What Came Over Her?

It was the first evening of his ten-day break and Tom Barry sat at the bar, re-reading the menu, his back to the rest of the customers, waiting for his table for one, he felt awkward and nervous, feeling as though the whole taverna were watching him.

"Stop being stupid," he tried to tell himself, "You've sat alone in hundreds of restaurants at home when you've been away on business. This is just a holiday, so no real difference, none of the people know you, so why does it matter what they may or may not be thinking?"

Two couples drifted past the bar and said goodnight in German to the Greek waiter at the doorway. He turned to look and saw their vacated tables being cleared by a waitress and prepared for the next guests, one of which he assumed would be him. There was another couple at the bar, but he was uncertain if they were waiting or just having a final drink.

That was his real problem, everywhere he looked he saw couples, and so far, all foreign couples, German, or Austrian, even Dutch, but the only English he had heard had come from his lips or the Greek waiters and waitresses when they spoke to him. The menu was predominantly written in German with the English translation underneath in small print.

It was his own fault, he should have checked closer when he booked on a whim, a bargain due to Covid. This resort had lots of spare capacity, prices were good, he had chosen the island because this was where he and his wife had come on their first holiday together and he had wanted to come back a number of years before, but she had vetoed it, now she wasn't there to complain.

Involuntarily he ran his finger over the non-existent wedding ring, the indentation was fainter, but the band of skin still showed whiter than the rest of his fingers. He had finally stopped wearing the ring three weeks before, but it still felt as though it was there. Ironically, he had come on this holiday to get space from the constant reminders of his wife and their marriage, from the people around him.

The girl behind the bar spoke, distracting him from his thoughts, she pointed at his almost empty glass.

"Oh yes, please," he replied slightly embarrassed that he had drunk so quickly, "The sun must have made me thirsty," he babbled, feeling even more uncomfortable.

She just smiled and began pouring another large beer.

"Slow down," he thought, taking a deep breath, "The last thing you want is to get pissed all alone on the first real night of your holiday."

Thirsty was not the only thing the sun had made him, he mused, it's why earlier at the beach he had needed a cooling swim, running, and diving headlong into the waves. The warning signs had designated that part of the beach as clothing optional, so for only the second time in his life, Tom had lain naked on a beach in the company of like-minded people, with no wife to complain about the unsightly male bodies.

It had been inevitable that the early travel from the U.K., combined with the heat had quickly led to him dozing off. When he woke with a start, he immediately realised he was raising a flagpole but had forgotten the Union Jack (or perhaps the Irish tricolour, in honour of his father's origins and his namesake).

Quickly rolling on to his front he had glanced around, luckily no one seemed to have a look of disgust or appreciation on their faces. As much as he would have liked to manually calm himself down, he had read the rules carefully and reasoned his nearest companions would not mistake his moan of relief when it arrived. His late wife had insisted he made enough noise to frighten a herd of elephants whenever he ejaculated, much more than any other man she had known, and apparently there had been a quite a number of them before she had settled on Tom.

Although lying on his front had reduced the affects it had not gone away completely, so he decided to try to cool off in the sea. Crossing the twenty yards of sand would have to be done quickly as a 'chubber' bouncing along would be noticed by a casual observer, hence the dash and headlong dive into the surf. The waves were surprisingly choppy for the Mediterranean and forgetting to close his eyes and mouth, the collision of face and sea water dislodged one contact lens and choked him at the same time. So, with eyes streaming he had paddled around for a few minutes recovering his poise, and vision, by which time he had drifted away from his place on the beach towards a rocky outcrop.

Not being the greatest swimmer Tom had decided to head to there and walk back to his beach spot, as he began to haul himself out Tom thought he heard a slapping noise from the other side of the outcrop. He edged around the side and found himself face-to-feet with a female body. The woman's legs were hitched up and her bum raised off the rock, Tom looked up slightly and watched as two delicate fingers splayed her pussy lips and a third circled her large swollen clitoris.

Transfixed at the sight, Tom watched as the woman's hips rocked up and down and her bum cheeks clenched as she pleasured herself. Naturally his cock regrew and stiffened in appreciation of the display, and the faint aroma of her pussy, a smell he adored. He held on to the rocky shelf with one hand and reached down to grasp his engorged cock with the other. Although he had no idea how long this woman had been masturbating Tom realised, she was close to an orgasm.

The woman's bum dropped to the towel covered rock, her stomach scrunched, and her head rose into view. Her eyes met his, her face a mixture of surprise and near ecstasy, the third finger not stopping as she groaned, "Oh god! Oh shit!"

"Sir!" A waitress said touching Tom's arm, breaking his train of thought, "Your table," she continued indicating a spot towards the rear of the taverna.

"Oh, thank you!" Tom mumbled to the short, pretty, waitress who stood beside him, then, picking up his beer he followed her through the taverna.

Consciously he tried to avoid watching the sway of her buttocks in the tight black leggings. As nice as the sight was, he didn't want to get caught staring at a another female form twice in one day. He sat at his table facing the rest of the customers now more reassured that they were more interested in their own groups than a solitary older Englishman. The waitress took his order, smiled and her buttocks swayed invitingly towards the kitchen.

As his first course arrived another couple of customers walked behind the waiter serving him, being led by the waitress with the inviting buttocks. The man sat with his back to the rest of the people in the taverna, the woman slid along the bench seat, as she settled, she looked up directly at him. Her face had a stunned look for a fleeting moment then she glanced at her partner and smiled, nodding at something he said.

Tom felt his face begin to flush, both from the booze and his recognition of the woman opposite. He was sure it was the same one, her hair pulled back in an Alice band and the dark eyes, the stunned expression the same as on the beach. Tom lowered his eyes to his plate, concentrate on your food, he told himself, she's probably as embarrassed as you are. He reached for his beer glass then changed his mind, don't gulp it down, he reminded himself, eat your food and savour the beer.

The food was good, so Tom didn't look up again until he had cleared his plate. A waiter was serving drinks to the couple, and he caught their accents when they thanked him. Definitely English, polite, and well spoken, the woman's partner obscured Tom's view so he couldn't examine the woman's face again, but she was extremely attractive he mused, even from the short time he had studied her. Late thirties, maybe even a well-preserved early forties, no older than that, about twenty years his junior.

The waitress with the inviting buttocks cleared his plate, leaning over to rearrange cutlery ready for his main course. She smiled, asked him in broken English if he liked his starter and allowed him a view down her white blouse. A nice, but not deep cleavage on display, enough to titillate and elicit a good tip from an older man. Tom felt that vaguely demoralised feeling, does the world see him as old?

He didn't feel particularly old, but he had passed the major milestone of 60, his body was in good shape, and he had no problems down below, although that was only from a manual perspective. Would he stand up (literally) to the test if he did encounter a woman who would look past his age?

Tom watched the waitress carry the empty plates to the kitchen, her buttocks swaying in hope of increasing the value of the tip. He felt one part of his anatomy reacting positively and wished he had worn the tighter boxers and looser shorts as he felt the weight increase and move easily against his thigh. Surreptitiously he moved his left hand to his lap and squeezed his growing cock through his shorts.

Movement caught his eye as the waitress returned with his main course, two quick squeezes of his cock reduced the swelling just as the girl leant in and put two plates in front of him flashing her cleavage once more, that required two more squeezes. Thanking the girl, he moved his hand back to the tabletop and began his meal making up his mind to skip dessert, get back to his apartment and relieve his building sexual tension.

The restaurant had gradually shed the majority of its customers, the Germans apparently preferring to dine early. It was now just him, the English couple and three presumably German women who were just settling their bill and quickly swigging the complimentary brandies. One of the German women caught his eye, raised her glass in salute, then poured the contents quickly down her throat. She rose slightly unsteadily, grinned as she held the table momentarily for support, waved at Tom then tried to get her two friends to hurry up.

Just as he put the last mouthful of food into his mouth, he noticed the English woman opposite studying him, her partner nowhere to be seen. Their eyes locked and she smiled meekly then glanced toward a door in the corner, then at her watch before standing and walking over to the door. Tom initially thought she wanted him to follow her, his mind racing at the prospect of what she had in mind, but then she knocked on the door and called out,

"David, are you alright?" she spoke calmly, but loudly adding, "You've been a long time, your dinner will get cold!"

The noise in the taverna lowered and a loud groan could be heard, even the German women turned as they left, then thought better and weaved their way out of the exit.

"Can someone help me?" the English woman called out, more animated now, "The door is locked!"

The waiters and waitresses didn't react until Tom got up and walked over to the woman who was urgently rattling the door handle. The waiters tried to stop her pulling at the door handle, speaking to her first in Greek, then German, but she just shook her head uncomprehendingly.

Tom noticed the lock type, picked up a knife, put it in the groove, twisting the release catch then pushed the door until it jammed on the kneeling body behind it. The smell of vomit wafted up and everyone stepped back at first, then Tom took a breath, held it, and pushed the door until the groaning body shifted enough to allow him to poke his head around.

The woman's partner was on his knees cradling the toilet bowl, continuing to groan softly.

"Can you get up?" Tom asked, but before he got a reply, the English woman pulled him back.

"It's alright, I can deal with him now!" she said, tersely, "Thank you, go back to your meal."

Nodding, Tom went back to his table followed by the waitress with the buttocks and cleavage. A waiter hovered around the door whilst the woman squeezed through the gap. Tom caught the sound of harsh words being aimed at the hapless figure on the toilet floor.

Tom's waitress pointed to his empty plates and said, "Finish? Dessert or Kaffe?" pronouncing coffee in the German style.

"Just the bill, please," Tom responded, miming signing a piece of paper, whilst gazing at her increasingly interesting cleavage.

The girl hurried away, then came back with the bill and a large glass of brandy and the card machine. She deliberately leant over as she typed the amount into the machine before presenting it to Tom, the gratuities tab flashing almost as invitingly as her breasts. Dutifully Tom entered an additional ten euro, five for the buttocks and five for the cleavage, and received a beaming smile when he returned the machine.

Tom sipped his brandy while the waitress finished the card transaction and checked out the woman who had now left the bathroom and was loitering outside pacing back and forth. He guessed she must be about 5' 4" tall, without the 2" wedge sandals she was wearing, her dress was just knee length, displaying toned calf muscles. Her bare arms were equally toned but not muscled, small delicate hands gripping her biceps, the dress hung well on her frame, no hint of a mummy tummy, and a nice curve to her breasts.

Tom's mind wandered back to the vision of her at the beach, the currently covered body fully exposed to him. Where her dress now hugged her breasts, he recalled the contrast of brown tan with a triangle of recently sun reddened skin, topped with hard brown nipples.

The fingers that gripped her biceps, had been spreading her pussy lips exposing a large clitoris that glistened with sweat and her juices. The furrowed brow she currently wore was one of annoyance, but earlier it had been furrowed in concentration.

Tom stopped himself, he needed to leave before his cock betrayed his salacious thoughts, as he rose the woman stopped pacing outside the toilet and walked to his table.

"Er, I'm sorry for snapping at you," she started to apologise, her head bowed but not looking at Tom, "I was annoyed with my husband, I still am, but that's no excuse to be rude."

"No problem, I wasn't offended," Tom smiled, "I know what it's like sometimes!"

"Also," she paused, "About, on the beach this afternoon, I've never, you know?" she hesitated, "Well not in public nor with a stranger!"

There was an awkward silence before Tom replied, "Again, no problem, I was far from offended, as you probably could tell!"

The woman raised her eyes to his, "I suppose I did notice, but afterwards I thought you might report me. I promise I won't do it again, please don't tell my husband?"

"Don't worry, I'm not about to grass to anyone," Tom assured her, "I'm Tom, by the way, just in case we meet on the beach again, I won't be a stranger."

She reddened, then realising he was joking, relaxed a little, "Well, I might see you around, but I'll try to be good," she smiled nervously, "I'm Harriet, but friends call me Harry."

Tom grinned, as a thought sprang to mind, causing Harry to look at him quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, I just thought of something," Tom said, "Tom, Harry, we just need a Dick!"

Harry smirked, "Um, I think I saw a nice one on the beach earlier!" she flirted.

They held each other's smiling gaze, then heard a slurred, "Harry, what are you doing!" shouted across the room.

Before she could reply, her husband said in a loud voice, "Let's get out of here, I think it's something I ate!"

Harry's scowl reappeared, but she just nodded to Tom sheepishly and turned to her table to get her handbag. Tom left the remains of his brandy, and walked towards the exit, past the wobbling figure of Harry's husband.

Tom said goodnight to the pretty waitress and turned to take a last glance back at Harry as she paid for the meal her drunken husband had just ruined. He felt saddened that she would end up frustrated tonight, as her man would be incapable and unappealing. At least Tom had the memory of her performance on the beach and that fleeting brush of her hand on his engorged member as she recovered her composure. He was sure he was going to be busy with his right hand before sleep tonight and again in the morning too.

*********

As day dawned Tom Barry was pulling on his cock to memories of Harry's orgasm, for the third time since meeting her in the taverna. By the time he had reached his hotel room he had been desperate for relief, he couldn't stop thinking about her on the ten-minute walk back and had dropped his shorts and boxers as soon as he closed the door behind him. No more than two minutes of frantic tugging saw a long rope of cum arc through the air and splatter on the tiled floor.

Less than half an hour later, after cleaning up, a pee, and cleaning his teeth, Tom lay on his back and repeated the deed much slower but just as satisfying. Now a few minutes after waking the urge was back and the images just as fresh. Tom wondered what turned her on when she was with a man, would it be slow exploration, intimate conversation, prolonged oral stimulation?

He imagined what might have happened if the orgasmic spell on Harry had not been broken by the roar of a jet ski, Harry's fingers had brushed the underside of his erection, her breathing still rapid after her strong orgasm. Her other hand had still gripped her pubic mound holding her pussy lips open, would she have let Tom touch her, slide his fingers into her glistening opening, or want his mouth clamped on her large clitoris. Would Harry have gripped his cock, just like he was now, would she have tugged on him until he spurted over her naked body, or would she have pulled him to her mouth and wanted his cum.

Tom's hand stretched his foreskin down in a long stroke, his thumb rubbed the slit, smearing pre-cum around the head. Repeated the action, faster, then faster still. Tom made a mental note to buy some lubricant, if he kept up this amount of wanking his prick would be covered in callouses.

Did Tom just want Harry's mouth or hand to pleasure him? No, he wanted to make love to her, give her orgasms, slide inside her bareback, cum deep into her womb!

That final thought triggered another eruption of spunk from his cock, hitting his chest and stomach. Wiping the cooling ejaculate from his body, Tom wearily rose and walked to his bathroom.

He looked in the mirror, and thought, "Just another fantasy, which will never be fulfilled, perhaps he needed a trip to the island's main town tonight."

There were at least two bars there, where reputedly you could pick up decent and clean prostitutes, maybe he could find one who liked acting for an old man's pleasure.