Holiday Encounter

<strong>Couple the skin hadn't split. There would, however, be a swollen bruise there.
I asked if she was alright if we should call the police and so on, but Sophia insisted she was ok and didn't want the police involved.
I asked who that guy was, and she deflected, saying it was a long story.
My wife gave the young woman instructions on how to reduce the swelling and how important it was to do it immediately. Sophia assured her she would, as she was heading home already.
The next morning, Sophia greeted us again, but this morning she had her hair down, covering part of her face. After she'd brought us coffee, my wife insisted she inspect the injury. The cheek was swollen, and she'd made an effort to cover up the bruising with makeup. However, if you knew, you couldn't miss it.
I made a mental note. If I ever saw that kid again, I'd make him regret hitting Sophia. My wife must have noticed my expression, and after we were alone, she admitted she wanted to stamp on the guy's goolies.
Ann suggested we laze around the hotel this morning, and after breakfast, I headed to our room for our books, sun hats, etc. When I returned, Ann was talking to Sophia, and I took a discreet table to allow them to talk in private.
It turned out the guy was Sophia's ex and the father of her 3-year-old child. He'd always been a bit of a tearaway, and she regretted getting drunk and sleeping with him. Now it seemed he thought because she'd had his child, he had some sort of sway over her. Often appearing expecting sex, and most of the time she denied him, but occasionally she did not.
Because we'd spent all-day around the hotel, the pool and in the shade of the garden, I was full of energy. So I decided to go for a jog as soon as it got dark. The streets were surprisingly quiet, the lull between workers going home, and tourists going out.
As I slowly jogged up the hill towards the hotel, I heard a noise that some primitive part of my brain identified as danger. However, it took my forebrain another few seconds to work it out, and I looked over my shoulder. It was the guy on the scooter coming up the hill on the other side of the road.
Our eyes locked until he'd passed me. Then he started to slow and pulled a U-turn. Then he mounted the pavement about 100 feet ahead of me. This could be interesting. On one side of the pavement was a low, but wide, stone wall overlooking a 20-foot drop into someone's backyard. On the other side was a row of tightly spaced parked cars. I could easily throw myself onto one of the cars to avoid him. If that's what I wanted.
He twisted the throttle, and the scooter shot towards me, and I needed to time this right. Taking a lunging step towards the cars. He adjusted his aim, and I took another lunging step the other way, and up on to the wall. Letting my trailing leg kick out.
My foot hit the end of the handlebars as I'd intended, and everything seemed to happen at once. The front of the scooter turned, instantly tipping it sideways. The wheel hit the wall and stopped, kicking the back of the scooter up and launching the guy through a lovely trajectory.
Which was unfortunately interrupted as his arm, and then the rest of his body, impacted the wing mirror of an expensive-looking Mercedes. His cry of pain is joined by the wail of a car alarm and flashing lights of the injured car.
'Perfect', I thought. I'd not had to touch him, but I jumped at the sudden sound of a police car only yards away. As two armed officers leapt from the car, I felt foolish standing on the wall, so I stepped down.
I won't bore you with the details. The guy was arrested before being taken to a hospital to deal with his injuries. The police had not seen me kick the handlebars and assumed he just lost control while trying to rob or intimidate me. And it didn't seem like my place to correct them.
Back at the hotel, I found myself humming while I took a shower, which triggered my wife's sleuth-like deductions. She questioned me far more thoroughly than the police, and I admitted exactly what had happened.
I expected some sort of rebuke for being stupid, behaving like a teenager, or something. What I didn't expect was her to pull my towel off and drop to her knees and give fındıkzade escort me an enthusiastic blowjob. Then we went out for dinner, where my wife rather cheekily told our waiter she'd already had her 'starter' before she came out, while looking at me.
When we got back to the hotel, my wife was in the mood, and we stayed up late making love. In the morning, my wife let me have a lie-in, as she went down to breakfast. Or more precisely, to feed her caffeine fix.
After an hour, I decided it was time to get up, and I found my wife in the hotel garden. She reminded me about a public garden we'd talked about visiting, but I'd rejected it after I'd read the trip on the bus was too tricky. She told me that Sophia offered to guide us tomorrow, as it was her day off.
I felt a little awkward accepting Sophia's help but didn't want to disappoint my wife, so decided not to argue. Ten years married, right? I'm not entirely stupid.
A little after 9 am on the last full day of our holiday, Ann and I approached the bus station, looking for Sophia. It took me a moment to spot her as she was out of her uniform. She spotted us first and waved while getting up from the wall she'd been sitting on.
She was wearing oversized sunglasses to hide her swollen cheek, a plain white t-shirt and short denim skirt. Revealing rather shapely legs and ending in cork wedge sandals. As she moved to put an over-large bag over her shoulder, the movement revealed something else. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were larger than I'd speculated when I'd seen her in her waistcoat while working.
Looking away quickly, I spotted my wife giving me a look that said she knew I'd noticed and so had she. From the outset of our relationship, I'd known my wife is a little sensitive about her small breasts. So it always seemed strange to me she'd point out women with impressive busts when we were out. At first, I assumed it was some self-deprecating 'look at what you're not getting at home'. But then I thought it was to prime some interest which she could take advantage of at home.
However, these days I'm not so sure. We've both seen the striptease scene from 'We're the Miller' at least a dozen times, and I'm not allowed to pause it or comment while she watches.
As Sophia hurried over, I noticed most of the men had spotted her braless boobs and had their eyes locked on like predator to prey. She hurried us to a nearly empty bus and spoke to the driver, while I held out a handful of soon to be a useless collection of coins.
My wife takes a window seat and Sophia sits next to her. I'm about to take the seat behind, but my wife insists I sit across the aisle. But I know her plan. From our previous bus trips, I knew the combination of potholes and poor suspension produced quite a bumpy ride.
Ann was talking to Sophia as we pulled off, but watching me with a hint of amusement on her face. It was almost impossible to keep my eyes up as we hit each bump. It was like a bird of prey zoning in on an unexpected movement.
I shook my head in admonishment that I'd rumbled her plan, and Sophia caught my movement from the corner of her eye and asked if I was OK. I had to reply that I'd not really woken up yet.
Sophia replied that after we'd seen the gardens, she'd show us a secluded beach and I could rest and sunbathe. I always hated just sitting around doing nothing in the sun, but at least I had my book in my cargo shorts.
Once out into the countryside, I was able to use the excuse of the view outside to avoid staring at the young waitress. My wife would occasionally ask me to confirm something. I knew she already knew, just to get me to look over at the pair. And when I say pair, I mean both women, and not only the bouncing bazookas.
It took more than an hour's drive before Sophia told us we had to get off the bus. It appeared to be the middle of nowhere, no sign of the gardens or signposts pointing in the right direction. However, we were guided to a farm lane, and after a quarter of a mile, we saw the entrance to the grand gardens.
I have to admit they were grand if you're into that sort of thing, and the topiary must have taken decades to achieve. But gardens always remind me of gardening. taksim escort Which I was forced to do as a child for pocket money, and I've had a lifelong dislike of it and almost any gardening since.
The gardens gradually sloped down from the entrance, and when we reached the end, Sophia led us through a gate into the behind-the-scenes section. Full of greenhouses and fertiliser, and somewhere I was sure we weren't supposed to be. However, we didn't see anyone there to tell us off, and she quickly led us out another gate and onto a narrow lane.
Following the lane for about 1/2 a mile, we arrived at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea and a narrow beach over 100 feet below us. Sophia pointed out a set of steps and we started down. About 2/3rds of the way down, my knees started to question the wisdom of coming and pointed out it would be harder coming back.
However, as we hit the sand, it was an impressive beach. A shallow inlet with a narrow fringe of sand under the towering cliffs. Perhaps 300 yards long and perhaps 50 feet of sand between the cliff and azure sea.
Sophia put her large bag down and extracted a giant beach towel and spread it out. My wife smirked at me as my eyes tracked Sophia's movements and the sway of her breasts. Then she did something that surprised us both.
Gripping the hem of her t-shirt, she pulled it off in one smooth movement. Her breasts were even more impressive in person. A good 'C' cup and without any sag. As she turned and dropped her shirt, she spotted my expression.
"Sorry, you have problem with breasts?" She asked me, but my wife beat me to reply.
"Not at all. I've seen his browser history." I thought 'browser history' was too hard for Sophia's limited English, but it seemed the young woman understood.
"Sorry..." I added. "I've no problem. It's just you caught me by surprise."
"I can cover?" She offered, looking at Ann.
"Of course not Sophia, just ignore him. He'll get used to it. It's your country and your customs. It's just his hard luck."
My wife had been standing close in front of me and moved back until her back touched my chest. Her hand slipped between us and brushed over the front of my shorts.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, looking down at the top of her head.
"Just checking how 'hard' your luck is."
Sophia shrugged, producing delightful jiggles to her breasts, then started to unbutton her skirt. For an instant, I panicked. A topless woman I could cope with, a nude one, was another matter entirely. However, as the skirt dropped to the sand, I saw that she had on quite conservative red bikini bottoms.
I also noted there were no tan lines on her body, so she either sunbathed in skimpier bottoms or naked. 'No, don't think about her being naked!' I thought.
"She's..." I started.
"Gorgeous?" my wife asked.
"I was going to say 'a kid'."
"Actually, she's 26." Which made me feel a tiny bit better. And I took a step away from my wife.
My wife kicked off her shoes and started to unbutton her blouse. She was wearing cream shorts and an off-white cheesecloth style peasant's blouse. The contrast in skin tones between the pair was remarkable. Sophia was almost olive hued, while my wife was pale and freckled.
Sophia sat in the middle of the towel and patted one side for my wife. I wondered if my wife would discard her bra, but I suspect she was a little intimidated by the younger woman's larger breasts. She sat next to Sophia, who turned and patted the other side for me.
I declined, saying I didn't want to get sand on her towel, and quickly sat and pulled out my book.
My positioning wasn't fooling my wife, so she continued as she had on the bus. Asking me questions that it would be rude not to twist around to look at the pair. I suspect that Sophia must have cottoned on to my wife's game. As she grinned at me each time I tried to respond without flicking a glance at her exposed breasts.
But God, they were good. Rather fat, thick nipples on dark-coloured areolas. I knew she had a child, and I felt a twinge of jealousy at the kid being able to suckle on them.
Eventually, I stood and slipped off my trainers and socks (I am British after all!) And made başakşehir escort my way down to the sea. Walking into the cool water until it was mid-calf, then walking the length of the beach. Slightly over halfway along, a small stream split the beach. Coming from a hidden valley whose entrance was demarcated by a boundary of scrub grass.
At the end of the beach, the cliff gave a little shadow, so I took my book out again and continued reading.
Once the shadow vanished with the sun reaching its zenith, thirst drove me back to the women. I'd get a drink and then explore that little valley.
Both women were lying face down when I returned and retrieved a lukewarm bottle of water from Ann's bag.
Asking her if she wanted a drink, she jerked awake. She reached for the water and then stopped and admitted to not feeling well. Sophia quickly sat up, saying.
"Oh-oh, she has too much sun."
"Yes, we need to get her out of the sun and cool her down." I replied.
Looking around, I could see no shade, and climbing up the steps would likely make matters worse.
"Into the sea to cool?" Sophia asked, and I turned and shook my head.
"It might be too much of a shock to her system."
"Follow me, I know something." She helped my wife to her feet and grabbed her large bag.
As she walked down the beach, I grabbed my wife's stuff, the towel, and slipped on my shoes. Then I hurried to catch up.
As I got to the entrance of the hidden valley, I saw how the scrub grass thickened up and grew taller. About 100 feet up the valley was a small, low stone building.
Sophia produced a giant and ancient key from her bag and opened an equally ancient padlock on the heavy door. Pushing it open revealed a single room with a bed and a few shelves. It was substantially cooler inside, as the building walls must have been close to three feet thick.
Sitting my wife on the edge of the bed, she handed me a metal bowl that reminded me of a dog's bowl.
"Water." she instructed.
Rather foolishly, I looked around for a tap, and then again outside until I realised I was only a few yards from the stream. When I returned, Sophia thrust a cloth into the water. It was only as she wrung out the excess water did I realise it was her t-shirt, and I was suddenly reminded of her topless nature. Which seems weird, that I'd forget.
Placing the wet cloth on the back of my wife's neck elicits a gasp and swearing.
"God, that's cold."
"Not really, just colder than you."
Taking off my t-shirt, I wet it and wrung it out, then held it out to my wife.
"Ew. I don't want that. It'll be covered in your sweat." She replied, then took it from me. "I suppose it doesn't matter. After all, I should be used to dealing with your bodily fluids." Sophia glanced at me and chuckled, and I felt myself blush in embarrassment.
As she held it over her face, I stepped outside and heard her say.
"He's nearly 40 and I can still embarrass him like he's a 10-year-old."
"Men are the same all over." Sophia replies.
Realising I couldn't do anything else, I looked around the building and the valley. With the tall sides, I suspected the building stayed in the shadows for most of the day, which helped it remain cool. And in the winter, it was probably protected from the worst of the storms as well.
The building has soot-blackened sides, but I didn't notice a fireplace. As I looked closer, Sophia appeared.
"My family says one of my ancestors was a fisherman on this beach. But I think he was a smuggler. Your wife is resting now."
"Thanks, I should have kept an eye on her. She's always forgetting her sunscreen and hat." She nods.
"Me, I am used to it." She held out her hands to emphasise her body, and my eyes automatically flick over her breasts.
"You still not used to this?" she asked, nodding towards her chest.
"Sorry, you're young and attractive and I feel a little creepy looking at you."
"Creepy, what is that?"
In reply, I twisted my body, trying for a hunchback of Notre Dame pose. Screwed up my face, and waved a claw-like hand towards her.
"Boobies! Boobies!" I spoke in a zombie-like voice substituting 'Boobies' for 'Brains'.
I've no idea if she got it, but she chuckled.
"Ok. I think I know now."
I straightened up and gestured to the building.
"Do you come here often?" I asked, and I could have slapped myself. It sounded like a chat-up line, and I think Sophia spotted that.