The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 16g: Spanish Honeymoon Part 7
A Paul and Jenny story.
(Copyright 2002. All rights reserved).
Part 7.
Siesta was over and the heat of the day past as I sat with Jenny, dressed in our swimming costumes, by the side of the pool. A large glass jug of fruit juiced and two glasses stood on the table between us. I watched her towelling her legs in the shade cast by the parcel above us.
"Alright." Jenny said. "Tell me again."
She was rubbing the top of her thigh. I'd rubbed that spot five minutes before when we had been in the pool and I had tried to convince her that she could swim better without her swimming costume.
"Well." I told her for the fifth time. "I saw Herto stop and collect some boxes from Izabella's villa."
"And you think that there is something suspicious in that?"
"Well no." She had me there. What was wrong with doing that? "I don't think there is anything suspicious."
"What were you doing spying on our neighbour's?"
"I wasn't spying."
"You were looking when I went into the bathroom and you were still looking when I came out. Hmm, Why?"
I hated it when she started to interrogate over something. She could tie me up in knots and I'd end up saying what I didn't want to. Which would normally be the truth.
"I was just looking out to see what the day was going to be like."
"I could have told you that." She rubbed her hair. "It's going to be hot and sunny everyday. There's something you're not telling me. Isn't there?"
"No." I protested. "I just saw Herto and I wondered where he was going."
She looked hard at me then looked around. I could hear Maria in the kitchen and Contria would be seeing to any cleaning to be done upstairs. Apparently there was to be some sort of conference being held in the old stable block after we had left. This happened occasionally when we weren't there. There had been a certain amount of tension between Britain and Spain recently over the sovereignty of Gibraltar. This came up ever few years. One of the many problems we had left over from Colonial days. Spain wanted Gibraltar; the locals who lived there wanted to remain British. We had similar problems in Ireland, the Falkland Islands and Hong Kong. We could just wash our hands of it and walk away I suppose. Blame it on previous generations, but they are not here to sort it out.
What's this? Jenny was taking her arms through the straps of her swimming costume. She was pulling it down to her waist. She was reaching down to the floor by her side. Aha. Her suntan lotion. She putting some onto her hands and rubbing was rubbing it onto her chest and the tops of her breasts.
"I could do that for you." I suggested.
"You could, I suppose." She looked down at her breasts. "But I think I've finished."
"You might have missed something."
"I may have." She agreed.
"It would be best to check. Make really sure. We don't want you to get sunburnt."
"Does that mean you would need to look very closely."
"As close as I can get."
"Oh."
My prick was already hardening as I walked around the table. I crouched, with difficulty, by her side. That hurt so I brought my chair around and sat on that. I poured some of the lotion from the bottle onto my hands and started massaging it into her shoulders. My prick was fully hard by the time I touched her breasts.
"Master Paul."
Shit. I pulled my eyes from Jenny's hardening nipples and looked to where Maria was standing at the kitchen door to the side of the building.
She began walking towards us, wiping her hands on her apron.
Jenny was hurriedly stuffing her breasts back into her swimming costume and I tried to cross my legs without snapping my prick in half.
"Yes Maria?" I asked. I daren't risk standing up.
"The Contessa has sent a message asking if you wish to go for dinner tonight. Eight o'clock."
I looked at Jenny.
"Don't mind." She said.
"Tell her we'd love to come."
Maria turned away shaking her head.
"What's wrong, Maria?" Jenny asked.
Maria turned.
"She is a Basque." She said sadly. "They cause trouble."
"Who?" I asked. "the contessa or all Basque's?"
"All Basque." She was about to turn away but stopped. "They wish to break away. Have their own country. They cause trouble."
I think I remembered reading something in the news about a bomb in Madrid. Our own newscasts were full of bombs and riots in Northern Ireland. So many, I was loosing track of who was killing whom, and why.
"I like the contessa." Jenny said. "She's married, isn't she?"
"Into one of our oldest families." Maria confirmed. "He is in our government."
I wished I had followed Spanish politics more closely. At least my prick had gone down and I felt more confident about standing up. I did so.
"Are they waiting for a reply?" I asked.