If you have not read our postings I'll tell you what we look like. Firstly, this is all real. We are an early thirties couple, I am 5'10", in reasonable shape. My wife Gail is an exceptionally beautiful and intelligent woman, soft spoken and very shy. She is 5'7" with a young girls figure, long shapely legs, small breasted, and a picture perfect behind. Her light brown hair blondes in the sun and she has the loveliest green eyes. I am from Chile, where we are living and working now, Gail is an American.
Every summer we take our holidays in and around the South of France. A few years ago while visiting France we met Tamara, an elderly British lady living in Cannes. Gail and Tamara quickly became friends. Through that friendship we were introduced to many very delightful people, and especially one Italian couple, Giancomo and Gabriella, with whom we quickly cemented a strong bond. All rights reserved
For our holiday this year, we traveled business class at the expense of the shipping company we were involved with in Italy. During the flight Gail and I talked about the Christmas visit from our friends from Italy, Giancomo and Gabriella. It was the third time they had visited us in Chile, and we liked that it was possibly becoming habit. Each summer we would spend most of our holidays with them. This year's summer plans were to spend almost three weeks on Giancomo's yacht, the Gabbiano, sailing the Mediterranean.
We cleared customs in Paris and flew to Nice. As was our custom we rented a car in the airport and we started the short drive to Antibes.
Usually we would first stop in Cannes to visit Tamara. However, just before we left Chile our friend in Italy, Gabriella, called to tell us that Tamara had an emergency trip to the U.K. and would not be in Nice when we arrived. That changed our plans somewhat, and when we arrived in Nice we headed for our favorite hotel in France, the Hotel Du cap in Cap d' Antibes. We had called for reservations just five days ago and were told no rooms were available, but we finally prevailed after calling back for a fifth time.
The Hotel is perched on the top of a ridge about 20 to 30 feet above the sea. Our plan was to relax and sun for three days before we went to Monaco to board the boat. We arranged a cabana when we checked in with plans to spend as much time as possible relaxing in the sun, before heading to Monaco.
The twenty one remaining days of our holiday would be spent aboard the Gabbiano, a magnificent yacht owned by our friend Giancomo. Marbella Spain was our first planned stop and Giancomo suggested we then sail to Tangiers.
The cabanas are irregularly arranged between the Mediterranean and the hotel. Pathways connected the cabanas with one leading to the sea, which was about fifteen or twenty feet below our cabana. The way the limited space was arranged gave each cabana reasonable privacy. Only if we stood on our patio could we see the patio and entry to the cabana on our left or right.
Gail went into a corner of the dark cabana and undressed, then tucked a towel just above her breasts. When she stepped out to the patio she laid another towel on her recliner, then slowly took the towel from around her and lay naked face down on the recliner, and I coated her with sun lotion.
A young man brought sliced fresh fruit on ice and coffee that I had ordered. We dozed lazily, hardly talking for hours. I sat up and stretched for my book, planning to read.
Moments later I heard talking and looked up to see a young couple walking toward our patio busily chatting, carrying wide canvas bags. I watched as they approached, the man, on the left of the pathway, would walk directly beside our patio. I wondered if he would be able to see Gail's naked legs and behind as he walked by.
The young lady was about Gail's height, refined looking, with her short blond hair perfectly cut in layers. As they approached I recognized English. She carried herself beautifully, her long neck giving her an air of haughtiness. She was looking straight ahead while walking and talking, they exchanged comments, and I noticed her yellow swim wear covered by a thin see through beach blouse that hung to thigh length.
As they walked by our patio the man looked up at me and smiled, "Morning" I said.
He nodded, "Good morning."
The woman looked at me, while continuing her conversation, and without so much as acknowledging my existence; she continued talking and looked away. From the side she looked thin, small breasted, and very elegant.
As they passed I could see that the back of her swim wear was indeed a thong. In the ten or fifteen seconds that it took to watch them go by, I thought, "She is stunningly beautiful."
They walked into the cabana on our left.
Gail raised her head. "Would you put more lotion on my back please," she asked. I stepped over and sat on the edge of her recliner, squeezed several dollops of lotion on her back and behind. "Might as well have fun while I rub," I commented.
Gail questioned, "Did someone just pass by?"
"Yes, a young couple," I answered.
Gail twisted her head to look up at me, eyes, squinting, and a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. She looked so beautiful at that moment. "Could he see me?"
I shook my head, "I don't think so." I was rubbing lotion on the cheeks of Gail's behind. "They are in the next cabana," I said.
I had been reading in the sun. It was hot. Gail was lying on her back and the view over her shoulder across her breast was to her painted toes was enticing. I took the two steps toward her recliner and sat on the floor beside her, resting my hand on her upper thigh. "Why do we feel so comfortable when we are in France?" I asked.
Gail looked at me with a knowing smile, "I know why," she replied. "Ask me that again when I have an hour to tell you." Gail raised her right hand as a shield against the sun, "Plus, it's like coming home."
I nodded, "Want to go in the water with me?" I asked.
"Not if you're going to the sea, the water is too cold," Gail answered. Edging my feet into my flip flops, I grabbed a towel and started toward the water. "Careful," Gail chimed.
I walked the short distance and stopped at the edge of the small cliff looking out over the Mediterranean. It was just like when we did the same thing looking out over the pacific when in Chile. When you can't see the other side, they all look ominous and deep. In a few days we would be on the Gabbiano sailing this sea.
While standing there I saw movement to my right and turned to see the young man from the next cabana walking toward me. For a hotel that was full there certainly wasn't much movement in the Cabana area.
The young man approached me and asked, "Is this where you go into the water."
"Yes," I replied. "There's a ladder there," and I pointed to my left. "Or you can jump in from up here."
He walked closer to the edge and looked down. "It must be fifteen feet. Is it deep?"