better for me. That was exactly how I wanted it. I would sweat away the blues and recharge myself in the searing sunshine.
I also hoped to get myself some hassle-free pussy. My cock had its needs, too.
Though I hadn’t been to that particular destination before, I’ve always had a long-abiding love for tropical realms, and I’d had the type of escape I was craving before.
In my second year of college I’d scraped together enough to get myself to Hawaii. I had been killing myself, working for that business degree. At the time, school was simply frying my brain. I needed a break. My body was brimming with the juices of life, and I desperately wanted to pump some of that juice into a willing woman.
As I recall, I didn’t even bother booking a room. I couldn’t really afford one, to be honest. Instead, I stashed my bag in an airport locker after changing into swimwear, then I hitchhiked to a beach. Everything was so exotic. The trees were strange but beautiful. The air was as warm as a drawn bath.
When I was finally walking on the sunbaked sand, the colors assailed me: vividly blue sky, sparkling emerald water and the dazzling variations of skin and hair tones on the barely clad women strewn along the shore and bobbing in the waters. The girls ran and splashed and laughed, and I gawked at them, probably somewhat idiotically. Even so, many smiled back at me. There was a general sense of camaraderie — and abandon.
I swam, got a meal and made a few friends among the other college-age folks who’d gone there for a break. A great giddiness filled me as the burdens of study were forgotten. It was summer, and I was living in the moment, vivacious and thriving.
Some of my new pals invited me to a party. They had a suite in one of the hotels. When I showed up after retrieving some appropriate clothes from my airport locker, the shindig was in full swing. People were dancing and mingling. A festive feeling filled the air.
During the bash, I met a girl who introduced herself as Vivia. She was a sweet thing, with a pretty face and a perfectly toned body. We hung out awhile, making small talk, as a current began to flow between us. Feeling charged, we switched to flirting, and that went well.
“Hey, Dirk,” she said with a coy smile. “Want to go for a walk?”
I hoped to hell that was a euphemism. I also hoped she had a room. I’d said nothing to anybody about my poor man’s holiday. I was too embarrassed to mention it.
Vivia and I went strolling in the moonlight. A gentle breeze blew, without a hint of chill. People were still frolicking on the beach, but as we got further away from the hotel, the crowds thinned out and gradually disappeared. Waves gently slapped the shoreline. Vivia and I held hands, and that in and of itself was a thrill for me.
When she tugged my hand, halting me and looked up a little shyly, I moved to kiss her. I didn’t rush the moment. It was, frankly, a perfect kiss, just intimate enough, and leaving me with a lingering warmth. Her fingertips grazed my cheek.
“You’re nice, Dirk.”
“You’re nice, too, Vivia.” Romance postcard dialogue. But I was being totally sincere, and I knew she was, too. There was a good vibe between us.
We walked on, me now with my arm around her. I felt the wiry reality of her body against mine. She’d mentioned being a swimmer. She certainly had a swimmer’s form. Out on the slowly rolling ocean, the moon shimmered and danced. A bright pearl of light in the sky was Venus. Everything was beautiful — Vivia especially.
Once we were far away from the hotel and its people, she paused again.
“Want to go for a swim?” she asked, a tantalizing note in her voice.
“I didn’t bring trunks.”
“Good.” Her grin was as bright as the starlight.