Nico

Dear diary,
Arriving in Rio de Janeiro, the first thing I wanted — no, needed — to do was to feel the sand between my toes and the ocean breeze on my skin. The city was alive, pulsing with heat and rhythm, and the beach was like a living postcard — golden sand, turquoise waves, and bodies basking under the relentless sun.I grabbed a cold drink to go and strolled along the boardwalk, letting the music of the city wash over me. That’s when I saw him.Sitting on a rock like some wild, untamed creature was a Brazilian god — his hair curly and sun-bleached, his chest lightly covered with dark hair, his entire presence radiating raw masculinity. His skin glistened with salt and sweat, muscles perfectly defined.He locked eyes with me and smiled — a mischievous, knowing smile that sent a thrill through my entire body.
Before I could react, he stood up, sprinted toward the sea, and dove in with effortless grace.I watched, mesmerized, as he swam further and further out. The sun hit the water just right, making his body shimmer like molten gold. Then, suddenly, he waved at me — frantic, desperate. He looked like he was drowning.Without thinking, I dropped my drink and ran into the surf, my heart pounding. I swam as fast as I could, panic surging through me. When I finally reached him, breathless and shaking, he grinned — that same mischievous smile.It was all an act.​“I’m Nico,” he said, his thick Brazilian accent curling around the syllables like a caress.
“I just wanted to be alone with you… and this was the only way I could think of.”I was furious — ready to turn back — but before I could, he pounced, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me under the water. For a heartbeat, there was silence, the world muted beneath the waves. His face was so close to mine, his eyes burning with wild energy.And then he kissed me.
Underwater.It was raw, magical, like nothing I had ever felt before. The ocean around us seemed to hum with electricity.​When we surfaced, gasping, he laughed and challenged me to a race back to shore. We stumbled onto the sand, collapsing side by side, waves crashing over our tangled bodies. The sun kissed our damp skin as we lay there, laughing, talking, and touching.One kiss became two.Two became a long, heated make-out session, our lips salty from the sea, our hands exploring as the world disappeared around us.As the evening set in, Nico led me back to his apartment — a modest place tucked away in a busy neighborhood.​The moment the door closed, his mouth was on mine again. He stripped me down and pulled me into the shower with him. The water ran hot over us, mixing with leftover sand and mud as our bodies slid together in a slick, intoxicating rhythm.​He turned me around, his breath heavy against my neck. I was trembling, anticipating, needing.
When he finally entered me, his size and force stole my breath — pain flashing for a moment, only to melt into pure, dizzying pleasure.​We moved together beneath the spray, my back against the cool tile, his powerful body claiming mine completely. It was wild, urgent, animalistic.When we were spent, we tumbled out of the shower, only to continue in his bed… and later, insatiable, on the kitchen counter, our passion echoing into the night.The next day, Nico took me on a private tour of Rio.The bustling markets, the hidden alleyways, the breathtaking views — we couldn’t stop touching, stealing kisses in every corner of the city. People stared, but we didn’t care.Our connection was magnetic, primal.It felt like we’d been pulled together by some force stronger than reason.But like all wild dreams, it had to end.That evening, I boarded my flight, watching the lights of Rio fade beneath me.Nico will always be my wild Brazilian lover, the embodiment of passion, chaos, and freedom —
a memory that will burn in my veins long after the sun has set on Rio.