“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “Anything you leave, I’ll take care of.” True to his word, he wolfed down every bit I couldn’t eat. Then he stretched out next to me and we both sipped our drinks from colorful straws while the hammock rocked us.
“That looks like the Big Dipper,” I announced, my eyes cast upwards. “Do we see the same stars down here as in New York?”
“Pretty much. Except here there’s less pollution so everything’s more brilliant.” Then he proceeded to point out the various constellations with their prominent stars.
“I can’t get over all the knowledge you’ve accumulated,” I said. “You’re like a living encyclopedia.”
That analogy made him laugh. “I hope I’m more interesting than that.”
I snuggled into his shoulder. “Oh, yes, Peter … you surely are.”
To say that I slept well is an understatement. I literally didn’t move from the moment I hit our king-sized bed to the next morning. Peter had gone for an early morning swim. When he returned to wake me, His sun-bronzed, nude body glowed with vigor.
“Val, time to get up.” He gently caressed my back and shoulders. “It’s a glorious day and there’s so much I want to show you.”
Through half-closed eyes, I surveyed the muscled magnificence of his form. With one finger I traced the contours of his arm. “You’re like an Apollo,” I whispered.
“Then you are Aphrodite,” he replied, kissing me.
I couldn’t resist the temptation to touch and admire him. My hands smoothed over his firm flesh. I should have been satiated, but viewing him naked in the early morning light stirred my libido. Venturing downwards, I caressed his large cock and the full globes beneath, feeling pleasure when his cock stirred and lengthened.
In another moment, he stretched out beside me. “Our excursion will have to wait,” he said, lifting me on top of him. “Since you started this encounter, I’m putting you in charge.”
This was a new twist. Usually Peter took over, instigating and leading me. Now it was my turn. What would I like to do?
For starters, I wanted to tease and titillate him, make him cry out his need the way I usually did. I slid down until my face was level with his fully erect cock. Using my tongue, I stroked the tip and then the sides of his sex, finally taking all of him into my mouth.
I heard him groan and experienced a vicarious joy in his pleasure. But I wasn’t finished. Next, I cupped those solid globes underneath; alternately stroking and licking them, watching them harden even more.
“Val,” he growled. “You’re turning me on too fast. Slow down.”
Not on your life. With fiendish delight, I increased my stroking. The shoe was on the other foot; I wanted to see Peter lose control for once.
“Let yourself go,” I crooned. “Just enjoy yourself.”
“You vixen,” he cried, as he exploded, spewing his milky stream all over me.
I didn’t mind … not one bit. Triumphant, I sat astride his thighs, relishing this reversal of roles.
He pulled me down on top of him and held me close. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“No, Peter,” I protested. “It was spontaneous. I couldn’t resist your magnificent physique.”
He chuckled and rumpled my hair. “Give me a few minutes and then I can satisfy you.”
And he did.
* * * *
Peter drove the jeep up the winding road of the Waimea Canyon to Koke’e State Park.
“Did you know Kaua’i is the oldest of the major Hawaiian Islands? How about six million years old?”
I was duly impressed. “Gorgeous scenery,” I said, gazing at the lush foliage.
“Wait till we reach the overlook. Then you’ll see some spectacular views. We’ll be 4,000 feet above the coast.”
He was so right. Stunning vistas of soaring cliffs and deep valleys formed a panorama I could never have imagined.
“This place has everything — sandy beaches, coral reefs, rare flowers and a waterfall that’s second to none. We’ll see it later,” he promised.
Meanwhile, I busied myself taking photos from every conceivable angle. I’d brought a tiny camera and planned to snap as many photos as possible. Photography had always been a love of mine and here was the perfect opportunity.
“Let me shoot some of you,” he suggested.
Peter had a good eye for composition — what didn’t he do well — and he shot some excellent pictures.
“I’ll have to photograph you nude,” he said with an impish smile.
“No way,” I retorted.
“Why not?” He looked surprised. “Are you ashamed of your body? It’s very lovely.”
His words gave me pause. “I don’t like pinup type pictures,” I explained.
“Neither do I. The photos I have in mind would be nothing like that. Think about it; I’d like to have some mementos of our trips together.”
That made sense. “Fine. In that case, I don’t mind.”
Wailua Falls cascaded eighty feet down from a sheer ledge. The Falls were actually twin cascades, as they were separate at the top and plunged in a dazzling display of waterpower to a clear pool below.
We stood for several long minutes in silence at the sheer force of nature.
“Look, a rainbow,” I cried, catching a glimpse of the full spectrum of colors. Much more striking than the rainbow in Hans Schmidt’s Intimate Water Works. “Oh, Peter. This is so beautiful. But I don’t think my camera will even begin to capture what I’m seeing.”
“Don’t worry. There are postcards in town with great photos of the Falls; they’re very famous.”
After hiking some of the trails, we headed for lunch at the Kilohana Plantation. It turned out to be one of the island’s most elegant restaurants. We ate outdoors and, afterwards, explored the grounds in a horse-drawn carriage.
Peter drove us to a secluded beach for an afternoon of swimming and sunbathing. Although we hadn’t brought our suits along, swimming in the nude seemed second nature to me. Thinking ahead, he’d stored some towels and a blanket in the Jeep. Emerald green lawns and groves of ironwood trees set off the golden sand and turquoise waters.
An idyllic retreat — one I would remember for years to come.
CHAPTER 13
The last night before we left Kaua’i, we cuddled together on the hammock. A full moon leant a special aura to our beautiful surroundings.
“What is it, Val?” Peter asked. “You seem sad.”
He was so right; I was sad. “We have to leave tomorrow.” In the short time we’d been here, I’d grown very fond of our private pool and luxurious accommodations. The delicious breakfasts and exotic snacks left discreetly on our deck in a special thermal container were an added bonus I would miss.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What am I forgetting?” I asked, tipping up my chin to face him.
“Our next holiday. We’ll be taking off in just a few days.”
Of course; how dumb of me. “You’re right. I feel better already. Where are we headed?” I didn’t think he’d tell me, but I could ask.
He chuckled. “Always curious. You’ll have to wait and see.”
“But I’ll need to pack.”
“You won’t need any more than on this trip.” He caressed my bare back and buttocks. After our recent swim, we were both nude underneath an enormous terry towel.
The hammock swayed gently as we lay contentedly in each other’s arms. I would definitely miss this place, but the thought of our next adventure buoyed my spirits.
We were back in New York by Monday evening. Peter brought me right to my door.
“Do you want to stay?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not tonight. You need your beauty sleep and I have work to do. I’ll call during the week and, don’t forget, I’ll expect you to be ready Friday evening for our second holiday.”
After a long goodbye kiss, he left. My apartment seemed empty after he’d gone. I wandered ar
ound, sorted through some mail and checked my phone messages. Nothing from Tony — which was a relief, but also a surprise. Had he forgotten me?
I couldn’t help picturing him cavorting around Australia with a curvaceous blond on his arm, and in his bed. I started to grow angry at the very thought of his gallivanting when I suddenly realized I was doing the very same thing.
That thought brought me up sharp. I tried to rationalize my affair with Peter as a matter of need, my need for companionship and sexual satisfaction. If Tony had been around more, I wouldn’t have succumbed to Peter’s charm. Feeling somewhat justified, I took a long, leisurely bath and went to bed.
* * * *
Trish was waiting for me at the gallery when I arrived Tuesday morning.
“Well, you’re looking tanned and terrific,” she said, the minute she saw me. “How was your holiday?”
“Fabulous.” I wasn’t about to go into any personal details — my private life was strictly that — private.
She wasn’t satisfied with a one-word answer. “Was Peter a good companion? Did you get on well together?”
“The best,” I said, settling in at my desk and rifling through some mail and messages. “I can’t wait for our next adventure. By the way,” I sliced her a quick glance; “Did you hear from Tony? There weren’t any messages from him at home.”
Trish shrugged. “Not really. He phoned Scott about business, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. Were you expecting his call?”
“No, not exactly.” Still, it bothered me that Tony could let so many days go by without inquiring about my welfare. I couldn’t mean very much to him, after all. Which was annoying and a relief at the same time. If he didn’t call, I wouldn’t have to lie. But I did feel neglected.
Tony phoned on Wednesday when I was at the gallery. “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice sounded far away. “I miss you. What have you been up to?”
A leading question. I hemmed and hawed about this and that, not saying very much.
He didn’t pursue the matter, which was strange. He’s usually quick to pick up on topics I’m trying to avoid. In hindsight, I should have been more suspicious. As it was, I considered myself lucky to avoid any prolonged questioning. It would have been difficult to account for three whole days away without lying.
“I’m sending off a package for you,” he said. “So be on the lookout.”
That was a nice surprise. At least he thought of me now and then. “What is it?”
He chuckled. “You’ll see … it’s a surprise.”
All the men in my life wanted to surprise me. Well, only two at the moment. “Okay. I’m eagerly awaiting it.”
We said a tender goodbye and he promised to phone again soon. Then he added a few words that definitely should have alerted me.
“Remember, I don’t want you sitting home and pining away. Go out and enjoy yourself.”
But I didn’t give those words much thought. Besides, I was not sitting home and pining. That’s for sure.
As planned, Peter picked me up Friday evening. I had my small bag packed and ready for takeoff.
“This will be a shorter flight, so we’ll stop for dinner on our way to the airport,” he said.
Still no word on our destination — but I was becoming accustomed to surprises.
We dined at an intimate restaurant specializing in French cuisine. Peter ordered our meal in fluent French — bouillabaisse, a marvelous fish stew, salad and a freshly baked baguette.
“Dessert will be en route,” he informed me, as he carried out a closed bag of goodies.
I was not about to protest. Every meal or snack with Peter had been delicious. Sure enough, we enjoyed mouth-watering chocolate eclairs and iced espressos midway over the Atlantic Ocean.
“We’ll arrive in less than two hours,” he said. “A lot less than our Hawaiian flight.”
I had a gut feeling we’d be landing on one of the Greek Islands. But I kept my lips sealed. If Peter wanted to surprise me, I’d go along with his plans.
Just before he started our descent, he turned to me with a knowing look. “You’ve already guessed we’re headed for the Greek Islands.”
How did he ascertain that? I hadn’t given him any hints … unless he was a mind reader.
“You don’t know which one, though,” he continued with a smile.
That was true. “How did you know that I knew?”
“Because, Miss Curious, you weren’t asking your usual amount of questions.” He gave me a playful poke in the ribs.
This time I was wearing jeans and a sweater. I hadn’t needed that black dress on our last holiday. I hardly dressed in anything except shorts, tee shirts and jeans. Even my bikini had been superfluous, although I’d taken it along again, just in case.
We landed at a small airport on Mykonos. A driver was awaiting our arrival with a small, sports car.
“No rough roads here,” he said, as he flung our two bags onto the back seat.
I wondered about our accommodations — would they be rustic, as in Kaua’i or entirely different. But I didn’t ask. By now I trusted Peter’s taste completely. Everything he’d chosen had more than suited me.
We drove through small towns of white washed houses until we arrived at our destination — a three-story contemporary villa perched on a hill overlooking a large body of water.
“Here we are,” Peter came to a stop. He retrieved our bags and I followed him inside.
“This is the top level,” he said, as we entered a large living room furnished with modern pieces, mostly white, and some striking artwork. He dropped our bags inside the door of an enormous bedroom, also furnished with sleek, light-colored furnishings. “And here’s the ‘piece de resistance’. With a flourish, he slid open the ceiling to floor glass doors.
We walked out onto a terrace boasting huge pots of colorful flowers. An illuminated rectangular pool was set into the center of the terrace. “From here you can see great views of Panormos Bay. It’s too dark to see much now, but in the morning it will be spectacular.”
All of the rooms opened out onto this magnificent pool. There was an outdoor dining area on the terrace as well as a completely furnished kitchen and indoor dining room. We explored the other levels — the bottom level contained a small gym and a sauna while another bedroom and a game room were on the second level.
“What a lavish setup,” I said. “You are spoiling me, Peter.”
“You’re worth spoiling.” He took me in his arms and held me close. “What do you say to a swim?”
Of course, that’s just what I wanted, too. This time I didn’t even consider the bikini. Our pool was hidden and private — perfect for swimming in the buff.
Instead of a hammock, we found an enormous chaise lounge that was perfect for the two of us to cuddle on. The night was cool so Peter brought out a cotton quilt to cover us.
“Peter, this is super.” I stretched out next to him and sniffed the air, the scent a mixture of sea smells and the perfume of flowering plants.
“There are extraordinary beaches on this island, especially on the northern coast. We’ll explore some of the less crowded ones tomorrow. Most of the tourists are here during the summer months, but now we’ll have the island almost to ourselves and the weather is still fine.”
Something woke me very early the next morning. I remember a jumble of dream images, none very clear. Once up, I could not go back to sleep. Peter was stretched out, dead to the world.
Slipping out of bed, I padded quietly onto the terrace. The first gray streaks of dawn showed as I walked across the wide verandah to see the view. I could make out the outline of water and shore, but little else; it was still too dark.
The warm waters of the pool beckoned and I was soon floating around, eyes closed, relishing the total silence. I didn’t hear Peter until he was right beside me, his hand caressing my stomach.
Startled, I opened my eyes. “Peter … thought you were sound asleep.”
“I missed you,”
he said, with a tender smile, letting his hand glide over me, stroking the inner parts of my thighs. He placed both arms under me, drawing me close.
“It’s so peaceful,” I murmured, resting my head against the firm wall of his chest.
Peter’s mind was on other things beside peace. “This is how I want to photograph you, floating about with your hair spread out around you. I’ll wait until it’s light. Meanwhile, I have to get you in the mood.”
“In the mood for what?”
He flashed one of his wicked grins. “For being photographed as the sensual woman you are.”
And then he proceeded to caress and tantalize every erotic part of my body until he had me aroused and eager. There were steps leading into the pool at one end. He floated me over and sat down on one of them, positioning me to sit astride his thighs.
“Hold onto my shoulders,” he ordered, lifting my buttocks slightly to allow his erect cock to enter me.
“Ah,” I moaned softly, as he filled me. This was a new experience, making love under water. It was at once weightless and grounded by the deep contact.
“Put your legs around me,” he said, “and hold on tight.” With those words, he shifted from a seated position to floating on his back with me securely affixed.
His sheer physical strength was amazing. I could hardly believe he could float about with my weight on him and still make love with consummate ease. His hands moved my thighs up and down in a steady rhythm, reaching into the deepest recesses of my womb. I wanted to take it slow so this incredible experience would last a long time.
His provocative movements soon put me over the top and I cried out as fiery spasms shook my whole body. His climax followed mine and, for a moment, I thought we’d both sink under the water. But he steadied himself and I held on for dear life.
How long we floated like that, still joined, I have no idea. But it was heavenly. Later, we wrapped ourselves in huge soft towels and stretched out on our lounge to watch the sunrise.
“You can see the view,” he said, nibbling at my earlobe.
I couldn’t move a muscle. “Not yet … I’m so sleepy.”
My Virtual Lover Page 6
