The Man I Slept Next To
I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings of Cinnamon’s apartment. Her bed was a cozy sanctuary, and I was still wrapped in her arms, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, a sweet blend of shampoo and perfume that I couldn’t get enough of. My erection was still nestled between her butt cheeks, a gentle reminder of the passion we’d shared last night.
Cinnamon stirred, jerking awake and turning to face me with a look of fear in her eyes. She quickly relaxed, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice husky from sleep.
“Good morning,” I replied, smiling back at her. We kissed, the tension between us dissipating as we deepened the kiss.
“We need to get ready for the day,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to move, this feels so good.”
“No, don’t move,” I whispered back, my lips still on hers. “I’ll stay right here with you.”
Her cat, Char, jumped up onto the bed, meowing loudly until Cinnamon got up to feed her. I watched her breasts bounce as she walked towards the kitchen, feeling a surge of desire.
“Do you want to play ‘Follow the Leader’?” she asked, her voice playful.
“With you leading, I’ll definitely follow,” I replied, grinning at her.
Cinnamon took my hand, leading me into the bathroom. The shower was already running, the water warm and inviting. We stepped under the spray, the heat enveloping us like a cocoon. Cinnamon started by rubbing soap on my chest, her hands moving deftly over my skin. I returned the favor, soaping her breasts and watching as she tipped her head back, her eyes closing in pleasure.
As we showered, our hands moved over each other’s bodies, the soap and water creating a sensual melody. I moved my hand around to her back, caressing her smooth skin, before reaching around to her rear end, squeezing and massaging her firm cheeks. She moaned, her hands moving up and down my back, as I circled my fingers around her ass hole, her sphincter squeezing down on them.
“Fuck me, Andy! Fuck me!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower.
I pushed her back against the wall, using my hand to guide my erection into her vagina. I continued to move my fingers in the back, feeling her tightness around me. Cinnamon gasped for breath, her vaginal muscles clamping around me as she reached her orgasm.
As we finished showering, we dried each other off, the excitement of the moment still pulsating between us. We got dressed, had a quick breakfast, and left for the day, Char’s dry food and water bowl taken care of.
“We have the whole day,” Cinnamon said, starting the engine. “Is there anything you know you want to do?”
“Well, yesterday when I went exploring I saw a sign for Blackbeard’s Tower toward the east end of the island,” I said, feeling a sense of excitement. “I’ve always had some fascination with pirates.”
“And I…ah…never mind,” I added, feeling a little shy.
“What is it? You can say anything,” Cinnamon encouraged, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of vulnerability. “Yesterday I came across some men who had been out fishing. Fishing here would be an interesting experience. But that would require a lot of planning beforehand.”
Cinnamon smiled, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve never been fishing here either. I used to go fishing with my father in Wisconsin. We’ll try to find Blackbeard’s Tower later today. I do have to stop at the hotel before we start our day.”
We drove off, crossing the bridge to Paradise Island. Cinnamon parked outside the main entrance, going inside while I waited in the car. 10 minutes later she returned, a bright smile on her face.
“We’re going to the Queen’s Staircase, the water tower, and Fort Fincastle first,” she told me, her eyes shining with excitement.
We parked at the bottom of the stairs, the vendors selling items that were right out of the downtown Straw Market. Cinnamon and I took pictures of each other, one of the men selling items offering to take a picture of us for a dollar. I handed him the money, feeling a sense of generosity.
Cinnamon and I walked up the stairs, holding hands, the small waterfall cascading down toward the bottom a soothing melody. I noticed several men turning their heads to look at Cinnamon, some with an expression of recognition on their face. She was a beautiful woman, and I couldn’t blame them for noticing her.
At the top of the stairs, I purchased a number of picture postcards and a short book with information regarding the staircase, water tower, and fort. This was the highest point on the island, and it made sense that the water tower and fort were located here. The stairs were constructed to make it easier to get to the high point where the fort was located.
Cinnamon and I took the elevator to the top of the water tower, the elevator operator reciting a short history of the water tower and statistics regarding its elevation. We walked around the observation deck, taking in the breathtaking view of the island. It was a wonderful sight, with two significant-sized lakes in the general direction of the airport.
Cinnamon and I took pictures of each other, a young boy offering to take a picture of us together. I handed him a couple of dollars, feeling a sense of charity.
We left the water tower and walked over to Fort Fincastle, the fort shaped like a paddle boat to deceive ships approaching the harbor. When it was used as a fort, it had a number of cannons to be used if unfriendly ships approached. We walked around the fort, but didn’t take the “official” tour. Again, there were several men taking more than a casual notice of Cinnamon, some with an expression of recognition.
We left the fort and went back down the Queen’s Staircase to the car, driving off toward the west. In a few minutes, we came to another fort, Fort Charlotte, a much larger fort. We walked across the bridge over the dry moat, joining a group that was gathering for a tour.
Our tour guide went through the history of the fort, injecting humor as he did. We completed the upper level and moved to the lower level, where there were dungeons with mannequins depicting tortures that may have taken place. When we came to the rack, the tour guide said, “And this is how they created players for the NBA.”
Most everyone chuckled, and we completed the tour of the lower level. The guide told us to stick around for the firing of the cannon at noon. I handed the guide $5 as we exited the lower level. The firing of the cannon was in 15 minutes, so we waited around, taking pictures of each other standing by one of the cannons.
A young boy came over and offered to take a picture of us together, and I tipped him. A group was gathering, and we joined them. Again, I noticed men taking obvious notice of Cinnamon, a young man telling the group about the cannon.
After the cannon was fired, we left and grabbed a quick lunch, then headed for Ardastra Gardens. I paid for our admission, and we walked along the path with our arms around each other, looking at several of the plants and animals on display.
We got to the center of the gardens, where there was an open area with benches arranged in a semi-circle. People were gathering for “The March of the Flamingos” show, which was scheduled to occur in about 15 minutes. The trainer stepped out, and soon the flamingos followed, parading around the circle.
The trainer asked if anyone would like to step into the circle and have the flamingos surround them. I encouraged Cinnamon to go out, so I could get a few pictures. The flamingos surrounded her, and I took several pictures, feeling a sense of wonder.
After the show ended, we walked over to the sea life area, where there were a number of fish and other interesting sea creatures. We came around the corner and saw a large shallow pool with a number of sea turtles.
A man came out and asked, “Would you like to see the turtles close up?”
“Yes!” we said in unison, feeling a sense of excitement.
Cinnamon tugged on my arm, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, and whispered, “Don’t buy anything made out of turtle shells. Sea turtles are endangered and you can’t take turtle products into the U.S.”
As we walked into the gift shop, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of turtle shell jewelry on display. The prices were steep, but I was tempted to splurge. Cinnamon, sensing my hesitation, gave me a gentle nudge and whispered, “Maybe you should stick to the conch shell necklaces.”
I smiled and nodded, buying two necklaces with conch shell pendants shaped like hearts. As we left the gift shop, Cinnamon asked, “What did you buy?” I replied, “Something for my mother.”
We drove to the location of Blackbeard’s Tower, the gravel area and sign guiding us up a narrow, winding trail. Cinnamon’s rear end bounced enticingly in front of me, and I couldn’t help but steal glances. The trail steepened, and we continued on, our senses heightened as we ascended.
A couple approached us from below, and I recognized the woman from the hotel hot tub. She smiled at me, while her partner, a scruffy-looking man, eyed Cinnamon with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. We continued on, reaching the tower and its corroded metal sign, which provided a cryptic history of the structure.
As we climbed to the top, the view of the east end of the harbor unfolded before us. I turned to Cinnamon and kissed her, saying, “Thanks for a wonderful day.” She hugged me tightly, her body pressing against mine, and I felt a surge of desire.
I suggested we move to the lower level, where we could be more discreet. Cinnamon agreed, and we descended, our hands reaching for each other as we removed our clothes. We stood naked, our bodies entwined, and I gazed at Cinnamon’s curves, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You are staring,” Cinnamon said, her voice husky with desire.
“Sorry!” I replied, my eyes locked on hers.
“Don’t be,” she said, her lips curling into a smile. “It’s a compliment.”
I placed my hands on her breasts, and Cinnamon moaned, her body arching into my touch. I pushed her up against the wall, my lips meeting hers in a fierce kiss.
“Ye have ample bosoms, my wench,” I said, trying to do my best pirate imitation.
“What are your intentions, ye swarthy brute?” Cinnamon responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I intend to have my way with you and ravish you,” I said, my hands roaming her body.
Cinnamon’s body tensed, and I felt her clitoris swell beneath my fingers. I pushed my fingers deeper, and she moaned, her body shaking with pleasure.
“Continue, my swarthy beast,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I circled her clitoris with my fingers, feeling her body tense and release as I worked my magic. She shivered, shook, and gasped, her body locked in a frenzy of pleasure.
“I’m ready for you to ‘shiver me timbers’,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire.
“If your cannonballs are ready, you should load your cannon,” I replied, my eyes locked on hers.
I moved my pelvis backward, and Cinnamon guided me into her. Her warm body enveloped me, and I felt a surge of pleasure as I slid into her.
“Time to prime your cannon,” Cinnamon said, her voice husky with desire.
We pounded against each other, our bodies locked in a frenzy of pleasure. I felt her clamp around me, and I shouted, “The cannon is primed!” as I felt her orgasm wash over me.
“Fire when ready!” Cinnamon exclaimed, her body tensing around me.
“Firing!” I shouted, my balls tightening as I shot my load into her.
Cinnamon’s body stiffened, and she shuddered, her arms and vaginal muscles squeezing me in a second orgasm. I continued to pump, feeling her body relax and then tense again.
“Stop, stop!” she exclaimed, her body releasing its grip on mine.
“And you shivered me timbers,” I replied, my body still locked in the aftermath of our lovemaking.
We held each other, our bodies still entwined, until our breathing returned to normal and our hearts stopped pounding in our chests. We gathered our clothes and began getting dressed, our movements quiet and deliberate.
As we descended the crumbling steps, we were passed by a couple with two young boys and a younger girl. The father took a long look at Cinnamon, and the mother asked, “How much farther?” I replied, “Not far, a little over 100 feet, but it gets steeper.”
We continued on, reaching the car and driving to Cinnamon’s apartment. She got out to feed her cat, while I waited in the car, my mind wandering to the men who had taken notice of her today.
As Cinnamon returned to the car, she said, “I have some news. Do you still want to try fishing?” I replied, “Yes, but it’s too late.” She smiled and said, “Not today, silly. Tomorrow! The husband of someone I work with takes people out fishing for a living. He usually takes Tuesday and Wednesday off, but agreed to take us out for half price if we pay for gas and bait.”
“That sounds wonderful! Thank you!” I said, my heart full of gratitude.
Cinnamon ordered room service and we ate and relaxed in my hotel room. As the night wore on, we grew tired and undressed, snuggling into bed together.
“That feels good,” Cinnamon said, her body relaxing into my touch.
“But no sex tonight. I’m a little sore,” she added, her voice barely audible.
“I understand,” I said, my hand still cupping her breast.
Cinnamon spoke up after a minute, her voice hesitant. “Well… I may know why men look at me like that.”
“Why?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I was in Playboy a couple of years ago,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I let that sink in, my mind reeling with the implications. I spoke up after a moment, “You are sure someone I would like to see naked.”
“You… you don’t think less of me, do you?” Cinnamon asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
“No, not at all,” I replied, my heart full of sincerity.
Cinnamon fell asleep soon after, her body exhausted from the day’s events. I lay awake for a short time, my mind still reeling from the revelation that I had made love to a Playboy model.