Carnival

This is an episodic installment in the "Free Love Universe", a collection of short stories about recurring characters which are designed to be read in any order, unless otherwise numbered.

This episode, like all in the "Carnival" series, is best enjoyed in order within that subsequence.

-

DAY 2 - THURSDAY

Megan and I awoke the next morning, wrapped in sheets and sweat and each other.

"Good morning, baby," she whispered.

"Good morning," I said with a quick peck. I popped out of bed, brushed my teeth, and stood naked on the deck to enjoy the view. It was already warm, because Barbados was always warm. The palm trees encasing us swayed in the morning breeze and the slice of ocean we could see was dotted by small fishing boats near and far. The fifty yards or so of sandy beach visible to us was empty. The sun was behind us, still low enough to cast its light on the sides of objects, which made the whole scene appear as if it was huddled around the world's largest campfire.

Warm arms wrapped around my body from behind. The right arm caressed my jaw in preparation for a kiss on my other cheek and the left arm ventured down below, toward my soft dick. Both hands ran smoothly over my body as I felt the third sensation of lips on my left ear. I spun in place to face Megan. She was so beautiful with her African print headwrap and raw skin undoctored by makeup or foundation. I kissed her, savoring her full lips and electric tongue.

"We have a long time until we need to meet Kevin and Leigh. Do you want breakfast? Should I order us two lattes from room service?" I asked.

"I want you to sit in this chair," she said, directing me toward a reclining chair beside the pool. I fell into it and Megan kneeled in front of me and spread my knees slowly. She stared me straight in the eye and drooled into her hands, then began to massage my dick.

"What did I do to deserve this?" I asked between ragged breaths.

"You were fun and adventurous last night," she said, then moved her hands to my thighs and lowered her head to my tip.

The heat of her mouth and tongue swirled around me and I sighed and sank further into my chair. I placed my hands over hers, squeezed her fingers, and focused all of my attention on my wet dick. Thick spit was raining down my shaft, over my balls, through an inch or two of my ass, and onto the deck. Its parade down my body left a trail of cold, tingly pleasure.

"Oh my god baby - play with my balls," I groaned.

Megan placed my left ankle on the seat's armrest, giving her better access to everything. Her right hand began tickling and swirling my balls, then stroking my shaft, then playing with my balls again. She continued at maximum effort until the swell began to build within me only a few minutes later.

Megan loved to be surprised by my orgasm, so while my sweating and breathing gave her clues that I was close, my first blast of cum into her mouth came somewhat unannounced. She immediately transitioned into her suck-and-swallow routine, milking my shaft and slurping down my cum. When I was spent, she jiggled the last of my erection back and forth from its base like she was waving a victory flag.

"You are the absolute fucking best," I said in disbelief. "Now I need to get you."

She wagged her finger at me. "I want to let it build all day at the fete.

I want to be ravenous."

"But that's twice in a row now I haven't been able to eat your pussy," I said, actually a bit whiny.

"Oh trust - you

will

eat this pussy before the day is done," she replied, then turned and sauntered into the bathroom.

I remained in my chair, the ocean once again the most interesting thing to look at. An unknown couple walked by on the sand, no more than a hundred feet from me. If they looked inland, they would see me plainly, wearing nothing as I was. Had others walked by while Megan cast her spell? Had they seen us? I had no way to know.

Eventually I found the gumption to call the restaurant and order two lattes, two Bajan breakfast scrambles, and a bowl of fresh fruit. I put on shorts for when I eventually had to answer the door, then resumed my blank staring out into the horizon. Our breakfast arrived 10 minutes later and I tracked Megan to the vanity mirror to inform her we had food waiting for us.

"You're the best," she smiled warmly at me. "Give me ten minutes and I'll join you."

I sipped my coffee until we ate breakfast together. Though slightly cold from our unhurried pace, it was still just as delicious as the chicken and rice from the night before. After we finished, we went down to the beach for a few hours and alternated between swimming and lying in the sun and sand. Around noon, we made our way back to our unit.

We hopped in the shower together, switching between enjoying the hot water and lathering the other person up. We spent gratuitous amounts of time on each other's bodies, rubbing the sudsy body wash into each other much longer than was necessary. Megan exited first, then I eventually followed and found her perusing her clothing options for the day as I toweled off.

"I'm thinking I'll go with my white skirt and white bikini today?" she said.

"You wearing anything under it?" I asked, hopeful for a specific answer. Megan bought a Grecian-style white cotton skirt for this trip that absolutely broke my brain. It was made of the softest, flowiest material and connected over her left hip by a three-inch golden circle which the skirt tied to on either end, exposing her entire left leg. The piece was essentially one long rectangle of fabric, just long enough to wrap around 80% of her waist, tied at its two top corners to a golden circle that sat on her left hip. Its ends, dangling from the golden circle, often fell straight down between her legs, coming tantalizingly close to showing the goods. A pair of panties underneath dramatically reduced the risk of scandal, but also didn't look nearly as hot, or as

cool

. Not very subtly, I voted that when the day came, she wore nothing underneath.

"I'm leaning no - but what do you think?" she asked.

"We'll all be basically butt naked come Grand Kadooment, so I don't see why that would be a problem today," I said.

"Okay, just the skirt and bikini top. Hopefully Leigh doesn't judge me!" Megan laughed.

"Oh she'll judge you," I retorted.

"Positively."

I returned to the closet and put on my same swimming shorts from last night and a matching blue muscle shirt made out of a soft cotton blend.

Come 1:30pm, we left our unit and walked down our private walkway toward the central green. Kevin and Leigh were waiting for us by the bar, which again had no guests and one idle bartender waiting for something to do.

"Afternoon!" I said brightly as we approached our new friends. Kevin and I shook hands and hugged with our other arm while Megan and Leigh embraced fully.

Kevin was wearing tight neon-blue swim shorts and no shirt at all, while Leigh had chosen a pink bikini and matching sarong on her waist. But for their different color schemes, Leigh and Megan's outfits had very similar vibes - though it was clear Leigh actually had on her bikini bottoms, unlike Megan.

"Well we look great!" Leigh said approvingly.

"Not an eyesore in the bunch," I joked.

Megan and I had no idea where we were going, but Kevin and Leigh knew the way, so we followed their lead. The port was a twenty minute walk down the main road, plus a quick detour down two side streets to get back to the sea. We saw the large green ship and a growing mass of partiers lining up outside. The line moved fast and before long we were showing our QR codes, being handed a rum punch, and were invited to board.

"I should have guessed that the afternoon start time would bring an older crowd," Kevin said. It wasn't that the crowd was super old - this was still a six hour party boat excursion, after all. But instead of an endless sea of early-20s kids, most aboard were in their late twenties through late thirties. As I scanned the group, I thought Megan and I may have been among the youngest, at 24 and 25. Still, eye candy was everywhere. With few exceptions, the boat was full of fit and attractive people. They also seemed to be carrying themselves in a more dignified way than early-20-somethings.

"How does it feel being the only white person?" Leigh asked me.

"Honestly, not like much. Everyone on Barbados has been so nice - I haven't felt weird at all. I wish the States was this welcoming to everyone," I answered. Leigh and Kevin nodded approvingly.

The DJs were playing a mix of soca music - the local Bajan vibe - and more international hits. Whether you'd heard a song before or not hardly mattered because the beat and energy were always high. By 2:30/14:30, the last guests were on board and the captain fired up the engines. We scooted away from shore, slowly at first, then before you knew it, the coast was distant.

Small bites were available on all three decks, but the most activity by far was on dance floors and right in front of each bar. Alcohol was included, so the bartenders were really slinging drinks without the bookkeeping of payments or tabs.

The four of us were standing near the ship's stern on the top deck, taking in the view, when we collectively noticed our rum punches were running low. I took everyone's order, then walked off to a bar to fetch four drinks.

I let my eyes wander and take in the other partiers while I waited. There were all manner of bodies on the boat. Some people were bean pole thin, others were big and athletic, and yet others had some extra pounds. But to a person, the uninhibited joy and celebration was electric. I couldn't find an ounce of self-judgement anywhere, which made me smile.

Finally it was my turn and a bartender with a partially-shaved head beside shoulder-length dreadlocks and a cute, gemstone-lined septum piercing asked me what I wanted. I caught her staring me down while she mixed our drinks, and while I didn't want to be self-aggrandizing, I thought her gaze looked decidedly...

thirsty

. I stared right back at her, making solid eye contact and smiling softly. She was wearing green hiking pants and a white, ruffled tank top. They hugged her shapely form tightly, including telegraphing that she was wearing no bra to cover her mid-sized breasts. The drinks lined up in front of me one at a time, two piña coladas and two margaritas, before she eventually indicated I was all set. She handed me an extra bar napkin, on which she'd written

"I'm Bethany - call me"

with her phone number. I looked up and saw that she was smiling ear to ear at me, which I returned in kind before awkwardly wrapping my fingers around the four glasses and heading away.

I found my crew dancing near the edge of the mob on the top deck, a blend of skyward gazes and movements to the music. I distributed the drinks, then said, "So, I think I just got hit on by the bartender?" and showed them the napkin as evidence.

"Oh my god,

Liaaammmm!!"

Megan wailed excitedly. Nothing made her more proud than when other women wanted her man.

"It's that smile," Leigh said as she sipped her drink. "Irresistible."

"Maybe," I began. "Or - and hear me out - did I just get

fetishized?"

Megan, Leigh, and Kevin exploded in laughter.

"You're so handsome

for a white man!"

Megan wailed, riffing off the line she'd heard from clueless men her whole life.

"I'm not usually into

white men,

but you're actually handsome!" Leigh said, just as loudly. The three of them were consumed in side-splitting laughter.

"So that's a yes, we think," I said, sipping my margarita through a smirk. Black people, especially black women, always heard dumb phrases like that from white people who saw them as a sexual box to check. As the only white man on the boat, what were the odds she'd given me her number purely because I was the best looking?

"So wait, who is this bartender? Is she at least hot?" Leigh asked after they started to collect themselves.

"She's the one with the shaved head and dreadlocks," I said, pointing. The description sounded like an oxymoron, but she'd shaved the right third of her head and left the remaining area for dreadlocks.

"Oh she's cute!" Megan exclaimed.

"Yeah she's hot," Kevin agreed. He raised his margarita toward mine and we clinked glasses. "She has a sort of grungy, Bob Marley vibe going on."

"Are you gonna call her?" Leigh asked, her eyes darting between Megan and me.

"Jesus Christ, Leigh,"

Kevin sighed into his drink.

"I mean, if we all want to invite someone else to something we're doing," I said eventually.

"Atta boy," Megan smirked and clinked her piña colada into my glass, and we all took a drink.

"Yours are better," I said to Kevin in reference to the margaritas we were sipping.

"They're using a mix," he explained. "Nothing compares to the raw ingredients."

We danced on and off for hours, well past sunset and its forty minutes of extravagant oranges, pinks, and purples. The trays of food which lined portions of the boat's sides helped soak up the alcohol and steadied us as the day progressed. Mostly we danced with our respective partners, but Megan and Leigh put on a show for Kevin and me several times. Much to my disappointment, they had yet to renew their kisses from last night.

We rotated through drinks duty until it was back to my turn. Everyone laughed at my having to order from the same bartender again, but as I waited in line I noticed she was no longer there. I spotted her sitting off to the side, relaxing on her break. She waved me over and I walked up with my four rocks glasses full of various elixirs.

"I just realized, you know my name, but I don't know yours. It's imbalanced," she said, tilting her hand back and forth like a swinging scale. "And the universe rejects imbalance."

"I'm Liam," I said, extending my hand to shake hers.

"Who are you here with, Liam?" she asked, shaking my hand with a firm grip.

"My girlfriend and two friends we met yesterday. I showed them your note. Consensus was, you're hot and I did well. My girlfriend was proud."

"I got friends, too. We can all hang out. Gimmie a call if you're looking for locals to party with."

"I think we will," I said.

"You here for Crop Over?" she asked, and I nodded. "You jumping or just watching?"

"Jumping," I answered. "With Zulu."

"Okay, so you're serious! Yeah, gimmie a call."

I winked at her, scooped my four drinks off the table, and returned.

"Sooooo, how'd it go?" Leigh asked as I distributed this next round. "We saw you talking to her."

"She wants to party with all of us. Says she has friends, too, which - of course she does," I said.

"You better text her!"

Kevin said with feigned urgency.

"Here, I'll get it started now," I said, and got out my phone. I entered her number and texted her "Marco". A second later, my phone lit up and read, "Polo".

"She passed the test!" I exclaimed, showing everyone my phone.

"Yeah, we're partying with her," Kevin said.

We got back to dancing, but now the hour and our buzzes cranked up the intensity. We were grinding on each other hard, swirling in and around the center of the dance mob. We mixed with other friend groups occasionally and each time everyone just danced with whoever was in front of them. I found myself enjoying god-tier twerking from two different women I'd never seen before, both seemingly hellbent on making me cum in my shorts. Their swirling butt cheeks pressing into my dick felt so good that I might just have, were it not for my three orgasms in the last 16 hours. Megan didn't hesitate a second before giving other men the same treatment. I watched as she rotated her ass round and around one man's absolute anaconda of a dick. I knew she must be incredibly turned on based on how she was shoving herself into him with such force. Looking back down at the woman in front of me, I appreciated her tight 80s-style high-waisted bikini bottom and traced my fingers across her smooth ass. She looked back at me and bit her lip while her hands ran down her body, tugging at her bikini top, almost exposing her breasts. That nearly made me cum right on the spot, but I held it in.

Around 7pm, on our sixth or seventh round of cocktails, the chaotic shuffle finally put Leigh in front of me. I had been dying to touch her since I first saw her and now I had my chance. She was tall, probably 5'10", and looked me right in the eye as we linked up. My heart thundered as we locked gazes. She grabbed the bottom of my muscle shirt and started to lift. I raised my arms to assist, then she tucked it in my shorts for safekeeping.

"There, much better," she whispered into my ear, so close I felt her lips. All the extra blood available from my accelerated pulse went straight to my erection. She danced like a charmed cobra, her body swaying before me, so close I felt the fabric of her bikini against my abs. She rose and fell in front of me, her tongue probing my body as she went. Once, while at her lowest and with her face in front of my waist, she planted an enormous kiss on the outline of my rock hard dick in my swim shorts. If it was possible to fit any more blood in there, my body did it.

I returned the favor by groping her gratuitously. Her body was different from Megan's. It was thinner and longer, the classic physique of a dancer. She was toned everywhere, if not as much so as Megan. Still, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin up and down her back, ribs, and thighs was intoxicating. She reveled in my touch, visibly melting at the very light pressure of my gliding fingertips, so gentle as to tease of firmer touches later.

Behind her, I saw Megan dancing with Kevin. I was reminded of her dancing with Tara during the Halloween after-party. She was alone in her own world, appreciating his iron muscles, enjoying the feeling of his surging bulge behind her ass as she twerked on him. When she bent forward like this, the front flap of her dangerous white skirt hung straight down from the golden clasp, exposing wide swathes of her bare legs. You couldn't quite see her coochie - that would still require getting down on the floor and looking up at her like a creep - but you could see

oh so close to it

.

Then, unexpectedly, Kevin grabbed the other end of her skirt's fabric - the side that went behind her waist and looped around - and simply pulled it around and off her. Now her entire skirt was hanging forward from her tummy in a giant white ruffle, leaving her bare ass and legs completely wide open. She was essentially naked except for her bikini top, but continued to grind into him, the wetness of her pussy darkening his shorts over his dick. I stared at her intently, my mouth watering at the sight of her toned legs and the bare mounds of her pussy, all on full display for anyone who turned their head. Between her drunkenness and the ravenous state she'd predicted earlier, she looked utterly carefree. Most around us were so consumed by their own debauchery that they didn't even notice, but I did spot a few long glances.

Leigh sensed that something was holding my attention, turned around, and saw Kevin and Megan. Her eyes went wide and her hands clasped together in front of her breasts. I studied her face - was she excited? Jealous? It was hard to tell. She kept watching, standing perfectly still, until Megan stood upright and situated her skirt back in its intended arrangement. As Megan and Kevin began dancing face to face, Leigh turned back to me and said, "That was so hot!" I guess I had my answer.

Like all before it, that dancing arrangement did not last forever and before long Leigh and I were separated, as were Kevin and Megan. I sought out Megan intentionally to make sure I was her next dance partner, and when we linked up, she leaned right into my ear and said, "I'm DYING to get that dick tonight! I wish you could feel how wet I am!"