The wet weather had finally broken and what seemed to be a newly energized sun beamed out of a cerulean blue sky flecked with invitingly puffy clouds. It caught her blonde hair, transforming it into waves of gold and bronze and the yellow of late summer straw. This shoulder length mane, already slightly disordered by the caressing breeze, framed a face of stone-chiselled Nordic beauty. She was a North Sea beauty, elegant yet easily imaginable wind-swept and holding a rope at the prow of a ship as it crashed its way through a swell. She smiled, transforming the serious face that served her so well as a securities lawyer into something gentler and lovelier, something ineffably youthful.
After the better part of a decade with her he also knew that this youthfulness was equally true of her body, perhaps even more so. She was middlingly-tall, long-legged and slim. Yet this athleticism was offset by just enough softness at her hips and, even more so, at her C cup breasts. It was the body of a woman a decade younger and more. He gazed at her and admitted that he was fortunate indeed to have such a beautiful partner.
They were seated at the modernist squareness of the wenge wood table. The wind played with her cotton shirt-dress, leaving the flimsy robins-egg blue material both translucent and clingy. A gust flapped the hem up, revealing a length of pale thigh. She turned to look at him, flicking tendrils of wind-tossed hair aside as she did. The sun placed an aura around her head and shoulders. They were on their terrace, the view to greystones and glass towers ahead framed by sky above and treetops just below. He flipped his iPhone over, raised it and took a photo of her.
"Stand up, let the sun frame you".
She paused, smiling more, and stood, the medley of stone and treetop and sky her backdrop. Sun streamed through her dress and around her. The length of her long limbs, the sweep of thigh up to the side outline of breasts was outlined in a shimmer of light. She was not wearing a bra, the side curve showing appealingly.
She pirouetted, the hem flying higher yet. "The panties ruin the line" he remarked, levelly.
"Here? Right now? On the terrace?" She glanced at the buildings to the right with a view of them.
He nodded. She grinned.
She reached under her hemline and hooked her thumbs into her panties and slowly inched them down. She turned sideways to provide him with a perfectly silhouetted view of her body. The flimsy garment slid down her calves to lie like a pair of loose, silken fetters around her ankles. She bent (what a perfect L-line) and daintily freed herself by stepping out, one foot then the other. He tapped the screen.
She gave another pirouette - hair flying in a wind-tossed golden mane - her bum peeking as she turned. He snapped that too.
She sat on the chair, and (turning her head and letting hair obscure her face) and slightly parted her legs. Soft whiteness peeked out. And he tapped his screen for that too.
"Your swelling visibly" she said, laughing. Her voice acknowledged her power.
Indeed he was swelling. She continued. "I imagine you could even post that one with the hair over my face on one of those 'show off your woman' websites we looked at once". She arched an eyebrow at his groin. "I see the idea excites you."
She hiked up the hemline and light flooded between her thighs. A hint of hairless lips emerged. Tap. Tap.
She unbuttoned the front of her dress and the gap of cleavage and swelling breasts revealing themselves. Tap, tap, tap.
"Ever thought about posting the ones where my face cannot be seen?... Oh my, that is exciting you..."
He shook his head and tried to keep his voice calm. "The background would be visible. And even if you have the body of a twenty eight year old, a pearl-wearing blonde disrobing from a Prada sundress on a terrace like this would - and I may be wrong here - be distinctive."
She parted her legs farther. Her waxed lips were now fully on view, her slit a tightly defined line of shadow. "Get that, photographer boy" she purred.
"And how about this?" She stood and moved towards the doors leading inside. She turned and smoothly lifted the dress over her head and stood on the terrace facing the city, quite naked, under the awning but directly bathed in sunlight. Her C-cup breasts were surmounted by two tightly formed pink nipples that had stiffened in the breeze. Her arms and belly were lightly muscled in an attractive and feminine way (a testament to her hours in the pool). The line of her body from the nip-in at the waste to the feminine swell of hips was lean and yet perfectly formed and sensual. She waxed and her pussy lips formed a clear and well defined line, slightly swollen and inviting. Her legs were long and shapely. She smiled and then let blonde hair fall over her face before lifting it up in a playful smile.
"How about this? Snap a few... and when you are done I want to see them."
And he did. Several standing, several with her hands on her hips.
"Who do you think can see me? Is none better than some, my dear?" She was being mischievous.
He followed her inside - or more accurately he followed her gently and arousingly swaying ass inside. He undressed with urgency. There was no time for foreplay. She lay on her back on the pale grey sofa, legs spread wide to reveal an inviting pinkness. Pausing to admire her wanton position, he held his shaft and guided it, the foreskin half pushed back, directly to her entrance. He slid into the enveloping warmth effortlessly, and steadily embedded the length of himself deep in her slickness. The performance on the terrace had excited her too. She arched to lift her hips; he guided a pillow underneath her lower back. This had the effect of splaying her even wider. Kneeling and shifting a shoulder underneath her left leg he penetrated again til his tightly trimmed pubic hair was grazing her smooth pudenda.
Her hand drifted down her flank and then over directly to her clit. She closed her eyes as she manipulated it. "That speed, yes" she said, as he settled into a medium momentum. He reached up and began to massage a nipple. He bent and sucked on the other. He rose back to his knees as he felt his balls tightening, but he held off. Her hand was now rhythmically stimulating herself, a finger lodged firmly in her slit. He held her hip tightly and began to thrust faster. "Slow down a bit" she said. He paused with his cock almost entirely out, the head parting the entrance to her cunt, and then slipped deep in again. Her eyes closed and her head turned, she was an image of abandon. Her tits, topped with tight pink nipples, swayed with his thrusts.
She came in a series of convulsions. He maintained half a dozen strokes after and then pulled out, holding his pulsing cock to spurt a rope of cum above her belly button and onto her left breast.
They kissed. Carefully he caressed her flank with the back of his hand. He stood and walked to the kitchen where he pulled tissues from the box disfiguring the burnished darkness of slate. She was lying in the same position when he returned. He picked up his phone and snapped a shot. She smiled at him.
As he gently cleaned the puddled cum from her, he asked "did the performance excite you? Or the thought of being overlooked?"
"Yes, I was wet, wasn't I?". He nodded. He looked questioningly at her.
"I think I am a little excited at being seen and observed, and rather overwhelmingly excited by what it does to you."
"And the photos?"
"You know that! We've discussed this before. You store them carefully, and it is actually flattering that is what you find exciting when you travel. Better that than you looking at something else, but even if you did it still excites to pose for you."
She was shrugging her dress back on. "Load them onto your laptop. I want to see. Meantime I can sort two glasses of that Sancerre you opened last night. We deserve it."
They sat under the awning on the terrace, the shade providing for substantially improved visibility on the screen. She dwelt on minor flaws. He gushed sincere praise - she was undeniably beautiful, and equally bold. "A winning combination." He commented.
"You aren't bad at this photography thing - and don't take this the wrong way - but you seem rather hit and miss in terms of quality. In the good ones it is unclear how much is you and how much that trumpeted new iPhone camera."
"Rather tricky to keep focused on lighting and technique when you are excited. Systems never work well when they overheat."
That earned him a consoling pat, but she had kept her eyes on the screen. "Shame really" she said.
"Shame in what sense. I am not sensing any shame..."
"Oh no, not that!" She was laughing, and offered a sideways glance, but her primary gaze was still directed very much at the screen. "What I meant was now is the time to really capture those special memories properly. Perhaps you need a proper camera... now that would be fun."
"Or perhaps I need a professional helper' He mused.
"I saw that smirk." Outrage, seemingly pretend, inflected her voice. "Don't get any ideas, you. I will not pose for a cameraman."
They did not speak; the sounds of wind and the city melded for an expectant moment. It was his turn to arch an eyebrow.
