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Heat

Giglo

“C’mon guys! Let’s go for a swim!”

A sigh escapes your lips.

“No thanks, Justin – I’m absolutely buggered. I’m rather gonna just pass out where I am and catch some rays.”

“Yeah, me as well.” Grant’s voice coming from behind you. “I wanna see if I can whiz through a chapter or two of my book.”

Justin flicks back a lock of his overly long hair and sticks out his tongue at you.

“Oh well, your loss. You’re getting old, guys!” With that he spins around on the sand and races to join the rest of the group already frolicking in the waves.

Truth is, you are buggered. Call it what you want – excess nitrogen from the two dives this morning, the cloying heat of the tropics, or just the remnants of last night’s lie-dice … Your muscles feel like lead. Even breathing seems an effort. You can already feel yourself drifting off …

“They’re like bloody kids.” You can hear the smile in Grant’s voice. “I don’t know where they get the energy from.” You feel him plop down on the towel next to you, followed by the ruffling of paperback pages.

“Yeah, but watch them tonight. Two drinks and they’re worthless. It’s us more experienced individuals who know when to race and when to go for a pitstop,” you grin as you turn around, exposing your back to the sun.

He smirks.

“Quite right as usual. It’s gonna end up just you and me again talking semi-lucid crap till two in the morning.”

You smile.

“Yip. As usual.”

You let out a deep, contented sigh. Life doesn’t get better than this. Friends, sea and sun … No worries, no responsibilities, no deadlines and no one screaming in your ears.

And of course your passion: scuba diving. Nowhere else in the world can a person feel so at peace and so absolutely adrenalin-drenched at the same time. Once you hit the water, you are suddenly enveloped by the wonder of creation, the absolute majesty of nature. Down, below the waves you can fly … gliding in a kaleidoscope of brilliance, surrounded by peace and tranquility. You find yourself in another universe, alien environments and alien beings welcoming you into their fold. Almost every time you dive it takes a conscious effort to force yourself to actually ascend when you reach the limits of your air cylinder. There’s always that temptation to stay just a little bit longer …

You lie with your chin on your hands, staring at the rest of the group behaving like little children in the waves. Images from this morning’s dives flit across the movie screen of your mind … drifting … drifting … feeling the sweet lethargy that only the heat of the sun and the sound of the surf can bring.

The sun … Dammit, you forgot to put on sunscreen. And these days that can prove a big mistake. You rouse yourself from your reverie and start rummaging in your bag for the bottle.

“Looking for something?” Grant asks as he turns another page.

“Yeah, my suntan lotion. I’m frying … although … I can’t seem to find it. Shit! Now I’ll have to walk all the way back to the flat.”

“Nah, man, don’t be silly. Use some of mine.” He reaches behind him and produces the little bottle of lotion. You take it from him.

“Ah, thanks a bundle, honeybunch. You’re saving this tired body a load of effort,” you smile.

“It’s a pleasure, sweety. It’s not as if that body needs the exercise anyway … ”

He gives you a lascivious grin as his eyes wander downwards for a split second.

You return his grin.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir,” you whisper as you start to rub some of the lotion on your arms. His eyes follow your hands openly, almost entranced by what you’re doing. You giggle to yourself. There’s always been this playful flirting between you and Grant. Nothing serious … Either you or he has always been involved in some form or another, so it’s never really gone further than innuendo and naughty looks. He’s always had a good sense of humour and a very sharp wit … not to mention being tall, dark and handsome. Not a bad prospect. Not a bad prospect at all.

Deliberately you start to rub some of the liquid over your chest, taking care to focus on the area between your breasts and ensuring that you do not rush. His eyes are drawn to your ministrations like a moth to a flame. He’s powerless to resist. You can almost see the blood rushing into his face … and … is there something happening between his legs? You laugh to yourself. Men are sooo easy.

You let your hands wander down to your tummy. Again his eyes follow. Leisurely you massage the creamy liquid into the taut skin just above your bikini line. By now there is a definite stretching of the material covering his crotch. You don’t know why, but for some reason this excites you and you can feel the gathering of butterflies in your tummy.

The bottle makes a loud splurge as you now draw two long, white lines of lotion down your thighs. Grant is entranced, his mouth almost hanging open.

A real puppy dog, you grin to yourself as you start stroking your thighs up and down, your fingers flirting at the edge of his temptation.

This is just too much for him. In some obvious discomfort he turns on his stomach to hide his embarrassment and loudly clears his throat. His eyes return reluctantly to the pages in front of him and for a while you continue in silence: him reading his book and you finishing up the lotion exercise. Your gaze drifts up and down the beach and you realise how quiet it actually is. Except for the voices and laughter coming from the sea and a few outlying areas, there’s not a lot going on. It was a good idea not to pick a long weekend – this place would’ve been packed.

“Ah, man, me and my short arms … ” you groan. Grant looks up. “ I can’t reach my back. Do you mind?” You offer him the uncapped bottle.

“Sure, no problem,” he says as he gets on his knees and takes the bottle from you. “Lie on your tummy.”

You lie down with a long, contented sigh. You hear him shuffling next to you and then suddenly the cold liquid hits you between the shoulder blades. You gasp and you can hear his grin.

“Bastard – you did that on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yip,” he says happily, “you know I’ll never let an opportunity slip.”

You feel his fingers starting to slowly smear the cream over your shoulder blades and up towards your shoulders and neck. His hands are surprisingly gentle – not nearly the rough kneading you were expecting from a guy. Using slow, circular movements he teases the lotion into your skin, while with the other hand he moves your long tresses out of the way. One by one the muscles in your neck and back start to respond to his touch and succumb to the gentle pressure. You didn’t think it possible, but you’re starting to relax even more …

“God, that’s nice.” Your voice is barely audible.

“Glad you like it. You feel a bit tense – you had some stress lately?” His hands still working …

“Yeah, a bit. Had some tough deadlines to meet the last couple of months. But also I had to carry a 12-litre cylinder, remember? Keeps me down longer, but bunches up my whole back.”

Very softly kneading your neck …

“Oh yeah, I remember,” he laughs. “It looked a little peculiar. Like a hobbit with a jetpack.”

“Oh screw you,” you giggle.

“You don’t have the money,” he smirks back at you.

“Yah well, you still owe me change from last time,” you shoot back. “Ten bucks is ten bucks.”

He laughs from deep within.

“Good one! I see you’re learning the game!”

“I’m spending enough time with the master.”

His ministrations are starting to carry you off to dreamland, the gentle numbness settling on you again. Damn, his hands are amazing …

“Okay, that should do it. Your back is sorted.”

Suddenly his hands are gone and you’re dragged back to reality.

“Oh no, no, no, don’t you dare stop now!” you complain. “I was almost asleep!”

“Huh? But you just wanted sunscree …”

“Yeah, but it felt really good and I was drifting off and … and … and my back is still sooooo sore and stiff,” you smile at him over your shoulder.

A shy smile spreads across his face.

“Oh well, OK. If you liked it that much, who am I to leave a damsel in distress? You know I can’t say no to you.”

“You’d better not, or next time you don’t get paid at all.”

“OK fine – seeing that my financial wellbeing depends on it. But to do it properly, I need to work from a leveraged position …”

Before you can protest, you suddenly feel his weight settle on your lower back, his legs clamping your sides.

“Heeeyyy! Geez … did you see a saddle on my back and a bit in my mouth? I don’t have four legs you know!”

“Oh stop moaning. You always boast you’re a good ride. Now shut up and let me work.”

In mock indignation you slap his thigh and you both laugh. Then your head settles on your arms again. Behind you you hear the squirt of the suntan bottle, but no accompanying cold splash on your back this time. By the sound of things he’s considerately warming it up in his hands this time. Ha! Gentleman indeed.

Then his hands are upon you. Starting from the middle of your back, on both sides of your spine, he slides his thumbs in a straight line upward and out, moving with the grain of the muscle underneath, stretching it out. It’s almost a little bit sore, as he’s putting some weight behind his motions now, but you can feel the tension starting to seep from the taut muscles and the skin becoming warm and tingly beneath his expert movements. Just as the sensation is at the point of becoming painful, he moves to another location, firmly kneading the area between your neck and shoulders, his fingers magically rubbing the tension out onto the sand …

You groan softly as your nostrils are filled with the fragrance of coconut and salt, and before you know it your eyes fall closed of their own accord. His touch ensures that you don’t totally fall asleep, but rather remain in that blissful limbo between sleep and wakefulness, where reality takes on a surreal quality and you are only barely aware of your surroundings. You feel only his gentle hands touching you … caressing the slick nakedness of your skin. His fingers become little electrical conductors sending small charges to the pleasure centres of your brain. As if from a dream, you can feel your body starting to respond. Your breathing quickens … your skin suddenly super-sensitive … picking up even the slightest change in the wind.

After what feels like an eternity he changes position again, as does his touch. With two fingers, barely touching you, he starts to trace a trail down the sides of your body. Starting just below your armpit, it feels like two butterflies dancing down your ribcage … slowly … sliding down the slopes of your waist … barely grazing your hips … down until they meet the laces of your bikini bottom. Then, they start again … starting the journey back up … meandering over every little undulation of your body … leaving little trails of lighting wherever they’ve touched you.

As if in a dream, you feel your body starting to succumb to his touch. Gone is the lethargy, to be replaced by a building excitement. Deep inside you, you can feel something clenching. Far away, a fantasy is awakening. Your skin is breaking out in goosebumps, even though it is boiling hot … your breathing slowly picking up pace. A whispered moan escapes your lips …

After repeated sojourns up and down your sides and your back, his fingers reach their starting point again, and for a split second they pause there. Then slowly they dip, barely grazing the foothills of your breasts, before embarking on their quest again.

Did he hear the sharp intake of your breath? If so, he’s giving no sign of it. Your heart rate has suddenly accelerated and you can feel perspiration building on your brow. As his fingers reach the previous point of return he suddenly shifts his position, moving down your body until his kneeling spread-eagled over the bend in your legs. Without breaking contact, his fingers resume their journey … over the little laces … caressing the naked skin where your ass forms those dimples so adored by men across the world. You can’t help it … his touching the private area catches you by surprise and your buttocks clench as if by own will. Now his gasp is audible.

Still down he goes … slowly drawing a line of erotic fire on your trembling skin … down past the curve of your ass … down, through the indent made by the flexed muscles of your thighs … down to your knees. Breathing is now becoming a laborious effort, your heart clamouring in your ribcage. A large melting-pot of desire has flamed into existence in your stomach and lava has started to flow down your body to the fulcrum of your desire. You feel nothing else except his hands. You know of nothing else except his touch. You care about nothing else but the sensations coursing through your body.

His fingers have now digressed to the little creases behind your knees and he gently rocks his hands left to right. My God, it is so sensitive! Almost ticklish, and yet … not quite.

Then they’re gone, suddenly starting a new journey upwards, exploring a new path … up your hamstrings. Nearing your …

Oh my word … you cannot believe that the mere touch of a man can feel so intimate. Yet his fingers seem to be making love to every little goosebump, every minuscule crevice, enticing a little explosion from each. You know where his hands are heading … yet … you are powerless to attempt any cessation of his actions. On the contrary …

His hands tease the quivering muscles … frolicking up their firm contours … playing … feeling you … and then they reach the slope where your ass meets your thighs. He turns his hands around and gently drags all the fingers of his hands upward over the naked skin. Again you gasp, this time much more audibly. It’s as if the rest of your body ceases to exist except where he’s touching you. There the flame of creation flares brightly enough to start new universes. Involuntarily your hips lift a little bit from the sand … yearning towards his touch.

His questing fingers keep moving up, until they encounter the elastic of the bikini. There they linger for a pregnant moment, as if gathering courage … and then burrow in underneath … dragging the thin material with them … inward and upward, exposing more of your intimate skin. You whimper into your arms, the newly exposed flesh revelling in the touch of the wind.

Suddenly his fingers slip out and resume their upward journey, over your back … all the way up your spine … dragging simmering ecstasy with it.

He has to lean forward to reach your neck, his lower body pressing gently against your ass.

Oh my …! In the cleft between your buttocks, you can feel him. Hard. Throbbing. Searching … A jolt runs up and down your body … desire possessing every fibre of your being. Again you moan, your mouth opening in lust and you push your pelvis back against him. A breath of hot air explodes against your neck. Suddenly his fingers disappear, only to be replaced by something warmer … something wetter. The curve at the junction of your neck is now being invaded by an army of lips and tongue. Waves of pleasure crash upon the shores of your body, enveloping you in ecstasy. His presence is now all over you, all around you, surrounding you, his warmth possessing you. The boundaries between your bodies are becoming vague … lust is now the master of you.

Between your legs you can feel the lava brimming over the edge, your thighs convulsively flexing against each other to try and keep the almost painful desire at bay … It is no use. His tongue has reached your ear, his ragged breathing hot and echoing to the deepest reaches of your soul, his tongue a welcomed marauder. Without inhibition you thrust back against him, against his powerful need. He grunts and pushes back. You don’t care if he can feel your wetness … you don’t care if you’re seen … you don’t care …

“Ohmygod, please …” Your voice is ragged, as if you’ve been shouting …

Suddenly his weight dissapears. Where his fingers tracked their adventure before, his tongue now follows. Supporting himself only on his hands and feet, he slowly moves down your back, his lips and tongue leaving a searing wet trial down your spine, making you quiver in the heat.

Your breathing is now loud and uneven in your ears, your muscles jerking and releasing without your command. You feel only his tongue, nothing else. It’s like a Chinese acupuncture needle, but made only for pleasure. Your skin responds to his touch and you can feel your engorged nipples grazing the inside of your bikini top, starting another fire.

His mouth has now reached the laces where before his fingers paused. This time there is no building up of courage … his lips speed past and make contact with the sensitive skin of your ass. You exhale loudly, your breath burning your forearms. Your whole body starts writhing, forcing you into contact with his face … His mouth plays with the goosepimpled flesh … kissing … licking … gently nibbling. From the upper slopes to the downward curves he explores, leaving nothing untouched by his passion.

Almost nothing …

He moves the rest of his body back so that he can lie down, in the process forcing your legs apart to make space for him. The sudden coolness as the wind kisses the hottest part of your body makes your breath quiver in anticipation.

And then his hands are on you again, each one claiming a cheek for its own. Conquered lands. Gently kneading the now slick flesh, moving the thin strip of cloth towards the middle. You feel like you can’t breathe.

And then suddenly there’s his breath. Right on the crease between your cheeks … ragged … hot and cold at the same time … hitting you like waves hit the shore. His face must almost be touching you …

For a moment nothing happens. You’ve stopped breathing, the anticipation of what’s to come leaving you on the edge of a cliff.

And then … like a feather his tongue is upon you. Starting at the bottom, where your button has been standing at attention, to the top where the now damp cloth disappears into the crease between your cheeks, he teases and tickles you through the thin material, grazing the sides, going back full circle to where he started. Again he embarks on the circular route, barely touching you … teasing you … tasting you … drawing you into him.

His hands move again … fingers slipping under the elastic … moving it away … exposing you.

“Oh! ... oh yes …” Someone speaks with your voice, as it is unrecognisable to you yourself. Yet is utters the desire that is reaching boiling point within you.

Like an obedient soldier he descends upon you, his tongue invading your most intimate parts. Like an iron heated in a fire his tongue sears you, but not with pain, rather with a pleasure that is indescribable. Currents sweep through your body, lighting up every nerve ending on the way, spasming every muscle. Your whole body is twitching uncontrollably, each touch sparking a new outburst. Deep inside you something is gathering momentum, picking up little pieces of your being along the way. You can feel it racing to the surface and there is nothing you can do to stem its advance. Between your legs you can feel your desire pouring forth, dousing his face with your nectar.

And then suddenly his tongue touches your now swollen and naked button. Lighting goes off in your head and the world disappears around you. You sink your teeth into the flesh of your forearm to quell the cry in your throat. The taste of suntan lotion and sweat greets your tongue. You are drifting in the middle of the universe, tethered to reality only by the connection between his tongue and your clitoris. You forget to breathe, and even your soul clenches. Your hands are digging deep furrows in the sand as you force your pussy against his face, fighting for every iota of sensation that you can get.

He’s now drawing small circles around your swollen nub, his tongue, lips and nose a frenzy as if fighting one another to pleasure you the most. Your throat is raw from the hurricanes passing through your throat, although your lungs feel like they haven’t tasted oxygen for ages. You feel sweat running off your body in hot little runnels, while your stomach, buttocks and thighs all quiver in unison. Inside you the pressure is reaching tsunami proportions and you don’t know how long you can hold back …

It’s at this moment that a finger joins his tongue. The digit enters you and somehow touches a place that you did not know existed. For a split second you’re on the edge …

“Oh! … Oh … fuck!”

You explode. Every nerve-ending, all the muscles scream their ecstasy in unison. All at once you are nowhere and everywhere. It feels as if every atom of your being is touching every atom in the universe. Your fingers claw trenches in the sand while your legs clamp around his head, trapping his face against you.

And still he continues … his tongue and finger milking your pleasure, ensuring that wave upon wave of the orgasm spills through you. You bury your face in the towel and scream. Scream until your throat feels raw. And still your body twitches and writhes, as if little electric shocks are administered to your battered body.

Slowly the spasms seem to come further apart … your lungs start to fill with air again. Your muscles seem to tediously unravel themselves, almost audibly creaking from the effort having gone before. The world returns around you … suddenly you hear the waves again, the laughter, feel the sun, smell the salt … and the musk. Your heart clamours in your ears and then starts to slowly resume its normal beat. Your skin tingles, your nerve endings still extremely sensitive. Inside you, there is a satisfied contentment.

The volcano god has been appeased.

For now.

*

Justin is the first of the gang to arrive back at the camp spot on the beach.

“Ag no, geezlike guys! Don’t tell me you’ve been reading and sleeping the whole time! We’ve been gone almost an hour!”

Grant looks up from his pages, a slight smile creasing his face. “What can we say? We’re just not cut out to be the adventurers you guys are.”

Justin is quite indignant. “Ag kak, man! You guys are just LAAAZY!” He drops onto his knees and grabs the nearest towel to start drying off his dripping body. The others arrive amid a cacophony of laughter and good-natured jostling.

“Ja well, we’ll just see who fades first tonight. As usual.” Grant’s voice is taunting …

Justin’s reply is, as usual, loud and challenging. “Oh, no way Jose! Tonight is cocktail night! There’s no way you two are going to be the last two standing again! I am THE king at mixing Sex on the Beaches, so you have no chance! What-so-ever!” He laughs. “Right …?”

He glances at you.

“What the hell are YOU sniggering at?”





LitNet: 30 August 2006

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