Hot and Humid Read online

  A Total-e-bound Publication

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  Hot and Humid

  ISBN # 978-1-906328-88-7

  ©Copyright Shermaine Williams 2008

  Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright November 2007

  Edited by Janice Bennett

  Total-e-bound books

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.

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  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork

  Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road

  , Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning:

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  HOT AND HUMID

  Shermaine Williams

  Dedication

  For Samantha, a wonderful sister, with love and gratitude.

  Chapter One

  “Jeanette…Jeanette, de bus comin’,” my aunt called with an unnecessary sense of urgency.

  I had heard the music playing but ignored it on the basis that music was always playing and anyway, I was busy getting ready. Taking another quick look at myself in the mirror, I wondered whether it was wise to wear shorts, but it was too late now. Besides, the shorts were quite long and baggy and served to cover my ample backside—known as ’The Bubble’—pretty well.

  Despite the music blaring from the speakers, the driver still felt the need to announce his presence by beeping the horn, which didn’t please Aunt Yvonne.

  When I had called her to ask if I could come and stay, she made it seem like I was being ridiculous by even asking. She was happy to accommodate me on my whim.

  In order to briefly escape from the rut that was my life, I’d decided to take a spontaneous holiday in my parents’ native Grenada, determined to have as much fun as possible before returning to my life of work, bills, cold weather, useless men and general malaise. A life that was just too damn boring for words.

  Once I’d made the decision to go away, there was no question that I would opt for anywhere other than The Isle of Spice. I’d been several times before, though not for a few years, and just felt comfortable. It was like coming home. Sometimes I liked to imagine what my life would have been like if I was born here, if I emigrated even, but alas, it was merely a pipe dream. I have a mortgage to concern myself with now.

  Grabbing my rucksack, I hurried out of the bedroom in time to hear my aunt complaining about the apparent impertinent gesture.

  “Wha’ da damn man blowin’ for?”

  I could only smile, knowing that as cantankerous as she seemed, she was a lovely woman. She had organised this day out for me. Usually when I’m in Grenada my time is spent either visiting family and friends or lying on the beach. But when I told her that I wanted to enjoy myself and blow off some steam, she told me about a man she knew who might be able to help in that regard.

  He worked at one of the hotels in St. Georges and organised the excursions for ‘de rich people an’ dem’. Although I wasn’t staying at the hotel, he agreed to get the mini-bus to stop off and pick me up for a day of hiking in the mountains. Now I’m not the fittest person in the world, but even if I was, who in their right mind goes hiking in this heat? And that’s coming from a sun worshipper!

  But Aunt Yvonne was still enthusiastic on my behalf, saying it would be nice for me to see some parts of the island that I hadn’t seen before. It was a good point, so I tried to put my apprehensions aside and enjoy it. Besides, I could probably do with getting in shape—my figure wasn’t exactly attracting any fine specimens—and what better way to start than to go for a hike? With a quick hug and kiss, I said bye to my mum’s sister before stepping out into the blazing sun. As I skipped down the few steps from the veranda, I felt rather strange wearing socks and hiking boots in this weather.

  “Take care, you hear.”

  She stood on the veranda watching me leave, and I replied by giving her a quick wave as I approached the mini-bus. It looked full up and I don’t know why, but I was surprised by how many white people were on board.

  As he saw me approach, the driver got out and walked around to meet me, and he could only be described as a man mountain. He looked like no man I had ever seen before and though I could feel myself staring at him, I couldn’t look away. The men I had met back at home always tended to be too weedy or laden with a beer belly. But this guy could only be described as a tall, dark, broad vision of loveliness.

  What would have been a baggy T-shirt on an average man was straining against his broad chest, distorting the word ’Canada‘ which was printed across the front in bold black lettering, contrasting with the white background. I couldn’t help but marvel at his biceps, the circumference of which could easily match that of my thigh, which wasn’t exactly skinny.

  “G’mornin’, miss.”

  “Good morning.” I smiled back, noticing his perfect, straight white teeth.

  “Yuh gwine sit up front wid me.”

  I clambered up into the passenger seat after he opened the door for me and exchanged greetings with the other holiday-makers before leaving them to chat amongst themselves. I just managed to turn in time to see my aunt nod curtly in reply to his cheery “G’mornin’, Miss Yvonne.”

  “Yuh aunt ain’t easy, you know,” he said as he eased his bulk behind the steering wheel.

  “I know,” I chuckled guiltily. “But she means well, she’s quite nice really.”

  “I’ll take yuh word for it.”

  As he started the ignition, I took the opportunity to consider him further. His short, thick dreads stuck out all over his head, giving him a dishevelled look, but his face, complimented by a Roman nose, blemish-free smooth brown skin and full lips, was very handsome. He’d look much better without the stubble, though.

  Now I’ve been known to fantasise about being with particular men, but that was usually after I’d been out on a few dates with them already and sex was in the cards. I found myself feeling quite self-conscious as I sat next to this man whom I was already imagining having sex with. It was unbelievable. Besides the fact he was probably quite capable of crushing me, I didn’t even know him. Yet I could practically feel his strong hands caressing my body, manipulating me into the position he wanted in order to consider every inch of my skin.

  I wondered whether he would be tender or quite rough but—as it was my fantasy—decided that he would be a bit of both, starting off gently before gaining pace and fucking me hard. I bet, like many black men, he liked a good-sized bottom, and I pictured myself on all fours in front of him, my cheeks in the air, my thighs parted, ready and waiting. He might even be a bit of a tease, holding himself back until I was begging for him to enter me. But even though he was rock-hard, he would summon some willpower from somewhere and merely rub his glans over my clit, feeling that I was dripping wet. I’d push my hips back eagerly and he’d finally grip my waist as he slowly guided his cock inside me, sighing loudly. The delicious feeling of his girth pa
rting my lips would make me moan and throw my head back, causing him to slide his hands up my back before running his fingers through my hair, holding onto it as he slowly withdrew his cock until only the tip was inside me. He would make me wait, he would remain in that position for several long seconds before suddenly plunging his cock deep inside me, making me cry out as I felt his balls smack my pussy lips.

  As he continued to hold my head back, he would lean over me and I would crane my neck to kiss him hungrily, eager to feel his lips on mine, to taste his mouth, to suck his tongue. I would be completely under his spell and he would be the first to pull away, leaving me hanging, not wanting the kiss to end. But he wouldn’t give me a chance to protest before resuming fucking me, his long, slow strokes quickly turning into hard thrusts. He’d lean forward to rub my clit as he pounded harder and faster, his grunts drowned out by my increasingly loud moans…

  “Yuh happy wearin’ shorts?”

  Before speaking, he had already turned the mini-bus around in the small area at the top of Hungry Hill in order to go back down the narrow gap, but stopped to comment on my attire.

  “Yes, why?” I replied quickly, feeling rather embarrassed, as if he could somehow read my thoughts and could tell that there was a distinct dampness developing between my thighs.

  “Dem mosquito an’ beasts gwine eat yuh alive,” he informed me, fixing me with his soulful, nearly black eyes.

  “But you’re wearing shorts too,” I retorted, looking down at his own khaki cut-off combats. Despite the length of them, they had managed to ride up when he got behind the wheel and I got a glimpse of the firm thigh beneath. I instantly—and very vividly—imagined my fingers running along his smooth skin on my way to discovering how big he was. I could quite happily picture myself massaging my hands up from his bulging calf all the way to his thighs. I’d switch to using my tongue as soon as I got high enough.

  “Yeah, but mi skin t’ick like elephant own and dey like new blood…sweet like nectar.”

  “I’ll be alright.”

  “Yuh sure? Dem bite gwine mark up yuh pretty skin.”

  Conscious of all the people in the back waiting to go on a hike in order to collect photos that wouldn’t get looked at, I assured him that I’d be fine and felt relieved that I had put some insect repellent in my bag. I didn’t know what to think about the fact that he was checking out my legs or that he said I had pretty skin.

  Despite the bad condition of the roads and the many hairpin bends, he drove fast and the wind whipped through all the open windows, creating an atmosphere that wasn’t as stifling as I would have expected. Between the wind and the old school reggae that he only turned down slightly, we had to speak loudly to maintain a conversation.

  “Jeanette yuh name?”

  When he hadn’t said anything in a while I’d assumed he was concentrating on the road, so was glad when he spoke as everybody else on the trip seemed to be part of a couple. Despite knowing that I’d probably feel a bit self-conscious after that fantasy, I preferred not to spend the trip on my own and, anyway, logically, I knew he had no idea what I’d been thinking.

  “That’s right, what’s your name?”

  “Mi call Wileman.”

  “Wildman?”

  I knew that everyone I ever came across in Grenada had a tag name, which usually had something to do with their personality or an event in their life, but this one was unusual. It served to cement the idea in my mind that he was obviously a wild man in bed. No doubt he had women all over the island clamouring after him to experience the immense amount of stamina he looked like he possessed.

  “Yeah, cos mi like bein’ out in da bush, bein’ wid nature.” He smiled, flashing those teeth again.

  “Okay.”

  “Plus, yuh don’ think mi look wile?”

  He ran his fingers through his dreads, grinning mischievously as I smiled back at him.

  “Wha’ part a Englan’ yuh come from?”

  “London.”

  He nodded knowingly. “Mi only been to sout’ London.”

  “Really? Which part?”

  “Brixton.”

  “Oh, I live quite near there…in Wandsworth.”

  He just nodded again, lapsing into silence as he beeped for the umpteenth time before taking another bend.

  “Jus’ a holiday yuh come for?”

  I turned to consider his face before replying as I was sure he already knew the answer. News tended to spread across the island like a fire in a paper factory. But he just looked ahead, his bulbous bottom lip protruding slightly as he waited for me to speak. I would have liked to have leaned across and kissed it before gently sucking it into my mouth.

  “Yeah, I just thought I needed a break.”

  “Mmm hmm.” He fell silent again, allowing the chatter from the back of the vehicle to drift to the front.

  I sat wondering what he would normally be doing on one of these trips. Would he be chatting to everyone in the back? Would he be singing along to a reggae tune? Would he have some other lone woman sitting next to him thinking about him much like I was? Would he be making advances? Who knew?

  It was a gorgeous day, the cloudless sky was an amazing azure blue and I was having a mini-adventure. I only hoped it wasn’t going to be too strenuous. I knew my limitations.

  After another twenty minutes of driving and ten minutes of walking, I was quite pleased to find that I wasn’t as useless as I thought. We travelled in convoy, me powering ahead and Wildman bringing up the rear. I was amazed that within the short time the group of twelve people had been travelling, a few people had already started moaning about the heat of the dense rainforest.

  The wife of one of my fellow adventurers was the worst culprit. Apparently sick of listening to her, he soon joined me at the head of the group, speaking to me in his soft, southern drawl.

  “Wow, you’ve got so much energy, are you a runner?”

  With that slow, syrupy accent, I was expecting a big broad JR Ewing type. But what I got was a skinny, rather nerdy looking white man.

  I laughed at the assertion. “No, I can barely run for a bus.”

  “Well you look really powerful.”

  Never having been told I looked powerful before, I was surprised but appreciative. I thanked him for the compliment before we exchanged pleasantries as we walked in the humid shade of the tall trees.

  I didn’t get the chance to discover much about the genial American before Wildman’s deep voice interrupted our conversation.

  “Ai yo!”

  The sticky heat had become too much for some of our number—lightweights—and a rest was required to enable them to recover. Those who were the most overcome sat under a tree, resting their backs against the thick trunk as they guzzled down water before resuming their complaints about the heat. Others milled around, looking up into trees to try to spot the birds that were producing the continuous song that seemed to follow us wherever we went.

  I stood alone, having been abandoned by my new friend for the sake of checking on the condition of his wife, and wiped some sweat from my face with a flannel before taking a swig of water from the bottle I took from my bag.

  “Yuh don’ wan’ sit down and res’?”

  I nearly dropped the bottle and succeeded in dribbling some water down my chin and almost choking.

  “Sorry.” He smiled as he lightly patted my back, obviously amused by my coughing fit. “Mi nah mean fe scare yuh.”

  “It’s alright,” I replied when finally able to speak, wiping my mouth and wondering how many more times I was going to embarrass myself in front of this man. I wondered what we would be doing at that moment if we had been alone. I’m not sure I would have been able to resist him even if he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t standard behaviour for me to make a pass at a man when I had no idea whether he liked me or not, but I would make an exception for him. I would unashamedly fling myself at him and press against his chest until his arms folded around me.

  Towering over me,
he silently stood for a moment, smiling broadly.

  “Yuh enjoyin’ it so far?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Yuh nah ’fraid?”

  “What should I be afraid of?”

  “Sometime woman does be ‘fraid a snakes an’ lickle creatures dere about. But yuh real brave.”

  In order to look like the brave woman he thought I was, I smiled modestly and scanned the leaf-covered ground for any movement the instant he walked away.

  Chapter Two

  Though I was on the alert for the rest of the day, I didn’t see any snakes. There were birds, lizards, monkeys, all sorts of creatures…but no snakes. Thankfully.

  There were many more rest stops, some of which I was grateful for because after only about thirty minutes I started to flag. Wildman didn’t seem to tire, he was clearly as strong as he looked. The defined muscles of his calves and arms rippling with every movement, he even carried the bag of some lazy tourist when the man began complaining that he was unable to go on. I now had no doubt about the power behind that body. He would keep me up all night and still be able to leave me begging for mercy.

  In all it was a pretty good day, and I was glad I hadn’t chickened out as I’d thought about doing several times. As we made our way back to the mini-bus I was tired, hot and sweaty, but satisfied that I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself and didn’t feel as if I needed an oxygen tank. That would be embarrassing at the best of times, but I definitely didn’t want Wildman to see me struggling. He probably already thought I was a pathetic City girl who couldn’t take the pace. It was inexplicable that I was seemingly incapable of thinking of anything else but him. Maybe it was the heat.

  “Yuh enjoy yourself?”

  “Yes, thanks, it was really interesting. Nice to see a part of the island that I haven’t been to before.” I happily took credit for Aunt Yvonne’s idea rather than give a lame response.