Tags: BDSM, Fsub, Mdom, Bondage, Oral, Blowjob, Cum swallow, Voyeurism
I hadn't been back to the Beach's villa since being witness to Jane Beach's whipping. I never spoke a word about it to anyone, but from that night onwards it occupied my thoughts more than I'd willingly admit. When I was sunbathing I'd remember the way she was posed. When I was watering plants I'd recall her under the cool spray. And so many times when I masturbated alone at night I'd remember her tensing muscles and her release as she orgasmed.
The problem was that Mr Beach was often having work done on his garden, and the excuses I made to avoid returning were becoming obvious. It wasn't that I didn't want to go back, in many ways I very definitely DID want to go back. But what if I saw something again? My Avo used to say "protect me from what I want".
Jorge was to be my savior. He was my unofficial mentor ever since I started working there. He was a gruff man, of very few words, but with vast knowledge of plants and the soil. He had a weather-beaten appearance, and rough hands from years of working on coarse plants and the parched earth. Even if he used few words I always knew where I stood with him.
And so that morning I was once again taking the van of tools and plants up the paved driveway of the Beach's villa. I arrived about 10:00, before the heat of the day had built, in the hope that I could get Jorge to help me unload and then be on my way again as soon as possible. I parked next to Jorge's pickup, which was still full of his equipment.
Mr Beach met me. He was warm and welcoming, and entirely appropriate, and the tension I'd been feeling was pretty quick to fade. Instead of going through to the garden he led me to the kitchen and got me a cold drink while we talked. I was honestly relieved. There was no awkwardness - just a silent agreement that we would not mention my last visit.
"Jorge is helping in the garden. I'll send him out to help unload the van", and with that Mr Beach started to shepherd me out and back to my van.
We passed the entrance to the family room and I looked out, through the wide glass doors that opened onto the patio, pool and lawn. Jorge was standing there, half in the shade of a large parasol, next to a low sun lounger. And on that lounger lay Jane, face down, and once again wonderfully naked. Jorge was very openly looking at her bare backside.
This was why I was being ushered out so soon.
Mr Beach, realizing I'd seen, just paused. He was watching my expression, but said nothing. I turned my head to look at him - to see if he'd seen me see them. He just gave me a relaxed smile and showed no other reaction. My nervousness returned in a single heartbeat, rushing through me in an instant. I scurried out of the house and back to the safety of my van.
For the next 15 minutes I unloaded the van. Heavy bags of materials, and assorted tools and hoses. I couldn't tell you what any of them were. My mind was elsewhere. I was remembering Jane's silhouette on the deck at the end of garden, and now the way she was laid out in full view - very much to be seen, viewed, enjoyed.
Everything was quiet. There were no voices, no birds in the air, no wind. So I stepped equally quietly back to the kitchen door. The house was cool and dim compared to the outside. I moved only as far as the arch between the kitchen and family room. I stood in that darker space for several minutes, with the loudest noise being my heart racing in my chest and my shortened breathing.
The garden was bright in comparison. Glare from the surface of the pool, and vivid next to the dim interior of the house.