The honeymoon was a financial splurge. Long-planned, we flew to Barbados to one of the luxury hotels, one that had a reputation for housing international celebrities and the amenities were all geared to that level. Well-heeled paying guests. And us, the newlyweds.

On the first afternoon of arrival, we parked on the beautiful sandy beach outside our hotel, with the wonderful clear waters of the Caribbean, so clean and clear that you could see your toes when you were standing in water at neck level. My bride was in her most flattering bikini, and I felt sort of territorial when I knew others were checking her out. I was in a tight Speedo that I knew flattered my masculinity and showed off my endowment. We caused a bit of stir on the beach and people noticed us. But later that afternoon, another couple arrived on the beach. They caused all heads to really turn.

She was tall and slim, and walked with that graceful twisting stride of a runway model. (That was no surprise, since it turned out that she WAS a runway model in Manhattan.) Her swimsuit was ultra revealing of her slim and flowing curvaceous body, her sunglasses were artfully perched on her high cheek-boned face, and her straw hat was the kind that you normally only saw in fashion magazines. Her new husband was brawny and muscular, with rough-hewn features, wide bodybuilder type shoulders, beefy biceps, dark hairy fuzz that covered his muscular chest, a dark tan…and a treasure trail that led enticingly down to the low-slung top of his bikini swimwear.

His bikini was extra-special. Later, we learned that she had actually crocheted the bikini for him. It fit him in a low-hip-slung manner, hugging the genitals and barely hiding any private parts. In addition, the crocheted threadwork had many loops and holes in the threaded weave, which revealed little glimpses of the tantalizing fleshy dick and balls. Masculine patches of dark pubic hair curled out of the woven holes. I was mesmerized by the view. Before long, we were all four in conversation, sharing the fact that we were all honeymooners, and exchanging warm cozy chats as though we had been friends for years, instead of just a very few minutes. Everyone seemed to be staring at the four of us, and we were two exceptionally attractive couples. I learned that he was a financial analyst, quite a contrast to her uptown glamour job. And if Colt had ever been looking for male models on Wall Street, they would have no doubt found Derek.

Handsome devil he was, and it was easy on the eye to take in all of his features. Handsome face. Muscular body. Macho appeal. And the hide-and-seek viewing of his cock and balls through the mesh weave of the crocheted bikini was hypnotic for me. I could not keep my eyes off of him, especially his crotch. He seemed to not be paying any attention to my gaping at his physicality, then at some point he seemed to become hyper-aware that his crotch was catching my eye. He then shifted his position to give me direct viewing of his widespread legs. To further tease and taunt me, he put his hands in his crotch to shift and rearrange the goods. When our eyes met, he removed his sunglasses and gave a sly sexy wink and a wide white smile. With that wink,