Harry’s Island Initiation

Literotic asexstories – Harry’s Island Initiation by Rex Siter,Rex Siter
My athletic ability should never have been the bane of my life. Running freed my spirit, gave me a sense of power as I drove myself to greater speeds. I was fourteen when I discovered that I could cover 80 metres faster than other boys in my school. At 15 I was area champion at 100 metres.

Passing years have revealed that there are mothers who need to control, or rather direct, any sign of ability their child may have. A seemingly laudable fact. ‘Talent needs to be nurtured’; ‘Too young to know what’s best for them.” So it was that, by the time I was fifteen, my mother had taken charge, and the restrictions on my life began.

“No late nights. No smoking. No drinking. Girls will hold you back. Believe me, I only want the best for you. You’ll be twenty one when the 1956 Olympics start. We’ll have you in perfect condition by then,” she declared. She set me up with a personal trainer, but supervised everything he did.

My father, a success in his own air conditioning business, was sympathetic. “I’d like to see him do well, Greta. But the lad needs a life.”

“He’ll have a life,” my mother would reply,” but it will be a successful one.”

My father would shrug hopelessly in my direction. Successful and positive as he was in his business world, he always relented in the face of my mother’s determination.

So the activity I loved became a hindrance in so many ways. No late nights naturally precluded much activity with girls. My mother was constantly warning me how physical contact with the opposite sex would interfere with my progress.

By the time I was seventeen my experience with girls had been limited to remote, flat kisses, a fumble around the breast area before my hand was knocked away. Remember, this was decades ago, when most girls believed they should keep it until they were married.

At least that’s what I thought. But hearing my school mates talk of their experiences you would have thought we lived in an age of rampant nymphos. Much of their boasting was empty wishful thinking, I told myself, but wondered how they could know so much. Just reading about it, I hoped, but hating the idea of being left behind.

Anyway, it left me wondering, as I approached my eighteenth year, just how I would ever be able to react in an intimate situation with a girl. I would be starting university at the end of Summer and was beginning to see it as a gateway of escape from my mother’s oppression. Not that I didn’t appreciate her intentions for me. Being an Olympic athlete was an appealing goal, but her methods were just way over the top.

Such was her involvement that I was sure that many of my High School colleagues saw me as a ‘Mummy’s boy’. It seemed to me that soon I had to take some kind of stance.

Then she came up with what was to be a life changing arrangement.

She had that pleased-with-herself look on her face as she announced, “I’ve booked us a lovely holiday for your eighteenth birthday, Harry. Three weeks on a quiet Greek island. You can keep up your training, read some of your study books, and your father needs a quiet break from the stress of his work.”

All my friends were going off to Summer camps, or touring together. And I was going on holiday with my parents. Mother’s boy, indeed.

“Do we have to?” I asked plaintively.

“It’s all booked. You’re going to love it.”

If only she knew just how true her words would be.

The island of Agistri was only a short ferry ride from Piraeus, the port for Athens. A jewel in an azure sea, the brochure said. For me it appeared to be a disguised Alcatraz, only just over two miles wide at its narrowest point.

It has changed much over the years, but at that time Agistri boasted one small hotel and a couple of tavernas, alongside scattered cottages of residents, mostly fishing folk.

It turned out that my room in the hotel was on the ground floor, whereas my parents were on the first floor. I immediately saw some advantages in that. Although I couldn’t tell myself what they were.

My mother had called it a quiet island and the significance of that was immediately apparent. It seemed that most of the other hotel guests were there for the peace and quiet of their twilight years. Out on the street I saw l one or two back-packing couples, who might be island hopping or who, over the subsequent years, would become hippie folk.

My mother quickly showed me the sandy beach just down from the hotel. A stretch of almost white soft sand, with the landward side shielded by clumps of shrubbery, with the occasionally vivid red of bougainvillea.

“This is where you can run, Harry. A good stretch for three quarter pace and the occasional fast burst.”

I felt like being awkward, “There’s no tide, so it’s all soft sand—speed won’t be much.”

“Running the soft sand will help strengthen your legs,” she smiled that smile of extra wisdom,” and if you run just on the very edge of the sea you’ll find it firmer—and nice and splashy.”

“What about the heat?” I persisted with my negatives..

“Oh, early in the morning, of course, before the sun gets too high.”

So the routine began. The next morning, which happened to be my birthday, I was out just after eight, barefooted, and wearing only a pair of shorts. As soon as I began running, I felt that old exhilaration, that sense of power. Striding over the soft sand required more effort, and I did a three quarter rate the length of the beach, which I estimated was about three quarters of a mile.

On the way back I attempted a few faster bursts, splashing through the edge of the transparent sea. By the time I’d finished I was coated in sweat, and was happy to plunge into the warm balm of the water.

That evening it was surprising to find that the food in the hotel restaurant was first class. Afterwards, because there was nothing else to do other than perhaps take a walk, I succumbed to my mother’s pleas to join her and my father in the small bar area. “To get your present,” she said with an excited smile.

There were comfortable booths around the main area with maroon leather sofas and seats. A handful of other people were scattered about the room, and piped music, low, gentle issued over the whole scene.

My father ordered a Greek beer for himself, a Bacardi and coke for my mother, and, with an apologetic glance at me, an orange juice.

With an excited smile my mother placed a small gift wrapped package on the table. “Happy birthday, son,” she said, rather huskily, and as I reached for it she added, “but before you open it—–” And she raised her hand in the air.

Immediately the piped music changed to the tune of ‘Happy Birthday’, and the hotel manager appeared carrying a decorated cake complete with burning candles. My mother began to sing, my father joined in in his growling tones and as others turned their heads they joined in too.

I so wanted to feel grateful, yet I couldn’t avoid the sense that I was being treated like a nine year old. The song ended and there was a little patter of applause as I dutifully blew out the candles.

I opened the package and found a very presentable gold watch. “It has a stop watch in it.” My mother said. I wasn’t surprised. But it was a fine looking watch and I warmly expressed my gratitude.

After a few minutes, I excused myself to visit the toilet, which took me past the bar, where only one person was sitting. A lady with long dark hair down her back, over a sleeveless turquoise dress. Briefly my mind registered the curve of her waist to hip.

As I was on my way back, she turned in her seat and her dark eyes watched my approach. The dress was cut low enough to give a hint of a gently sloping bosom. Her wide mouth smiled as I was about to pass.

“Happy birthday,” she said quietly. There was a warmth about her that I couldn’t define.

I muttered my thanks and was about to move on, uncertain how to say more.

“You’re twenty first?”

I stopped, feeling my face redden, ” Eighteenth.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Really? You look more mature—and an athlete.”

I just stood, wanting to ask how she knew that, but was lost in her interest.

She laughed, “I saw you this morning. Very impressive.”

She saw me? How could she do that? I was sure I had the beach to myself. More importantly, why should she notice enough to comment. My mind whirled.

“Might I buy you a drink—to mark your birthday.”

I glanced towards the booth where I saw my mother watching, her eyes narrowed, ” I don’t—can’t–”

She followed my glance and said simply, “Oh, I see. Well, have a good night.”

Totally abashed by a sense of inadequacy I returned to our table.

“What was that woman saying to you?”

“Just happy birthday.”

“Watch yourself with women like that.”

“Or just watch her move,” my father chuckled. The woman had slid from the bar stool and was swaying towards a side door. Her whole body undulated sensuously. “Oh, yes.”

“Raymond!” my mother hissed.

But I was grateful to my father for breaking the tension.

The next morning I was out and running, with the sun low over my shoulder, already warming. The idea of coming out earlier had crossed my mind, but had no appeal.

As ever, the freedom of running lifted my spirits and on my return I really turned it on as I splashed on the water’s edge. Breathing heavily I eased back at a point where the shrubs grew closer to the sea, narrowing the beach at that point. There wasn’t another soul in view.

“Very impressive,” the gentle call, followed by the clapping of hands startled me. I looked towards the shrubs, and immediately saw her, almost hidden, seated in a gap between two bougainvillea, close enough for me to recognise her immediately. The dark hair tied back, the open smiling face, and, my heart skipped at the illusion, only bare skin visible, as she sat on a blanket with her arms wrapped around her knees.

I hesitated, fearing the embarrassment of her being naked. She laughed and called, “Have you been warned off me?”

She leaned back and I could see that she was actually wearing a brief blue bikini, and her words told me that my worst fears were confirmed. She knew I was dominated by my mother!

The thought filled me with determination to crush such conclusions. I moved towards her, intending it to be a purposeful stride, but the softer sand higher up the beach, made it more of a clumsy stagger, as I neared her.

“Hello,” I said, seeking sensible words to say. “Up ahead of the sun?”

“Early sun is safer, I’ll move out into the open shortly for a brief while.”

She looked up at me appraisingly, her eyes moving slowly from my knees up over my shorts, where they lingered briefly, or did I imagine that? Then up over my chest until she was gazing into my face.

I looked down at her tanned skin, the smooth curve of her shoulders, the subtle rise of small breasts before they disappeared, just, into the bikini top. The enticing cleft between them held my eyes for a second or two, before I moved down to the crease her seated position made in her flat belly.

“Good body,” she murmured, her head nodding.

Sure is, was on my lips before I realised she was talking about me.

“Very athletic,” she went on. Then, her brown eyes taking on a mischievous gleam, she added, “Like what you see?”

Flip, confident answers flooded into my head. But they weren’t my answers. I could only stand there, face burning, words failing to form on my lips. I became aware that my head was nodding inanely. To cover that I finally came up with the dumbest of responses, waving my arms wide, “Sand, sea and everything. Yes.”

Her face showed a measure of understanding as she came up onto her knees and moved across the blanket. “Not very comfortable with the opposite sex, are you? No girl friends?”

Again a pack of boasting lies were anxious to be given a voice, but after my mute reactions so far I knew they were pointless. I just shook my head.

“Come on,” she said kindly, “you look so uncomfortable standing there. Is that the effect I have on you? Sit down here beside me.”

Worriedly, I looked back along the beach, half expecting to see my mother in full battle cry coming towards us. The beach was empty.

As I sank hesitantly to my knees she asked, “Is it your parents you’re with?”

“Afraid so,” I said fervently, glad that I was able to find my voice.

“How long are you staying?”

I told her three weeks, at which she gave a little nod before asking,

“You didn’t answer my earlier question. Were you warned off me?”

I took a deep breath, “I’ve been warned off all females.” Not strictly true, but near enough the mark.

“Why, for goodness sake?”

I looked into her open, sympathetic face, and, like a released dam, I was suddenly pouring out the whole background to my restricted situation, ending with the prospect of getting away to university.

She pursed her full lips and looked deep in thought before saying, “An Olympic prospect? I suppose it’s a laudable goal—but really–so many barriers on your life. It can’t be good.”

I shrugged and stared out over the clear turquoise sea, lapping gently onto the beach. A ferry boat approached. “Are you on holiday?” I asked.

“Yes and no.”

I looked around at her. She was leaning back taking the weight on her elbows, a pose that showed off the whole angular perfection of her body. It was an effort to keep my eyes focussed on her face, pleasing though that was. How old would she be? Although I wasn’t good at that sort of guessing, I reckoned early thirties.

“I have a summer place over on Aegina,” she explained, nodding out across the water. “Only twenty minutes away. Gets a bit hectic this time of year. So I come here for the peace and quiet, when the mood takes me. I keep a little room at the rear of the Risla taverna.”

I glanced at my watch, and started to rise, “I’d better be getting back.”

“A pity,” she said with a friendly smile. “See you tomorrow perhaps.”

“Yes,” I said, and added bravely, “I’ll look forward to it.”

She laughed, and I gave her a wave as a hurried away.

Next morning, I was out and running a little earlier, my hands clenching as I neared the two bougainvillea. I lowered my pace, but my heart sank when I saw that the gap was empty.

I speeded up in exasperation. Since the previous morning I had been unable to get her out of my mind. The lean tanned look of her, her kindly open face, the warmth of her interest. The disappointment of her not being there drove me into a wild attempt at a sprint to the end of the beach. So vigorous was my effort over the clinging sand that I was glad to make my way back at only a steady jog.

Hell, I don’t know why I should feel so upset. What was I expecting here? She was way out of my time zone and obviously fairly well off. Yet she had shown a willingness to talk. And that was something new in my experience.

Approaching the gap in the shrubs, I held my breath, and then released it in a relieved sigh. There she was, sitting in the same arms-around-knees pose as yesterday, and now she waved cheerily. I swerved up the beach.

“You were early this morning,” she said with a smile, and shuffled across the blanket. “Come on. Sit down, you look like you’ve overdone it.”

Sitting beside her and without thinking I said, “I thought you weren’t here.”

Her eyes held mine, “Would it have mattered?”

I felt the blood rush into my face and I looked out to the sea.

“You know I don’t even know your name.”

I told her.

“Well, Harry. I’m Laura. Pleased to meet you.” And with a little chuckle she held out her hand. I gave her mine. Her fingers were surprisingly cool, and was that just a little squeeze before she released? I gave her what I hoped was a positive smile.

“How was your day yesterday?” she asked.

I told her how my father and mother declared that the afternoons were too hot to be out and about. “So I just wandered around the village here. Saw your tavern.”

“Were you looking for me?” her voice took on a teasing tone.

“No, no, it was just chance.” I had hoped to see her. “Then I did some reading.”

“I like reading–anything I’d know?”

“Stuff for university.”

“So a pretty boring day?”

“That sums it up.”

She sat up straight and looked at me directly, “Well, Harry, have you seen much of the island?”

“Just around here.”

“Well, this afternoon would you let me show you the shortest way to the other side of the island? About a two mile walk, testing in the heat but the pine trees afford good shade.”

She was actually asking me to walk with her. The very thought of that made my breath quicken, but then breathing became really difficult at her next request.

She reached behind her and produced a lotion bottle, “I know you’ll be rushing away, but before you go would you rub a little cream onto my back.” Her eyes studied the expression on my face. “Please. I did my front yesterday—the sun can kiss my back today.” Her eyes held mine, “Is that all right?” She handed me the bottle and turned to lie flat on her stomach, legs slightly spread. Wonderfully proportioned thighs, was the thought that popped into my turbulent mind.

“Not too thick,” she said, and then leaned back. “Oh, just a minute.” And she reached behind her to undo her bikini top. “No strap marks.”

Trembling slightly, I opened the bottle and poured a little of the cream onto my hand. Tentatively I leaned over her and stroked at an area just below her shoulders, letting my circling hand flow over the top curve.

She had flinched at the initial chill, but now she said, “Oh, nice touch, Harry. So gentle.”

The smoothness of her skin under my fingertips sent fiery tingles coursing through my body. As my hand moved down in ever diminishing circles I was sure she gave a little shiver. Of pleasure? I hoped so.

For me the fire had reached my groin and I was terribly aware of the pressure mounting against my shorts.

As I neared the end, my fingers passed along the top edge of her bikini bottoms, and I saw, and felt, the slight indentation of the beginning of her anal cleft. How could that be so erotic? Added pressure in my groin.

From her prone position she said, rather huskily, “That was so good of you, Harry. Just one more request. Could you fasten up my top for me?

This was an added intimacy. Would I make an idiot of myself? I reached across to retrieve one end, pulled them together and was relieved to find a simple hooking system, which I managed despite the trembling in my hands.

She rolled over, sat up and handed me a small towel, “Thanks for that. It wasn’t too bad was it? Just wipe your hands dry.”

We made quick arrangements to meet behind the village chapel at half past one. “That’s where the easiest trail starts,” she said, as I stood up. “Wear something you can swim in—we can cool off across there.”

Instantly I was aware of her looking at my shorts, and I had to resist an impulse to place my hand over the tell-tale bulge. But she just gave a little smile as I turned away and she said, “Better walk back fairly slowly.”

Feeling like the most callow of youths, I did walk slowly over the sand. But, at least, a pleasant afternoon beckoned. I just could not come to terms with her wanting to give her time to me, and all I hoped for was that I could appear more mature than I had so far.

Over lunch my mother wanted to know how I intended to spend my afternoon.

“Chasing the local beauties,” my father joked, winking at me. “Might be a hard search, eh, Harry?”

“Oh, stop that, Raymond.”

“Like yesterday,” I sighed. “Exploring.”

“Well, watch that hot sun—wear a shirt.”

“I might keep among the pines—good shade.”

“That sounds sensible,” she agreed.

If I’d added, ‘with a sensuous woman,’ she might have had a heart attack.

One twenty five, and I was seated on steps at the side of the chapel, my eyes fixed on the lane below. Luckily, the steps were in the shade. The sun was high and the heat intense. I wore an open shirt and shorts that would double up as swimming trunks.

After just a couple of minutes, Laura appeared in the lane. She sashayed along, swinging a small canvas bag. She wore white shorts that emphasised her tanned thighs, a thin white blouse hung open revealing a green bikini top. On her head she wore a wide brimmed straw sun hat, which suited her perfectly.

She greeted me with a smile that rivalled the sun. The sun only heated me outside. Her smile beamed its way right through me.

“I like a good time keeper,” she said cheerily.” Come on. The trail starts back here.”

“Can I carry the bag for you?” I asked, determined to be more than that callow youth of the morning.

“Ah, a true gentleman,” she said with a smile. “It’s only a towel and a bottle of water. You’ll find we’ll need that.” But she handed me the bag.

The trail was deliberately laid with what looked like broken slate. We walked side by side in the open sun and I was thinking that two miles was going to be pretty wearing. Then we came to a slight bend and although it wasn’t much the pines to our right presented a border of shade.

“Small cover,” Laura said, and moved towards it. “But very welcome” She touched my arm to direct me to follow.

The shade did help and as we walked Laura told me more about herself. How she’d been a journalist who’d married at twenty three.

“He was a successful property developer, fourteen years older than me. A kindly respectful husband.”

She went on about how he’d fallen victim to a muscle wasting disease that also affect his brain.

“A terrible time. It was a release for him when he died five years ago.”

Not sure how to react to the haunted look that had come across her face, I could only say, “I’m sorry.”

“A terrible time,” she repeated. “But he left me well provided for. The place on Aegina is part of it. A large house in Surrey, I sold and bought a flat near London.”

She suddenly placed a hand on my arm as we walked, “It’s good to have a little companionship now.” Her face turned to look up at me and looked so vulnerable that I had a wild urge to kiss her. Such an urge took me by surprise, and I drew in a deep breath and told myself to be content with the positive feel of her hand on my arm.

In spite of the half shade it was still extremely hot, and, after just a few more minutes, Laura said, “We’re just over halfway there. Time for a rest and some water.”

She guided me between the trees. The deeper shade was most welcome and we found a mound covered in pine needles to sit on. Laura took the bag from me and produced a large plastic bottle. She unscrewed the top and handed the bottle to me. “No, you first.”

“And gallantry too,” she said admiringly, touching my arm, before taking a good hearty drink from the bottle. I watched fascinated by the stretch and pulsing of her elegant throat.

After I had taken my refreshing drink, Laura stowed the bottle away before turning to me, her eyes shining in the gloom. “You know what I like about you, Harry?”

The question took me totally by surprise. My own thoughts had been dwelling on how cosy it was to be enclosed among the pines with this lovely lady. But all I could do was blush and shake my head at the question.

“Exactly that,” she went on, “That shyness. Your uncertainty with the opposite sex. So many men I’ve met, some as young as you, try to be so cool, so brazen, as though they are doing me a great favour with their attentions. Not that I mind being flattered occasionally.”

She reached out a slender hand and touched my chest, “But you may find that too much shyness can become an impediment. So to help you reach out of that state would you care to kiss an older woman.”

Her words were stunning, her hand on my chest was an electrode. I didn’t have to think. Couldn’t think. I simply leaned forward to meet her offered lips.

That moment. Like breaking through ice into warmer climes. But the intensity increased as the tip of her tongue teased along my closed lips. Resistance had no place in my mind at that moment. Blood pounded in my head as I was amazed to find, within seconds, my lips parted, and her tongue went on a search for mine.

Instinct? I don’t know but, within seconds, our two tongues were entwined like playful puppies. The tingling in my cheeks seemed to spread like a fireball. My arms went around her, and my hands caressed the bare perspiring skin under her blouse. There was a strong desire for my hands to wander where they might, but I just managed to resist that. My uncertain brain pondered the risk.

Laura’s hand had moved from my chest down to my belly. Any further and she would encounter my pounding, erect penis, which already felt set to discharge. Fearing what might happen then, in my weakened state, I broke our embrace.

Laura studied my face. Her eyes had a clouded look. Her lips remained parted, emphasising her sensuality. “I think you’re right,” she said. “But I have to tell you that I found that very pleasant—no—exciting. You may have the good fortune to be a fast learner.”

I was still trying to control my hammering heart, finding the words I wanted to say ” It was –you were—” The trite word ‘super’ was my intention but what came out was, “—a good teacher.”

“Would you like me to be the one to extend your education?” Her eyes never left my face as I played with the idea of her intoxicating offer. Did she mean—everything?

“Am I not too young for the likes of you?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought that was the case.” she said, and climbed to her feet.

“You really don’t mind?” I said, standing up alongside her. “I’m such a—”

“Would you stop belittling yourself? Anyway, this isn’t the right environment for such activity. Come on, let’s walk.”

It didn’t to take long to reach the coast. The beach was more pebbly here. We were so hot that we stripped off our outerwear and plunged into the refreshing balm of the sea, where we splashed, laughed and I watched her elegant front crawl.

At one point she dived beneath the surface, her black hair streaming out behind her. I could see her clearly coming at me like some beautiful sea mermaid. Her hands clutched at my shorts but they didn’t budge, and she came up close to me, laughing and spluttering. “A pity,” she chuckled, as we stood there toe-to-toe, her breasts pressed against my chest. Another moment for me to savour.

Walking back in the afternoon heat she told me that she was going across to Aegina on the following day, and seeing the disappointment on my face she said, “Do you think you could come across?”

” I would like to try.” But I had severe doubts.

“I tell you what if you could catch the half past ten ferry, I would be on the dock to meet you.”

“But if I can’t make it?”

“That won’t be too much bother–I’ll be disappointed, but we’ve got time.”

Behind the chapel we parted with a brief, but warm kiss.

How could I be this lucky? As I walked back to the hotel, further doubts assailed me. Whenever this education started, how much of a fool could I make of myself? The kiss had been terrific, and during it I had been filled with troubling impulses. But would I know how to direct those impulses satisfactorily? I just feared being a complete geek. Didn’t I have faith in Laura to be the perfect teacher. From the way she’d talked she had experience of what men were like.

Flooded with those doubts I had to tell myself that my biggest obstacle in all of this was inside my own head!

At dinner I glibly informed my parents about how much I’d enjoyed my swim and walk in the pines—expurgated version.

Then my mother dropped the bombshell, “Good. I thought tomorrow we could take the ferry back and spend a day in Athens.”

I felt my whole insides sag.

“You’ll like that won’t you, dear?”

But mother, I’ve got the chance to lose my virginity. Of course, that’s not what I said.

That night I lay awake reliving that kiss and the feel of Laura’s body pressed against me while we were in the sea. When I slept I dreamed that I discovered I was the perfect lover, and Laura was kissing me in gratitude.

Next morning I prepared for a trying day in the heat of Athens, but when I returned from my early run my father met me in the foyer.

“I’m afraid the trips off, son. Your mother’s had a terrible night. Something she’s eaten, seems to be getting its own back. I’ve had to call the doctor.”

When I should have been feeling sorry for my mother, elation was lifting my spirits on high. I went up to her room where she sat, very pale , and drawn.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, son. We’ll do it another day. The doctor says I must rest.”

I told her that I didn’t mind and that I hoped she was soon better. Then I galloped downstairs to find my father.

“Dad, would it be okay to take the ferry across to have a look at Aegina?”

My father only paused for a second, “I don’t see why not. I’d better stay near your mother though.”

My luck had changed. I quickly showered, put on my best briefs, belted shorts, a button up cotton shirt, and I was on the ferry landing by ten twenty five.

It was another steaming hot day and I stayed in the shade of an awning as the ferry shuttled its way across the clear sea.

As Aegina loomed green, dotted with white villas, doubts set in again. The main one—would she be there?

In fact she was the first person I saw as I stepped ashore. Too inexperienced, too young to know what love was, but just what sent that warm glow flooding through me at the sight of her standing there, clapping her hands to register how glad she was to see me. Her night black hair formed a loose frame around her smiling face, and, again, she wore a pure white blouse with blue shorts. Just stunning.

She held out both hands to me as I reached her, and clasped mine fervently. “I’m so relieved you could make it.”

I told her the circumstances, and she shrugged, “I’m sorry. But one person’s loss is another’s gain. This way.”

She took my hand and led me across the buzzing harbour to a row of parked cars. There were a number of flashy models but she stopped at a dark green Mini. “Good enough to gad about the island,” she said, as I climbed into the passenger seat. It was like stepping into an oven, and Laura leaned across me and lowered my window.

She started the engine and asked, “Which do you want to see first? The island or my place.”

I didn’t know how to answer that one, “Whichever you think best.”

“My place,” she said emphatically.

She drove with an easy determination through the traffic. Then the road opened out along the coast. Every so often on the landward side there were gaps in the pine and shrub border to reveal the forecourt of white buildings.

“Not far,” Laura said, and within minutes she turned right onto a wide forecourt in front of a three story building with a line of balconies on each level..

“Here we are,” she said, as she parked alongside a large open convertible.

She jumped eagerly out of the car and came round to grab my hand and led me to a large glass door. There was a keypad on the left and she deftly typed in a series of numbers. The door opened and we were in a tidy foyer with a staircase to the left.

“We need the lift,” Laura said, and went to the sliding doors at the rear. One press and the doors opened. The lift movement was surprisingly swift and we exited on the third floor passage.

“Last door on the left ,” she said, and squeezed my hand.

At the door she inserted a card and the door opened.

Inside it was mercifully cool after the heat of outside and particularly the car. We were in a large living area decorated and furnished in chrome and pastel blues. To the left a wide arch revealed an impressive looking kitchen area. In the rear right hand corner stood a white desk with a portable typewriter on it. On that side were three doors.

But what took my attention were the double glass doors ahead of us, and beyond, a wide balcony area. The doors were open and Laura led the way there to savour the view across a turquoise sea.

“Pity there’s a heat haze but that grey dot over there is Agistri.” she pointed out.

She quickly produced two iced teas from the kitchen. It was perfection to be seated there drinking the cooling tea, while drinking in the vision of Laura.

“You like my place?” she asked keenly. I told her how impressed I was, and part of my answer included her appearance. Once again I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Laura in this situation seemed so light-hearted , almost girlish. For the first time I felt it didn’t matter how old she was —for me at that moment— she was ageless.

“And now?” Her voice, briefly husky, broke into my thoughts. She stood up and came around the table.

“A brief kiss?” she suggested.

I was quickly on my feet. I had worried about my heated state, aware of how the sweat had been running down my chest. I moved into her arms and we kissed, tenderly at first, but more ravenously as our tongues entwined. She pressed herself against me grinding her hips over my rising erection.

Suddenly she pulled away, “Would you mind a delay while I take a shower? I got all sweated up waiting at the harbour.”

I told her of how coincidental her intentions were.

She smiled and snuggled against me, “Well, since this is an early stage, we’ll do this separately. That first door is the general bathroom. I have an en suite in my bedroom.”

She led me to the first door and flung it open to reveal an elegantly tiled bathroom with a large double bath in one corner, a toilet and bidet, and on the right hand side a large shower cubicle. “Towels on the shelf there and you’ll find a towel robe behind the door when you’re finished.”.

A towel robe? My mind began to bubble with expectation. I’d be naked underneath. Obviously I’d never been naked with any female. Breathing became a problem from that moment.

She gave me a quick kiss and whispered, “Don’t cool off too much.”

Showering was a joy, warm then icy and refreshing, but my thoughts continued to run wild. Now it begins. It was going to happen. It was near. I had to prove myself, hadn’t I? Had to be strong.

I dried myself on a voluminous bath towel before donning the robe, and walked slowly to her bedroom door. All the way, my mind filled up with the anticipations and fears of what lay ahead. What would her naked body be like? Where to touch? But she was the teacher, wasn’t she?

By the time I reached her door, my erection was already pressing against the towelling. I knocked lightly on the door.

“Oh, just come in,” she called. “Don’t stand on ceremony”

She had been sitting on a pink covered bed, dressed in an identical robe. She stood up as I entered and held out her arms. I moved quickly into a passionate kiss. The sweet aroma of jasmine filled my head. Even through the robes she must have been aware of my erection. My scrotum felt set to explode. God, I couldn’t let that happen.

Even as that thought arose she stepped back and smiled lasciviously, “One step at a time.” And instantly shrugged out of her robe. I gulped. There she stood, totally naked in front of me. Smooth shoulders, breasts, small but temptingly rounded and dark tipped, and subtle curve from waist to hip and that dark, dark triangle—the mystery point.

“You like what you see?” she asked. Oh, that was a delightfully sexy huskiness in her voice.

This time I had a suitable answer to that question. I let the words burst out before I lost them, “You’re absolutely stunning, amazing—Oh, God, breathtaking.”

She smiled and stepped towards me, “Good. Kind words can be as important as touch. Never forget that.”

Even as she spoke she reached out and pulled the cord holding my robe. Before I could react, she had reached up to my shoulders and pushed the robe off completely.

I crouched forward in involuntary nervous reaction and she touched my face and said, “No embarrassment. Best to get you over that hump quickly.” Without looking at what she revealed, she drew close to me and my erection pressed against her bare belly as we kissed. Her tongue meshed wetly with mine and I experienced all the stimulation I’d felt during our first kiss, only now my pulsating penis was rubbing across her belly as she swayed against me. So increasing my tension.

She broke away, and smoky eyes stared into mine. “You’re all tense and overexcited. All pressure that I’ve invoked in you—–The bed.”

And she guided me so that we were seated and very quickly, lying on the silken cover, side by side.

“This may seem rushed—but you need this. I want you inside me straight away. No lead-ins. You need to know I’m moist enough—and God knows you’re hard enough. Refinement can come later. Feel between my legs.”

What? Touch her there. So soon? I hadn’t even touched her breasts. My hand trembled as I move it across her thigh, but she quickly grabbed it and placed it into hot, hairy moisture. I just didn’t know what to do, but she immediately took my hand away, “That’s what you aim for with a woman. Know she’s good and moist—and ready.”

Without even doing anything else I was panting, my heart was hammering and my scrotum seemed to swell.

Laura parted her thighs further, “Right, Harry. Lie yourself between my legs.” She sounded a little short of breath herself.

Clumsily, I did as I was told, my whole lower body making me worried about moving too fast. So close now. I was going to do it. What I had dreamed about.

Then as I was about to lower myself, Laura reached down and placed her hand around my erection, and pulled it gently to guide it into her centre. But her fingers made subtle fluttering motions around my organ even while she directed it. And that was one move too many for my body in its hypersensitive state. Like moving the support from some fragile dam, my straining scrotum released its load. A flood roared through my penis, and before Laura could guide me to her nest, I was spurting, spurting and spurting.

I groaned with the relief, with the disappointment, with the shame of it. I heard Laura murmur, “Oh, dear.”

I slumped to her side, wanting to bury my head in the covers, but couldn’t avoid seeing the great globule of my cream stark on her black triangle. And there were strings of it up her inside thighs and across her belly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” There seemed nothing else to say.

Laura sat up, viewed her soiled body, and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder,”Don’t be. It was partly my fault. I knew the tense arousal of your first time needed to be overcome. That’s why I rushed to get you inside me.”

She was being so understanding, but my mind wouldn’t settle. The very scenario I had feared. So appealing, the idea of being naked on a bed alongside a totally naked female. Yet here I was shrunken and sick with myself.

Laura hauled herself off the bed, “I’ll need to get myself cleaned up. And please remember—major rule–never get yourself pent up in anticipation of sexual contact. Rule two–don’t dwell on failure.”

I watched her elegant figure as she glided to the ensuite. And, while enraptured by it, I was sickened that I had soiled that lovely body.

At the door she turned back and gave me a wink, “Here endeth the first lesson.” Then she was gone, and I heard the swish of a shower.

I lay wrapped in my own dead misery, occasionally glaring at my traitorous limp penis. Would there be a second lesson? Would she be willing to have me back for it?

In just a few minutes she was back, a silken peach coloured robe loosely tied, so that with each step her full thigh showed through, with just a hint of black shadow at the top. Totally erotic. But was I past enjoying that?

“Oh, you look so glum,” she said, coming to where I sat on the edge of the bed, and her fingers ruffled though my hair. “Look, go and get youself another shower. Wash away those blues. We’ll have some fruit when you come back.”

The shower in her ensuite was smaller but I did feel better after it. I dried myself on a large towel and realised that I no longer had the robe. Rather than go back stark naked, I fastened the towel around my waist.

When I emerged, Laura was seated .out on the balcony and there was a large bowl of fruit stood on the table.

She eyed me with kindly admiration, “Now you do look like a Greek god.”

I sat down opposite her and found the inspiration to reply, “Then you must be Aphrodite.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Now, help yourself to whatever you want here.”

The bowl held bananas, grapes apples oranges and peaches. Laura had picked up a banana and was carefully peeling it. The peaches looked delicious, so that was my choice.

I watched, fascinated, as Laura raised the banana to her lips, and, with her eyes on me, her mouth enveloped the tip of the white flesh of the fruit. If she had been looking casually out to sea as she ate, I may not have noticed. It was the question there in her eyes as she looked directly at me.

I bit deep into the peach, surprised as the juice spurted over my lips. Hungrily, I licked at the soft, oozing flesh. Our eyes met across the table, and she was nodding her head appreciatively.

“Fascinating,” she said.

With the fruit out of the way, Laura stood up. Her robe had come undone and there was a tantalising glimpse of her body. I rose from my chair and she stepped in close, her fingers just touching my waist above the towel.

“So we move to the next stage,” Laura whispered in my ear.

“When?” I asked, but even as I asked I could feel the familiar, if unexpected, stirring in my groin.

“How about now?” she said, flicking her shoulders so the gown fell away, and at the same time she tugged at my towel.

“I don’t know if—-”

She held a finger to my lips, “You’ll be up for it.”

She sank slowly to her knees, and gently took my already rising penis in her fingers and guided it to her mouth.

The very fact of her action made me jerk, and then gasp as her tongue ran along the vein on the underside of my penis, tickled at my scrotum.

She looked up at me, “Good?”

Amazed, and slightly shocked, at her actions. I had never thought of a woman actually kissing me there. Now she slowly stood up and smiled at me.

“Enough of that kind of treatment for now,” she said, taking my hand and leading me to the bed. “I wanted to prove that you are ready, but I’m wary of over exciting you too quickly.”

“It was very exciting. I didn’t know –” I said , as we settled on the bed.

“It gets better,” she said, but then she sat up and leaned over me. “Now, all of this is best when it’s natural. But you can be classed as a beginner. Right?”

“Definitely,” I said fervently.

She laughed, “So this round might seem very clinical. There are so many variations that only time can develop. For now let’s just say we’re preparing you for all those young ladies you’re going to encounter when you get to University. We’ve already skipped one of the most difficult stages—getting them out of their clothes. We’ll deal with that at some later stage.”

I lay there, naked, on that luxurious bed, thinking this was probably the best classroom I had ever been in. With a totally naked lady teacher. And her hand on my belly!

“Eventually, you will find yourself working totally on instinct. Obviously we start with the kiss.” And she lay back alongside me. “Come on, then.”

I sat up, leaned over her and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips remained firmly closed. I hadn’t expected that.

She broke away, “Now what do you do? You want your tongue in, don’t you? Sometimes the girl will be automatically willing. But when she isn’t, you have work to do. There’s always somewhere your hands can work without getting too intimate.”

She reached and took my hand and placed it in her hair just behind her left ear. “Just rub gently at my scalp at that point with your fingertips. That’s it. Just a little more pressure. Ah, yes, that’s it. Now, you’d be doing something like that while still kissing.”

I kissed her and her lips were warm and parted, with her tongue waiting to respond to mine.

She showed me how moving my lips firmly up and down along the side of her neck was another stimulation point for her. Her ardent reactions proved that.

“Of course, they’re just my turn-on points. In an unknown situation you may need to search around. Stroking the breast over the clothes may be a possibility. Although I’d advise, in most cases, it might be best to leave the breast until you do get your tongues active.”

Looking up at me she started laughing, “I’m making it sound like painting by numbers when it should be a pleasure.”

She reached up and drew my face down to hers, so we could kiss, but had one more hint, “The main aim for a man should be to give a woman as much ecstasy as possible. That way the man’s own pleasure is maximised. How do I know that? Believe it or not it was a man who told me. Let’s see you follow your instincts for a while. Pleasure me, Harry.”

We kissed with a deeper passion, her hands stroking my back. Already the early ministrations had lifted my penis to full erection. My right hand stroked over the smooth curve of her shoulder. My fingers drifted over her face then back to her shoulder before sliding down her arm.

What would I do next? It didn’t take much thought to move my hand across and cup her left breast. A perfect handful. I let my hand move in a circular motion, and Laura broke the kiss.

“Don’t do it as though your taking the lid off a jar. Finger tips can circle, gradually moving towards the nipple. Then tease it–tickle and away—-rub, tickle and away.”

I kissed her neck while my fingers followed her instruction. I found that finger tip touching was much more exciting for me. I was able to appreciate the varying surfaces, the satin quality of the skin, the moonscape feel of the area around the nipple and the nipple itself, enlarging under my fingers.

“Good,” Laura murmured, kissing my shoulder, “now your mouth there, and your tongue, and ask yourself what might your hand be doing.”

It was no problem letting my lips kiss their way down from neck to shoulder and then on to savour the gentle swell of her breast. My tongue, almost without thought, played on the rough area around her nipple, before dabbing at it playfully. Then I was sucking on the nipple, and wondering if this was the same sense of comfort, quite apart from the sexual, that a baby experienced.

“The hand?” Laura’s gentle voice reminded me that my hand was lying comfortably in the curve of her waist. Without stopping my mouth’s attention to her breast, I moved my hand across her flat belly. Now uncertainty crept in. Just what did my instincts dictate? Should I plunge my hand down between her thighs, where she had placed it briefly earlier? That seemed a little unsubtle.

I trailed my fingers around her navel. I opened my fingers wide and circled my whole palm over the silken skin of her belly. In doing that my fingers touched the fringe of her black triangle of hair, that tempting jungle hiding a secret entrance.

My fingers, almost automatically, moved lower so that they were ploughing through those sensitive strands. Now, to dig deeper? To be truthful, I was nervous about taking that major step.

My hand drifted to her upper thigh. The smoothness of the skin there was unbelievable, asking to be stroked. So that’s what I did, occasionally, drifting back into her pubic area.

“Good–ah—good teasing, Harry.” Laura’s voice sounded a little breathless. Was I really getting to her? Her thighs parted further as she gasped, “Now find my spot. Gently probe.”

I was finding breathing difficult myself now. Excitement rose in my chest. From licking her nipples, I looked down the length of her belly and watched as my own fingers moved into the apex of her triangle. My erection was pressed against her thigh. I had to stay strong this time–just had to.

My middle finger immediately found a little groove, and followed it. Moisture was there immediately as I moved on, my finger sinking deeper and deeper.

“Back, Harry–ah–that’s so good—but back—”

Back? But I was there wasn’t I? By rippling my fingers it felt like two very wet lips. Why back? Unwillingly I withdrew my fingers into the firmer groove.

“Yes, yes, Harry—just feel it. Feel the little button.”

I was just a little irritated by her odd request, but right then I became aware that my finger was touching what did feel like a tiny nipple. As I stroked it, it seemed to come erect.

“Ah, yes, yes—good—you’ve hit it. Love it, Harry. Very gently caress it.” Her voice sounded almost desperate, and her words were punctuated by little grunts.

With great care I stroked the little button between two fingers.

“Now, Harry—tongue me there–”

Tongue her—there? My mouth down there? I hesitated to move. But at that point her voice rose an octave. “No, Harry.— In me.—- In me.– Now. Quick. Your cock—in me.”

Shocked that it was the first time that she had put a name to any parts other than her breasts, I was only too relieved to move between her thighs. This time I knew I had to get it right. Her hand grasped desperately to guide me. And I took no guiding.

The head of my heaving penis touched the wetness of her, felt the lips, and then was engulfed as she heaved her hips upwards, and I was inside her. Immediately deep into a hot wetness, an unknown world, where it seemed a hundred rubber hooks drew me deeper. Laura’s hands pulled at my buttocks, urged me forward.

“Harry–back—-and push– back–and—” Her panted instruction was so strangled it was almost lost. I withdrew and plunged, plunged again and knew I was about to burst. Too quick, I feared. I looked into Laura’s face. Her hair sprayed out around her perspiring face, her eyes were closed. Her mouth, wide in spasm, gave out strange little squeaking yelps..

Unable to hold it, I gushed into her and with a desperate lunge I felt I had struck against some part deep inside her, and I heard my own voice making sounds I’d never heard before. As I poured into her I kept up the piston motion expelling the last drop. Feeling elated, relieved, ecstatic.

And then she gave an extended yelp and thrashed under me, her head jerking from side to side, her hips rising as though to drag my penis even deeper. For a brief second I feared I mustn’t be big enough for her. But then her yelps became breathless words, “Oh, God, that was so—.”

Her eyes were glazed as she looked up at me, “Phew,” she gasped, her hands touching my face. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Was I all right?”

“I meant it to last longer. Hell, I’m supposed to be the teacher. Maybe I’ve been celibate too long. And yes—you were better than all right. In fact, we nearly came together.”

“I thought we were together.”

“At the same time,” she laughed, and shuffled as I felt my limp penis slipping out of her. She reached for the bedside table and produced tissues, handed one to me, and placed the other between her legs. I wiped at the goo on my dead snail of a penis.

We lay in each others arms, so close, so intimate, that I felt able to voice some of the feelings I’d had. “Why me, Laura? A gawky junior.”

“I told you—your shyness—-”

“Yes, but —-”

She put her finger over my lips, “Your athleticism.” She paused before adding, “And you were a challenge— in a strange way a source of redemption for me.”

“Redemption?”

Laura turned her head to look at me, her face a mask, as though pondering a suitable approach to a difficult subject. “To assuage my guilty feelings about myself.”

Some kind of confession was coming and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it. “Laura, you don’t have to —”

“But I do, Harry. I’ve never said anything to anyone. Although some of my closest friends may be aware.”

Despite my earlier misgivings I was just a little intrigued by her willingness to open out to me. I remained silent.

Laura sat up with her arms wrapped around her knees. Just the way I had first seen her on the beach. She stared straight ahead of her and her voice was low as she began, “When my husband was in his final months—completely bed-ridden, I was unfaithful to him.”

Her head turned to see if I had any reaction. I wasn’t sure what to show her, so, somehow, I found something to say, “You had been nursing him for a long time?”

“For five years he had been incapable, slowly dying. In those final months a nurse came and spent time so that I could get out. One night I got a little drunk and had a one night stand with a man. It was pleasant enough, but it was a kind of trigger. Deprived of physical intimacy for so long I began looking for it.” Her upper lip puckered, eyes moistened, before she turned and laid her head on my chest.

I put an arm around her. For the first time in the whole proceedings I felt like the mature one. It was a good feeling.

“Oh, Harry, in those last months I was with —oh, I’ve lost count–about ten different men. And with each one, my guilt grew—but didn’t stop me. Some horrible experiences.”

She drew her head back and looked at me, her eyes clear again. “I’ve only had one short affair since he died. I teased you a little when we first met. Then your uneasiness about women began to intrigue me.”

I couldn’t follow her meaning, “Intrigued? Was I such an obvious dummy?”

She kissed me gently, “Please don’t take offence. I liked you. But what I saw was an opportunity to use my sexuality to a better cause than it had been used. If I could give some of my experience to easing you out of your uncertainty—to help you—”

“You’ve done that, all right.”

“And honestly, I was selfish in terms of making up for my guilt. I didn’t expect to get the buzz out of it that I’ve just had.”

Her words gave me a little flush of self- satisfaction, but I admitted, “You said yourself you’d been celibate too long.”

“Yet, I wasn’t looking for any fulfilment other than improving your self-confidence.”

That was the moment I noticed the clock on the bedside table showing four thirty. I sat up quickly, “Look at the time. I’ll not be back for dinner.”

Laura was sitting back smiling, “Still a measure of self-confidence to find.”

“Do I sound so mother dominated?”

She didn’t answer the question. Just swung her feet to the floor and said, “Next ferry’s five o’clock. Your clothes are in the bathroom.”

Back in our clothes, Laura got me to the ferry landing in good time, “I’ll be back over there tomorrow.” Her eyes were firmly on mine as she added, “Wanting to finish the course?”

“I still have a lot to learn,” I said, trying to mimic a shy smile.

“Indeed you have,” she laughed, then kissing me softly she added,” Now get yourself on board.”

The ensuing days were a mix of favouring the wishes of my parents, and my treasured learning time with Laura. Our meetings were mainly afternoons, when my parents avoided the heat, in her taverna room, pretty basic, but with a shower room, a comfortable bed, and a fan overhead keeping it relatively cool. We did meet on the occasional late evening after I’d said good night to my parents. One of the afternoons I even took the risk, while my parent’s hid from the sun, of going back to Aegina to share her sensuous apartment.

So with my parents I visited Athens (twice)—the Acropolis, dust and heat stroke. Doubly resented by me because extended visits like that kept me away from Laura. They took me on an awkward trip to Aegina, when my father said, “You can show us all the sights you saw on your visit.” Hardly. They also took me on a cart trip around the island, with a grizzled old local doing the driving of a reluctant pair of donkeys.

And with Laura, what did I learn?

On our first meeting in her taverna room, it was all about removing a girl’s clothing. I must have unbuttoned her blouse twenty times and when it came to the bra, Laura insisted I should be able to do it with one hand.

“By the time you get to this stage I would imagine that any girl will be willing to take over the process–but it will count for you if you show such proficiency.”

That turned out to be the most frustrating of afternoons as it turned out she was having her period.

It was the beginning of our second week before I saw her again. But it was worth the wait. Lying naked in her room wafted by the overhead fan, Laura prompted my actions up to the point we had reached the first time when she had desperately demanded I enter her quickly.

As then, my lips and tongue were favouring her breast while my finger tickled at the little nub, which this time she told me was her clitoris. I recalled that it was a name I had heard from the boasting of my school mates.

Again, breathless, she urged, “Tongue me where your finger is.” And again I hesitated. The idea of putting my face down there had no appeal at all. “Just move down slowly,” she went on, detecting my uncertainty. “I think you’ll find it beneficial.”

Hard to believe, I thought, but then I recalled that she had kissed and tongued my penis. I guessed it was only fair that I returned the compliment. Slowly I kissed and licked my way down over her tight belly. Reaching her black thatch my nose twitched, both at the tickle on my upper lip and the musky odour, mixed with jasmine.

“Go direct,” Laura gasped. Clearly my finger was doing an effective job. So, under her urging, I slid my finger back into her warm depths, and my tongue replaced it.

And it wasn’t bad at all. Like dipping into a bowl of cream. My tongue being more sensitive than my finger I found I was able to pay closer attention to its stimulation. I licked while my finger circled her entrance.

Her whole body was trembling. My own penis was beginning to strain, stimulated by this most intimate of positions. My lips closed around the enlarged clitoris, while my fingers spread over her juicy opening. But immediately I was aware of her giving little yelping noises, and her hips began to heave up under my face.

Then her hands grabbed at my head, pulling me upwards, as she whimpered, “Harry. Oh, Harry.”

I was only too eager to move between her thighs, have her grasping hands reach for my penis to speed its way into her.

Gliding easily into her I realised immediately that I was very close to spilling my load. Laura was sighing, gasping and heaving, and her vaginal muscles clawed at my erection.

That was enough. I was unable to control myself and was spurting forcefully into her, thrusting hard under the impulse of it. Along with the rapture of the moment, I was having feelings of disappointment at this weakness in being unable to hold on.

But within seconds as I sustained my thrusts, Laura pulled at my buttocks and she was heaving up to meet me while from her lips there issued what sounded like a mixture of whining and giggling.

We lay sweated in spite of the spinning fan.

“I was too fast again,” I moaned.

“Terrible, was it?” she teased.

“God, no. I’d just like to sustain—”

“Harry, it was good. I orgasmed—couldn’t you tell? It was only your second time. Be patient with yourself. You will get better”

By the time I stole the afternoon at her Aegina apartment, I had begun to be more inventive, more independent, and consequently more confident. I had realised that kissing and licking between her thighs was both an honour and a luscious experience. From having reservations about doing it, I was now eager to get to that part. I had lifted my head during one session to part those lower lips, and was fascinated by the pinkness and the rose petal wonder of her.

So on that afternoon in her apartment, I had my head between her thighs, lavishing long slow licks along the lengths of her valley, all wetness, aroma and deep, deep pleasure. But this time I listened very carefully to her breathing as I began to concentrate my tongue and lips on her clitoris, while my fingers, teased her vaginal entry.

Her breathing deepened, became more gasping and I knew exactly what my intentions were. As her hips began to heave, I awaited her usual reaching to pull me upwards. When it came—-“Now, Harry. Oh, now.”—I ignored it, and continued licking and sucking at her clitoris, occasionally poking my tongue into her vaginal orifice.

Her hips heaved again. “Harry!” Her body twisted in orgasmic spasm. I just kept my tongue working hungrily, until her whole body gave a convulsive heave, desperately pressing her whole undersides into my face, while her near squealing told me I had achieved my goal.

“Orgasm?” I asked raising my head to look up at her hair striped face.

” You young devil.” she murmured. “Now what?”

“Now this,” I said, and slid my body up over hers, kissing her breasts on the way. Finally, I kissed her half open mouth, as I slid my erect penis deep inside her, which, in spite of my mouth on hers, had her issuing a long, “Mmm” sound.

Now, as I moved inside her, for the first time I felt in control. Yes, my scrotum was heavy and ready to expel, but I was confident I could sustain a longer bout of rhythmic action. A long full stroke reaching to her very limits, a slow retraction, then fully in. I could feel her vaginal walls begin to tug at my erection, but I needed no such encouragement. Faster strokes now. Really humping over her.

For a second I broke our kiss and looked down at her face, her eyes were closed, but her lips smiled, as she breathed, “You could get a gold star for this one, Harry.” Then her face burrowed into my neck as I thrust deeply into that mystic cavern.

Her teeth gnawed at my neck and shoulder as I began harder, longer pounding. The sound of her breathing became harsher, more frantic. Suddenly, without warning, I realised that I had been a shade too confident, and I was about to ejaculate. I had so wanted us to hit the high together.

In an effort to delay, I slowly withdrew my penis until it was almost out of her vagina’s grip, and she groaned, “Oh, no, Harry—not now.” Thinking I had spent.

Without further thought, I plunged hard and deep feeling I was reaching into her welcoming womb, and at the same time I spurted into her. She was twisting her body in exultation, while I was consumed by the ecstasy of the moment. But while my erection held, I was able to manage two more vigorous drives into her, and was delighted to hear her make a choking sound, and her head began to toss from side to side, as her hips lifted to grind against mine.

Almost, but not quite. We lay in silence calming our thundering hearts.

“Gold star?” I asked at last.

She mused for a moment before saying, “At least an A plus.”

“We almost got it together, didn’t we?”

She sat up, and looked down at me, “Harry, don’t be so demanding on yourself. If you never get closer than we just did you should be, and your partner will be—well content.”

And so that mystical holiday rushed by, each encounter trying to surpass the last, until came the day before we were due to go home.

I had been told, without any room for argument, that, since it was our last day, the family would spend the whole day together. On my morning run I found Laura where I knew she’d be, and explained the situation. How different it was looking at that body now that I had explored almost every part of it.

Laura had looked a little disappointed at my news, but then she smiled and said, “Well, we can’t have your last day go cold. We’ll need to put in another late shift.” So it fulfilled me for the day to know I had her sensuous company to look forward to.

And I certainly needed fulfilling, as the day included yet another stretch in Athens, where my mother’s main aim was seeking out presents and souvenirs. Just where her worry about the afternoon heat went to when she was involved in shopping I’ll never know. What I did notice was that as the day wore on my father was becoming increasingly ratty with her. That in itself was a rarity.

Anyway, the day passed and we were back dining in the hotel restaurant in the evening, slightly overheated, but calmer. After a good meal we were in the bar and I was treated to a small glass of white wine.

“For our last night, Harry,” my mother said. “And you have had a restful time, haven’t you?”

Oh, yes, mother. You couldn’t know how restful it has been! But all I said was, “Suppose so.”

Later in the evening my mother commented, “There’s that woman again. Do you think she’s one of those who seeks out men?”

My back was to the bar and I hadn’t seen her entrance. I didn’t dare turn round now.

My father looked around the room, “She can’t have a lot of choice,” he said, and then chuckled, and stroked a finger over an eyebrow. “I don’t think she’s noticed me.”

I laughed, but my mother hissed, “Raymond!”

At last my mother declared we should have an early night since we had an early ferry to catch. I glanced towards the bar. There was only an elderly couple sitting there.

In my room, I showered, doused myself in talc, and left my room via the French window. It only took a couple of minutes to get to the rear of the taverna, where I knew the drill. Her door was slightly ajar, and she leapt from her chair as I entered. We just stood there and kissed deeply.

Very quickly we were out of our clothes, but still standing locked in each other’s arms, my rising erection trapped against her flat stomach.

As we broke the kiss I said, “My father complained that you hadn’t noticed him.”

She laughed, as she led me towards the bed, and I told her the circumstances of his remark. “I think your mother would have been just a little sharp if I had.”

Then we were lying close together on the bed under that cooling fan. I had determined on this last night to treat her to at least twin orgasms. So the process between us began on familiar grounds, continued deep kissing, hands stroking over bodies, my hand finding that spot behind her ear, and then stronger action began.

Her hands strayed down to my erection, stroked it , held it, while I moved my mouth and tongue down over her body. This time I savoured the smoothness of her inner thigh before concentrating on the fuzzy groove, and began licking and kissing along the entire area, absorbing the creaminess and the warm ripe aroma of her.

Was this to be my last time? Then I had to concentrate. While my tongue lapped at her clitoris, my fingers probed her deeper areas, even touching on the tight little circle of her anus. That really made her jerk. But all the time I listened to her breathing. Now familiar with the quickening, the grunts that signalled her rising passion, I also tuned in to her movements, the twitching of her legs, the raking of her fingers over my body.

And they all started, and I waited for her desperate reaching for my penis, which I tactfully kept out of reach, as her head started to rock. Her voice came to me in broken gasps,” Now–Har–ry—-now–Oh, please.”

I ignored it all, and just kept my fingers probing and my tongue and lips caressing her clitoris, until I was very aware of her breaking apart with the orgasm that gripped her. The expected lift of her hips, thrusting herself tightly onto my face, which became aware of the extra moisture. At last she fell back, still panting and cursing me, “God, help me. I’ve created a devil.”

I began to move up her body intending my erect penis to enter just as at other times. But this time it was her who moved. She twisted her body so that I rolled over beside her, as she sat up.

“Now you just lie there on your back. I’ve been saving something for you to remember me by,” she giggled.

My erection was huge and I felt momentarily disappointed, so ready to plunge into her. I was then puzzled to see her grab a pillow and place it behind my head.

“So you can see what’s happening to you,” she said firmly, before sliding her lips swiftly down my body.

She wanted to kiss and lick my penis? Well, she had done that before.

And that’s how she started. Her tongue ran along the length and tickled at my scrotum, before coming back to the head via the underside vein. Slowly she licked around the purple head.

Every so often her eyes glanced up at my face, gauging my reaction. “Very nice,” I muttered, but wondered why she was doing that now. I soon found out.

Unbelieving, I saw her lips close around the head, while her tongue continued licking, and her hand gently began squeezing my scrotum.

I was inside her mouth! I never knew this was done. In her mouth!

Even as the thought hit me she moved her mouth to engulf more of me, her tongue continually rolling around it. Her head sank lower until I felt my tip touch the back of her throat. Then she was drawing back, fingers tightening on my scrotum.

The sight of my erect penis disappearing into her mouth was almost too much. What if I started shooting?

Her eyes were on me briefly, and I’m sure they were smiling. Her lips began riding up and down my penis faster and faster, while her tongue continued its ministrations. I was sure I was getting harder and harder, and knew my gently squeezed scrotum was fit to burst.

“Laura–” I gasped, “I’m going to–”

Immediately, without ceasing her up and down movement, she moved her hand beneath my buttocks, pushing them upwards, so that it felt there was no escape.

Too late. Before I could do anything to save her, and with my penis deep in the back of her throat, I was spurting. Out of the exquisite sensation of it, I was able to glance down and see her throat throbbing as she swallowed every drop I expelled into her. Her eyes were on me, eager and willing me to continue. That very sight increased my pleasure to levels I just didn’t know existed.

“Oh, God,” I sighed, as I felt my penis wilting in her mouth. Laura drew back her head from it, and reached for a tissue to wipe at the silvery thread that trailed from her lips as my limp penis fell dead across my thigh.

Seeing that enforced the guilt that overlaid my recent pleasure.

“I’m sorry, Laura. I couldn’t—”

She came up alongside me and kissed my cheek, “Don’t be silly. Nothing happened there that I didn’t want to happen. You liked it?”

I tried to tell her how much but my words were clumsy and insensitive.

“Knowing you were going tomorrow, I wanted you to leave with something to remember me by.”

“But there’s so much to remember you by.”

“Yes, and one day you’ll talk about how this ancient thirty six year old was an easy conquest.”

Thirty six! She was thirty six. “I won’t do that,” I told her.

“But one day you will talk about it. To your friends or to a girl friend, but when you do—please, Harry—be generous.”

“But I’m so grateful. And I had told myself you were about twenty nine.” It wasn’t true, but it seemed like a good time to start being generous.

She nudged me in the ribs and kissed my cheek,” Oh, you’re going to be a big success with the ladies. And if you find one who does what I’ve just done for you, given that she’s a good girl in every other way, then you’ll know she loves you.”

I had to ask, “Does that mean you love me?”

Her eyes studied me frankly, “I can’t say that, Harry. You’re one of the sweetest men. But what I did was a gift.”

We were quiet for a while before she added, “And you should know that I’ve only ever done that with one other man.”

“I’m honoured then,” I said, then voiced what had been troubling me. “Does all this future talk mean we won’t ever see each other again?”

She hugged me, before saying sadly, “I’ve thought about that a great deal these last few days. The idea seems good now, but sooner rather than later that age difference would get in the way. If we corresponded we would be in that situation—and I’ve encountered this—where the letters get fewer and fewer and the gap becomes hurtful. You understand?”

I nodded, and told her the truth, “But I’ll miss you so much.”

“That’s good to know. But soon you’ll be at university—amid lots of girls, and with the confidence you’ve found, you’ll get over me quickly. A solid quick break is best for both of us. And don’t think I won’t miss you.”

I thanked her and repeated how hard it was going to be.

“For both of us. But I’ll look for your name when the Olympics come around. Oh, yes—what is your name?”

We laughed together as I told her my surname, and then we had slow no nonsense sex for the last time. And it was good.

As I opened the door to leave she called, “Harry!”

I looked back at her, still naked, on the bed, an image that I wanted to imprint on my brain forever, “Yes, Laura?”

She held up a thumb, “Gold star!”

How good it would have been to rush back into her arms, but I closed the door behind me and it was over.

I didn’t sleep too well but by nine o’clock the next morning we were boarding the near empty ferry for Athens. With my parents, I stood at the hand rail as the ferry pulled away. On the landing there were only a few people watching. And my heart leapt.

Laura was there, waving her hand in farewell.

“Isn’t that the woman we saw in the bar?” my mother said.

I had hung my hand over the rail, trying to give a hidden return wave. Laura briefly held up a thumb, just as she has on the previous night.

“Who can she be waving at?” my mother asked irritably, and she looked both ways along the deck.

I was aware that my father’s eyes were on me, and I feared my face would reveal the emotions I was feeling.

“Probably the skipper,” he said unconvincingly, his eyes never leaving me. Then, a half smile on his face, and his head nodding knowingly, he looked across at the landing and added, “Or some other very lucky fellow.”

“Raymond!” my mother scolded.

I watched the landing until her white blouse faded in the heat haze, but I stood there watching my favourite island also vanish.

My university time more than fulfilled Laura’s wishes for me as far as the young ladies were concerned. And my Olympic prospect? Well, that ended in my second term when I attempted an unscheduled triple jump and ruptured one of the quadriceps in my upper right thigh. So targets changed.

But memories of Laura never went away.