When Kari approached the cook shack, Paul noticed right away she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples protruded against the white shirt so firmly that he could see their color against the white. His half-subsided cock stiffened again. It’s going to be a long hard night, thought Paul. They ate dinner under the star deep purple of early nightfall. The lantern in the shack threw a orange yellow glow out the windows, but they were far enough away to not be bothered by its light.
“Have you noticed, there are no mosquitoes this evening,” said Kari. “This is the first time I can recall not having to constantly swat away bugs while I ate.”
“No I hadn’t noticed, but you are right. I don’t even hear any insects in the trees.” It was odd to hear nothing at all. “I wonder if a storm is coming.” David had been too busy imagining Kari nude and lying next to him to think about bugs.
“I don’t think so. The sunset was crimson tonight. High pressure for at least a week,” she offered.
She had almost missed noticing the absent bugs as well. Her mind kept replaying the sight of Paul’s stiff manhood. She stole sly looks at him and imagined him naked, his body pressed against hers. She wondered if he was still a virgin or if some lucky cowgirl in western Nebraska had made a man of him already. They picked at the remains of their dinner long enough. They both rose and entered the cook shack, busing their own dishes. Together they cleaned the cook shack, including the dishes left from the morning by the departed group that went to town. When they finished, Paul screwed up the courage to ask a question.
“Would you like to walk to the beach or the overlook and view the stars? There is no moon tonight, the sky will be filled.”
This was the first time Paul had ever asked Kari to do anything that remotely resembled a date. He steeled his pride to be let down.
“That’s a great idea. Let me get something first. Could you grab us a blanket and some flashlights for the trip back?”
“S-s-s-sure thing,” he stuttered through his nerves.
He went to his tent and grabbed the clean summer sleeping bag he kept as a spare. He also grabbed two headlamp lights and two handheld lights. For good measure, he grabbed his backpack, which he always kept filled with bottles of water, matches, a survival knife and toilet paper. In the tropics you need to be careful what you wipe with. He met Kari back at the cook shack and she was carrying a small pack herself. She had changed out of her long pants into a pair of tight shorts that made a work of art out of her ass.
They headed toward the path that led down to the ocean. Where it was wide enough, they walked side by side, discussing The Jaguar legend and what supposed powers those stones might contain. Occasionally their hands brushed against each other, each time felt like an electrical current passed between them. Neither mentioned it, fearing they were imagining it. They reached a rocky bluff overlooking the Pacific. The sound of distant surf rose up from below. Paul opened his sleeping bag and spread it out. They both sat down on it.
“Do you drink Paul?” asked Kari.
“Well, I have….” he replied. In western Nebraska, if you are big enough to hold the bottle steady, your parents would let you have a beer now and again. Paul was no exception. “But it’s not like I drink all the time or anything.”
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