The great thing about being a teacher is the amount of time off that comes with the job. Winter break, spring break, and of course summer break. I have always believed in a "re-charge." We all need a break from work, but there are millions of idiots out there who don’t understand. A wise man once told me, "Anyone who works too hard and does not have the relief of having fun, has problems." I know of several people who have this problem. I certainly am not one of them.

I have never taught summer school and never will. While some teachers make a few extra bucks in summertime, I spend all my savings every summer to travel. After my first year of teaching, I went to Australia. I did a two-week tour for "singles" around my age. At the time, I was shit-scared of the great unknown. My buddy Vince tagged along to supplement this fear. We covered the entire Eastern Coast, but missed out on Cairns, in the north, and Melbourne, in the south. Everywhere else in between we visited and conquered.

During our tour, we spent a couple nights at Fraser Island, a small island off the eastern coast. We stayed in large 5-room cabins with this little party area in the middle. A short walk away was the resort bar, which became a significant part of our island experience.

The first night, the bar was doing a karaoke night, but only ten of the 50 people on our tour were into it. The others were "resting." Apparently, they were all "saving" their energy for the "big night" the following night (We had all planned a "Pimps and Ho’s" party, and everyone had gone shopping for clothing before we took the ferry to the island. It was kind of a big deal). Whatever.

The pre-party for the Pimps and Ho’s party was by far the best pre-party I have been to after graduating college. The girls dressed slutty, while the guys wore some of the most creative costumes I had seen in recent memory. I’ve never been a fan of wearing "what you’re supposed to wear." The best costumes are always the ones that confuse people. Or the ones that make people say, "So what’s that?" or "So who are you supposed to be?" I’ve always found those to be the most intriguing. Vince wore a pink robe with sausage links around his neck. I told him the sausage links might scare the girls away. He didn’t give a fuck. I wore a black baseball cap, an open pink collared shirt, a shaved chest, a few bead necklaces, a purple tie, and a consistent pink loli-pop in my mouth. I considered myself destined to get laid.

When our entourage of 50 arrived at the bar, we were delighted to find another tour group already there. They had heard of our event and decided to join in on the festivities. They were dressed up in full attire, gloriously exemplifying their ability to assimilate and party with the best. We liked them immediately.

The bar was packed, and people that I least expected to dance were moving like I had never even imagined. It was on. I sipped my beer and sucked on my loli-pop. Back and forth, for an hour straight (I had several loli's in my pocket; it wasn't the same one all night long). Somewhere deep inside, our hearts were secretly reminding us that we were partying on an island. There really is nothing quite like island fever.

Brenda caught my eye the moment I arrived at the party, but I put off approaching her because I wanted to party with my tour mates and wanted to work on my record-breaking buzz. Finally, I felt the moment had arrived. I approached her. Now here’s the thing, this girl was literally the ONLY person at the bar who wasn’t wearing a costume. Here's her outfit. Ready? Reading glasses, blue jeans, and a gray sweater. She did not belong to that bar on that particular night. It was like a butt-naked uncircumcised guy walking into a Jewish Temple and trying to fit in. She was out of her mind. Yet underneath the plethora of clothing, I could tell she was hot and I was obviously attracted to her. My only fear was that she was some raging feminist or some shit. But she had a beer in her hand, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I moved in.

Me: (Smiling, nearly laughing) So why are you wearing a sweater?

Her: (She had an Aussie accent. It seemed she was prepared for this question) I didn’t have any clothes for this.

Me: Aww your friends couldn’t loan you any?

Her: No, I really didn’t…ask them.

Me: Oh, so are these your friends? (I motioned to the four girls encircled behind her)

Her: Yeah

At that point, her friends saw me motion to them and probably instantly labeled me as creepy. They walked up to her and told her they were going outside for a bit. They tried to get her to come with them, but she refused and told them she was going to stay. I’ve always found that anytime a girl turns down an opportunity to leave with her friends, she’ll probably hook up with you. Even after just a few sentences, this girl was mine to lose.

Despite being dressed as up an Eskimo, she turned out to be cooler than I had originally thought. We talked for another 30 minutes, and I tried to understand how in the hell she was comfortable being the only costumeless person at the party. She informed me, "I don’t give a fuck what people think about me. I do what I want." It was probably a lie, but I willed myself into believing it.

We went outside and began making out on the benches. She was a wild one. So wild that she really wasn’t that great of a kisser. Her tongue was slithering this way and that. I had no control. I just opened my mouth and let her do all the work. After 15 minutes of being tongue-throated, she asked me if I "want to get out of here." I said ok and led her to my room.

When I arrived, Vince was about ready to pass out. Apparently, he had met this chick that came back to his room with him, but didn’t want to hook up. She just wanted to "check out the cabin" and really meant it. She took off on him, leaving him there, a tired frustrated pile of sausage links. He was already ten shots, and five beers deep. His eyes sagged, but he was a team player. He saw me with my girl and said he’d wait outside.

The moment we got inside my room, this chick started to exponentially decay in attractiveness. She complained that the room was a mess. I could tell she obviously had hardcore OCD. She asked me, "Is that your bed?" I said, "Um yeah. Is that ok?" She asked me why there was "all that shit on it." My bed was currently home to a pair of jeans, a pair of board shorts, a towel, a white sheet, a white comforter, and a pillow. She freaked out. "I can’t go on there," she said. I instinctively grabbed the pants, shorts, and towel and threw them on the floor. She made a face. Fuck it. Simplify. I grabbed the sheets, comforter, and pillow and threw them on the floor. She smiled.

The simplification suited her unusual needs, and we hopped on the bed and went at it. When I took her sweater off, she literally took the thing and half folded it and put in against the wall. Oh my god. It took some time to undo, but when I got her bra off, I threw it over my head to evoke a reaction out of her. She tried to see where it went (of course), but I interrupted her insanity and started violently kissing her. This temporarily cured her insanity, and she forgot all about the bra. When her pants and panties came off, I let her do what she wanted with them. I wanted to get laid and didn’t want to risk blowing it just to see a cool reaction. She put them next to her sweater, I put the condom on, and we started fucking.

For a girl who "didn’t give a fuck," she was terrible at sex. She laid there like a "starfish" (A term used by Australian men that describes a girl who, during sex lies still on her back with her arms above her head and her legs spread making the shape of a star. A real bore). I had borderline whiskey dick and couldn’t bust my nut. Some 20-25 minutes into it, Vince started knocking on the door. I wrapped myself with the towel on the ground and answered the door. He looked like a train wreck. He needed to go to sleep. Badly.

I told Brenda we had to go somewhere else. She was compassionate toward Vince, so we got dressed and left. 
 

We were both still horny when we departed the cabin. Unfortunately, she had roommates, so her place was out of the question. Just as we were discussing this, we crossed a deserted intersection on the hill. We looked to our right and saw a dark road. We agreed to "explore."

We walked up the road some 50 feet and started making out again. We laid on the black pavement and started getting naked. What the fuck? This was a girl who had just freaked out about an ordinary bed, but was now suddenly prepared to lie on a dirt-infested road and get naked? I came to the conclusion that the island fever had FINALLY overtaken this girl. Her way of life had been temporarily put on hold for this tiny wrinkle in time.

Recognizing the turn of events, I capitalized. I threw her pants over her head. She didn’t give a fuck. I took her panties off and tossed them in the same vicinity. She didn’t give a fuck. I put a new condom on and starting fucking away. She moaned like a free woman beneath the trees and stars. Crickets chirped, bushes rustled in the wind, and faint trinkets of laughter and hip-hop music from the bar trickled up and contributed to our explicit visitation with nature. 

We finished up, got dressed, and walked back down the hill. We said our good-byes. She actually went back to the party to "see if her friends were still there." I was done for the night. I went back to my tornado-struck room, grabbed my comforter off the ground, hopped on my bed, and passed out instantly. I needed a re-charge. Tomorrow was another day. Another adventure.