Turn Me On: The Story Of Rico
As some of you may know, apart from this blog, I write other stuff, and that includes erotic fiction. I’ve had short stories published over the years (a couple in print, lots on the internet) but as of late, I haven’t felt motivated to write about sex.
And then I went to Jamaica…with my family…which makes this sort of awkward…but hey, I’m a woman…I have fantasies…so sue me.
There was this guy named Rico who worked at the resort – he had a few of us girls drooling. He kind of got me going again – writing again, I mean. And no, what happens in this story didn’t happen in real life. I wish [wink, wink]. And yes, I am kicking myself for not getting a picture of him. But then, what was I going to say, “Hey, can I take your picture? When I get home, I’m going to write a sexy story about you, and I need it for my blog.” I guess I could’ve, but I didn’t.
Also, although this is erotica – which means sex IS the main theme – I’ve tamed it down a bit for my readers here. I’m not trying to scare anyone away. Still, consider yourself warned.
And if you are my mother or my father or my brother or any of my children, you can stop reading right now.
Note: the video at the end was the inspiration for the title. It popped into my head just as I’d finished editing.
It was almost dark. In the distance, the palm trees were a stand of tall, lonely shadows clinging idly to the shore. The water was steel blue like shark skin, its smooth surface interrupted by a hint of ripples born out at sea. I was alone on the beach, the voices of the people up by the bar echoing eerily into the night.
Even though the sun had gone down, the air was still warm. It was Jamaica, after all. It’s never cold there – only cool. Sometimes you need a sweater, but that’s mostly to protect against the mosquitoes. They can be relentless sometimes. Thankfully, there weren’t any that night. They must’ve known it was a special occasion, and they were staying away just for me.
I was waiting for Rico – the guy whose job it was to take people out on snorkeling expeditions for the resort. We’d been eyeing each other all week – bantering silently back and forth. On the second to last day, we’d even passed each other along the path near the water sports’ hut and said a shy but very poignant hello. There was definitely a connection.
You know when another person likes you. There’s some kind of unspoken communication that goes on between people – the turn of a head, a lingering look, an openness of posture and comportment. And Rico had that – it was all there in his body language. There was no doubt in my mind that he was interested. Anyway, I was leaving the next morning. If anything was going to happen, it had to be that night.
Watching as other the workers left for the evening, I waited for him – impatiently, excitedly. One by one, the men and women packed up their gear and disappeared. Was he ever going to come? Or was this the end?
Just as I was about to head back to my room heartbroken, I saw someone moving slowly through the darkness. Taking a deep breath, I held my place. It was him, and I needed to make my move – or at least try. I knew that if I didn’t, I’d it regret for the rest of my life.
He was beautiful in his red shorts and t-shirt – his body muscular and well defined. His chestnut brown skin glowed, and his eyes sparkled. For a moment, I thought he was going to keep walking and leave me there alone, but then he spoke, “Hi.” He paused.
“Hi,” I answered back. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Aren’t you leaving soon?” He shifted his bag to one side and slid his hands in his pockets. “To go home?” So, he had been paying attention.
“Yes,” I replied. What was next? I had to think of something.
Luckily, he knew to keep the conversation going. I was useless. “Did you have a good time?” he asked.
“Yes.” Of course, there was one thing that could’ve made it better, but I wasn’t about to come right out and say it. I was being bold, but not that bold.
“You’d like to stay longer though? You like it here?”
“Yes, you’re beautiful…it’s beautiful…the island…Jamaica, I mean…” I stammered.
Too late – he’d heard my mistake. “I see.” He smiled. “Would you like to see more?” He knew. Besides, we had no time for games.
“Yes.” Was I crazy? What the hell was I thinking? This man was a stranger. But that’s just the point – I wasn’t thinking. Lust had taken over, and I would’ve done anything.
“Come on then.” Holding out his hand, he led me up the walkway, past the bar and the restaurants, and the people laughing and drinking and having a good time. As we strolled, all I could think about was the warmth of his fingers, and how much I wanted him to explore my body with them. Finally, we made it through the front gate to arrive at his car. “Get in.” He smiled.
It was easy – dangerously easy – to accept his invitation.
For fifteen minutes, we drove along the winding Jamaican roads, cars honking fiercely at every turn to announce their presence. The air was muggy, and I knew that my hair was already a frizzy mess. It didn’t matter though. I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to do. I was free – to be myself, to welcome this seduction, and to be with this sexy man in a land so far from home.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. I simply watched as he shifted gears, his eyes glued to the road. He seemed so transfixed, so intent on getting us safely to a place where we could be together. At one point though – at a stoplight – he glanced over to stare at my legs. When he let out a heavy sigh, I knew then that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. The notion was intoxicating.
At last, we pulled into a laneway of a place I assumed was his house. Beyond excited, I could barely stop from shaking. I’d never done anything that impulsive before, and I didn’t know how to act. Besides, with no street lamps or lights anywhere, it was so dark that there was nothing I could do but wait for him to take the lead.
“We’re here,” he whispered. His accent, the deepness of his voice – along with the crickets chirping in the background – was like music to my ears. Opening the car door, he stepped out, the metal creaking as if to say that there would be no turning back. Grabbing his bag out of the trunk, he walked around to get me.
“Come on.” Taking my hand again, he led me up a stone path. We glided. At least, I did.
I couldn’t see much, but I could tell that the place was small and rustic. Only a few steps, and we were inside. Barely through the doorway, he set his things on the floor and pulled me toward him, the strength of his hands in stark contrast to the sweetness of his breath and the warmth of his skin. He smelled like the sun, or whatever I imagined the sun would smell like – heavenly and hot as hell.
Within seconds, he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back. We were kissing each other, and the whole thing was bold yet gentle, like I could feel the intensity of his ardor rising, but at the same time, what he did was never overpowering, not physically anyway. Emotionally, it was intense – he’d effectively turned me into mush – but I gladly, wantonly took what he had to give, allowing him to explore my mouth with his devilish tongue, and search under the folds of my dress with his eager hands.
Bending down slightly, he then lifted me up and pressed me against the wall. Intuitively, I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pushed his groin into mine, so insistent and needy. I just wanted to rip his clothes off in that moment, but it wasn’t going to happen. Logistically, the positioning was too difficult. The best I could do was hold on as he rocked into me, his kisses getting more and more insistent by the second. The temperature had risen significantly as well, and I wasn’t even sure I was breathing anymore.
Before I knew it, we were on the floor writhing around. At first he was on top of me, lifting my clothes, and unclasping and yanking at my undergarments. Then I was on top of him, ripping at his t-shirt and undoing his fly.
Whatever parts needed to be exposed were, just enough for us to join our bodies. Somewhere in there, I made him put on protection. I’d had some in my bag all week, just in case. Getting ready was a rush though. It seemed like there was no time – not enough time in the world, not enough time ever. What we had was urgent, visceral, and completely electrifying.
As he sucked at my neck and breasts, I remember opening for him, taking him inside more urgently than I’d ever done with any man. It was a biological need, and I couldn’t get enough.
The insanity continued for only a few minutes, until Rico flipped me over, clapped his hands against my bottom, and drove into my chamber, stuttering out his seed to the very depths of my core.
It was in that fleeting instant that the smell of the ocean – whether it was real or imagined – filled my nasal passages and made the experience all the more exotic. I could hear the waves somewhere crashing against the shore.
When we both could breathe again, he asked, “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure,” I laughed. It felt so good to have his body next to mine.
The rest of the night, we spent eating, talking, and making love. I made my flight the next morning, but just barely. I was the last person on the plane. As I walked down the aisle, I wondered if the people could see the satisfaction on my face. I wondered if they could they tell where I’d been and what I’d been doing.
Sitting beside an older woman, I gazed out the window the entire trip home. I thought wistfully of my time with Rico, and there was no doubt in my mind – I’d be back.