Vanessa's Island Ch. 03

"I'm writing a novel set during the Victorian era," Vanessa explained as I dried off my face and hair with the towel that she had handed me. "Wearing the right clothes helps me to imagine my way into the story."

"So it's a fairly sexy sort of story, is it?" I surmised. "Not exactly your Oliver Twist, or David Copperfield, style of Victorian saga."

"Well, it's what we in the business term a bodice-ripper," Vanessa explained.

"Hence the bodice," I replied.

"Exactly, hence the bodice. But I must admit," she confided, "I have to exercise a certain amount of self-censorship when I write. My delicate lady readers prefer for me to gloss over the details somewhat. But when I'm writing a love scene I like to write my own version first, before modifying it for my public."

"Really?" I asked, showing a fellow artist's interest in the creative process. "Could you give me an example?"

Vanessa blushed. "I never let anyone see my raunchy versions. But....oh, what the hell, I'll read you a very small comparison. But this is in the strictest confidence. I don't want you blurting it around that Vanessa de Couteau writes porn in her spare time."

"Blurt it around?" I asked, in disbelief. "Who am I going to tell? The seagulls?"

"All right," she said, leaving the room for a moment and coming back with a pile of papers.

"Vanessa de Couteau. That's not your real name is it?" I asked, as she sat down at the table across from me.

"The Vanessa part is real," she replied. "But the rest is marketing."

She shuffled through her papers for a moment. "Ah, here's a good example. In the original I wrote, 'She licked her lips at the sight of his massive, purple-veined cock, standing stiffly erect, with the candle-light glistening off the trail of pre-cum that ran down its shaft and dripped onto her naked belly.'"

I couldn't believe that I was listening to her soft sexy voice speak these words or that her imagination had created them. Her manner was very proper as she read, like that of a student presenting her essay to the class, and this made it almost unbearably sexy when I watched her soft red lips form the word "cock".

My head was spinning and I was so turned on that I couldn't restrain myself from blurting out, "If you like looking at stiff cocks, you might like to see the one you've just given me."

"But, David," she said with a sweet smile. "You seem to be forgetting...I've already seen your stiff cock."

"Then you won't mind if I relieve the discomfort," I sighed, standing up and unzipping my jeans so that my painfully cramped prick could comfortably poke his head out of my underpants.

"Oh, dear," cried Vanessa, covering her eyes in mock modesty. "Still, it's my fault for teasing you, isn't it. Now I'll read you the public version of that passage. No, wait a moment, I'd better read the first one again first, so you can compare them directly, one after the other."

So she picked up the paper and read the passage again, but this time when she got to the word "cock" she looked pointedly at my own stiff prick, and licked her lips, and then with a wink went on reading the passage.

"Now in the finished version," she went on, "I changed that passage to: 'She blushed at the sight of his rampant manhood.' That's it. Which explains why my books take so long to write. The finished version is just the tip of the iceberg."

Then she put down the papers and return her attention to my prick.

"I think you'd better have a wank," she said. "That stiffy doesn't look like it's going to go away of its own accord."

Hardly able to believe my ears, I stood up, pulled down my underpants and grabbed my cock with my right hand.

"Not in the kitchen!" she laughed. "And not in front of a lady. Have you lost all the social graces living here on you own? The toilet's down the hall."

When I returned to the kitchen, having relieved my frustration and made myself decent, she smiled and said, "I bet that feels better. I really have been cruel to you. But I promise I won't tease you like that again. At least not today."

The one thing I can say about Vanessa is that she is as good as her word. She didn't tease me again that day. She left it until the day after.

It was then that the real teasing began. Later Vanessa admitted that she'd wanted to fuck me since that very first day when she caught me sunbathing at the beach, but she had a theory that if she had given herself to me at the first opportunity, I would have just thought that she was a slut, and would have lost interest in her. This I don't entirely agree with, but I have to admit that the reason she gave for teasing me so unmercifully during that first week that she was on the island was sound. They say that "Hunger is the best sauce" and Vanessa wanted me to be good and hungry by the time we got to the main meal. The same applied to herself, because when she was teasing me she had to restrain her own appetites as well. To what degree she did this she would later make clear.

It was on that next day that I first got to see Vanessa totally naked.

I had decided to pay her a visit at about 10 o,clock in the morning. I wasn't planning to try peeping at her. My talk with her in the kitchen had been even more exciting than the voyeurism that had led to it. I just wanted to talk to her again. Who knew where it might lead?

I followed the beach around the island until I reached the path to Vanessa's beach, which, being cut off at either end by small rocky cliffs, had to be approached in the middle of its expanse through a grove of palm trees.

As I came past the last of the trees I could see that Vanessa was standing on the beach with her back to me. She was dressed in the same brightly-coloured wrap she had been wearing when I first met her. Could it really have been only 3 short days ago? I decided not to call out to her. There would be plenty of time to let her know I was there. I preferred to let her get wet first. The thought of having a leisurely conversation with her while she sat on the sand next to me in her dripping bathers was an exciting one.

When she opened her wrap and let it drop to the sand at her feet I realise that that particular fantasy was not going to happen today. Vanessa was stark naked. Time seemed frozen as I stood and stared at her mouth-watering naked backside. On her shoulders and the top of her buttocks her pale skin was covered by a sprinkling of golden freckles.

There is something about a woman walking about completely nude and unashamed in the bright sunlight. Nudists always emphasize that there is nothing sexual about what they do, and for them this may be true, but I could never go to a nudist camp or nudist beach. The sight of an even moderately attractive woman doing everyday things outdoors totally nude, will always give me a hard-on quicker than some slutty teenager spreading herself open for a gynaecological exam.

But seeing Vanessa in the full nudist wardrobe gave me a hard-on so stiff I swear I could have lifted weights with it. The juicy way her bottom bounced as she started the, thankfully long, run down the beach to the sea was too much for me. Yanking down my shorts I grabbed my rock-hard prick and stroked it and stroked it and stoked it as I watched her run. By the time her feet first hit the water, I knew I was in heaven as I fell to my knees and spurted my seed a full two metres across the sand.

Once I had caught my breath, and with Vanessa lost from view on her long swim, I began to think about the full potential of the situation. Vanessa had to come out of the sea sometime, and since there was no way off the beach that wasn't close by, and since she had left her wrap here, all I had to do was wait and I would get to see more.

But better than that, there was no need to hide. She had caught me sunbathing nude on that first day. Now, if I happened to be passing and saw her skinny-dipping, there was nothing to stop me from chatting to her while she was nude, the same way she had to me.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. She embarrassed me on the first day and teased me yesterday, I thought, now I can have my revenge. I'll stand there like lord of the island while she skulks ashore with one arm over her boobs and a hand over her pussy.

It didn't turn out like that, but you probably guessed that already. Vanessa turned the tables on me. But, in my battles with Vanessa, I've found that defeat has a way of turning out to be much more fun than victory could ever be.

I put my shorts back on and sat down on the sand next to Vanessa's beach wrap.

Eventually I could see her swimming hard towards shore. My heart beat fast with anticipation.

When she reach the shallower water, she spotted me on the beach. Instead of indulging in her usual frollick in the gentle waves, she headed straight towards me.

"Hi, David," she yelled. "Lovely day isn't it?"

I was rather disconcerted by her untroubled manner. As she came ashore my disquiet and my arousal increased in equal measure. Why was she not embarrassed? Why was she making no attempt to hide her luscious, totally naked body? Something was wrong.

As she walked towards me, I drank in every detail of her body. Her full breasts swung freely. They were creamy white with a dusting of freckles, and her pale nipples stood up from the cold of the water that continued to drip from her skin. She had the slightest hint of a pot to her belly, something I've always found a turn on. Her solid hips swung easily and between her legs she had the most luxurient bush of red pubes I'd ever seen, somewhat lighter and brighter in colour than the hair on her head. Her body reminded me of all those fifties sex goddesses I used to lust after, back when women looked like women and not half-starved boys.

"I'm glad my naughtiness yesterday didn't keep you away," she said as she dropped down to the sand next to me. Her position with one leg under her and the other stretched out was, to put it mildly, very revealing. I couldn't help but stare. Amidst the tangle of wet pubes, I could see the pink of Vanessa's pussy lips perfectly clearly. Needless to say, my prick was once more hard as a rock.

But why wasn't she embarrassed. She wasn't acting any differently than she would have if she'd been fully clothed.

For a moment I even wondered if she was fully clothed. Maybe I had lost my mind, and was just imagining that she was naked.

"What's the matter, David?" she asked. "You look worried about something."

"Why aren't you wearing any bathers?" I asked.

"Well, I thought I'd take a leaf out of your book," she replied. "Why wear bathers if you don't have to? It always feels so good to be nude in the water. I wouldn't do it if there was anybody else around. But since there's only me and you on the island, and since you're an artist, who has probably seen more naked women than I've had hot dinners, why not?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, trying to play it cool. "To me a naked woman is no more exciting than a side of beef."

"Well, David," she said, shaking her head, "I hope you don't get a hard-on like that every time you go in a butcher shop."

This wasn't fair. I had clothes on and she didn't, but it was me who ended up being embarrassed. It's just not right. I'm sure there's something about that in the rules.

"Oh, all right," I grumbled. "The fact is that if you go around like that it's going to drive me stark raving bonkers." After a pause for thought, I said, "But don't get me wrong. I don't mind."

"Now, now, David," she replied. "There's no need for you to suffer. I tell you what. When I'm planning on going skinny-dipping, I'll give you a ring to warn you. And then you can just avoid this end of the island until I get my clothes back on."

"Now that's a good idea," I replied, with a straight face.