Kate and I had been seeing each other for more than six months now. After crossing paths for ten years, we'd finally become an item last summer.
From the outset, we'd agreed to an open relationship. 'Open' in the sense that, while we would always be each other's primary lover, there would also - especially in Kate's case - be others. I readily accepted this: she was the most intoxicating woman I'd ever known, and I was determined not to let her slip away.
It was now January, and the weather was
literally
the worst on record. Frigid temperatures, blizzards, relentless wind... We were both getting cabin fever.
As a freelance photographer, I'd always travelled extensively for my work. Much of my time had been spent in the tropics, and I began thinking about where we could possibly go to escape the endless cycle of snow, freezing rain, and sleet.
I considered the options. The Seychelles: too far. Mexico: too crowded. Australia: too hot, now that climate change had taken hold down under.
I thought about the year I'd spent in Bali back in my early thirties. It had been a special time: lamp-lit nights with the sound of gamelan music playing in the distance, amazing food, friendly people.
While living there, I'd become friends with Jean-Marc, a Swiss-French anthropologist studying Balinese culture. We hadn't spoken for years, but I managed to track him down via Skype. He was still living in Bali, in the up-island town of Ubud.
Jean-Marc was overjoyed to hear from me again, and immediately extended an invitation for us to visit. He knew of a secluded, private bungalow that we could rent on the outskirts of town, and was happy to make the arrangements for us. I jumped at the chance.
Kate had never been to Asia, and at first seemed reluctant to travel such a long distance. But as she started doing her research, she became more and more intrigued by Bali, and by the town of Ubud in particular. The cultural capital of the island, Ubud is a town deeply steeped in Balinese art and tradition.
Finally convinced, Kate agreed to come with me. I splurged, and booked a one-month trip for mid-February.
___________________________________
We arrived at Denpasar airport after a 15-hour flight via Hong Kong.
The climate felt thick: hot, humid, with the scent of spices, wood smoke and diesel mixing in the air. It was still the rainy season, so there were fewer tourists about, and the pace was more relaxed than I expected.
Kate - exhausted from the long trip but wide-eyed with excitement - gazed out the window of the taxi as we drove up into the hill country towards Ubud. She looked a bit lost, but also tremendously happy.
Slightly flushed with the heat, her hair was pinned up off her neck. She wore a loose cotton blouse, comfortable silk harem pants, and practical sandals. Although she hadn't visited many tropical countries, she'd done her research for this trip, and looked every bit the seasoned traveller.
We arrived in Ubud late in the afternoon, and the taxi took us straight to the bungalow. Jean-Marc had invited us to visit him at his house the next day, after we'd settled in.
As the taxi pulled up the private drive, Kate stared, fascinated.
The old, colonial-era house had been built into the side of a large valley. Only one storey tall, it had a steep, pitched roof, and rested on tall wooden stilts at the front. It was shaded on all sides by a deep, open veranda. In the far distance, rice paddies shimmered on the other side of the valley. A small, winding river sparkled on the valley floor below.
There were no other houses close by. For Bali, the place was incredibly private.
I pulled our bags out of the taxi, paid the driver, and stood there with Kate, drinking it in. A stray chicken ran noisily across the pathway into the bushes. Kate jumped, surprised, and then giggled.
We walked to the house. Built back in the early 1900's, it was very traditional. Well-worn teak plank floors glowed softly in the late afternoon sun. There was a small, simple kitchen with a sitting area, an open living room, and a large bedroom with an antique four-poster bed. A mosquito net hung down over the bed, suspended from the ceiling. The home's wide eaves shaded the huge wrap-around porch from the tropical sun.
Outside, off the kitchen, was a large secluded courtyard. It was enclosed by a tall stone wall covered in flowering vines. An ancient outdoor shower was built into the far corner.
The place was more than I could have wished for.
Standing on the front veranda, staring far down into the valley, Kate looked mesmerized.
I took her by the hand, and said, "Jean-Marc said there's one more thing..."
Leading her down the steps at the front of the house, we walked along a narrow path densely bordered with high vegetation. There was a clearing up ahead. As we stepped out into the open area, Kate gasped in surprise.
A small, spring-fed infinity pool had been built into the hillside, overlooking the valley.
Kate squealed, clapping her hands with delight. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.
___________________________________
Bags unpacked, I introduced Kate to the intricacies of Balinese plumbing. While the bathroom had been updated with a western-style toilet and sink, it was the traditional outdoor shower that caught her attention.
"Jesus," she said, drinking it in.
"Want to try it?" I asked.
"Oh yes please," she responded eagerly.
She scampered into the house, and came back a few moments later, now wrapped in a bath towel and carrying a small bar of soap in her hand.
Stepping up to the shower, she let her towel drop to the ground. Her lithe body glowed in the setting sun. She had wonderfully firm breasts, a taut ass, and a willowy waist. Even after six months, I couldn't see her naked without getting intensely turned on.
Reaching out, she twisted the old-fashioned brass lever. Water began flowing generously from the showerhead.
She stepped in under the water with a sharp intake of breath, her nipples immediately hardening. Turning to face me, she said, "Join me?"
I stripped off my clothes and walked towards her, my stiff cock bobbing in front of me. She smiled at me coyly, and then turned away, soaping her breasts and shoulders.
Stepping up behind her, I placed my hands on her hips, and slid my shaft up against the crack of her ass. She sighed happily, handed the soap to me, and then leaned forward slightly, placing the palms of her hands against the wall.
"I've been waiting for this since we got on the plane," she murmured, bouncing herself playfully back against my cock. She shifted her legs slightly apart, and leaned over further. I stepped back to look at her from behind. The bud of her ass and her glistening pussy were on full display.
I started soaping her at the top of her ass cheeks, and then worked my hand patiently downwards, swirling a thumb gently over her asshole, then moving lower still, down over the slit between her legs, and then up the other side, to her clit.
"Yesssss,"
she hissed.
"Like that..."
I massaged her nub with two fingers, and then began working my way back down again. I fondled her labia, and - just for a second - slipped the tip of my index finger into her cunt before sliding my hand back up to her rear. She shuddered with excitement.
I gently soaped the puckered bud of her ass, stroking it with the tip of my finger. I watched it gradually relax, opening up to me. Easing my finger in part way, I began gently fingering her ass as she groaned audibly. Once or twice she thrust herself backwards, trying to push my finger deeper inside.
Teasing her, I stopped, and slowly pulled out.
"Noooooo..."
she groaned, waggling her ass from side to side in frustration.
Taking my cock in hand, I moved it up against the lips of her pussy, and began sliding the tip up and down her slit.
She shifted her legs farther apart, quietly humming to herself.
I pressed the head of my cock against her opening, and slid easily into her cunt as she pushed back against me. She stopped when I was half way in.
"There," she breathed. "Now
you
do the rest." One of her hands moved down and began fondling her clit.
