Date: Thu, 9 Oct 2003 11:35:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: Giovanni Mastrogiacomo <giomjrmastro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Polynesian Perfection

Hey guys, I have to share with you my all to brief experience with a
gorgeous Polynesian man.

September 20-28, I was on vacation on the island of Oahu.  Brigham Young
University sponsors a very worthwhile cultural center that depicts and
maintains the various cultures of the Polynesian islands.  The island of
Fiji captivated me most.  Or rather, a young man in the Fijian village
captivated me -- completely.

Each island nation has a village demonstrating crafts, foods, clothing, and
its specific kind of music and dance.  The racing drum beats of Fiji pumped
up my blood pressure to match the beat of the music as grass-skirted male
dancers waived the knees in and out in that `jungle-style' of dance.

One particular cutie among the group of handsome men wore white leggings.
Strips of tree bark worked over and over, beat to the softness of limp
grass, and bleach bright white were strapped just below his knees.  His
lean, muscular body, a white blur of gyrations, as his sharp, angular face
showed off beautiful white teeth behind an enormous smile.  Thick, thick,
short, dark hair on his head and legs, a smooth muscled torso awash in
sweat as he swept his eyes across his admiring audience.

My camera whirred madly as I snapped a constant stream of photographs,
forever freezing the beauty before me.  He looked directly into my lens.
And smiled in such a way that his eyes shot through my lens, taking hold of
me, sucking me back through the air into his being.  Another Fijian art?

In spite of the cool breeze, I dripped with sweat.  But I behaved myself.
After all, I was old enough to be his, um... `oldest' brother, shall we
say?  I went on my way, oblivious of everything but the fantasies racing
through my mind.

Later that day that same man was teaching people how to throw spears at
coconuts stabbed atop poles just several yards away.  I had to get a
lesson, just to get up close to him!  He handed people spears, explaining
the grip and throwing techniques.  I stood in line, chiding myself for
feeling so nervous, listening carefully to his teachings.

Did he smile wider at me than the others?  He held my hands as he placed my
fingers in position on the spear.  His face, nearly cheek to cheek with
mine as he whispered instructions.  His hand on the small of my back giving
me a third degree burn.  Sweat practically spraying out of every pore of my
body.  He smelled SO good!  Why wasn't HE drenched with sweat?

The crowd exploded into celebration.  Somehow, my spear struck the coconut,
pausing in mid-air for just a second before dropping straight down to the
ground.  My body was being engulfed by this handsome fantasy.  It felt as
if his fingertips pressing on me, between my shoulder blades were wrapping
around my spine.

He stepped back, saying; "For that, I'll give you a special leigh."

"Ha, I wish!"  Was all I could think of.

He and the people around me burst into laughter.

OH MY GOD!  I couldn't possibly have said that out loud, could I?

But he removed the leigh from around his delectable neck and slipped it
over my head, kissing me on each cheek.  Did he linger a fraction too long?
Another hug, tight!

My knees were shaking.  My friends were ruthless, seeing the panic on my
face.

At the end of the day, all the Polynesian village dancers put on a huge
floorshow for the visitors.  Fire swallowing and walking.  Sensual Hula
girls, and lots and lots of vibrating drums, pounding out rhythms that,
somehow, the dancers were able to keep up with.  The show, itself is worth
a trip to the island.

And my handsome dancer made some announcements during intermission.  His
voice was soft and clear, music like no other I'd ever heard before.
During the second half of the show, he came back out with his bright white
leggings, doing that bent-knee, leg-waiving, dance-thing again.  I was
wrecked.  I wasn't sure what my friends found more fun to watch, the show,
or me.

As the show ended my group of so called friends kept pushing at me, telling
me to go AT LEAST congratulate my dancer for a job well done.  Oh God, I
don't have that kind of nerve.  More pushing, to the point of being bodily
ushered over to the entrance to the side of the sunken stage -- a cave
door.

I could see him.  The dancers were hugging and congratulating each other.
He hugged the men, but held hands with the women as he smiled at them.  My
soon to be EX-best friend gave one giant shove and I was launched
backstage.  He looked at me.  He smiled.  This was intolerably sweet agony!

He hugged me, thanking me for coming and asking if I had enjoyed my day.  I
must have said something since he responded with a laugh and slipped his
hand over my shoulder to my back.  He introduced me to several
sweat-dripping men, each one giving me a hug.  Is this a culture thing?  He
really wasn't seeing me as anything special?  Hugging was just a form of
greeting?

The dancer took my hand (!) and pulled me off to the nearly pitch blackened
side, leading me up a narrow stairs.  I was pretty sure he was just going
to give me a quick tour or show me the view from the faux volcano that
provided the backdrop for the floorshow.

He did show me the view from where high up where drummers had pounded out
their impossible rhythms.  There were still dozens of people left in the
auditorium.  I could see my group, finishing their drinks and picking at
the fruit bowls left on our table.

This energetic man looked at me, his face, one big smile, asking me; "Isn't
this great?"

He was still holding me hand.

I told him I had learned a great deal about his people that day.  He turned
toward me asking if I liked what I had learned.  I assured him that he had
opened a new world to me, one I didn't want to leave.  Somehow, his smile
stretched even wider, his teeth, I'm sure, shining bright for the audience.

"Oh, there's so much more to see.  There's no way just one day could be
enough."

"There's no doubt that's true.  I could be an islander.  Especially if you
were there."

What?  Did I say that?

"You are so open.  Your thoughts are visible even before you say anything."

"Oh God."

"No, that's good.  You have a strong, comfortable energy.  I felt it when I
saw you taking pictures this morning."

"You saw me?  And remembered me, out of all the thousands of people here?

"After while the crowd is just a block image.  Very few people stand out.
You're one of them."

Talk about a vacation fantasy!

I started to get nervous.  I had to get away from him or I would be sorry.

"Well, thanks.  You're still dripping.  You really worked up a sweat down
there.  I better let you go."

He kissed me.

I felt his sweat soak into my muscle T-shirt as if I'd just been splashed
with hydrochloric acid.  His body burned like lava.  He pulled my shirt off
trying to maintain our kiss.  I don't remember details; I just know I was
scared to death.  I'm not exactly an expert at sex but I did everything I
could think of to do, there on the floor of that platform, overlooking the
audience.  Thank God for the faux rock wall hiding our naked bodies from,
well...everyone!

We were both dripping with sweat.  Slipping our bodies across each other,
tasting our sweat, me, trying to ignore my terror.  He pulled his dance
belt off, unleashing his beautiful erection, allowing his balls to drop
free -- into my hand, then my mouth.  I loved the way his legs, bubble
butt and abdomen were furry as any muscle bear out there.  But from his
(ticklish) belly button up, his dark skin was completely hairless.  My
tongue searched every inch of his body, making sure I knew every flavor of
every part of him.

I'm not a bottom; I'm too nervous and uptight, scared I'll embarrass
myself.  But my body was his for the taking.  My terror turned to passion.
Finally, my damn brain shut off and my body turned on.  We tangled around
each other and somehow I ended up gasping for breath as he slid his
erection into my sweaty ass.  His hands were everywhere.  My own erection
had never felt so good, gripped tight and being washed inside his mouth.

He nibbled the inside on my thigh as he squeezed his head between my legs
as the draped over his shoulders.  Folding me in half, his hand squashed
between us as it worked magic on my sweat and precum soaked erection.  Our
mouths wide open, trying to inhale each other.  Little whimpering noises
alerting me to what I could feel happening.  Moving faster, then losing his
rhythm, his erection swelled, sweeping aside all my internal organs as it
turned to stone, exploding deep inside of my body and I think, my mind as
well.

Liquid gushed up, filling the air spaces between our sweaty chests.  His
hand, on my erection, caused my body to do the most intense stomach
crunches of my life.  My brain had exploded.  I couldn't remember any of
the spoken languages I worked so hard to perfect.  Speech would have ruined
the moment.  Silently he let my body unfold, gently placing my legs on the
floor as his still rock solid erection pulled out of me.

I was blissfully exhausted.  But I knew sooner or later I would have to
compose myself and rejoin my friends -- who would know full well that
SOMETHING had happened.  Just as I was slowly flexing to sit up, his wet,
sticky body pressed itself flat against my own.  Gently lowering himself
down onto me, even balancing his legs on mine, his body covered me like a
second skin.

His erection pressed into me stomach, his head hanging beside mine; he
spoke softly.  "Believe it or not, the only other man I've ever had sex
with was my boyfriend."

Shit.  I'm the other woman?

"Oops.  I don't think he's going to like this."

"Don't worry he hasn't been around for almost two years."

Salvation!

My `normal' self returned (unfortunately) so I collected myself as best I
could trying for a quick escape.  But before we went down the stairs,
without even thinking, I can't imagining what I was expecting, but I said;
"I don't suppose there's any chance I could maybe stay on the island and
stalk you a little bit?"

His mind-boggling smile shot across his face as he chuckled.

"A couple years ago, after my boyfriend died surfing, I decided to go into
the church.  I'm going to have a lot of penance to do but believe me, it's
been worth any penance I'll have to do."

"No chance of altering the future?"

"I'll tell you what.  You give me your name and stuff and if I ever decide
the church isn't where I fit anymore, you will be the first one I tell.  In
two years of being here, seeing thousands of hot guys come through, not a
single one of them got to me.  I doubt very much if it'll ever happen
again.  There's something about your aura.  My boyfriend was the same way.
I'm not into all that stuff but only twice in my life have I ever felt an
aura like, my boyfriend and now you."

So there it is.  My fantasy dancer.  On his way to becoming a Mormon
minister.  Oh, cruel life, why hast thou me so punished?

Looking at the photographs I took of him, it's weird.  For several of them,
he's looking directly at me, that big, gorgeous smile just glowing bright,
even in the sunshine.