#Acapulco shirts

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

WHEN THE CAMERAS AREN'T ROLLING, ALWAYS MAKE YOURSELF A DRINK.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on the Chairman of the Board, Frank Sinatra (who later won Best Supporting Actor in this film), tending bar on the set of the American romantic war drama "From Here to Eternity" (1953). 📸: ❓

Resolution from largest to smallest: 1152x1471, 1130x1479, & 651x842 -- Cheers, Frank!

Sources: www.pinterest.es/pin/305541155953412296 (3x found on Pinterest).

[hooked-on-elvis]

ᴇʟᴠɪꜱ' ᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴀꜱʜɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ' ᴄᴏꜱᴛᴜᴍᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ

A personal Elvis touch to some of his characters's wardrobe.

Recently me and @jhoneybees were drooling over Elvis in Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962) and Fun In Acapulco (1963). I couldn't stop thinking about the backwards rolled up cuffs shirts that his characters wear in some scenes in both films because they look so good in him! Then I realized that Elvis used to wear his shirts just like this occasionally in the 1950s, before his Hollywood career had begun.

(2-3) Elvis on May 21, 1955 backstage at the Louisiana Hayride at the Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, Louisiana. (4-6) January 25, 1955. Elvis Presley. Tyler, TX. backstage Mayfair building.

(7) Elvis in Graceland in 1960. Here Elvis' acting career was already happening but he hadn't used the rolled-backwards sleeve cuffs shirts in the movies just yet (at least that I remember of), but that's gonna change in a couple of years.

(8-10) Elvis as Ross Carpenter in Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962).

(11-13) Elvis as Mike Windgren in Fun In Acapulco (1963).

Looking at those pictures I can imagine that Elvis himself did some styling to his character's wardrobe occasionally, very seldom I think. However it doesn't stop at the early 60s films… I noticed that again in Charro! (1969).

(14-15) The King as Jess Wade, with his one of his signature looks, the high collars (the jacket just appears for a brief moment in the film but when I saw it I was like 'Oh, Elvis... anyone could recognize you just by looking at your back from miles away...'

It's not like we need any pictures to proof high-collars were his thing but it won't cause any harm too, so...

Cool, isn't it? But, wait a minute, there's more! The next one was prior to Charro!

Right now, I can't say that Elvis in fact had any say-so concerning his characters costumes but that's my assumption based on a little studying on his history and by watching his movies but another thing gave me the idea he could do something about his costumes for the films.

Sandi Miller (fan/gate girl) shared on her Facebook account that she and another fan gave Elvis a jacket in 1966 while Double Trouble (MGM, 1967) was in production. Principal filming for Elvis's twenty-fourth movie began on July 11, 1966 and was finished by August 30, 1966. After the movie was released, visiting the fans as usual, Elvis told Sandi to watch a specific scene in the film and there it was! He was wearing the jacket she gave him.

August 3rd, 1966. Elvis off to the studio to film 'Double Trouble'. Candids by fan Sandi Miller.

On the pictures above, Sandi (on her Facebook account) said: "Elvis on his way to the studio to film 'Double Trouble.' On his lap is a jacket we gave him purchased from St. James mens shop in Fullerton." Fan Kathryn Harper Sherrill then asked Sandi: "And didn't he tell you to watch closely part of that film & your jacket was used in a scene of the film when he was packing or unpacking?" For what Sandi replied: "Yes, he did!"

On that post Sandi doesn't specify which jacket it was, unfortunately, but I followed the hint and looked for a scene Elvis' character was packing in the film. The jacket Sandi Miller gave EP is most likely this one below. He's wearing it while he sings 'City By Night' and also 'Old MacDonald' in that portion of the film.

Wasn't it thoughtful of him to wear a jacket gifted to him by a fan in one of his films?

This is Elvis in 1966, returning or leaving his Hillcrest home in California, during the Double Trouble movie production period. The jacket looks like the same he wore in the film for those scenes I mentioned previously.

Conclusion: I guess it's safe to say that Elvis sometimes would style his costumes a little bit, putting something more of himself into his characters beyond the unmistakable charm, humor and talent. i don't know if that's a good thing to do because most actors' goals is to have a character that requires them to transform their image and behaviors to a point the characters don't resemble their off-screen personas in the slightest but, knowing how Elvis' movies were so… unusual… specially made to please Elvis' audience as they were (always craving for more) and how that caused the screenplays not to have real efforts put into that would give EP the need to really become someone else for his movies, it's not exactly wrong of him to incorporate his own persona (to a given extent) into the characters he played. All in all, I guess that makes his acting career even more unique. Elvis was not an ordinary artist after all. At times being that spectacular human being backfired, and Elvis just… went with the flow.

Those are just a few moments I noticed when Elvis' fashion style was lent to his on-screen characters. Have you noticed any other moments in the movies where this happens?

[where-did-the-groove-go]

Okay, so I've been lucky enough to encounter a Volkswagen Thing irl on more than one occasion since constantly keeping an eye out for them in the past couple years, after first becoming aware of their existence as what Ron still stubbornly drives to this day. Actually, the first one I saw was a VERY lucky sighting, but I didn't even realize it was a Thing until afterwards. Because I'd been looking for something that looked like Ron's car. Not THIS:

That's the Acapulco Thing, which was briefly sold in 1974--only about 400 of them--after being designed to shuttle guests around at a couple of high-end beach resorts in Mexico. In retrospect I probably should've realized a lot sooner, because my reaction upon seeing it had been "What the heck is that THING?!" It dawned on me a couple days later, just because you'd be hard-pressed to find any other car that boxy, though a quick Google image search hadn't pulled up any with the surrey top.

(My second Thing sighting was much more as expected and obvious; it even had a decal plastered on its side which read "The Thing".)

Several months later, thanks to the Boss Accountant showdown being posted here, I found out that the Thing is a relatively rare car. Which prompted me to spend a few days fixated on reading about them. Then I was finally able to put a name to the Acapulco variant.

Something else I learned... Turns out that if you're anywhere near LA and you see a Thing that looks like Ron's, it almost definitely is.

(I say "near LA" only because I doubt Ron is doing any serious roadtripping in it these days.)

A bit of backstory: the Thing was advertised as a fun car. A beach cruiser, a safari car. Aimed at surfers and hippies and other adventurous types. It's a convertible. The windshield folds down. The doors can be taken off.

That's not the impression I initially had of the Thing, and perhaps with good reason: Ron's is a bit unique even among Things. For one, it has the less common factory hardtop on it, instead of the convertible one. Additionally, in 1974, black was not a stock color for Things. They only came in colors suitable for 1974: orange, yellow, white, and avocado green. Which means that more than likely, Ron specifically wanted his black (because of course he did), and would've had to go out of his way to get it repainted or find one that had already been repainted. A full repainting job is no small feat for a Thing because a lot of the metal is exposed inside the car, meaning that everything has to come out of it to have the interior repainted--and we can see that Ron's has.

Anyway, I just think that makes it all the more poetic. Not only does Ron's car reflect his personality in being "a little bit out of the ordinary", but his black utilitarian ride is a brightly colored beach-mobile in disguise. Nothing more fitting for a guy whose crisp shirts and ties and slicked-back hair and quiet demeanor would never belie it now but one of his formative experiences was spending the 1960s surfing.

So if you're ever feeling sad, just remember that Ron is driving the same car as the Acapulco Thing.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Fun In Acapulco Review

Elvis Presley never set a single foot in Mexico. And yet he was deemed a persona non grata due to a controversy involving quotes Elvis made that legitimately never happened. Unfortunately, because of this official status disallowing Elvis from entering the country all on site shooting had to be done with a body double. Elvis himself filmed the rest of the movie entirely on a Hollywood studio.

This movie marks the beginning of the rivalry between Elvis Presley and The Beatles. Beatlemania had taken hold in the UK in 1963 with the US quickly following behind it. While their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show wouldn't be until another few months, Elvis' place on top of the pop culture pyramid was being challenge. Does this movie put those fears at ease, or is this an early indication of Elvis' irrelevance? Let's find out.

"Fun in Acapulco" is surprisingly low key and pleasant. It genuinely gives you vibes that you're waking up in Acapulco at a resort by the beach. Then you see Elvis on a boat as a small group of Mexican singers come up and immediately realize none of his scenes will be in Acapulco. Instead, we're stuck with very obvious rear screen projections and Hollywood soundstages throughout the whole movie. There's a small moment of humor when Elvis just yells at the top of his lungs for the Mexican band to be quiet. It's not loud at all but you can tell he had to project to be heard.

Meanwhile we get a very uncomfortable interaction where a heavily implied teenaged girl named Janie is flirting with Mike Windgren. I don't like this plot point especially when we get a male gaze shot of her skirt as she walks away. Again she's heavily implied to be a minor and even in the movie it's seen as being inappropriate for an adult to show interest of any kind. It simply feels unnecessary to include that and doesn't age well at all given what we hear about Hollywood.

Mike goes to a Mexican tavern to meet up with the musicians wearing the ugliest shirt I've seen. Usually the wardrobe does a good job of making amazing outfits, but this is personally a miss. Along the way he meets a young Mexican boy named Raoul in an act of foreshadowing about the relationship they're going to have. "Vino, Dinero Y Amor" and "I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here" are both ok. This is when you realize the main goal of the movie is to sell a soundtrack. Mike also meets Dolores for the first time and I think this was a great way to establish their character dynamic since you easily believe that she's just looking to have fun while she's in town. It's also incredible how so many people smoked back then, to the point where the whole room looks hazy.

Before they get too involved in their dance, Mike sees Janie at the tavern drinking alcohol. I have no idea what the drinking laws in Acapulco was in 1963, but everyone treats this as being illegal. Janie's dad sees her at the tavern despite having no idea that she'd be there. She blames Mike for bringing her there and buying her the drink and of course gets him fired because that's the most obvious set up in the world. There are so many issues with this scene I won't take the time to explain it all. It's just so pointless to even have this plot point since we literally never see anyone outside of Dolores' camp ever again and only exists because we needed to have some reason to have Mike leave his job to team up with Raoul.

Raoul informs us with something that will never lead to anything important plot wise. Mike would need to have a very specific VISA to work in Mexico. This actually makes sense given that Mr. Harkins isn't a Mexican citizen and therefore didn't require Mike to have a VISA. But since Raoul has an insanely high amount of connections he's able to get Mike a singing job while he fills in for a singer we literally never see in person and is always "out".

The logic of this surprisingly works since it's clear Raoul has genuine connections with numerous businessmen, but I'm just bummed that we never see who the actual singer is since it could've added conflict. You would think that the conflict would involve Mike working without a proper VISA and his rival planning to reveal that fact. But no, it's never brought up in a way that makes you think Mike has to worry about possibly being deported.

Raoul picks up Mike on his bike. As much as it's cute to have them sing "Mexico" Raoul's singing vocals just didn't sound right. I know he's a pre-pubescent boy but at times you just cringe when he hits the high notes. So we get introduced to Moreno but uh oh Mike looks nervous about seeing him jump off a diving board because we need foreshadowing. Mike agrees to work as a lifeguard during the siesta so no laws are being broken. Mike gets on top of one of the diving boards and we surprisingly get a backstory. Mike is a trapeze artist and we see with no dialogue how during a performance he dropped his brother. The silent horror on his face when he saw his brother lying on the floor dead, was so well done by Elvis. It isn't realistic to have everyone react to a trauma by screaming. With Mike he felt instant shame to the point where he had to look away.

That memory was so brutal, Mike of course stepped down from the diving board feeling haunted. The worse thing about the incident is that it could've been avoided. Circuses started using safety nets in the mid 19th century, so the fact that you never saw one indicates overconfidence. Sadly when you're a trapeze artist, there are people who are so confident in what they do, basic safety precautions are neglected. In Mike's brother's case, it sadly costed him his life and Mike now has to live with that guilt. He sends a telegram to his parents and it's obvious that this is a deep trauma that he couldn't recover from at home. This should've been the focus of the whole movie because it's the only thing I feel invested in. The aftermath of someone's death, especially in avoidable circumstances, rarely gets to be the focus and this would've been the perfect way to change that.

Mike sees Moreno and a woman named Margarita Dauphin. Moreno has a lot of issues with Mike being interested in her, and it's genuinely reasonable since they're actually dating. Mike meets Margarita and her father where he works as the head chef. I'm impressed he can cook so well knowing that he's a former Duke. We get a brief history lesson that they came from an unnamed European country (I personally believe it was Hungary since their monarch was abolished in 1946). This basically means that Mike is talking to a Duchess despite no longer having the title.

"El Toro" is a great song with an even better outfit. In a way it really honors the history of bullfighting and the bravery bullfighters have to possess. After his performance, he turns down publicity pictures. As much as it's rude, you understand why he doesn't want the attention. He's still working through his grief and doesn't want word getting out that he's in Acapulco since that would result in people asking him very uncomfortable questions. Mike runs into both Dolores and Margarita. Despite dating Moreno, Margarita is clearly jealous that Dolores has Mike's attention as well. Mike goes to see a man dive, and he's clearly traumatized from looking over the railing. Raoul organizes for Mike to sing a song at the restaurant. "Margarita" while good, is just a drag in terms of the story. Mike tries again to dive, but of course is too scared. He climbs back down and I love that Margarita and Raoul don't make fun of him. They surprisingly handle his trauma with respect.

Mike performs "The Bullfighter Was a Lady" and he looks even better in this scene than "El Toro". This time he's specifically honoring Dolores since she's one of the best in the business. Female bullfighters even to this day are rare because of how dangerous it is. Margarita of course is jealous despite outright being on a date with Moreno. Dolores of course knows this and doesn't care. Because at the end of the day, Dolores isn't doing anything wrong. Margarita is the one who wants to 2 time with Mike.

So the two leave and we get a "serious conversation". Dolores makes it very clear that she has no interest in marriage and only wants to have casual relationships. I love that openness since for the 1960s, a career girl wasn't as well respected. "(There's) No Room to Rhumba in a Sports Car" is the clunkiest song ever. You could just cut it and nothing is lost.

"Bossa Nova Baby" is great and there's a reason why it's so iconic. If you slowed down the playback you would see that the average person couldn't replicate this. After his performance, he wants to go see Margarita but notices Dolores is there too. Dolores is tied up with a tourist couple that I wanted to be Mike's parents so bad. Instead we never see them again. It just makes you wonder, what was the point?

In the morning, Raoul asks Mike what club he wants to work for. We see a different filming technique by showing these phone calls in a split screen which I thought was a neat touch. Mike however stalls since he still wants to get with Margarita. He meets with Moreno and Moreno things happen. Moreno meets up with Dolores manager, Jose. Jose reveals that he knows about the Flying Windgrens. Absolutely nothing important will happen because of this. Dolores arranges for a party to be arranged the next day. Margarita of course doesn't like it and makes an offhand remark to her dad that he should poison Dolores. The former Duke though has a dream to have her get married to an American so they can both get VISAs.

This is when the movie drags. Even though he reveals his trauma to Margarita it's just so shallow because the scene quick cuts to Moreno finding the truth. That's also so rushed since as soon as he finds the newspaper article we immediately cut to Dolores' party. This is the only time we see Mike's family and it's such a waste of a good story to not see them interact with Mike in person.

"You Can't Say No in Acapulco" is pretty good for a poolside ballad. In a way it really reflects the sadness Mike feels. We see Moreno dive in preparation for his upcoming cliff dive and to entertain Dolores' guests.

Raoul tells Mike about Margarita's desire to get a VISA, and Moreno tells Dolores about Mike's traumatizing past. Dolores becomes cold for no reason as she acts so disappointed that Mike is a "chicken". Mike despite feeling very hurt just walks away. Raoul meanwhile never leaves his side and it's pretty sweet that he does care about Mike beyond what he could do for him.

The former Duke clears things up with Mike. He explains that it was really his idea to get the VISAs. It was never meant to hurt anyone. He tells Mike that Margarita has gone to see Moreno dive for a famous astronaut.

As he leaves, Moreno somehow knew he would be there and follows him out of the staff's kitchen. He keeps making fun of Mike for being a coward and I have no idea what this is meant to accomplish. Moreno was already a jerk so him knowing this information doesn't change anything. While I can see how it'd be him going too far, the timing is so off. Mike should've confronted him about it as soon as told Dolores.

We see Red West in the background who cameos in a couple scenes and it's amazing that he doesn't interact with Elvis at all since usually Elvis' friends had a line or two when they did cameo. They get into a fight and I have no idea why no one's stopping them. This is essentially a crowded entrance so you would think security would break it up because of the other guests possibly getting hurt from it. Moreno gets badly injured and Mike is able to just walk away with no resistance which would never happen in real life. Unable to see Margarita he goes around the club and hears from Raoul that the dive would otherwise be canceled. I understand a lot of people think this was a cheap way to resolve his PTSD, but given how the 1960s didn't really acknowledge it outside of the military I thought it was a good shot.

The cliff scene is one of the best scenes in the movie. Mike had no obligation to fill in for Moreno, but he did it anyway. This wasn't a rash decision where in an act of heroics he stepped in. He knowingly did it with the full knowledge that it could get him killed. The near silence that comes with watching him ascend even though it's a body double for most of the scene is beautiful. Everyone watching this knows it's a risky thing to do.

Even though I'm not religious, it's very important in Mexican culture. Seeing Raoul cross himself and Mike pay tribute to the shrine on top of the cliff was absolutely necessary. Given the danger involved, it makes total sense to send a prayer. Mike had to do this before he made his jump. Symbolically speaking, he's asking for his brother's spirit to keep him safe and him diving into the water served as his baptism or rebirth. He's no longer consumed with the grief and guilt of his brother's death. He's a new man that's willing to go back to his family with his new love Margarita and his friend/manager Raoul.

"Guadalajara" is a well deserved happy ending. Moreno at least admits he was wrong to call Mike a coward. I guess with him being interested in Dolores, his relationship with Margarita is over. The song itself is good but it does drag a bit. It's almost like they didn't know how to fill in the runtime which is so weird.

Margarita despite somehow getting back with Mike still looked a little jealous when Dolores kissed his cheek. I don't think this couple will last. Mike had more chemistry with Dolores but she out of nowhere turned standoffish. It's all boring and forced to the point where Mike has his best relationship with Raoul who's a 10 year old. I just really wish that Mike's relationship with his family had more focus. The pieces were there. It's just very unfortunate that a man expressing grief wasn't something worth focusing on back then.

I think this is the first time reviewing these movies where I felt bored watching it. As much as I love the diving plot, the romance is a drag. It feels like the writing took a step backwards regarding what makes an Elvis vehicle interesting. Instead of making the romances engaging they're instead so forgettable that it's like they just included it because it's part of a checklist. I will say that it did do a good job highlighting La Quebrada Cliffs by making them integral to Mike's character arc since to this day it's a popular tourist attraction.

Because the diving plot gave me something to feel invested in, with the final dive providing a genuine sense of tension I give it a 7/10. If you're a new Elvis fan this should not be the first one you see since the songs can be very distracting, and nothing is developed enough to keep your attention. Now if you're a seasoned fan is it worth re-watching? Yes. I think you can watch it every now and then, but it's definitely the film equivalent of cotton candy: something you consume and forget relatively fast. Genuinely the first stumble in the road for Elvis' movie career where I didn't feel overly passionate about anything. And for someone in the entertainment industry, that's practically a death sentence.

Tagging: @thelonelyheart @whositmcwhatsit, @hooked-on-elvis, @smokeymountainboy, @atleastpleasetelephone,

@stitchlover0112, @tupelomiss, @vintagepresley, @eapep, @almightybigbrain,

@coltswael, @cieloestrelladoluna, @huhhhhsthings, @arrolyn1114, @peaceloveelvis,

@peskybedtime, @mercsandmonsters, @tacozebra051, @valloos, @ilovequeen978,

@elvisvideos, @presleyhearted, @depressedfairie, @kawaiiwitchy, @swingdownsweetchariot,

@ruggednessworld, @southcarolinawoman, @atrophyingaphrodite, @jrbrandi13, @summer56,

@elvismylove04, @eptodaytommorowforever, @lookingforrainbows, @araiarts, @fharysa,

@lett-them-eatt-cake, @fryb0rg, @wanderlustingtomboy, @slayingjd, @wildhorseinkansas,

@somethingaboutelvis, @jhoneybees, @elvisbooty76, @iloveelvisss, @presleyheart,

@anakinsvault, @illtakeyouhomeagain, @callieselvisobsessed, @50sexyshadesfashionista, @memphisflash,

@arianatheangel-girl, @madslovesmaws, @lucy114505, @presleygarden, @earthbaby-angelboy,

@nicferg068, @xanatenshi, @elvispresley1935, @iloveelvisss, @underthememphissun,

@cccayliexx, @thelonelyheart, @theelvisprincess and @ilovemyrockstarboyfriends.

[zmediaoutlet]

Sam marks time. Dean doesn't know why. Their watches still tick and that weird clock in the library still traces the hours and Sam writes them out on the chalkboard in the kitchen: one day and then two and then three and then—Dean doesn't keep track, doesn't want to look. The sun rises and midnight comes and it's another day in an empty world. He's not sure what the benefit of knowing how long it's been is, other than a hair shirt. Sam's good at constructing those but Dean's never felt the need. The hair shirt rides with him, inside his skin. Never really goes away.

Two remaining humans on Earth. Jack's a question mark. He spends a lot of his time split between his bedroom and sitting out on the side of the plant above the bunker. Taking in the air, or something. Dean would ask but he doesn't know what to say. When they failed—this bad. When it's their fault and there's no excuse to offer.

Sam would say it wasn't their fault but Chuck's. At least another Sam would. He tried on that first day after they came home, Chuck's glee searing some new kind of pain over every one of Dean's bones, and Sam's supposed to be the optimistic one but even he couldn't get through it. They could have, they should have. On that first night they both get very, very drunk, and Dean does have the thought somewhere between the last moments of lucidity and blackout that—okay, so they should've played their roles—at least Earth would be alive, at least there'd still be the old lady who worked the register at the grocery store and little kids selling chiclets in Acapulco and the Denver Broncos—but really, would that have been the end? If they'd gone full Romeo and Juliet. If he'd shot Sam in the head and then cut his own wrists and waited, the blood pooling into a lake, feeling every weakening heartbeat as the punishment he deserved. Would that have been enough? Or would the writer have realized that ending wasn't satisfying, either, and there'd be—shock, surprise—another sequel, the show renewed another year, and the Winchesters would be dragged back from death to enact some new version of melodrama? Dean watched a lot of soaps, back in the day, waiting through dull lonely days until he could dig a grave under cover of darkness. He knows no one ever got free, unless they got recast, and on an empty Earth there was fat chance of that. Which he explained to Sam, but Sam might've passed out by that point.

Fourth day of an empty Earth they get in a fight. It's halfhearted at best. Dean's hungover and Sam's jittery and terrified because there's nothing he can think of to fix what's gone wrong and Jack's quiet, a kicked dog not wanting attention in case another boot comes its way. Dean drank the last cup of coffee and Sam's pissed at him and then Dean's furious. It feels pointless even as it's happening. Sam gives him that look like he expects more and Dean throws his empty mug at the wall and leaves the kitchen and every ounce of anger drains out as soon as he's in the hall. He takes a shower—by some miracle, they're still getting water and power and light—and leans his aching head against the cold tile and doesn't cry but maybe he'd feel better if he could. It keeps not coming. When he dries off he pulls on boxers and a t-shirt and goes back to the kitchen and the pieces of the mug have been swept up and left in a broken pile on the kitchen island. Visual metaphor. He hopes Chuck appreciates it.

Sam's in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a beer in hand. Ten in the morning. "Stealing my move," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at him. Dean sits beside him on the bed and looks at the wall, too. Says, "Where's Jack?" and Sam says, all rusted edges, "Outside," and Dean doesn't know how the kid does it. When the door's closed on the bunker it feels—not good but not all that different than it used to. When they were alone down here, and the world could pass by overhead unknown. The silence down here is something Dean loved. The silence out there—

He takes the beer out of Sam's hand. Sam lets him. He takes a deep swallow. Then he sets the beer on the bedside table, and then he sets his hand on the back of Sam's neck, and then watches Sam close his eyes and his jaw flex. Dean doesn't want to ask; he doesn't have to.

They fuck. It's not good or bad. Dean's brain shuts off and when he comes to they're panting and it stinks kind of, Sam's sweat and the jizz in the air and two bodies sticking together. Sam's arm is curled under Dean's head and Dean turns his face down into Sam's bicep, hides his eyes from the light. His hangover hasn't gone away and may never. He says, "If we could've," and can't finish, but Sam knows what he means.

"We had our whole lives to learn how," Sam says. Very quiet. He lays his hand on Dean's belly and his forehead tips down against the back of Dean's head. Kind of hurts, bone to bone. "I never could. Could you?"

Sam's blood on his hands in exchange for seven billion lives, plus or minus a few. His gut aches. He can't respond but Sam doesn't seem to expect him to.

Refractory periods being what they are in a man's forties, Dean can't wipe his brain clean again the way he'd prefer. He leaves Sam's room and gets drunk again instead. In the morning he's hungover, and Sam's made coffee, and the chalkboard says it's day five.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Very Rare Elvis Presley 1963 Promo hollywood Studio's Candid Photo Taken The Same Time He Was Filming The Movie " Fun In Acapulco" Unseen Till Now! Wearing Here A Beautiful Red Crushed Velvet Top Shirt And As Always Looking Here The Superstar He Is And Now Very Sadly He Was Photograher Unknown.

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 2 - Trouble in Paradise

Hola! You've landed in Acapulco, Mexico. Now begins your two days of fun in the sun before flying back to Nueva York.

Word count - 3022

Not much in the way of any triggering content, apart from alcohol consumption.

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 1

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You have never been to Acapulco before, but you definitely want to come back again if you get to stay in this hotel next time. The next two days are going to be perfect, full of sun, sand and sea.

The first thing you do when you get into your room is chuck your uniform off, remove that thick purple jacket and change into something much lighter and free.

Your room is brightly decorated with pale green walls. Light wooden headboards crown not one but two double beds. You even get a balcony with a sea view. Paradise…

Stepping out onto the balcony, your soft, bare feet pad onto the smooth beige tiles, heated by the afternoon sun. The coastal breeze whips your long beach dress around your legs. With your hair still up, the warm, rushing wind caresses the skin on your neck like a lover’s tender kiss. You could get used to this.

To catch up on a much needed intake of vitamin D, you sit on the balcony and soak up the sun for a short while as you connect your phone to the hotel’s WiFi.

Taking a few snaps, you post them up on Instagram for your jealous friends at home to drool over. You smirk as you hit the post button, knowing full well, your phone will buzz constantly with notifications in a few moments time.

The prominent sound of the waves crashing along the sandy beach fills you with joy. It’s a constant noise that relaxes you. With each wave coming in and ebbing away again, it’s as though the sea is breathing, deep, long breaths, in and out.

You close your eyes as you enjoy your moment of peace…

(Thirty minutes prior)

Captain O’Hara grimaces as he steps out of the bus as he and the crew arrive at the hotel. While the rest of his colleagues gawp and stare at what they consider an impressive hotel, he regards it more of the opposite. A large rectangle-like building with a slope down one side, gives him the impression that it’s a modern take on an ancient Mayan pyramid, how… original... But, it’s a place to stay at least. He can shut himself in his room and not talk to anyone for two days.

A chorus of rollalong bags fills the air as the entire crew make their way inside the hotel. Some girls talk excitedly while he notices others catching a glimpse at him. He keeps his head down, looking at the polished grey tiled flooring as they approach the reception.

While you check in, the Captain approaches another available hotel receptionist after they call him forward. A few moments later he’s presented with a room key and a door number.

“Gracias,” he mumbles to the person behind the front desk and moves off, to go looking for the elevator.

He sees you disappear behind a set of closing lift doors as you get your room key before him. It isn’t long before another lift arrives.

Stepping out of the elevator, he turns the corner and sees you enter your room. Your door clicks shut as he looks down at his room number, 928.

925, 926, 927… 928… Huh…

His room is right next to yours.

He inserts his key into the slot and a green light flashes. Then, he pulls it out and turns the door handle to enter.

The door slams behind him as he lets go of his case. His long fingers negotiate his golden buttons on his jacket, pulling it away once it’s undone. Then he tugs at his tie, loosening it so he can yank it over his head.

After being out in the stifling Mexican sun, his crisp, white shirt clings to his skin uncomfortably. One by one, each button is undone, revealing his perfectly toned chest. The cool, conditioned air kisses his skin, soothing that gross sticky feeling.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, another email no doubt. Unlocking his phone with one hand, his other unfastens his belt buckle.

An email from his lawyer is the latest notification on his screen. His considerably sized thumb presses on it to read the message.

“Dear Mr. O’Hara.

We’re writing to inform you that as of this morning, the court has approved yours and Mrs. O’Hara’s divorce agreement.

We thank you for choosing us to represent you…”

The email continues but he stops taking it in. His hand lowers, the phone slips from his long fingers and falls onto the bed.

That’s it. It’s official. Divorced and not even forty - that’s still a few years away. He feels a total failure. He knew this email would arrive today, but it still doesn’t soften the blow.

Being a pilot means spending a lot of time away from home. When he was dating his now ex-wife, she was aware of his career and even embraced it. However, it seems a few years down the line, she wasn’t quite as prepared for it as she thought.

Despite her changing her mind on what she wanted in their marriage, he still feels he was a disappointment. It’s not that he didn’t try in his relationship with her; on days that he was home, he took his wife out on dates, or even went away for a couple of days. But she wanted more than what he could provide, despite making it plain to her from the get go.

He thought that a change in airline would do him some good, new company, new people… So far, not the best start. Unlucky for him that the court’s verdict on his divorce settlement coincides with his first day at his new job.

Kicking his smart, black shoes off, across the floor, he strips off completely and ambles into the hotel room’s ensuite. His defined muscles flex with every lazy footfall. Shortly after, the pattering sound of water hitting the shower tray echoes out from the bathroom as he has a much needed soak and freshening up session.

Peter waves at you as you enter the bar. Earlier, you arranged to sit, eat and drink with him instead of being a major party animal like the rest of the crew. It’s not your style and it isn’t Peter’s either, not any more anyway. He’s married and has a little girl at home, and feels that getting hideously drunk and dancing into the early hours of the morning is no longer appropriate. His head thanks him for that the morning after while the rest of the crew hide away in dark rooms feeling ill.

He taps his room keycard on the waxed table as you approach and sit.

“Hotel’s great isn’t it?” he asks as he watches you take in the surroundings.

The bar and restaurant is on the third floor. Windows on the inside, show the tops of the palm trees growing on the first floor in the lobby. Wooden support beams are dotted between tables.

“I love it. Definitely want to come back here again,” you reply as you tuck your chair in further under the table.

“Certainly makes it worth putting up with a hellishly boring flight with the new Captain.”

You frown sympathetically.

“That bad huh?”

Peter gives a laboured sigh.

“The dude hates speaking sentences longer than one word. And when he has no choice in having a conversation, he’s an ass about it.”

You chuckle. It’s funny when Peter gets animated and grouchy; the latter being a rare occurrence.

“Maybe he just needs a good fuck,” Peter says flippantly, picking up his drink and raises it to his mouth.

��Who needs a good fuck?”

Peter nearly spits his drink out in shock and you turn your head towards whoever just spoke.

At the side of your table, the giant Captain approaches, dressed in a white button up t-shirt and cream coloured shorts, complimenting his gorgeous skin tone. He knows that Peter was talking about him, but wants to see the First Officer squirm - or choke, he’s not fussed either way…

The sound of a chair dragging along the floor fills the room as Captain O’Hara takes a seat, joining the two of you. His expression, full of mock expectancy for Peter to answer his question.

“Uhh, just someone that both (Y/N) and I know,” he responds finally after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The Captain sits to your right while Peter is opposite you on the square table.

“Uh huh. Right,” he pauses as he places his large hands together and rests his elbows against the table.

“And is this something to do with the guy who ‘hates speaking sentences longer than one word’?”

As your eyes flit between the two pilots, you notice a lighter band of skin around his ring finger, as if he used to wear a ring but doesn’t anymore.

“Oh, fine - I was referring to you,” Peter concedes.

“I still stand by it though…”

You think Peter is being rather feisty, maybe he has gained some courage from drinking. He does seem more relaxed than usual.

Captain O’Hara squints at the First Officer’s comment, but before he can retort, you speak up.

“How long have you been flying, Captain?”

He looks at you in a stunned silence. Your question and tone of interest totally disarms him. Those dark brown eyes scan your face momentarily while Peter watches him and then you.

“Uhm…” The Captain has to think for a second, counting the number of years he has been flying for.

“Coming up to nine years. Why do you ask?”

His arms fold on top of the table.

You give a slight shrug, you were just simply interested in knowing, but you offer up a reason anyway.

“Today’s landing was probably the smoothest I’ve ever had.”

The Captain’s face turns slightly pink as his gaze drops away from yours. You notice a slight vibration under the table, as his knee bounces up and down rapidly.

“Oh… Um… Good flying conditions help - uhm… don’t they Parker?”

Peter is almost grinning watching this display of awkwardness from Captain O’Hara, but that cheeky expression drops when the pilot turns to face him.

“Oh, yeah, cross-winds are a nightmare. We had good and calm weather on our side today.”

As the conversation continues, the Captain finds himself surprised that he hasn’t felt tempted to leave. He originally wanted to order room service, but it turns out the hotel only does buffets so he was forced to leave his room. As you and Peter go in search of food, he watches over the table and your small bag containing your phone. While he waits, he orders a beer which will be his third this evening as he had already raided the minibar before leaving his room.

At the expansive buffet table, you decide to give fajitas a try. You place a couple of tortilla wraps on your plate and place some grilled food in the middle of them both. A small bowl of spicy Mexican rice gets your attention, so you pick that up too. The food smells amazing, and you’re surprised you’ve never given much Mexican food a chance before.

Peter looks like he’s in heaven, such a wide variety and one plate to fit it all on. You can tell he’s going to be there for a while.

Sitting back down at the table you tentatively try to negotiate the wrap. You fold one side over and then the other, but realise that will end up in a great, big mess. Captain O’Hara is taking a mouthful of Corona when he spots you having trouble with your food. He quickly gulps it and puts the glass down.

“Oh, no. Here’s how you do it,” he reaches towards your plate but pauses and looks at you.

“May I? I washed my hands before I came down.”

You give a nod in response to let him touch your food.

“Okay,” he begins, “you fold this bit here upwards, then fold the side over and do the same on the other side, like so...”

As he speaks, he demonstrates the folding technique.

“Nothing falls out the other side when you bite into it then.”

The Captain nudges your plate back towards you with a weak smile.

“Oh, right! That makes sense. Thank you.”

Picking up what now resembles a parcel of food, you bite into it. The flavours of the marinade and spices burst in your mouth and you give a contented hum of approval.

“Mmmm! That’s so good.”

You cover your mouth as you chew and swallow.

“Do you eat much Mexican food?” you ask with interest to maintain a polite conversation, before glancing over at Peter with a plate piled high with food; you suppress a laugh.

“Well, I’m - half Mexican so, I kinda grew up with it.”

“Oh - of course. How silly of me,” you reply before taking another bite.

He gives a slight shrug before he gawks at Peter’s mountain of food.

As you eat, you think about the Captain’s last name. O’Hara…

“So, you’re half Irish too?” you ask.

His gaze drops slightly again.

“Yes, that’s right. But, I don’t really recognise my Irish heritage. My father was a good for nothing piece of shit.”

As he answers, you can detect a hint of venom in his voice. Perhaps a story for another time - or never; you won’t push him.

Peter finally sits at the table, carefully setting his plate down after treating the journey like an intense balancing act.

“Are you going to eat all of that, Parker?”

Too late, the man has already started eating. There won’t be much sense coming from him now.

“Oh, he’ll eat most of it at least,” you answer for him and receive a look from Captain O’Hara as if non verbally asking you if you are serious.

“Well, I’m going to go and see if there’s anything left.”

He stands, suddenly reminding you how tall he is while you crane your head up to look at him as he heads towards the buffet.

A little later on, you’re all fed, watered - kind of, and feeling a little weary after a long day. Peter nurses a huge food baby and looks to be settled in his chair for a little while. You stifle a yawn just as the Captain finishes his fourth beer of the evening.

“Well boys,” you begin as you stand, “I’m going to get some shut-eye. Got to prepare myself for a day of doing absolutely nothing tomorrow.”

You sling your little bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll come with you - we’re neighbours,” the Captain stands up too and begins to follow you while Peter waves lazily.

“G’night!”

The both of you begin your leisurely walk back to your rooms, chatting along the way. You can tell that the beer has loosened him up quite considerably and seems more willing to talk. It’s been fun learning a bit about him. Then you realise, you don’t know his name.

“What’s your name, Captain? Seems a bit odd calling you that all the time.”

He gives a very small chuckle as he realises he’s neglected to tell you the most basic bit of information about him.

“Oh, my name’s Miguel,” he reaches out for something that you think is your hand which you offer him to shake.

Miguel slaps it lightly out of the way.

“No, your phone, gi’me your phone.”

“Oh…”

Unclasping your little bag, you bring out your cell phone and unlock it. Then you open your contacts and hand the device to him.

The keyboard clicks as he enters in his details, although he has to use the backspace several times until he types it correctly.

“There,” he hands it back to you. “Text me, and I’ll have your number too.”

Taking the phone, you press the message button and you begin to type.

“Hello Miguel. :) xx”

Then you hit send, hearing a deep buzz from his pocket just a moment later.

He knows it’s from you, but he looks anyway; the ‘xx’ catches his eye.

“Do you send kisses to all your Captains?” he asks as a pink hue glows on his cheeks, feeling the heat rising in his face; unable to tell if he is blushing from the chemistry or the beer.

“I don’t text any of my other Captains,” you reply, sounding more flirty than you originally intended.

You reach the door to your room but before you pull your keycard out of your bag, Miguel takes your hand and pulls it towards his lips. Your eyes widen at the surprise, but they soften when he plants a tender kiss against your knuckles.

Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash

“Well, I’m honoured to be the only Captain you have stored in your phone.”

Now it’s your turn for your face to go bright pink. It’s impossible to tell who’s blushing more.

Eventually he releases your hand, letting it fall back to your side.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, your voice almost non-existent.

He bids you goodnight in return and watches you enter your room before he unlocks his door.

Flipping his lightswitch, his room is fully lit once again. He flops down on his bed after kicking his flip-flops off and grabbing another beer from the minibar.

As he lays there, he thinks about his divorce and how much of a fuck up his marriage was. Then his mind visits the memory of you bumping into him that morning, and the smell of your

perfume. After that, he thinks about Peter saying that Miguel needs a good fuck; to not be so grumpy, he presumes. Perhaps he’s right. It has been a while… Speaking of… He feels a twitch under his cream coloured shorts and groans.

“Not now…” he grumbles to himself.

He’s too tired, too depressed and too drunk to pleasure himself right now, but it persists. Picking up his phone from his pocket, he tries to distract himself but sees your message when he unlocks it.

Another groan spills from his lips before he sets his beer down on his bedside table and unzips his shorts…

I hope you enjoyed Part 2.

Next Chapter >

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[feverinfeveroutfic]

Paradise | kinktober 2024 | “richer, richest”

prompt: bathtub sex

pairing: alex/one of my many girls

word count: 4071

song: “music to watch boys to” by lana del rey

contains: references to fiddler on the roof and fun in acapulco, banter, alex in a hammock, drinking, bathing and washing, handjobs

The cool night air kissed his forehead as he climbed into the hammock with a freshly made Manhattan in one hand. He had taken off his shirt and relished in the fact that Birmingham beckoned a bit of rain come the morning after. What a good show! And a hot one at that: though he never expected to sweat all that much given he didn’t wear all that much, he still stripped down to his underwear and took advantage of one of the canvas hammocks right outside of the hotel lobby. His curls had been drenched, and enough to where a few of them stuck onto the side of his neck as if he had just taken a shower, but he vowed to take one once his heartbeat calmed down and he had finished his drink as well.

Right before the show, he had told those two girls that he would be waiting for them in his room afterwards like Elvis in Acapulco, complete with a drink in hand.

He set the glass down on the edge of the canvas, right next to his hip, and he rested his other hand upon his bare chest. His fingers crept over his bare skin and the fine hair beginning to sprout up. His skin, though warm and glossy with sweat, seemed to glow under the golden light of the outside lamps, a tender soft porcelain as smooth like that of milk.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the lead of his band, with those thick molasses-colored coils flowing back from his head, or his twin guitarist, with that smooth jet-black hair that seemed to float over his head like water. All the hair and all the sweat and all the dark leather and denim that could possibly be a dream to him not even a few years before then.

He opened his eyes and thought about adding a little more to his relaxation session there in the hammock, especially when he had a big strong cocktail in hand. Something to get him a little more comfortable, especially once those two girls showed up. He sipped on the little black straw tucked in his glass as an airplane sailed overhead and a few passersby down below chattered in those big loud Brommie accents.

The drink hit his parched throat, when he caught the sound of a knock on the door in bedroom. He then cleared his throat and raised his head out from the head of the hammock.

“Come in!” he called out in the biggest, fullest voice he could do.

The door swung open, and Q sidled into the room, her hair pinned up against her head with sparkling black bobby pins adorned with what looked like little roses and her body wrapped up in a fitted black dress dotted with little skulls.

“Oh, hi,” he said as he lay his head back down on the canvas and put his hand back underneath his head. She strode on over to him with what looked like a dark red bottle of bubble bath in one hand, and her handbag in the other, and she stood in the doorway with a sly smirk on her face. It was there he realized the dots on her bobby pins were tiny bejeweled skulls: they sparkled like glitter under the golden light of the outside lights.

“Where’s our hibiscus?” he asked her with a gesture to the balcony.

“She’s talking up to one of your band mates,” Q replied, “the rhythm guitarist who has been sweet-talking her since yesterday.” She then showed him a little smile. “Hibiscus, is that what you called her?”

“Our girl who wants to take us to Hawai’i when the time comes,” he stated with a slight raise of one eyebrow. “And she’s been talking to him, really? I’m jealous.”

“He cooked her a big pastrami sandwich on some marbled rye bread yesterday,” Q said, and she twirled the bottle of bubble bath about in her fingers. “And you know us, too, babe—we like to do things from a multiple standpoint.”

“Not sure if he understands that,” he confessed in a low voice, and he sipped on his Manhattan a little more.

“She’ll be joining us once we get things moving along here, though,” Q vowed, and she showed him the bottle of bubble bath, and he had a feeling that it was going to smell of spices and her bloody kisses.

“I could use a little bath,” he confessed to her as he tucked his free hand behind his head. He rested the base of the glass on the side of his stomach, to which the condensation sent a chill over his body. It felt good, however, perhaps more so than the cooler British weather in comparison to the heat of the show from before.

“Would you like me to join you in the hammock?” she offered him as she set her purse down on the floor next to edge of the door, and she cradled the bottle of bubble bath in both hands as if she was offering him the sword to lend him into battle.

“I’m all kinds of sweaty, though,” he pointed out. “You saw us out there, it was like a sweatshop.”

“I’d chill in there with you,” Q insisted. “And I’m pretty damn sure Jay would cozy up next to you, too. Neither of us care how schweaty you are.”

He burst out laughing at that.

“Schweaty? Schweaty on the schlemiel with this old schlub?” And she laughed at that as well.

“Well, it’s just…” Q eyed his body, his long legs and the way that he held the glass of Manhattan next to his belly and kept one hand right under his head. The way a few tendrils of hair plastered themselves onto the side of his neck and his shoulder. He hooded his eyes at her, and he took another sip, that time he caught a taste of the bitters fused with the cherries.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and he gave the glass a slight swirl.

“Look at you,” she remarked with a gesture to his body.

He ran his tongue along his top row of teeth, along those buck teeth.

“Tevye. Look at you. Just… look at your body.”

“Look at me the way you look at life,” he said with a raise of his glass. “L’chaim!” He tugged the straw out of the cocktail and then drank down the rest of it in one fell swoop. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his curls.

“You couldn’t have bought me a Cosmo?” she asked him, slightly wounded.

“After we have our bath, I’ll take you downstairs for a quick little whipping up of a girly drink for one of my two girlies,” he promised her in a single breath. “If Jay comes back between now and then, we’ll get her a daiquiri.” He knitted his eyebrows at that. “She does like daiquiri, right?”

“She likes a daiquiri, she likes sex on the beach and a screaming orgasm, too,” Q told him with a straight face, to which he raised his eyebrows once again.

“She likes a screaming orgasm, really?” he chuckled. “As much as she likes to breathe and gasp and what have you. A nice chilly creamy screaming orgasm right between the teeth?”

Q nodded her head in enthusiasm.

“She likes amaretto and Kahlua,” she replied. “She likes the Caress, too. Irish cream with orange liqueur. They don’t call her big mama for no reason.”

“You got that right, woof,” he muttered, and he leaned over the edge of the hammock and set down the glass on the concrete of the balcony. Q stooped over and picked it up with one hand.

“By the way, I love that dress on you,” he told her.

“You do?” She tucked his empty glass in the hand with the bottle of bubble bath, and she ran that free hand down the hourglass shape of her body, right down her hip.

“I do. Very cute and makes me wanna touch you some more.”

“You wanna take a bath?” she offered him, and she showed him a playful little smile.

“You know it,” he told her as he swung the hammock a bit with nothing more than his hips; he could feel the sweat beading some more up on his brow. “You and me in that big tub with that big red bottle in one hand? Yes, please.” He swayed the hammock a bit more, and he rolled over onto the side of the canvas, albeit to no avail.

“You want some help?” Q offered him, and she set the bottle of bubble bath down next to her purse.

“Maybe,” he grunted out as the hammock kept on swinging underneath him. He rolled over onto his stomach and tried to put one foot down onto the concrete, but he was swinging too hard.

“Here, let me help you—” Q spoke too soon as the hammock swung back and he rolled right out onto the concrete floor of the balcony. But then he sat up all the way right as the underside of the canvas brushed against his head, and he showed her a toothy smile.

“That’s one way to do it,” he declared, and he rubbed his hands together. Q giggled at that, and she offered him her helping hands. He stumbled up to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair again. “Yeah, let’s have a bath.”

“Bath babe,” she decreed with a gentle pat of his svelte little belly, and then she picked up the empty glass, while he scooped up her purse and the bottle of bubble bath from the spot next to the door frame. He walked back into the room first, and she slid the door closed behind them. She then shook her head at the sight of his room, and he noticed her in the reflection of the mirror over the sink on the other side of the room.

“What?” he asked her.

“Such a messy boy!” she declared. “You couldn’t have made your bed?”

“I’m going to!” he insisted, and then he dropped his shorts right then. “First things first.”

“I should tell you that the bubble bath smells lovely,” Q assured him as she set his empty glass down on the table against the wall.

“Let us relish in it,” he declared with a slight shake of his bare ass to her. She lunged for him to give him a pinch, and then he scampered into the bathroom with the bottle in hand.

A big spacious room with a large L-shaped pearly white tub big enough for the two of them as well as Jay, his lead singer, and his rhythm guitarist, and he dropped the plug into the drain and switched on the faucet in the pivot part of the tub, cold first followed by the hot water.

“I reckon we don’t need that much water,” he said when he heard her walk into the room right behind him, to which she pinched his bare ass and then tickled the small of his back. He arched his back and stepped out of her way. She had unscrewed the bottle and poured a small dollop of the rich red bubble bath, the same color as lush, freshly pressed red wine.

“Okay, now… oh, wow, that does smell lovely,” he remarked. “Is that cinnamon?”

“Cardamom,” she replied as she set another pair of smaller dark red bottles on the edge of the tub next to the washcloths. “Jay tells me it’s a major aphrodisiac amongst other things.” She stuck her hand down into the water right under the faucet head to stimulate the suds. A small bubble floated up to his face, and he looked on at his own reflection. The fact the water was going to be warm only made him sweat a little more, but he knew for a fact that the long-haired boy in the reflection of the bubble was going to relish every part of it. He watched Q take off her dress from behind, to which she glimpsed over her shoulder at him and showed a little smile.

He eyed the full hourglass shape of her body as well as the way her ass hung right next to his head. Her dress fell to the carpeted bath mat on the floor, and then she followed it up with a drop of her bra down her arms and her panties down her legs.

The water rose up to where it looked as though they were going to have their legs completely submerged, and Q climbed in, right foot first, followed by the left. He watched her take her spot right next to the faucet, and she switched it off right then. Suds stacked up on top of each other all across the surface of the water, all of which smelled of that warm, delicate anise smell of cardamom.

“Come on in, baby,” she coaxed him as she began taking the bobby pins out of her hair. He set one foot in, followed by the other, to which he gasped at the feeling against his skin.

“Oh, my god, the water’s perfect,” he told her as he took his seat on the bottom. The surface of the water rose above his belly button so his thighs were completely covered in the suds. He leaned back as if to recline on the wall of the tub, but he instead lay down flat on his back. His curls submerged under the water, and the water whirred inside of his ears. The water surrounded the perimeter of his face, and he could feel his waist rising up from the water. He glanced to his left to see Q showing him a smile.

“It’s like you’re undergoing a baptism, babe,” she told him.

“I’m absolutely undergoing one of those,” he retorted back to her, and then he sat upright on the bottom of the tub. His hair stuck to his back, his ribs, and the backs of his arms for a few seconds before the curls sprang up against his skin. He cupped his hands into the water on his lap and splashed it up onto his face. He cupped his hands again, and he splashed more water onto his chest and shoulders. He shook his head about, and his hair plastered to his face and neck: he peeked through the drenched tendrils at her.

“You look like water,” she told him as her hair fell to her shoulders. She did the same thing as him, down onto her back so her hair soaked down to the roots. He eyed her breasts and the oblong shape of her nipples, and he wondered where this was going to go once she sat up and picked out a clean white washcloth from the edge of the tub.

“Shall I wash you?” she offered him as she placed the cloth into the water to soak it.

“Oh, you know I’d love that,” he told her as he slid closer to her; a few columns of suds collected around them, which in turn made him think of coral. He snickered to himself as Q reached behind her for one of the bottles on the edge of the tub.

“What’s so funny?” she asked him as she held the bottle in her free hand.

“Jay likes a screaming orgasm,” he chuckled. “Why am I under the impression that part of it has to do with the name, besides her love of the flavors.”

“Same with sex on the beach and the Caress,” Q said as she wiped a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Make everyone in the room blush.” He chuckled some more as Q poured a small dollop of the pearly white soap into the palm of her other hand blanketed in the washcloth. She rubbed the cloth against itself for a thick lather, which also smelled of cardamom.

“What’s in a sex on the beach, anyway?” he asked her as she rubbed the cloth across his shoulders to his upper arm.

“Peach, orange, and cranberry, if I remember correctly.” Gently, she washed down his arms, and he put them over his head so she could take care of his pits and his chest.” It’s been so long since I’ve had one, and it’s been a while since she had one, too.” He put his arms down as some of the soap dripped down his skin to the surface of the water. “We like slippery nipples, too. Irish cream with sambuca.”

“I’m gonna get so soaked with you girls,” he declared, and he let out a hearty laugh. He lifted his hands out of the water, only to find some suds on the backs of his hands. “Completely and totally soaked. And I like how you said ‘slippery nipples’ as the soap slid off my chest.”

“‘Cause your nipples are quite slippery, Tevye,” she retorted to him. “Let me get your back next.”

He bunched his hair as if to make a ponytail, and then he slung it over his shoulder. He closed his eyes as she ran the cloth across his back and down his spine and sides. The smell was warm and intoxicating, and the cloth swept over his hot, clammy skin as if to nourish him.

Once she was done, he lay back down in the water and rinsed off that way. He sat back up so she could wash his hair for him with the shampoo in the other red bottle.

“God, this is lovely,” he remarked as she slowly massaged her fingers over his scalp. “I kind of feel something coming on, if you catch my drift.” Q then rounded the side of his face, past the suds and the lather in his hair, for a kiss on his clear skin.

“Well… we’re here in the tub together. And it’s a big tub, too.”

“It is a big tub, this is true,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrows at her. “You wanna… maybe fool around and have a little fun here while we have some time alone? I’m not sure what we could do.”

“Jay’s the water master, too,” Q added. “She’d know what to do. I could give it to you in other ways, though.” She ran her fingers down through his hair, and he lay back down in the water again for a good rinse. All the while, she flexed her fingers over his chest and his belly as if to tickle him. He covered his belly with his hands and he let the water flow through his hair.

“Water is not really the best lube, though,” Q pointed out in a hollow voice as his ears were right above the surface of the water. “That won’t stop me from fondling you down, though. Fondling you down and giving you a little pain for not waiting for my best friend.”

He licked his lips and flashed her a wink.

“And it shouldn’t, either.” She then reached over for the closest pile of suds and cloaked his hips and thighs with it. She reached down under the pile of suds so he could not see what she was doing. He stayed leaned back and let his chest and shoulders sink further down to the water. The tub was shallow enough that he could partially float on his back but at the same time, he could keep his ass and the backs of his thighs down on the bottom.

He could feel her fingers groping over his skin, and the water acted as a protective layer between the two of them. A layer of makeshift latex over his skin. The feeling that he had sunk back into the warmth of the water as if he was floating under the kiss of the sun.

He could feel her other hand running the washcloth down the top of his thigh, all the way down to his knee. The suds and the soap gave her more protection than his closed eyes ever would for her.

His ears sank below the water: it rushed into his ears to where it sounded as though he floated about in the calmest part of the ocean. The edge of the water kissed the perimeter of his face again, and he spread out his arms on either side of him as if he was in fact undergoing a baptism.

Q ran the cloth down the top of his other thigh, and all the while, she never let go of his dick with her one hand, and as a result, he was well on his way to growing as firm and full as he could let it. The water washed over his legs to rinse off the soap, and then she began fondling him even more. She kneaded on the base of his shaft, down close to his body as if she was kneading dough. Her fingers grazed over the tender, sensitive skin down inside of his thighs, and he knew it was to add to the feeling. These girls knew how to touch him, and Q always surprised him to top it all off.

She ran both hands up his shaft to the head as if she was playing a harp, and she wriggled her fingers against his head. The suds surrounded them like clouds, especially once she straightened out his shaft and held him by the head. He opened his mouth, and yet no sound emerged at first.

She held onto the tip with two fingers, and then she very delicately ran her fingertips up the inside of his shaft: some suds ran down his skin to the space between his thighs. It was like being fondled by clouds while floating on the ocean. He finally raised his head out of the water so he could make that low moan from the back of his throat all for her.

She ran the tip of one finger around the rim of the hole at the end, which in turn brought out a bucking from his hips. She rested a hand on his belly to steady him, and at that point, he opened his eyes. He glanced at her and the devilish look on her face and the twinkle in her eye. She showed him the tip of her tongue, and then she rested one finger on his lips to silence him, even though he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Hold still,” she commanded. She held onto him with one hand, and he realized he was still entrenched in a blanket of those warm, spicy suds.

He gasped from the feeling of her fingers down inside of his head. Her fingernail against the soft, tender skin up inside of him, and he writhed about a bit under the water. He could feel his hips bucking again from that grating sensation. It gave him more of a pinch than her fingers on his ass or the way she flexed her fingers over his belly.

Q stuck her finger down inside of the hole, and she grated her nail against the inside of him. With her other hand, she dug her nails onto his shaft, and he gritted his teeth from the sensation. It hurt but it felt so good. She treated him to a bath and yet he got greedy, and now he was taking it.

He could feel himself about to get off, and she slipped her finger out of the head. She cupped her hands around his shaft and she blanketed more suds around him, and he knew it was to buoy the fact he was coming there in the bathtub.

Q then lay down in the water next to him and stroked his chest down with the palm of her hand. He finally opened his eyes and rolled his head over for a look into her face and the fact she was dipping the crown of her head into the water to drench her hair.

“Shall I do you now?” he offered her.

“I had a shower earlier but—” She leaned in for a kiss on his cherry lips. “You are so sweet, though. Let’s dry off and go find our big mama and see if she’s having a sex on the beach with your twin guitarist.”

[whenthasunhits]

if i'm not married with a baby by 30 i'm buying a beachside bungalow a bunch of guns a metal detector many acapulco shirts and bikinis and i'll die of alcohol poisoning on the beach nobody will notice for hours don't ask me how i'll afford this

[alienelvisobsession]

The Besties Awards - Elvis Movies

These are the results of the The Besties Awards - Elvis Movies, a poll that we created in our Elvis Discord. I shared the link in a previous post, so some tumblr members have voted as well! The results are surprising! Here’s a link with the details if you want to know the nominations and the percentages each one got. FUCK MARRY KILL

Fuck - Vince Everett (Jailhouse Rock)

RUNNER-UP: Dr. Sideburns (Change of Habit)

Marry - Toby Kwimper (Follow that Dream)

RUNNER-UP: Dr. Sideburns (Change of Habit)

Kill - Jodie Tatum (Kissin’ Cousins)

RUNNER-UP: Josh Morgan (Kissin’ Cousins)

FAVORITE MOVIE

Follow that Dream

RUNNERS-UP: King Creole and Jailhouse Rock (tie)

FAVORITE SCENE

“It ain’t tactics honey, that’s just the beast in me” (Jailhouse Rock)

RUNNER-UP: Toby’s association test (Follow that Dream)

FAVORITE ELVIS CHARACTER

Toby (Follow that Dream)

RUNNERS-UP: Deke Rivers (Loving You), Danny Fisher (King Creole) and Vince Everett (Jailhouse Rock) (tie)

BEST ACTING

King Creole

RUNNER-UP: Wild in the Country

BEST CO-STAR

Ann-Margret as Rusty (Viva Las Vegas)

RUNNER-UP: Carolyn Jones aka Morticia as Ronnie (King Creole)

BEST “GOOFIE ELVIS” MOMENT

Tulsa babysitting Tiger (GI Blues)

RUNNER-UP: Chad with Maile in the car (Blue Hawaii)

BEST KISS

Elvis and therapist (Wild in the Country)

RUNNER-UP: “I’m coming all unglued” kiss on the couch (Jailhouse Rock)

BEST CHEMISTRY

Ann-Margret (Viva Las Vegas)

RUNNER-UP: Vicky Tiu (It Happened at the World’s Fair)

BEST MEME

“Weirdos, man. Weirdos” (Change of Habit)

RUNNER-UP: Gomez Addams reaction meme (Frankie and Johnny)

BEST WFT SCENE

“Little Elvis” gets excited (Girls! Girls! Girls!)

RUNNER-UP: The Dogman (Live a Little, Love a Little)

BEST OUTFIT

Badass look with leather jacket (Roustabout)

RUNNER-UP: white “silky gangster” suit (The Trouble with Girls)

WORST OUTFIT

Yellow sweater (Frankie and Johnny)

RUNNER-UP: Baseball stitch suit (Clambake)

BEST BEACHWEAR

Denim shorts and open shirt (Follow that Dream)

RUNNER-UP: White swim trunks and polo shirts (Blue Hawaii)

HORNIEST MOVIE

Live a Little, Love a Little

RUNNER-UP: Viva Las Vegas

BEST HAIR

Vince’s Hair (Jailhouse Rock)

RUNNER-UP: Danny’s floppy hair (King Creole)

WORST HAIR

Blonde wig (Kissin’ Cousins)

RUNNER-UP: Spock haircut (Change of Habit)

HOTTEST SCENE

“The Walls Have Bon… Ears” (Girls! Girls! Girls!)

RUNNER-UP: Greg takes a shower (Live a Little, Love a Little)

HOTTEST COWBOY

Pacer (Flaming Star)

RUNNER-UP: Jesse (Charro)

BEST MUSICAL NUMBER

Jailhouse Rock (Jailhouse Rock)

RUNNER-UP: Bossa Nova Baby (Fun in Acapulco)

BEST MOVIE SONG

Trouble (King Creole) and Jailhouse Rock (tie)

RUNNER-UP: Edge of Reality (Live a Little, Love a Little)

BEST FIGHT

Toby takes down gangsters (Follow That Dream)

RUNNER-UP: Deke Rivers “Hey, sideburns” fight (Loving You)

[pocketfulofelviss]

03/14/1963: Elvis in a promotional shot for the movie “Fun in Acapulco.” Elvis could keep two black silk shirts and the Flamenco accessories that he used in the movie. 🇲🇽 💃 ☀️ * #elvispresley #presley #theking #graceland #elvis #smile #love #idol #music #iconic #vintage #style #classy #vintagefashion #kingofmusic #rockandroll #sideburns #blessedsoul #rip #elvisthepelvis #memphis #tupelo #soldier #elvislegacy #epe https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpw7B47sGe0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[littlequeenies]

Alberto Marozzi's memories about Pam

part 4

We went out and I accompanied her everywhere for shopping: at American Express for traveller's cheques, in a shop where they made tailor-made boots, in via Sistina by my friend Michele Di Ceglie; then we went to an antique shop where she bought an antique cradle for a baby she hoped to have from Jim Morrison (and who was never born), to some shirts and other places I don't remember. You could see that she was very rich, I was very poor: I earned 60,000 lire a month, I was a skilled worker and I had been working in the factory for five years, I lived with my mother Palmina who helped me with her miserable pension and a few hours of slavery with a family near our home.

I took her back to the hotel around 20:00 and before entering she told me that in the evening we could not see each other because she had a dinner with this American friend of hers who perhaps was a companion made available to her by Jim. I felt bad, I was overcooked, I would not have left her even for a second but unfortunately I did not even insist.

The next day, in the afternoon, I went to pick her up at the hotel, I accompanied her to the usual shops to pick up some things she had ordered the previous day and in the evening I took her to eat a pizza in Trastevere, where we also had a black and white Polaroid. In these two days with Pamela I had noticed an object that she always wore, a large silver bracelet that opened like a shell to be put on the wrist and that represented two dragon heads; it was very strange and mysterious, so much so that I asked her where she had found it. She told me that Jim had bought it in Acapulco and given it to her as an engagement gift.

We had a wonderful evening with the usual tour of Rome by night. I brought her back to the hotel without making her any kind of proposal, also because it seemed to me already too much what she had previously granted me, who knows for what game of fate just to me. Pamela had, with two days, erased all my past, my present and my future and this was enough for me. She asked me if the next day I could accompany her to the airport because she had to go to London to meet with Jim who had to do a concert at the Round House with the Doors supporters, the Jefferson Airplane (mythical); I said yes.

🌟 Very special thanks to A who sent me the book pages from Alberto Marozzi's memories meeting Pam 🌟

[pinkcheetahvintage]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Men’s Vintage Cotton Linen Rainbow Striped Collar Button Up Pride Shirt XL.

[10h3l]

I don't think I ever showed the class my Touhou Girls Go To Acapulco t-shirt

[mosquitocountyshirtco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: DISNEY CRUISE LINE T Shirt sz adult L Panama Canal Crossing itinerary 2005 Magic.

[blogjski975]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Harley Davidson Black USA American Steel Acapulco Mexico Short Sleeve T-shirt.