Minoan Vacation Ch. 02

There was no need for preliminaries. Cindy's sex was already lubricating copiously. After giving birth to three babies, her vagina could accommodate her toy's unaccustomed bulk without much difficulty. She inserted it as deeply as possible. She inserted it so deeply that her hand lost its grip. Cindy flexed her pelvic muscles to push the ebony toy out then used her hands to push it back in. She rhythmically flexed her vagina around the toy just as she often did with Carl's penis. But it wasn't Carl's penis that she was imagining. She climaxed quickly, then again and yet again.

Fatigued by lingering jet lag and her day at the beach combined with too much wine, Cindy retreated from the balcony to the bed. She didn't remove her toy from her vagina before falling asleep. She left it inside her so that she wouldn't feel lonely in her sleep.

When Cindy awoke, her toy remained partially inside her. She could not resist the urge to masturbate again. Her orgasm was singular and less intense than the previous night. When she removed her toy, Cindy understood why. The crimson tinged fluid that flowed from her vagina revealed that she was menstruating. When she went to record the date on her calendar, she realized that she was a few days early again. In recent years it seemed as if she was always a few days early or a few days late. Her increasing irregularity was one of the reasons why she seldom had the confidence that it would be safe to yield to Carl's desire to rely on him to restrain himself rather than use condoms. Her increasing irregularity was also a depressing reminder that her biological clock was running out.

Cindy took a shower to wash away her menstrual flow. As she scrubbed her pubic hair and deep into her sex, she thought about Carl's note. Watching the movie "PARADISE: LOVE" had inspired Cindy to confess that she had once dated a black man and the dark desires that had been revived by the movie. Carl had been amazingly understanding. He hadn't judged her for her past, interracial dalliances. He had not resented her present, dark desires. He had been the perfect, loving, understanding husband. Was his note just a crude joke or a genuine offer of an indulgence?

After finishing her shower and making herself breakfast, Cindy decided that she needed to make a trip to the pharmacy. She vacillated about what to wear for the brief walk. She didn't want to risk staining her walking shorts. The prospect of staining one of the panties that Carl preferred her to wear dissuaded her from wearing any under her skirt. When she pulled on a blouse, she realized that the thin fabric made it obvious that she was not wearing a bra under it. She decided that her anonymity gave her the freedom to not worry about it.

Cindy had no difficulty finding the feminine hygiene products that she needed. She remembered that they had been right next to the empty shelves that were normally stocked with condoms. The shelves were no longer empty. The pharmacy didn't stock the snugger fitting Asian brand that she and Carl favored because the thinner latex allowed a more natural sensation. She bought a box of three regular sized Trojans rather than one of the unfamiliar European brands.

Cindy returned to the apartment where she took another, brief shower to wash her sex then inserted a tampon. She was dissuaded from going to the beach by a sudden spasm of menstrual cramps. She knew from experience that her flow was heaviest and her cramps were most severe during the first few hours of her period, so she simply wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed a book and her sunscreen, then went out on her balcony.

The knot on Cindy's towel came loose as she was reading. Her momentary panic to preserve her modesty was quickly overcome with pragmatism. The walls on either side of her balcony ensured privacy from her neighbors. She was sitting far enough back from the steel railing that people on the street and patio below could not see her. While people on the beach could see her, there was enough distance to provide an illusion of seclusion and more importantly, anonymity. Rather than rewrap her towel, Cindy applied sunscreen to her naked body. The warmth of the sun on her nude body relieved her cramps.

Although Cindy always felt an urge to hibernate in isolation when she was having her period, the blue waters of the Mediterranean beckoned to her. Her fear of another encounter which might culminate with her yielding to temptation might have compelled her to resist the allure of the water. However; she reasoned that her discomfort and embarrassment that resulted from her period would be her chaperone. She remained on her balcony until her cramping eased and the sun went down and the beach became almost deserted. She removed her tampon and took a quick shower to rinse her sex. She was pleased to see that her flow was waning. This gave Cindy the courage to venture out, but only after phoning her husband. Rather than put her bikini bottoms at risk of being stained, she simply threw on one of Carl's white tee shirts. It came to just a bit above mid thigh, so it was almost decent. Thinking about dinner, she once again took a small purse with a few hundred Euros with her.

Swimming in the ocean wearing only Carl's tee shirt was almost like swimming nude. When she was in the water, the fabric would float to her shoulders exposing her sex and breasts. A prolonged swim and soak in the warm waters of the Mediterranean eased the last spasms of her cramping. Cindy emerged from the water to retrieve her purse then after taking a quick rinse under a beach shower, she set out in search of food.

The little shack where she had eaten the previous night was tempting, but she was afraid that it would subject her to temptation again. She walked down the beach until she chose a small restaurant across the street. Only when she stepped into the light did she realize that the tee shirt she was wearing was still wet. The damp fabric was far from opaque. Fortunately; while everyone seemed to notice, no one complained. She sat at the bar so that she would not be tempted to share a table and a meal again.

The damp tee shirt that Cindy was wearing made it impossible for her to avoid male attention. A young but ugly Greek sat next to her and introduced himself. He suggested that since she enjoyed swimming in just a tee shirt, she might enjoy visiting one of the nude beaches that was to the East of Plakias barely a kilometer away along the coast. Cindy protested that the steep cliffs were impassable. They could not get there without a car unless he knew of a secret goat path around the cliffs just like at Thermopylae. Cindy realized that either her Greek was even worse than she thought or the ugly young man was too stupid to know the history of his own culture. His continued conversation convinced her that the later was true. She would not be interested in going anywhere with him even if she weren't married.

Cindy's obvious lack of interest convinced the Greek to go on an odyssey to find romance with someone else. She wistfully hoped that he would find a female cyclops.

Cindy was saying a prayer of thanks for not being subjected to temptation again when a young, African immigrant sat beside her. He introduced himself with yet another Swahili name that Cindy could neither pronounce or remember. He too spoke perfect English with a British accent. A quick glance at his crotch confirmed that he also had a promising bulge in the thin fabric of his pants. Cindy wondered if only the best endowed Africans had the courage to immigrate, then she thought of President Obama. The thought that she had never noticed a bulge in President Obama's mom jeans provoked almost hysterical laughter.

The African asked, "did I say something funny?"

"No," you didn't Cindy replied after stifling her laughter. She hesitated to share the vulgar joke with the young African then reasoned that since he was a stranger, there was no reason not too. "I was just thinking that after meeting so many African immigrants here in Crete, I am astonished that I've never noticed a bulge in President Obama's mom jeans."

The African seemed to get her vulgar reference to an obscure joke. He smiled as he glanced down at his now growing bulge then answered, "Obama's father was in America legally on a student visa. He didn't have to have the genitals to brave the Sahara without a car to reach Libya during his Arab Spring and then the Mediterranean in a small boat to reach Europe illegally. Perhaps if Obama had not become President, my village would not have been slaughtered by Jihadists?"

"I am sorry," Cindy replied with sincerity. She had read of what was going on in Africa. She then considered the implications of what the African had just said. "You know an awful lot about America," Cindy commented.

"I'm studying history and political science at University in Athens. I come to Crete in the summers to earn money to put myself through school. If I study hard, perhaps I can immigrate to America, but legally."

"Hopefully you can," Cindy said with sincerity. "Why would you not stay in Europe?"

"Too many Muslims in Europe, just like back home in Africa," the African explained. "The Muslims are getting restless, just as it was in Africa. Soon the Muslims become jihadists and start burning villages just as they burned mine."

"Are you a Christian?"

"No. I was raised an Animists, but we had Christian missionaries teaching in our school. They taught me well. They couldn't convert me, but I became an agnostic." The young African went on to explain, "I overheard your conversation with the Greek. I know a goat path that leads to the nude beach, just like at Thermopylae. You could hire me to be your guide tomorrow." The African then grinned as he said, "perhaps we might even meet King Leonidas and the three hundred?"

Cindy might have refused the African's offer if he hadn't made this final, historical joke. She rationalized that it would not be quite so improper to hire him as a guide because he appealed to her brain rather than just her vagina. She even reasoned that going to the nude beach would be less problematic while she was having her period. She wouldn't have to worry about staining her bikini.

After negotiating a price, Cindy allowed the African to engage her in an increasingly personal conversation. He questioned her about how long she had been married and how many children she had. He seemed perplexed when she admitted that she had only three. He was pleased when she explained the ambivalence that had dissuaded her from getting her tubes tied or insisting that her husband get a vasectomy. "Your husband would get his balls cut if you told him to?"

Cindy laughed in response to the brutally vulgar description of the procedure. "We talked about it. Karl wasn't thrilled with the idea of a surgeon's scalpel having it's way with his testicles, but he was willing to let me make the decision."

"Your husband must love you very much if he is willing to get his balls cut for you. That is good. It is a good thing that I will be your guide."

Cindy allowed the African to walk her to her apartment. She reasoned that it was not improper because she had hired him to be her guide. However; when they got to her building, she yielded to the temptation to hug him then kiss him. She felt his penis stirring against her as he eagerly returned her kiss. When she felt his hand seeking her sex under the hem of her tee shirt she remembered that she was still flowing. Cindy had never allowed her period to dissuade her from having sex with her husband, but the African might not be as understanding as her husband. "May be tomorrow," she protested and promised without really thinking.

Cindy arose at dawn. When she went to change her tampon she was pleased to see that it was barely stained. She was not surprised. Her flow was usually brief when it was heaviest. Since there was no need for her to wear her bikini to the nude beach, she need not bother with a tampon. She could just take quick dips in the ocean if she began to flow again. Because the sun light was so bright, she was not quite bold enough to use Carl's tee shirt as a dress again. She selected a skirt and blouse. She once again didn't bother with a bra or panty. There was something about the Mediterranean that relaxed her inhibitions. Thinking about the African's description of the goat trail, she selected a pair of robust rafting sandals.

Cindy's African guide was waiting at the door of her apartment with a small duffle bag. Of course she treated him to breakfast at a restaurant. He then lead the way along the boundary between the road and the beach until the road veered off to the North. There was a trail, probably more than just a goat trail, exactly as he had described it. The trail led off and up, snaking between the cliffs. The steep slope compelled Cindy to exert herself. She was acutely aware of the sensation of her heavy breasts swaying in response to her movements. She resolved to become less obsessive about wearing a bra when she got home. They passed a somewhat secluded olive orchard along the way before the trail wound back down to the ocean.

Cindy was surprised that the beach was not secluded. There was a small hotel, almost a resort, and even a diving school. There were even a few small shops and restaurants. They would not starve.

Cindy was amazed at how eagerly she stripped out of her clothes to stand naked before her African guide. He did not disappoint her. He stripped off his shirt and then his trousers to stand before her naked. His ebony penis appeared to be almost flaccid, yet it was obviously larger than Carl's was when fully erect. His testicles were even more impressive. The heat caused his scrotum to relax so that they hung well below his torso under their weight. They were as walnuts to Carl's peanuts. Cindy estimated that both of Carl's testicles wouldn't equal one of the African's.

The African seemed to have packed everything that Cindy had forgotten in his duffle bag. He had beach towels for them and sunscreen for her. He had also brought beer. "The venders at this resort are thieves," he explained.

The African offered to apply sunscreen to Cindy's back. She eagerly accepted. He sat astride her so that she could feel his penis and testicles against her butt as he worked. When his hands strayed to the sides of her breasts, she yielded to the urge to raise herself up on her elbows. He eagerly exploited the opportunity that she was offering him. She was elated to feel his penis swelling against her butt. She was old enough to be his mother, but she could arouse him!

After a while Cindy rolled over onto her back. She had gone topless at the main beach, but now her sex was exposed. She felt somewhat self conscious because she was unshaven and untrimmed while almost all of the other women on the beach were hairless. Fortunately; she noticed that her unshaven sex seemed to be provoking lustful glances.

Cindy got up to take a walk, but the nude beach was far to constrained for her to go far and far to crowded for her to enjoy the illusion of exploration. The African walked along side her, almost possessively. However; Cindy realized that she was not his trophy. He was her trophy.

On a whim, Cindy took a quick selfie of herself standing with her African escort. While she still had the courage, she texted the image to her husband with the message: MY AFRICAN GUIDE HAS HELPED ME TO DISCOVER THE NUDE BEACH NEAR PLAKIAS. Only then did she take the time to look at the image closely. She and the African were standing so close that their bodies were touching. She was hugging his waist while he had an arm draped around her shoulders so that his mahogany hand was cradling her lightly tanned breast. Their bodies were turned towards each other so that the purple glans of his dangling, ebony penis was nestled in her blonde pubic hair. She was fearful of how her husband would react to the provocative image.

The African had brought face masks and snorkels for them in his duffle bag. Using the snorkeling gear was not as easy as Cindy would have expected. Her African guide had to teach her. He held her to keep her body steady in the water as the waves washed over her until she learned how to cope with the float ball intermittently interrupting the air flow to her lungs. She was elated to feel the African's hand migrating from her belly to her breasts. She began to lament that the fact that the nude beach was to small and crowded to give them privacy.

Once Cindy was a reasonably competent snorkeler, her African guide decided that they should go for a longer swim. He led her back onto the beach where he packed there towels and other things into his duffel bag. As he sealed the bag, Cindy realized that it was waterproof like a rafting bag. As they reentered the water, Cindy realized that the bag floated. The African instructed her to fasten a lanyard to her ankle. She would not be able to loose the bag and it would always be there to keep her afloat if she needed it.

The African lead the way West along the rocky, cliff lined coast towards Plakias. However; he didn't go far. After only a few hundred yards he led the way towards the shoreline. Cindy was fearful that she would be smashed against the rocks until she noticed the small, isolated beach that was nestled in the cliffs. The sand on the beach was course, almost gravel. The beach was no bigger than a bedroom. The beach was about the size of a kingsize bed. She then blushed as she realized that the isolated, little beach was a bed.

The prospect of her impending infidelity provoked a panic. Cindy was grateful when she noticed the African unpacking lunch. She then feared that his thoughtfulness was motivated by a desire to avoid having sex with her because she was too old and to fat. She struggled with her inner turmoil as they shared the exotic lunch that he had prepared.

Cindy's fears that her African guide was uninterested in having sex with her was unfounded. He seemed to be very interested. He seemed to be so eager to have sex with her that he didn't give her much foreplay. After a bit of kissing and caressing he rolled her onto her back and positioned himself between her thighs. The African didn't pleasure her orally as her husband almost always did. Unlike her husband, the African didn't need to pleasure her orally to get her ready for him. She could feel that her sex was already lubricating copiously as the purple glans penetrated her labia.

Even after giving birth to three babies, Cindy's vagina could not easily accommodate the African's unaccustomed girth and length. He was patient, easing his penis only a few millimeters deeper with each, languid stroke. His penis filled her in a way that her husband's never could. Cindy had her first orgasm before the African's penis was even all the way inside her. He exploited the convulsions of her vagina to ease then entire length of his penis into her.

The African granted Cindy a respite to allow her vagina to become accustomed to his bulk. The respite gave her time to think. "I shouldn't be doing this. I'm unprotected," she protested belatedly.

"I'm not diseased," the African assured her.

"That's not what I meant," Cindy explained as she belatedly considered the other risk that she was taking. She suddenly lamented the denial that had enabled her to leave her apartment without taking the precaution of grabbing the condoms that she had purchased the day before. "I'm not on the pill or anything. My husband usually uses condoms."

"I didn't think about bringing condoms," the African lied.

Cindy briefly considered her predicament. It was not yet to late to stop, but she didn't want to stop. Remembering their most recent lovemaking inspired an excuse. "I sometimes rely on Carl to restrain himself. I'm early enough in my cycle that I could probably get away with risking it."