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mounds above a hard six-pack flat against his torso. I didn't know the name of the muscles that began below the six-pack but they formed a perfect 'v' funneling down to his cock.
    The dark patch of hair at the center of his chest thinned down to a tiny line before it fanned out again at his groin. Not having too much to compare it with, I assumed that a cock that reached mid-thigh was probably on the large side. That is, in the short time it was just hanging. It flashed through my mind that maybe Nathan's crappy 'tude toward women and life in general was related to the equipment he'd been dealt. I had a much better understanding of the term 'pencil dick' now that I'd seen one that wasn't.
    But Morgan's package was so much more than his package. The muscles on his limbs were as well defined as an athlete's. There wasn’t a spot on him that looked less than perfectly toned. The rear view was just as fantastic. His tight ass cheeks stiffened in just the right way with each step he took. It made me want to pinch them.
    I sat for a long time in the dimly lit kitchen thinking about what it would be like to fuck that kind of man. I'd certainly never looked at a fireman picture and thought, " God, I want that between my legs. " A real living naked man evoked a far different response. At least this one did.
    The clock said three-thirty. My alarm was set for five. It was pointless to go back to sleep.
     
    ***
     
    Hey Rachel,
    We're shoving off for the Bahamas tomorrow as soon as my supplies are delivered. I'm not sure where we're going, but it's on the other side of the Atlantic. I'll find out tomorrow and keep you posted. You should see this boat! It is un-be-lieve-able. Totally Gucci.  So no worries about being able to stay in touch. I'm sure the several huge satellite dishes on top will keep the wifi working no matter where we are.
    Right now, it's almost 4 and I'm wide awake because I just walked out of my room (which is off the kitchen) and caught my boss buck friggin' naked in the kitchen. OMG. He looks like he should be on some man-candy calendar or something. We may have to invent a new word to describe the hotness of this guy. Obviously off limits to lil'ole me, but still.
    Not off-limits is the very cute captain. Not on the same level as 'the Boss' but cute all the same in a nice-guy kind of way. Nice doesn't have to always mean boring does it?
    Anyway, you can see that my mind is right back in the old familiar gutter. Hey, I can't always be about food, can I?
    Keep me posted on Lauderdale.com
    Talk soon. XOXOXO
    L
     
    I hit send and stared at the screen. I was about to get dressed and go into the kitchen for some therapeutic chopping, but there was nothing I really needed to prep for. My fingers automatically typed 'Morgan Wolf' in the search box. Apparently he kept a low profile because other than the usual white pages listings there wasn't much. He and Richard had won a couple of fishing tournaments in the past few years, but there was no reference to business, schooling or any kind of affiliations anywhere. The image search turned up some shots of him with Richard and several other guys holding trophies from the tournaments.
    I clicked on one of the generic white pages listings for Ft. Lauderdale and noted the relatives listed: Jackson Wolf, Francesca Wolf, Clarissa Wolf.
    Jackson turned out to be the most interesting one. There was a boatload of information about the hotel chain mogul and his empire. Born in 1952. That would make him the right age to be Morgan's father. I scrolled through a few articles outlining the senior Wolf's many accomplishments, philanthropic endowments and miscellaneous appearances at this or that social function. One article talked about his interest in protecting the ocean's resources and made mention of his boat, El Lobo.
    " Ah, Daddy's boat , the hand-me-down ." I thought. I was starting to put together a mental picture of Morgan Wolf as a rather do-nothing rich kid sailing around the