Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The late morning sun is already hot and the air so still that it barely moves the lace-like branches of the tamarisk. Only the third day into their Aegean idyll. A vacation for the senses, that was the mutual promise.
Eleven fifteen. “About time for my walk,”Jason says.
“Hmmm,” Miranda replies dreamily from under her broad rimmed hat. “Where will you go?”
“Back uphill and around the cove. Must be a nice view from that chapel up there.”
She raises her head, tips back the brim of her hat. “Think so?” The white chapel tips the arm that encloses the north side of the cove. She sees a small lizard scuttle over the hot rocks.
He stands, collects his day pack. “Yes. Think Vassily will come by on his lunch break?”
“He has two hours free every day between noon and two…”
Jason looks down over her lightly tanned body, nipples like milk chocolate buds. Dusty blonde hair loose over her shoulders. “I noticed he has an eye for the fairer types.”
She grins, laying back onto her beach towel. “You noticed! I’m sure he does, especially if he knows I might be here on my own today…”
“OK,” from under the shade of her broad-rimmed hat. “See you later.”
* * * *
Ten past twelve, and the rasp of a scooter dusting along the dirt track down from the main road. Jason sits in the shadow of the chapel wall, leaning against a large overhang of rock. Through his small binoculars he watches Vassily stop at the end of the dirt track and look down along the cove. Most tourists go to the main beach four kilometers south, at Ag. Georgios beach, with its tavernas and cafes. Only a few are interested in this empty place. Three or four couples at the south end of the cove, close to the descending path. One solitary female lays to the north sunning on the sand collected around the beach tamarisk, hidden from them.
Vassily takes the footpath down to the shore, walks along the water’s edge. As he approaches the north end, under the chapel, he sees Miranda on her stomach. He waves, probably says something like ‘what a surprise to see you here’. Miranda turns her head, gives a quick wave back. He approaches and sits next to her. She props herself up on her elbows. They both fill the field of view in the binoculars. Jason lowers them to concentrate on sound. But the distance and the light waves breaking on the shore and the stray gusts of wind are enough to muffle voices further below.
Vassily stands and must make a suggestion about going for a swim. Miranda also stands, throws her hat down onto the towel. Vassily runs ahead, springs a couple of times through the small waves then dives under the water. Miranda is more cautious, tightropes over the pebbles which shelve steeply into the water for a few meters, then eases herself forward into the pale crystal blue water. Her blonde shoulder length hair spreads like a fan behind her. Miranda floats on her back, small chocolate nipples puckering in the cool water. Vassily paddles on his side in circles around her. They must be chatting, drifting on the gentle swell of waves.
Vassily stands beside her, water above his elbows. Miranda floats on her back close to him, arms spread in the water, paddling slowly. He reaches out to hold her, to keep her from drifting. Then he dives, reaches his arms up around her waist and pulls her under. Miranda scrambles to the surface, gasping water, splashing for balance. She is a full head shorter than Vassily and a rising wave, swelling up towards the shore, pushes her towards him. He holds her shoulders to steady her. They stand close together. Miranda pushes the hair back from her face then rests them on his upper arms, balancing herself, bodies close. Another wave lifts her in the water and pushes her body against his. His hands under water on her hips.
Jason takes a deep breath.
Vassily falls back into the water, pulls Miranda forward onto him while he kicks towards shore. They stand as they get closer to shore, Miranda again stumbles on the pebbles. He has an arm around her shoulder, Miranda slips and arm around his waist as they both step up to the beach. Waking back to the towels Miranda drops her arm. bahis firmaları Dries herself, runs her fingers through her wet hair, shakes her head, strands of hair whipping about. She replaces her wide brimmed hat then stretches out on her stomach. After a moment Miranda rolls over into her back, the arm closest to Vassily tucked back behind her head. Vassily rests on his side, propped on an elbow, facing her.
Binoculars lowered a moment, Jason wipes perspiration from his eyes and adjusts his sitting position. Tight in the shade of the chapel, elbows propped on knees for stability. Again eyes to binoculars, the circle of light filled with the water’s edge, then the footprints in the sand, then the two of them laying on their towels.
Vassily is delicately brushing at sand which has dried on her lightly tanned skin. He brushes it from the curve of her hip, plays at digging grains from the pit in her abdomen. His lips move silently. Miranda must laugh, doubles up, then stretches out again. His fingers brush over her abdomen while talking, then rests motionless at her waist, palm flat fingers spread. Miranda raises the brim of her hat, tilts her head up to look at him. Exchanging words. Miranda lowers her head again onto her curled arm.
Vassily’s hand circles casually, slowly over her abdomen, up her side.Miranda twitches at the delicate tickle. He again makes short brush strokes at isolated grains of sand, on her stomach, then over the curve of a breast, traces a finger around a light chocolate nipple. His body inches closer to hers, his hand slides down over her stomach and abdomen then up again, fingers closing around her breast. Miranda places a hand on his forearm, seeming to stop him.
Jason takes another deep breath. Miranda’s fingers continue along Vassily’s arm and up to his shoulder. Vassily continues the slow caressing of her breasts, his finger tips dimpling the soft pliant mounds. He lowers his head closer to her, says something. In reply Miranda tucks both arms up to pillow her head, arches he back, breasts invitingly mounded over her ribs, her legs ease apart slightly, knees fallen open. Vassily sits up and kneels between her legs. He begins to caress her body with both hands in a slow rhythm. Fingers play along her sides over her armpits along the insides of her arms then down to cup both breasts, squeezing their softness once, twice. Palms slide down her stomach, grip her waist to pull her closer to him, her thighs on his, legs open around his him.
Miranda’s head drifts from side to side in rhythm with Vassily’s touch. Her head tilts back, her chest expands as Miranda inhales more deeply, curving her back to press her breasts into both his hands. He leans forward bending over her. They must again exchange words. Vassily again shift position, legs straight, his body between her spread legs.
Jason feels his insides collapse, his fingers quivering.
Vassily supports himself on one elbow, his back to the chapel. Miranda has her hands on Vassily’s shoulders. He rolls his hips into her, but their bathing suits are still on. Miranda’s legs is raised, one fallen outward with him pressing his hips into her, hands gripping her, pulling her into him. Awkward shifts for position, his movement become more insistent. Miranda’s hat has fallen to one side. Her eyes closed, neck arched, mouth open wider, breasts rise and fall.
Jason again lowers the binoculars, wipes the perspiration from his eyes. The rocky hillside throws the sun’s heat onto him. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then raises the binoculars. Miranda has her hand between their bodies , doing something, positioning. Vassily thrusts, Miranda’s expression tight, eyes wincing. She bites her lower lip.
Blood pounds through Jason’s ears, his own breathing heavy, fingers shaking. He drops the binoculars and rubs at his eyes with his fingers.
When he next peers down, both Vassily and Miranda have stood, collecting their things. Jason checks his watch. Not even one o’clock. They walk along the shore, take the footpath up the far side of the cove to where Vassily’s scooter is parked. Vassily is taking her somewhere.
Jason quickly stands, kaçak iddaa collects his day pack and moves onto the footpath overland to the village. If he hurries, it will still take him 45 minutes.
* * * * *
Jason glances over the caf‚ patio as he enters their hotel, but Miranda is not waiting there. Up two flights of stairs, standing in their room. She should have been back by now.
He takes a quick shower, dries off, slips on his shorts and a t-shirt, stands in the middle of the room in his bare feet. It is almost 2pm. Out on the balcony, he looks over the village, the olive trees dotting the terraces, the sea in the distance.
He glances at his watch. Five past two.
Miranda should have been back at least a half hour ago.
The door to their room opens. Jason glances at his watch. Two twenty. Miranda closes the door behind her, turns, removes her sunglasses, tosses her wide brimmed hat onto a wicker chair, holds his eyes, her lips pressed together.
“Where’d you go? He take you to his place?”
She steps towards him, pulls her t-shirt over her head, drops it to the floor. Removes her bikini top. Stands in front of him, slips her hands under his t-shirt, holding onto his sides. Her eyes smile, the tip of her tongue is visible on her upper lip as her mouth shapes slowly. “No…”.
Her hands move up his body, pushing his t-shirt up over his arms, drops it to the floor, slips out of her bikini bottom. She caresses his chest with her cheek, runs her nose up his neck, inhaling deeply. She can smell the clean perfume of soap.
“So? Did you go somewhere else?”
She brushes her cheek along his shoulder, breasts swelling against his bare chest. Miranda pushes her hands inside his shorts, down around his hips, squeezes his tight buttocks, pushes his shorts down to his ankles. Her arms enclose his legs, and she flows back up his naked body, his swollen penis slides between her breasts. The corners of her mouth curl upward in a shadow of a smile. “Yes,” Miranda exhales. She pushes her body against his, pushes him back against the edge of the bed, pushes him onto it. Jason lays back, crabbing on his elbows to the top of the bed as Miranda kneels onto the bed and crawls over his legs. “Yes,” she repeats, bends down to kiss his stomach. “We went somewhere else.” Her fingers trace along the inside of his thighs, circle around his penis. It stiffens to its full extension within two slow caresses. “Why do you ask?” Miranda whispers as she straddles him, moves her vulva over his erection, brushing it with her pubic hair. Jason can feel the wetness, beads of moisture collecting at the tips of the hairs.
“It took a while for you to get back here. I was curious what took so long.”
She presses her weight down onto his shaft, her wet vulva moving along it. Miranda bends forward, kissing his chest, licking his nipples. Short kisses up his neck, her hips working in a slow waves, presses into him sliding along his shaft making it wet. “Oh? What were you curious about?” Miranda licks around his ear, bites the lobe. Lips pressed close she whispers “Do you think we were fucking somewhere?” His hands squeeze her hips as her body caresses his, her hard nipples brushing against his skin. “Hmmm? Is that what you were thinking?” Miranda whispers, lips brushing his ear, runs her tongue along his jaw and over his lips. “…that he was fucking me somewhere?” Her hair is matted, stringy, still damp from the salt sea. He can taste the salt on her shoulders, on her mouth. She pulls her hips higher, stretches her torso over him, his erection pushes through the folds of her vulva. She is so wet that his is in her instantly, full penetration before he realizes it. Miranda grins at his surprised recognition. Her hands braced on his shoulders, head tilts back, eyes closed, mouth parted. She releases a long soft sigh, as she rolls her hips in small circles. Questioning seductively, “Hmmm?”
“It looked like that on the beach.”
Hands on his shoulders, straightening herself, weight pressed onto his erection to keep him completely inside her, hips rolling in slow circles, back arched to stimulate her clitoris against the base kaçak bahis of his erection. “Looked like … what?” Her breath is short gasps. “Like he had … his … stiff cock inside me?”
Jason pulls her forward, licks her shoulder, her breasts. She tastes of the sea. “Did he?”
She bites his lower lip, closes her eyes, whispers “he said he wanted me very much.” Miranda sways as in a gentle breeze, easing up over his erection, then letting him slip deep into her again. She purrs. Slowly, massaging. “Vassily was trying to make an accident happen … I could feel the head of his cock through my bikini almost pushing into me.” Rocking, swaying, rising and falling on the building waves of desire. “He kept moving his hips around, sliding his cock over my crotch trying to work the fabric to one side.” Jason holds her breasts, and Miranda leans into him, nipples pressed into his palms. “So close … so close … rubbing against me … it gave me an orgasm …” Jason rolls Miranda over on the bed, bends over her, swings his body in long deep thrusts, pushing her into the bed. Her matted hair flame over a pillow, arms crucifixed, grasping for support. “One … long hot … wave rushing up over me”, she moans, nuzzling her forehead into Jason’s chest.
Jason eases, lowers his body onto hers. The hot afternoon makes them perspire where their bodies touch, her abdomen, her breasts slide wet against his chest. “Could … he tell?”
Her tongue moistens his lips, presses into him kissing long and slow. The weight of him pushing into her forces breathless gasps from her, whispering “Yes … he touched me all over … I was shivering.” Jason is on his elbows, Miranda glistens with sweat under him. “He wanted to take advantage … but I stopped him … held his cock in my hand. It was throbbing. I said I’d rub it over my cunt for him, to let him feel how wet I was.”
Jason slowly withdraws. “How far?”
“Along my cunt lips, but he was hoping for a accident, pushing against me…” Miranda gasps when Jason withdraws, then eases the tip of his erection between her hot lips.
“Oooh…” she gasps. “No … maybe … just a bit … just the head … I let the folds of my cunt around it …”.
Jason pushes the head of his erection into her hot folds. She moans, “… further … just a bit further … so I could feel its rim …”
Jason pushes his full length into her. Miranda’s head shoots back, “Ahhh … no …” She can feel the surge begin, a swelling, cresting wave. She winces against the burning intensity, bites his shoulder against the scream in her throat. She urges him along, wet abdomens slapping, Jason far away behind the rising wall of energy. She hears her own voice somewhere, desperate sounds against the electric onslaught of the wave engulfs her. Miranda digs her nails into his shoulder, pulls up her knees, wraps her legs around him, arms grasping at his body for support against the turbulence of her orgasm.
Miranda gasps for air, head fallen back, eyes tight, damp hair flayed over the sheets. Her chest rises and falls heavily, body twitches in spasms when Jason’s hands slide over her wet breasts and brush against her nipples. He licks the perspiration from her. Another deep breath and she calms, moistens her dried lips with her tongue, body undulates slow while Jason moves down over her stomach.
“You still haven’t said where you both went…”
“Hmmm?” she murmurs, mind drugged, unfocused. “What?”
Jason licks at a pool of moisture in the hollow between her rib cage. “Where’d you go?”
Miranda smiles … and chuckles. “Mmmm … I told Vassily that he owed me lunch. We went to Ag. Georgios”.
“He owed you!” Jason grins. “Who’s been doing the hustling here?” He scratches lightly up the inside of a thigh, massages the flat of his palm between her legs, spreads a film her viscous wetness over her other thigh.
Delicate sounds bubble up from her throat, her pleasure like champagne. Miranda rolls her hips, curls her torso, weaves her fingers into his hair and eases him upward. He bites at the chocolate buds of her nipples, licks at the perspiration in the hollow of her throat, mouths open pressed together. Her lips move over his cheek, whispers “We should go somewhere else tomorrow.”
Their damp bodies ease together in slow caresses. “… Mmmm…,” she sighs. “I think so…”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32