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A Day at Hapuna Beach by Bigg-G The sand is white and soft so soft. Every step taken leaves an imprint, Through my mind. Wind blows of flowers and sea Waves slowly breaking, Leaving a foam filled ocean The sky is as blue as a sapphire, Only the sun disturbs its perfection I sit on the beach gazing out into the ocean, By the sun's reflection on the clear water, I am blinded Into the indulgent sand I burrow my feet Feeling the sand form between my toes I lean my head onto your shoulder With your every heartbeat, I listen Wind blows across my face With one gentle touch of your hand, You swipe the stray hair from my face The intent look in your eyes hypnotize me Yet again the wind blows And sweeps us into our own private world Tranquility flows over me like a wave in the ocean The coolness of the ocean air, The warmth of your body against mine Creates a state of serenity around us On Hapuna Beach I am with you, Just me and you. DgsII©, 2006...

Island Escape by Bigg-G “Why don’t you head on down to the beach, Hon? I need to run back to the room,” Jean stated as they finished lunch. “Okay, I’ll be down by that row of palm trees.” Jean nearly raced back to their room. This was a moment that she had been preparing for. Today was the third day of their second honeymoon. Even though they had been married and she was now a mother, 18 year old Monique was staying with her mother for the week, she wanted to let Gerald know that she could still be just as much fun to be around as she had been when she was 22. Once back to the room, she quickly opened her suitcase and pulled out her prized possession. She had seen it in a novelty catalog and had even had it sent to a P.O. box so there’d be no chance of Gerald’s seeing it before now. Jean undressed and slipped on the swimsuit. Then she walked over to the full-length mirror. Perfect. Definitely “Fun Girl.” The suit was an exact replica of a bottle of Budweiser. Even though he wasn’t a heavy drinker, just a few times a year, he would get a kick out of this suit. Gerald sat on the beach and looked out over the Caribbean. This was a great escape from work and home. Though he loved his daughter, he was really enjoying spending a few days alone with Jean. As his gaze swept back across the beach, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There was an incredible looking woman walking his way in a Budweiser one-piece. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Several guys were staring and one even whistled as she walked by. Jean stopped at the pool bar and grabbed a bottle of Red Stripe; though it wasn’t Bud, it was the only brew available on the island. Then she continued on to Gerald’s spot on the beach. “How about a cold one, mister?” “Sure!” Jean handed Gerald the bottle and sat down in his lap. They didn’t say much as they topped off the bottle. Then she got up and pulled him to his feet. Letting go, she ran off into the water. Gerald tossed off his shirt and chased after her. She dove under and continued swimming out to the floating dock a ways from shore. Eventually Gerald got there as well and pulled himself up on the dock. They lay there sunning themselves for quite a while. “I’m getting thirsty, want to swim back to the pool bar, partner?” Gerald didn’t answer her; he just dove off the dock and began swimming back. Jean followed close behind. Upon reaching the beach, they joined other couples in lounging by the pool, sipping fruity island drinks and enjoying the reggae music coming over the speakers. At three, a band set up for the evening show and began practicing. Several couples got up to dance and Jean and Gerald joined in. They were all grooving to the beat and having a great time. They even did a conga line, with Jean and her party suit in the front. She was receiving a lot of appraising looks from other guests and a few members of the band. She wasn’t usually this outgoing, but the combination of being away from home, the sun, and the drinks was have just the effect that she had hoped for. Soon, Gerald was dancing very close to her. She could tell that he was having a great time. Pulling her very tight to him, he whispered in her ear, “Do you know what the only thing better than you in that suit is?” “No, tell me.” “You out of that suit!” With that Jean turned around in his arms and started congaing out of the pool area. Gerald had his hands on her waist and a huge smile on his face. Jean never stopped swaying her hips as they worked their way through the lobby and up the stairs to their door. Gerald managed to get the room key out of his pocket and they danced into the room. She worked her way over to the bed and sat him down on it. Kneeling in front of him, she kissed him and fondled his neck, chest, and back. She slowly worked her kisses down his face and neck to his chest. She stopped and sucked lustily on each nipple. All the while working her hands lower. Meantime he had his hands on her shoulders and was trying to lower her straps. Once she reached his navel, she stopped and pushed him back onto his back. Standing up, she crawled up over him and straddled his chest. Placing her hands over his she helped him slide her suit down over her breasts. Then she helped him fondle her, while leaning over enough for more of his wondrous kisses. Slipping out of his grasp, she rolled over to one side and reached for the waistband of his trunks. He assisted in removing them, and then she continued her exploration of his body with her mouth. She moved down one leg and then headed back up the other. Upon reaching his genitals, she worked his penis into her mouth and licked and sucked gently until it was very hard. She could hear him starting to moan and knew she needed to move on, in order to keep things exciting. Slowly slipping off of him, she reached for his hand and placed it on her suit over the genitals. She couldn’t tell if it was from the earlier swim or not, but the crotch of the suit was wet. Gerald took a hold of the suit around her waist and worked it down her thighs and off. Then starting at her neck he kissed his way down her body, stopping for an excruciatingly long time on each breast and nipple. Finally, he continued. Reaching the toes of one foot, he then licked his way up the other leg, over the knee and up her thigh until he was kissing and licking her outer vaginal lips. Janet loved when he did this. He worked on those for a little while, then he would slip his tongue down inside. Soon she was breathing heavily and sighing. Mark licked and sucked a little harder every so often for a few moments. Suddenly he thrust a finger inside as well and she just about burst with pleasure. He was moving the finger around in a circular pattern and she was on the verge of coming. Gerald slipped out of his position and lay down next to her. He rolled her over on top of him and she straddled his penis, letting it slip inside her, by now, very moist vagina. She moved up and down on him and he kept his hands on her hips, just like earlier when they had been in the conga line, though this was sooo!! much better than conga dancing. Gaining a faster rhythm, Janet began to come. She pushed down harder with each stroke and finally let out a sharp cry. Slowing her rhythm down and eventually stopping completely, she laid out flat on Mark. He took her in his arms and rolled her over on her back. Then, he worked his way between her legs again and continued stroking her while she wrapped both her arms and legs around him very tightly. Finally, he came as well and they just lay together in each other’s arms for a long time. “I’ll never forget this afternoon,” he said at last. “I know.” For that was what Jean had been planning all along. DgsII©, 2006...

Blueprint of a Woman by Bigg-G A cool quiet evening, let the music play and I'm thinking of a vision, and now I'm on my way, on my way to a fantasy, to complete a living dream. A blueprint of a woman, my passion turned extreme. When I look into her eyes, so clear, so deep, so true, whether brown or green, hazel or blue. The emotion, the expression that I want to feel and see, as she looks right back into my eyes and steals my heart from me. Her face is simply beautiful; it is a pleasure for all to see. It is a portrait hidden in my dreams when she is away from me. Her smile can brighten up a room or simply make my day. Her heart makes you believe in love, and for her love you'll always pray. When she talks to me, I'm captivated by every word she speaks. When she smiles at me and holds my hand, I feel my knees get weak. When she walks, she glides; her motion is nothing short of poetry. It says, I'm sensual, a woman, a lady, classy, pure, honest, loyal, complete. If I could build, dream, create, or draw a woman on a print that was blue, you would find that my blueprint of a woman would be someone just like you. DgsII©, 2006...

A Scent of A Woman by Bigg-G We started out slow afraid to fall It all started when I received your call All the feelings that went through my head Never thought I would have you in bed The scent of a woman is something sweet The one thing that nothing can beat Our first date was to the fireman's dance Never thought it would lead to this romance But the scent of a woman is something so sweet Guess you just swept me off of my feet Now it's getting hard to say good night I know its not right but god damn I want to stay the night The scent of you drives me wild and always will It knocks me out faster than a sleeping pill Then I start dreaming about that perfect morning When I wake up next to the scent of a woman DgsII©, 2006...

This is the first story I ever wrote!!! The Memory By Bigg-G Here is the story that most men know but few men will tell. It is the story about the ghosts of past lovers and how they haunt your heart. The story begins in adolescence when a boy carries with him a fantasy about the perfect lover. She is shrouded in mystery and beauty-not at all a real woman with hopes, worries, and cares of daily life. In fact, she contains few details at all. She is an evocation, a dream, and a perfume to the spirit. This woman of mystery lives somewhere deep in his fantasy, until one day he believes he has found her the woman of his dreams. She is everything he ever wanted. He pursues her, she responds, and he is alive like never before. Every waking moment is spent dreaming of her. Every moment away from her is agony. When he is with her he looks into her eyes and wants to cry with joy at the incredible good fortune that has brought this beauty into his life. He wants to touch her. Eventually he does. His body aches for her. He wants to give himself to her, to take her, to know her, to love her. They struggle with the decision, spending long nights of agonized discussion and desperate groupings. Finally, they make love. They lose themselves for hours, days. They are adrift on a sea of pure, heedless passion. Slowly, this passion cools. They begin to spend their ordinary hours together. She becomes more of a person and less of a dream. She has needs. She gets angry and has habits. He irritates her; she irritates him. Their sexual hunger falls out of balance. He finds his mind drifting, or he feels her turning inward even as her body pretends to be one with his. Out of the corner of his eye he begins to notice other women. They seem more attractive. Their laugh has more song in it. They are closer to the dream. The woman he once thought would fill his life seems empty and ordinary. Soon there is nothing left but the lovemaking. Their passion is hollow. They are together in body but absent in spirit. There are tears and fights and long goodbyes. There are promises that? Maybe someday? And gentle claims that? If it is meant to be, it will be. Eventually, they part. Their hearts are wounded and their emotions rage. Sadness smothers the one who was left. Guilt, relief, anger, and self-hatred swirl around the one who did the leaving. Time passes. The wounds are less. Another woman comes along. The dance begins again. Soon they are in each other’s arms. It is both harder and easier this time. He looks in her eyes. She is beautiful. But far down, where only the heart can see, is another image. It is the woman he first loved, the woman who came before. He loses himself in passion. They become one in that magical way that is the gift of lovemaking. But the image is not gone. It haunts like an echo. She is there: the ghost of the past lover. The dance continues. Woman after woman after woman, each one different, each one like a new springtime. He finds parts of himself he never knew existed. He feels love in ways his heart and body never imagined. But every time, he hears the echoes. No matter how he gives himself, no matter how strong his love, his bed is filled with ghosts of former lovers. And with each woman, there are more ghosts. He cannot say it, even to himself, but his heart is less than it was. The wounds have turned to scars and the joys of past passions have taken root in the hidden corners of his memory. His love, no matter how pure, is filled with echoes. He begins to understand a truth, at once terrible and beautiful. He begins to see that the women he has loved are not memories, they are presences. Making love to them has made them alive in his heart forever. He begins to realize that all of those loves-the one-night stands, the deep yearning passions-were little marriages, eternal unions, each establishing a claim that cannot be denied. He knows that there has been a price for the love he has given. His love is no longer pure. The memory of every lover shares his bed, and will forever more. And so, be careful with your love. Do not give it casually. Take the risks you must to find the love you must. But remember that each love is a marriage and each will be part of you forever. Each decreases by the smallest amount, your capacity to give yourself totally to another, because each one fills a small space in your heart that can never be occupied by another. Choose carefully and tenderly. Touch has a memory of its own. DgsII©, 1989...