Ocho Rios Obsession

"This waterfall, tourists never see."

Patrice led Michael through jungle so thick the sun barely penetrated. Her body moved through the undergrowth like she was part of it—thick hips swaying, that ass in her shorts making the hike worthwhile.

"How do you know about it?"

"Mi grandmother show mi. Now mi show yuh."

The waterfall was paradise. Crystal water falling into a private pool, surrounded by flowers he couldn't name.

"Is beautiful," he breathed.

"So are yuh."

He turned. Patrice was already stepping out of her clothes, revealing a body that made the waterfall seem ordinary. Thick everywhere, dark skin glistening, absolutely unashamed.

"Yuh coming?"

The water was perfect. So was she.

They floated together, her thick body against his, the waterfall roaring behind them.

"Yuh wife was fool to leave yuh," she said softly.

"How did you know—"

"Yuh have that look. Hurt. Lonely." She kissed him gently. "Let Patrice make it better."

She made it better against the rocks, water cascading over them both. That thick body wrapped around his, her legs locked behind him, her moans mixing with the waterfall's thunder.

"Yes! Deeper! Make mi feel it!"

He gave her everything. The hurt, the loneliness, the need. She took it all and gave back pleasure beyond measure.

They lay on the warm rocks after, sun drying their bodies.

"Come back tomorrow," she said. "I have more places to show yuh."

"Just the waterfalls?"

She laughed, that body shaking beautifully. "The waterfalls. Mi bed. Mi shower. Everywhere yuh want."

Michael extended his trip. Then extended it again. Eventually, he stopped extending and just stayed.

Ocho Rios had healed something in him. Or rather, Patrice had.

Now he runs tours with her, showing other lost souls the hidden waterfalls.

And the private one? That's just for them.