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Day 1:

The afternoon sun streamed across my face. I opened my eyes, looking around my surroundings. The windows in my villa were wide open and a cool ocean breeze blew through the bedroom. I smiled. This place was a paradise.

I landed in Curacao the night before. If you’ve never heard of it, you’re not alone since I hadn’t heard of it either until about three weeks before arriving. It’s a tiny island off Venezuela in the Caribbean with a small but thriving tourist industry. My folks had asked if I would be interested in using their friends’ timeshare down here for next to nothing since they couldn’t go during their designated week. Initially, I wasn’t interested. But, since I hadn’t taken any time off since my divorce and my boss was pressuring me to use up some time, I had a hard time passing it up. To my surprise, I was loving it so far.

I sat up and stretched before heading into the bathroom. I had spent the morning and early afternoon in Willemstad, the capital city of the island. Now, back at the resort, I was going to take it easy at the private pool at my villa before heading over to the resort’s restaurant and bar.

I stood in the mirror, taking a look at myself with my glasses off. At 32, I thought I still looked reasonably good. I had spent some time dieting and working out recently, and my body had some mild definition to it. I combed my fingers through my short blonde hair and across the light stubble across my square face. I needed some color though for my pale skin, and what could be better than some reading outside in the sun?

I tossed on some swim trunks, put some sunscreen on and grabbed the Tom Clancy novel I had picked up at the airport and a bottle of water. I walked over to the glass sliding door, gently opening it and stepping out.

“Oh, ai, lo siento!” a deep voice called out.

I quickly turned in the direction of the voice. A very short, wrought iron fence divided my villa from the neighboring one. Over at that pool, a man was very quickly pulling up a pair of tight black Speedos to cover his ass.

Once covered, he turned toward me, speaking quickly in Spanish.

“Oh, I…no problem,” I said, holding my hands up, “It’s ok.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he responded, “I didn’t think anybody was over there.” He gave a small laugh.

The previously naked now partially clothed man also had on a pair of sunglasses but his skin was a rich honey color with a light patch of dark hair covering his body. While he wasn’t toned, he had a a giant frame and was clearly strong. A dark, trimmed beard covered his face with two thick eyebrows hanging above his sunglasses and full head of black, long hair stylishly cut into a pompadour.

“Not a problem,” I said, “I didn’t think so either.” I gave a small awkward laugh.

“Do you…uh, mind if I tan?” he asked.

“Oh no, man,” I replied, “Mind if I read out here?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. He slowly climbed back on the resort chair, stretching his long, thick limbs out in the sun.

I eased into the chair on my side, picking up where I left off in my book. Only a few moments in, I felt myself beginning to sweat under the hot Caribbean sun. I shifted and took a sip of water. To my right, I heard the mystery man adjusting.

I glanced over and he was placing his chair down and lay on it face down to tan his back. When he laid down, he faced me. His ass stood out like a mountain from the rest of his body.

I went back to my book, eagerly reading toward the end. The light breeze tossed the palm leaves around us and they rustled gently in the wind. I kept sweating, and after fifteen minutes or so, I decided to put my book down and tan my back to avoid burning my skin.

I adjusted the chair and got back on, facing away from the mystery man.

“Are you on vacation?” he asked after a minute or two.

I turned my head to face him.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I am too,” he replied. He had a smooth Spanish accent that I just noticed as he spoke. “Are you by yourself?”

I hesitated. I didn’t know much about the island and didn’t really want to reveal to much, but figuring this guy was also on vacation, I decided to be truthful.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yes,” he responded. “I decided to take five days off. This is my first day.”

I laughed internally. His English was so formal. It took a moment to get used to it.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Colombia. I live in Bogota,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“The US. I live in Atlanta.” l said. It was a half-truth since I was from Denver, but I didn’t want to share too much information with anybody.

“My name is Rodrigo but people call me Rigo,” he replied.

“My name is Jacob but people call me Jake,” I responded, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hake?” he asked, trying to pronounce me name through his accent.

“That’s good enough,” I said.

We chatted like that for a few minutes as we tanned. Rigo told me about how he was a construction manager between two projects so he just wanted to afyon escort get town for a few days. I said I was an accountant but just needed some time off. He was easy to talk to – kind of like catching up with an old friend.

“Do you have plans tonight?” he asked after a few minutes.

“No,” I said.

“Well, it’d be nice to have a…..uh, how do you say…buddy?” he said. “You know, while we are here?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I said. I figured why not? He seemed like a fun guy, and it’d be nice to have someone else to explore the island with while I was here.

“Let’s go get some clothing and find a place to go. Maybe meet some chicas?” he gave me a sly smile.

“Sure,” I said.

“Meet at 6?” he asked. I checked my watch and it was already 5.

“Yeah, I will meet you out front.”

We both got up from our chairs and went into our individual villas. I took a quick shower just to wash off the sunscreen and changed into a pair of shorts and a short sleeve button up. The more I thought about it, the more I was relieved to have an excuse to visit some places I might not otherwise go alone on the island.

At 6 prompt, I walked out in front of the villas. He emerged a second later. He was bigger than I imagined. He was at least 6’2″ and a tight t-shirt and jeans did little to conceal his big frame. His hair and beard were neat, trimmed and styled. Without his sunglasses, I could see his piercing dark brown eyes.

“I called for a cab,” he said, looking at his own watch. “He will be here in a minute or two.”

“Where do you want to go?” I asked.

“Have you ever had Colombian food? There is a Colombian place in town if you want to try it,” he offered.

“Why not?” I asked.

The cab took us into town, dropping us off in front of a tiny restaurant somewhere outside of the downtown.

Rigo hopped out of the cab, paying the driver. We walked through the small front door and were greeted by a hostess in Spanish. Rigo and she exchanged a few sentences and moments later, we were ushered to a booth in the back of the restaurant.

We sat across from each other on the hard, wooden seats. The hostess handed us two menus before returning to the front.

“The lady said that she is the only one here now that speaks any English tonight, so I can order,” he said.

I poured over it, pulling the few Spanish words I know. However, except for empanada and pollo, I had no idea what anything was.

“Man, my Spanish is so bad,” I sighed, “I can’t even read this.”

“What do you like – chicken, pork, beef?” Rigo asked.

“I mean, I’ll try anything,” I said, “But I like beef.”

“Ok, do you like eggs?”

“I love them,” I said.

“Ok.”

The waitress came over with two water glasses. Her tight clothes exposed her hips, and her light brown hair flowed over her shoulders and down onto her chest. Rigo’s eyes immediately wandered to her very ample tits before shooting up to meet her gaze. They jumped into a lengthy exchange in Spanish though I didn’t need to speak Spanish to know he was flirting and she was just humoring him.

“Kind of surprising,” I thought, “He’s a good looking guy.”

When they wrapped up, the waitress took the two menus and walked to the front, handing them back to the hostess and disappearing into the kitchen.

“Ai,” Rigo said, extending his hands out in front of them and cupping them, lifting them up and bouncing them. He was obviously a boob man.

I laughed. “I don’t think she liked you that much.”

“No, she is just…” he looked up, like he was searching for a word, “Acting tough?”

“Playing hard to get,” I said.

“Si!” he pointed at me and grinned.

We chatted some more about where we were from, our backgrounds. Like me, Rigo grew up playing soccor, though they were way more serious about it in Colombia. He even showed me a tiny scar on his arm from when he was playing as a kid in some important game where he feel and had a nasty gash. He had learned English at his university and loved having somebody to talk to in it. Conversation was easy with him, and we had a lot in common since we did a lot of the same things when we were young.

The food came as we talked. The waitress had three dishes, dropping them in front of us.

“Bistec a Caballo,” she said tossing down what looked piece of steak topped with a fried egg and tomatoes.

“Cabro Santandereano.” This one appeared to be like ribs but cooked very dark with no sauce.

“Sanchoco de Pescado con Coco,” she said, tossing down a white soup-like dish topped with green herbs with two spoons.

She said something briefly to Rigo, and he replied, “Nada.” She left us.

“Ok,” he said, pushing the Bistec to me. “That’s for you.”

“Y this is for me,” he said pulling the ribs toward him.

“What is that?” I asked, trying to determine what kind of meat was on the ribs.

“Uh…it’s…baaahh!” he said, imitating a goat.

“Goat?” I asked, my eyebrow raising.

“Si!” he grinned wide. I knew goat was ağrı escort popular in other countries, but I had no desire to try it.

“What is this?” I pointed to my plate.

“Beef,” he said, “With, uh, egg and…tomatoes?”

I took a quick taste and the sweet taste of roasted tomatoes jumped out right away.

“Yup. Tomatoes.”

We chatted some more as we ate. Rigo was a genuinely charming guy, and it surprised me how similar his life sounded to mine in some ways.

“So, no woman?” he asked me between bites.

“No. I was married but we…I don’t know. It just didn’t work,” I explained.

He nodded. “My last uh, girlfriend, and I aren’t together anymore. She was…boring?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I guess that was the problem with mine too.”

Though I had thought Rigo was younger than me, he was actually 34. He worked mostly on home building projects, which he liked.

“Lots of money in certain parts of Bogota. You get to build some neat stuff. Just don’t ever ask about where the money comes from,” he explained.

As I finished my dish, I looked at the soup.

“Ok, now what’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Sanchocho,” he explained, “Fish stew in coconut juice.” He stirred the thick white stew, and as I watched, tiny pieces of fish appeared.

He spooned some up and took a taste.

“It’s pretty good,” he said, putting his spoon down and returning to his goat. “You should try it.”

I wasn’t a big fan of fish, but I didn’t want to be rude either. I took the clean spoon next to me, stirred it as he had and brought it up to my lips. I took a quick taste, and the taste of coconut milk almost instantly gave way to the fishy taste. I hated it.

I must have made a face, because Rigo said right away, “No good?”

“I…don’t like fish that much,” I said, “But the coconut is good.”

He smirked, “Liar. You built a face.”

He pushed his finished plate to the side and brought the soup over, devouring it hungrily. A tiny few drops of coconut milk hung in his beard as he finished, but he quickly whipped them away with his napkin.

“The steak was very good,” I said.

He nodded, “Yes, I like everything here when I come.”

We paid and walked back onto the street. The sun was already beginning to set and the streetlights were lighting up around us.

“Hake, is there an American place around here?” he asked as we walked around a little shopping area.

“Maybe,” I said, “It’s my first time here. Why?”

“I always wanted to try….beer root?” he asked.

“Root beer?” I laughed.

“Yeah! You always see it in American movies.” he said, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Sure, I think the place I had lunch at has it,” I said. I took out my phone and got our location, which was only a few blocks from the place. We walked in the dim light of the setting sun, chatting some more.

We arrived at the place maybe fifteen minutes later, and I bought two cold root beer bottles from the hostess. We walked back on the street and opened them on a small stone wall.

“Cheers,” I said, raising my bottle on his.

“Oh, salud!” he said, recognizing the gesture. Our bottle necks clinked.

I took a long sip of the soda, enjoying the familiar taste.

“Oh, ugh!” Rigo shouted, pulling it quickly away from my mouth. “It’s medicine!”

I laughed, “Well, I like it.”

“Here!” he said, handing his back to me. He coughed a little bit, being a giant baby about it. I eagerly finished mine and started working on his.

Rigo explained he had flown in early that morning and was getting tired, so we took a cab back to the villas a few minutes later. As we pulled into the resort, Rigo asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Oh, I was thinking about snorkeling,” I said.

“You want to come?” he asked.

“Yeah, man. What time?”

“I was getting to get up and swim in the pool at like 8 so maybe 10?”

“Ok,” I said as the cab pulled up in front of the villas.

“Good night,” I said, waving as I walked toward my door.

“Buenos noches, Hake,” he said, walking in the opposite direction to his door.

I finished my book over the next hour or so and watched a movie the resort had while having a few beers. Around 11, after getting ready for bed, I slipped into bed. The warm Caribbean air still filled the room, and I tossed and turned for a few minutes trying to get comfortable.

I ended up on my back, starring at the ceiling fan. My hand kind of naturally slid into my boxers, and I closed my eyes. My mind went right to the hot waitress from the restaurant. She stood next to the table we were at, slowly sliding off her tight jeans and top for me. I slowly unhooked her bra and her perky tits jumped out in front of me. I eagerly cupped them, squeezing them, before bringing my mouth down and sucking her huge nipples.

“Care to share?” a smooth Spanish accent came from behind me. Rigo walked up, dressed only his Speedo.

“Fuck yeah, man,” I said, pulling her panties down, revealing her thick, Colombian aksaray escort bush. We pulled the table in our booth out and she laid down, spreading her legs wide for me. Her head hung over the edge of the table, revealing her wide mouth for Rigo.

I took my firm cock and slid it into her pussy, enjoying the hot, wet feeling. Rigo dropped his Speedos, his cock disappearing in her mouth before you could even see it. We both moaned in pleasure spit roasting this slut. Her tits bounced with our thrusts, and I eagerly pushed her legs farther apart as I thrust deeper in her. Rigo’s whole body slammed into her mouth as she moaned in pleasure.

I shot my load over my chest and lay in my post-cum haze, smiling. I drifted off to sleep after that.

Day 2:

The morning sun woke me up, and I looked at my phone. It was 8:15. I groaned a little bit, hoping I could sleep some more. After rolling around for a few minutes, I got up and climbed in the shower. When I was done, I tossed one some fresh clothes and looked out my window to see Rigo, back in his Speedo, standing on his tiptoes and looking over the fence at the edge of the villas. I crouched down and poked my head out the window.

“Rigo, what are you doing?”

He flipped around, looking up at me. He made a frantic motion for me to come down there, and I walked down the stairs and stepped over the tiny fence to his side.

As I approached, Rigo was back on his tip-toes, looking over the fence.

“Come here,” he whispered, “Look down there.”

I stood next to him, looking over the fence. Down the hill from us was a giant, Spanish-style mansion. The mansion was mostly on the left, but next to it was a massive swimming pool – it could even have been Olympic-sized. It must have been private because the fencing extended as far as I could see all around the property. A few guys were out there, cleaning it.

“I want to swim in THAT,” Rigo said greedily.

“Too bad it’s fenced in,” I replied.

“Not all the way,” Rigo said. He tapped my shoulder and pointed to a tiny opening where the fence between his villa and the one downhill were open.

“We could go through there,” he commented. He pointed at the opening and then motioned to indicate a path down to the pool.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, turning around, “I’m going to call the snorkeling place and make a reservation for us.” Rigo could trespass on his own if he wanted to go in so bad.

I walked back in and called the resort front desk to make the reservations. With the only availaility being at 2 p.m., I agreed and walked back to see Rigo had decided to get in the pool.

“2 p.m.” I told him.

“For what?” he asked.

“Snorkeling,” I replied, climbing back over the fence to his villa patio.

“Oh…” he said, sounding a little quieter than normal.

We got back down to our bathing suits and played cards on the patio before getting lunch at the tiny stand down by the docks at the resort.

At 1:30, we arrived at the snorkeling place and got a short demonstration on snorkeling safety. Rigo was dead quiet the entire time, even as we walked out to the resort’s boat.

“Are you ok?” I asked him as we sat down on the deck seating waiting for the boat to launch.

“Yeah, I am OK,” he said, but he made no eye contact.

The boat pulled off the dock, and within no time, we were surrounded by an endless blue horizon. Curacao has several reefs, but the resort boat went to one of the farthest out. In roughly half an hour, we were floating above a reef only eight yards down. Even out of the water, you could see multiple fish swimming alongside the boat, almost curious about us.

The tour guides threw the ship’s ladders over the side and people started jumping in.

I stood up to head in when I noticed Rigo was still sitting.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Go. I am not feeling well,” he said, quietly.

“What? Seasick?”

“No, just go ahead,” he waved his hand at me.

“I’ll get somebody to get something for you,” I said.

“No!” he protested.

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” I said. I felt my frustration building up. He’d been quiet for so long now and all the sudden he was going to be sick. I wasn’t not buying it.

He looked up at me, looked around and whispered something.

“What?” I said, coming back to sit next to him.

“…I…I’m afraid of…sharks,” he said very quietly.

“Sharks?” I laughed, kind of amused that big, strong Rigo was scared of something so small. They even said during the safety training that the animals in these reefs were totally safe as long as you didn’t both them, but clearly, he didn’t listen.

“Shut up!” he growled through his teeth.

“Rigo, there’s no sharks. At least not big ones,” I said, trying to reason with him.

“I know, but…what if there is?” he asked quietly. He had sunk into his seat, barely even willing to make eye contact with me.

“I will prove it. I will get in the water first. If a big, mean shark eats me, you were right and you don’t have to get in the water,” I said. I had a kid brother, and I knew how this goes. I’d have to tease him into doing it or he’d drag his feet and find an excuse to stay on the boat.

“I do not want to go in,” he said sternly.

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