by DJ Wilson
Catching my breath, first one minute, then two, I eased on top of her, where she warmly welcomed me inside. Easing Candi’s legs together, I glided effortlessly to the tempo of my making. First slow, then fast, then somewhere in between. I thrust in and out of her wet, warm vice that had no intention of letting me go. With beads of sweat dripping from my forehead, I came hard, pushing deeply inside her as far as her body would allow. Totally spent, I moved to her side and snuggled her head to my chest. In moments, we fell fast asleep, our bodies and hearts finally reconnected.
Chapter 67
Major, being the earliest riser in the group, woke us up at twenty after five on this fine Candi Day +1. After nuzzling my arm and getting no response, he promptly walked around the bed and nuzzled Candi. She jumped — cold, wet nose to warm cheek works every time.
Feeling something or someone next to me, I opened my eyes to a dog’s nose, planted eye level on the bed next to my cheek. “Major — yuck!”
“I think he wants to go out, baby.”
Pulling the pillow over my head, I groaned, “It’s all you, D. He’s your dog.”
“Yep and thanks to you ... a homeless dog at that.”
That hurts, even if it’s true. “That’s not fair!”
“Who said life’s fair? Sometimes, it down right sucks. The way I see it, if it wasn’t for you baby doll, he’d be at home right now letting his own self out, not waiting for an escort from a fifth floor, ocean front, hotel room.”
I pounded him with my pillow. Then, I relented, “You’re right, hold on Major. I’ll take you for a walk. Where are my clothes?”
I slipped onto the floor and tossed Candi a handful of twisted strings. “Your thong, or what’s left of it. Guess you’ll go commando today,” I chuckled.
“You wish big boy, it’s not good to go commando in jeans. Rubs my woo-hoo the wrong way. I know you don’t want that.” He chuckled. “Don’t laugh — it’s about proper hygiene.”
“Really? ... I never knew there was a trick to it. TMI if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” I growled sexily. “I told you. Slut that you are, you should always know where it’s been before you kiss it, lick it, tease it — down here,” I cooed, seductively inserting my middle finger and swiping my swelling excitement across his inviting lips.
I licked it off. “You taste like me, baby.. ... day-old salty ... hmmm ... and sweet. FYI, I’ve never licked a pussy I didn’t pet first. Have to test the water before you jump in, you know. Major, my boy, you will have to wait.”
The dog looked painfully on the verge. Then again, so was I. “Major, I’m sorry.” I squirmed sideways on the bed. “This won’t take long I promise,” widely exposing my nether regions to D’s wanting eyes. “Will it, baby?”
“Nope,” was the second word that came to mind, before I planted my mouth where her finger had been. I dove in ... tongue extended ... inhaling ... then tasting ... the flavor of our making.
Something is missing ... I remembered ... “My toy ... baby, where’s my toy?”
I eventually came up for air. “In my bag,” I replied, catching my breath and a short break while I got up and rummaged through my pack. “Found it,” holding up the well-traveled BOA for Candi to see. “Be right back,” I mumbled, disappearing into the bathroom to wash it twice with hot soapy water. If she knew where it’s been, I bet she’d change her mind ... or maybe not. It’s a toy and toys are meant to be shared. Or are they?
Where’d he go in such a hurry? “D, something wrong?”
“Fresh batteries, baby. I must have left it on.” Grinning sheepishly. “Now, where was I?”
The insertion of the BOA, below, beside and on top of my talented twisting tongue tickler, accelerated her climactic conclusion considerably. Four body shivers, two bucking broncs, one muffled moan and three Oh Baby’s signaled we had arrived. Looking into Candi’s sparkling brown eyes, I asked, “satisfied, precious?”
“I am, completely. Thank you, baby. ... Now you.”
“I’m good. This morning was all you.” Rising from the bed, I brought Candi her bag from the closet and leaned over the bed for a kiss. “Major prefers we both join him on his walk. We can shower later and you can wash my back.
“I’ll take you up on your offer on one condition—” I winked.
“Yes?”
“Bring me a warm, wet, soapy washcloth. Then please wash me off your face and out of your beard. You smell gross.”
I've heard that before. “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black. It just proves my point.”
“I got it. You never petted a pussy you didn’t lick ... or something like that. Was I close?”
I smiled. “Close enough.”
Chapter 68
It was a few minutes after six when the three of us left the room. Why shouldn’t there be four? “I’ll meet you in the lobby. Maybe I can get Mile to join us for an early morning romp on the beach.”
“It’s feast or famine with you, D. You just can’t get enough...”
“It’s who I am. Seriously, who wants to hang around with a gimp all day? Might do Mile some good to get away from the three-legged stallion.”
“He can’t walk, but at least she can ride.”
“My thought’s exactly, sidesaddle.”
Sex ... He just had it ... kinda ... and he still thinks about it. I give up! “Major and I will meet you in the lobby.”
Watching them walk to the elevator, I did an about face and traipsed down the hall to Giovanni’s room. Pounding on the door, I listened and waited.
Meekly I heard “Yes” through the door.
“Mile, that you? Major is taking Candi and I for a walk. Would you like to join us?” I heard the latch drop. Standing before me was beautiful unabashed Mile in a short tee shirt, a very short T-shirt — and only that, nothing more. I grimaced.
“Ciao, D. Walk good. Yes I go. Gio no go,” strained Mile in decent English.
I whispered, “Mile, you should never answer the door like this,” pointing at her attire. “You never know who it might be.”
She grinned sheepishly, “I know, D ... You.”
Foot in mouth again. “Clothes on please. We'll meet you downstairs.” With a nod and a kiss on the cheek, Mile closed the door while I stood there speechless. Don’t even go there, slut that you are. Walking to the elevator, I had another epiphany — men have to look. Only real men don’t touch. What does that make me — a real man or slut?
Candi had a black and green tea waiting for me as I stepped off the elevator. “Thank you, precious. I believe this is a first. Usually, I’m the morning gofer.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t get used to it. Let’s just say it's for services unselfishly rendered.”
“Understood. You can use my services anytime.”
“Mile?”
“No, not Mile. My services are off limits to her all the time.”
“Where’s your head, D? Is Mile coming?” He grinned. ... Geez there he goes again. “Is Mile walking with us?”
“Yes, baby, she will be down shortly.” What does she know that I don’t know she knows? “Candi, don’t take this wrong, but do you have eyes in the back of your head? ESP maybe?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is I know by your voice when your mind is preoccupied. Since you’re a man, more times than not, it’s probably sexually related. At least that’s what I read in you. Then again, I could be wrong. You tell me.”
I opened my mouth and removed my foot to reply. Whew! Saved by an elevator.
Mile, dressed in form-fitting yoga pants and her famous tee, stepped through its doors, immediately launching into a spirited tirade with Candi in Italian. Safe!
With Major leading the way and me the odd man out, I found myself walking six feet behind the dog and twelve feet in front of the women, alone. Lucky me. In the two miles up and back I managed to converse all of five minutes about food, as in what’s for breakfast? Narrowing it down to Cra
cker Barrel and IHOP, those being nearest the Harley shop, IHOP won. Blintzes over biscuits, go figure.
We didn’t make eight o’clock, but we made 8:30, dropping Major by the kennel before IHOP called their name. Over a breakfast of crepes, pancakes and blintzes, I stubbornly ate a patty melt, we discussed our trip north to Savannah and Tybee Island. Driving the back roads wherever we could, I hoped we could stay out of heavy traffic and enjoy a leisurely ride.
“You good guide, D. You say, we go,” offered Gio, anxiously waiting to get this 'show on the road.'
“I didn’t do so well last time, Gio,” slapping his cast with my hand. He laughed.
Candi and Mile liked the idea of staying in a historic B&B in downtown Savannah. Gio slowly warmed to the idea as long as there were no stairs to climb. “Maybe a few,” I confessed. “If there’s more, I’ll carry you.” Looking at his sincere expression, somehow I thought he actually believed me.
Chapter 69
While I strapped our meager necessities on my bike, by way of Candi packing light, Gio and Mile filled out a plethora of paperwork, including their passport information, international driver’s licenses numbers, and after asking Gio how he came by the cast, an unlimited waiver of liability with a personal guarantee for excessive damages. Confirming with the rental clerk there were no recently reported moose sightings in the area, we collectively breathed a unanimous sigh of relief.
Reasonably assured that Gio left his video camera in the trunk with his crutches strapped on top, we rolled out of the parking lot at ten o’clock sharp. Shouting to Candi over the engines roar, “it’s been a long day already, baby, and we’re just getting started.”
Leading us north along Highway. A1A, I followed the coastline north, passing through Ormond By The Sea, then Flagler Beach, before stopping at the St. Augustine Lighthouse and Museum. Rising into the sky like a giant black and white striped barber pole, the lighthouse seemed like a great place for the ladies to explore. But, then again, I was traveling with women who thought with their big brains and stomachs.
First, Mile ... “Food?”
Then Candi, “I’m hungry. There’s nothing to eat here.”
Followed by Giovanni’s final interjection, “Beer?”
Defeated, I was outgunned and outnumbered. “SIRI, find us Italian.” And she did, directing me to Trip Advisor and Benitto’s Italian House, boasting eleven hundred favorable reviews.
“Follow me,” I announced, watching the lighthouse disappear in my rear views, driving forward through St. Augustine, the oldest continuously occupied city in America. Just proves I do pay attention to the city limit signs here and not just in Canada.
Winding through the town, we rumbled across 400-year-old cobblestone streets, rattling my teeth, while I thought of another mode of transportation. Fifteen minutes of lefts and rights behind us, we arrived at an odd looking A-framed building. I had Siri confirm it twice, putting me in the doghouse with her all familiar voice. “D, you have arrived at your destination. I am not telling you again!” Geez … What is it with me and women today? I can’t catch a break, even with an inanimate one.
“Italian. We’re having Italian,” I announced. “You can’t judge a book by its cover. This may look like a Swiss Chalet, but it’s Italian through and through. Judging by the stares I was getting, I tossed out my last line of defense. “Don’t trust me, trust Siri. Besides, maybe it’s Italian Swiss.” Fortunately, they did.
Looking to my spicy Italians for guidance, they ordered four of Benitto’s specialties to share, Chicken Piccata, Eggplant Parm, Chicken Parm, and Flounder Francese. By the end of the meal, Gio and Mile praised the talented chefs of Benitto’s for their authenticity. Candi and I, not to be outdone, added our two cents to Trip Advisor, 5 star reviews, 1101 and 1102.
“You good guide, D,” replied Gio. “Where we go next?”
Before I could answer Gio, I felt Candi move in close.
“What have you dreamed up for the rest of today, D?” I asked, as my lips briefly touched his neck.
I chilled. Regaining my composure, “it’s tough being a tour guide with hop along here,” I replied, pointing at Giovanni and the cast he rode in on. “Doing my best to visit places we can ride. Next stop, Bonaventure Cemetery, Savannah. But we need to get there by four. The dead go home around five.”
“I’ve heard of it, D. Johnny Mercer is buried there. Sounds like fun. Let’s ride,” I announced, confidently assuring Mile and Gio it was an integral part of D's master plan.
So much for staying on the back roads, interstates were designed to make time. I-95 did not disappoint, dropping us into Savannah proper by 3:30. Allowing the GPS to route us, it guided us up to the main gates with ease. I stopped, made a generous donation to the Historical Society and snagged a map.
Riding through the ornate iron gates of Bonaventure, time literally stopped. Before us, huge, centuries old live oaks lined the main roads creating a majestic live canopy, dripping of Spanish moss, dancing at times to the recurring oceans breeze. Monstrous concrete pillars, vaults and tombstones of all shapes and sizes, paid homage to another time, another era. Even in death, its residents could still make an eternal statement of their values, their beliefs, their worth. Many of the tombstones in the Jewish section were lined with small stones, signifying someone had visited the grave and reminding those entombed that they were not forgotten.
Looking at Candi, I could tell this place moved her as well. “Speak, baby.”
“D, this is beautiful, serene, peaceful — a place for healing troubled souls in the land of the living, not the dead.”
After spending a generous ninety minutes, exploring, discovering, photographing a simpler time in our past, we rode out through the gates and back into reality. I wanted to return and linger with the memories we made, but today called…
‘Live like there’s no tomorrow.’ I planned to.
Chapter 70
Cruising through downtown Savannah on the way to the B&B, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of squares — twenty-four in all — that the founding fathers located throughout the town’s initial design. Gathering places of green space under massive live oaks where neighbors packed tightly in zero lot line homes could be … neighborly.
After quite a few calls and internet inquiries, I settled on the Kehoe Inn on Habersham. With only three steps to negotiate to access a first floor room, this B&B was centrally located in the heart of the Historic Area. Rolling up to the entrance, I watched Gio and Mile give it the once over. before Gio turned to me and spoke.
“Works, D. Mile like. Candice you? Stairs?”
Patting Candi on the knee, “check us in, please. I’ll bring the Italians and our bags along shortly.”
“With pleasure. Our room does have a garden tub, doesn’t it, D?”
“I can’t remember,” was not what Candi wanted to hear by the pouting of her lower lip. I continued, “I recall one of them does. For my sake, I hope it’s yours.”
“I will let you know soon enough.”
“I am sure you will sweet cheeks,” I quipped, slapping Candi firmly on the rear as she walked past the bike on the way inside.
“Gio, there are only three steps,” I assured him. Unstrapping all our gear, I tossed my bag over my shoulder and carried their bags in each hand.
“I help you, D,” offered Mile.
“Names pack mule D, to you,” replying to Mile, before addressing Gio in my next breath. “Remind me, the next time we ride together to treat you like Candi. Each of you is entitled to one backpack, no more.”
Gio hung his head, “D, all Mile, not me. I bring toothbrush and your De-odor— Right Guard.”
I cracked up. “Mile, did you pack Gio any clothes?”
Reaching into a side pocket of the second bag in my left hand, Mile grinned, producing two stallion-sized, banana hammock, man thongs.
“I know where her heart lies, pal.”
Gio sported a sheepish smile, “not her heart ... how you say ..
. it is her...”
“Multiple orifices, I got it. You look confused. Sorry, orifice. If Mile has a hole you fill it.”
Gio nodded, Mile too, “Si.”
Wrapped up in sexual shenanigans bouncing back and forth between the three of us gave Candi ample time to check in and return.
“I have rooms and keys and no people to fill them. What’s taking you so long?”
“It’s my fault, baby. We were lost in translation. Don’t even go there. I’ll attempt to tell you later,” I smirked. “After you.”
Dropping Mile and Gio off at their ground level room, I asked that we eat in tonight and watch the movie, “Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil.” With no objections, I followed Candi up two flights of stairs to a Queen suite, complimented by a cast iron slipper tub. I lucked out. Brownie points — that is if they are still allowed on this ride.
“Baby, do you remember ... in Missoula, when I pulled you into a tub much like this one, clothes and all?”
I giggled. “I remember being elbow deep in you before you’d let me shed my clothes. What made you so amorous that night? Hold that thought. Oh, I remember — the book you were reading, 50 Ways to Get Laid.”
Men are so clueless sometimes. “It was Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James. You are acting so not Christian right now.”
“Seriously, you’re bringing up my personal beliefs? What have I done that was so bad?”
OMG! “D, Christian is the handsome millionaire male character in the book. It’s on my iPad. You really need to read it. Maybe a little of Christian will rub off on you.”
I took offense. “Did this Christian what’s-his-name give away over a billion dollars trying to fix a situation commonly known in military circles as FUBAR?
“Did Christian unselfishly provide his sweetheart a meal ticket worth 10 mil, and in doing so make his life a living hell?”
I was rolling! “I bet Christian never got his girlfriend off on a motorcycle doing 50, maybe even 60 mph down the open roads with the wind in her hair — come to think of it, I did that twice.”