A few years ago, I went to Hawaii for my friend, Maria’s* wedding—and not because I’d always had a crush on her boy bestie, Derek*, and hoped he would be there. That said, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t thinking about it as I popped my RSVP in the mail..
.and again a few months later as I packed my bag, cradling my between my fingers and envisioning him taking it off of me. I closed my eyes and imagined Derek lifting up the long, breezy skirt, as the sun set beyond the shore, my toes buried in the sand and his face buried in my pussy.
I’m now convinced that I’m psychic, because—major spoilers ahead—that is almost what happened. Derek was a short king—funny and charming, with the face of Matt Damon. He had olive-green eyes, freckles, tousled brown hair, and perfectly straight white teeth.
He was a , which I also found very sexy. He and I had always had a vibe when we’d hang, but we never connected on a deep level. This trip was my chance.
I mean, what are weddings if not the ultimate place to find love (or something like it)? Drinks are flowing, the vibes are good, and people’s eyes and hearts are open and looking for romance. And eyes were set on Derek. The wedding day was beautiful.
Maria looked gorgeous as she walked down the aisle, which was less of an aisle and more of a perfectly landscaped pathway tucked under a canopy of eucalyptus and mango trees. It was the epitome of a Hawaii wedding—chill vibes, mai tais, and leis around every neck. (I.
