Summer in Tuscany Ch. 03

"It looks like another lovely afternoon to sunbathe by the pool for you, Rachel."

Those had been Jack's last words to her after their breakfast encounter. At the time she had simply nodded and gone off in a daze, to stand numbly in her room, and later to shower. The cold water, however, followed by hot, had cleared her mind. She turned the sentence over in her mind. Rachel had realized that her enigmatic host almost always spoke with layered meanings. Given what had just happened this morning, and what had happened the other day by the pool, the meaning here was obvious.

Rachel paused in the shower, in the midst of washing herself, shocked by the audacity of what he was suggesting. Even as she pondered that, another realization hit her. Could he be watching her right now?

Rachel had grown accustomed to the idea of a camera in her room, though she had not found it exactly. It was foolishly naïve, but she had to admit she'd never thought about the bathroom. Of course he would want to watch her here, would he not? Was there anywhere in the house he could not see her if he wanted to?

Suddenly every touch of her soapy cloth to her skin was wrought with tension. Was he watching this, as she stroked the cloth down her side, brushing the side of her breast? Did he watch as she leaned back to rinse her hair, her breasts pointing up into the air?

Despite having just cum 20 minutes earlier, Rachel could feel her body heating up again. With a cry of near despair she pressed herself against the wall of the shower and rubbed the cloth against her crotch. Feet spread on the slippery tiles, she worked it against her hot pussy, wincing as the rough fabric worked over her sore clit. Despite how utterly worn out she felt, she came again, not as strong as this morning certainly but still a climax that left her knees weak, and Rachel stumbling wet from the shower.

The worst part was that this didn't resolve anything. She thought she could feel Jack's eyes on her even as she toweled off and dressed in her bikini. And even then, every move she made was with consideration of how it would look to a watcher.

As she snapped her bikini into place, looking in the mirror at how it barely contained her tanned breasts, and highlighted the lines of her hips, Rachel was thinking of that chair by the pool. Last time she had awoken there, ashamed and horrified to find herself being stared at by a crowd of Jack's friends. Yet here she was, dressing to sit there again, knowing that Jack had in mind some kind of encore. Was she not ashamed anymore, to think of some stranger ogling her body? Was she not afraid of what might happen, of what that might mean? Or was she simply too aroused to think through the consequences, the meaning?

All Rachel knew was that here she was, now reclining in the pool chair, watching that Italian sun dance on the rippling water. Sitting and wondering whether she should tan topless again. Was she meant to do so? Was there something wrong with her that she cared what Mr. Morrison meant for her to do? Was there anything that he would expect of her that she would not do? As Rachel unclasped her top and rolled onto her stomach she had to admit that so far the answer was no.

Jack was starting to learn her expressions, and as he watched her in the shower, he wondered if he'd ever watched someone think the way he watched Rachel. I must have, he thought, I've watched people my whole life, and yet at that moment he doubted his own history, his experience, because even looking through the cameras at Rachel soaping her breasts and then rubbing the cloth between her legs, he felt she was almost talking to him. He was convinced that she'd just at that moment realized he might be watching her there in what she previously thought was a sanctuary.

And instead of crying out in frustration or annoyance, she reacted the way he might have hoped but not truly expected, not so quickly after her the session in the kitchen. He rubbed himself sitting in his office, marveling at his good fortune, as Rachel brought herself to an orgasm and then dressed in her bikini. She wanted to sit by the pool, not shop or sightsee or read a book or write a letter. She planned to sunbathe by the pool as he suggested, and while she arranged and tucked her breasts into her bikini, he texted his British friend Geoffrey: "She'll be ready for you at 1."

He did feel a bit guilty about the sedative that had induced her first nap by the pool, and told himself that this time she knew what was coming, and, he thought, reading her eyes as she admired her own body in the full length bedroom mirror, that she was excited about the opportunity to repeat the game, to submit to the game. He waited in his office, sensed more than heard her pass a few feet outside on her way to the pool. His cock twinged when she removed her top and rolled onto her stomach.

In the kitchen he found Isabella and asked her to make some of the special lemonade for their guest and to bring it to her by the pool. He watched her make the lemonade and smiled as Isabella backed her way through the French doors to the pool, the tray in one hand, her other hand unzipping the top of the uniform to expose her cleavage.

The sound of footsteps roused Rachel from her reverie, and she opened her eyes, raising up from the chair to see who it was. Isabella walked slowly toward her, a tray in her hand. Of course it carried a single glass of lemonade. Hadn't Rachel known it would?

Rachel was aware of how her breasts hung down below her, bared, as she lifted herself up on her elbows. Then again Isabella's breasts were quite a sight themselves, crushed together in her tight uniform. Rachel wondered if Jack was watching this from some window, through some camera, the two women in his house, staring at each other in the hot sun.

Rachel turned on her side and sat up. Every instinct within her was straining to cover up her chest, but she resisted them. She sat, hopefully looking calm and collected, as her heart hammered in her chest. "Is that for me?" Rachel asked casually, sitting up the rest of the way now.

Rachel could feel the sunlight on her bare breasts, feel her nipples hardening under the housekeeper's gaze. She could no longer pretend she didn't like this, being seen, being watched. Isn't that why she took the lemonade from Isabella without a comment? Knowing what was in it, and knowing what she might wake up to.

"It's so nice of you to bring it out for me," Rachel said, the cool glass almost too cold in her hand. She blinked in the light as she raised the glass to her lips, drinking it slowly as if daring Isabella to watch. Was she crazy, doing this? It didn't seem so right now, but maybe Italy was driving her crazy, the cameras, Jack, all of it driving her to do something anyone would say was perverted, if not dangerous.

Rachel sat and drank down the glass of cold lemonade, all the while her breasts bared to the admiring housekeeper. "I'll just be laying out for a bit longer if anyone needs me," she said, setting the glass down beside her, admiring her own ability to seem so casual.

Lying back in the lounge chair, she closed her eyes, even while Isabella still watched her. She could feel her nipples go rock hard at that, that sense of not seeing but being seen. Her hands clenched at her side, wanting to cover herself or touch herself, but she laid calm, laid quiet and waited for the sleep to come.

Jack imagined that Rachel drinking the lemonade must be like that moment during surgery when the needle is in your arm and the anesthesiologist tells you to count backwards from 100. Not unpleasant, he thought, justifying the process for himself. He was not a mean man, and would never harm her, and didn't she look excited? Her erect nipples were proof. The dosage was so small that he mostly leaving it up to Rachel to allow herself to sleep.

This brief moment of guilt behind him, he played back in his mind that moment when Rachel and Isabella had looked into each others eyes, staring, except for that moment when each looked at the other's breasts.

And then Isabella was back in the kitchen. She put the lemonade tray on the counter and swayed over to Jack. She tugged her zipper down another a few inches and put her hand on Jack's cock through his pants. "She's such a pretty girl... bella, bella," she whispered.

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A half an hour later, Jack's friend, Geoffrey, sat on a chair at the foot of the chaise where Rachel was coming out of her sleep. He was naked, his cock erect and in his hand.

Jack had always thought that Geoffrey could pass for Daniel Craig's brother, the same short hair and hard-muscled body. It was clear he worked out, and to a point Jack envied his younger, firmer body, though he knew Geoffrey's average cock size couldn't compare to his own. Geoffrey was an unsubtle pounder, a very physical lover who seemed to believe in speed and power more than finesse and tease and grace.

Jack was naked too, sitting in a chair along the chaise and Isabella was in panties and bra, having sucked each Geoffrey and Jack to erections. Isabella was slowly teasing Jack's cock with a slow pumping at his base, her small hand leaving room for another on his long thick shaft.

They all were admiring Rachel's exquisite figure. Jack was certain that unlike the previous night, Rachel would stay right where she was when she awoke.

For Rachel, the afternoon had disappeared in a golden haze, and as she returned to consciousness she was only aware of that haze. It took her a moment o realize it was the Tuscan sun shining through her eyelids, and that slowly brought back the memory of where she was and what had happened.

She didn't open her eyes at first. She lay there and returned to her body, feeling the heat of the sun on her skin, the feel of the lounge chair beneath her. The touch of air on her breasts reminded her she was topless. Could she feel the weight of eyes on her? The lingering echo of touches on her skin? Right now was someone staring at her, or poised to touch her?

Rachel let her eyes remain closed, discovering how much she enjoyed that anticipation, that question. She felt her body growing aroused as she imagined herself displayed on a stage for all to see, yet having no idea who was looking. She pressed her thighs together, growing warm and moist at the thought.

And then she finally cracked her eyelids. It was too bright at first to see anything but silhouettes, bodies facing her, their backs to the sun. She didn't move but instead opened her eyes bit by bit as they adjusted to the sunshine.

Rachel felt as much as saw the presence of Jack to her side. She nearly wriggled in the chair at the realization that he was there, ogling her body, naked himself. Her awareness expanded to find Isabella at his side, the curvy woman crouching on the patio, barely dressed herself, but more dressed than Rachel.

And then a third figure. She had anticipated one, or actually more, wondering if Jack would invite his same group of friends back for an eyeful. This one may have been there that time, Rachel wasn't sure, but it was only him now.

And he did not simply stare, he sat fully naked with a raging hard-on in his hand. He was inches from her feet, a man strange to her, stroking his own hardness at the sight of Rachel. She let out a gasp of surprise, and passion, feeling herself surrounded by lust-filled eyes and throbbing cocks.

Rachel did not rise, she laid still, thinking it her part, though her body twisted a bit in eagerness. She felt as if their eyes were stroking her--no, with these two men the touch of their gaze was more than that. It was insistent and brutal. She felt as if she would cry out just from the sensation of it.

Jack could tell she was awake before her eyes opened. She wasn't dreaming, her toes weren't twitching and her eyes weren't darting in REM-induced circles.

He thought of the first time she awoke like this on the chaise, and how different this immediately felt, content, perhaps even excited, during her brief languor. He remembered how later that first night she closed her eyes in the bedroom, kept them shut while she masturbated. He thought she must be enjoying this moment, guessing who she'd find upon her awakening, and for a second he thought she might not open her eyes at all, and would just do what she did the other night and play with herself. He wouldn't mind that.

That's not why Geoffrey was here though. He could admit that Geoffrey was more of a doer than a watcher like Jack. While Jack would be content to have Isabella stroke him as they watched Rachel, his friend would be disappointed and unsatisfied at something he'd consider so uninvolvingly passive.

Jack, though, did caution his friend that everything would be done with Rachel's full consent, and this meant that she would have to, even if it was subtle, initiate contact.

He knew eventually they'd reach a point where Rachel trusted Jack enough to let him do practically anything, but he didn't feel they were there yet. He thought of those movies where the robot comes alive and finally opens its eyes. He saw Rachel trying to focus through the bright sunlight, and he concentrated on her eyes, the corners of her mouth, her breathing, something that would indicate acquiescence.

Rachel looked between the three of them for what seemed forever. The strange man's hand slowly slipped back and forth on his cock, nearly in time with Isabella's hand on Jack's huge shaft. Were they here to watch, she wondered, or to touch. Either way, Rachel realized, she was immensely aroused. Perhaps she would reach down and touch herself--and she did--and they would watch it all, their own hands stroking their own sex.

Or perhaps now was when Jack would finally make his move. Spread out naked, a hands length away from him, Rachel was clearly the center of the show. Jack's friend sat at center stage at her feet. Perhaps he was here for the show Rachel had been expecting, had been waiting for. Maybe Jack was going to fuck her.

Rachel moaned as she cupped her own bare sex and stroked it. She was envisioning Jack pushing her thighs wide and entering her. The fact that she was imagining a man older than her father taking her only added to the arousal, somehow. The fact that there were watchers did the same.

Rachel parted the swollen lips of her pussy and dipped a finger inside, knowing that Jack's friend could see it all, see inside her. She stared at him, incredibly aroused by the idea that she was showing her innermost being to this stranger, opening it wide, her glistening lips and her throbbing pearl. Rachel moaned and gripped her own breast with the other hand, squeezing it hard as she imagined Jack might do as he entered her. She did it while she watched jack's friend, knowing it was the show he had come for.

It occurred to Jack, and once he thought about it he nearly grinned, that Rachel's arousal was a continuum, certainly from last night, and possibly since she had arrived in Tuscany. Hence her lack of hesitancy upon waking. Last night before bed, this morning in the kitchen, then the shower, yes, he'd certainly planned it all but the satisfaction of it coming to fruition hit him at this moment.

It was if she had been enjoying erotic dreams during her little nap. He heard the little breeze through the olive trees, then felt it against his bare skin, then smelled the breeze, for now it carried with it, like a burst of flavor from an exotic fruit, the scent of Rachel's pussy. He could distinguish hers from Isabella's thanks to the session in the kitchen just a few hours ago.

Jack knew his friend was skeptical on the phone. Last night, the dinner party, felt like weeks ago, but here Rachel was on display sans the black cocktail dress. Her instant arousal surprised Geoffrey, he could tell. He saw his friend lean toward Rachel on the edge of the chair, keeping his hand on his cock. With his free hand he was about to grab her foot when he paused and looked to Jack for approval. Jack nodded his consent.

Jack watched as his friend placed his thumb on the ball of Rachel's foot and then leaned in further, bent his head, and engulfed Rachel's toe with his mouth.

Rachel's eyes were only on Jack's friend. She saw him reach forward, hesitate, and then seize her foot. Her body jumped a bit at the sudden touch, the sensation amplified by an order of magnitude by the anticipation, the buzz of energy that seemed to surround every inch of her skin. It seemed like nothing, a hand on the foot here while she stroked her own sex and men grabbed their cocks. But Rachel moaned from the intensity of it, suddenly a stranger's skin on hers, as if her erogenous zones had come to encompass her entire body.

When the older man's mouth swallowed her toes, Rachel arched, her finger plunging inside of her sex and her mouth emitting a surprised squeal of unexpected passion. She looked from him to Jack, staring at her father's friend as a strange old man sucked on her foot. Stared at him as she began to pant and moan, her hands gripping her own body here in the Tuscan sun.

Jack returned her stare, careful to not let his amusement that he felt shaping his eyes and his mouth be misinterpreted as bemusement. He was aware of the balance in these situations, and he didn't want Rachel to think his smile was in any way mocking her. But he did love the fact that though Geoffrey was the one with Rachel's toe in her mouth, she was looking at him, Jack.

And while she was looking at him, her finger was in her pussy and her hand on her breast. He felt himself the conductor in this situation, and Rachel his young prodigy new to the stage. Somewhere in her look he saw anticipation, curiosity, mixed with the excitement.

They eyes remained locked. It was so quiet, the only sound was the chaise creaking, and Rachel moaning, that Jack hesitated before speaking, as if he were afraid his words would break this little spell. Isabella was keeping up a steady rhythm with her hand, a very pleasant feeling.

He spoke so quietly that he wondered if his friend would hear him. "Geoffrey would like to fuck you, Rachel. While we watch. Is that ok?"

Rachel's eyes were boring into Jack's, and when he finally opened his mouth and spoke she was almost certain what it was he was going to say. What, she realized, she wanted him to say. She was so wet with need, so ready for his touch, finally, that her thighs were nearly parting unconsciously in anticipation.

It took her a moment to process the difference in what he had said, to slide out of her fantasy and into reality. Her eyes slid off of Jack to the other man, Geoffrey, a near stranger. She looked back to Jack, her expression a combination of hurt and confusion. She did not speak it though. It was her own fault for misunderstanding. Perhaps Jack truly simply loved to watch.

"Yes. That's all right," Rachel said, and she turned her attention to Geoffrey himself. The arousal that had been building in her body all day was at such a peak she hardly cared who it was, this man, another. It was Jack's eyes which would bring her pleasure.

Jack turned his head to his left and looked at Geoffrey and gave him a slight nod. Geoffrey's nostrils flared, his eyes widened and he took a full breath, like an athlete getting ready to perform.

Back to Rachel, Jack said, "Look at me Rachel. Look at me while Geoffrey fucks you. I'm going to watch Geoffrey fuck you. You know that now, don't you Rachel? You know I like to watch. I especially like to watch you Rachel. You are such a beautiful girl and I love watching you have sex. You're a beautiful sexy girl, do you know that Rachel? And watching you excites me very much."

Isabella perhaps unintentionally quickened her pace listening to Jack.

"Geoffrey is going to fuck you and he's going to fuck you hard. He's like an animal sometimes Rachel. But you're not to look at him. You're to look at me, is that clear?"