I had been married for 19 years. Not a particularly happy marriage, nor a very fulfilling one in many ways especially when it came to bedroom activities. I still live in the farm house here in Wales where I grew up. The house has changed little since I was a girl. Often when I think back to happier times I stand in what is now a utility room off the kitchen. When I was a girl it was the bedroom I shared with my younger sister. It was also the room where one summer's night a young man from a neighbouring farm climbed in through the open window at my invitation, and we had a night of wonderfully rewarding, youthful passionate sex on the floor as the bed made so much noise we would have woken the whole valley! But that was then, and as I say happier days (and nights)!
My husband has never really got the hang of good, mutually rewarding sex. We care for each other, we are more like good friends than husband and wife. The rewards of a regular and fulfilling sex life never really took off with us. This causes a confusion of emotions in me. I feel that even though our sex life is sadly lacking the humph and power that it should, we
are
still married. I often find myself craving the pleasures that good sex can bring. This in turn causes resentment sometimes.
We have never been away on holiday together. Leaving the farm has never been an option as far as my husband is concerned. For this reason I have been away on holidays with my life long best friend, Gwen. She used to live on the neighbouring farm and we went through school together. She went off to Cardiff at the age of 19 to train as a nurse, I to a London university. I came back after university to the farm. A big mistake, but as we are told, we make our bed and must lie on it.
Gwen suggested one year that we went to Spain for our holiday. My first reaction was not favourable. The thought of high-rise hotels and crowded beaches was not grabbing my interest to say the least. She told me of an area in the south of Spain called the Cabo de Gata. An area of quiet beaches, small hotels and lots of warm sunshine and coastal walks. The photographs in the books she gave me painted an idyllic picture, as did my own research. So I agreed and we booked our flights, car hire and hotel. This was not without the usual heated discussions between myself and my husband. He simply could not see why I needed to get away from the farm. The farm had become his entire world. A world that he loved and I found too suppressing. We would eventually come to the decision that we always did. I would go.
As the time for our holiday came closer I was looking more and more forward to it. Choosing the books I would take to read, buying guide books and maps, and packing clothes were all tasks I enjoyed as the excitement built. Eventually the big day came. I drove to the airport, parked and met up with Gwen. Her husband had driven her there and was waiting with her until I arrived. We all greeted each other and as Gwen's husband gave her a final kiss and a hug he said "Well, have a good time you two, don't drink too much!". He was a very caring man who was very devoted to Gwen, as indeed she was to him. "Ho! And don't forget to give my regards to Carol and Miguel."
As we walked into the terminal building I asked Gwen about Carol and Miguel. I knew that Carol was a friend of Gwen's who she went through nurse training with. She had met a Spaniard (Miguel) and after marrying they moved to Madrid. Gwen rather sheepishly told me that we had been invited to go to Madrid for a couple of days to stay with them during our two week holiday. I was a little peeved at this as I hardly knew Carol and did not know Miguel at all. However, I put it to the back of my mind, too excited about the journey. Then came the waiting, waiting, waiting for our flight to be called so we could board the plane. This for me was the hateful part of flying. So I went to the bookshop to look for yet another book. I had plenty already with me, I was just really filling in time. I browsed through the books, picking up and putting down those that did not interest me. There was one however, that did make me consider a random purchase. It was described on the back cover as a racy, raunchy and erotic story of passion and desire. Certainly not my usual reading. But I thought what the heck! I'm on holiday! And I could do with some excitement in that vein even if it was only fiction.
At last we were called to our gate for the flight. As we sat on the plane Gwen asked me if I was ok about going on a short trip to Madrid. I pointed out to her that it was a very long drive up to Madrid from where we were staying. As Gwen never would drive a left-hand drive car, it would mean that I would have to do all the driving. Plus I didn't really know them, but I was happy for her to go, maybe on the train or an internal flight. We agreed that I would take her to the railway station and pick her up again a couple of days later and I would stay behind. Although we often went away together, it was not unusual for us to go off to do different things. But normally only during the day, not to spend days apart. But we were both comfortable with what we had decided to do.
While Gwen went to collect our cases I went over to the car hire desk and sorted out our transport. I loved driving, especially in unfamiliar foreign countries. It was all part of the adventure of being on holiday and away from the normal world that I inhabited.
By now we were both in full holiday mood, like a pair of teenagers let loose on the world and out to have a good time together. The journey was easy enough, no getting lost, Gwen was a good navigator. We were staying in a small hotel in a town called San Jose on the Cabo de Gata. The hotel was very nice, small but comfortable, and the little town was perfect. It was obviously a place where Spaniards went for a holiday.
After checking in we went for a walk of discovery around the town, examined the wide beach that was certainly not crowded although obviously well used. As we sat outside a bar having our first glass of wine we talked about what we wanted to do, where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see. The receptionist at the hotel had given Gwen details of trains that went to Madrid. She had telephoned Carol and Miguel, and she had arranged to go and see them in a few days. In the mean time we were going to get some sun on our poor white, Welsh bodies. As the hotel had no swimming pool, this meant using the beach. No problem there! The trip to Madrid for Gwen was now second place to our thoughts of laying on a beach reading, having nice lunches and returning to the beach for more sun and sea, and maybe some sangria, ok definitely some sangria! As we sat there drinking our wine, Gwen picked up the menu from the table. We were fortunate that it was not only in Spanish but also English. It was decided that we would return here for dinner as it had so many nice sounding things on the menu.
The next day after breakfast we hit the beach. It was still not crowded, but was obviously one frequented by families as well as small groups of young women and the odd group of young men. Despite this it was quiet enough. Gwen and I lay on our loungers reading, chatting and simply revelling in the Spanish sun's warmth on our skin instead of the weak, milky sunshine of home. Home! It already seemed a million miles away. Later we went back to the same bar we had had dinner in the night before. We were welcomed warmly by the same waiter who had served us previously. After lunch we returned, somewhat replete of wine, to the beach, where we spent the afternoon swimming, laughing and talking until it was time to go back to the hotel.
As I entered my room I took off the sarong that was covering my swimsuit. I noticed in the mirror that I was already starting to get tanned by the sun. I never went red, just a bronzy brown. This was, I knew the only thing that Gwen hated me for! I took off my swimsuit and looking at myself, now naked in the mirror, took stock of my body. I'm not in bad shape I thought, no signs of saggy boobs or anything else, no stretch marks (I have never had children, so have avoided the perils of pregnancy), and what I thought of as generally a firm, trim body. All the farm work must have an up side after all! I also noticed the tan lines starting to show. It would eventually make me look like I was wearing a creamy white swim suit, such a shame. I took a long luxuriant shower and washed the saltiness of the sea from my hair. As I let the warmth of the water flow over me I gently massaged the shower gel to a lather over my skin. Such a delightful feeling. We had no shower at home just the old bath that my Da had installed.
Wrapped in towels I dried and brushed my hair and then lay on the bed to read until it was time to meet up with Gwen and go out for dinner. I picked up the book I had bought at the airport. It was proving to be a vey racy book indeed. The heroine leaping from one erotic romp in bed with a fit, muscled rampant man to another. Certainly not great literature, and not destined for any prizes. The story did however, begin to fan the almost extinct embers of my unattended to sexual desires. As I read I found myself unwrapping my body from the towels, and as the passage of the book became more raunchy I let my fingertips slowly begin to trace the outline of my labia and run through my sparse pubic hair. I often did this at home. My husband and I had had separate bedrooms for quite some time. This gave me the opportunity for self pleasuring, the only pleasuring I got! At home I had secretly hidden away a vibrator. This device was what kept me sane. It allowed me to explore my fantasies and give me at least some sexual satisfaction. I loved the sensations I got by teasing my clitoris with its vibrating tip, sometimes working myself nearly to an orgasm before gently easing it inside myself, letting it rest there purring away as I brought myself to a climax by using my fingertips on my clitty. Sadly I had not packed my pleasure toy. Too unsure of what airport security would have made of it. I lay there on my hotel bed, reading an outrageously improbable sexual adventure, whilst teasing myself with my fingertips. Gradually I began to feel the warmth of an orgasm beginning to develop inside me. Maybe not such a bad story after all.
A few days later I was dropping Gwen off at the railway station for her trip to Madrid. She was going to telephone me at the hotel to let me know when to pick her up again. So, there I was. Foot loose and fancy free. What to do now? The lazy days of sunshine on the beach were so appealing, and my tan was coming on very well. But I decided to wander around the town by the station. This soon proved to be a bit dull so I drove back to San Jose. I wandered over to the beach to settle down to an afternoon there. While I was putting on more sun oil I thought about going topless in order to get a more all-over tan. There were several young women there who had done this, so I would not be the only one. I did however, shy away from the idea. But the idea grew and developed until I realised what I really wanted to do was to peel off my swimsuit completely and sunbathe naked! Definitely not the thing to do here on this family beach. So I just lay and read and snoozed, and dreamed of feeling the freedom of being naked in this wonderful Spanish sunshine. I later returned to the hotel and went through my now routine of showering and self pleasuring.
Later I went back to the bar where Gwen and I had been every night for dinner so far. Instead of sitting at a table outside as we had done, I went inside and sat at the bar. The waiter (Carlos, as he had introduced himself to us) was as welcoming as he always was.
"You are alone tonight? Where is your friend?" he asked.
"She is away visiting her friends in Madrid for a couple of days, Carlos. So it's just me."
It appeared that Carlos in addition to waiting at the tables was also the barman. He was probably in his late twenties, fairly tall with that dark hair and even darker eyes that was so characteristic of Spanish people.
