On one occasion, I was assigned a complimentary bungalow for a couple of days at a luxury hotel on a hill above Hanalei Bay, the garden spot of Kauai, where film crews were always making movies. I had requested one with a view of a long, crescent-shaped, white beach bordered by royal palms against a backdrop of the towering Na Pali cliffs.

I also drew a hot Hawaiian dude named Bobby to drive me to it in a golf cart and carry my bag into the room. He was a nut brown, part-Hawaiian, part-Portuguese guy, 19 years old, with a strong build stacked on a short frame. His drop-dead smile won me right away. In the relaxed Hawaiian style, he was wearing only sandals and mini-shorts and a snowy tee-shirt with the hotel logo emblazoned on his full chest. I liked everything I saw, but mostly the bulge at the crotch.

When he asked if I wanted a woman for the night and told me he "ran" girls on the side, I said, "Fuck, no! You got what I like. Women I don't need."

He blushed. "Uh...I can't do that, sir, but I can give you a massage in about an hour."

I took a shower while he was gone, and when he came back with a massage table an hour later, I met him with a towel around my waist. I slapped my gut. "Maybe you work over this paunch, little guy. I'd like to trim it down." I dropped the towel.

He blushed as he had before, and turned his eyes away from my dick as he set up the table. Still looking anywhere but at my crotch, he motioned me on to the table, and I settled down on my back and felt a thrill when his smooth, lotioned palms touched my chest.

Oh, did that feel good! Firm, pressured strokes from my throat to my belly made me tingle all over. I kept my eyes on his face and almost willed him to look into mine. I maintained a steady stream of patter, determined to make him relax a bit with me. I could tell he was just a little scared.

"You got a girl?" I asked.

"Sure!" he answered with a brightness that made it clear he was worried I was going to ask him something else. "She's a beauty!"

"You gonna marry her?"

"Not yet!" he laughed. "Hell, I'm too young. I gotta play the field!"

Distracted from his concern that I might make a move on him, he chattered on about his lady and started then to talk about his life. For my part, I figured there was no way I was going to get him, and listened to him prattle on. I became aware after awhile that his warm hands were rubbing my thighs, and his conversation had turned to his dad.

"My father died five years ago when I was fourteen," he was saying. "He's the one taught me to give a massage. Told me that if I couldn't get much education, I could always make it like this with my hands."

His fingertips massaged me gently above the knees on my inner thighs. I felt the heat from them. He had a good technique.

"Your dad was right," I said. "You've got the magic touch. I get regular Shiatsu massages in Japan. Never had better than this."

One of his hands lifted to a place at the side of my neck while the other remained near my knee. "Pressure points," he said, "are the places he taught me to aim for. Here at the neck and here just a little farther up your thigh, both at the same time is very relaxing."

His movements were so rhythmical it seemed as if he were counting my pulse. "Nice," I murmured, closing my eyes and giving myself over to the erotic sensations he evoked in my flesh. His voice became soothing, his tone subtly changed.

"My father said I had a way with these fingers like no one he ever knew, and he was taught by the best when he was in the service in Japan. You kinda look like him, sir, I mean even though you're what we call a haole here."

"A white man," I murmured, half asleep. "Yeah, white is what I am."

He went on. "I loved my dad. He was really good to me. I was the only boy in a family of nine girls. I had to drop out of school and work my ass off to help them when he died. I guess they expect a lot of me, and I'll have to marry and carry on our name."

His voice became a drone in my fading consciousness. The pressures he applied seemed to strike at my nerve centers and calm the inner recesses of my mind. I was floating, but still I heard that voice.

"That's why I can't do some of the things I want to do. I don't know anybody who would understand, except my dad would have. We were very close. I used to do this for him. My mom was always sick. Worn out from having babies I guess. He worked all the time. Had no other way to relax."