The Villa

I return to the seaside villa early one afternoon to find my lover, Elena, alone atop the bed. With her eyes closed and unaware I am watching silently from the doorway, she is masturbating. 

Elena’s hand glides over her breast, where it rests momentarily as she teases her nipple before slipping inside her underpants. Her hand moves slowly, stretching the delicate fabric. Then, she brings her glistening fingers to her lips and tastes herself - leisurely licking and sucking each finger like a miniature penis. Before putting her hand back inside her pants, Elena thrusts her tongue between two extended fingers as though fantasizing about making love to another woman while that imaginary Sapphic lover fingers her. 

My pants are now open and I am stroking my penis. As Elena nears orgasm, her legs tense, and she buries her head into the pillow. Her body is like a taut bow ready to launch an arrow of sexual gratification. She is a beautiful portrait of private pleasure. Then, Elena cums and I am ready as well. 

Without opening her eyes, Elena whispers, “I want to watch you taste yourself now.” 

I stroke myself several more times before ejaculating into my palm and bringing the pearlescent pool to my lips.

“Go ahead,” she says with an impish smile. “Tell me how it tastes.”

I do as asked and say, “Salty. Warm.”

“Good” she replies, “Now, come over here and taste me…please.”

I join her on the bed; bury my face between her legs; and, deliver another orgasm with my tongue inside her and my hands atop her breasts. Our drained bodies are misted with the perspiration of wanton satisfaction. We both taste salty now, reminding me of the secluded beach outside the villa in which we just made love. 

As we cuddle afterwards, Elena murmurs, “What is our fantasy for tomorrow? Me catching you?” 

With the carnal feast still fresh on our lips, we laugh; we kiss; we taste each other; we taste ourselves. Dreaming of tomorrow, we drift off to sleep.