Chapter 15: Ha’aina Male’

Thursday had been an extraordinary day for the Olivers. Following their afternoon anal sex, the couple had needed a long nap to recuperate. Later that evening, they dressed for dinner, and Brenda had put on her new white linen mini dress. She looked at herself in the mirror over the dresser but was even more nervous about the dress than when trying it on in the store. The halter-top was cut low in the back, and had a deep V cut in the front, exposing her almost to the belly button, and the skirt portion seemed even lighter than she remembered. If there was any sort of breeze, the entire island would see her bare ass!

“I should never have bought this!” she said quietly, looking at her image in the mirror.

Steve had a totally different take on it. “You look hot!” he exclaimed.

“Steve, I can’t wear this out!” she protested.

“You look great!”

“Steve?”

He came around beside her and leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms. “You asked me the other day what my fantasy was. This is it. You in a dress like that, a pair of high heels, and nothing else. This is it! You wanted to know how to turn me on. This is it!”

“Jesus, Steve! Everybody is going to see my ass, and if I bend over wrong, my tits are going to pop out of the top!”

“They won’t see your ass, and don’t bend over! Please, Bren, I am begging you! Put on your sandals, you know, the high-heeled ones, and let’s go to dinner.”

Brenda continued protesting, but her husband talked her into wearing the dress to dinner. She did tell him, however, that the bit with the tube of lube was out; her ass was a bit sore, and that was off the menu for a few days. Steve laughed at that and dressed nicely, to escort her properly. More than a few heads turned to watch Brenda move around the resort and Haka Nuva, and when they walked back from town, she even allowed him to pull her dress up and gently rub her ass a few times. She practically raped him as soon as they got back to the room.

Brenda also mentioned a fantasy of her own, to Steve over dinner that night. “Steve, would you do something for me?”

“Sure, Bren, what?”

She lowered her voice. “Could you shave, down there, I mean?”

It took Steve a minute to understand her, but then his eyes popped open. “You mean...”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “You want me to shave my cock?”

She nodded. “The whole thing. Your cock, your balls, everything.”

Steve just stared at her and shook his head in disbelief. He looked around the restaurant theatrically and asked, “Here? Now?”

She swatted his arm. “Steve! No! Maybe after we get home.”

“What in the world brought this on?”

She blushed and shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. I mean, that seems to be the style in some of the dirty movies we’ve watched, and the other day, when we watched Babs and Tully, I saw he was like that. I don’t know, maybe it looks bigger that way.” She blushed as she said that. “I bet I wouldn’t get hair stuck in my teeth!” she whispered.

Steve just rolled his eyes. “Now I have heard everything!”

“Well?”

“I don’t know, Brenda. Let’s talk about this when we get back home.”

“Please?”

“Brenda, the last thing a guy wants south of the border is a razor blade! Besides, I’d feel weird at the gym,” he complained.

“Just tell them your wife likes it like that, and she doesn’t want to get hair in her mouth.” Brenda grinned as she said that.

Steve just groaned and promised to think about it. He already knew he would probably end up giving in.

Friday was a more normal day, but both Brenda and Steve knew that their definition of ‘normal’ had changed over the course of the last week. Neither of them thought they would ever go back to what they now considered their bland and mundane sex lives when they returned home. Things had changed. They had changed.

“So, what exactly is this thing we’re going to?” asked Steve Oliver. He and Brenda were having breakfast down at the Inn’s restaurant.

“I’m not completely sure,” admitted Brenda. “It’s some sort of island ceremony. Babs was the one who invited us along. She said they always attend it when they come here, and thought we would like it, too. She invited Liz and Bob, but they are leaving early Saturday morning and this thing runs late. They’re going into town to experience Captain Jack’s, instead.”

Steve nodded. “So, the plan for us is?”

Brenda shrugged and smiled. “Not much. The island thing isn’t until after dinner tonight. Until then, it’s just a normal day. You’re done with your sample collecting, right?”

“I’m in good shape on that. I’ve only got some cataloging and organizing left to do. Mind you, once we get back, I’ll probably spend the rest of the year sorting through it all, but that will be back home.”

“So, did you discover anything new?”

Steve thought for a second. “I am not completely sure yet, but some of the stuff is kind of interesting. I need to think about it for a bit.”

“So today, the beach?”

He shrugged and smiled. “Might as well. I need to work on the computer for a bit, but after that, well, we’re on vacation. We can do vacation stuff. Work on your suntan - I am a certified oil boy, remember - and pick up some souvenirs for the kids.”

Brenda chuckled at that. “I saw some perfect t-shirts for the kids. They said, ‘My parents went to a tropical paradise and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!’”

Steve smiled at that. “Those would be perfect, especially for Heather. I wonder if she’ll still be alive, or if your parents will have killed her by the time we get home.”

“As long as they bury the body, I won’t be all that picky,” agreed Brenda. “I just hope that someday she has lots of girls, and they are all just like her!”

“The same goes for Junior! I just want one grandson to carry on the family name, but he needs a bunch of daughters, too! Teach him some humility if nothing else.”

Brenda snorted an agreement. “Okay. Why don’t we catch the shuttle into town after breakfast, do some last-minute sightseeing and shopping, then come back here. We can hit the beach after lunch and otherwise just lay around.”

“Works for me,” her husband agreed.

After they finished their breakfast, the Olivers headed back up to their room to get ready for going into town. Steve let Brenda go ahead of him, partly out of courtesy, but also because he liked watching her walk in her short skirt. Ever since she had decided on the new look of skirts and tops, and no underwear, he had been enjoying the view. Today was what he considered the new normal, a plain denim skirt just a couple of inches above the knee, and a not-too-tight, not-too-loose t-shirt above it. She was also wearing flat sandals, and with her hair pulled back in a short pigtail, she looked almost ten years younger than her true age.

Up in the room first Steve and then Brenda used the bathroom. Brenda took longer, and when she came out her husband could see that she had touched up her lip gloss and brushed out her hair. “What?” she asked, seeing him smile.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

Steve went to her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her and rubbing her rear through the skirt. “You just look perfect. I don’t know what it is, but there is something about your new look that just seems right. I just hope you... we ... don’t lose all this when we get back home.”

Brenda gave him a fierce hug back and laughed as she felt an erection pushing back. “That’s for later! Shopping now, fooling around later!”

“And the mood sours even before we leave the islands!” he mock-complained.

“Give me a break! Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the door. Steve stopped and grabbed his key card from where he had dropped it and followed Brenda out the door.

The rest of the morning was spent shopping for inexpensive souvenirs for family and friends. The kids got some snarky t-shirts, as did Brenda’s parents (‘My kids went to paradise and stuck me with the grandkids!’), along with some actual nice mementos. Brenda showed Steve a bin of puka puka roots. He suggested getting one for her mother, at which point Brenda turned bright red and started to stammer. That idea was quickly iced. Later, they had lunch at a small shop and caught a shuttle back to the hotel.

Back in the room, Steve made some comments about needing to rest before going into the water, but Brenda laughed him off. “Get your swimsuit on! You can rest if you want, but I need to catch a few rays!” She grabbed something from a dresser drawer and went into the bathroom before Steve could protest. She returned a few minutes later in a very small gold and black bikini to find her husband pulling on his swim trunks.

“You sure you don’t want to rest first?” he asked. “You shouldn’t go swimming for two hours after eating.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale,” she replied.

“You sure about that? I mean, I read it on the internet, and you know that’s always true.”

Brenda groaned and pulled on her jersey cover-up. “I’ll take my chances. Let’s go!”

Steve gave a theatrical sigh and grabbed his computer bag. He stuffed his laptop inside and said, “Okay, but while you are getting rid of your tan lines, I need to do some more work. Let’s go down to the bar outside, grab a table, and I can work and steal glances of your tits every few minutes while we drink something made with rum and pineapples.”

Brenda laughed at that. “Is that what they call multitasking? Work, rum, and tits?” She grabbed her floppy hat and sunglasses and slipped her sandals on. “Come on, computer boy, let’s go.”

Multitasking involved them sitting at a table near the edge of the beach, with Steve setting his laptop up under a beach umbrella while Brenda maneuvered a chaise lounge over and sunned herself topless. She teased her husband frequently about the need to keep applying lotion, asking him if she was getting darker and would he please look and check whether her tan lines were fading. This continued for a couple of hours, after which Steve packed up his laptop. Leaving it in its bag in a small alcove behind the bar, he followed Brenda into the ocean, where they played grab ass for a bit.

Then they grabbed their gear and headed back to their room. Grab ass turned into a full-blown make-out and sex session, first in the shower, where they washed the sand off and Steve took Brenda from behind, and then out on the bed, in a more comfortable horizontal position. Afterwards, they dozed until dinner time.

They woke when the room phone buzzed a bit before six. Steve grabbed it and said, “Hello?”

“Hi, Steve. It’s Babs. Brenda there?”

“Hold on.” He held the phone out towards Brenda. “It’s for you; it’s Babs.”

Brenda grabbed the phone, threatening to tangle him up in the cord, so Steve crawled out from under it and headed for the bathroom. It was time to dress and get some dinner. He heard Brenda making plans for the evening with Babs.

After his wife hung up, Steve asked, “So, what is the dress code for this thing tonight?”

“Babs says it’s casual. We can wear whatever, since after we get there, we put on native stuff.”

Steve gave his wife a curious look. “Native stuff?”

She nodded. “That’s what I said, too. She says that it’s a reenactment of some ancient island ceremony, so we need to dress like native islanders. There’s a locker room where we can change, and they provide the outfits.”

“Sounds kind of screwy, if you ask me.”

“You just behave. She swears they love it, and we will, too. Maybe we can get a photo in our native outfits.”

Steve thought about that for a second and shook his head. Their son, Steve Junior, was in the Boy Scouts, and was a member of the Order of the Arrow, where everybody had to dress up like Native Americans occasionally. Steve Junior was also skinny as a rail, and a breechcloth and an open deerskin vest was not a good look on him. “We’ll see,” he told Brenda.

“We simply need to be out in front of the Inn at half past seven. A shuttle van will take us there. So, dinner now, then be out at the front at seven thirty.”

Brenda pulled a skirt and t-shirt on, and Steve wore some cargo shorts and a sport shirt. They went down to the restaurant and had some mahi mahi, then went back to their room for a few minutes. They were in the lobby in plenty of time for their pickup.

Babs and Tully were already sitting in armchairs in the lobby, dressed almost identically to Brenda and Steve, though Babs was wearing a flowered print blouse, not a t-shirt. Next to come in were two couples who they had seen around the resort together, and Steve, at least, was fairly certain they were some kind of a foursome. They were in their late twenties, and the women, a pair of pretty blondes, seemed to switch partners at times. Steve figured it wasn’t his business; he had more than enough problems with one woman, let alone coping with two! He never did catch their names. Next to enter was a young couple about the age of Liz and Bob Cramer, in their early twenties and obviously on their honeymoon; their names were Whitney and John.

A largish shuttle van pulled up. The Polynesian driver got out and came into the lobby. “Hi there! Everybody here for the Ha’aina Male’ Experience?”

Steve and Brenda weren’t the only ones there looking at each other in confusion, but Babs and Tully stood up. “I don’t know how many you have on your list, but we’re here,” said Babs.

“Well, we’ll figure it out. My name is Makoa and I’ll be your driver and one of your guides tonight.” He lifted a stack of clipboards and continued, “Let’s just go down the list and see who’s here.” He looked at his list. “The Winstons?”

Babs waved her hand. “That’s us!”

Makoa smiled at them. “Loha! You’ve been with us before. Welcome back!” He handed them a clipboard. “You know the drill. Next ... the Olivers.” Steve and Brenda raised their hands. “Loha! As I am sure everybody here knows by now, that simply means hello in Haka Lelo, our language here in the Maltesanos.” He handed them a clipboard with an attached pen. “Please sign at the bottom to finish registering. And next...”

Makoa continued working through his list, handing out clipboards. One couple was missing, and he skipped over them, but they showed up a couple of minutes later; Marge and Jerry were in their late forties and were on their honeymoon also, but at one point they laughed and said they had both been married before and were hoping the second time would be luckier. Makoa promised them that the Ha’aina Male’ Experience would help with that.

Some of the group they had already paid online, but for others, like the Olivers, Makoa simply processed their credit card with his smartphone. He then retrieved the clipboards and forms and led everybody back outside to the van. “Sit wherever you like. The Ha’aina Male’ is very close to here, maybe five minutes away.” Everybody climbed in, though because of the number of benches, not everybody was next to their spouse. For five minutes, it wouldn’t be critical.

Once loaded, Makoa started the engine and put the van in gear. He headed back out onto Haka Nuva Road and continued eastward a few miles. Then he turned onto another road for about a half mile before pulling into a driveway. A hundred yards farther, he pulled into a small parking lot, parked, and turned off the engine. “We’re here. Please stay together after getting out of the van. It’s dark, but the path is well lighted, and we will go down together.” He opened his door and got out, and the rest of the group climbed out as well.

Steve looked around. One pathway headed into some brush, but a larger and better lit pathway headed down a slope to where he could hear the ocean. That was where the Experience, whatever that was, was probably held. He was proved right when Makoa said, “Okay, if everybody would follow me, we’ll get down to the beach in just a minute or two. Then you’ll be able to experience the Ha’aina Male’ firsthand.” He turned and started down the wider of the two pathways. Brenda took her husband’s hand and tugged him along. As they headed down the pathway Steve got a look at the lighting and was surprised to see that it wasn’t lighting at all; the light was given off by bottle-gas-fueled tiki torches on large stands. He thought that made sense, considering they were on an island without natural gas.

After about a hundred yards or so, the pathway opened onto the beach, with several more of the gas-fueled tiki torches set in a semi-circle around what looked like a bonfire that hadn’t been lit yet. Makoa led them into the semi-circle and said, “This is Samantha. She’ll be your hostess, and I’m going to turn you over to her.”

Heads turned to Samantha, and more than a few people were surprised. Rather than a Polynesian, Samantha was blonde and blue-eyed, and looked more like a Nordic princess than an islander. Still, when she spoke up, she had the mild cadence of the natives. She was also dressed like an islander, in a short grass skirt and several lava lava flower leis and was barefoot. “Thank you all for coming. My name is Samantha Kalani, and Makoa is my husband. He’ll be back in just a couple of minutes, and we can get started then. In the meantime, let me just say that while I know I don’t look it, I am an islander, too. My parents moved to the Maltesanos before I was born, and I’ve lived here my entire life. So, you’re definitely going to experience an authentic Ha’aina Male’.”

She led the group off to the side, outside of the semi-circle of torches, where a couple of young teens were finishing setting things up. “Now, we do have some refreshments available. We have some light island snacks and fruit...” she said, gesturing to several large trays with sliced up fruit and sweets, “And we have these two punches. Now, the red bowl has rum punch, and the green bowl is similar, but is non-alcoholic. Feel free to have some punch and snacks while we wait for Makoa to return, but don’t have too much of the red punch. That’s part of the Ha’aina Male’ ceremony and we don’t want you falling asleep!” she laughed. Another young woman was standing behind the snack table, also dressed in a grass skirt and leis, and she lifted up small red and green plastic cups.

Brenda looked curiously at Steve, who simply nodded assent. Neither was all that hungry, but he stepped up and accepted a cup of the red punch. He passed it to Brenda and took one for himself. Steve sipped it and it was just as advertised, a typical island fruit punch spiked with rum. He stepped back from the table as others moved forward.

At about that time, Makoa returned to the group, only he had shed his shorts and t-shirt and was now bare-chested and wearing what looked like a wrap skirt of some sort. He also had a necklace, which was nothing more than a puka puka root hanging from twine. Brenda smiled, since he looked quite muscular and attractive. He went up to Samantha and stood next to her and gave her a quick one-armed hug around her bare shoulders. He said, “Thank you all for coming. I hope you don’t mind my changing. I am now wearing what is called a muu’maa, which is a traditional island skirt for men. For our ceremony tonight, we will all be wearing traditional island garb, but I always feel kind of silly driving the van into town dressed this way.” He laughed at that, and the group joined in.

“Also, I know my wife has already mentioned this, but I just want to say it again. I know she looks like a member of the Swedish Bikini Team, but she’s just as much of a native as I am, and she knows our heritage and rituals as well as I do. So why don’t we all move over towards the fire ring, and she can begin explaining what will happen tonight.” Makoa gestured towards the semi-circle of torches around the bonfire and Samantha led the way. After the group was spaced out around the wood in the fire pit, she stepped in front, and Makoa moved up alongside her.

“Again, thank you all for coming,” she said. “The Ha’aina Male’ is a ceremony that dates back to the first settling of the Maltesano Islands by our ancestors and tells the tale of the meeting of the two main gods of the islands. Whether you consider it a religion or mythology, it is part of our culture, even to this day. Elements of the Ha’aina Male’ are even included in traditional island marriage ceremonies, but don’t worry. For those of you who aren’t married, or at least not to who you brought, it’s not legally binding!” There was some laughter out of the group at that, since it seemed that the group of four was definitely not married.

Makoa took over. “The Ha’aina Male’ tells the story of the two principal gods here in the islands. That would be Kanalo, the god of the sea, and Kane’, the goddess of the sky. As you can imagine, on a tropical island, the most important gods to pray to would be the sea and sky gods. In any case, the legend is that one day at the dawn of time, Kanalo saw the sky goddess, Kane’, and fell instantly in love with her. So, since the sea and the sky can never meet, he first created the land, Haka Nuva to be precise. Then, with the land created, he could come out of the sea and Kane’ could come down from the sky and they could meet.”

“As part of the Ha’aina Male’ Experience, you will be reenacting the meeting between Kanalo and Kane’,” said Samantha. “Theirs was a very fiery and passionate romance, since Kane’ ended up giving birth to all of the islands and all of the plants and animals. Trust me, ladies, you won’t have to live that part of the story. However, there are going to be some adult themes. While I know you all were told this, if you feel uncomfortable, you may leave. You can always go back to the van until after the ceremony ends, then go back to the resort with the others.”

“Or, if you don’t mind a hike, we are only about an hour away from the resort on foot,” added Makoa. “Just go down towards the blue and wet stuff and turn right. We are just up the beach a few miles from the Haka Nuva Inn.” He pointed towards the ocean as he said that. “It’s pretty unusual, though, that people don’t get into the spirit of the ceremony.”

Steve and several others glanced towards the ocean. Though the full moon had passed by a few days ago, the sky was cloudless and there was still plenty of moonlight, and the beach and ocean were clearly visible.

“Ha’aina Male’ is more than just the legend of two gods meeting. It is also about the spirit of what is called hana huna. In Haka Lelo, the language of the Haka’po’e, the people of the islands, hana means giving and huna means keeping. Hana huna refers to the act of giving but keeping at the same time,” said Samantha.

The young woman from the youngest couple asked, “Do you mean sharing?”

Samantha smiled. “That’s actually very close. In Haka Lelo, hona means sharing. It’s a subtle difference, and mostly refers to physical items. So, when our children are sharing their toys - which is rare! - that is hona, but when I both give my love to Makoa but keep my love for Makoa, that is hana huna.”

Steve glanced at his cup and realized it was empty. He wondered if he could get some more but didn’t want to interrupt things. He was glad he didn’t, because Makoa said, “So, let me tell you how things will go from here. First, we are going to take you to the locker room, where you can change. Ladies, you will be in grass skirts, and fellows, you will be in muu’maas like me. Afterwards, we will return here and start the ceremony. First, Kanalo - that will be me, by the way - will start the fire and then call out for Kane’ - that’s Samantha - to come down and meet him. We will all meet here around the fire.”

Samantha took over and said, “Then the men will each prepare their own island and fire. If you look behind you, you will find that this section of the beach has been divided into small areas.”

Steve and Brenda turned around. At the edge of the light from the torches, small piles of kindling and wood were set in individual fire rings. Beyond them, there were low sand berms that split the beach into a half dozen or more little sections in an arc around the bonfire area.

Samantha continued, “Each couple will have their own section and fire. The man will first take some of these woven grass mats and lay them in his section, which reenacts the creation of the island. He will then take a torch and set his fire alight. Don’t worry about starting a fire; we’ve cheated a bit and sprinkled some charcoal lighter on each of them.” There was some laughter at that.

“After that, the man and woman will alternate giving each other gifts. The woman will bring the man some rum punch. In that we are breaking from tradition. The traditional island drink would be fermented coconut milk, but I have to tell you, fermented coconut milk is a bit of an acquired taste, and certainly one I’ve never acquired. I think you will all prefer the rum and fruit punches,” Samantha laughed.

Makoa took over at that point. “The woman will also share with the man one of her leis, and the man will share with the woman his puka puka necklace.” He lifted his necklace and showed the group, and there were some titters of amusement from some of them. “He will also give her some puka puka oil - that will be over here on the table - and they will alternate giving each other a massage with the oil. There will be some other gifts as well. Eventually the fires will burn down, and the ceremony will be over, and everybody can get dressed again and we’ll head back to the resort.” He took the empty cups from everybody.

“So, let’s all head over to the locker rooms and change into our island outfits,” finished Samantha. She waved them towards her, turned, and walked along the beach and up a small path. As soon as they were out of sight of the beach, they found a small wooden building. “Ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right. Inside you will find a small bathroom section, a small shower, and several lockers. Take everything off and put on a grass skirt or muu’maa, and we can get started.” She led the ladies inside their section and Makoa led the men to the other side of the building.

Once inside the locker room, Steve looked around. At best, it was what he would call spartan. One section had a concrete floor with open shower stalls and bathroom facilities. The locker area consisted of several sections of what looked like high-school gym lockers and some benches bolted together using spare parts from Ikea, and wasn’t floored, but was sandy. A small table held a pile of muu’maas and some puka puka necklaces.

Not sure what to do first, Steve went to the bathroom area and peed into a toilet. He flushed and returned to the locker area and selected an empty locker. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his sandals, and then stopped for a second. Looking around he saw Tully simply strip naked and grab one of the muu’maas. Another man, the fellow in his late forties, did the same thing, but he kept on his underpants. Makoa chided him with a comment about the ancient islanders not having underpants and wagged a finger at him. Blushing, the man peeled off his underpants and tossed them in his locker, and quickly wrapped a muu’maa around himself. Shrugging, Steve did the same, and was delighted to find that while the islanders didn’t wear underwear, they did have Velcro; he didn’t have to find a way to tie it around himself. He adjusted it above his hips to keep it from slipping. Makoa handed him a puka puka necklace, and Steve put that around his neck. A key on a piece of twine was in the lock on the locker, so he locked his locker and put the key around his neck as well.

Steve gravitated over towards Tully and looked at himself in a mirror. “I look like an extra in a really bad jungle movie from the Sixties! The natives are restless and that sort of thing.” Tully nodded in agreement and grinned, and then said something in his indecipherable slang that Steve took as an assent. The turned back to the others.

Makoa smiled. “Very good. You all look like authentic Haka’po’e’ gods now. Now, let’s go outside and greet your goddesses.”

Over on the ladies’ side, the facilities were almost as basic. Only Brenda and Babs were going commando, and they were the only ones to strip down without any embarrassment. The youngest girl, the one who was about Liz Cramer’s age, was wearing bra and panties under her clothes, but she stripped them off, and the two women who were friends were wearing panties only but were braless, and they stripped down, too. Only the older woman, in her late forties, refused to strip naked, and kept her bra and panties on under her leis and grass skirt.

Babs whispered to Brenda, who had the locker next to her, “There’s always somebody who doesn’t quite get it to start with.”

“I can see how some people would be nervous about being seen,” commented Brenda.

Babs shrugged. “Don’t say you weren’t warned. This is an adult event. Besides, the only person who is going to be looking at you is Steve, and he won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Make sure you flash him a little skin to keep him interested.” Brenda laughed at that, and Babs continued, “Besides, it’s the same for the men. Nobody wears anything under their skirts, either.” The two women giggled at that and helped in adjusting the ties on their short grass skirts. Before leaving the locker room, Brenda adjusted her lava lava leis to maximize coverage up top.