The Chalet Read online

  The air here is sweet. During the winding drive through the country, I had the top down on the small jeep. The sides of the vehicle were also open to let in the breeze, the heat, and the light. The urgent breeze swirled over the exterior of the vehicle and danced with my hair while the soft, hot zephyr within alternately pressed my thin cotton dress tight to me before whipping it away again in a sudden gust. I laughed at how easily this place could put me under its spell, teasing my clothes away from my body. No sooner had I smoothed a fold back into place before the breeze lifted another edge and exposed more of my bare skin to the elements.

  There are others staying at the chalet. They are easygoing and friendly. Within minutes of meeting we laughed and spoke as easily as friends of a lifetime. Our natural comfort and the dark heat of the night did away with unnecessary unease and allowed us to swim naked together without shame. Nude, we splashed and played together until long into the night. Though I stayed late, I was not the last to leave. Whatever occurred between the last to leave I don’t know, for I slept soundly.

  In the mornings I’ve taken to having a short workout outdoors. It feels good to stretch and bend my body in such a way that I seem never to have the space or time for when I’m at home. My limbs grow long and supple as my skin becomes softer and browner in the sun. I notice a light glow of moisture condensing all over my body, defining many curves and crevices on my warm skin. I spread my legs wide and touch my toes, feeling the fire in my thighs as they go tight under the strain. I like this heat. I like this thin sheen of sweat and the tightness that comes in my belly and thighs. I like to feel my body working—like when I wrap my legs around a lover and hold him fast. Bodies are meant to work, to twist and bend, to glisten with effort. I feel the warmth of the terracotta hot on my buttocks as I sit down to stretch my legs. The warmth of the earth caresses every inch of the skin it touches. Hot and direct under my bottom where the contact is firmest. But only warm and gentle under my thighs and calves where contact is less direct. In the bright sunlight my hair becomes warm to the touch and the heat brings out of it the smell of lavender. Dew forms over the surface of my skin, droplets condensing here and there among the imperceptible down and in the imprint of my navel.

  Upon finishing my exercise, I have the luxury of being able to bathe in the sea. I used to strip out of my workout clothes and into a bikini. But, having found myself alone, I saw little need even for the bikini. There is no one here to judge my body or school me in the ways of decency. No one except the sun, the air, and the sea. And they all welcome my nudity—the sun with the kisses of her warm rays and the sea with the million lapping tongues of every wave in the surf. The water is pleasantly cool between my legs, bringing respite to the heat of my thighs and of my vulva. The swell makes my breasts buoyant and I can hardly feel their weight as the sea takes me. In time, the salt water of the ocean rinses clean my own salty flesh, and the newly wet skin sparkles in the sun. It’s so easy to be naked here. Sometimes it feels so natural that I fear I might walk out of the sea and into the town before I realised I was wearing nothing at all.

  As the sun bursts high into the sky and its heat becomes fiercer, it’s good to get indoors into the shade. I take a quick shower to rinse off the salt of the sea and I find that, unlike at home, I need almost no hot water. The clear, crisp water washes through every crevice and over every hill of my body. After the gentle sea and the warm, still air, the cold shower is revitalizing. The sudden change brings out gooseflesh on my skin and for a moment I can feel my nipples tighten and harden into prominent peaks on the softer, suppler globes of my breasts.

  In the heavy, languid heat I consider drying myself with a towel. But the effort would only make me sticky and hot all over again. Instead, I decide to lay naked and uncovered on the wide, soft bed and let the heat and the gentle breeze dry me in time. The bed sheets are soft and smell faintly of rosewood. They are warm to the touch and I melt into them, molded in their softness.

  This warmth, this freedom, this happiness I feel reminds me of being a girl on holiday with my parents. I remember this same sort of heat—deep and pervasive. I had been beside the hotel pool with my parents when suddenly I had the strongest, strangest, most wonderful feeling. It was like one hundred sensations of pleasure and joy that I’d had as a girl all coming together at once as the desire of a woman. I left my parents at the side of the pool and hurried back to the hotel room. Locking the door behind me, I spread myself out across the bed. It all happened so naturally, the way the wetness spread through my vagina and how my fingers, so new to giving myself pleasure, knew exactly where to touch. It was so wonderful because it felt so natural and so right. My body wanted this. Needed this. And I could find nothing wrong with touching myself until I had an orgasm.

  Even now, I love to find that pleasure again. I cannot understand how so many women have so much reluctance toward their bodies; how giving themselves so much pleasure can embarrass them. I love the way my opening can be so secret and tight at one moment and so yielding and welcoming the next. I love the feeling of my short, sparse hair under my palm as my hand makes its way over the mound and my fingers find their way to deeper, softer recesses. The tender inner lips of my pussy swell into bloom as the outer lips spread wide, opening me to the warmth. My clitoris too becomes more prominent, but is at first so tender and sensitive that I must stroke it through its cloche—a proud peak protecting the delicate bud from the maddening pleasure-pain.

  A lover has introduced me to the pleasure of toys along with the pleasure of my touch. Toys often work best on me in the hands of another. But when I feel like this, so hot and carefree, I know that my own hand will make the toy come alive. What I’ve brought with me is soft to the touch but firm through its length. The toy is thick with a wide base and a round, tapered tip. After my fingers have coaxed opened my pussy lips and my cunt honey flows shamelessly, I moisten the toy slightly with my mouth before slowly pressing the tip into me. I angle the toy upwards and allow it to touch my aching clit. Waves of pleasure pass through me as I manipulate the piece. Before each wave subsides, almost before I can stand it, I push it just a little deeper into me. I nearly cry out with joy as the fleshy tip moves along the ridges of my hidden depth. For a while I move the toy slowly, almost imperceptibly, as it and my fingers touch me in so many of the right places at once. When my pussy, my fingers, the toy and even my thighs are slick with the proof of my pleasure, I push the toy deep inside me, all the way to the hilt. Its soft thickness spreads me wide, just like a man. Although I’ve been playing with myself and feel like my hot, swollen pussy is gaping and boundless, I feel a sweet tinge of pleasure-pain as the fleshy member stretches wide the ovular muscle at the opening of my cunt. The opening of my pussy pulses hungrily around the thick base of the member while, from deep inside, honey flows over the tip and down the shaft as the toy finds my innermost joy. As I rock the toy back and forth, in and out of me, I allow my fingers to stroke my clit directly. It is less sensitive now and the direct pressure of my fingers plus the motion of the toy send ripples of delight undulating into my belly.

  Soon the pleasure overtakes me and my head starts to swim. I feel almost like I might lose consciousness. But I don’t stop, for I don’t want this feeling to end. I feel my stomach grow tighter as my thighs and buttocks grow taut in anticipation of the explosion. I feel pins and needles in my legs as all the blood rushes away from my extremities and into my middle. Everything gets tighter….and tighter……and tighter. My stomach, my thighs, my pussy….all squeezing, all bearing down. I can hear my own breath coming hard and short. And still everything pulls tighter as I near the peak.

  There is a millisecond of silence before the surge. Then, all at once, I am awash with the flood of orgasm. I feel so much pleasure and so much helplessness. I couldn’t stop this feeling if I tried. Each cascade of my orgasm is stronger than the last and with every wave of my cumming my body is convulsed harder and harder until I’m sure I must
be writhing uncontrollably. This does not embarrass me. Many a lover has told me they find me beautiful when I orgasm this strongly.

  As the rage of pleasure subsides, I feel like I am no longer bound to the earth. The warm Mediterranean air envelops me in her cocoon and, for a few minutes as my panting subsides and my hands lay to rest, I float somewhere between heaven and earth.

  Chapter 3

  ♦♦♦♦

  Dinner and Dessert

  Dinner at the chalet had been a sumptuous affair. The three of us now sat in the contented afterglow brought on by the food and wine and the soft, aphrodisiac night. My belly was warm with the mellow spice of dinner’s wine and desert’s cognac. I was drunk with the culinary prowess of the five-course meal, and on the kindness of the chalet’s keeper who had prepared and served the feast before whistling his way back into the night. While the serenade of the cicadas in the cool, long grass just over the veranda provided the soundtrack to our happiness.

  As if mellowed by the embrace of the warm maritime air, we made our conversation in muted voices. Our laughter was low and deep, rippling naturally from our unguarded inner depths. Those depths so delicate and so guarded in the cold and rain, so safe and closed that we lock them up and spit our laughter from behind our noses and out of our throats. We had taken a chance and shown each other all of our naked flesh and so much of our naked souls. We had been lucky. In taking that chance we had found beauty in each other’s bodies and in each other’s spirits.

  My two friends sat across from me. Their skin shone soft and smooth in the orange light of the evening. The sun had kissed brown his long, powerful arms and the smooth tops of her breasts. They sat close and very much at ease, their fingers interlocking, skin against skin, eyes clear and unafraid to adore the face of the other. Under the table their legs intertwined as she draped her firm, silky thighs over his lean, powerful legs.

  I did not feel jealousy. For jealousy only comes with dishonesty. I did not want what they had, what she had or what he had, exclusively, one without the other. I wanted inclusion into what they were, into their warmth, into their pleasure. And they seemed willing to invite me.

  “Are we making you uncomfortable?” she asked me suddenly, her eyes bright and wide with concern as she made to pull away from him.

  “There’s nothing to be uncomfortable about,” I told her as I reached out to stroke her hand.

  She believed me and nestled further into him.

  I meant what I said. There should be no anxiousness among us. For a moment, however, he looked sheepish. But he quickly recovered as he remembered that the staid and sour rules toward public displays of affection did not apply here.

  “So….what….” He teased. “You wouldn’t be embarrassed if I did….this?” Deftly he lowered the straps of her dress off her shoulders, and exposed her breasts by pulling the top of her dress down to her midriff.

  She hadn’t expected him to do it. She was surprised but not ashamed. She looked down with almost girlish bewilderment. As if she hadn’t expected to have her gaze met by her own bare, big, beautiful breasts.

  I laughed at his naivete. “We’ve all seen more then that! And she’s beautiful anyway. Why should any of us be embarrassed?”

  Slowly, casually she sought to recover her clothing.

  “Don’t do that,” I chided her gently. “It’s a warm night. We need fewer clothes. Not more.” And with that I peeled out of my own top and let the gentle breeze lick my bare, warm skin.

  “Now who’s out of sorts?” I asked him.

  He quickly tugged his way free of his own shirt.

  So there we sat, naked above the table, clothing still tingling against our flesh below. As I sat there, I began to consider the irrelevance of clothes in this heat. Until finally, my remaining clothes felt like little more than a chafing hindrance.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” I said as I stood up and wiggled out of my shorts and panties. I don’t think that either of my friends expected exactly that. Still, neither of them took their eyes off me.

  “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other before now, is it?” I teased them again.

  I felt now, as I had the days before, totally natural and at ease, as if the whole rest of the world were as gentle and beautiful as I felt. Without a stitch of clothing on, I walked round the table, stood behind her, and put my hands on her shoulders. Her bare shoulders were so soft and round and her skin radiated the warmth absorbed in the daytime sun.

  “Come on,” I said gently. “You have to play too,”

  She smiled at me over her shoulder as my hands wandered down to her torso and I eased her from her chair. When she stood, her dress fell away and I helped her out of her panties, sliding them down over her silky, curvaceous thighs.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this one,” I said, turning my attention to him. He knew I was teasing and not commanding. He knew I was playing like this because I felt so comfortable with him, and his hand went to his belt.

  “No,” she said suddenly. “Let me.”

  She pressed her bouncy little body hard up against him, unclasped his belt buckle and button, unzipped his shorts and pushed them to the floor. He stepped out of his fallen trousers as she ran her hands over him from top to bottom, taking his underwear with her as she descended. She stood up, pulled him toward her, and kissed him deeply and passionately.

  Honesty is a powerful aphrodisiac. As I watched them, pressed together so pure and so naked, unashamed and unwilling to hide their desire, I felt the first release as my lust too began to assert itself.

  I came up behind her and put my hands on her back. With just my fingertips, I traced lines down from her soft shoulders, over her shoulder blades, down to her strong, tight lower back and out over her pert, fleshy ass that sat out so round and proud.

  She moaned in soft appreciation as his tongue probed her mouth hungrily from the front while I caressed her more gently from behind. I wanted to feel her softness all over me. I moved forward and pressed the whole of my body up against hers. My breasts squeezed tighter against her firm back and my belly was flush with the curve of her spine. She quivered and giggled a bit and I knew she could feel the short, kinky down of my pussy riding against the creamy flesh of her buttocks.

  I held her close and kissed her ears and the back of her neck. “Do you mind if I touch you?” I asked her.

  She trembled slightly with pleasure and anticipation, as she sighed a languid, “No.”

  I drew my arms around her and embraced her. I felt the dense bristle of his trim man-bush against the backs of my hands and her tender belly against my palms. Her tummy was relaxed and made the slightest outward curve that felt delicious under my hands. As he held her tight from in front, his hands began to find my flesh. At first tentatively and respectfully, then more hungrily until he fairly embraced us both.

  “Turn round,” I said to her. “I want to….taste you.”

  She turned and looked deep into my eyes, as he took the position I had now vacated. For a split second her deep brown eyes formed a question as if seeing me somehow differently….or perhaps for the first time. That question passed, or was answered, wordlessly and she slipped her tongue into my mouth. Her kiss exploded into the back of my head like sugary sparks. Her slippery tongue and wet lips, so much smaller and more delicate than a man’s, enveloped my own. Now I was wet above and below. And, from the way she had kissed me, I was sure she was as well.

  “And the rest,” was all I said to her as our long drink of each other subsided into sips and nibbles.

  She didn’t seem to understand exactly what more I wanted to taste. So I traced my hand down between her breasts, over her belly, and onto her mound. I touched the table and told her to sit down and lay back.

  She balked for a moment and giggled. “But I…I’ve never….” she began.

  I held a finger to her lips
and guided her onto the table. She became supple and willing. He moved to take a seat at the table, fixing his eyes on the beautiful, naked girl before me. A girl who would have been a feast to anyone’s eyes.

  The table was at a perfect height and I sat down in front of her, parted her legs at the knees, and lowered my lips to her cunt. With only a twinge of apprehension she leant back and rested the finely curved arches of her feet on the arms of the chair. She smelled sweet—slightly of citrus, and of sun-kissed skin long in the heat, and musky like the intoxicating secrets of a woman.

  She jumped with sensitive surprise at the first touch of my lips. I teased her by nuzzling and licking her soft, plump inner thighs before covering her pussy with butterfly kisses.

  Almost protectively, he came up behind her and touched her cheek tenderly. She raised her heavy lidded eyes to his and he smiled. As he did so I felt her thighs relax as some of her tension ebbed away. He continued his caress of her skin. He was gentle and did not grapple her flesh as he fondled her breasts and stroked her neck and belly. With so much attention and so many sensations bombarding her at once, she wriggled happily under his touch and mine.