Alfonso

One of the great things that I like to do on vacation is catch up on my reading.

If you're anything like me, you're just so pooped at the end of a working day that you never feel like sitting down for a couple of hours with a book, no matter how good the reviews were.

So even though, like all regular travellers, I've gradually learned to cut down on excessive luggage, much of the space created gets taken up by a pile of best-sellers that everyone says you've gotta read.

The latest Michael Crichton, that Thomas Harris that you never got around to first time and even - just for a laugh, you tell yourself - a dog-eared Jackie Collins that you thought you'd thrown out years ago.

But there's one particular well-thumbed book that I never travel without.

My gay guide.

I always like to seek out the local gay scene wherever I go - and even in the most unpromising places (Namibia? Mongolia?) that guide's never let me down yet.

And it was through the guide that I stumbled on my current favorite destination.

The West Indies.

A lot of the islands, it's true, have a reputation for being less than welcoming to gay men.

But one of them's also the site of one of the world's most luxurious - if not downright sybaritic - gay resort complexes.

In our exotically landscaped private tropical retreat, let our houseboys pamper you and cater to your every whim, says the brochure.

And they couldn't be more right.

Of course, like you'd guess, it's not cheap.

But, when you work hard like I do, it's not too difficult to convince yourself that you need all the pampering (much of it, of course, of an extremely personal nature) that the houseboys - not to mention assorted reception staff, waiters, sports coaches and gardeners - can offer.

One day too, I've convinced myself, I'll even treat myself to the Presidential Suite.

I got a glance inside once and it's like something a particularly debauched Roman emperor would have designed for himself - and, more to the point, permanently staffed by the most handsome corps of personal attendants that you've ever seen in your life.

But for now, with the Presidential Suite way out of my price range, it'll have to be the resort's standard package - though I'm happy to say that I've never been anywhere where the word standard is less applicable to the packages on offer in my life.

He wasn't stupid.

I guessed that he'd probably gone for quite a few relaxing walks in the grounds with guests before - and that, on the whole, they'd probably got little further than 50 metres to the nearest secluded glade and had been anything but relaxing.

And, sure enough, after only a few minutes walking we did find ourselves in a very lush, inviting and quiet part of the estate.

As we paused to take in the surroundings, Alfonso looked across at me, his obviously inviting face transformed from its previous broad open smile.

God, he looked so darned hot, even though all his clothes were still on!

They weren't, however, to remain so for long.

First he took off his shirt…

And then, having worked me up by putting on a little show of rubbing his hands all over his upper body, he slid his pants down over his thighs… Live sex shows with different models from all over the world! We have Blonde girls, Ebony models Chat for [URL=http://en.livesex-888.com]Sex Cams[/URL] FREE and Watch HD Live porn webcam shows! 5000+ Models are waiting for You. From porn stars to amateurs to fetish models, our cam girls are always ready to play. Enjoy a Private Show with your dream girl now! Adult sex web cam shows on mobile is a great way to plunge into a whirlwind of passion with

Of course, those cute boxer shorts didn't stay on for very long at all.

Alfonso, it seemed, was very keen on his work and exceptionally eager to please - in any way a guest required…

And, very thoughtfully, he'd even brought along a little liquid refreshment…

As you may have gathered, I was very taken with (not to mention by) Alfonso.

And, as we wandered back to the beach, I asked him how I could find him easily again.

"That's no problem", he said.

"Try the Presidential Suite."

That explained it, then.

Alfonso was obviously among the crème de la crème of the houseboys, the ones specially selected to wait attendance on the most well-heeled guests.

Presumably he'd just been slumming it on the beach that afternoon.

I must have looked disappointed.

But he quickly reassured me and brought a wide smile back to my face.

"There really isn't a problem, y'know.

"For Crissakes, I'm paying enough money for that darned Presidential Suite and, like any other guest at this place, I guess I'm allowed to have any visitors I choose."

It was on my last visit that I met Alfonso.

He was strolling on the beach, just like many of the staff spend much of their time doing.

That might sound a pretty easy job, but what you've got to realise is that they're under permanent orders to do everything possible to make our stay enjoyable. So at any time on the beach they might be called over for a chat, to join you for a swim, to rub your back with oil or even to get more intimately acquainted with you in the dunes or back in your suite.

When I beckoned Alfonso over and suggested that I'd like a little company for a relaxing walk in the grounds, he gave a broad smile.