I smelled the pungent wild fruit that grew in proliferation here. Lowering my window, I was intoxicated. Waiawi ‘ula ‘ula.
Parking on a slope, I trotted down an overgrown path thick with moss and vines. I followed my nose to ripe bunches of the rare, small yellow guava. I reached out a hand to pluck one off a tree and was stunned to see a guy standing between thickets of bamboo and ginger, peeing into the distance.
Oh, he was good looking. At first I thought I was seeing the ghost of some ancient Hawaiian he was so magnificent. It’s not that I am a fanciful man, but this guy looked pure blood, with skin so dark, his features so defiant, he took my breath away. Our eyes met. He was giving me the once over and I relaxed. He was flesh and blood. Ancient Hawaiians didn’t wear tank tops and board shorts. He walked right over to me. I towered over him by at least six inches and was surprised when his hand went straight to my crotch.
My cock leapt in my jeans and his palm moved slowly across the hardness he was creating. Above us, a pair of circling I’o’, island hawks cawed, extending their massive wingspan. They were on their way to getting a meal…and I was on my way to getting something even better.
The man touching me was clearly aroused. His cock jutted upward, but his focus was on me. “For me?” he whispered. I couldn’t speak. I’d avoided sex with anyone in the joint except for one guy in my last year there. I’d stayed out of trouble. My height and demeanor offered me protection. Now I was in mute need and that steady strumming across my groin had me almost ready to burst.
He had a way of keeping his tongue moving over the head into my slit that left me feeling dizzy and anxious. I was worried somebody would catch us, but I didn’t want him to stop.