Aphrodite's Island Ch. 01

In the marble ruins of an ancient Greek temple high on the hill, the sound of an approaching motorboat penetrated Aphrodite's deep and dreamy sleep. The early morning sun glimmered on the rippling turquoise waters that stretched to the horizon all around, gleaming brightly on the white sand of the beaches, casting colour on the rocky slopes and olive trees of her island. Below her crumbling abode the island was mostly abandoned. Several ruined and deserted shepherds' cottages littered the hill, and, near a small harbour, stood a cluster of white-walled cottages.

Aphrodite turned on the couch on which she slept, rolling over onto her back, her long black tresses tumbling around her. Her naked body stretched languidly and she opened her eyes. Starting at her firm breasts, she ran her hands over herself, caressing life into her long brown nipples, then moving down to the black silken triangle between her thighs. Sighing, she looked across the water to see what had interrupted her sleep.

Approaching the island was a small boat, and at its bow Aphrodite saw a woman standing, her hand shielding her eyes as she gazed towards the island. Another woman sat further back in the boat with several suitcases.

Aphrodite smiled mischievously, and tenderly pinched her nipple between a thumb and forefinger. She kissed her finger, inhaled deeply, puffed out her cheeks, and started blowing a long firm breathe towards her visitors.

The warm breeze gusted down the slopes, shaking leaves from the gnarled olive trees and rustling the grass. A branch swayed, creaked, and crashed over some telephone wires. A window swung open in the bathroom one of the cottages, knocking a bottle of pills off the sill to the floor below, and a medicine cabinet door swung open. In a bedroom of the cottage, the breeze ruffled the hair of a sleeping man, and tilted the mirrored door of the wardrobe. The breeze drifted past another of the cottages, loosening a water pipe which started to drip onto the floor, at first trickling slowly, but increasingly to a steady flood. Down to the beach the wind meandered, where two pairs of damp men's swimming trunks, abandoned on the sand, rolled into the azure water and drifted away.

*

Standing at the front of the boat, Rebecca felt the warm breeze rustling her hair. She caught a scent of flowers and wild herbs, and inhaled deeply. The sight of the island, beautiful in the morning light, and the perfume of the breeze made her suddenly happy, and, if truth be told, slightly aroused. Her nipples hardened under the thin cotton of her summer dress, and she quickly crossed her arms over her chest and glanced back towards her fellow passenger to see if she'd been observed.

Angelique, sitting behind the small cabin, smiled back at her. They had met a couple of hours earlier when they'd boarded the vessel, learning that they were both headed for the same island.

Rebecca considered her fellow passenger. Angelique, was single, and four years younger than Rebecca's 38 years, and had planned a week of solitude, alone with her laptop, to work on a novel she was writing. Ordinarily Rebecca would not find herself in the company of someone like this: while she was neat, dark, and intensely well-organised, the French woman seemed slightly scruffy and rather bohemian. Her short bob of blond hair was a windswept tangle of curls knotted in a bandana, and her nose was decorated with a silver stud. She was dressed in leather sandals, baggy khaki shorts, and an Indian blouse that gaped over her rather impressive cleavage; to which Rebecca had noticed the sailor at the helm helping himself to frequent glances, which Angelique seemed to neither mind nor avoid.

Rebecca, on the other hand, had her dress buttoned nearly to the neck, although her considerably smaller breasts would not have offered much in the way of cleavage even if she was dressed in more revealing attire. She and her husband Barry had planned a week's holiday together, but several days before he had been ordered to attend an urgent meeting. The holiday was booked and prepaid through an online booking agent, so Rebecca decided to venture out alone; had promised to fly from London to join her as soon as he could get away.

As she stood watching the approaching shore she consulted her schedule on her blackberry.

"Arrive. Unpack. Beach (weather depending). Lunch. Rest with book (20 min sleep if required). Romantic walk on beach. Drinks (white wine -- 2 glasses). Romantic dinner. Early bed. Sex."

She quickly made amendments to compensate for Barry's absence, deleting the words "romantic" and replacing "sex" with "book". So far her holiday was going to plan.

"Your cottages are number 3 and 5," the boat's pilot told them once they'd drawn up alongside the jetty, stealing a final visual grope of Angelique's bust. "We delivered fresh food this morning."

""One of the other cottages is occupied... two men... together," his bushy eyebrows lifted conspiratorially. The sailor was a man who held the opinion that, with very few exceptions, men who didn't come from the small archipelago where he had been born and always lived were homosexual. Especially men who took holidays together.

"Otherwise... you are alone here. The caretaker comes on Monday and Thursday to check if everything is ok, and to bring supplies. You can call if there is a problem..."

He handed the women their keys, and threw the boat into reverse, and with a farewell stare at Angelique's chest, left the island.

*

The morning breeze brought Mike to painful consciousness. His mouth tasted sour, and every thought pulsed through his brain like a red-hot blade. His eyes resisted every effort to open, and then tried to focus on the disarray around him. Several empty beer bottles, and an empty bottle of ouzo.

He groaned out aloud. The memories of the night before trickled back, each one eliciting a jab of agony between his temples. He and Reilly had arrived in the afternoon, and had celebrated with exuberance at the beauty of the island that they had all to themselves. Several beers with their dinner... then some ouzo. Finally, down to the beach under the moonlight, to finish the bottle. They'd stripped off their trunks, plunged into the sea...

From the neighbouring room he heard a groan echoing his own.

Reilly stumbled through, a towel around his waist.

"Aspirin... coffee..." he mumbled.

"In the bathroom... get me two... make it three...," Mike replied.

Reilly reappeared , and dropped three pills into Mike's hand. After swallowing them down with mineral water, Mike collapsed onto the bed, covering his eyes with his hand.

"I'm never going to drink again," he moaned.

He reconsidered.

"At least not until this evening."

*

After unpacking her suitcase, Rebecca went out onto her balcony and looked down towards the beach. Her cottage was on the slope above the others, and she looked over the rooftops at the glistening see. There was some rippling a hundred feet out, and she thought she saw some shapes... maybe porpoises. She went back into her room and fetched the pair of binoculars she'd packed. When she scanned the sea again she couldn't find them, but she continued to look out, enjoying the warm sun on her skin.

The sun glinted off something in the cottage immediately below her, and she lowered her binoculars . Through the glass door she saw a figure, sprawled on a bed. As she adjusted the focus she realised that there were two figures, both men. The one was lying with his head on a pillow, a tangle of sheets wrapped around his middle, the other was lying across the width of the bed, flat on his front, naked. The room was in total disorder, as if the aftermath of a most vigorous spate of passion.

"Oh my!" she thought.

Even if it wasn't her own brand of pleasure, and since she seemed to have been deprived of her planned romantic getaway, it seemed some small recompense to be able to vicariously participate in someone else's erotic adventures.

A knock on the door interrupted her mild titillation.

She opened it to find Angelique, looking even more disordered than before.

"Can I use the phone.... mine doesn't work, and my portable doesn't get reception," Angelique gushed in accented English. "My apartment is flooded... water everywhere."

"Sure... come in," Rebecca smiled.

They tried the phone in Rebecca's cottage; it too was dead.

After several unsuccessful attempts, Angelique was growing frustrated, and Rebecca put a hand on her arm to comfort her.

"Don't worry... the caretaker is coming on Monday, and you can stay here with me until then," said Rebecca.

In truth she was relieved to have some company, even though Angelique wasn't her type. Angelique's full red lips broke into a broad smile, and she threw her arms around Rebecca's neck to give her a grateful kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, this will be such fun!"

And so, Angelique fetched her bags, and returned to announce that she was going to explore the beach. Rebecca decided to stay behind and get settled, and installed herself on a chair on the balcony with a magazine. She glanced inside to see Angelique stripping off her blouse and shorts.

Her breasts were large and firm, and evenly tanned. Her nipples were big, with large brown areolae covering the their summits. Her only tan line was a white triangle over of her round buttocks crotch, and between her legs Rebecca could see a tangle of bushy blond hair, through which her vulva peeped, pink and fleshy.

Angelique quickly covered her quim with a pair of black bikini pants. She glanced up, and, catching Rebecca's gaze, gave her a smile and quick wink.

*

Reilly drifted back into consciousness, no less painfully than before. From the other side of the bed he heard Mike groaning. His headache, if anything was worse. And there was another ache, from anoter part of his body.

He reached down, and wrapped a hand around his cock. His rock hard cock.

He had never, even in his most erotic adventures (of which, admittedly there hadn't been that many... but still) experienced an erection of this magnitude and insistence. He sat up, suddenly aware that he was naked, with a hardon to end all hardons, lying on his best friend's bed.

Mike rolled over. Reilly stared.

Mike seemed to be in the same state.

Until now, Mike and Reilly had been close friends, and had done many things in each others' company. Sometimes, like the previous night and occasionally in changing rooms and shared bathrooms, they would be naked, and neither were prudish nor unduly titillated by glimpses of each others' bodies. But, until this moment, neither had ever seen the other in a fully aroused state. And both were in an impressively aroused state.

Reilly stared. Mike stared.

Mike's cock, long and coffee coloured, stood proudly, pressing against his belly, curving to the left, tapering to where his foreskin peeled away from a pulsing aborigine crown. A thick vein throbbed along its length, and his balls hang slackly in their nest of black curls. Reilly's member jutted outwards, almost perpendicular to his body, thicker and slightly shorter than his friend, the creamy white skin of his shaft in stark contrast to its deep crimson bulbous glans.

Reilly scooped up his towel, and rapidly covered himself. Mike, likewise, pulled the rumpled sheet over his body. Reilly stood, and retreated to his own room.

Mike, bunching the sheet around him, stumbled into the bathroom.

After a few seconds he called to his friend.

"Where did you put those aspirin?"

Reilly, his towel wrapped and tied around his waist still only barely disguising his turgid penis, entered.

"In the bathroom cabinet, where you left them."

"Bathroom cabinet? They were on the windowsill..."

Mike looked down, then stooped to the floor behind the basin to retrieve the paper box of capsules from where they had fallen, from the windowsill.

Reilly lifted a glass bottle from the medicine cabinet shelf.

"What are these then?" he asked.

"Never seen them before..." Mike frowned, and read the label. "Viagra forte... prescription only... for cases of severe impotence. Dosage -- half to one pill daily."

*

An hour later their headaches had subsided with the help of (genuine) aspirin and several cups of coffee, but their aroused genitalia had shown known intention of abating.

"What about a plunge in cold water?" Mike suggested.

"We could try. Lets go down to the beach... have you seen my trunks?" Reilly asked.

Mike dredged through his memories.

"We left them on the beach.... After the ouzo..."

Arriving at the beach, wrapped in towels, and discovering their swimwear vanished, the men agreed to swim nonetheless. After all, the beach and, to their knowledge, the island, was theirs alone. They nodded to each other, dropped their towels and sprinted into the water, where they sunk below the cover of the water and cavorted in the deep clear cool sea.

*

Angelique had enjoyed walking the length of the bright white sandy shore, and had lay back on the rocks at the end of the cove, closing her eyes and languidly allowing the hot sun to warm her body.

After some time she heard some voices and splashing, and shielding her eyes beneath her hand, she spotted two men swimming in the water near the cottages. Deciding to make her way back across the beach to introduce herself to her neighbours, she rose. The men were both standing, waste deep, with their backs to her, and she realized, from their white buttocks, that they were naked.

"Ah, la plage des naturistes," she murmured to herself, and, not wanting to seem out of place, deftly removed her bikini pants, slipped them into her shoulder-bag, and set off back across the sand.

*

"'Allo!" Mike heard behind him.

He turned swiftly around to his right, startled to hear an unexpected voice.

At the same moment, Reilly, standing next to him to his right, turned too, to his left.

Reilly's jutting cock swung out, connecting with Mike's. For an instant the pair of engorged organs seemed to tussle with one another.

Angelique stared in amazed fascination.

"Zut alors!" she thought.

Mike and Reilly both stood mute gawping at the naked blonde standing staring, slack jawed, several feet away. Taking in the sight of her tanned body, the shock of blond public hair, her shapely round bressed, her large brown nipples, send an additional throb of blood into each of their inflated discks.

Then, simultaneously, realizing the sight that they were presenting, they both turned back swiftly to hide their aroused state.

Once again their members collided mid-air.

Angelique, who had in truth encountered more than her fair share of male genitalia, in all states of turgidity and flaccidity, was nonetheless impressed by the tumescence of the two cocks that Mike and Reilly presented. While their obvious mutual attraction would be seen by some as a drawback, Angelique was not one to shy away from a challenge. In fact, she pondered, one could almost find it an additional titillation.

After a moment's embarrassed silence, she stepped towards the men, who were now both coyly looking back her over their shoulders.

"Pleased to meet you... I'm Angelique," she said, smiling, "Don't worry about... that..." she glanced towards their waists, "I have lots of gay friends..."

*

Rebecca, despite herself, couldn't stop thinking about sex.

Her earlier view of the men sprawled across their bed, the sight of Angelique's voluptuous and sensual body, the warmth of the sun and the scent of the air all seemed to conspire to arouse her.

Usually she kept her libido, like the rest of life, under orderly control. Every Saturday night she and Barry had sex, unless for some reason it was not feasible, in which case she would reschedule for the next opportune moment. On occasions that warranted extra attention - such as in recognition of gifts of jewelry - she would offer Barry oral stimulation, and occasionally, she would accept the same from him. Their regular weekly 15-minute lovemaking sessions would follow a trusty and well-worn path, starting with a tender kiss, some gentle mutual stroking, penetration, and arriving, finally, at polite and satisfying orgasm, either simultaneous or sequential. All in all, neither she, not Barry, had anything to complain about there.

In a woman's magazine she had had read that self-pleasuring was not only nothing to be ashamed of, but an important part of healthy feminine sexuality. So she scheduled, once a fortnight while Barry watched football on TV downstairs, a brief session alone in bed with one of several well-worn paperbacks and her own hands.

But now she found her mind wandering towards the erotic, quite contrary to her schedule. Maybe an invigorating swim would help to put her back on track, she thought.

In her bedroom she gathered her blue one-piece swimsuit and packed in her bag a towel, sunglasses, sun cream, a magazine. She stripped off her dress, bra, panties, and glanced at her reflection. Maybe her body wasn't as voluptuous as Angelique's, but it wasn't unattractive she thought. Her breasts, though not large, well well shaped, and pearly white, her nipples pink and almost flat. Her stomach was neat, and below a neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair covered her pubic mound.

She ran her hands over her breasts, wondering what it would be like to hold Angelique's larger boobs. She teased her nipples with her finger and thumb, pulling them out, making them stiffen. A tingle ran through her body, awaking her sex, and almost magnetically her hand was drawn down, between her legs.

"This is most irregular!" she thought to herself, "I really should stop."

But her hand and her pussy seemed to contradict her.

She stood, looking at her reflection, one hand folding her breast, the other insinuating its way between her thighs. She slipped a finger into the crevice, dipping it between the wet folds, caressing the swelling bud of her clitoris.

The fact that she was standing naked, in broad daylight, in the middle of her room excited her more, and she rubbed herself faster, more rhythmically. She glanced towards the window, to check if she could be observed. Once again she noticed the view into the room across from her cottage, where she'd seen the two men. Moving to the window, she looked across. The bed was now empty, but further down the hill, at the beach, she could see three distant figures, standing together.

Still naked, her hand still working at the wet folds below, she crossed the living room to the balcony, where she picked up her binoculars. She trained them on the three figures -- Angelique, and the two men from the room below. Focusing, awkwardly with one hand, the figures came clearer into view, and she realized that, not only were they naked, but the two men were in a state of obvious arousal.

Binoculars trained on the figures, her body responded to the latest juicy news her eyes delivered, and her clitoris throbbed and swelled under the rapid ministrations of her finger. Her body tensed, and a delicious wave of orgasm swept over her.

*

On the beach, Mike and Reilly began to protest.

"I'm not really gay, you see..." Reilly blurted.

"We're not actually... doing anything..." Mike agreed.

"I've got a girlfriend..." Reilly explained.

"We just got drunk... and it was the pills... our trunks got lost..." Mike gabbled

Angelique smiled.

"I don't mind..." she said, "In fact, I think it's quite cute..."

With a final wistful glance to the waistlines, she turned and, naked buttocks swinging alluringly, walked back up the beach.

*

To be continued?

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