Gail Uses Sandor

For continuity you may read the Gail stories by date in the Loving Wives section. If you have not read a previous posting I’ll tell you what we look like. Firstly, this is all real. I’m 5’10, just turned 32, brown hair and eyes and in reasonably trim shape. I met my wife while in university and we are married eight years now. Gail is exceptionally beautiful and very shy, which belies her intelligence and soft spoken manner. She is 5’7” with a young girls figure at 30, small hips, long very shapely legs, small breasted, a picture perfect behind, light brown hair that blondes in the sun and just the loveliest large green eyes.

This story is a continuation of our holiday and last posting, Gail Dives with Richard.

*****

We arrived in Athens at 10.20, actually some minutes ahead of schedule, and we headed directly for our Rhodes flight. During the flight we were offered newspapers, and I choose the Nice Matin, the main Nice newspaper. In spite of my poor French I understood the many reports of crime on the Cote d Azur. I was surprised because in the years we had been going there, we never saw any indication of crime. I mentioned it to Gail, and she looked up from her magazine. “It won’t matter. France is still the only catwalk for the celebrities to prance on. It will always be popular.” In some matters, I thought, Gail was so gifted at bringing things into perspective.

Gail had worn dark blue shorts and a white Fila polo shirt. Her hair had colored clips and her makeup was light. Her heel strap flat shoes highlighted her long legs, and wherever we walked in the airport she attracted attention.

We cleared Greece immigration and customs, and, with some time to kill, meandered toward our Rhodes flight departure gate. When we boarded we were both excited that we would be meeting our Italian friends, Gabriella and Giancomo as soon as we landed.

The Rhodes was typical of old airports , appealing in that it seemed to offer more personalized service and operated at a relaxed pace. As we walked into the main hall Gabriella and Giancomo were there, waving the minute they saw us, Gabriella calling, “Gail, Gail”. Giancomo and I hugged, patted each others back and ranted on about how pleased we were to see each other. Gabriella and Gail were hugging, laughing, and chatting incessantly for five minutes, the two girls standing in the way of passengers trying to pass us, attracting onlookers, most of which were tourists.

Standing a few feet away, I couldn’t resist turning to look at the girls and to take in Gabriela’s beauty. How attractive they looked, standing there talking, oblivious to everyone’s gaze. Gabriela was dressed in her usual khaki shorts, with a pale green pocket front shirt that buttoned down the front. I noticed a hint of dark shading showing through her shirt on the side opposite her pocket. She looked so poised and elegant, her long legs tapered to simple brown leather sandals, her toenails painted red. I noted that Gail painted her nails the same bright color, and wondered which of the two started it first.

We had our luggage in fifteen minutes and we followed Giancomo outside the terminal where a taxi was waiting to take us to Mandraki Harbour, and the hydrofoil to Symi. The girls were standing good twenty or so feet away, as Giancomo and I struggled with the luggage with little help from the porter. We boarded the hydrofoil and began our forty some odd kilometer journey to this enchanting island, for what was to be one of the nicest, and most relaxing holiday we have had.

On the approach to the island we had a feeling that here, time stood still. An island with few cars, elegant harbours, beautiful beaches, and a mountainside full of attractive houses and small winding roads that, for some reason, made me think of the travels of Paul the disciple.

De-boarding the ferry was an item in itself. Everyone jostling, weaving between the crowd to greet friends. We finally identified our greeter, there were two, an older man, and a teenager who took charge of the entire luggage, and refused to allow me to carry my own computer bag. They had arranged two of the few taxis on the island, we piled into one, and they loaded our luggage and followed in the other.

When wound our way up the hill, past ancient and colorful houses, until we were at the crest of this small mountain. The house was actually a catacomb of tunnels, gardens, and two houses, with the main house covering three levels. The old man led us in and through the main house starting on the entrance floor where there was a kitchen, dining room and huge porch.

We went a level below which had an attractive apartment with full bath, a terrace with a table where one could eat, and it opened on the garden. We went up to the top floor and the master bedroom, which ran the full length of the house. Here you could look out at the sea, and even see Turkey in the distance. Giancomo suggested, “You take this room.”

Gail immediately exclaimed, “No, I prefer…we prefer the room downstairs.”

“Let’s throw a coin,” Giancomo said.

“No,” Gail insisted, “we are taking the apartment downstairs.”

We all gave in. Gabriela looked at me and smiled, flirting playfully she said for all to hear, “You can come up to look at the sea any time you want to.”

Before the old man left he introduced us to the lady who would prepare our meals while we were here, and then he said, “Another people stay in the front house…from America.”

We settled in with our luggage and were unpacked in minutes, then we wandered the garden, and looked out the windows at the sea on one side and a steep valley on the other side.

A half hour later we all met on the entrance level where the cook showed us where the drinks were kept. Giancomo opened the chest and found a few local brands. We chose Ouzo mixed with warm bottled water and the cook made it drinkable when she brought us a bowl of miniature ice cubes. We had been advised earlier that there was no water on Symi, everything was shipped in, and only bottled water was for drinking.

We were thrilled with the accommodations but Giancomo commented, “It takes me back in time, reminds me of my first holiday.”

Gabriella was less critical, “We’ll find places to have fun, and I’ve got a few names my friends suggested. But I am still amazed that he is here,” and she looked at Gaincomo, rather affectionately, I thought.

Giancomo looked at me, nodding his head, “Yes, it’s really the first no work holiday that I have ever taken,” he paused, then added, “I think.”

We didn’t waste time, agreeing that we would see some of the island before it got dark, then find a restaurant for dinner, and call it a night. How Gabriela informed the cook that we were going out, I don’t know, but she managed between languages. We called for a taxi which arrived half hour later. He drove us around the town, and we asked for suggestions on where to eat dinner. He spoke some English, and fluent Italian as well, so Giancomo made arrangements and Cornelious became our regular driver while we were in Symi.

We wound up in a restaurant called ‘To Klima’, located in a section above the harbour called Chorio. We chose a ‘lets all share fare’ and we wound up eating a variety of Mediterranean food as well as several vegetarian dishes which were simply out of this world. The first two bottles of wine were the typical retsina, but I really didn’t care for the flavor. Gaincomo agreed, so we ordered some German white wine. When we received the check, the wine was so expensive that we decided to go Greek from that night onward. The owner came out and spent more time then necessary thanking the girls for coming. The food was great, the view was spectacular, and we laughed, told jokes…some risqué, and simply relaxed throughout the dinner.

Afterwards we walked down the Kalistrata street with no real plans. A locale named Harani seemed to be getting the majority of the crowd, so we went inside to investigate. It was busy inside, people coming and going, dancing, European music blaring. Gabriela asked me to dance and whisked me away from the bar. We were dancing very few minutes when the song ended and a ‘too fast for us beat’ drove us back to the bar. Gail was gone. Giancomo pointed to the dance floor and I saw Gail dancing, the tall lanky man she was with looked like he might be a local. They were talking, or shouting, as much as dancing.

I bumped elbows with a young heavy set man on my right and, when I turned to apologize; before I could speak he smiled and said, “No problem.”

Gail returned a few minutes later, and Giancomo used the bar phone to call for Cornelious to pick us up. We finished our drinks and started to leave, to wait outside for Cornelious. Just as I started to follow Gail, the young man beside me tapped my arm. When I turned he asked, “Is that your girlfriend?” and he pointed to Gail.

I smiled, “My wife,” I stated.

He nodded and smiled, “That man she was dancing with,” he said, “when he asked her to dance he said really bad things to her in Greek. He’s bad.”

I nodded, not smiling any longer. The man nodded his head a few times and pursed his mouth confirming his statement. “Thanks… appreciate it,” I said, and I offered my hand in a handshake.

Just as we arrived back at the house a young couple was walking out the entry gate. Gabriela approached them, “You must be the guests in the other house,” she said. The man walked to the taxi door and said something to Cornelious, then came back and stood beside his wife.

In the semi darkness, we made introductions all around. We learned that Vivian and Gregory were Americans, on their honeymoon, “But we’ve been married ten months,” Vivian was quick to inform. Gregory was an American of Greek origin, his parents having been born in Greece. He was about my height, dark haired, with a charming smile from an advertisement worthy set of teeth, and though his manner was courteous, he seemed reserved. Vivian on the other hand seemed so very American, vivacious, spoke a little too loudly, and straight away made you seem like a friend. She was a head smaller then Gail, and a bit on the weighty side, but her short blond hair and charming manner made her very appealing. We all agreed we would meet again tomorrow, and they ran off for their evening of fun.

We walked through the entry and ended up sitting in the upstairs apartment, in the dark, looking out at the sea. We talked quietly, commenting on the different lights, trying to pinpoint where it was in relation to the port, our only knowledge of the island.

When Giancomo left the room we rose to leave. Gabriela stood up and offered me her cheek to kiss goodnight. In mid kiss she answered a question Gail had earlier asked about our going to the beach, “Yes, I think we should,” Gabriela said. “They have beach taxis near the harbour that will take us to any beach we choose.”

Giancomo returned to the sitting room and said, “I’ve organized some good wine for tomorrow. I called Italy, they’ll send some.”

I laughed, commenting, “You’ve got your priorities right,” and we said goodnight.

I opened our two bedroom windows. The night air was refreshing, and the darkness of the valley below mysterious. Our bed was the billowy kind you sink into, and when Gail climbed in beside me she was naked. I raised my legs under the blankets to pull off my shorts, not prepared to miss out on getting as cuddly as possible.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Gail said.

“Yes,” I answered. “It’s hard to believe that they can ship in enough water every day, for all this…”

“Oh,” I exclaimed, “I forgot to ask. What did the man you were dancing with say to you?”

“Just the usual. Where are you from, my name, when did we get here. Why?”

“When he asked you to dance, what did he say?”

“Do you want to dance,” Gail smiled looking at me as if it were a strange question. “And he offered his hands,” she continued.

“Did he say anything else, in Greek?

“Oh, yes. When he walked over he was rattling off in Greek. I smiled and shook my head, and then he switched to English.”

I told Gail what the heavy set man had said, and she sounded an “Uhmm,” not reacting critically or bothered.

Gail moved to her right side and spread her legs around my left leg, her groin pushed against my side. That was a signal I was used to, and loved. My left arm was under her neck and I extended my hand down her back and started touching the top of her behind. We touched and talked, mostly about the island, and seeing our friends again. Some twenty minutes later Gail rolled over and lay fully stretched on top of me. We both loved the closeness this created, and often she would fall asleep that way, and I would stay in that position for as long as I could take the weight. Tonight, my cock was hard and soon Gail slid down so that my cock was captured between her thighs. With my cock captured, she lifted her upper body so that her breasts were just off my chest, and slowly started to move from side to side, brushing her nipples ever so lightly across my chest.

My hands were exploring her back, her behind, and I placed two fingers on the underside of my cock pressing it against the lips of her pussy. When Gail finally moved from on top of me, she squatted, placing her legs on both side of me and arched her back to take me into her. With one or two rubs over her wetness she centered my cock and pressed downwards driving me full into her. Her only sound was a lengthy exhale of her breath in an “Oohhh.” There was enough outside light reflected in the room for me to see that her head was thrown back, one hand on my chest, with the other touching her left breast.

Gail kept her full weight on me, keeping me deep inside, making occasional movements forward. After five minutes or so she bent forward and with her mouth fully opened she kissed me. When Gail kissed me like this she wanted to feel close. I reciprocated, my tongue searching, her tongue flat against my mouth licking. For me kissing Gail like this was heavenly but, I often hesitated to do it because my beard would always leave her chin and cheeks red and scratched. I spoke into her mouth, “I love you baby.”

Gail didn’t respond, just kept kissing. She lifted her face and from an inch away, speaking softly her voice deep and lust filled, “Baby, tell me about Mrs. H.”

“Now?” I questioned.

“Please,” she said, the lust in her voice evident, as she lifted slightly so that my cock felt the suction of her pussy as inducement.

When Gail and I had just been married a short while we often spent Sundays in bed, all day, making love and talking. One discussion led to asking each other about firsts, or fantasies. I had told Gail of an encounter I had as a teen, with a Mrs. H. and Gail loved to hear the tale. She would usually ask specific questions, but only during my telling the whole story.

I began to recite the story for the fiftieth time. One year my parents took me to a religious conference being held in the United States, in upstate New York. People came from all over the world to hear the speakers at the two week gathering.

On the third day there, my parents volunteered me as a baby sitter to make up for the unexpected departure of one helper. I wound up helping another girl to watch a group of three to five year olds.

On the very first day, at about five o’clock the other babysitter, Becky, drove a few of the children back to their respective parents. Three boys remained, and Freddie, a cute little always laughing three year old was rolling a small train on the grass, with me beside him. Out of nowhere, a woman was standing beside us, and without saying anything she squatted down watching us play. I looked up, then back to Freddie, and then took a second look at the lady. She was squatted low, her knees a good two feet apart, and I could see her panties. I’m sure I starred, I was in shock and awe, and she was beautiful. That was Mrs. H., Freddie’s mom, come to pick him up.

The same thing happened again the next two days, each time her legs a little more spread, and on the third day I was so close I could actually see hairs on the side of her panties. On Sunday Freddie wasn’t there and I sadly thought the fuel for my nighttime fantasies was gone forever. Though the conference went on another week, the main part was over and we were now a much smaller group with no babysitting arranged.

Late that last Sunday morning I was playing with the remaining children in the small play area when I looked up to the toot of a car horn. Some 200 feet away, Mrs. H. was waving, beckoning me to come to her car. I waved back and walked over to her car. I stood by her window and greeted her, surprised and nervous with excitement that she was near... I smiled and greeted little Freddie in the back seat when she suggested, “Come around to the other side… get in.”

“I’ve got to ask a favor off you,” Mrs. H. began, and she turned in her seat, leaving her left foot on the floor, her right leg bent at the knee and lying flat across the seat and gear shift center. There again I could see clear up her thighs and the bottom of her panties. And, as hard as I tried not to, I am sure I spent most of the time starring up her dress.

Mrs. H. began, “Hadrian, now that camp meeting is over there are no child care arrangements. Since my husband is speaking all next week, and since you are staying as well, I was wondering if I could get you to watch Freddie.”

I was ready to jump for joy, kiss her feet, or anything else, just to continue my fantasy of her when I masturbated each night. Mrs. H. thought I was hesitating and added, “I asked you mother and she said you would, but I thought I’d ask you too… I could pay you.”

I floated back to earth and found my tongue. “Oh you don’t have to pay me Mrs. H., I’d be glad to stay with Freddie.”

“Thank you Hadrian, that’s so nice of you and it’s only until one o’clock each day.” We made arrangements for the next morning at 9:30 and she added, “We are staying in the trailer section, in the white and green trailer. And tell your Mom, I’ll feed you lunch when I come back to feed Freddie.”

The next day I played with Freddie, in and out of the trailer, until 12:15. when Mrs. H. returned. We sat in the trailer while she prepared a sandwich for me and something for Freddie. I was sitting at the table, my back to the wall, facing toward the inside of the trailer. Mrs. H. had put Freddie in a chair at the low kiddy table we had been playing on. When his food was in front of him Mrs. H. squatted down, like she had done in the park, and her whole panty clad pussy was displayed, in all its glory, just five feet away. As a reflex I moved my hand to touch my cock. Mrs. H. was busy feeding Freddie, sometime moving, spreading her legs wider, then closing them, then slowly opening them again. I was transformed, in love, hard, I was in ecstasy. I rubbed my cock raw that night.

I couldn’t wait for lunchtime the next day. I was obsessed. Mrs. H. was all I could think about. And it happened the same way. One the third day Mrs. H. returned a half hour earlier. She went to the back of the trailer and attended to some things then came out and prepared lunch. After she placed my sandwich in front of me she squatted to tend to Freddie, but she had her legs mostly closed. I could see a bit past her knees, nothing more. I starred in disappointment since she usually opened her legs right away. Then to my relief, her legs started to open, falteringly at first, then more, until I could see clear to her pussy, she was naked underneath, her hair spread agonizingly from thigh to thigh. I gasped loudly, if she heard me she didn’t acknowledge that she did.

When I walked home I was numb, my heart pounding, and my breathing was in short labored breaths. I will never be able to explain the thrill I felt, the trepidation that she wouldn’t be there tomorrow, and the sexual conquest, even though I thought she didn’t know that she was showing, and I was looking.