There’s nothing nicer than being kissed awake in the morning. Slowly, over every inch of your body. The kissing becomes licking and slowly brings you from a blurry dreamland to an intoxicating wake-sleep. If I hadn’t drunk so much the night before, I might have been the beneficiary of such a wake up. Instead I was wide awake at 5.30am, trying to distract myself from the thought of us fucking because that would not be for another hour and a half.

Vodka then champagne, bad mistake. I felt seedy, ordered some coffee and took a shower. It took me fifteen minutes to work out how to close the curtains. They were electronic and gadgets are not my thing. I’d love to be a hotel consultant, I have a lot to say about lighting and facilities in hotel rooms…

With the curtains finally closed and coffee kicking in, I laid back on the bed to think up an entry strategy and fantasize a little before his arrival. Lingerie seemed pointless, so I went with nothing. There was some ribbon from a gift that he’d left for me in the room. Dark red; some thick, some thinner. I tied the thin around my thigh with a bow on it. The thick piece was perfect for a blindfold, so I covered my eyes and let my mind wander until I heard the door unlock. I asked if there was a hot Brit in the room and heard a laugh. I’d made it so I really couldn’t see anything. I heard clothes being thrown about then felt him get onto the end of the bed and run a hand over my body. He put his cock against my lips. He let it run over my chin and down my chest, across my thighs, between my legs.

We played for a couple of hours, fucking and talking. You don’t often find someone you want to consume so much, over and over. I wonder how long it will last? A while I think. He’s sweet and generous and smart and way too much, in a good way.

I prefer an alarm clock over a rooster. The rooster cannot be persuaded to change the timing of its crows and cannot be shut off. It might crow for fifteen minutes or even half an hour. Being a sleep junkie, these sorts of things cause me to question my desire for a ‘local’ experience when traveling.  Come to think of it, chickens are a recurring motif in my expeditions. I still feel blame for the demise of one in Northern Italy after being assigned to make a selection from a crazy bunch in the coup, for consumption later on Christmas Day.  A rather curious hen found its way into my room in a riad in Marrakesh, apparently it had a taste for mint tea;)

The Mexican rooster has finally stopped. I doesn’t matter anyway as I have to get up for my scuba dive at 9am.

Hans: German, very tan, blond, tall, very fit, bright blue eyes, the tiniest goatee known to man. Very professional. Not flirty. Gave the Refresher Course with efficiency and precision. I tried to absorb it all. Phrases like “It will just be you and me”, “I will do everything for you”, “we will go down together” stood out.  The other men gave him a look as we climbed aboard the boat for my first dive in a while, the type of congratulatory nod I often see given to guys accompanying an attractive woman, who it is presumed they will be spending time alone with later on. Hans however, is not a ‘lad’ and was careful to mention his wife and daughter during our chitchat as we walked to the boat. I always take such upfront disclosure seriously and activate my mental blinders immediately. I didn’t see any harm however, in accepting Hans’ offer of help with my wet suit. It was tight to get into because wet suits expand in the water and the zip, which started at my mid-right thigh and went up across my left breast to my neck, was difficult to do up on my own.

I sat on the edge of the boat and waited to be pushed overboard. Hans and I made our way to the sea floor, only about 20 feet in depth where we were anchored. There are lots of safety procedures when you’re diving, such as having a buddy’s air supply available at all times. Really though, it’s only a functioning respirator and your ability to use it that stands between life and a pretty unpleasant demise gasping for air. Breathing from one that’s clogged means that water is sucked into your lungs, causing you to cough and inhale desperately on the sea floor, knowing you are deathly amounts of time away from the surface. Still, I tried not to let this distract me from Hans and the myriad sea creatures he began pointing out on the rock wall as we continued to descend. It was dusk and the light was fading quickly below the surface. Diving with a torch allows you to see the amazing colors of the marine world much more vividly. I fell in love with a big blue puffer fish who let me pet him after kissing my goggles. It’s really all the love I’m looking for on this trip. It’s a short vacation for the purposes of rejuvenation and solitude. That said, I have hired Jorge to take me driving up the coast tomorrow. He said he wants me to have a beautiful day and that he will treat me like a princess. Not necessary, I said but it does sound nice….We will eat filet mignon and drink red wine and I will swim in the beautiful sea, apparently. Don’t worry, I’ve had the chat with Jorge and we’ve established that we are just friends and will remain so. He just wants me to have the best experience of his country and go back and tell everyone I know to come here, he says. Actually Jorge does seem like a truly sweet guy, concerned with things like respect and honor, that I had almost forgotten existed. He’s bringing a BB King CD for the car trip–I’m sure it’s going to be an interesting day.

Occasionally I receive a request for something I may not have done a lot of before and as a lover of variety, I’m open to suggestions. I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what I like and what’s just not going to work. Some time ago I received a list of items and a request to procure each one in the best quality available. So I took myself downtown willingly and with anticipation in search of the evening’s party tricks. I was about to discover a new interest and learn a little about myself at the same time.

His personality was so masculine, so sure of what he wanted. His eyes were covered, wrists and ankles tied down, mouth muffled, nipples clamped, cock caged and ringed and I was sitting on top of him in crotch-less underwear and gloves. He barely moved as I bound more and more of his body, restricted his senses one by one. If you don’t know someone particularly well, this requires a lot of faith. It was fascinating and unexpected to have him so literally under my control but even in his submission he seemed strong and self-possessed. I was entranced by his restraint and seeming enjoyment of it. I licked, pulled, bit and kissed my way around his body and the various apparatus. Eventually I untied and decaged him. He had an incredible hard on that I was desperate to relieve. For him it didn’t seem to matter if we fucked but he did me the favor anyway. I still remember how it felt, so hyper-real, kind of carnal. I really didn’t expect to enjoy it quite so much.