Monthly Archives: July 2006

Well, From This Angle…

My parents returned from holiday the other day and the nice people that they are decided to take me out for a run in the car a spot of lunch. Which I had no intention of turning down, despite the fact that I would have to listen to the incessant holiday rundown. As some of our readers may already know, last summer my car got written off in a high speed accident and we are both lucky to still be here.

So they came round to pick me up and we had a jaunt in to our beautiful countryside. We stopped off at a quaint little country pub for lunch and I was well ready to eat by the time we arrived. My parents have got used to the continental lifestyle, eating far too late for me I was almost swooning by the time we got there.

The Inn had a lovely carvery on, so rather than wait for my order to be prepared I went for the instant option. I filled my plate with a selection of cooked meats and salad, hot food was certainly out with this hot weather. My parents decided to join me and filled their plates too. There was a lovely cottage style courtyard behind the pub with a row of picnic tables and umbrellas. You know the kind that have benches attached to the table so you have to cock your leg over to climb over the bench and sit down.

I took up position in the only shaded part of the table with my mother sitting next to me and my father opposite her. Boy, it was boiling out there and even though I was wearing factor 15 sun cream I didn’t want to run the risk of burning, so I was quite content to sit in the shade of the umbrella. My parents must have skins like pachyderms, they have a perma-tan and never seem to burn.

I pursued my cherry tomato around my plate and eventually speared it on my fork and I was just about to put it in to my open mouth when I was distracted. The guy on the opposite picnic table was sitting with his legs wide open wearing khaki shorts. Nobody sat opposite him therefore my view of him was uninterrupted. Now this would not have been a problem, only you could see up the leg of his shorts. Particularly the left leg! With my mouth still open and my parents contentedly talking amongst themselves, I noticed something making it’s way down his short’s leg.

OMG! It was his cock. Now, once again this wouldn’t normally be a problem. What more could you ask heatwave, idyllic setting, wonderful fayre…exposed cock. I looked up to check the guy out and this is when things started to go awry. He was about 70 years old and what’s more I think he saw me checking out his winkie. I placed the tomato in my mouth and started to chew and look nonchalant about the whole thing. I’m sure the smile I was trying to hold back escaped a couple of times.

It’s like people who cannot resist looking at a traffic accident, I felt compelled to check it out again. Was it his winkie or was it his bollock? The slight shadow his shorts were casting over his privates was not giving me chance to discern whether this was his cock or his ball bag.

It was very difficult but I managed to eat and talk to my parents whilst milling the whole thing over and not give myself away. A true professional cock watcher in the making. LOL. I finished up my lunch and as I placed my cutlery down on my plate for the final time, the old flasher got up and left.

As soon as he was out of earshot I told my mother. Do you know what she said and this is no lie? “Why didn’t you tell me when he was here?”. We both laughed and my dad who was completely oblivious to the whole thing sat looking quizzically at us. So the moral of this story…you guys out there make sure you wear underwear under your shorts, it’s safer.

My Aphrodite – Part 2

As I recounted on Saturday, we spent some time in Greece in 2004. A month for Suze, a week for me. While this was a welcome break for me it had a couple of drawbacks. Circumstances dictated that I could only spend a week out there, which is hardly time to settle in and unwind from work. Whereas Suze got a month, albeit a working month’s break from the UK. The other problem was trying to fit a month’s sex into a week, in a hot climate.

Initially this was not a problem. For the first 48 hours my libido and enthusiasm prevented me from feeling the fatigue of my constant sexual exertions, but eventually it hit me, like a sock full of wet sand across the back of the neck. Suze found me when she came back from a morning/lunch-time shift at the bar where she was working, slumped by the plunge pool in a sun lounger, fast asleep. Luckily I had had the sense to lay under the covered area of the terrace next to the apartment, otherwise I would have been lobster pink when she found me. She joined me, apparently, for a couple of hours sleep, before waking me for our evening meal.

Tangent alert! Greak food is amazing, fantastic, delicious. Olives, Feta, Halloumi (Yes I know it’s Cypriot but Greek Cypriot), Humus, the lamb, the pork. And have you ever been Mezed? If not try it, it is, to put it in it’s simplest form, death by food. The Greeks will sell it to you as the social sharing of a multitude of different small, beautifully prepared dishes. What actually happens is that they tempt you with such gastronomic delights that you are in serious danger of bursting your alimentary canal. Preparation for a Meze involves not eating from the night before until your evening Meze, then accepting that you will not feel comfortable eating again until the following evening.

Back to the original jist of my posting. We went out for a Meze, both being completely shagged out, and fell asleep again until the sound of the rustic dust-cart (garbage wagon for North American readers) woke us at around eight the next morning. I say dust-cart as it was a cart, pulled by a donkey, with a leathery skinned, ancient looking guy hopping on and off to empty the bins. Apparently the motorised version of said vehicle was awaiting parts from Athens, apparently.

Suze had an evening shift so she we took the car which the bar owner had lent us to the hills, hoping for cooler weather and a nice picnic. Outdoor antics in Greece are bit difficult as the soil is often rocky and devoid of vegetation, so plenty of blankets were packed along with the food and gallons of water. Not for the first time, it struck me as I wrote that sentence; Whatever we do, Suze and I, always involves making provision for sex wherever possible. Is that wrong? Are we obsessed? No and Yes in that order I think.

After negotiating the quaint (rough, narrow and often treacherous here if you wish) and certainly interesting Greek mountain roads, we found a pull-in. Or at least somewhere wide enough to abandon the car and still allow another vehicle to pass. We unpacked and yomped our essentials off into a nearby olive grove to find some shade. We set ourselves up under an ancient olive tree, looking out over the valley.

We ate, drank a bottle of local wine and chilled out. Suze was wearing little to begin with but decided to get naked. We were, with the exception of noisy herd of goats, alone. She stood in front of me and turned her back and placed her legs just over shoulder width apart. Then in the cheesiest way possible she undid the bikini top she was wearing and threw it over her shoulder towards me. This would have been quite effective it had landed on my face but instead it got tangled in the branches of the olive tree. Suze wiggled her hips at me, she’s very good at that and has a beautiful arse. She turned, with one arm covering her boobs, doing her best coy look, one finger in the corner of her mouth.

She turned away from me again, dropped her arms and pushed her shorts and bikini bottoms in one go to her ankles. She stepped out of them and bent over without bending her knees to pick them up. This had the, obviously deliberate, effect of presenting me with her pouting pussy lips framed by her arse and hips. The girl knows what I like.

My own personal Aphrodite, raised herself up, turned to reveal her awesome bosom and walked assuredly toward me. I was laid on top of the pile of blankets we had brought propped up on my elbows, the goddess stooped and pulled me towards her and kissed me with full, luscious lips. She grabbed my t-shirt and yanked it over my head, then pushed me back onto the ground. My sandals were removed next, followed by shorts, leaving me naked, except for the erection I was wearing.

She kissed up my legs, bypassed my groin and nibbled at my nipples. My hands reached up to caress and squeeze her breasts. I stoked her back and pulled her close to me. Our movements were slow, our eagerness to explore each other tempered by the midday heat. Her weight rested comfortingly on my erect cock.

Suze raised herself to her knees and straddled me, guiding my cock into her with her hand. Suze then embarked on a kind of slow-motion sex riding me in a lithe, sensuous way that was far more provocative that a frantic bang ever could be. She came only when I arched my back as my orgasm gripped me.

Even this exertion was too much for Suze in the heat, almost immediately she collapsed next to me. We both drifted off to sleep and were woken by the sound of goats eating the remains of our picnic.

My Aphrodite – Part 1

I original posted this last year, but the weather has me thinking about Greece again. Hot, hot, hot here in the UK at the moment. It brings back some great memories. Part 2 tomorrow.

In 2004 Suze got to go to Greece for a month, on a working holiday. One of our friends knew someone, who knew someone, who owned a bar so Suze jumped at the chance of a bit of Sun and Ouzo. I joined her for the last week as my MD wouldn’t have taken too kindly to “Can I take four weeks off when the rest of the office is on vacation?”.

As regular readers are aware we are not strictly monogamous, so long as we tell each other about our occasional extra-relationship encounters. But Suze, despite the temptations which presented themselves, didn’t dabble. Probably for several reasons, the heat, being knackered after each shift and not liking hairy chests, so that eliminated most of the Greek lads. There may have been an element of her not wanting to upset me by being unable to introduce me to a potential/last-night’s lover as she usually does. “Rubbish”, I hear you say, “She was at it with every available Greek Adonis in town”. But no, our relationship is about trust and honesty, we wouldn’t have been together as long as we have if we were not totally transparent with each other.

Anyway, bearing that in mind, by the time I landed on Greek soil, Suze was, to put it mildly, gagging for it. As was I. It’s like a bad film but when I saw her at the airport I dropped my suitcase and ran towards her. I picked her up and swung her round, not wanting to let her go. Rather touchingly an old Greek couple, meeting relatives smiled rather sweetly as they witnessed our reunion. Everyone else thought we were just mad. In the taxi on the way to the apartment we held hands and kissed, I opted not to whip it out there as the hersuit Greek taxi driver looked like he might dump us in the road half way to the small town where the bar and apartment were situated.

After saying “Efharisto” to the driver we raced upstairs and into the apartment. It was on the side of a hill overlooking the town and had a small plunge pool on the terrace. As you can imagine we went at each other like a couple of things possessed. “I need a shower before we get down to anything.”, I said to Suze. “I’ll join you”, she replied eagerly.

The shower was a double walk in with two heads and plenty of room to move around. Our clothes long before discarded we shut the sliding glass door behind us and began the serious business of soaping each other up. The lubrication of the shower gel on our skins, coupled with the pent-up passion of three weeks apart meant that we must have both been dripping with sexual juices. Not that you could tell because of the water and soap suds. It took us a while because of the incessant kissing and grinding which accompanied the cleansing process.

When we had removed the grime and rinsed clean we explored each other like strangers exploring new partners. Each of us knows the other’s body from our years together but the separation and associated celibacy meant that every touch was fresh and exciting, every inch of our bodies a new country to re-discover. We stayed in the shower, its moisture adding to the sensuousness of our encounter.

I kissed Suze’s neck, then down to her chest. Taking a wet, swollen nipple into my mouth I nibbled and sucked, massaging it’s twin with one hand and pressing Suze against the tiled wall. Suze moaned her appreciation as I slid two fingers of my free hand into her silky wet snatch. Her pussy was swollen with anticipation. It wouldn’t have to wait long.

Suze grabbed my head with both hands and raised me to her lips. We kissed deeply, tongues writhing in a serpentine dance. Then she pushed me away slightly and sank to her knees. My cock was, unsurprisingly erect. She eagerly attempted to take its entire length into her throat. She began to bob her head on my tool, but I was forced to stop her after a few strokes to avoid emptying my load in her mouth. I wanted, no needed to penetrate her properly.

A note of caution for all readers tempted to attempt shower sex, it’s bloody slippery so make sure you’re stable before you start thrashing about. Suze was able to wedge herself into a corner, legs spread a little while I grabbed her shoulder with one hand and her waist with the other. I’d like to say that I went at it for hours, but I didn’t. Suze managed to cum once and very hard, but I only just managed to hold back the torrent of passion, lust and associated bodily fluids to make sure she did. When I did unload into her it was as if a white searing light surged through my body. (For those of you who don’t know I see intense sexual sensations, usually at orgasm, in colour, syneasthesia or synesthesia)

We kissed and fondled for maybe ten minutes, before showering off, again and retiring to the bedroom to catch up on three weeks of sex.

To be Continued