Wet Encounters Ch. 14

In spite of her explanation, I assumed that she had found a couple of ice trays in the small freezer section in the fridge. I also confidently assumed that she had used boiled water to fill them. I would hate for the little white lie I'd told James about her upset stomach to become fact.

I watched her from the living room as she brought the drinks through from the kitchen. She had placed them on the Raleigh Ware tray and, waitress-like, held it balanced on her fingers at shoulder height. Her hips swayed tantalisingly as she approached me.

I was seated with my back tucked into the left-hand corner of the two-seater lounge and she walked between me and the coffee table before bending at the waist to put the glasses on the low table. Without panties, I had a clear view of two of her finest features; three, if you count her beautiful derriere. She waved them at me. I rewarded her seductive efforts with a lecherous growl.

She then reversed herself back, settling herself onto the cushion, mirroring my position, at the other end of the lounge. Leaving one foot on the floor, she lifted her left leg, stretching it along the seat to tuck it in between my body and the back cushion. Her position was almost a repeat of that she had adopted in the front seat of her Toyota two days earlier. Now, as then, I had an enticingly erotic view of her pubic hair. Unlike the other day, however, she wasn't wearing her frilly panties. This time, I had an uninterrupted view of her pussy.

Like a scene out of an old 1940s movie, I placed both the cigarettes I had rolled into my mouth and lit them.

"Here's lookin' at you, kid," I said in my best Bogart impersonation, as I passed one of them to her.

We both burst out in laughter. Whether it was the incongruity of the scene or my less than accurate imitation of Bogie, I wasn't sure. Whatever its cause, it blew away the cloud that had been hanging over us since James' visit.

During the next couple of hours and three drink refills, Juanita and I got to know each other as friends, rather than as lovers. I learned about her family and her strict Catholic upbringing. Learned about her father's cocoa plantations and the other elements of her life in Equador. I learned that she had a brother and two sisters. I learned that her mother had passed away when she and her siblings were only young and that she had been raised by her father's second wife. She told me that all four children referred to her as their wicked step-mother but, in fact, she was anything but wicked. She said that she was one of the most loving and generous people she had ever met.

She said that she would love to take me to Ecuador to meet her family and to show me why Ecuador produced some of the best cocoa in the world. She said that, while James had learned a great deal from her father and other growers in her country, he didn't apply that knowledge to his own plantation. In spite of her prompting, James showed no inclination to return to Ecuador; or to let her return there to visit her family.

While we had been talking, she had swivelled herself around so that she could lay back against my chest. My hands automatically rested on her breasts and started massaging them.

"What do you think you are doing, Matthew?" she asked.

"I'm just practising," I answered. "We're probably going to have to swim across the creek tomorrow and I want to make sure we're both ready. I wouldn't want you to start spluttering and carrying on because I put my hands on a private and personal part of your anatomy. Besides, I thought you might have forgotten the lifesaving carry I introduced you to the other night."

"No," she replied, "I haven't forgotten. Nor have I forgotten that you made me come all over the seats in the truck just by playing with my tits. Do you think if you keep doing what you are doing, I will become desensitised and I'll be able to avoid having an orgasm from breast stimulation?"

"My God, I hope not," I said, releasing one of her breasts so I could unzip the front of her dress.

With the fabric out of the way, I was able to get a proper grip on her nipples. I felt them hardening in my hand and started pulling on them and twisting them and stretching them. Juanita moaned.

My cock, which had been flaccid up until a moment ago, had started to rise. Juanita stood and removed her tennis dress before reaching for the waistband of my shorts and pulling them down. I raised my hips to let them slide down past my backside. Once they were past my knees, they feel to the floor, where they joined her dress. Juanita then sat back down on my lap and laid back onto my chest.

My penis kept rising but it couldn't go beyond the crease of her vulva. It was trapped and I could feel her beginning to slide up and down its length. I could feel her wetness lubricating it. Her moans became louder and her humping became more and more demanding. She could hold out no longer. Like a snake striking, she dived her right hand down between her legs and grabbed hold of my shaft. She raised herself up and inserted it into her vagina, letting out a long, drawn-out cry as she lowered herself down onto it. She was like an addict who was tonguing for a fix. Anybody looking on would think that it had been weeks since her last sexual encounter, whereas it had only been a matter of hours.

I must admit that I let out a long moan as her vagina engulfed my cock. After bottoming out, Juanita relaxed and laid back against me. For a moment, I thought she was going to continue our conversation. She didn't. Instead, we both descended into a semi-meditative state. The only thing that disturbed it was feeling her massaging my penis whenever she felt it beginning to flag.

She had me sitting on the edge for almost an hour before, as had happened on a couple of previous occasions, I felt her start to fidget and knew she was building towards a climax. She suddenly sat bolt upright and we both exploded. There was no warning and I had done nothing to precipitate either her orgasm or mine. We both simply went off as if someone had pulled a trigger.

As usual, Juanita let out her screaming, roaring wounded jaguar sound, which I'm sure would have the local people running for shelter if they'd heard it. My roar wasn't much less fear-inspiring. It came from low down in my belly and resonated through my whole body. It even scared me and I was its source.

As was often the case with our synchronised climaxes, we kept feeding off each other. I know I would be lying if I said it went on for ten or fifteen minutes but it certainly felt like it did. We were completely worn out when it was over and we both collapsed back onto the sofa, catching our breath and recovering from another memorable orgasm.

I know that people who aren't in love with each other can have great sex. But only people who love each other as much as Juanita and I do can have what we just experienced. Those who don't love each other - and possibly even many of those who do - gain sexual satisfaction by fucking in one or many of its various forms. Only those who can become as close in mind and body as we are will ever know what we had just experienced.

As I lay there recovering, with my half-hard prick still buried inside Juanita's pussy, my mind wandered to the things I had been thinking about to take my thoughts off coming. The cogs had been turning and had subconsciously been mulling over the plan I had started to formulate when I had been talking to James.

"Yes," I muttered to myself, "that might just work."

"What might just work?" Juanita asked, her voice still croaky from her unique expression of orgasmic pleasure.

"Before I answer that," I said, "let me ask you a question.

"Did you notice what James was driving when he came down here this afternoon?"

"It looked a lot like your truck," she said

"Very good," I said. "It definitely was my truck. There aren't two truck like that on the whole island.

"So, next question. How do you suppose that James would be driving my truck when the last time either of us saw it, it was parked on the other side of the creek; almost in the exact spot he parked it this afternoon?"

"I have no idea," she said. "Why don't you tell me... No, wait! Someone must have found it and taken it up to your place."

"Excellent. Now, keeping in mind that only four people knew you were stranded and two of those people were here, who would have come down to the creek to search for us?"

"It could only have been either Liz or James," she answered. "And James was stuck on our plantation, Tobari. But then I can't see Liz leaving your girls on their own; even with a nanny. Certainly not in the weather we were experiencing the other night.

"So, what? Are you saying that James managed to get across from our place to your place on Wednesday night?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," I said, holding her tightly against my chest. I didn't correct her on the point about Liz not leaving the girls in the care of their nanny while she came down to the creek. The evidence told me that that's precisely what she had done on numerous occasions during the past ten or so months. And not just for a couple of hours. Some of those absences - as we'd both acknowledged - had been for days at a time.

"I think that, to his credit, James managed to get out of Tobari in the way he described to me. But, rather than doing so this morning, I believe he managed to get through on Wednesday night.

"He probably stopped in at my place first to see if I had managed to get you across the creek and up to there. When he found that I hadn't, he and Liz would have come down - probably in her little Volkswagen - to see what needed to be done to get you home. Seeing the height of the water and not seeing your truck, they would probably have assumed that I had managed to persuade you to either head back into town or you had allowed me to take you to a place of safety.

"Not being able to find us and not being able to cross the creek, they would have taken my truck back up to the homestead with them.

"Knowing that both of us were out of the picture for a couple of days, would have given them a clear run at each other. Sure, they would have had to maintain an appearance of decorum in front of the house staff and the girls. And they would have been very conscious of the labourers who were camped under our house. But they would have had the nights to themselves. Fortunately for them, Liz is not a noisy lover.

"If for nothing else, I will have to thank him for rescuing my truck and for helping Liz with my labourers. I'm sure she would have done her best without him but having him beside her would have given her a great deal of confidence; not to mention comfort. That's not to say that I won't punch his lights out, though."

"Not if I get to him first," Juanita said. "You can thank him and punch his lights out when he regains consciousness after I have finished with him. And, knowing that you wouldn't raise a hand against a woman, I will gladly punch Liz' lights out for both of us."

"So, what's the plan, mi hombre?"

I must admit, I quite liked being called 'my man'. It had a certain ring to it; particularly when said in Spanish

"I'll tell you the plan, mi senorita, while you are cooking dinner," I said, raising her off my now-wilted penis and lifting her to her feet. I watched, entranced, as my sperm started to drip from her vagina.

Juanita followed the direction of my eyes and spotted my cream escaping from her as yet unclosed lips and dropping to the floor. She quickly dipped her hand between her legs and ran for the bedroom where she threw herself onto the bed. She then drew a pillow - my pillow, as it turned out - down and slid it under her hips. Next, she pulled her pillow down and tried to do the same thing. I could see she was having trouble so I slipped my arm under her and helped her to draw the second pillow beneath her.

"I'm sorry," she said, once she settled herself into what had to be a very awkward position. "I can't possibly cook dinner tonight. I have to lie like this for at least twenty minutes to allow your seed to travel up into my womb.

"I'll just have something light," she said, putting on the sad-but-humble face I was beginning to become accustomed to at mealtimes. "A bowl of soup with a dry crust of bread will do. Don't go to any trouble.

"Oh, and while I admire your attempt at speaking Spanish, I should point out that senorita is the word for an unmarried woman - a maiden or a virgin. A senorita would never make love to a rough woodsman such as yourself. Only a woman who has already been spoiled or who is married would sleep with you; a senora. You are very fortunate that I am a senora and not a senorita. If a senorita were to sleep with you, she would bring great shame upon her family. That shame would be even greater if she were to fall pregnant.

"Of course, if a senora were to fall pregnant to a man who wasn't her husband, the shame would not be so great; particularly if, as is the case here, he had already proposed marriage to her. The fact that she was married to another man in such a case might be overlooked by her family."

"Thank you for that lessons in Spanish and morals and marriage, senora," I said. "I will bear it in mind while I'm giving your husband a thrashing."

"I think that now might be a good time to start referring to him as my soon-to-be-ex-husband, don't you?

"Before you go, would you like to give me a kiss and share your plan with me?"

"The kiss I can do," I said, bending down and giving her a lingering kiss on the lips. "But you'll have to wait a little while for the plan. I must go and prepare your gruel.

"I'm beginning to think that I'm getting the short end of the stick in this arrangement," I said over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Like most of our meals have been since we moved into the cabin, this one was going to be late. More a supper than a dinner.

"Before I beat him," I said just loudly enough for Juanita to hear, "I'm going to have to ask him if his wife knows how to cook. I'm starting to have my doubts."

"What was that, mi hombre?" came Juanita's voice from the bedroom.

"Nothing, mi senora," I answered. "I was just talking to myself."

Dinner was prepared by the time Juanita emerged from the bedroom. Before taking her place at the table, she made a detour to the bathroom to clean herself up.

I had done the same thing before starting to prepare dinner. "One should always have clean hands and a clean mind when sitting down to dinner," my mother had often said. I had the clean hands but it was difficult - I almost said, 'hard' - to have a clean mind when one has a naked lady such as Juanita sitting beside one.

Once she had taken her seat, I placed a bowl of vegetable soup in front of her. It was the closest thing I could find in the pantry to match my ignorant image of what gruel actually was. I went back into the kitchen and returned with the unbuttered heel from the loaf of bread on a side plate.

"As requested, senora," I said, "soup and a dry crust of bread."

"But I thought I smelt bacon and some other things cooking," she said with a disappointed look on her face.

"You did," I said, "but that's for me. I was famished so I made myself another omelette-cum-quiche with bacon and mushrooms and a few chillies thrown in to give it a bit of bite. The onion and tomatoes give it just a little bit more body."

"It sounds delicious," she said.

"I'm sure it will be," I replied as I placed a second bowl of soup in my place. "You could have had some, too, but you only wanted gruel and dry bread so I only made enough for me.

"Eat up," I prompted her, 'there's another tin in the pantry. It will only take a minute or two to heat it up. Besides, there's still plenty of bread if you need to fill the corners."

Juanita fell silent while she spooned her soup to her mouth.

"Mm-mmm-mm-mm-mmm," I hummed as I spooned the soup into my own mouth. "I think I could go another bowl of this. That Mr Campbell certainly knows how to make a soup. If I had the money, I think I'd invest in his company.

"What do you say? Should we open the other tin? We can afford to have a splurge tonight. After all, we'll be crossing over tomorrow."

"I don't think so, Matthew," Juanita answered. "But thank you for asking. This bowl is sufficient. It is very filling. And, as you said, I can use the bread to fill any empty corners. Perhaps I can spread it with butter and strawberry preserve and have it for dessert."

Having finished my own bowl of soup, I excused myself and went into the kitchen to serve up my next course.

Oh, bugger!" I exclaimed.

What is the matter?" Juanita asked.

"It turns out that I've made too much of this damned omelette-cum-quiche thing. I'll never eat all of it. Are you sure you wouldn't like some? It'll only go to waste, otherwise."

"Oh, well," she responded, "if it will go to waste. I might have a small serving. But only if you are sure you can't manage it on your own."

As it turned out, I had made enough to do us for both dinner and breakfast. Having used six eggs, it filled the ten-inch skillet to the brim. While serving it onto our plates, I had toasted four slices of bread on the stovetop.

"It appears that you can be a real bastard at times, Matthew," Juanita said as I delivered our meal to the table. Her face was split in two by a huge smile. "I didn't know whether you were serious or joking when you served up our soup. I must admit that you had me hooked like a fish. How were you able to keep such a straight face?"

"With the utmost difficulty," I answered. "I could see the pain on your face and almost gave it up. But then I saw the doubt so knew I had to keep it going. I nearly lost it a couple of times, until I remembered your own acting - "I'll just have something light. A bowl of soup with some dry bread will do. Don't go to any trouble" - and the hangdog look. That made me strengthen my resolve."

While we enjoyed our dinner, we discussed my plan for returning to the other side of the creek and coming up with concrete evidence of Liz and James' infidelity.

"It will require a very early start," I said to Juanita as we cleaned up after our meal and put the leftover portion of the omelette in the fridge. Depending on what time we managed to get started, we might have time for a cup of coffee and a plate of cold quiche before we set out on our trek up to my house.

"That means no more hanky-panky," I told Juanita. "We need to get a good night's sleep so we're well-rested before we set out in the morning."

"Yes, Matthew, mi hombre," she said as we headed towards the bedroom.

*****