Brunette On Blonde

Brunette on Blonde, Part 2 - The Blonde

Alex's girlfriend, Rachel, and her Aunt Penny had left the holiday camp under dramatic circumstances. The experience had rattled Alex. He took no pleasure from his breakfast the following morning, and left it half uneaten.

As he walked from the restaurant into the Reception foyer, the dazzling blonde, Aurelia, was heading in the opposite. She was alone. She shot him a quick glance as she passed. Her beautiful eyes were clouded and she wore a frown; she looked troubled. It touched him to feel her sorrow, which made him temporarily forget his own troubles. He turned back and caught up with her.

Pitching his voice as gently as he could muster, he asked. "Are you alright? You seem distressed."

She turned her head slowly and studied him. Then she turned to face him fully.

"It's nothing," she half-whispered, cryptically, with a forced smile, "It's a day for regrets all round. Thank you for caring." She reached for his hands and clasped them. Then she turned away and headed for the restaurant.

Her mysterious comment intrigued him, but if she didn't want to confide, that was an end to it. He somehow felt that her grief must be more serious than his disappointment.

It was low tide so he grabbed a towel and headed for the beach for an early swim. The usual gaggle of youths and hangers-on had congregated outside the cliff-top shop, probably waiting for their leaders to join them. He glanced at them in passing, conscious of all eyes staring at him, speculatively. He changed his plan and forced himself to join them out of curiosity, to hear the gossip. As he had suspected, there was a lot of talk and speculation about Rachel. Someone asked him what he knew. He told them nothing of significance. A voice out of his range of vision muttered, "He fucked up."

Alex searched for the source but no-one's face betrayed ownership. Mortified, he headed off to the beach alone.

Lying on the compacted sand, he surveyed the bay. He found a place to lay his towel near the cliffs, where the sand had been banked highest by storms. The bay formed a rough oval with a relatively narrow opening to the sea. The way out to sea pointed perhaps to Iberia, the Azores or perhaps the Caribbean. He wished he was any of those places rather than there.

He turned his head to examine the tall cliff face behind him. Some quite large openings high up in the cliff wall, like caves attracted his attention. They were inaccessible from the beach, being 12 to 14 feet above its highest point.

All around him, families were spreading out as the tide ebbed out, spreading out their towels and hammering in redundant wind breaks. He glanced around for a sign of his parents, but to no avail. They were probably up by the pool.

He brooded, torturing himself on his bad luck with Rachel, and at getting sucked into an ill-advised, and all too brief and unfulfilled fling. Still, it could have ended far worse, if Rachel had not put a stop to her aunt's lascivious plans. That woman was clearly deranged. Would he have succumbed to her Aunt Penny's charms? With a body like that, he had to admit that he probably might.

He guessed that Penny must be in her late thirties though her face and body looked much younger. His first impression of her body laid out on the lounger and stumbling about in a loose, stringy bikini, had been unfavourable. But seeing her naked had astonished him. She was without doubt a MILF, even though the term had not yet then been coined. Her body was large and powerful, a plus size in modelling terms, yet firm, curved to the point of voluptuousness, and simply stunning. He recalled at the pool, lifting her breast to slip it back into her top when he thought she was asleep. It had felt firm and heavy, the memory of which now was causing his trunks to balloon.

Ah, to cherish a body like that; but the possible consequences didn't bear thinking about.

Aurelia arrived on the beach, with her male entourage in tow. She saw him and headed in his direction. The main group got their first and settled down around him. Her entourage chose to pitch camp a little further off. At that point his troubles were forgotten. Nothing else mattered but the proximity of Aurelia's graceful beauty. He could see her attraction for the others. Like them, he was captivated by her delicate movements, her wonderfully slim but curvy body, and her unapproachable beauty. She removed her sleeveless top to reveal her bikini. Her breasts were simply fantastic, beautifully formed, and barely contained within their teasing triangular confines. She slipped out of her shorts, seemingly in a world of her own, as if unaware of her surroundings. Her glorious body taunted him from within its skimpy bright yellow coverings. She was so achingly beautiful. All thoughts of Rachel melted away.

Aurelia's cleavage pointed at him tantalisingly as she bent forwards to dust sand from her feet. Her breasts shook gently from side to side, as a visible reminder of what he might admire from afar yet never get to touch.

Unlike Rachel's aunt, Aurelia's bikini strings were securely tied. The revealing garment clung lovingly and reliably to her exquisite body, as would anything privileged enough to be that close to perfection. She stood, stretching her arms, her shapely bottom pushed out and her back arched. Her loyal following lounged a little distance from her in a rough semi-circle, each casting discreet glances from time to time at her body. If she was aware, she showed no signs. She was occupied in fixing her shoulder length hair in some sort of bun.

Satisfied with her handiwork, she lay down on her front on her towel. Alex admired the rise and fall of her profile from her head, down her slender back, to the graceful mound of her bottom.

Her gaggle of followers stood up, and began a game of catch-ball to perpetuate the conceit that they were not particularly interested in her. For some reason, the tableau angered Alex. It was the ridiculous non-engagement with the object of their real interest which provoked him. Aurelia was like an object, an icon; held prisoner by her adoring retinue. Her guards kept their respectful distance around her but would be prepared to intervene should she, or anyone else make a move out of step.

Alex resolved to prick their bubble. He approached her nonchalantly and sank to his knees beside her.

She sensed his presence and raised her head to look at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. Brief puzzlement quickly gave way to a weak smile as she recognised him. "Are you my shining bright knight?" she enquired enigmatically. Her tone was relaxed, perhaps mildly amused. But her question begged a whole heap of others.

"Laugh at me if you will but I can feel your unhappiness. I can't bear to see it and do nothing. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Sit down," she said, in a voice not much above a whisper.

He sat initially, then lay on his side to bring his face closer to hers. He guessed that what she wanted to confide in him she didn't want anyone else to hear.

Her face was expressionless.

"Rachel called at my room early this morning. She told me what happened. I'm so sorry. Her aunt is a bully. She told me that nothing happened with you in the end? Is that true?"

"Were you her friend?"

"As much as casual acquaintances might be friendly. I'm pestered by men, as you can see. It frightens off the other females. I don't know if I'm being punished by that. But Rachel went out of her way to talk to me when we were alone together."

"She seems a kind girl."

"How did you two get so far so quickly when you hardly knew each other?"

Aurelia's inquisitive tone voice held a tinge of admiration for his rapid achievement.

"So far? So you know we didn't get as far as Rachel had planned - or rather her aunt. I'm ashamed at our indecent haste, but when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn't resist. But that can't be what's bothering you. Is it your isolation?"

Alex probably over-stepped the mark with that presumption to refer to the unmentionable, but she didn't react as he expected.

Rather, she snorted dismissively. "It's been a curse for much of my life. I've been pestered by men and boys of all ages, and despised by other women. I wish I could get away sometimes. But, no, that isn't what's troubling me."

She shifted her upper body close to me. "Thank you for caring. I'm sure you're a genuine person. But I don't want to talk about it now. I hope you don't mind?"

He digested her meaning, then nodded and gave her a brief smile. He was dismissed. His audience with the goddess had been concluded.

He leapt to his feet and casually sauntered away. The brief physical closeness to Aurelia had sent his pulse haywire. Close-up she had looked even more stunning and desirable than at a distance. But she was just as remote and unattainable as before. He imagined some of the pretenders smirking at his apparent banishment.

~*~*~

The next few days passed slowly, with only minor conversational skirmishes with isolated young women. It came to nothing because Alex still carried the scars of playful Rachel, and unrequited desire for that unattainable blonde goddess.

He spent a couple of days with his parents by the pool. They all went on two coach tours, one of which was a mystery tour around the island. It ended up predictably at a touristic retail outlet amongst sand dunes where they were induced to part with good money on over-priced local produce and worthless mementos of their holidays.

Wednesday was the half-way point of the holiday. Alex decided to go back to the beach. He had eschewed lunch in order to swim on an empty stomach. He felt the needed for a good, strenuous swim in the sea to work off his negative humours. The manual clock at the top of the path showed high tide. It was accompanied by a red flag on a pole. A marker board message warned of an exceptionally high tide and risk of being stranded on the beach. Yet those were permissive times and these were nothing more than warnings.

He glanced around him at the leaderless gaggle of youths near the shop. But because of the tide, few people were actually browsing inside it, perhaps preferring to indulge in the afternoon entertainments by the pool. A game of rounders was beginning on the green. It had attracted a noisy crowd of onlookers. Nobody seemed to be taking any interest in him. Aurelia was nowhere to be seen.

The crowd of young adults drifted disconsolately away towards the pool area.

With no one around to challenge him Alex set off down the steep path to the beach. He was almost to the bottom before the beach came fully into view. The water was lapping right up against the cliff edge, completely submerging the sand which could nowhere be seen, so deep was the water. The tides were apparently very high around this coast.

The sea sparkled beguilingly in a beautiful turquoise blue. It must have been close to high tide. The cloudless sky and hot sun thrilled him. These were be ideal conditions for a lazy swim, provided that he kept a watch out for any undercurrents when the tide turned. As he had anticipated the beach was not just deserted, it was non-existent. In his splendid isolation, he felt king of all he surveyed.

The bottom end of the cliff path was lapped by shallow waves. The sea was calm. He draped his towel twice around the handrail to keep it dry, and folded his clothes neatly in a pile on his flip-flops, a little way up the slope. He tested the shallows. The water was deceptively warm and inviting. He stepped down into the shallow water and his feet felt the submerged sand about a foot below the surface. It yielded under his feet with a sensation that reminded him of quicksand. The beguiling blue of the bay enticed him, offering him his own temporarily private paradise. He floated off into the blue of the gently lapping waves. He was at peace.

The sea was at its deceptive best that afternoon. Having it all to himself posed a slight danger if he got into difficulties, because there would be no one to raise the alarm. But misplaced youthful confidence allayed any fears his commonsense might have voiced. The lethargic incoming waves indicated that it was indeed approaching high tide. The water was placid.

A joyful thrill swept through his body as the sea water embraced him. He lay floating on his back, admiring the deep blue sky and the cliffs towering above him. It felt as if he was in his own private water-world. The sensuous motion of the gentle waves caused an erection to build. He revelled in the seductive pleasure of his body floating in his own warm, liquid paradise.

Then he noted with elation that the largest cave was now accessible from the ultra-high water level, which lapped at its outer edge. He swam across to explore it with mounting excitement as the possibility of a rare exploration of its interior presented itself.

Its mouth was about six feet across by eight high, and its floor at the cave edge was level. It might have been carved purposefully out of the cliff face, then worn smooth by generations of high tides. He imagined smugglers in centuries past, hiding their contraband deep in its interior, safe from the Revenue.

He hoisted himself up by his hands onto the ledge and scrambled up onto his feet. Like the cove, the cave interior was crescent shaped, opening out inside to maybe ten feet across and extending back about the same depth. The rock floor near the cave mouth was worn to a marble-like finish from erosion of waves and generations of feet. Sunlight bounced off the sea water and reflected off the glassy surface of the floor. It illuminated the walls with a shimmering light, which reflected back off pieces of quartz embedded in the surfaces. The mysterious aura of that cave took his breath away. It oozed of mystical magic.

A few stones were scattered on the floor but he soon swept them to the borders of wall and floor where they could do his bare feet no harm.

He guessed that the cave had indeed been hollowed out to some extent by human hands, then the floor near the mouth polished by the weather and the sea. Maybe its origin was thousands of years old? The smooth lower walls and floor suggested that it must at times be scoured by waves, perhaps during rough winter storms.

His initial thought was why hadn't the holiday camp exploited it? He answered his own question almost instantly with the realisation that what he was doing at that moment was perhaps quite dangerous. He recalled the warning note under the clock face on the board at the top of the cliff. He could get cut off in here as the sea receded, or dash his head against rocks at the back of the beach as he dived off into shallow water. He would have to watch the tide.

He gazed out at the sea of his own personal kingdom and sighed contentedly. Then he turned his attention to the cave's interior. How many others like him must have discovered it like this, he pondered, and fallen under its spell? The stone floor sloped upwards in a gentle incline away from the mouth of the cave. Further back, the floor was dry. The air in the deeper recesses were cool, a marked contrast to the heat in the outside air. He estimated that the cavern extended back at a standing height perhaps fourteen feet, then losing height to shrink to a small inaccessible passage. The low tunnel at floor level stretched back into the deeper recesses of the cliff. It was far too low and narrow to investigate.

The bright sunshine did not penetrate that far and the rear wall was mostly cast in deep shadows. Illegible scratches at shoulder height bore witness to the possibility of past explorers, or perhaps even smugglers, using it to store their illicit goods to evade the Revenue.

The water level at the lip of the cave had barely altered since he arrived. He estimated that he had about an hour or so before the receding tide would make it too dangerous to dive back into the sea.

His kingdom, his rules, he decided: he slipped off his trunks and laid them out to dry on a raised rock to one side exposed to the sun. The immediate coolness on his damp groin aroused him.

He stood on the cave's outer edge and stared at the sea. The sensation of the sea breeze on his cock and exposed thighs made his member stand out proudly. He looked down at it, highlighted against the emerald green backdrop of the sea lapping against the cliff below. A soft, warm breeze caressed his boner and sent swirling eddies around its sensitive head. It was exhilarating and empowering to be naked.

He turned reluctantly to explore his temporary domain, taking sensual delight in the slapping of his semi-hard cock against his inner thighs as he moved about. He even rocked his hips sideways to accentuate the slaps, then snorted at his ridiculous behaviour.

Images of a naked Rachel filled his mind. He imagined her breasts bouncing as if she were wandering around nakedly before him. He contemplated self-abuse, but practicalities dissuaded him. He I didn't want to leave organic deposits on the floor. Nevertheless, he thrilled at how thick his manhood felt in his fist, and how aroused he was by his palm's grip. The very illicitness of its touch sent pleasurable ripples out through the neck of his shaft into his groin and abdomen.

This wouldn't do. He had to distract his mind from salacious thoughts. He turned to practicalities, to study and attempt to decipher the markings on the cave's rear wall. It took several seconds for his eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom after the glare of the sun at the cave's mouth. Occasional splashes of light danced off the ceiling to bring a semblance of life to this empty cavern. Some scratches on the walls looked like tallies, or 'five-bar gates'. That reinforced his assumption about ancient smugglers.

How would he feel if they suddenly entered the cave now? Would they have climbed up the cliff face or been lowered down from the top on ropes, daggers clenched between bared teeth? His body shuddered at the thought of being caught, naked, and defenceless.

Then that imagined chill morphed into stark terror.

A shadow loomed against the rear wall. Someone or something must be blocking out the sunlight at the cave mouth. Was someone there at the mouth of the cave behind him? His body froze as his imagination ran riot. His naked vulnerability fuelled his terror. He was reluctant to turn for fear that his worst imaginings might be right. He didn't want to face that interloper.

But turn he must. His mind returned to practicalities. If it was one of the beach patrol, how would he explain his nudity?

All these thoughts raced through his mind as he summoned the courage to turn. His body tensed with a fight or flight reflex, though there was nowhere to run. His body trembled with fear.

"Hallo?"

The soft voice startled him. He whirled around, quite forgetting his nakedness. A shadowy figure was indeed standing in the cave mouth. It blocked out much of the sun's rays, but that had the effect of surrounding it in a halo, like an angel. The voice was female, the profile of the body shapely. Was it also naked? His heart raced.

Then his eyes began to accustom themselves to the vision, and to make out details. It was clearly a she, and it had the most wondrous form; a slim shape with pronounced hips which gave this female's outline a delightful hourglass shape. The shadowy form moved to one side and bent down. The female had spotted his drying trunks. She picked them up in her fingers and held them up to examine them.

Her voice was soft and velvety, like soothing words on a gentle breeze, but with a hint of tease. "I see that I've caught you with your pants down." Her voice was cultured and sexy. It echoed around the walls, which gave it a heightened, sensuous quality.