It was shortly after 10:00 am when I decided it was a beautiful day, and I found myself longing to take a swim. There are days when the condo’s community pool is full of children, and the way I was feeling—I didn’t feel much like dealing with the noise and activity of a lot of children running about so I walked out on the balcony to survey the pool.
With that thought I looked down at the patio and was surprised to see only one of the sun beds already occupied. Great! It looks like I’m going to have some adult company today. The young woman was oblivious to her surroundings as she lay still in the sunshine whilst reflected flecks of sunlight from the surface of the pool sparked from her oiled body.
As she lay there I appraised her with my artist's eye. Her, natural, unfettered breasts, surmounted with dark, almost perfectly circular, nipples were obviously heavy and I guessed at a large cupped thirty four inches. Her waist was thin and her stomach flat but she had the flared hips common to women of the region. Her long legs were toned, neither too fat nor too thin…the kind of legs that always caught my attention, legs you dream of having wrapped around you.
I was tempted to fetch my sketch pad but at that moment she moved slightly, turning her face more fully to the sun, and the small shift was enough to bring instant recognition. The woman was my significantly younger neighbor, Izabel. I knew that she had just had a birthday and was now 23…but she exuded maturity, a confidence, a sexuality that some women so much older than her had yet to master.
It now seemed so wrong, standing there watching her, but, as I was about to turn away, she reached blindly for the bottle of sun oil. She held it over her stomach and allowed the dark viscous liquid to trickle slowly onto her skin. When a small pool had formed she started to work it over her body and I was fascinated by the way the combination of her glistening skin and the fall of sunlight emphasized the shape of her different muscle groups.
I had done some life painting, it was not my subject of choice, but, at that moment, it was almost like seeing the human body for the first time. I continued to watch as her hands moved slowly upwards until she was massaging her breasts and it took a few seconds to dawn on me that her touch was now more delicate. She was no longer working the oil into her skin; instead, her palms seemed to be gliding over the shallow mounds.
I willed myself to take a step back from the balconies edge but I remained rooted to the spot as I watched her fingertips gradually come together to delicately pinch her nipples. As she did so I felt my own nipples begin to tingle and then stiffen. I drew my robe more tightly around me, unconsciously blaming the slight breeze, but there were other signs which I guiltily tried to ignore.
For the next couple of minutes I hardly drew breath as I watched her teasing herself. She concentrated on her breasts but, every now and again she moved a hand down to draw lazy circles over her stomach.
In those minutes I tried to reason with myself. However you looked at it there was no excuse. I should have crept away and respected her privacy but her fingertips were now grazing the waistband of her bikini bottoms and I found myself wondering just how far she would go. I suppose I was envious of her free spirit, the brazen, risqué way she touched herself, completely ignoring the likelihood of getting caught. I could never have touched myself in that way in such an open space even if I believed, as she no doubt did, that no one else was around.
As I continued to watch she arched her back slightly and held her stomach in. This created a slight gap where her bikini hugged her waist and her fingers, as though surprised at finding this opening, began a tentative exploration.
I watched as the back of her fingers bulged the blue satiny crotch and it was almost as if I could feel the touch on my own body. The temptation to slip my hand into my robe was almost overwhelming but that was a step too far even in my current reckless mood.
Her hand moved lower and I caught the briefest glimpse of her mound before the elasticated waistband trapped her wrist. Her movements were lazy, unhurried, as she stroked her oiled fingertips over her mound and I could hear the coursing of my blood in my eardrums as I stood unnaturally still in a silence broken only by the courting of insects.
I must have been there for more than ten minutes as she continued to maintain an easy rhythm and I wondered just how far she would take it. It would have been easy to believe that she was falling asleep, so languid were her movements, but then, at last, she gently arched her back and shivered into a long, lazy, orgasm.
When it was over her body relaxed once more and I was forced to retreat in haste as her head lolled towards me.
I found that I was breathing quickly and I wanted nothing more than to bring myself the same pleasure that I had just witnessed but my guilt won out and I disciplined myself to take a shower.
Afterwards, I went downstairs to find that the cook had laid out a simple breakfast and I indulged myself with fruit and fresh baked bread whilst perusing the morning papers.
The temptation to take a swim was still strong but I was not sure that I could face Izabel quite so soon after the morning's events and so I refilled my coffee cup and made my way to the new studio. I had two commissions to be started but as I stood before the pristine canvas I could not focus my mind on landscapes. I picked up a fresh piece of charcoal and quickly began to dash off a series of bold curved lines.
I had started to draw a female form but, once again, I was pricked by my conscience. Almost without thinking I modified the outlined beginnings of muscles groups and what emerged was the drawing of an angel.
I was enjoying myself and I began to apply paint to the canvas in bright vivid swirls. I worked feverishly for over an hour before I stepped back to take in the sweep of my creation—I had been inspired, and she was beautiful…breathtaking.
I stared at the canvas with a blank look in my eyes—wondering about the depth of inspiration she could provoke if only I could feel her shudder beneath my touch.
1 comment:
wowza!
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