I’ve been away. Just for a few days. Across the water and further down into the land of siestas, senoritas and sangria. Oh, the sangria! That drink is designed to be swallowed by water – pool or sea, I don’t care.
That’s the thing about a holiday, losing all your cares. Casting off from the shoreline, leaving the anchor on the mainland, ready to drift out and away in my pea-green boat. Or some-such metaphor. Whatever I am talking about, it’s about feeling lighter and distanced from that world you left at the Departure Lounge. We even travelled lightly, only taking hand-luggage along for the ride. Impressive for the girl who lives for her hairdryer and straighteners and choice of shoes when journeying to a humid land (I won’t mention the fact that those items all travelled ahead of us in Mister’s parents’ car who went a week earlier to the villa we were renting).
The air was heady there. Intoxicatingly so. The southern coastline clearly picking up those Mediterranean rushes of wind and carrying them, sweeping into my lungs. It blew through my hair as I lay on the beach for that one day we walked and dozed on the fine golden sands. My shoes were off as soon as we arrived there – One of my little pleasures is that first footfall on a soft, sandy beach. Feeling the fine grains filter and shift around my toes.
We were in the company of Mister’s parents for the mainstay of the holiday, and as such, much small-talk was made. By the third day, we had exhausted that avenue, and having not slept well on the hard beds I was not the social butterfly that morning. I tried the small-talk, but I simply wanted to be left alone.
With Mister.
Have I mentioned that the air around us was intoxicating? Well, I was finding him as addictive as ever, more so having all the time of the day to dedicate myself to him. And I do like to be attentive to his needs. Sadly, certain…blowjob needs were spartan as I was suffering from the Mother Of All Ulcers. But this had its upside (you know me – always looking for the optimistic slant!) Gentle kissing. It turns me on like nothing else. Those soft, feathery fluttering kisses he knows how to do so well that tickle and send warm charges right to my pussy.
That third afternoon, his parents must have had enough of my glumness and went out for a walk around the villa estate. So to get things underway I excused myself momentarily from Mister to sneak away to our bedroom, remove my knickers and promptly returned to sit next to him, propping my legs up into his lap. It was all a matter then of waiting for the instinctual hand of his to creep up my leg, under the hem of my dress to stroke up along my thigh, tracing lines into my skin with his fingers and then find that nice little surprise I had for him.
He, of course, didn’t disappoint and within two minutes his hand had stopped dead at my hip, a frozen look on his face of shock and naughty potential. After what felt to me like an age, his hand continued around my hip and down to cup my pussy. I quite adore him holding me like that. Usually an index or middle finger will dip into the slit there…yeah, that’s probably why I adore it so.
I allowed myself the drift away to his hand’s movements under my dress. Closing my eyes to isolate and centre in on the triggering jolts he was delivering to me. I began to shift in my position over him, my legs parting to have his hand move more freely around the top of my thighs, fingers trailing everywhere, making me writhe slowly. With all my movements, I felt his growing erection nudge against my thigh.
You’re coming to the bedroom with me, now.
I didn’t need telling twice. Sure in the fact my cheeks were flushed and glowing in anticipation of what was to follow, I leapt up and stood before him, hand held out for him to join me. I like to lead my man to the bedroom. Something sweet in it as well as at the same time fairly raunchy.
I fell on to the bed with him, pulling him down to me. Our lips crushed softly together – One slight yelp to remind him to be gentle with his kisses. A moment or two to spend undressing one another. Being in a dress, I love for him to help me step out of my clothes – that helpful request to unzip me, his eyes gazing down the movement of the zip, revealing at first the red bikini top (what else to wear underneath on holiday?) and his visual confirmation of the knicker-less behind.
Things progressed very quickly after this. The slow, languorous to the point of torturous fingering I had received earlier needed balancing out. Mister could only restrain himself so much. My hand flew to his crotch, seeking out his sex. Wanting to hold him as fully as he had held me. For us, it’s always about possession in the sense of belonging to one another. Needless to say, his hands were all over my body, in my hair, over my breasts and down ever drawn to the slick wetness between my legs.
Soon we were panting through the stifling air. Our bodies prickled with the heat and the passion. A quick scoot over from me to the side of the bed to retrieve a condom from the drawer (and a quick chancing glance for Mister to stare at my arse) and he was slipping into me and we went through the urgent and frenetic paces to admit that joint orgasm we had been denied for the three days. With the empty house, I was finally permitted to make the room echo with my voice as he moved within me. He too, usually the quieter one, couldn’t keep in those low growls and moans. I love to hear him lose his restraint as it only immerses me further in the moment.
That’s what you need from a holiday – immersing yourself in the moment. Not worrying about what you need to do tomorrow or what you didn’t get completed yesterday. Enjoying the company you’re with and leaving things rest at that.
It was a sensation that stayed with me for a good few days after returning – a sure sign or a successful holiday.
Hot holidays indeed, you have me started me leaking. Hope the cushion doesn’t get too messed up!
Nice to hear you’re getting involved with my writing, Dean.
LP x
Both the sex and this post seem to have had the same curious quality… they were both well worth waiting for.
Nicely done. On both counts.
Thanks.
As you can attest – this was some labour of love this week!
LP xx
Summer, dresses and a lack of underwear really are the most brilliant combination, aren’t they?
Well, I certainly think so, at least.
LP x
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