Pacific Adventure

Special thanks to KC for this story idea.

It was her first time in Hawaii; her first views had both dazzled and disappointed. The airport was ugly. All airports are ugly--and the high-rise hotels and condominiums along the Honolulu beachfront were an offense to the eye, especially when juxtaposed with the hallucinatory blue of the water, the polar glare of the sand, and the greenery that ran riot everywhere else.

Now, though... She took a deep breath and gazed out over the water. A prop plane and two boats later, she was motoring slowly toward a small island, and she was in Eden. The air was warm and humid, and the wind off the approaching land smelled like green, life and death, that primal stench of burgeoning growth and rotting decay... also fish, and salt, water. All the tastes mingled on her tongue and in her nose, and she was smiling as the boat bumped against the dock.

And there he was, waiting for her, smiling widely. She was grinning, uncomfortable and excited, as she reached up and took his offered hand. First contact--his hand was warm and strong and dry, and it was the first time she had ever touched him. They had never set eyes on each other before this minute. Hours and hours of online chat, some phone calls, e-mailed pictures. And now here he was, tall and handsome, wearing shorts and sandals and a faded blue t-shirt.

She stepped up onto the dock and into a hug. He felt as good as she had imagined, and smelled nice, too, a clean male smell, soap and skin and something else, masculinity maybe.

"You're here!" he said cheerfully, as though he couldn't believe it.

"I am here," she agreed, and stepped back to smile up at him.

"Finally," he said, smiling back into her eyes. He moved around her and picked up her bag; she tipped the boat captain and they walked up the dock, hand in hand. She could see the rooftops of a small town in the trees, and there were several beach shacks set up further down from where they were; the land rose toward the center of the island, and the morning air was sweet and warm.

"You packed light," he said, hefting her bag.

"Hey, it's Paradise, right? Nice and warm."

"I'm hoping you won't need clothes most of the time," he said, smiling wickedly and caressing her hand with his thumb, a tiny touch that nevertheless sent small shivers up her spine.

"That's my plan," she said lightly, looking away, out at the beach, to hide her hot face.

"Good," he said, and now his voice was low and intense; he was still smiling.

I wonder when he'll kiss me, she thought, slightly dizzy, smiling herself.

He led her up the beach to a parking area, and opened the door of his jeep for her. There were a few other people around. He tossed her bag into the back seat, then climbed in to drive her... wherever. Anywhere, she thought.

The road wound around the island, occasional glimpses of the sea to the right, the mountain (volcano? she had no idea) rising to her left, and everywhere green, green, green, every shade from nearly black to palest of the pale. Flowers flashed by as they drove, shocking glare of colors against the omnipresent verdure; birds flickered through the trees, or skimmed the blue sky above.

"How was your plane ride?" he asked.

"Fine... Smooth. I slept most of the way."

"When does James arrive?"

"Tomorrow night. He is giving me a whole day and night with you... really two days," she replied, smiling widely.

"Mmmm. Good," Marc said again, and put his hand over hers, another little caress. She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles lightly, let it drop, still over hers.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said. "Although I have to admit, I am looking forward to him being here, too." She grinned.

"I'm sure," he teased. "Greedy."

"Absolutely," she agreed. They drove on, still chatting, still holding hands, except when he needed to shift.

James was her husband, and he had made the arrangement for her to have a night alone with Marc. He wanted to meet his wife's "Internet boyfriend", but knew how much Mari wanted to be alone with Marc, too. James had been aware of the online friendship since Day One. He and Mari had talked for years about bringing a friend into their bed, for fun, for spice. And when Mari started talking to Marc online, and confessed to James that she really liked him, she and her husband had decided that maybe he should be the one. Marc was consulted and was willing, and had set them up with a rental cabin near his home on the little island. And now it was all getting very real for them all, very close. Excitement and nerves warred in Mari's mind, and so far, excitement was winning.

Marc looked as good as she had expected. He was older than her--maybe 6 or 7 years? And tall, and nicely lean. She had seen his iron gray hair in pictures, and his kind face and merry eyes; she had heard his soft, wry voice on the phone. But she had worried that, despite regular fantasy exchanges and bouts of damn good cybersex, the chemicals wouldn't be there.

So far she didn't think she had needed to worry; all she really wanted to do was tackle him right now--kiss that smiling mouth and reach into his shorts and see what that was like... She was already thinking ahead to having him inside her, as she had fantasized so often... But she was old enough to enjoy the build-up, too. There was no hurry.

They pulled onto a bumpy side road, just a track, really, headed toward the water. Two winding minutes later they were there. He turned off the car and they sat looking at the cabin as the engine ticked and cooled. It was an old, weathered-looking place, dark and cool looking, with a small screened-in porch and four comfy-looking lawn chairs set out. They climbed out and walked to it, and Marc pulled a key from his pocket after some looking. (Let me do that, she thought, and stifled a giggle.)

Inside, the cabin was sparsely furnished, all one big room, with a kitchenette and dining room set in one corner. A couch and arm chair made up the living room, and a big king sized bed with a handmade quilt dominated the back of the room. A little door in the corner was half-open onto the bathroom. Marc dropped her bag onto the couch and turned around, his arms stretched wide. "Your castle," he said. "I live about four minutes' walk down the beach, that way," he pointed. "The beach is right through the trees, and it's pretty private. A few surfers, but the waves are small here, so although you might get a walker, it's mostly deserted. I got some groceries for you--breakfast stuff, and fruit, and some tea and soda."

She closed the door behind her and turned back around, looked at the cabin and at Marc. "Thank you so much," she said. "It's absolutely gorgeous--just perfect." Her nerves were back in full force, alone in a small room with this man... He looked a little nervous, too, standing over there by the couch, not sure what to do with his hands.

The silence threatened to grow awkward.

"So..." she said, and then laughed.

"So..." he echoed her, laughing too.

"I just have to ask," she blurted suddenly. "What do you think?" She couldn't meet his eyes. "Are you still interested? I mean, I know I probably look awful, after the plane rides and then the boats, and sleeping on the plane..." She was smiling a little, self-conscious and petrified.

He actually thought she looked... delicious. Her pictures had shown the long dark hair, the enormous, generous smile, the trim figure... But in person she was magnetic, slim and quick and funny. Her voice was low and rich, and every time she met his eyes he got hard. He had known her mind, to some extent or another; seeing her attached to this voluptuous body was almost more than he could take.

He walked toward her, slowly. "What do I think..." his voice was considering. "What do I think." He stopped right in front of her. She was smiling now, blushing, looking down at his chest, not into his face. He leaned over her, braced his hands on the door behind her, on either side of her shoulders, trapping her body within his arms. "I think..." he moved forward, against her, backing her up right against the door, "that I really..." she looked up at him suddenly, a barely suppressed giggle in her face, "really..." he leaned down and stopped with his mouth an inch from hers, his lips curved in a slight smile, "want to kiss you right now." He stopped, staying where he was; her arms came up, around his neck, and she leaned against him and opened her mouth eagerly to his.

It was an excellent kiss, deep and passionate and playful. Her lips were soft, and her mouth tasted like peppermint; her hair smelled like flowers, and her soft round breasts were crushed against his chest. Her tongue stole into his mouth and played there, tasting and sucking a little, he gathered her up, into his arms; he was kissing her mouth, her neck, lifting her heavy, shining hair and kissing the delicate place just beneath her ear. She sighed softly, letting her head fall back; then she stopped him, gently, holding his hands and leaning against him. "Oh good," she said. "That's what I was thinking, too." He laughed a little, his throat dry, hard as a board under his shorts. He leaned down to kiss her again, hungry. "Not everything at once," she said into his ear, sighing again with pleasure. "Save some for later. We have all day and all night."

"Oh, the things I am going to do to you," he said into her shoulder.

"I am in trouble," she said, her voice rippling with laughter.

They spent the morning walking around town, arm in arm. She wanted to look into all the little tourist shops, cracking up at the uglier gewgaws, holding Hawaiian shirts up to see how they would look on her (or him). He took her to lunch and they ate Asian food with chopsticks, sitting outside, dropping food sometimes, laughing and joking. And when no one was looking she might push him back against a clothing rack and kiss him wildly, sliding her hands down to squeeze his ass through the shorts; or he might sweep her up into a hot, crushing embrace, his mouth hard on hers, hands kneading her shoulders or running over the curve of her breast or bottom, over the flowered dress she wore.

After lunch they walked to his house and he grabbed a couple of surf boards, then they walked down the beach to her cabin, and--while he waited outside, threatening to come in and help--she changed into a bikini, bright green against her fair skin. When she came outside he almost grabbed her right then--he could see her nipples against the thin fabric of the bikini, and the soft curve of her stomach was enough to drive a man to drink, but instead he shrugged his t-shirt over his head and they went down to the water.

They paddled out into the waves, and he showed her the basics--how to lay on and paddle the board, how to stand, how to body surf with the board, and finally the very beginnings of real surfing. He loves holding her slender waist in his hands, and the buoyant feeling of her body in the water. After actually staying up for a few seconds, she jumped up in excitement and kisses him.

The kiss change, deepened. There was no one else on the beach; clouds massed overhead for the usual afternoon rain shower, and the very few other people disappeared. They broke apart, gasping for air and smiling, and the rain began, a few fat drops, then a deluge, washing the salt from their bodies and flattening the waves where they stand in the knee-deep sea.

She laughed, the sound almost lost in the roar of falling water, and looked up at the sky, eyes closed, mouth open to the fresh water. He leaned over and kissed her throat, then her chin and her mouth, his hands still on her waist. She responded powerfully, her mouth eager against his, her closed eyelashes spiky against her cheek, arms around his neck, body soft against his.

He pushed down the straps of her bikini, and she broke away and turned her back, offering the bow to be untied. She lifted her long, dark hair from her wet skin, out of the way, and he obliged, catching the bikini top as it fell; he threw it hard, up onto the sand. He reached around her body and cradled her breasts in his hands; they are small and soft, the nipples standing up erect in the rain, thick and long, hard as small rocks. He rolled her nipples in his fingers--gently, oh gently--and she leaned back against him, shivering a little, feeling his cock against her lower back, hardening and straining to be released from his trunks.

She turned in his arms and they kissed again, his hands reaching down to her bottoms, pushing them down; she stepped out and grabbed them before they floated away, throwing them to join their mate on the beach. Now she stood there completely naked, long legs, small waist and breasts, the dark narrow triangle of her pubic hair prickly against his leg as she melded her body to his. She slid one hand between them, reaching into his shorts... Oh yes. He was hard hard hard, and she pushed his trunks down and off; away they went to join the little pile of wet clothes on the sand, and his cock sprang free and upward, long and eager. She grasped it firmly and stroked it a couple of times, loving the feel of it, loving his low groan into her hair; she leaned over and lightly kissed the head, licking delicately.

She stood and led him into the shallower water, to the place where the waves rolled onto the sand; the rain had slackened, and she went down in front him and took his cock between her lips in one smooth motion, her warm wet mouth sliding down the shaft, tongue circling his head, taking him deeper in, almost all the way in except that he was just too long. She sucked him hard for a moment, feeling him harden even more, grasping his ass to bring his body in more, feeling his hands tangled in her wet hair as he struggled to keep his balance. She let his cock slide out of her mouth and licked it from head to root, then took his balls--oh, she loved his hair between her teeth--into her mouth, rolling them gently around and then letting them out so she could go back up and take him in again.

But he sank down, kneeling to face her, and they kissed again, her mouth salty and wet from the rain and his skin. The sand was gritty and hard beneath her knees, and the rain became just a light, warm drizzle; the clouds were breaking up in the west and the sun, low on the sea, poured honey-like light across the ocean toward them. His hands were all over her, stroking and teasing and seeking; one hand dropped down and then slid up her thigh. He slid two fingers delicately into her pussy, feeling the wet heat and fighting not to come as she opened her mouth and moaned into his, clinging to him and melting, eyes closed. "I want to be inside you," he said hoarsely, running his thumb over her clit as she shuddered. "I can't wait any longer."

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Yes," she said simply, and then she lay back onto the sand, the water rolling up around her and then ebbing back as she let her legs fall open to him. For a moment he simply knelt there, looking at her beautiful pussy, flushed and swollen and open, then he leaned forward and lowered himself into her, slowly, gently, pushing his cock further and further in, his eyes locked on hers. She relaxed, melting into it, opening wide and feeling her pussy flood with wetness as her desire peaked softly, feeling the gentle orgasm wash over her body and arching to take him in more quickly, buried to the root in her wetness.

"Oh my god," she said in a low voice, and then there were no more words, just the slow steady rhythm of his strokes, pushing her wide open and moving into her core. She could feel every movement, the long strong stroke of his shaft moving into her and then out again, wave after wave of orgasm rising in her body, building to some shuddering ecstasy.... She knew it was there, waiting, and he seemed to know it too, because he was moving faster, losing control, thrusting harder, his face distracted and intense, muscles tight and powerful as he pumped deeper and harder.... "Oh my god I'm cumming" he said. "Cum with me, cum with me sweet Mari," and she did, crying out, arching her back, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as she rocked with his thrusts, her hands tight on his ass, pulling him urgently in as she groaned, grinding herself into his cock.

"Fill me, oh, fill me up," she moaned, and he did, shooting his hot, sticky cum deep into her pussy, thrusting and thrusting again and again.

He came to rest atop her, and they both lay still for a few moments, feeling the intensity ebb away, leaving joy and laughter in its place; he leaned on his elbows to keep his weight off her, but she pulled him down, crushing him to her in a powerful embrace. There were no words for a moment more, as they kissed and held one another on the sand.

"Oh my GOD," she finally said, and laughed out loud, filled and fulfilled. He was still inside her--she hated to let him go--and he raised himself up and looked down at her.

"Oh my GOD," he echoed, a chuckle in his voice. "I knew it would be good, but I didn't know it would be *that* good." He rolled over, sliding out, and she made a little noise of protest; he laughed, sitting up beside her. "Don't worry," he teased. "I'll be back for more soon. As soon as possible, anyway," he amended, grinning ruefully.

"Damn right," she said, sitting up beside him. "Man, I am so sandy!" She stood before him, utterly at home in her skin, laughing and brushing herself off. "I need a shower."

"Me too," he said, looking up at her lovely body, bathed in golden sunlight. "I'm inviting myself to join you."

"Gotta catch me first," she replied, and raced up the beach toward the cabin. He jumped up and ran after her, laughing.