Smiling and whispering, walking hand in hand, we returned to the secluded villa I occupied, set on a small promontory on the island upon which the holiday resort had been built. The main pathway cut inland at this point and, at my prompting, my new friend and I struck off down the narrow and winding track which was the only way to my rooms, short of walking along the beach itself.
I was alone at this time, my intended companion on this vacation having cried off for reasons I have neither the time nor the interest to relay here. Suffice it to say that, right now, I counted my solitude as a blessing; if my regular girlfriend had been with me, I would never have the opportunity to strike up such a friendship as this.
I had expected we would have gone indoors, to the coolness so expensively maintained by the whirring air-conditioning unit adjusted to the comfort levels of those brought up in chillier northern climes. But my new friend stayed my hand. Instead, she sat on the white-painted concrete of the low wall which separated the private terrace from the track and beckoned me to join her.
It was still warm, very warm after the heat of the day. We were sheltered from the path we had just taken by a tangled mass of Jacaranda whose blooms and thorns made us all but invisible from any passers-by. Sat side by side, we once again kissed uninhibitedly, our tongues exploring one another's mouths and necks and earlobes.
My hands were already making urgent movements over the curves of her breasts under the thin cotton dress, the firmness of her nipples under my fingers making her moan against the passion of my kisses, while her fingers were fumbling, with urgent effect, with the buttons on my shirt.
She arched her back as my lips found their way down her neck and into the scoop of her dress, her hands already inside my clothes, so that I too tensed under her ministrations. Suddenly, she slipped off the wall from under my exploring fingers and took just a step away, turning to look at me with passion and lust in her eyes.
In a single unselfconscious movement, she slipped off her dress and discarded it casually on the quarry tiles of the terrace. Then, provocatively naked, she leaned back against the white-painted stucco pillars that held up the roof of the veranda.
I drew back half a step to admire her in her entirety. She was exquisite, perfectly formed. Her waist was elegantly curved and her buttocks taut. Her soft breasts were marked with dark nipples and just the suggestion of tan lines. Definitely a tourist, here to sun herself.
"You like what you see?" she asked, posing elegantly as if a camera were trained on her.
"Oh, God, yes!" I exclaimed, but quietly so as not to attract any unwanted attention.
She giggled, then spun on her heel and scampered up the two steps onto the veranda itself, which was just big enough for a couple of canvas chairs and a wooden table. It was shaded and private during the day; in the dark of the night, it felt wonderfully secluded.
She swung herself on the table and drew apart her legs, resting her heels on the top and looking me directly in the eye. She had the most beautiful vulva, soft and shapely outer lips which parted prettily to display the more sensitive areas within. I knew I had to taste her, there and then.
I knelt, my knees on the cool hard tiles, my chin resting on the rough surface of the plastic tablecloth and my tongue exploring those delightful sensual lips. She tasted as good as she looked, her moistness delectable as I parted her lips and sought out her clit with my tongue. It was, I knew, just what she needed; the strength with which he held my head and pressed my face between her legs made that entirely clear.
Now, my fingers are unusually slender, but long and strong. I have found that many women like to feel a touch inside, sometimes more than just a touch. Without taking my tongue from the delights of her lips, I brought up one hand and started exploring her moist opening with my fingertips.
"Gently," she whispered, breathing heavily, "Very gently."
I nodded as best I could - I did not want to take my mouth away from the delights for a second - and slid just one finger into her tight opening. She moaned aloud. I moved gently, rhythmically, synchronizing the motion of my tongue and my finger.
Moments later, she arched her back and cried out in ecstasy, releasing my head and slamming one hand on the tabletop. For a moment I thought she was in danger of falling right off the table; I supported her gently with my arms as she shuddered and panted with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
After a few moments, she looked down at me with a wicked smile on her face.
"You were wonderful," she said softly, "I think you've done that before."
"Practice make perfect," I responded, my own face split ear to ear with a grin.
I stood up to kiss her mouth once again, my own face still liberally moistened by her most intimate juices. She hesitated not an instant, licking her own juices from my lips.
Just at that moment, there was a noise in the underground, enough to be audible above the soft sound of the waves on the beach and the ever-present susurrus of insects. Her eyes opened wide in alarm. The noise was not loud enough to represent a human, but it was enough to remind us both that the darkness of the woods might conceal eyes more capable of remaining silent.
I look her hand and helped her down from the table; she was still slightly unsteady after the powerful orgasm which had racked her petite frame only moments before. I bent to recover her dress then, giggling like schoolgirls, we ducked inside the villa.