I sleptslept withwith the tour guide from my GetYourGuideGetYourGuide activity
I went on an island hopping tour from Zadar and slept with the Captain on the second island.
I just want to preface and say I wasn’t planning on this happening, but you know how it is when you’re traveling… the thought of being far away from your hometown, never meeting certain people again… it activates this rush to be spontaneous.
And I definitely got my value for money.
I’m single, it’s summer and I’m in Europe. The world is my oyster. I’m staying in hostels, chatting with everyone in my bunk trying to find somebody to go on this boat tour with me, but they’re all busy. I’m half tempted to cancel. I can’t go on a boat tour alone, I’ll look like a loser.
I also can’t stay in my bed all day waiting for someone to agree to go with me.
I spent far too much money to be sulking in a top bunk all day on a mattress that feels like it’s made of bones.
So I book the boat.
I change into this chrome-gold bikini that ties up at the back, grease back my hair into a high bun (I haven’t washed it in days) and lather my tan-lined skin in suncream before leaving the hostel.
The ocean is flat, has no wave whatsoever to it, so the boats sit stationary in the dock and glints a pretty white in the sunlight. It’s a small boat, the one I’ve booked onto, and only holds a capacity of eight people.
Intimate.
When it pulls into the dock, my stomach flips. The captain. He’s tanned and an unbuttoned linen shirt flaps around his toned body in the wind. His hair does the same, curling back from his face in this brunette tangle of perfection, and covering his eyes are an oval pair of sunglasses to shield his probably, very attractive eyes from the sun.
Suddenly conscious that my mouth’s falling open, I snap it shut as he reverse parks his boat into the dock.
How many good looking people do you know that can reverse park a fucking boat?
Cigarette clamped between his lips, he looks over his shoulder with a creased brow bone as he slots the boat into a space between two others.
He takes my bag (and my hand) as I step on.
“Welcome miss.” His lips curl into a smile.
“Hvala.”
I’m the only solo passenger on the boat but the couple seated next to me and the family opposite all include me in their conversations. We leave the dock and the wind picks up, and before I know it we’re speeding through the Adriatic sea popping champagne on route to island number one.
Only he anchors a stone’s throw away from the shore.
“Only island locals are allowed to anchor their boats at the shore,” he says in his thick Croatian accent. He lifts the glasses from his eyes. Squints in the sun. “You need to swim to get on the island.”
I remove my clothes and dive into the water, deciding not to check out the first island because one, apparently its rocks are laced with sea urchins, and two, I’m pretty sure I’ll be entering a nudist beach if I step foot onto it.
Feeling the need to avert my eyes, I lay on my back and float with the waves. The water here is so blue, so vibrant it looks photoshopped.
My ears have just acclimatised to the gentle sloshing of water against the boat when a loud splash fills the air followed by a spray of water. I squint, rinse my eyes and turn to see-
“You looked like you were about to drift off to sleep there.”
I survey my surroundings. It’s just me, him and his boat.
Everybody else has made it to the island.
“It’s peaceful.”
He starts treading water. “What’s your name?”
“Cas.”
He squints a smile. “I’m Jakov.”
We share some small talk. I talk about solo travel, about my life and work back home, and he talks about Olib, the small Croatian island he was born and still lives on. Twenty five, he is, and sixteen was the age he was when he first learned to steer a boat. He’s good at holding eye contact, maintains it even when there’s a break in conversation. His eyes, a rich hazel colour, hold inside of them this curious look that seems to strengthen as the conversation deepens. It doesn’t make sense because the conversation is light, very surface level, but from the look in his eye anyone would think we’re breaking down complex, philosophical theories.
He climbs back onto the boat and offers me his hand. The couple and family make their way back, Jakov reels back the anchor and we’re motoring across the sea again, sipping champagne and basking in warm, Balkan breeze.
This time I’m less interested in the colour of the sea and more so in Jakov. I’m not a smoker so naturally would never go for somebody that does, but for him I’d be happy to lower my boundaries. He steers the boat with one hand, and with the other, rolls up a cigarette that he vices between his lips and lights up. I drop the sunglasses back onto my nose, arousal beginning to form between my legs at just the sight of this man. Smoke threading from the cigarette end. Hair flying. The unbuttoned shirt rippling open in the wind revealing column after column of chiseled torso.
I thank myself in this moment for not pussying out on the boat tour because the level of excitement I feel fizzing through me is unmatched.
Jakov anchors up at the next island, again a stone’s throw away. This one looks more inviting, quiet, and swaying pine trees line the shore instead of nude people.
“Sea urchins again people. Make sure you stay clear of the rocks.”
Pity, and Jakov must see the hesitation on my face because when he’s done with his announcement, he strides over to me and searches each of my eyes. “You scared?”
I scoff an unconvincing no.
“We can go together. You sit on my shoulders.”
Which is exactly what happens.
He’s a good swimmer, something I wouldn’t expect any less from for someone that lives on an island. I straddle his head, legs draping down his shoulders. His hands clamp over them to keep me in place as he swims vertically (?) to the island.
When we arrive he lets me go.
Blue sea sloshes around the rocky shore and pine trees sway. There’s something about the combined smell of sea salt and wood that’s so warming to the senses.
“Here.” Jakov offers me his hand. “Follow me.”
I take it.
A shiver runs down my spine settling at the top of my ass, of which I want him to slap.
Hard.
The island is small, a pebbled walkway spiralling around its circumference. We walk around it for a time before dipping away into the forest. Really, when the captain of a boat leads you astray into the trees of some random island, you shouldn’t follow, but desire obscured my judgment.
I had no choice in the matter.
We slow our walk to manoeuvre around the shrubbery. Birdsong is loud and the sloshing waves fade away into the distance. My awareness is heightened. Suddenly it occurs to me that it’s just me and him on an island I don’t know the name of.
Adrenaline has me pushing him up against the tree.
Our mouths collide.
His tongue tastes of prosecco and pineapple.
Already I’m burning for him.
Primal sex with the captain of the boat you’re island hopping on.
Now that’s what I call a holiday.
He traces the tie of my bikini top with a tanned finger. “I want to rip this thing off you.”
“Not rip… maybe untie.”
He wrestles with the knot. Slips the material from me and grabs my breasts and begins palming. Tweaking the nipples.
Arousal floods through me. It has my back arching. I drive my hips into him as undulations of desire ripple through me thicker than waves during a storm.
The tweeting birds remind me of our location and honestly, if it wasn’t for them, I’d be convinced I was flying in a vacuum, oxygen and gravity non existent.
Then he’s pinning me against a tree, grabbing me by the wrists and holding them above my head like I’m Jesus on a fucking cross minus the pins.
He drives his hips into me.
Trails kisses down my neck.
The valley of my breasts.
My torso.
His hands loosen the ties of my bikini panties.
I’m naked now.
I break the kiss and gesture with my head to his crotch which… just by sight looks very impressive. “We should hurry.”
“You think?”
“I do. The rest of them will be waiting for us.”
So he undoes his trousers.
Inserts two fingers up inside of me.
And replaces them with his dick.
He fills me up and I part around him.
“Fuck,” he moans between breaths. “You feel so good.” He hoists me up, spreads my legs so they’re wrapped around him, and drives deeper.
And deeper.
And-
A gasp escapes my lips when he hits home.
He’s started a fire inside of me.
He pauses the thrusting to look into my eyes for a moment. “I want to see your face when you finish.”
“You like that?”
“Yeah.”
So I force my eyes open.
My head knocks against the tree.
The treetops blur and form this one, oblong image of green as he hits the spot inside of me over and over.
The birdsong disappears.
The rustling trees.
All that remains is our heaving breaths.
Our impending orgasms.
We come simultaneously staring into one another’s eyes. It makes the experience all the more intense, finishing with eye contact. I’ve never done it before, mainly because my ex partners, no shade to them, hadn’t been blessed with the most aesthetically-pleasing features. Jakov on the other hand… my body’s already ready for round two with him.
“We should get back.” He bends down to tie my bikini back around me. “Before I get my first shit rating on GetYourGuide for going AWOL half way through the tour.”
“I’ll give you a five star rating.”
“And I’ll give you a six.” He flashes me a wink
And with that I’m on his shoulders again as he wades us back towards a boat full of people watching with very sneaking suspicion.