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I walked up behind him, put my arms around him and kissed his neck. He turned his head and kissed me back. “I hope you don’t mind me helping myself to breakfast” he said. “After last night I was starving. There’s food on the table for you if you want.” I kissed him again and said “No problem. I am hungry too.” Paul finished eating first and went into the den. I watched him walk away think how much I wanted that ass again. I finished my food and followed after him. I found him on the sofa in the den sitting quietly with a wry smile on his face. “What are you smiling about?” I asked him. “Well, it took my 25 years to find you and make my dream come true.” he said. “And while we have this weekend together, I don’t think it will be enough to hold me over another 25 years.” “Then let’s make the most of the time we do have.” I said as I knelt down beside the sofa. I reached out and took his cock in my hand and I kissed the tip. Inside I knew he was right. This weekend wouldn’t be enough.. We were both wearing batik sun-dresses over our swim suits, our eyes shaded by brod-brimmed straw hats. An iguana was sunning itself on the rocks below us, the sea was an intense blue off-shore, pale turquoise over the sands of the Grand Anse. Over at the Grenada Yacht Club, three miles across the bay, there were more boats than usual, all assembled for the regatta. And there was Vellella, moored just below us. While we waited for lunch, I was drinking draft beer, almost the only place on the where it was served, and Jeannine had a rum punch, one of the specialties of the house, a punch Karen had named "Tabanca Tear's". What was this tabanca which afflicted Karen? An armadillo poked its nose out of a crack in the rocks and sniffed the air. The Grand Anse beach was almost deserted in the lethargy of midday, but I idly watched two girls strolling along hand in hand, the shorter one with bare shoulders, clad in a pareo, that south-seas wrap which had become popular amongst tourists in.
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