...Right now, I'd like to be on a certain beach I was on this summer. It's very early in the morning and no one is around. I've hiked my blue skirt up and tucked the hem into the waistband so I can wade in the water, enjoying its coolness and the pebbly bottom massaging my feet. I carry my flipflops in one hand, my bag over my shoulder.
There's another woman, her skirt also kilted up, doing the same not far from me. We move closer together, aware of each other but not acknowledging.
I bend over to pick up an interesting shell in the water, overbalance, and nearly fall in. Then a small warm hand is holding my arm, steadying me. I turn to thank her, and look into the most stunning pair of blue-gray eyes I've ever seen, in a cat-sharp pretty face, sun-lightened caramel hair dancing in the breeze. She has taken off the loose white Greek blouse she was wearing and now has only a dark blue halter bikini top on. I can't help it: I find myself staring at the soft half-moons of exposed pretty breasts, the tan firm belly. She is clearly European, not local. Which is perhaps part of why I stare, and certainly why she is exposing so much of herself.
She catches me looking, and says something soft and friendly in French. I reply, stumbling over the words. She asked me if I liked looking. I said, "Forgive me, I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable that I was staring." She smiles and moves her hand lightly from my arm to my hand. "Non," she says. "J'aime les jolies filles aussi." I don't know if she means I'm pretty also, or if she is commiserating with my girl-watching. It's irrelevant; she tugs lightly on my hand, and tilts her head. She asks me something, but I'm not sure what. "Je ne sais pas quoi tu..." She tilts her head again, looking mischievous, the tip of a pink kittenlike tongue darting out. "Allons-y.." She suddenly thinks she's overstepped a line or something, for she looks a little uncertain. "Is O.K.? You like...?"
Oh, goodness. Maybe this is some kind of bumrolling type thing; she's got some guy waiting over there and they're going to mug me. I'm a little hesitant.
"Je voudrais, mais...je ne vous connais pas..."
"Oui. Je m'appele Solange. Je suis...comme on dit en anglais? A student? Une étudiante. Ici pour vacance. Vous?"
"Lula. C'est ma vacance aussi. Mon francais...est un peu mauvais. Desolée."
"O.K. Mon anglais..I am learning, aussi." We are walking toward what is surely her stuff on the little rocky beach: a blue-striped beach towel and a ratty-looking straw bag, a pair of flipflops. "I am here with mes amies. Thomas et Marie, et Veronique. Ils sont...a l'hotel maintenant. Dorment. They sleep now." She sees the ring on my hand. "Un fiancé?"
"Bien sur."
"Mais..." she catches her plump bottom lip between her teeth. "Here? Ton fiancé?" She is now using the familiar "tu", I notice. That's just fine. I'm still staring at her smooth lithe figure and catching the scent of jasmine every time she moves.
I sturggle a bit with my French phrasing, but I need the practice. "Oui...Il est occupé ce matin. Il est d'ici, un local." He is indeed local to here. This is really why I came, of course. "Ah...dommage," she says. "Bien..."
I am shockingly bold in that moment. And also my pussy is as wet as my feet, for different reasons. "Tiens, Solange...ahhh...mon fiancé? Je l'aime seulement. Mais...j'aime les jolies filles aussi." I can't believe I am adding this next bit -- "Pour niquer. Tu sais?"
She grins again."He...does not...?"
"Non. C'est O.K. Avec une fille, c'est O.K. Tu sais?" He knows about my, ah, predilections. And he has made it clear that dallying with girls? Is not the same to him as making time with guys. Because he knows as much as I adore certain girls, and adore the feel of girl skin on girl skin, and the salty-lemony-musky taste of pussy, he is certain of my love. No other men for me, and girls, well. He is a heterosexual man, and the knowledge of me with a girl turns him on.
She nods. "Bien...allons-y? We talk, some...and walk?"
We walked along the beach, and I was thinking how and where we could be alone and not risking getting caught. I don't really want to get caught. Not here -- too dicey to get caught here, by a strange man, or something.
Turns out she and her friends are on a spur of the moment vacation, having hitched their way through southern Europe before the flight here. Turns out also they are, well, somewhat casual in their pairings. They've all fucked each other, Solange et Thomas et Marie et Veronique, in various combinations. Solange prefers girls, but she told me she had fucked a local boy the other night, "Un garcon trés beau, un peu stupide. Il pensait que je ne savait pas qu'il etait un vierge!" Her big "tell" that he was wholly inexperienced is that he did not know how to put a condom on, and wasn't quite sure of what he was doing otherwise. But he had a good cock, and she used it well. Still...she was horny today. And she liked pretty girls. Her hand grazed my breast lightly when she said that; my nipple immediately hardened at her touch and my pussy tightened.
I pointed at the old ruined rampart. "Pas la," she said, shaking her head. Too many people used it. There could be someone there now. We walked further to where there was almost no sign of human use. "La. She said. "C'est mieux. Vraiment abandonné." I looked where she gestured. There was a small ruined building, probably also once part of the ancient rampart, but crumbling more so, and the door faced the water. It was roofless, and therefore less likely to attract any human denizens. I hesitated, considering it. She leaned in close and I felt her lips on my neck, soft and moist, the tip of her tongue daintily sliding along my skin. I groaned softly.
"Allons-y," I managed. We went in.
It was dark, barely lit by the narrow open doorway, the stone walls cool and damp. It smelled like damp stone, age, and the Mediterranean. And Solange's jasmine and skin scent.
In the dark, her lips found mine, soft, juicy, probing tongue like melted chocolate exploring my mouth. I put my arms around her, sliding my hands along the soft tan skin of her back, finding the halter strap of her top, unhooking it. She helped me pull the straps down; I pulled the left cup of the top down to free her breast. I leaned down and took her little hard nipple into my mouth, my cunt so hot it felt swollen, barely contained by my panties. I sucked hard, but not too hard. She made a little noise, running her fingers through my hair, then said something soft and throaty, clearly encouraging. She pulled the right cup down and cupped her other breast, offering it to me. So I switched my attention, pinching the left nipple lightly.
"Dur!" She breathed into my ear. So I pinched it harder, and sucked the other tit harder for good measure. She groaned more loudly.
"Maintenant..." She announced, then gently pulled her nipple from my mouth. "J'ai besoin de ta chatte."
She reached between us and underneath my skirt, her fingers sliding under the elastic of my panties, pushing them aside. The cool air on my engorged bare twat, and the warmth of her hard little fingers nearly made me come right then. She slid a finger along the moist crease of my pussy and my clit, probing gently, rubbing my clit lightly before sliding her finger into me. A second finger entered me, and she pumped them in and out of me. I was on the verge of coming when she stroked my G-spot. Then she pulled the fingers out.
"Zzzt!" she said, chuckling at my protest. She knelt on the floor, and pulled me around so my back was against the cool stone wall. "Enlévé!" she said, gesturing at me. Well, that was easy: I pulled my panties down as she'd commanded. She hoisted one of my legs up onto her shoulder.
The second that wet warm tongue found my clit, I had to bite back a really loud moan. She licked me from asshole to clit, wiggling the tongue hard against my swollen clit, then dipping it down to slip it into my vagina. Then she licked me with the flat of her tongue several times, and I buried my hands in her soft hair, pulling her head even closer. Solange began sucking my clit, taking it hard between her lips and flicking it with the tip of her tongue. I exploded, forgetting not to make any noise, forgetting to watch the door, as I came, girl juice squirting out with each pulse of my orgasm.
