Mediterranean Idyll Ch. 03

The long, lazy days of our holiday drifted slowly by as we meandered down the coast, the blazing heat of midday sliding into warm starlit evenings, pleasantly cool nights and then a crisp new day to wake up to. We sailed most mornings, and by lunchtime would be anchored off one of the many beaches along the coast that had a scattering of sunbathers and a shack serving snacks and drinks, or we might tie up to a small jetty and go ashore for lunch in a coastal village. One time we unfolded the rubber dinghy from its stowage in one of the lockers, pumped it up and rowed round the end of a long sandy beach into a wilderness of tall reeds and then up a small river flowing gently down to the sea past Lycian tombs that had been carved into the rock half-way up the surrounding cliffs nearly two thousand years ago. More sailing in the afternoon and then we would check in the folder provided by the Club for their recommendations for an overnight stop.

Kate was an always willing, inventive and utterly delightful sexual partner, cool and well-behaved when we were in public and with no hang-ups at all when we were on our own. Over the midday period I always insisted that we both stay in some form of shade, as sitting in the open cockpit in the sun could easily lead to sunburn on shoulders, thighs and even the tops of our feet, but as the afternoons wore on she would delight me by going topless of her own accord and move into her favourite position, sitting back up against me between my legs so that I could nuzzle the back of her neck and caress her breasts with one hand while continuing to steer Vega with the other. We soon learned the best ways to turn each other on. She found a place underneath my ears where the soft pressure of her kiss and the exploration of her active tongue would turn me into a quivering wreck, and I discovered that her navel was extremely sensitive to circular movements of my fingers. We found that making love in the moonlight on a deserted sandy beach was much improved if we took a large beach towel with us to lay on, and that intercourse while floating in the sea sounded a lot more erotic in theory than it actually turned out to be in practice.

Half-way through the week we turned Vega round and started back up the coast towards Marmaris, and it was during this time that I was finally able to get my own back for the embarrassment I had suffered as a result of Kate's enjoyment of 'feminine empowerment'. Because of an absence of breeze one night the forward cabin was going to be so stuffy that we had taken the bedding up onto the flat fore-deck, made slow, languorous love and then gone to sleep beneath the stars. The following morning we woke up, still completely naked under the single sheet, with Kate snuggled up against me and asking what we were going to do that day. I told her that today was pay-back time, pushed her onto her back and climbed high up astride her waist, my rapidly hardening dick lying between her breasts and my knees across her arms, preventing them from moving. She grinned up at me and said I was welcome to try but I needn't expect to get anywhere.

The thin bow mooring line was coiled up just under the mattress, so I pulled it out, tied one end round one of her wrists, released her arm from under my knee and tied the wrist to a deck rail stanchion. And to my surprise she just lay there totally relaxed and let me do it! There was plenty of line left to reach across to the stanchion on the opposite side of the deck so I tied her other wrist to that one, and once again she remained completely submissive. I brought one of the mooring lines up from the stern, using it to pull her legs wide apart and secure them the same way, and then stood up to inspect my handiwork, enjoying the sight of gorgeous, desirable Kate spread out naked in the morning sun, securely tied down and completely at my mercy.

I went down into the saloon and brought back my camera and a towel, and when Kate saw the camera she begged me not to take any really indecent photos that might embarrass her later. I assured her that I had no intention of doing that, folded the towel several times lengthways and laid the narrow strip of material across the tops of her thighs to protect her decency. But only just! After taking some shots I stretched out beside her and started working on her breasts, first with my hands and then with my mouth, caressing and licking and sucking and then catching her nipples between my teeth and tongue till they stood erect, a purely reflex response by her body that she could do nothing about. My fingertips ran softly down to her belly-button and circled it a time or two, resulting in a little wriggle of her stomach and an intake of breath, and then continued down across the slight stubble of her shaved pussy and in between the lips of her labia under the towel. There was plenty of lubrication there for me to wet my fingers with and then I started drawing them very slowly up and down against her clitoris.

Now things were beginning to get interesting. I heard her breathe in sharply and felt her quiver on every upstroke, but apart from that she still seemed quite relaxed, her eyes shut and a small smile on her face. Then I had an idea, went back down into the saloon and came back with a part-used tub of yogurt from the coolbox. She opened her eyes and watched as I dropped a large blob of yogurt onto her navel and used it to lubricate the small depression with the tip of my finger. I was encouraged by getting more reaction from her now, making little soft noises deep in her throat and moving jerkily from side to side against the pressure of my finger, and then I bent down and started using my tongue through the yogurt and that did it. She gave a gasp, arched up and tried to twist away from me, but I cupped my hands round her hip-bones and pressed down with all my weight so that she couldn't move, and when I increased the activity of my tongue she started gabbling ohgod . . . ohgod . . . ohgod and then aaaaaahhh, and then she came.

I let her recover for a while and then told her that I was going to do it again, just to make sure that she understood who was the boss around here. My hands began to wander but she pleaded with me to come inside her as a reward for my success, well aware that it was an offer that I wasn't about to refuse. I started to untie her ankles but she told me not to release her but fuck her right there, while she was still tied up. Well, if she wanted to play the helpless captive maiden being ravished by the pirate captain I was all for it, but I have to admit that my pirate turned out to be more of a pussycat as in spite of her bonds she was able to wriggle around underneath me, her body, mouth and pussy responding to my lips and cock as enthusiastically as ever. When I finally released her she came back into my arms and told me that it had been soooo good for her, and I took it as a compliment that my efforts had resulted in two 'soooo goods' in just one week.

We were due to return to the marina on the Monday afternoon, in time to clean the yacht and check on the arrangements for our Tuesday departure. I had saved our last lunch for Turunc Buku, one of my favourite destinations from last year, a small inlet on the coast between Marmaris and Kumlu Buku, easily missed by boats cruising along the coast if you didn't know about it. There is a little bay with a ramshackle wooden jetty and a narrow path leading to a small restaurant perched half-way up the steep side of the enclosing coastline. A large sign describes it as the 'Yacht Club', the hoped-for impression of exclusivity rather spoilt by a slightly smaller sign saying that membership is not required to eat there. We sat on the terrace above the little bay with a couple of cold beers while our lunch was being prepared, looking down through the tangle of vine branches to Vega, tied up to a buoy below us in the brilliant sun. Kate said how beautiful it all was, and told me that she would be taking back a mental picture of the scene to last her through the cold winter in the UK.

After lunch we motored back up to the marina, checked the boat in with the Club and spent our last night exploring each others' bodies all over again, just as if they were all completely new to us. I detected a tear or two on Kate's cheek in the darkness and held her close, comforting her and suggesting that we meet up again back in England on my next leave, and see where our relationship went from there. She nodded against my chest without saying anything, and then there were more tears and more comforting and later a slow, delicious rise to a dream-like gentle climax for both of us.

Next day we took the long drive to Dalaman on the Club bus. At the airport Kate gave me one last hug and a soft kiss and as she disappeared into the departure hall my world suddenly seemed empty. A couple of hours later I boarded my flight to Alexandria, overnighted in the fleapit that passed for an airport hotel in those days, and the following day continued back to base on the morning Alex-Benghazi-Tripoli-Tunis flight. I gave my films to a friend who did developing and printing as a hobby - I didn't want some of my more intimate shots of Kate to be seen by assistants in the commercial outlets but hey, it's OK between friends - and went up to the office to see what they had scheduled for me.

Quite a lot as it turned out, and it was nearly three weeks before I got back in from the desert and picked up my colour prints. But before I could organise copies of the best ones to send to Kate a packet arrived for me, addressed in her immediately recognisable handwriting and with an American stamp on it. Inside were some of her prints, wrapped in a letter.

Dearest Jim

I have a confession to make, and since there is no way to do it tactfully I won't even try. I wasn't telling you the truth when I said that Chuck had dumped me. In fact he had been offered a transfer to his head office in the US, and he wanted to take me with him so that we could marry in his home town. The plan was for me to resign my job as soon as I got back from the flight to Tripoli and Alexandria, work out my notice and then join him in the US. That is what we have done, and we will be getting married in two weeks time.

Chuck has never been into sailing, and when your letter came to say that you were going to Marmaris I told him that I needed a final girly holiday before settling down to married life. When he heard that it would be a sailing one he said I was welcome to go, but hoped I wouldn't drag him along too. That suited me very well, of course, a dream holiday on a yacht in the sun with a great guy and, hopefully, a last chance of dealing with that 'unfinished business' of ours.

Dear Jim, I am telling the truth this time when I say that our week on Vega was all I hoped it would be. The only way I could prevent myself feeling like a fraud because of my deception was to give myself body and soul to you for a week to let you do whatever you wanted with me, and I enjoyed the giving more than I ever thought I would. I got the impression that you rather liked it too! I trusted you to treat me right and you did, giving me something that every girl should get from their guy, that feeling of being completely loved and desired and protected. Looking back I wouldn't change a single thing, and for the rest of my life I will remember everything you did with me and to me.

I hope you will not think too badly of me, and I am sure that one day you will make some lucky girl very happy indeed.

Kate xxx

There was no return address in the letter or on the envelope. I bought a suitable card to congratulate Kate on her marriage and posted it off to her flat in the UK, hoping that Ellen might still be living there and would forward it on. I never received a response.

PS: Readers may well wonder how I have been able to remember Kate's letter word for word after all these years. Well, I didn't need to rely on my memory at all as I still have the original in my photo album, together with a discrete selection of photos of Kate and I on Vega. And further back in my records I have a similar set of pix from my time with Jenn. Luckily I have a wife who has always said that what the two of us got up to while we were both still single, footloose and fancy free was long ago and far away, water under the bridge, and our adventures during our single days simply helped to shape us into the two young people who finally met, fell in love and married in Tripoli, two years after my return from Marmaris.