The Summer of Aphrodite

by Viva Jones

  This was what she needed, this was her rebellion. She had no time for complications or emotions, Nathalie just wanted to live life to the full, to experience everything that was open to her. This would be her secret, the pleasure she’d keep to herself. And what a pleasure it was to feel a strong, hard cock inside her after all this time, its rhythmic beats inside her cunt, bringing her ever closer to orgasm.

  But Michel was nothing if surprising, and suddenly he flipped them both over, and Nathalie was on top of him, and she sat up now, acclimatising to the new sensations, and then he sat upright as well, and held her tight in his arms, and as they pounded each other, all she could think of was his cock inside her, rubbing against her, her sensitivities increasing with each movement they made.

  She came in loud gasps and cries, and he quickly followed her, and then after they lay separately, each restoring their own breaths and allowing the air-con to chill their skin.

  ***

  It was around this time that Richard and Anna drove past, having enjoyed a Friday night supper of grilled seafood along the sea front. Anna was now in high spirits, having escaped into a fantasy world of fiction all afternoon, writing about Fatima and Maria’s first sexual experience, which took place under a fig tree as they were picking fruit. The scene forced her to remember her first time with Nathalie, which set her off on an exquisite feeling of longing and desire, of hopelessness and loss. And to her astonishment, these emotions made her feel alive, and the words had flown off the keyboard as she recreated the idea that what they were doing was wrong, yet oh so compelling and wonderful.

  This in itself had put her on a high - perhaps she was a writer after all, and she was writing from her heart, which was surely the most important thing? She felt alive and invigorated, and now determined that, to draw Nathalie closer, the best thing she could do was to make love with her husband, and be happy. Her writing had kept her in a state of excitement all day, and she’d decided it was time to give Richard a chance.

  ‘Nathalie made us this oil, we really should give it a go,’ she suggested once they got home, holding the bottle up and teasing her skirt down with her other hand. ‘It’ll soothe our nerves. Get rid of all our stress. Come on, I’ve been working so hard today, I could do with a back rub.’

  Richard didn’t need to be asked twice. He slipped out of his clothes and joined Anna on the bed. She was now lying naked, waiting for him to start. Not quite sure what to do, he poured some oil onto her back, but it immediately trickled off and onto the sheets.

  ‘Not so much!’ she said with a sigh. ‘You’re wasting it, and you’re ruining the bedclothes.’

  He tried to scoop it back up onto her skin, and began to slide his hands around, covering the oil as evenly as possible.

  ‘More on my shoulders,’ she urged him. ‘They ache like mad.’

  Obediently he rubbed her shoulders, trying to put some force into his actions. Then he swooped down her back, trying to feel each vertebrae. What a fantastic body she had, he thought. So smooth and slender. Then he got to her buttocks, and start working the oil into her skin, conscious of how close he was to the possibility of just slipping himself inside her. What if he touched her, just lightly, in that area, he wondered, starting to massage her inner thighs. She clearly wanted him to, didn’t she? Or was it too soon, and he should spend more time on the massage itself before leaping to the sex bit? He started working on her legs instead. He could always go back.

  Anna was becoming increasingly aroused. Touch me, touch me, she kept thinking, but Richard kept pummelling her calves instead. Richard. The thought that it was him back there, working on her, failed to inspire. She needed someone else. Anna let her mind wander. She couldn’t capture Nathalie - his hands were too large and strong to be her - so her masseur had to be a man. She cast her mind back, remembering a Swedish client in her PR days, an arrogant sod who’d made everyone’s lives hell. She’d quite fancied him at first but he’d turned on her following a disappointing campaign, destroying both her confidence and her standing in the company.

  Now here he was, Lars Svenbolm, studying her body like it was a piece of meat. And here she was, naked with this man working at her skin. And now he was working on her thighs, and every now and then his finger brushed against her, and she felt herself open her legs just a tiny bit, such a tiny movement he might not have noticed it, but there went his finger again, and she longed for it to touch her properly, so she let out the faintest of cries, and sure enough, Lars moved his hand towards her, and started working some oil in there, and the feeling was exquisite, and Lars was such a complete bastard, but she loved him touching her in this way, anyway, and she longed for him to enter her, just like that, to pull her up and enter her from behind, roughly, and to push and to push and, suddenly there he was, first with his finger and then, as she cried again, raising herself up, he was sliding himself into her, deeper and deeper, and she pushed back to meet him, and then his hands were underneath her, cupping her breasts, and she felt his mouth on her neck, and this was Lars, the same Lars who’d ruined her career, but really he desired her and wanted her and was pushing harder and harder inside her and then suddenly Anna was crying out with some animalistic force she’d almost forgotten about, writhing with the exquisite pleasure of it all, and Lars was shuddering and collapsing on top of her, and she caught his fingers in her hand, and entwined her own with his in gratitude and affection.

  After a couple of minutes, he stirred. ‘Did you just - ?’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna sighed. ‘And it was wonderful.’

  ‘Me too. I do love you, you know,’ Richard whispered.

  Richard. Anna had almost forgotten he was there.

  ***

  In a private villa, Tanya and Dolores were drinking champagne in the kitchen as a magnificent meal was being served. There was caviar, lobster, king prawns and crab, as well as platters of sushi, and each dish looked more extravagant and finely prepared than the previous.

  ‘What’s for dessert?’ she asked, as a tray of oysters was wheeled out past her.

  ‘We are,’ Dolores said with a giggle.

  Tanya hadn’t taken her seriously, but then the woman who appeared to be in charge - they were all speaking Russian so Tanya hadn’t a clue what was going on - instructed them to remove their clothes and lie down on what looked like two large trolleys. They did so and were surrounded by kitchen staff, smearing and spreading and pouring dollops of caramel and chocolate and cream upon their bodies. Tanya, who was fairly tipsy by now, just giggled as her breasts were covered in something called dulce de leche and her pussy laden with fresh, moist fruit.

  As they lay side by side on their trolleys, Dolores reached for her mobile, shouted ‘Smile’ and snapped a quick shot of them both.

  ‘Doe!’ shrieked a giggling Tanya. ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘One for the grandkids,’ Dolores joked. ‘You know it’s some bloke’s fiftieth,’ she called out as they were wheeled into the salon, to large cheers and applause.

  The birthday boy, who could barely stand up straight, admired the girls as if they were the most dazzling presents he’d ever received, and to Tanya’s dismay, a few more photos were taken. Then he leant forward and took a lick at her nipple, and evidently pronounced the taste to be very fine indeed. The others were cheering and drinking what looked like shots to her, but there were bottles of champagne and other wines all over the table. Two other men had started licking Dolores’ breasts, and someone ran a finger down Tanya’s stomach and sucked on the contents. The birthday boy admonished him and started licking her all over, her arms, her breasts and her stomach, just small laps, little dashes of the tongue, as if not to whet his appetite. Then he got to her parted legs and started to eat the fruit, a piece of strawberry here, some banana there, and with each piece he revealed a bit more of her pussy. He indicated that the others could taste her breasts, and now Tanya had
no fewer than three men licking her, delicately and gently, like cats at a bowl of cream.

  As the man scooped a peeled grape from her pussy, his tongue caught her clitoris, and Tanya let out a quiet sigh. This apparently encouraged him further, and he began lapping at the fruit, pulling it away with his hands, and then he stood back to admire his effort, and before she could say ‘Condom!’, he was undoing his trousers and had plunged inside her.

  But his cock felt very nice inside her after all that anticipation, and Tanya thought he seemed like a clean man, a businessman of sorts, who probably had a family back in Moscow or wherever. He only needed a few thrusts before he came, squirting his cum over the cream on her stomach, she was grateful to note. He scooped some up in his fingers and placed them in her mouth, and Tanya sucked obediently. Then he laughed and wandered back to the main table, where another round of shots was waiting.

  The two men at her breasts now took their chance. One unzipped his fly, smeared his cock in the dulce de leche, and then offered it to Tanya to suck. She did so, loving the hit of rich caramel against the smoothness of his shaft. She was still exposed down there and it all felt so naughty, but she was a naughty girl, Tanya decided, who enjoyed sex and the power it brought her as well as the confidence and she most certainly enjoyed the money. She licked and sucked him, while the second man put on a condom and slipped inside her, hoisting her legs on his shoulders, and as he pummelled her the other man pushed his cock deeper inside her throat before suddenly pulling out and coming all over her breasts. Tanya took a fingerful of cum and the caramel sauce and licked it, before the second man took both her breasts in his hands, mixing up no end of juices and creams and bits of fruit. Tanya laughed, finding it all absurdly funny. She was a human trifle! This was what they all craved? Then he came and nodded at her, as if thanking her for a job well done. He pulled off and joined the others at the bar.

  Then two of the kitchen staff returned and wheeled Tanya and Dolores back into the kitchen, where the woman in charge told them to wash themselves in the sink and take the car back. She handed each an envelope full of euros and indicated that they should be quick.

  By the time Tanya returned to Fig Tree Villas, she couldn’t even remember where the villa was located, or what the birthday boy had even looked like. She decided that, in the long-run, that was probably no bad thing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Douglas woke up at his usual time of six, climbed out of bed and put the kettle on. He ate some fruit and muesli while sipping black tea and listening to the BBC World Service, then he had a quick wash and put on his cycling gear. His strain was better now, thanks to Nathalie’s oil, and this was his first ride for over a week. He’d missed it.

  He enjoyed getting ready to go out in the quiet of dawn. In fact, he enjoyed the peace so much, he’d almost come to resent his neighbours’ presence entirely. Sometimes Douglas felt he could live quite happily in his own world, with just the occasional visit from Svetlana for recreation. Sadly, that delight was looking less possible these days.

  He started pedalling off, passing a pregnant-looking cat at the bins. Poor wretch. Douglas was quite fond of cats really, he just didn’t like to show it in front of that obsessive Ginnie. He turned right out of the complex and started his favourite route, climbing gently upwards and breathing steadily all the while. He was fit for someone in his sixties; his body could belong to a man half his age. Cyprus was good for him. It was a simple, healthy lifestyle, and what with his early morning rides and his late-night swims, the climate suited him well.

  But today Douglas was troubled. Just following his normal route bothered him, though he was damned if he was going to let some Russian pimp interfere with his life. What happened with Nathalie had scared him more than he liked to admit, but he knew that if anyone had seriously meant to kill him, they could have done so many times by now.

  The air grew increasingly warmer as Douglas cycled, and one or two cars began to appear. Not the battered Mercedes though, he saw to his relief. How he flinched at the sound of every passing vehicle, though. What if everyone were to stay indoors for one day, he thought, and let him roam around the island alone. What if there were no cars, no traffic, no noise? No Ludmilla and no angry pimp. How blissful his life would be.

  He thought of Svetlana, of her smooth skin and her extraordinary physical suppleness. He imagined her undressing before him, teasing him; the first glimpse of her nipples that never failed to arouse him. He thought of her marvellous apple-like breasts and that wonderfully slim bottom.

  In some ways, he was more crazy about her than he’d ever been about any woman, and Douglas wondered if it was because he had no control over what she did when he wasn’t paying. The very thought of another man taking his pleasure from her drove him mad, but it most certainly heightened the sexual experience. Sometimes he liked her to tell him about her other clients, and what they did together. It turned him on just picturing her with someone else. Once, he’d fucked her from behind, doggy-style, and as she’d told him about the others, he’d tweaked her nipples so hard she’d shrieked out in pain. Then he’d fallen against her smooth back, crying out in ecstasy and longing for her to give up everyone else and work purely for him.

  But then, it had been exactly that kind of loose talk that had got him into this mess in the first place.

  He had no choice but to give her up. It had become too dangerous right now on the coast. He needed a cooling off period, and then, perhaps in a few months, he could try again. It felt like an eternity. Douglas sighed as he pedalled up the mountain road. Did he dare risk one more time, he wondered. It was a Saturday, for God’s sake, what was he to do with those full balls? Where was Nathalie after all this time, what had happened to his goddess? Why wasn’t his manifesting working?

  He let himself sink into that place, deep inside himself. I command you to come to me, to desire me, to fulfil me, he whispered, picturing her. Stop resisting and come to me tonight. I am a powerful sexual being, and I command your attention.

  Then, Not Ginnie, he added quickly, to be on the safe side. For God’s sake! Anyone but her.

  ***

  ‘Hello, you, oh no, you are pregnant, aren’t you?’ Ginnie called out in despair as she caught sight of the tortoiseshell cat she’d been trying to rescue. ‘I knew it. Come here, you poor thing, come on.’ She was standing at the bins, throwing her rubbish out while Douglas was away. ‘Let me go and get you some breakfast, OK?’

  She rushed back to her house, grabbed a square of cat food and a bowl and returned to the bins where the cat was still prowling. Opening the square, Ginnie emptied its contents into the bowl and then placed it in a sheltered spot not far away.

  ‘Come on girl, I’m a friend, you know that.’ She’d been leaving food out every night, but had no way of knowing which cat actually ate it. She couldn’t stay and watch, not after what had happened with Douglas. But now the cat definitely was pregnant, the little thing would be starving. Ginnie had to befriend her now and get her off to Tiggles, where she and the kittens might stand a chance.

  Ginnie crept back to fetch the cat box, hoping she might be able to grab her by the scruff of the neck and deposit her inside before she’d understood what was happening. She had to be decisive. She turned the box on its end, and slowly inched her way closer to the cat, whispering all the time. ‘Good girl, you know I’m a friend, you can trust me, it’s all right, really it is, it’s all right,’ but the cat began looking at her suspiciously, and Ginnie knew it was only a matter of time before it fled. Suddenly a car sped up to the car park, music blaring from its open windows, and the cat took off, running into the scrub land beyond. Ginnie groaned.

  Who could be making so much noise at this time of day? She marched fiercely to the car park, to spot a gang of six youths - three male and three female, all tattoos and nose-studs - arriving in a hire car. What were they doing there? Ginnie stepped back, s
elf-conscious in her sarong, and returned to retrieve the cat box and bowl. It was only once she’d returned to her own house that she realised the awful truth.

  They were renting number two next door.

  ***

  ‘God, what a racket, should I go and do something about it?’ Richard asked as the gang of six started playing techno music loudly beside the pool.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Anna said. Richard with a gang of youths? He’d be about as effective as a pensioner against Mike Tyson. And anyway, she liked what he was doing to her too much. Or was it what Lars was doing, she didn’t know any more.

  His hands, running smoothly over her back, the intoxicating smell of ylang ylang, and the promise of what was to come were filling her with lazy Saturday morning pleasure. He started massaging her legs, pressing his thumbs into her muscles and making her squirm as he ran his hands down her calves. Lars might be a complete bastard, but he knew what he was doing all right. Then he started working upwards, towards the place she most wanted him to touch, and when finally he did, she cried out in pleasure.

  But Lars was starting to lose it, he no longer hit exactly the right spot, and Anna had to sink further into the recesses of imagination to come up with an alternative.

  There was James, of course. Anna hadn’t wanted to reawaken that need, or to reopen those wounds for that matter, but perversely found she had to so as not to let her husband down, so successful had their recent love-making been. Now James was worshipping her in his and Samantha’s bed; James was running late to pick up Harmony from her ballet class because he couldn’t get enough of her; James was taking her roughly in the kitchen during one of Samantha’s pashmina promotional parties.