Four Nights With Lovice

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From the cafe, we split up. I headed to the Mercado del Puerto, the old town's huge, loud and crowded indoor market, just blocks from the harbor. I was strolling through by myself, looking for papaya to satisfy my sweet tooth and pondering what Berlin had told me. Anastasia saw me first.

"Jack, what a nice bit of serendipity," she said. We walked among the stalls together, then sat down at a small table-for-two and drank yerba mates, an herbal tea popular in this part of the hemisphere. They serve it in a small gourd. You drink from a straw.

"So what makes you so passionate about architecture to travel thousands of miles south to here?" I asked.

She began reveling in some of the architectural wonders of the world she had made her way to and photographed, even sketched and written about. "Buildings can be as pleasing to the fingers as they are to the eyes. And the sense of touch means a lot to me," she said, raising her fingers and pretending to trace them on the surface of ancient walls and doorways. You could tell she had finger-traced many times on buildings.

"And I do see a passion in them," she said. "It touches my soul. There's a definite sensuality in architecture. Take the Taj Mahal in India. It has rounded edges and a color that says female, but the proportions, the tall phallic dome and the spires are very much male, don't you think."

"Just study the photos of the ancient Roman baths," she continued. "They were designed for sex. And all I have to do is walk through the courtyard of the old Franciscan monastery in Lima and feel the sensuality."

"You sound like you're here to study sex as much as architecture," I countered, attempting to elicit a smile from her. It did.

As she was sitting across the table, regaling me with even more about her love affair with architecture, I began to study her features and realized just how inviting her mouth was. Though she didn't laugh a lot, her eyes smiled. And in those eyes, you could see that she was thinking, always thinking. I caught myself watching her delicate hands hold the gourd as she sipped her mate.

When we walked again through the market, side by side, I realized she wasn't wearing a bra. It wasn't that noticeable front on. But I could see just a bit into the arm holes of her sun dress and view the outer edge of her small breasts, so virginally white. It was as if they had never seen the sunshine. My view wasn't enough to be really provocative, just enough to make me weak at seeing this small secret part of her beauty. As we said our goodbyes, I was glad to have on heavy jeans to, hopefully at least, shield my arousal. I was having my first erection for Anastasia Chase, caused by nothing more than her very presence. There would be more.

That night, Klaus, Berlin and I made the rounds to a few cabarets we frequented, but I was back at my room before midnight, wondering if Lovise would be there.

She was. And not alone. Only one small lamp was on as I opened the door. Anastasia was lying face down on the bed. Lovise was straddling her on her knees, massaging her back and neck. They both were naked in the dim light. Again, the noise was drifting through the wide-open window from the street. I could even hear that same Patsy Cline song again.

"It's been a long day," said Lovise. "We're just working out the kinks in our lovely bones." Anastasia turned her head to me and gave a half smile.

I really didn't know what to say, so I just stood in the middle of the floor. It was a squirm-inducing moment.

"Don't freak out on us, Jack," Lovise said. "You're a big boy. You've seen the female form before, haven't you?" She winked. I wondered if she had told Anastasia about our bath.

Anastasia's eyes met mine. She could read my thoughts.

"You don't need to leave, Jack. It's okay," she said in that quiet voice of hers.

"Be a dear," said Lovise, "And pour us all some champagne. Then come help me if you will."

They had brought a bottle with them, presumably from the bar downstairs. I rinsed out the only two glasses in the room. We would have to share. I handed them the glasses and asked, "What now?"

Lovise swung herself to one side of Anastasia. In the shadows, I caught a glimpse of her beautiful pink vulva as she spread her legs to move. "You do that side, I'll do this," she said, still on her knees on the bed. "Let's work together."

I was falling in love with Lovise, no doubt. I certainly lusted after her, had been for weeks. And there was so much beauty in watching her naked, the curve of her back -- even more so her haunches -- as she leaned in to massage Anastasia's shoulders. Lovise's breasts hung down, slightly jiggling with each move she made. Her pink nipples were hard, long and noticeably swollen. She was my version of the ultimate woman.

Yet, my breath was shallow, my heart racing and my fingers shaking, not because of Lovise, but because of Anastasia. As I kneeled on the bed beside her, looking down -- I still had on all my clothes -- she was so slender and delicate, her skin as white and perfect as porcelain, with such a creamy smooth derriere and long silken legs. She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. I couldn't take my eyes off of her hips as each side curved perfectly inward into a dark, sensuous recess in the middle. Her skin all over smelled so fresh and clean.

Lovise and I began massaging her back, working our way down to her waist. I've given some pretty good massages in my day, real Swedish fist-to-the-bone workouts. But with Anastasia, I was more caressing than massaging, afraid I'd break her tender body if I rubbed too hard. My fingers just seemed to glide over her lovely skin. And, yes, I was getting an erection, in case you wondered.

We both began kneading her hips, Lovise doing it aggressively, me softer, more apprehensively. I knew Anastasia could tell the difference.

Simultaneously, we massaged her ass, then pulled her hips apart, both of us now looking down directly at the soft opening of her anus. With her middle finger, Lovise gently stroked down between her hips, back and forth, then over her little hole as I watched, my heart pounding even harder now. She stopped, then began massaging in a little circular motion over the brown opening. After a moment, she pulled her hand back, looked at me and gave a nod. It was my turn.

So I did the same, using two fingers to massage slowly up and down that dark place between her hips, all the way down to her anus. My heartbeat was now up to breakneck speed. My mouth was dry. I even felt a little faint. But I did as Lovise, rubbing in circular motions over the small aperture. For a second I looked at Anastasia's face, now turned sideways, staring off the bed into some distant horizon. I pushed one finger into her oily opening, but just a fraction and very lightly. She let out a barely audible sigh.

"Do you like seeing my body, Jack?" Anastasia asked, without turning her head. "Lovise is so much more beautiful. I really don't even compare."

I looked at Lovise, she at me, with a wicked smile, wondering just how I would respond.

"Oh, I don't expect you to answer," Anastasia said. "If I were a man, I would already be in love with Lovise. She's quite incomparable. There's just so much life to her."

"And would you love me, Anastasia, as passionately as my last boyfriend did?" asked Lovise with a grin. "Like a tiger on the prowl?"

"So you want to be devoured like a tiger?" Anastasia asked back.

"Isn't that what men are for?" asked Lovise.

"Sex, to me, should be different each time," said Anastasia. "Sometimes sweet and gentle, other times playful, sometimes rough and ravaging, sometimes just relaxing. And then sometimes naughty, really really naughty."

Anastasia paused and without looking at me, said, "Which of those options do you like best, Jack?"

If I could be born over again, I'd give up my looks, relinquish whatever talents I have, if I could just be really, really clever. That eluded me at this moment, kneeling on the bed with two naked women asking me what kind of sex I preferred. I needed a comeback. I was empty-headed. And still feeling faint.

"I think right now Jack would take just about any option we offered," said Lovise. "Since you're the only one still dressed, Jack, would you go downstairs for another bottle of champagne?"

That bailed me out, for the moment. I headed down to the bar and, though it was now almost 1 a.m., the hotel owner was locking up and sold me the champagne. By the time I got back to the room, both Lovise and Anastasia were gone, with no note left behind. That night I slept by myself, too shaken by the events of the evening to even masturbate. And terribly dejected that they had left me behind.

The Third Night:

Lovise wanted to play. For her, that usually meant doing something outrageous that would wind up being photographed by her. I was worried. We'd been her subjects before.

It was late morning. Berlin and I were downstairs in the bar at the Patagonia having eggs for breakfast when Lovise and Anastasia came back after abandoning me the night before. I was still a bit dazed from the massage. Lovise told us her idea.

"We're grabbing a picnic lunch, a bottle of wine and heading to Parque Rodo," Lovise said. "You two must come with us. You simply must. We're going to recreate Edouard Manet's Le dejeuner sur l'herbe. For the more cretin of you, like Jack, it translates into The Luncheon on the Grass."

"Isn't that the Manet painting where the woman is naked in the park?" asked Berlin.

"Indeed. But for this, we're all going to get nekkid," Lovise said. You could tell she loved drawing the word out -- nekkid. Especially with her Danish accent.

You've probably seen the Manet painting at some point. It's 19th century France, in a park, with a young man, dressed to the hilt, sitting on the grass with a picnic lunch. Sitting beside him is a naked woman. Across from him is another man, also completely dressed, talking animatedly and gesturing. If you look at their faces, all of them seem to believe there's absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to have one of them nude and the others dressed. That's kind of the point of the painting. And it caused a scandal in its time.

Parque Rodo really was a good place to re-create the painting. The park is right at seaside on the edge of downtown, with tons of huge, old palm trees and a few small lakes and ponds. Lovise set up a tripod and activated the camera's timer so she could be in the photo too.

I was thinking that she deliberately did not invite Tristan and Klaus, instead wanting this to be three women and one man -- me. So she posed me sitting on the grass with a picnic lunch on the ground, under some thick shade trees. I wouldn't be as dressed as the man in the Manet painting, but Lovise found a dark sport coat for me, I had on a white shirt, and she scrounged to find a "flat" cap for me, one of those round caps with a very small, stiff brim in the front, very British. It was plaid. So, I'm sitting there on the ground and ready, waiting for more directions from Lovise.

"Ok, Anastasia. You and Berlin take off your clothes. I want Anastasia beside Jack. Berlin, you stand behind them, about 15 feet away, and kneel down like you're preoccupied with something on the ground. I'll sit opposite Jack and Anastasia." For some unexplainable reason, neither woman complained, nor even hesitated. They began shedding their clothes in unison.

Lovise had this very feminine white summer dress on, as did Anastasia. I wondered if they had bought the dresses as a pair at some costume shop. When Anastasia lifted the dress over her head, it left her completely naked. No underwear at all.

I must admit to sheepishness, wondering who to look at, or was I being a complete boor to watch any of them. Should I, like the guy in the painting, just act very casual, like this happens every day. I tried that.

I slowly turned my head behind me and saw Berlin taking off her panties after throwing down her jeans and shirt. My eyes immediately went to the black hair between her legs. I was beet red in seconds. Though not a showstopper, Berlin was cute, with a nice figure and a fashionable black pixie hair style and Little-Orphan-Annie eyes. I'd pick her up in a bar anytime, if she'd have me.

But I can look for only a second or two or it becomes obvious, so I turn back around. Lovise and Anastasia are standing together at the tripod, looking through the camera lense to figure out the proper shutter speed for this photo. Anastasia's nakedness made me instantly weak -- I had seen her only lying face down. Now I saw those soft white breasts that I had glimpsed briefly at the market the day before. Her nipples were large and brown, and there was a soft little fleecy patch of brown pubic hair. Very subtle. Her thighs looked so inviting. Even her feet were beautiful. Her eyes glanced at me for a second, before returning to the camera and Lovise. She knew I was looking at that place between her legs.

I realized then that the contrast between Anastasia's delicate features and her confidence and mysterious personality is what drew me to her. I was falling for her, too, maybe even more so than for Lovise.

Everyone took their place, Anastasia by me, sitting on her haunches with both feet on the ground, her legs drawn up and bent at the knee. Lovise was more lying down with her legs reaching over and intertwining with Anastasia's and mine. Anastasia, only inches to my right, turns and smiles at me, then kind of leans over and brushes her arm against mine, a kind of unspoken "hello" to me. I get even weaker when she doesn't pull away. I glance down between her legs and see what looks like a small clit protruding ever so slightly. And her vagina's lips are wet and slick. I look back up. The camera shutter opens and shuts. The photo is done. We do a few more.

Then Lovise decides to flip the point of the photo. She tells Anastasia and Berlin to get dressed and for me to strip naked. We'll do the same pose as before. I, of course, am frantic.

"Lovise, aren't there laws in Montevideo about public indecency," I said. "We could do some jail time being naked like this."

"Live a little, Jack," she says. "Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and live life. Besides, when you're an old man sitting at the bar in your ritzy country club, sipping pricey bourbon, you can astonish your old friends with ribald tales about how you spent a naked day with three of the hottest babes in all of South America. I'm sure you'll be able to give those old men a complete rundown of what each of us looks like in the nude. Be sure you get good descriptions of our cunts. You are committing this to memory, aren't you?"

She was right about the last part. I was. So I took off my clothes as Anastasia and Berlin were putting theirs own. And by the time I sat back down, the blood was rushing in and I had a huge erection. Even Anastasia looked at it.

"My God, Jack. It doesn't take much to get that little thing excited, does it," said Lovise. By now I was getting used to her humiliations. But Anastasia came to my aid. "Actually," she said, "You have rather nice accoutrements, Jack."

Eventually, the women once again were ordered to strip for more photos. Lovise took her dress off too. One picture was with Lovise lying on her back on the grass with her head in Anastasia's lap, both of them naked, of course. I thought it was electrifying -- Lovise's head lying atop Anastasia's thighs and her pussy. Could she smell Anastasia? She was certainly close enough. Then another photo, a close-up of the three women's faces, side by side and all of them leaning in for a group kiss, the photo accentuating their lips coming together and barely touching, each of them wearing bright red lipstick.

Lovise was satisfied with her art, so we ate the lunch, downed the bottle of wine and headed back downtown, then went our separate ways. Or, rather, Lovise and Anastasia left us. I spent the afternoon writing, then hit the bars with Berlin, Klaus and Tristan. But by now, I have to admit that I was mostly going through the motions that night, lost in thought about Lovise and Anastasia and all that we had done in the past few days. I loved their nakedness.

It was dark and late when I opened the door to our hotel room, but the moonlight coming through the window was illuminating Lovise lying alone on top of the bed. Naked.

"I so wanted you here earlier, Jack," she said, practically whining with frustration. "I've been waiting forever. I'm in desperate need for the kind of long massage Anastasia got last night. Every bone in my body aches. I've been thinking about it all afternoon. I just figured that you could do me the honors, but I'm too tired now, just exhausted." She did sound sleepy, almost drugged.

She watched as I undressed to my boxers, apologizing for my lateness getting back. I could have kicked myself for missing this opportunity.

"Take those off, too," she said. "Come get in bed and sleep with me. I've got some time in the morning. You can do me then, and I'll do you. I promise."

So we lay together, naked on top of the sheets, listening as the music and chatter from the streets slowly diminished with the late evening. I could hear Patsy Cline's voice trailing off. Lovise fell asleep against me. Maybe a half hour later, I was still awake and my cock had been hard since I lay down. I think it had been hard most of the day. Quietly, and really without even thinking about it, I encircled it with my hand, gently massaging it, moving up and down on the shaft, holding it straight up, squeezing a little harder at the base as I became more excited. I was pretty good at this. After all, I had been doing it since I was about 11 years old. Lying in the dark, I told myself I would stop before I made a mess.

Then I felt Lovise's right hand gently on top of mine. Remaining still and silent, except for her hand, she unclasped mine and took over stroking me. She was so much more adept at it. My excitement took off there in the dark. She stopped for a moment to move her hand down.

"You have nice balls. So heavy," she finally said, very sleepily, and barely above a hoarse whisper, as she held them. She caressed them lightly with her fingers, then cupped them with her hand, gently massaging them. "You feel so good, Jack."

Then back to my cock, stroking, brushing the head lightly, then stroking more.

"Lovise, I'm almost out of control here. You need to stop," I said.

"Shhhh. It will be okay, not a problem."

She began stroking harder, then squeezing me at the base of my dick, spinning me almost into a delirium. As I was just at that moment of being beyond control -- and she could tell -- she aimed my dick hard to the left and I came, ejaculating streams of my sperm, sending them in a high arc, completely off the bed and onto the floor. God, how I wish I had that kind of power today.

"Now sleep well, Jack," she said quietly as she finished stroking. "We'll have our day tomorrow morning. I promise."

Of course, when I woke up in the daylight, she was gone again. But at least there was this note: "Heading to Managua tomorrow. Got to get supplies today. But we'll have tonight. I promise. Be here."

The Fourth Night:

I, too, was heading out in another day, this time to Cuzco in Peru, a hefty 900 miles away. I would have to fly, but it might be worth my while. I had pitched a story to National Geographic and they said it had promise. I couldn't ask for more than that. Lovise had wanted me to go with her to Nicaragua, but I was committed to this assignment. Klaus said he would go with her. Nicaragua was erupting in civil war and they wanted to be there. I didn't like their destination. War frightened me.

Tristan, Klaus and I headed over to the Mercado del Puerto where we had lunch on roasted beef and vegetables from wood-smoked ovens. We ate from one of the counters where you sit on stools. Afterward, I headed back toward the hotel in the early afternoon.