My name is Adrian and I live on a small island in the Caribbean called Martinique with a population of about three hundred and fifty thousand. I'm a nurse at the public Psychiatric hospital and lately, the job has been stressful stemming from the fact that the facility is inundated with young people presenting with substance abuse disorders.
The main drug of choice is Cannabis. I remember back in the day, the THC levels in the drug were low but now, it seems like the producers are pumping higher levels of the chemical into the drug increasing the potency.
I used to smoke weed during college but that shit made me extremely depressed and unmotivated to complete my assignments and just like that, a four year program turned into six. I quit cold turkey and never went back.
But to get back on track, the effects of the drug are catastrophic. People’s brains are fried. Literally. It just seems ironic that a drug that's supposed to be “calming” fuels such violence. In most cases, it's domestic violence that we’re seeing. The most recent case is a 35 year old black man who bludgeoned his father over the head with a brick. The facility has a very close relationship with the Police department and they allow us to review the police report and the court report to see what we’re dealing with. I've learned that Brandon Van Laar smokes up to twelve joints a day and he believes his parents like his other siblings more than him. He and His mother Mrs. Van Laar argued one morning because she refused to give him money. Obviously, he wanted the money for drugs and she told him it's time he moves out and look for a job because she can no longer support him and his drug habit. Mr Van Laar, upon hearing the commotion, came out of his quarters to see what was going on. The argument got very heated and due to Brandon’s hostility, Mr Van Laar asked him to leave. Brandon refused and there was some shoving, some struggling, and the scuffle ended up outside and the two men fell down the stairs that lead to the front yard. Whilst Mr Van Laar was on the ground, Brandon took up a brick and bashed his father's head in until he was unconscious.
Don't worry, the father is fine….to some extent. His head wound required ten stitches. As for Brandon, the court ordered that he undergo a psychiatric evaluation before he is sent to Ducos Penitentiary.
Let me tell you, these evaluations are no easy task. I've had awful days where I had to wrestle with patients who were feral during their detox. I've had patients spit on me, threaten me, curse at me. One time, a huge man punched me in the throat and I couldn't talk for three days.
It's no surprise that the stress of it all gave me hypertension. I exercise and do other things that help me regulate my blood pressure. The thing I like best is going to the beach. I live in St Pierre and I adore St Pierre beach.
As I submerge myself in the turquoise blue water, it feels like I'm cleansing myself of my sorrows and worries, symbolic of being ducked underwater during a baptism.
The best time to go is in the late afternoon. I stand in the water and look towards the ocean that rests behind the many fishing vessels ahead of me. I observe the setting sun as it casts an orange hue all around me. To my right in the distance is the great Mount Pelée Volcano which rests against a backdrop of lush green vegetation.
The water is calm and the sea gulls take advantage and hover dip to hunt sprats. It baffles me how they're able to see the fish so clearly and pick the right timing to take the plunge. I watch as they fly ahead, twirling and swerving here and there, keeping their eyes on the prize, their white wings sparkling in the orange sun.
Sometimes, when they hit the water, they flap their wings dramatically and I fear they’re unable to levitate again but they always do. I watch them for a long time before I head out the water. It’s getting dark but not dark to the point where I can't see where I'm going. I pick up my bag from the sand and head to the car park. I feel great. The stress and burdens that come with my job evaporate from my body for a little while. I open my van and start to dry myself off. There are no changing facilities so between the doors of your vehicle is all the privacy you’re gonna get.
“The best time to go is when the outside is like this.”
I look to my left and see a man looking in my direction.
“Huh?”
“I was saying you should come back in. Most people are gone, anyway. I never have anyone to talk to when I come.”
From the dim lighting of the car park, I can tell that he's handsome. He's tall and he has a low haircut.
His eyesight upon me makes me feel self-conscious. After a few more seconds, he shrugs and starts to change.
Now, it’s my turn to watch him.
I try to be covert in my spying, but Christ!
I can't help but take in all of him. He's wearing long navy cargo pants with splotches of some substance all over it. On top is a black t-shirt.
“What do you do?” I ask him.
“Construction.”
He takes his shirt off and my blood pressure accelerates.
“How about you?”
“Psychiatric nurse.”
He nods and I notice the furrow in his brows as with everyone else who learns I'm a nurse.
He starts to unclasp his belt and step out of his pants—AND UNDERWEAR.
Wow, there's a penis. I'm staring at his penis. Am I the only beach goer that's privy to the sight of this man’s penis?
There is no shyness about him. He’s not sheepish or hurried as he changes into beach shorts. It's almost like he’s inviting me to look and it's actually working because now my pants feel a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. He locks his car door and begins to walk down the pathway to the beach.
He looks back at me and asks “You coming?”
God, please don't let him be a serial killer.
*****
His name is Anthony. He likes to jog during the weekend and he likes to watch detective shows after work at night. He lost his mother to cancer a few years back and his father, who is still alive, currently resides in a care home. He suffers from dementia and Anthony, every morning before work, visits him in the home and reads the entire newspaper to him to keep him abreast of what's happening in the outside world. His father cannot speak due to his condition but his facial expressions, no matter how slight they are, let Anthony know that he hears and understands every word that’s being said to him. His job site and his father’s care home are in the same parish while he lives on the other side of the island.
I learned all of this over beers and pizza after our moonlight swim. At the beach, we mostly made small talk and talked about our jobs and plans for the future. We were the only ones at the beach and at times there was a comfortable silence between us while we enjoyed the cool water. It felt like we’ve known each other for a very long time and I didn't understand why. As time went on, My fear and inhibitions dissipated and I felt so serene.
It got a little windy and the water absorbed the chill and we decided to head out. We dried off and got changed, I put my slacks back on and he put back on his cargos with the stains which I found out to be mortar from cement mixture.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
We walked to a pizza restaurant a few paces away from the beach and we sat on a bench under a street lamp and enjoyed it. The lighting allowed me to see his features more clearly. He has a low-cut mustache but other than that, his face is extremely smooth, like satin. It’s the same type of precision you see in military personnel who keep their face clean shaven.
He has bushy eyebrows, big ears, a big nose and a nice pair of shapely lips. His arms and legs are also big.
It seems like everything about him is big. From the look of his penis, I can only hypothesize about it's might when he's fully hard
After a while, he checks his watch and tells me he has to go. He says he wants to check into a hotel because the drive back home is a long one and he doesn’t want to take the risk and possibly fall asleep at the wheel. I check my watch and notice it's way past 10.
Today was a late day for him and our time together added to that.
The words leave my mouth before I play them over in my head. “You can stay with me until the morning.”
“Really? I hope I'm not…”
“You're not.”
I get in my van and he follows me to my house.
I inherited a small cottage from my maternal grandparents, bless their souls. It's nice and cozy but it's a little old and it has a few structural problems that need tending to.
Like the one Anthony is telling me about now at the dinner table as we enjoy camomile tea.
“Hey, Adrian, I noticed you have some cracked floor tiles in your shower.
“Yeah, they were broken when I moved in,” I replied.
“I can fix them for ya” he says, eying me over the rim of his mug. “Just buy the tiles and I'll come over during my free time.” He said it in such a way that it was impossible to say no.
“Okay.”
He slept on my couch and I slept in my room. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
When I went to my fridge to put something together for breakfast, I noticed a note on the door. It reads “ I had a nice time yesterday. Thanks for staying with me at the beach and thanks for allowing me to stay with you in your home. It meant a lot." At the bottom, there was his telephone number.
*****
I am smitten. The last time I felt like this was in high school when I had a crush on the captain of the boy’s basketball team. His name was Liam and to this day I don't know what it was I saw in him. He was scrawny and tall. I guess the most attractive thing about him was his height—oh and his green eyes.
But Liam is nothing like Anthony. Anthony is a man. A man. There's something so attractive about a man with a manly job. Of course he builds things. I wouldn't expect anything different. I can tell that his physique is from all the toiling and lifting he does at the construction site. At work, I enter his number into my keypad several times but I never follow through with pressing the green button.
If he picks up, I wouldn't know what to say. I felt like I needed a legitimate reason to call him and after work, I went to the hardware store and bought the stupid tiles and tile cement.
At home, I called and my heart was beating so fast that I thought it was gonna pop out of my chest. The phone rang about five times before someone answered.
“Hello” said a groggy voice.
“Hi, Anthony, did I wake you?.”
I look at the clock in the living room and see that it's 9 pm.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“I– it's Adrian.”
There's a pause. A very long pause and I helped him a bit by saying “from the beach.”
“Ohhhhhh, heyyyyy. What's up, I thought you'd never call.”
“I never got a chance to. Work was—work is work, basically.”
He laughs and says he understands.
“Listen, I bought the tiles and I guess if you still can, you can fix the broken ones.”
“Sure, I'm off tomorrow so I can come over and sort it out.”
“Okay. How are you?” I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as I ask.
“I'm okay, just a little tired. You?”
“I'm cool.”
I ended the conversation before I said something stupid.
*****
The next morning, I called in a lieu day at work. Anthony arrived around 11 and immediately got started on the tiles while I cooked us lunch.
The clanging and pounding of the ceramic in the bathroom doesn’t bother me at all. The noise is a reminder that there's someone in my house and it feels nice to have someone in my space. While in the kitchen, I couldn't stop my mind from fantasizing about what my life would be like if he were my boyfriend.
For starters, he'd be great to have around as a handyman. He builds stuff and he does tiling, who knows what other trades he possesses?
He likes the beach and I can tell he'd be great in bed. These are the only criteria I can think of and he meets them exceptionally well.
As I’m stirring the meat sauce for the lasagne, I hear a cry.
“Anthony?!”
I wipe my hands and rush to the bathroom and I see Anthony standing like a flamingo with blood dripping from his left foot.
“I stepped on one of the broken tiles.” He tells me sheepishly.
“Why aren't you wearing shoes?” I ask him, alarmed at the amount of blood I'm seeing.
I go to the cabinet above the face basin and take out my first aid kit.
“Sit.” I command and I stoop down and hold him by his calf and examine the cut. There's so much blood and it's starting to stain my white apron. I set his foot down in my lap and I start to clean it and I realize that it doesn't look deep so it doesn't require stitches.
I douse it with alcohol and I hear him wince and I immediately follow with hydrogen peroxide. I let it dry and shortly after, I apply a bandage and wrap it with gauze.
He's wearing a pair of black shorts and from my position, I get to observe how they ride up his strong hairy thighs and I can see the mound of his package between his legs.
I avoid his eyes but I can feel his on me.
After I'm through with my work, I stand and I put out my hand for him to grab so I can help him off the floor and I pull him a little too hard and our chests and fronts collide with one another.
“Sorry” he whispers, looking down at me, and he's still in my personal space, close enough that I can smell his breath. There's an exhilarating energy swirling in the air and I can't stop myself from leaning upwards and putting my lips on his.
I immediately pull back feeling foolish but he leans down and reconnect our lips and he kisses me for a long time before he scoops me up in his arms like a princess and hops on his one good foot all the way to my bedroom.
I can't stop myself from giggling because it feels surreal that this is actually happening. Preposterous even. Anthony, although panting and sweaty from the exertion, gently places me in the middle of the bed. He uses his knee to part my legs and he comes between them and rests all of his weight on me and resumes our kissing session. I wrap my arms around his neck and welcome him. He is such an amazing kisser and his lips taste sweet.
I become aware that we are both hard and we start to grind against each other. I start to enjoy it a little too much and I stop him.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Let's do something else.”
“Okay, what do you have in mind?”
Anthony lies next to me and I help him out of his shirt. I look at his pants and the protrusion is impressive. I take them off and I take a long time to appreciate the organ.
“You can touch it, ya know.”
I get up and lie on my stomach between his legs and I get a closer look. It’s long and thick but not too thick. There's no foreskin. The head is as vibrant as a peony and his shaft is adorned with many veins in a showy display of how powerful it is.
The way it stands tall and juts from his pelvis reminds me of Mount Pelée.
I believe a penis has a similar make-up and design to a volcano. The sperm in the testes represent the magma at the volcano’s base. Extreme heat and pressure causes the magma to rise up through the main vent and lava escapes from the Volcano’s crater. As it relates to the penis, the vent is analogous to the sperm duct and urethra and the crater is the thin opening in the dick's head.
On that account, I want his sperm. Thus, I use the heat and pressure of my mouth and throat to extract it.
I welcome his hardness into my mouth and I employ the wetness of my saliva to help me slither my lips up and down the measure of him. When I look up at him he's staring down at me with a smile on his face, a look of contentment and his hands are resting behind his head in a very relaxed manner.
God. How did I get so lucky? To have this beautiful man with me in my bed on a Saturday morning.
I go all the way down and I bury him in my throat and I repeat this manoeuvre until I feel tremors emanating from his lower body. He tries to move my head away but I hold firm and let him ride out his orgasm.
Mount Pelée has been dormant since 1932 but Mount Anthony erupts in my mouth on January 25th, 2025.
He swamps my swallow pipe with his essence and I drink what I can.
He's moaning expletives like “Fuck” and “shit” as I tug him with my lips to bring forth every drop of seed from his balls. I release him and I use the back of my hand to wipe the residual from my chin and bring it to his mouth and he licks my hand and individually sucks all of my fingers.
He's making me so hot. I flip him onto his stomach and raise his trunk in the air so he's on all fours. I massage his cheeks and part them and examine his hole. Like his legs, between there is hairy.
I immediately grease my index and middle fingers to probe his insides to relax the muscles there.
I start with my index finger and work my way in. As soon as I breach the ring, Anthony’s asshole instantly consumes my entire finger and clenches it. He feels warm and soft and nice.
Thereupon, I work my digit in and out and Immediately recognize a change in Anthony’s breathing and I feel his body move with the motions of my finger.
“Haaah” he moans as I add my middle finger and start to force my way further up inside him until I feel the mass of his prostate. At this point, Anthony’s penis lengthens again and hangs down between his legs and I hold it in my fist while I continue to open him up.
I'm honoured that he's allowing me to take command like this.
I'd like to taste his man-pussy but I can't put this off any longer. I need to be inside him now. I remove my clothes, put a condom on and I guide myself into him.
“Oooowuhhhaaahh!” Anthony cries out. I don't know if that's from pain or pleasure but Jesus Othello Christ! I double over because he is unbelievably tight. I keep still for a bit to compose myself and a short while later, I hold onto his flanks and start to fuck into him. The way he squeezes me makes my mind whirl.
I give him all of me, deep and hard. I look down and watch the way my dick goes in and out of him and it's a sight to see. He is at my mercy and I welcome all of the pulsing pleasure coursing through every fibre of my being.
As I glance down at him, he's gripping the sheets in his fists and I pull out.
I coach him onto his back and lean down and kiss him sloppily.
“Are you doing okay?”
He blushes and says, “I’m a tough guy, I can take it.”
I take that as permission to continue so I lay down and lift him onto my lap so that he's straddling me. I impale him again with every inch of my long penis and this time I don't hold back and his face tells me it's a little painful for him but he never tells me to stop so I keep going and going until it's my volcano that finally erupts inside of him.
