The caress of The White Night

As my plane was landing in the exotic, romantic, heavenly Seychelles, my eyes gazed upon this beautiful island. I felt a rush of excitement for what is to come, could come, or has happened.

As I waltzed through their customs and was rushed to my hotel, I walked though the lobby, and there stood a gentleman, who while talking to the concierge, turned to look towards me intensely. Our eyes met, maybe it was that holiday feeling, that one gets experiences in unchartered territories, but a connect was made. I quickly glanced away to concentrate on booking in. I felt his intensity and stare, right through me. As I diligently tried to concentrate on what I was doing, I could not help but start to fantasize – as one does.

I immediately found myself drifting off to the most scrumptious room; very feminine, but one could tell, a very very gay man had contributed to the decor. There were plenty of innuendos of homosexuality throughout the furnishings. As I moved towards this four-poster bed, graced with the finest Egyptian linen, and laden in an ancient Roman method, I was transported to memories of an all-white wedding I went to in Mauritius. Finding myself thrust forward, a pair of hands grasped me. I felt something caress those curves, that – if I must say – are a delight to the touch. And immediately, the moistness of the moment, captivated me in its entirety. As I grabbed hold of the bedsheets, the thrust motion back and forth ruffled the crisp linen. As my grip tightened, I found my eyes looking upon linen thrown everywhere; in a pile, in a bundle and in a mess.

Any heated passion exchange should be preceded by a cold bath to heigtewn the senses; of course, flower petals floating on water deliver that pronounced effect. I found myself walking out of the Bath, capturing my image with a huge smile of satisfaction and devilish delight.


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