by Coolvilla ©
The Mediterranean sun forced itself down onto the back of my neck as I made my down the rocky path to the deserted cove. It was only ten in the morning in the South of France but I could already feel the sweat forming under the thin straps of my bikini, causing the fabric to suck stickily to my skin. My long blonde hair clutched greedily around my shoulders. I stopped and put it up into a makeshift ponytail. I knew the path well and, steadying my swinging beach bag on my shoulder, I gracefully hopped over the larger stones and soon found myself on the hot sand.
My parents had bought the villa years ago and we had traveled down from Denmark to spend our summers here as long as I could remember. The villa was a huge Mediterrean style house overlooking the sea, isolated from the winding highway and tucked into a little valley. It was surrounded by woodland and included our own private crescent beach curled into a rocky cove protected by high cliffs. A large, self-contained boat house was off to the right, built onto stilts in the sand. My parents rented it out to various writers and artists.
Normally, the summers in the South of France were paradise but this year I was dreadfully bored. Only one of my friends from Denmark were coming to stay with me and, as a rich kid, I needed to have my girlfriends around me to keep me amused with banter and long nights at the disotheques in Nice and Cannes. I love holding court at our French villa. But now the only thing I could do was wander down to the beach each day to work on my tan and read magazines. My father was away, as usual, flying around the world and running his hotel empire. My mother was, and is, a cliche. Incredibly beautiful and rich and well aware of it. She bores me the way she runs around shopping and doing lunch with the other rich men's wives at the best restaurants. I suspect she has a dozen lovers to amuse her when my father is away. A long line of Italian and French models.
I spread my towel on the sand in my usual place, in between two large rocks which allowed my to lie hidden from the rest of the beach. I suppose was still a little insecure about lying topless or nude, even on an isolated beach. I took a quick swim in the refreshing water and returned to the towel. I removed my bikini top - nothing more than two triangles of fabric and some straps - and started applying sun oil. I admired my breasts as the oil soaked in. I was pleased with them, round, firm globes crowned with pert nipples. The nipples rose and became erect as a soothing breeze swept off the sea. My breasts, I decided, were perfect. The kind that would remain firm and sag-free as I got older. Not too big and not too small. My stomach was decidedly flat thanks to the endless laps I swim up at the pool by the villa and it accentuates the curve of my breasts. I enjoy the firmness as I rub in the oil.
I took a quick look around to ensure that I was alone and then smiled and shook my head at my insecurity. I saw that the doors of the beachhouse were open to let in the breeze but I knew I was invisible to the house once I lay down. I heard that some artist had rented it out this summer but I hadn't seen him and I didn't really care. I saw his Porsche in the driveway, as well various other sportscars which, I assume, belong to visiting friends.
I slid off my little bikini bottoms, down past my sleek, sinewy thighs and calves. I scrutinised the area around my pubic mound, to see if all remnants of my tan lines were gone. They were. My skin was an even, golden-brown and the small tuft of hair was fantastically blonde from my sunbathing. I ran a finger along the sides of my pubic hair to test how smooth the bikini lines were. Having just shaved and trimmed that morning in the shower, I reveled in the smoothness along the sides and in between my legs. My finger lingered a bit and I became a bit embarrassed about becoming slightly aroused while sitting there on the beach.
I finished rubbing the suncream into my firm body and lay back, spreading my legs to allow the sun full access to the inside of my thighs. I closed my eyes and tryed to relax but I heard some strange sounds carried on the wind. I sat up and tried to figure out what they were. They sounded like voices but I couldn't make out words. The beach was deserted. The wind died down a bit and the sounds became clearer and I realised they were coming from the beachhouse. Moaning and gasping. I became embarrassed as I realised what it was I was hearing. I was sexually experienced, just like every other Danish teen, but hearing the sounds of lovemaking while on the beach caused me to blush. Instinctively, I put on my bikini again and listened. The sounds don't abate but rather increase. I felt the heat of the blushing flow through my body. I saw an open window, covered with shutters, on the beachhouse and guessed that the sounds originated from there. Without knowing why, I got up and hesitantly walked across the sand towards the house. My parents always instructed me to leave the renters alone and give them the privacy they pay for, but I was drawn towards the window. As I approached, I make out a man and a woman's voice in mutual pleasure. I reached the window and looked up at it, staring into the cool darkness inside. The house is on stilts and the window was a metre above my head so I was unable to see inside. The moaning of the woman increased. She panted and groaned intensely. She muttered in French, saying raspily, "Yes, yes, yes..."
I looked around the back of the house, against the rocky cliff and, to my thrill and horror, I found a step ladder. I knew instantly what I would do with it and the thought terrified me. I positioned it against the house as quietly as possible and climbed carefully up. I stole a glance through the slats of the shutters, trying to stay out of sight. I gasped when, in the half-light of the room, the forms of two people having sex on a bed took form. I had a sideways view of a man in between the legs of a beautiful brunette woman. They were covered in sweat as he slammed his cock into her. Her long legs were spread as wide as possible and she held them apart at the ankles. Her head was thrown back off the edge of the bed and her breasts heaved with every thrust. I shifted focus to the man, whom I assumes was the artist who had rented the beachhouse. He was far from the old, grizzled chain-smoking artists who normally moved in for the summer. He was regal. His tanned skin was a deep golden colour which glowed with it's coating of pungent sweat, the smell of which reached my nostrils. I inhaled hungrily. He was dark-haired and his body muscular and perfectly proportioned. Not a body builder type, but rather slim and solid. With every hard thrust I could see the muscles on his abdomen burst into six perfect squares and then retract. His ass was firm and I find myself fascinated by the intensity with which it tenses as he slams inside the brunette. They were both gorgeous.
I tried to catch a glimpse of the cock which was obviously pleasuring this woman so much but he now rammed it inside her pussy at a blinding rate. I saw only a long, slick flash of flesh every fraction of second. The sounds of the woman's cunt sucking madly at the man's cock were incredible. The musky scent of her sex and the sweat was intoxicating. I repositioned myself on the ladder, only realising after the fact that I had spread my legs. My nipples felt rock hard as they pressed against the wood of the side of the house. Almost with a mind of its own, my right hand slid down my stomach and under the elastic of my bikini bottoms. My middle finger sought out the wet honey between my legs. I could feel my bikini bottoms plastered against my smooth slit because of the fluids that had already seeped out of my engorged lips. I dipped my finger easily into my tight pussy and slid it up to rub it in circles around my erect clitoris.
The man was close to coming. I could tell. He slowed his pace, trying to hold off his orgasm, but the woman wanted more. She wanted him to come. It's almost as though she needs it. She reached up and grabbed his hair, pulling him down to her, and hissed in his ear, "Cum!!!" The man nodded and kissed her roughly. Three painfully hard thrusts into her cunt and his whole body tensed, every muscle rigid, as he threw his head back and shot his seed inside of her. She whipped her hand down to her clit and rubbed furiously, erupting into an orgasm of her own within seconds as she watched the man's orgasm with wild eyes.
My own finger rubbed hard on my clit, which was so hard it was almost painful. I felt the urge to squeeze it between two fingers and repressed a squeal of lust and pain before continuing rubbing myself to my own orgasm. I steadied myself on the ladder and did everything in my power not to scream or moan. The silence intensity of the orgasm that rushed through my hard body almost knocked me off the ladder.
As the shock waves subsided, the realisation of what I was doing struck me. I took a nervous look around the empty beach. I was embarrassed beyond belief about standing on a ladder and cumming while playing peeping tom with some strangers. Nevertheless, I couldn't bring myself to leave and again focused on the couple on the bed, fascinated at the sight of the sex and the lust. Never having experienced anything like it in my young life. He collapsed on top of her and they tried to catch their breath with simultaneous breathing. The man kissed the woman tenderly and they embraced. The man rolled off of her and, for the first time, I got to see his cock.
I was stunned. It was now half-erect, but I was taken by it's beauty. I had never seen a beautiful cock before, but his was truly a wonder. It curved downward as he lost his erection and was the same color as the rest of his tanned body. It was large and wide and shaped perfectly in a smooth, long flow from base to head. It glistened with the brunette's juice and his own cum. As he lay back on the bed, I started to descend the ladder but saw the woman get up onto her hands and knees. With enormous tenderness, she took his cock into her mouth and gently sucked it clean, clearly enjoying the taste of their fluids. The man moaned sofly - another kind of pleasure after the intense fucking. Surely they must be finished, I thought, used to the fleeting adolescent fucks of boys my age, but the woman had other ideas. I was stunned when she straddled the man's head with a sweet smile on her lips. She stretched her perfect body and then slowly lowered herself onto his face. The man smiled back and received her cunt on his tongue. I had never seen or tried anything like it and could not even imagine such an act with any of the boys I had fucked. She ground her cunt in slow circles on the artist's face with her eyes closed and a dreamy look on her face. The man eagerly licked and sucked his lovely partner clean. He led her to a less intense but nonetheless enjoyable orgasm with his mouth and tongue hungrily sucking at her slick slit. She lay down next to him and they lay there embracing each other.
I climbed down the ladder and hurriedly put it back where I found it. In a daze I stumbled across the sand to my towel and quickly gathered my things together. I was so confused by the passion of the fucking I had just witnessed. I was shocked to realise that I was still turned on. My pussy lips strained against the tight fabric of my bikini bottoms. Trying to catch my breath, I could do nothing else but sit down between the rocks and slide my bikini bottoms down. I had never been so turned after already having an orgasm. I thrust two fingers into my hot, wet hole and fuck myself, feeling my cunt suck against my fingers. With my other hand I rubbed my clit roughly and my body soon convulsed on the sand. I lay there with my breasts heaving up and down, with my nipples straining against my bikini and tried to take stock of what I'd done and seen.
Voices. I scrambled to pull up my bottoms and get up, grabbing my bag. I tried to make it to the path but the man and the woman were walking towards me and we met where the path begins. They were now dressed, the woman radiant in an expensive little summer dress and the man in a polo shirt and shorts. They woman said hi and smiled at me, a confused, flushed teen looking dishevelled in a sticky bikini and covered in sand. I returned her greeting and looked over at the man. I summoned up a smile, trying to look unaffected and cool. She smiled back but the man didn't even seem to notice me. I felt a stab as he led the woman up the path, with his arm around her waist. I was crushed. Even though they had no idea I had been watching, I think I expected some form of intimacy in the form of a glance, especially from the beautiful man.
Back in the villa, I lay in my room on my bed. Like I've said, I wasn't inexperienced. I had had a dozen sexual partners since I was 14. Most were the usual quick fumbling fucks but a couple were decent experiences with boys who were a few years older than me. Being the best looking girl in my circle of friends I had a duty to take sex to the limits, in order to maintain my status. But the scene in the beachhouse was another world. I felt excrutiatingly young and pathetic. I could see it in the way the artist hadn't even looked at me. He and the woman were so much more grown up and erotic and sensual and sexual. I felt like my sexuality had been bombed back centuries. After sobbing a bit into my pillow and feeling sorry for myself, I pulled myself together and made a resolution. I would become a woman. I didn't know how, but I would explore my sexuality to the fullest. I would learn all I could learn. I would make him want to look at me and respect for being a sensual, sexual woman.
A couple of weeks went past without any great development. Without any girlfriends visiting, I couldn't go into the discotheques to play. I moped around the house, spending hours in front of my full-length mirror, as though trying to summon forth sexuality. I masturbated often but this soon became trivial.
A long parade of gorgeous women made the trip down to the beachhouse to fuck the artist. I spent more time by the pool, with my mother, since the path went right past. I studied the women, all glamourous, all exuding class and raw sex. I saw the artist often and learned his name from my mother. Luc. The wunderkind of the European art world. I tried to catch his eye as he passed but he only ever said hello to my mother, who flirted with him like a coquette. My mother, when she heard his Porsche come down the driveway, would check her makeup, oil up her bare breasts and try to rearrange herself in the most sexy position on the lounge chair. But Luc was always just made polite conversation and headed down to his house on the beach. Mother was embarrassing. She had the body of a 25 year old, but you could see that she was 40 around her eyes. I realised from watching the way she acted that she was just a horny rich housewife. I compared our bikini bottom-clad bodies and was convinced that my body was perfect compared to hers. I gained some confidence about myself.
When I was down on the beach, I kept a keen eye on the house. Luc started to sit out on the veranda and draw in his sketchbook when he was alone. I made several trips down to the water to cool off and try to get him to notice me. I started to leave my bikini top at the towel and did everything I could to look sexy as I walked out of the shallows. Luc never looked up.
One day, I poured the water out of my bottle of Evian and walked over to the house. I pinched my nipples erect and pulled up my bottoms so that they outlined my smooth pussy lips. As I walked up the steps, Luc looked up. He wasn't wearing a shirt and couldn't help staring at his solid upper body. I tried to sound sexy and apathetic as I asked if I could fill up my bottle from the tap. To my irritation, he just said yes and pointed to the door. "Get it yourself". He turned his attention back to his sketchbook. I was furious as I walked into the house. I found the kitchen and filled up the bottle from the sink in a rage. How could he not notice me?! I knew I was attractive - gorgeous even. What was I doing wrong?
I looked around the house. I snuck down the short hall to the bedroom. When I looked through the door I found myself becoming aroused just thinking about the sex I had seen and imagined in that room. I wanted to be on that bed, with Luc's gorgeous cock fucking me in every position. I wanted to kneel down next to that bed and suck Luc until he shot his hot cum down my throat. I wanted him to do anything and everything he wanted with my young body. I caressed my firm breasts and rubbed the bottle of cool water against my pussy mound. I had a sudden but rocking orgasm leaning against the doorframe to Luc's bedroom.
I quickly went out to the veranda so that he didn't wonder what I had been doing. I stood before him with my bikini bottoms clearly soaked around my hole and my nipples bulletlike in my top. I was feeling so naughty and sexy but Luc just dismissed me with a "byebye", without looking up.
I went away in a rage, knowing I needed to take action in one way or another.
came late one evening in the villa. I was watching TV in my room when
I heard the sounds of fucking from somewhere in the house. I got up, wearing
just a t-shirt, and went to investigate. At the far end of the long hall
I stopped outside the door to my mother's bedroom. So she had some young
stud home for the night. Typical. I knew that she played around, pretending
she was young, but I had never heard or seen her fucking one of her studs
in the house. The door was ajar and light spilled out into the dark hallway
from the room. I peered through the crack and saw a bronzed stud plowing
his cock into my mother from behind. Her knees were on the floor and she
was bent over the bed. The man was grunting like an animal and my mother
was humping and snorting and moaning like a cheap five dollar whore.
|Another top quality story by Coolvilla.|
© Copyright 1999 by literotica.com.