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.