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Spring Break

(Part 1 from 2)

I knew it was going to be a different Spring Break when I saw the 6'3" 250 lb guy climbing onto the balcony of our second-floor room at the Holiday Inn. My two buddies, Jeff and Rollie, and I were heading out for some food, but I figured we might want to check on the action outside.

The big guy waved at us and proceeded to look up. I headed over, opened the sliding glass door and asked him what was going on.

Big grin. "I'm tryin' to climb to those chicks on the 6th floor."

I looked up. There were indeed girls up there. They waved. I waved back, but had no intention of climbing up balconies.

"Call me Q," said the big guy. "Kev", I replied. "Good luck."

"Thanks." He began to climb again and I went back inside. There was a guy at the door who turned out to be one of Q's friends, wondering what the hell he was up to. They (a total of 5 guys) were in the room just below ours.

We made introductions and proceeded to split for our food. 

Well, we kept running in to each other, and the two groups became party buds in no time, drinking, wenching, and generally being obnoxious together.

Port Isabel and South Padre Island lie only about 30-40 miles from Browns- ville and the border crossing to Matamoros, Mexico. The attraction to Mata- moros was cheap booze, souveniers, and a low legal drinking age. I had booze, was 25, and, having lived in New York all my life, I wanted to explore. But when Wednesday dawned cloudy and cool, I let myself be talked into joining the others for a jaunt across the border. 

We piled into our rented Escalade and Q's ancient land yacht and headed south. We had a pretty good time wandering about, eating, drinking and shopping. Finally, 5pm rolled around and we decided it might be good to start back to the island, eat, get cleaned up, and go out clubbing. As it happened, we never quite made it.

Somewhere within walking distance of the Rio Grande is a bar called Blanca White's (which mean's White's [as in a name -- Mr. White] white). I was reluctant, but figured what the hell. We walked up to the door and they asked us how many were in our party. About 4 of us yelled "Eight!" An interesting detail about Blanca Whites is that they only allow a certain number of people in at a time, preventing overcrowding. A wise policy.

While we were waiting, in fact almost immediately after we asked for an eight-person table, two girls walked up. One was blonde and gorgeous, the other brunette and cute, in a schoolteacher sort of way (turns out she was an Education major), with blue eyes to die for.

"Y'all going in here?" asked Jeff. They smiled and nodded. "What school are you from?" 

"Texas A&M," they said. A&M! Jeff, Rollie and I were from A&M! 
As one, we three and two of the other guys turned and said "Make that a TEN person table!"

It was only a couple of minutes later we were ushered in. I was unprepared for what we ran into. The interior was brightly lit, with lots of pseudo-Spanish decor and assorted bric-a-brac I couldn't place. An old Eagles' tune was playing, not too loudly, but the entire population of the bar was singing along. We got our table. The other guys ordered liter bottles of Corona beer, I ordered a Hurricane, and the girls also ordered beers, though smaller. Soon we were singing along with all of the great old rock and roll tunes that were being played. I added a bit of air guitar, drums, and keyboards just for variety. This went continued off and on for most of the night. 

The girls naturally got a lot of attention from us. The blonde was named Kira and the brunette Mindy. They were the first two of a larger group that would be arriving tomorrow. One thing was already clear. Andy, a member of the five-man group below my three, had his sights on Kira and was going after her in a big way.

Since Kira looked pretty happy with this proposition, that meant Mindy was getting the on-again/off-again attention of seven other guys, myself included. I wondered how to make myself stand out from the crowd (good marketing is no evil as long as it is truthful) in a more positive, get-to-know-you way than my air-musicianship.

In my experience, a lot of girls dislike being followed around like a puppy, or by attempting to monopolize their conversations. So I decided to do my best to spread my attentions around the group, now talking to Q, then Mindy, then Andy, then Jeff, then Mindy again, etc.

After about two hours (any thoughts of returning to the hotel having long since been forgotten) and a pretty good pile of drinks for all concerned (I was easily the most sober person present -- not that the others were bombed, just buzzing hard), Mindy began to pay more and more attention to me. Kira was by now sitting in Andy's lap.

The brunette had very pretty blue eyes, and a slender, almost model-like, athletic body. She had a great sense of humor (or at least we laughed at each other's jokes), and thought my air guitar was "cool". The fact that I was a grad student and at least four years older than all present seemed to be a source of amazement to her. Maybe the idea of an "older" man excited her, I dunno. I do know I liked Mindy, as well as a couple of hours can give you the chance to know anybody enough to like them.

Another hour saw us slow-dancing around the table. Andy and Kira had their noses touching. The other fellows were very drunk and obviously having one hell of a time. I kissed Mindy for the first time that night. She responded with a passion, stopping our slow movements in order to better press herself against me. Her tongue insinuated itself between my lips, and I sucked on it.

She shivered at that, and I noticed I was getting a hard-on.

We held that kiss for quite a long while. Finally, we broke it with mutual gasps. It was pretty certain neither one of us had expected that much intensity, and her expression showed it. I know mine did.

She glanced around the crowded bar. We hadn't attracted all that much attention in the hubbub, but she looked up at me with those incredible blue eyes and said, "Maybe we should get out of here."

"Sounds good," I replied. "I suppose we could take my truck back to Padre. It'll fit all four of us." I nodded at Andy and Kira.

"We're not staying on the island. Our rooms are at the Border Hotel."

"Where?" I had no idea what she was talking about.

"The Border Hotel. It's right over the bridge. We can walk to it from here."

Well, now that sounded good. It was probably best that I didn't drive, either. I nodded. "That's great. Let's get out of here."

We gathered up our other two lovebirds and bailed out of Blanca Whites.

The other guys had a hard time keeping straight faces as we explained what we were doing. I'm amazed they did. Fortunately, Q's car was big enough to carry everyone that was left at the bar back to Padre. As we staggered out, past the long line of folks waiting to get in, I glanced at my watch.

It said 10:30. We'd been in Blanca's almost 5 hours! And the night had only begun.

We made it to the hotel without incident. I'm not sure how. We could hardly keep our hands off each other, and every hesitation suddenly seemed an excuse to lip-lock. It was as if the long build-up in the bar was suddenly boiling over for both of us. Once in the room, we didn't bother with preliminaries, we just fell onto the double bed and proceeded to try to inhale one another. I didn't notice that Kira and Andrew had gone into a different room until quite a while later. Our hands roamed frantically. I rolled under her, spoon fashion, and cupped both her small breasts from below. She placed her hands on top of mine and pressed down even harder, while she spread her feet for balance and tried to grind her ass into my cock. I craned upwards and sucked at the back of her neck. She pulled my hands down to press into the vee of her legs, gasping suddenly when I pulled upwards on the jeans-clad crotch with considerable strength.

Mindy rolled herself over so we faced each other, with her on top of me.

She continued to thrust her pelvis at me as we kissed again. I reached down and began to pull up her shirt. She raised her arms to allow it to slide off.

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