You Are What You Eat

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krr1957
krr1957
1,558 Followers

He seemed put out that I was leaving with such unseemly haste and he asked me if I would wait a day or two to see if he could juggle some free time. I laughed it off and said that it would be just "girl talk" and by lunchtime I was already through Lisbon and well on my way.

Claire was as lively and free-spirited as I remembered her and we spent five days visiting galleries and museums and generally enjoying the best that Seville had to offer in the way of bars and restaurants.

She seemed surprised at my decision with regard to living with Mateus. She was the same age as me and her published books had made her attractively wealthy but she had no immediate intention of settling down. By the end of my stay I was tempted to sound her out, to get her views on bisexuality. She was a beautiful woman and, given the circles she moved in, I was sure she must have received propositions from both sexes. I was curious to know how she dealt with it but everything she revealed suggested that she was strictly heterosexual and so I never plucked up the courage.

On the journey home I tried to examine my feelings about her, to see if there was any sort of attraction, but there was simply the warmth that one felt from being with a true friend.

After the break I felt reinvigorated and ready to face the world. I went out to the studio and fired up my laptop ready to catch up on my e-mails. The longest message was from my London agent. She told me that I had received two new commissions and that the plans for an exhibition of my paintings at New York's prestigious Lafayette gallery were finalized.

Buoyed up by the news I stood up at the window and mouthed a silent cheer. Immediately I did so I felt slightly embarrassed. Sitting out on the grass watching my strange pantomime was Izabel in company with a friend. They were seated in a couple of deckchairs with a bottle of wine between them on a small table.

I stepped away from the window but, after a moment's hesitation, I knew I had to be bold. Gathering myself, I went outside and crossed the grass towards them. They were both wearing bikinis and formed a stark contrast.

Izabel had chosen black which was nicely set off by her dusky natural colouring whilst her friend had favoured white in keeping with her thick blonde hair and altogether paler complexion.

As I approached the blonde smiled displaying a set of perfect teeth.

"Is this her?"

Her accent was west coast American and I guessed that this must be Pam. Izabel had spoken of her over dinner one night. She was an exchange student spending a year at Izabel's university reading Iberian Studies.

"Good afternoon girls. May I join you for a minute?"

Without waiting for a reply I sat down on the grass between them.

"It's a beautiful view. The original owner had great taste."

"A great fortune more likely."

Pam laughed at Izabel's remark and I hoped that the ice had been broken. For the next few minutes Izabel gave a brief history of the area and I got the impression that she sided with the peasant farmers who had been displaced to allow the magnificent landscaping that we were now enjoying. As she continued to speak I felt that we had returned to blessed normality.

Izabel paused to take a sip of wine and, as she did so, Pam leaned across, her heavy breasts threatening to spill from her barely adequate bikini top.

"Make her do it. I want to see."

Her simple remark hit me like a cosh and I felt myself flush with humiliation. Obviously Izabel had not been discrete and I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Mustering as much dignity as was left to me I started to get up.

"I'll leave you girls to it."

"Wait."

I froze midway and Izabel stood up in front of me. Without a trace of embarrassment she shimmied her bikini bottoms down her legs and stepped out of them.

I was a deer caught in headlights. I knew I had to flee but I was incapable of movement. She was standing no more than a foot in front of me and she ran her fingers through her nest of curls casually fluffing them.

"Come and get it."

It struck me at that moment. It was not attraction it was debasement. Perhaps I had always harboured latent lesbian desires but they might never have surfaced had Izabel not allied them to her unique brand of imperiousness.

I knew Pam was watching, I knew it was so terribly wrong, but I was already bending my knees.

"Oh shit!"

The expletive came from Pam and I could imagine her incredulity as I put out my tongue and slowly began to lick.

To start with Izabel was dry, she was simply proving a point, but after a moment or two I knew I was getting to her. It was then, presumably to impress Pam, that she became theatrical.

"Yes...lick it..."

"Get your tongue in...let's see how deep you can go..."

With every demand I felt myself becoming more aroused and she too was getting hotter.

"Oh God, I'm creaming....come on, I want to hear you swallow."

I did not need to be exhorted. I had my tongue buried deep and now I sucked the rich essence from her. As I did so she shifted forward pushing me under and bending my neck back but I did not feel the pain.

I wanted to make her come, to drain her, and I brought up my hands to hold her to me. As an artist I preferred the word derrière and hers was perfect. It felt smooth and plump under my touch, so different from a man's coarser musculature. I found myself running my hands appreciatively over her contours even as my tongue continued its greedy assault.

"Hold still!..."

I remained fixed beneath her, my mouth wide open. As her legs shook I felt a hot spurting at the back of my throat which, once started, seemed never ending. She was gasping, no longer mistress of her own limbs, and with each new jerk of her body I was rewarded with more of her taste.

At the end I had to fall back from her as her uncontrolled weight threatened my spine but by then she was completely spent. She slumped back into the deckchair whilst I knelt on the grass licking my lips like a five dollar whore.

"I want her to do me."

I felt a hot rush of anger. I had brought myself lower than I would have thought possible and I had had enough. I turned to face Pam, the expletive ready on my lips, but I was not prepared for what I would see.

At some point she had taken off her bikini and she was now slouched in the deckchair with one leg over each arm. With one hand she was rubbing her impressive breasts whilst she used the other to open her sex.

She was completely shaved but this only served to emphasise the raw pinkness of her inner labia which were already wet with arousal. As soon as I saw her I was lost but she too had picked up on the nuances.

"Come over here slut."

I went on my knees.

"Lick it."

She used both hands to part herself presenting a dark gash fully illuminated by the overhead sun.

I used the flat of my tongue and groaned as I roved over the whole of her sex. Her taste, coming so soon after Izabel, was subtly different. If I had to guess their ages from taste alone I would have chosen Pam as the younger.

"Hold me open."

I did as she asked whilst she used her own hands to stimulate her nipples. From my vantage point her breasts were broad hillocks surmounted by heavily dimpled teats which she tugged roughly between her fingertips.

The sight, as I continued to toil between her thighs, increased my own arousal and I wondered if Pam could be counted on to return the compliment. The prospect of having her go down on me encouraged me to try even harder to make her grateful and I firmed my tongue and pressed it deep inside her.

To my surprise she immediately started to climax. Her body reared up and the arms of the deckchair creaked as she braced herself. Inside, I felt the, now familiar, contractions, around my tongue but she was not nearly as wet as Izabel.

"Are you finished?"

Izabel sounded almost bored but Pam was not going to let the opportunity slip.

"Not..yet..."

She put her hand to the back of my head painfully entwining her fingers in my hair in the process. She pulled me slightly bringing my mouth to her clitoris. Even with her legs wide spread it remained a shy object and only as I began to lick did I realize that it was not going to put itself fully on display.

I wondered if I was doing something wrong but as Pam, still not fully recovered from her first climax, began to whimper I felt more confident.

"That's it...just there...don't stop."

Her second coming took a lot longer and my tongue felt swollen with effort before she finally exploded.

"Yes!...Oh Fuck!.."

She closed her eyes and squeezed her breasts painfully as she submitted to the power of it and then her body went totally limp and only with a painful effort was she able to unhook her legs from the arms of the chair.

I remained close to her, daring to hope, but Izabel spoke once more.

"Haven't you got something you should be getting on with?"

I looked up at Pam but, as she lazily composed herself, her face held nothing but disdain..

Getting up, I hurried across the lawn to regain the sanctuary of my studio and it took a moment or two to register what was wrong. Sitting next to my laptop was a cup of coffee now almost cold. It could only have been brought by the cook.

I frantically began to check sightlines but the glass wall was open to the world and there was no way she could have missed what was going on out on the lawn. The question was would she tell Mateus?

Catrina must have been in her late forties and had been with Mateus for years. I had worried when I first arrived that, having served as cook to his first wife, she might play Mrs Danvers to my Rebecca but she was a sweet soul with a ready smile and always prepared to go the extra mile.

In earlier years she had been hailed as something of a village beauty and her two darling daughters had inherited the best of her looks. We had even discussed the possibility of them sitting for me one day.

My only hope was that she had been in the room before things had got out of hand.

I had to know.

I went to the sink and cleaned myself up and, having brushed out my hair, I walked back to the house. I entered through the kitchen door but the room was empty and so I walked through to the dining room where I found her laying the table.

I knew, as soon as I saw her, that she had seen everything. Her face expressed both admonition and disappointment. There was no point in beating about the bush.

"What are you going to tell him?"

She fixed me with her dark eyes and there was a long pause before she spoke.

"Tell me, how could you do that to his daughter?"

I knew that Izabel got on well with Catrina but it had not occurred to me that her welfare would be her main concern.

Without even thinking I blurted out my angry reply.

"She made me do it"

As soon as the words were out my mouth I realized how stupid they sounded. Catrina looked at me with contempt and with a flash of anger she lifted the front of her heavy skirt.

"She raises her skirt, you come running?"

My eyes dropped to her legs. They were a little stouter now but I could see that her reputation was not unfounded. I was struck by the fact that she was wearing stockings and the white of the nylon and the matching suspenders made for a striking contrast with the tone of her skin which was a shade darker than Izabel's. I wondered if the wearing of stockings was common amongst older Portuguese women but then I noticed that her panties, which were a sensible everyday design, had a vain edging of pale blue lace.

I quickly looked up but I had let my gaze linger a fraction too long. Without dropping her skirt she interrogated me with her eyes and I felt as if my soul was open to her. After a few seconds of awkward silence she spoke.

"My husband has never done that to me..."

I knew that Catrina had married young and so it was not unfeasible that her only experience had been with her husband but I found it harder to believe that someone as spirited, as she had proved herself to be in conversation, would have chosen a man with such masculine prejudices.

"...but you will do it."

I heard the words but for a moment I did not take them in; only when she reached under her skirt to remove her panties did I fully understand.

I was still struggling for words as she calmly sat down in an armchair and opened her legs. The truth was that I could not do it; not because she was the hired help, although that had a strong bearing, it was simply that I had had enough. My mouth and tongue ached from my earlier exertions and I knew I had to get a grip before I slipped irreversibly into a state of self induced psychosis.

With a sudden spark of clarity I knew that it was not going to work with Mateus. Even if Catrina said nothing I knew that I would have trouble living a continuing lie. However I viewed it recent events had shone a spotlight into dark recesses of my psyche and I needed to understand what it said about me.

I turned my back on Catrina and walked to the door.

"If you don't do this for me, I will tell him."

I was tempted to tell her to do as she wished but, even though my decision was made, I did not want to hurt Mateus any more than I had to. It was a galling prospect but it was a price that had to be paid.

I stopped and turned around. Catrina looked both surprised and a little nervous and the more so as I stepped towards her. I told myself that it was simply a job that had to be done; no more than five minutes and then I could get on with my life. With that thought I knelt down between her legs and pulled my hair back from my face.

I could almost hear the pounding of her heart as I surveyed her sex which was covered by a dark mat of curls that made no concession to a bikini line. Like Izabel she had ruddy, protuberant, labia and, as I moved closer, I watched them swell almost imperceptibly.

In an effort to get it over and done with I put out my tongue and licked firmly along the ruffled ridges but as soon as I did so Catrina had to fight back a squeal. I guessed that, now I had actually dared, she was having second thoughts but she opened her legs even wider and I found my tongue sinking into a warm, moist, interior.

Whilst Izabel's sex had the tautness of youth Catrina had borne two children and there was a soft, relaxed, quality as I blindly explored. Even her taste seemed to have a pleasing maturity but I guess this was a trick of the mind.

Now that I was set to my task she began to whisper in Portuguese. I could not understand what she was saying but it almost sounded like a prayer; only later did it occur to me that she was thanking me and begging me not to stop. Not that I wanted to. There was a gentleness to this coupling which was oddly soothing and I found myself searching out those spots which brought her the greatest pleasure.

She seemed content to have my tongue deep inside but after a few minutes I felt my sorely abused jaw making a painful protest and I gently eased my way up towards her clitoris.

It was not easy to find and I had to press and part her with my fingers to reveal the hidden pink gem. As soon as I touched her with the tip of my tongue she drew a deep gasping breath and it occurred to me that a man who refused to go down on her had probably never given any thought to clitoral stimulation.

She froze as though the tiniest movement might scare me away which, at that moment, was the last thing that she wanted. I licked gently, barely moving my tongue and her first orgasm came quickly. It reached deep into the core of her and she drew in a series of short sharp breaths without exhaling.

I kept my tongue pressed against her clitoris and could feel the manic pounding of her pulse as well as a warm wetness on my chin.

As it came to an end her body stiffened slightly before relaxing once more but I did not relent. Even before she had descended from the plateau I began to lick again with tiny circular movements.

She gasped in surprise as she comprehended that her body was not completely sated and was capable of more.

Her second climax came more slowly but no less violently and she raised her legs into the air as if to salute its arrival. Her body shook and she issued a quiet oath as her body remained balanced on the verge of cramp before the waves of pleasure dissolved all the tension.

She brought her feet wearily back to the floor and I was aware that the tops of her stockings were darkened with perspiration but I was taken with the spirit of mischief.

I began to lick again over the whole of her sex lapping up the fresh, sour-sweet dew. Still speaking in Portuguese she made a fatigued effort to push me away but I slid my hands underneath her and held her tightly.

For the next few moments I licked gently, probing now and then to gauge the extent of her arousal. It seemed that she might be truly exhausted but then, deep inside, I felt a slight increase in pressure and her taste was noticeably stronger.

The numbness in my neck, jaw and tongue had merged into a single dull ache but she was close and I could not stop. How long had I been on my knees? Forty minutes? Perhaps more, it did not matter.

"Agora...por favour..."

She was ready and I knew what she wanted. Once again I switched my attention to her clitoris, stretching her open with my fingers whilst I darted my tongue with rapid teasing flicks.

This time, as she came, she closed her legs about my head and squeezed painfully as she drew up the final vestiges of pleasure from the very depths. I felt her fear that she might fail, that she might collapse with the summit tantalizingly within reach, but with a final screaming effort she reached the roof of the world.

I swallowed her last offering and then her legs went limp. Looking up I found that she had fainted and with a satisfied smile I got up and left her in her state of deshabille.

Chapter 4

Back in my room I was overcome by a feeling of self-loathing. There was no doubt that Catrina had coerced me but I had taken control of the situation and enjoyed doing it. The pretence that I only did these things because I was told to was proving to have a shaky foundation.

I sobbed myself into a fitful sleep and when I awoke I phoned Mateus and told him I would meet him in town for dinner. As I got ready I fretted about how I would break the news to him and, more than once, I wondered if I was making the right decision.

As it happened, by the time evening came, I could hardly talk. My jaw was stiff and my tongue swollen and eating was out of the question. Mateus was almost painfully concerned and insisted that I see his doctor. The following morning I felt a little better but I played out the charade. Based on my symptoms, and I threw in a headache for good measure, the doctor diagnosed neuralgia and prescribed some painkillers.

Mateus was so good about my state of health that I could not bring myself to tell him straight away and when he suggested that I spend a couple of days at the beach house to recuperate I simply took the easy option.

Strictly speaking, the beach house belonged to Izabel. Mateus had had it built for his first wife on the secluded beach front just north of the Cap de Roca but, on her death, she had bequeathed it to her daughter

Mateus said that he had to go back to Stuttgart to deal with a complication and he would try and join me later and so I set off alone on the half hour drive. Having stopped off along the way for some provisions I arrived late in the afternoon.

The house was a simple adobe affair with a single large room on the ground floor giving on to a wooden deck built into the sand. Upstairs there were two bedrooms and a bathroom with wonderful views out to sea.

The house was a little musty when I arrived but with the patio doors open and the help of a mild sea breeze it was soon aired. Without waiting to put away the shopping I changed into my swim suit and waded out to sea where, for the next twenty minutes, I swam a vigorous front crawl.

krr1957
krr1957
1,558 Followers
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