Remember the Summer

I remember the summer.

I remember returning back to the house at dawn, and I remember the dark blue sky from the open window out onto the veranda, and the cool breeze, lapping at the curtain's edge.

I remember too in the dim light the thin cotton bed sheets, all twisted and torn. And her skin, her form silhouetted against the dawn sky beyond the window, and her hands; expert, caressing.

That summer. A seaside town, the villa up in the backstreets at La Q, where by afternoon, the shutters are all down and only the poor kids play. There are distant sounds up from the beach, muted in the thick hot air of the narrowing alleys. And the shadows are no longer cool, no longer any refuge from the August heat.

Nadia is sitting on the sofa in the living room in a slight, simple dress with her bare legs crossed, one swinging up and down rhythmically on the other. She looks intently at the stone tiles, her face suddenly sad, her large brown eyes flicking up to look across at me, naked to my shorts at the table opposite. This is an afternoon gone too hot, itchy and sticky and aching to move around.

She stands suddenly.

"Let's do something!" she says and moves over to put her arms around my shoulders. "I'm bored!"

Down to the car then, the engine on, the roof down and away.

"Let's just go somewhere we've never been before and do something we've never done before," she says, smiling into my eyes irresistibly.

I want her badly even then, even as I am trying to remember the quirks of this ridiculous hired car's gearbox and the sudden turns of the small town streets. I am looking at her legs, tanned and smooth, one crooked up against the car door. I want to run my hands up and down them. I want more than that though. I want to take them in my mouth somehow. I want to lick them from toe to pussy, I want to rub my cock along them, cum on them, for her to make me cum on her legs, wanking me with her cute, tiny feet...

"LOOK OUT!"

A near miss, but we are safe now and heading for the hills, up above the town. We stop at the premonitory and get out. She is furious with me, stomping off with a slam of the car door.

"You could have got us killed!" she shouts.

We argue. I say I did say I was sorry, what more can I say? What more is there to say than that? And she is saying that I have to be more careful and sometimes she doesn't know where I am and we are arguing now and then I can't stand it any more and I just grab her. By the hair. I am standing very close to her and I grab her thick dark hair and force her to look at me and then I kiss her on the mouth, hard and firm. Pulling away I finally tell her, "I wasn't looking at the road because I was looking at your legs and your body and dreaming how much I wanted to fuck you."

It stuns her into silence. I pull her close to me, press her against me, I release her hair and begin to kiss her neck, her cheeks, my other arm rising to her left breast, holding it, caressing it slowly, then suddenly tweaking her nipple. She starts, and I know I will have her now. I can practically feel the connection jolting between her nipples and dampening pussy.

Later, after I had shot my load with a heavy grunt straight across her tits and up, up onto her jaw and neck, and as my fat dick glistened in the afternoon sun with the glaze of her cunt cream, she calms and tells me, with a giggle, that she liked that sudden aggression in me. We had fucked right next to the car in between a stand of olive trees and a run of low rocks that walled off a sunken field from the road. Mischievously, she tells me she'll see what she can do about making me feel that way again, soon.

And thus the night, the dawn and we are coming back from the beach again, up from the empty strip and the slow Mediterranean water, sighing up onto the night-cooled sand. We are all a little nervous. All of us, because Mark too is there, the stranger Nadia flirted with, the man she wanted to use to trigger that aggression in me again, the pawn in a game that has now gone so far off the tracks none of us now know where it is going.

I am angry still with her sluttishness earlier too, at the beach bar where she'd laughed and said she thought that guy's pecs made him look like superman. And then she'd danced with him and that guy had become Mark and I'd pulled her away, taken her out onto the beach and shouted "what the fuck do you think you are doing? Are you trying to humiliate me?" And she'd feigned surprise, feigned disbelief, but with such a tarty arrogance I'd wanted to slap her. In return, to signal the game had already started, she'd grabbed for my cock and demanded that I fuck her again, right there on the beach. Right where Mark would see us.

"Show him I'm yours," she'd said. "Show him."

And now, much later, the game continues, up the narrow street to the house and the veranda and the window, and the curtain lapped by the cool dawn breeze. We are not sure how to proceed. But we all want it, we are all excited, tired, conscious that this is a crossing over into somewhere else. Finally, it is Nadia who leads, putting her arm around my neck as we sit on the couch, Mark opposite, and kissing my ear and neck, slowly, seductively. Then I am feeling for her breasts, the dim light, her hand caressing my chest.

And the spell is cast.

Later, I notice Mark is sitting hunched forward towards us, masturbating his long cock, watching us with a magical intensity, watching us as he had done on the beach earlier, when I had shown him Nadia was mine. When I had felt too, strangely, that his watching us was making me harder, hornier than I'd ever felt before. When I had noticed too how his watching had elicited such obscenities from Nadia, as she urged me to fuck her like a whore, to treat her like a piece of fuck meat. And she had seen how it had turned me on, turned me frantic with sex. She had seen it there in my eyes, seen it and triumphed, seen it and known that everything would be different from now on.

But now, Nadia is naked and lying back in the corner of the couch with her legs spread over mine as my fingers bury deeper into her sopping pussy. Her moans are growing from slight whimpers to an uncontrollable shuddering. She cums on my fingers with a shout as I bite her ear lobe. Mark too lets out some animal sound, forcibly holding himself back from the edge.

Then he too is on her. His dick has little trouble in finding its target, deep down her throat. I watch him in the dim light as he stands next to the couch, fucking my girlfriend's mouth as I bury my face in her cunt lips, licking and sucking and drinking her elixir. I will make her cum again, right with his cock down her throat, I am thinking, as I slowly wank myself to readiness.

It is all so disconnected, distorted now. Time has removed itself with our clothes, with our inhibitions. I no longer know if it is still night or day. Nadia looks up at me exhausted, her eyes a strange, satiated glaze. Her face is covered in our cum. Then there is the sight of Mark's balls swinging to and fro as he fucks Nadia steadily, slapping against her arse. Then there is an orgasm that shoots like a bullet of raw pleasure through the back of my head, as I empty myself again into Nadia's cunt. Inside, my seed mixes with Marks, dribbles out onto the sofa, and Nadia bends to lick it up.

At one point too, I awake with her warm lips around my dick. She chugs on my meat contentedly as the sun scatters blocks of gold across the living room floor. At another point, Mark is cumming, pounding her from behind with increasingly wild groans and a frantic pace, buckling in two as he unloads with a great cry, shuddering a last drop of seed out of his aching balls.

It is afternoon. Mark leaves. We return to the pile of sheets and cushions strewn across the sofa and onto the floor. We sleep until midnight, a deep and soupy sleep.

I remember that summer in La Q. I remember now the veranda and the open window at dawn, the dark blue sky and the slight cool breeze, lapping at the curtain.