A Golden Moment 1

You’d finally made it. After saving for so long, you were sitting on an airplane that was making it’s final approach to Honolulu. The day was unbelievable out there – sunlight so bright you could almost feel it on your skin already. The cotton-candy clouds billowed pristinely against the clear blue of the late afternoon sky and you could already see the palm trees waving in the gentle ocean breeze. There was the craggy hull of Diamond Head, the green carpet of Punchbowl, the nautical traffic in Pearl Harbor and finally the long reef runway that was the plane’s destination.

The first thing you notice after entering the terminal is the air. It is thick and warm, an intangible tropical blanket that drapes gently over all your senses. The salt breeze is a tang in your nostrils, punctuated by the sweetness of flowers wafting in from a distance.

Peace and quiet for a week! And even the “crowd” at the airport is small and pleasant as you grab a taxi to take you downtown. Your hotel reservation is in a place called the Hale Koa, right on Waikiki Beach. From what you’ve heard, that’s where you can find anything you want on the island, along that strip. Unless, of course, if you’re a surfer, then you’d have to go up to North Shore, but that was only a half hour away.

The resort is huge but that same sense of calm hangs here too. Your room is small but adequate and cozy. You don’t plan to spend very much time in here anyhow.

After a shower to wash away the long hours of flight, you dress casually, planning on a walk through the district and an informal dinner somewhere. Watching the crowds from your room’s balcony, you realize that shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops are the accepted style of dress here, so you follow custom, relishing the comfort and freedom you feel away from all the bonds of home and work. Everyone seems so laid back here.

Again, you are amazed at how peaceful the city is, even amidst the nightlife crowds. It’s clean here, you see no fights, you don’t even feel the urge to continually check to make sure your wallet is still in your pocket.

After an hour or so of walking up one side of the strip and down the other, and after pausing to view the most wonderful sunset on earth, you give in to the gnawing hunger growing in your belly. One of the little kiosks you approach smells too good to pass by. You read their short menu and get an explanation of several items you don’t recognize, then decide to have a pork manapua and plain saimin. You lean on a nearby railing and try the new dishes.

The manapua is a thick doughy bland bread baked with a sweet, spicy pork filling. It melts pleasantly on your tongue – a different taste than you’ve ever known. Even though it nearly fills you up, the saimin noodles are calling your name. This is a very Japanese taste – these thick egg noodles – but you realize that about 60% of the people you’ve encountered this afternoon are Japanese.

Now, feeling happily satisfied, you want to find a little of that party atmosphere that Waikiki is famous for.

Moving away from the beaches, you see that there is no shortage of places to go. The bars are numerous – all advertising some discount or enticing tidbit. But instead of wanting to watch a stripper up on a stage, you’d rather go somewhere you can meet someone to carry on a conversation. Someone to talk to, to get to know, possibly to touch before morning.

One place finally strikes your fancy. It’s a dance club called Oceans. It seems to be filled to capacity but you often enjoy just sitting and watching people interact. Besides, the more people there, the better your selection of “company”.

You take a seat at the bar, order a beer, then turn and lean back casually as you survey your surrounding. There are many beautiful girls, in pairs, in groups, some even alone, but to your slight disappointment, they all seem so alike. All cut from the same pattern. Until you spot a small table in one of the far corners.

A double take brings your eyes back to them. Two women. A far cry from the others in the bar. Not only in looks, but mostly in mannerisms. For one thing, they both seem a little older, maybe late twenties, possibly early thirties. It is the confidence and grace in their movements that sets them apart. A kind of self-esteem that only comes with experience.

The older one – she just seems a little older somehow – is tall. She is sitting but her height is evident in the length of her torso and in her long slender arms. She is dark, with short black hair, black eyes and dark skin. Her features are angular and fine. There is a wild quality in her eyes, as if she’s already seen all the surprised the world could hold for her. You can’t fully see what she’s wearing – just a black, satiny vest up top which shows a shadow of ample cleavage. You feel a stirring between your thighs as you imagine what kind of legs this woman must have.

In contrast, the other girl is almost a negative of the tall woman. She is very petite – tiny, you might even say. Her hair is long; golden-blonde tresses that cascade like liquid over her shoulders and down below the level of the table. Even at this distance, you can see pale eyes sparkling mischievously. Her skin is fair and unblemished as fine porcelain. Her hand holds her drink daintily – like a child’s hand but her whole demeanor emanates just as much confidence as her counterpart.

Oh, what a night with these two would be like, you think! With yourself growing harder, your boldness begins to grow too. You reach out and stop a passing waitress.

She smiles as you make your request. Send both the ladies a drink and tell them it would be your pleasure to join them. As the waitress moves away, and your gaze turns back to the women, you are struck by a sudden thought. Might they be lesbians and turn you down coldly? Of course, if they were merely bisexual, well… that opened up all kinds of possibilities for the night.

You watch the waitress intently as she goes about her task. There are a few flutters of anxiety in your stomach but you mentally shrug. It works or it doesn’t work, it’s not the end of the world.

When the waitress points in your direction, you smile as the women look you over. You can’t discern their reaction because the most that either of them does is smile sensuously. The waitress nods and heads back towards you. The aloofness of the women is more intriguing to you than a blatant welcome would be.

“They want you to come over,” the waitress answers your questioning look. She smiles as if sharing a secret and leans in close to you. “They think you’re cute.”

You can’t help the sigh of relief. After draining your beer and ordering another, you calmly cross the floor.

“Hello,” you say when you are near.

“Hello,” the dark one answers. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you for the drinks,” the pale one says.

“You’re very welcome.” You notice they are drinking beer also.

“I like your accent,” the small one says. “Where are you from?”

This opens the door for a long conversation and quite a few more drinks. You take turns buying rounds for each other until the three of you are pleasantly drunk.

The women both become more talkative as the drinks set in, but neither loses their composure. The tall one – Joanna from Las Vegas – has a sharp and cynical sense of humor and you trade jokes that keep you all laughing. The small one – Angela – has a faint but charming Southern lilt to her voice. She tells you she was raised in Georgia.

You want to make a joke about eating a Georgia peach but you refrain until you better know where you stand with them.

The club grows louder and the crowd gets very thick as midnight approaches. After the third time the women are hit on by rude drunks, Joanna says, “Let’s get out of here. Our place isn’t far away.”

Luckily, they are smart enough not to try to drive their car so you wind up in another taxi – you sitting between the two of them.

The drive lasts only ten minutes – up to one of the richest sections on the island. It is a ridge that overlooks Honolulu called Hawaii Kai. The houses are enormous, most likely beginning at a million dollars and going higher. However, it is not the scenery you are interested in. Joanna has her hand in your lap and Angela has her mouth on yours. The little one tastes of beer and something sweeter.

You continue to probe her warm mouth with your tongue and let your hands roam over her soft body while Joanna has the driver stop at a corner store. She dashes in to get some more beer. And yes, her legs are the kind of long that make men crawl and beg.

Angela’s legs – highly visible under her white mini-dress – are plump but well-toned. Her breasts are small, just a mouthful, and easily accessible when you push the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The cab driver is watching with a leer in his rearview mirror.

At their house – their mansion is what you think – Joanna pays for the taxi as Angela takes off at a run around to the back of the house. She’s gotten it into her pretty drunken head that she really wants to go for a swim. While Joanna pays, she shouts, “Jack! Follow her so she doesn’t drown herself!”

You hurriedly rush after her, trying not to stumble in the darkness. You feel drunk but not incapacitated, not yet anyway.

Once around back, you see that security lights have come on automatically and illuminated the pool with a warm yellow light. It’s a large pool with a diving board at one end and an adjacent hot tub at the other. Angela is still moving towards the water’s edge, her dress in a pile a few feet behind her. As she walks, she tugs down the white thong panties she was wearing and tosses them away. Before you can call out to her, she’s stepped into the water.

You stand on the edge and watch her, floating gently on her back towards the center.

When she sees you, she laughs and swims back, splashing at you playfully. “Come on in, Jack! It feels great!”

You shrug. No reason not to. You begin to strip off your own clothes and dive in beside her. The water is cold!

Joanna arrives now. “No fair!” she cries. “You’re starting without me!” You stop swimming and watch her get naked. Her body is like a cat, all smooth lines and grace.

She takes three beers and tosses two out to you, one for you, one for Angela. After popping the top on hers, Joanna slips into the water too.

There’s a little more talk, a little playful splashing and a little more drinking. Despite the cold of the water, you’ve had a hard-on since you got into the cab and it has only gotten harder. You figure it’s time for things to happen.

As Angela swims by, you grab her gently and pull her up close to you. She wiggles against you, trying to escape but not trying too hard. You put a hand on the back of her head and kiss her roughly. She seems to melt in your arms and you feel hers circle your neck.

When you break the kiss, she whispers, “But you have to let me go. I gotta pee. All the beer’s getting to me.”

Her legs have floated up and wrapped around your waist. Your cock is rubbing against her warm fuzzy crotch. “Go ahead and do it,” you tell her. “We’re in a pool.”

She seems to weigh that decision and then shrugs. You feel her shiver in your arms and you reach one hand down between her legs. The warm liquid flowing out of her contrasts against the cold water around you and gives you shivers of your own. You give her clit a few light strokes as she pees and you see the delight in her face at the new sensation.

“That’s neat” she coos, rubbing herself harder against you.

“It can feel even neater,” you tell her, kissing her again.

Joanna has noticed this activity and she swims up, wanting to know what’s going on. Angela describes what she did.

“That could be fun,” the tall one comments, “But I’d rather be out of the pool where I could feel it better.” She swims up under your other arm and you get to taste her now. She kisses harder than Angela. Vive la difference.

Joanna’s hand goes between your legs again, stroking your hardness and rubbing you pleasingly between Angela’s puffy lips. There is a slick wetness down there that has nothing to do with the pool water.

“Let’s get out then,” you suggest and they both agree with you. The air is warm and it caresses your skin like a third lover.

There is a sturdy chaise lounge with a thick cushion on it just beside the pool. Joanna leads you to it and pushes you down on it. Without much talking, she straddles you and rubs herself up and down over your throbbing cock. She’s getting you wet with her own juices and when she positions her hips just right, you slip easily into her. She is so tight and hot and you feel her muscles gripping you like a vice.

“Mmm….” She moans, “You fill me up so good!”

You start to reply but find Angela kissing you again, her tongue darting into your mouth. One of her hands tugs at your nipple lightly and she begins to suck on your tongue. She soon changes her position and offers you her small breast to nibble on.

Joanna keeps riding you, expertly increasing speed and friction, leaning down to kiss Angela’s lips as suck a hard pink nipple. In this position, you feel Joanna’s hard clit rubbing the top of your cock. Her breathing is growing faster.

Angela changes again, now putting her knees on both sides of your head, facing Joanna. Her neatly trimmed pussy tickles your nose as you tip your face up into it. The smell is fresh and sweet, almost like her kisses tasted. She sighs as you press your tongue into her damp slit.

“I have to go,” Joanna says. “To the bathroom, I mean.” She’s stopped her pumping.

You remove your lips from Angela only long enough to say, “Do it here.”

“Alright,” she agrees, almost uncertainly. You feel her muscles quiver around your cock and suddenly there is a warm gush coming out of her, all over your groin. You feel it cover you, trickling down between your ass cheeks and all over your lower belly. The warmth is delicious. It makes you begin to pump your hips up and down wildly.

Her new experience combined with your thrusting, drives her over the edge quickly and you begin to lap at Angela’s wetness as Joanna’s orgasm squeezes you rhythmically.

“Do it,” Joanna tells Angela. You feel the taller woman’s finger reach down and begin to stroke the younger girl’s clit now. You move your tongue to penetrate her deeply, taking in all the sweet honey she is making. “Let go, Angie. He wants it.”

Between pants and moan, Angela cries, “Yes!”

Suddenly you feel her let it go – a rushing stream fueled by all the beer she’s drunk during the night. It fills your open mouth and splashes all over your face. Rivulets run into your ears and down your neck. There’s too much to swallow it all but you gulp as much of the hot golden rain as you can.

With Joanna stroking her clit, Angela begins to climax – the tightening of her muscles changing the flow of the urine showering your face. Joanna is riding you hard again and all the sensations overwhelm you and bring on your own orgasm. You cry out in pleasure, the smell and taste of Angela filling your senses.

When the spasms subside and both girls crawl off of you, the three of you cuddle up together on the lounger. Neither of them have ever done anything like that before and they are eager to do it again soon. Maybe to have you do it on them. But for now, the beer and the release of sexual tension has you worn out.

After catching your breath, you all move to the hot tub, one of them cuddled up under each of your arms. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, smelling the fresh tropical air of the island and the clean scent of Angela. It strikes you that the temperature of the water in the hot tub is almost exactly the same as that of their golden liquid. You smile and lick your lips slowly, relaxing.